The front door chimed, signaling someone was entering the shop.
“Okay, Oprah moment over, customer in route!” Jules said, moving from behind the counter. “Bye Lou.”
“Bye mangy bitch, bye Stormy.”
“Bye woman; call me when you get home.”
“Sho’ ’nuff.”
Stormy turned to face the customer who’d ended their conversation, and found a slender young woman aimed straight for her, stopping well inside her personal boundaries.
“Why are you crying?” the woman demanded.
Hearing the barely perceptible lilt in the woman’s voice, Stormy reminded herself that people from different cultures had different understandings about personal space. She couldn’t shove the woman away despite instinct urging her to do so. This was her sole place of business now, and her income could rise or fall based on how she conducted herself.
Smiling, she took a step back, patting the damp skin beneath her eyes.
“The beauty of Red’s Boutique is that when you’re here you’ll get everything you need…even when it hurts.” She winked, glancing over at the cat-o’-nine-tails. “I’m Stormy and this is Jules; we’re the owners of this lascivious place. How can I help you?”
The woman’s gaze flickered toward Jules, took in her multihued hair, titanium septum piercing, diamond stud near the right of her mouth, and dismissed her, shifting her sky-blue eyes back toward Stormy. The intensity of the woman’s focus went beyond the awkward avoidance she normally saw with people who had never been inside a sex shop. This woman was interested in something, but Stormy doubted it had anything to do with their merchandise.
“Can I offer you some tea?” she asked. “Maybe water with a twist of lemon?”
The woman looked around the room, reddening when her gaze landed on the assortment of dildos toward the back of the store.
“I prefer tea,” she informed Stormy as her eyes shifted around the room, turning curious when she looked up toward the second level.
“I’ll be right back.” Stormy stepped away from the younger woman.
“No, no,” Jules motioned for Stormy to stay. “I’ll get the tea.”
Walking across the sales floor to the curtained archway that led to the salon/reading room, Jules ducked out of view only to peek her head out and mouthwhat the fuckas she pointed at the customer and circled her finger near her temple. Jules might have a doctorate in psychology, but she didn’t have the temperament or the empathy to be a therapist. That’s why she had opened Red’s Boutique.
Grinning, Jules disappeared behind the curtain, forcing Stormy to turn back to their customer. “You’ll like this week’s selection of tea. Twig tea, very soothing.” Stormy smiled at the young blonde.Maybe it’ll loosen you the hell up, she thought, then chastised herself. She usually wasn’t reactionary or quick to judgment. It was Lucas’s fault. Every irritating experience she’d had since Friday night was his fault. Before him, she was known for patience that rivaled Job’s.
“I’ve never been inside a place of deviance. Do you provide men with sex upstairs; is this also a place of prostitution?” The woman narrowed her gaze on Stormy. “My father teaches that all houses of ill repute and those that dwell within them should be cleansed by fire.” The woman smiled, her left cheek dimpling. “Lucky for us, he doesn’t know I’m here.”
Did this bitch just try to insult me and threaten my livelihood,Stormy wondered, not falling for the woman’s smile or the teasing toward the end.
“Your father sounds like a bit of a zealot but lucky for you, you’ve found a place that doesn’t censure judgmental men prone to arson. Too many women are taught that celebrating their bodies and sensuality is somehow a bad thing; that our bodies are secondary to, if not made solely for, a man’s needs. At Red’s Boutique, we nurture a woman’s desire to celebrate her sexuality, to know it, to own it. Never believe anyone who would shame you into believing you’re wrong or evil for worshiping that which the Creator has blessed you with…father or not.”
The woman’s regard turned speculative. “I do need to be more skilled, more confident in my ability to give pleasure.”
“Well I’m happy that you chose Red’s to start your journey. We provide books, toys, tutorials, games, whatever you need. I’m sure we can assist you or point you in the direction of someone who can, Ms…I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name.”
For a moment, Stormy thought the woman was going to slap her for asking and walk out the front door. An air of superiority thickened around the woman and she stood taller. “Delilah, my father named me Delilah.”
Okay.
“Well, honey, there is power of biblical proportions in that name. We’ve got to help you master the skills to live up to it, huh? Did you want to take some time to look around or is there a specific area of interest I can help you with?”
Delilah tilted her head to the side, contemplating the question…or simply contemplating Stormy?
The younger woman was definitely odd.
Dressed in a lemon-yellow sundress, with gold gladiator sandals, and a cream clutch pressed into the front of her thighs, there was nothing in Delilah’s appearance that was overtly off-putting. She had a striking beauty accentuated with a simple coating of mango-pink lip gloss, but beneath it all there was a not-quite-rightness.
Glancing toward the curtained salon opening, Stormy cursed Jules; she was intentionally avoiding this customer. Jules’ aversion to overly entitled people, a bias reinforced by years in her doctoral program, didn’t usually get in the way of business.
