“That’s the spirit,” I say, doing a little dance. “Are you up for some shopping? I need to knock the boxer briefs right off Tony’s cute little tushie.”
This is it. I hang up with Raya after telling her I’ll pick her up in an hour and ensure she gets home in time for a late lunch with her aunt, who isn’t doing too well.
It takes me another five minutes to find my car keys, and then I’m on my way.
“Where are we going?” Raya asks as she slides her supermodel body into the passenger seat of my car and buckles up.
“To the Sex Saloon,” I say dramatically.
“Is that like a sex shop?” Raya asks.
“It is, and apparently, it’s the best. I scrolled through their online catalog after I hung up with you, and they have everything I need, and then some, all under one roof.”
“And away we go,” Raya says, waving her hands as she hollers. She really does cheer on my half-baked ideas with great enthusiasm, no matter how madcap they are.
“Also, I cleared my entire evening and night for sex duty, meaning the instant you call or text, I’m coming to get you.”
“You do love me; you really do,” I say, stretching out the words. “What more do I need in a friend?”
“That’s me, there with you through thick and thin.”
“Well, for my sake, let’s hope it’s not too thin.” I waggle my eyebrows. What is it with me and suddenly wagging my eyebrows? I need to stop.
The Sex Saloon is a ginormous warehouse with ceilings that stretch to the sky, filled with aisles upon aisles of sex toys and accessories. It’s so huge we need a tour guide, and Mindy turns out to be a lovely one.
“So, the theme is drop-dead sexy Ms. Santa?” Mindy asks, handing us each a bottle of water shaped like a penis before we embark on our journey intosextopia.
“Yes, with a side of bomb, because I want him to go poof at the sight of me… but not deflated poof, just… you know,” I explain, doing that eyebrow thing repeatedly, aware that I look as if I’m malfunctioning.Starling, stop.
“Trust me, I got you,” Mindy assures me, and I would follow this woman to the ends of the earth, dragging my virginity behind me.
But what am I actually doing? I can’t flirt to save my life. I have to watch how I walk because fresh air seems intent on tripping me up. I haven’t been kissed before. Not ever. I barely go to the gym, and my jiggly butt can attest to that.
My V card is so intact, it’s still in its original packaging, bubble wrap and all. Maybe because I’ve been considered a nerd all my life, and no one cared to date me.
I guess having a Bachelor of Science in Microbiology and always being known as a bug connoisseur throughout my life didn’t earn me any romantic points, but as a lab assistant now, I’m doing what I love. I’m merely swapping my science club for the sex club for a little bit. A detour, if you will as Mindy takes us deep into the underbelly of holiday sex mania. My eyes will never be the same again.
Chapter Three
Starling
Life-size blow-up Nutcracker fuck dolls line one side of the aisle, while actual Christmas trees, decorated with string lights in the shape of a St. Andrew’s cross—a bondage device, I believe—stand against another wall.
“Rocking horses that vibrate if you sit on them,” Mindy explains, except they’re not horses; they’re reindeer.Reindeer. There are lifelike Santa Clauses shaped like chairs, and if you sit in their laps, a dildo pops up from their nether regions, accompanied by the sound of "Ho Ho Ho" with each upward thrust. Full marks for festive creativity.
It doesn’t take me long to find the perfect outfit: a cute red velvet flared mini skirt with a white fur hem. The top features a lace-up bodice, but wait for it… The cups at my breasts peel off, revealing my nipples.
The panties are just scraps of soft, see-through gauze, with the word "cookies" painted on the crotch. There’s no bra, but lo and behold, the panty set comes with a pair of stickers meant to be placed on my breasts above my nipples, and they say… milk. Milk and cookies. When in the Sex Saloon, do as the Sex Saloon does.
The outfit is topped off with a cheeky Santa hat. Perfect. I even buy a pair of red stilettos adorned with little Santas. How cute.Except, on closer scrutiny, each Santa has his hand in his pants, having extracted his candy-cane-striped penis.
We then move on to fill my stocking. Yes, I’m going fully prepared with my own toys, thank you very much. Since I want to try everything—everything—Mindy helps me select a good variety. And lots of lube—Christmas cinnamon flavor, of course, with glitter. Win.
I drop Raya back at her house and then head to mine. Thankfully, no one is home, so I can quickly run the clothes through a cycle in the washing machine without having to explain my Santa slut attire to anyone.
I grab a quick lunch, which should have been a salad since I wanted the clothes to still fit, but our chef left me a portion of lasagna, and I inhaled it before I could talk myself out of it.
I take an everything shower, scrubbing my skin and hair twice. I have a slight moment of panic, but then, upon inspecting my downstairs carpeting situation, I’m happy to report I’m still fuzz-free since my last wax. Whew.
