“What?” Scottie asks.
I set the basket down on the floor and turn toward her. “Do not touch a damn thing on this dresser unless you want to pay a surcharge for pleasure.”
“What are you talking about?” she asks, walking up to me.
“This dresser is a minibar for sex.”
“What?” she snaps and then pulls the menu from my hand. She scans it over and then gasps. “Fifteen dollars for a three-pack of condoms? That’s outrageous!” She turns to me and whispers, “That’s outrageous, right? I haven’t bought some in a while.”
“Yes, it’s outrageous,” I whisper back.
“Outrageous,” she shouts again. “That’s five dollars per possible orgasm. Given the user, there isn’t even a solid chance of orgasm. What a rip-off.”
“To be fair, there’d be a solid chance with me.”
She rolls her eyes in my direction. “Really, Wilder? You don’t seem like the kind of guy who needs to brag about his ability to make their partner experience pure pleasure.”
“Yeah.” I pull on the back of my neck. “I’m really not that guy. Not sure where that came from.” I gasp, and my eyes widen.“Shit, are the Brads and Chad already wearing off on me? Am I…am I turning into a douche?”
“I don’t know. How do you feel about boat shoes?”
“Unfavorably,” I answer. “But that doesn’t mean that I’ll still feel the same way about them if I continue to be around them.”
“Dear God.” She shakes her head. “I refuse for you to become a douche. Refuse. We must get rid of all the things.” She reaches for the dildos lined up in the back, and I quickly swat her hand away.
“Don’t touch anything.”
“Why?” she asks, staring down at the cluster of copulation.
“Because what if the dresser has a weighted sensor like the minibars you find in hotels? You pick it up, and the hotel automatically charges you.”
“Do you think that’s a thing?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug and then open one of the drawers to explore. I move around the dresser, running my fingers along the wood, examining every facet of it, even the back wall to see if it’s plugged in. When I detect no feel of a sensor, I blow out a heavy breath. “No sensor. We should be good.”
“Thank God.” Scottie opens a drawer and then scoops everything inside, leaving one single dildo poking out from the top as she closes the drawer just enough for the head of the fake penis to be peeking out.
“Why are you leaving the dick out like that?”
“Because if there’s no sensor, that means they come in here and count everything to see what we’ve used, and I don’t want them charging us. You might be rich, but to hell if we’re getting charged”—she stares down at the menu—“twenty-seven dollars for a three-ounce bottle of lube. If we leave the dildo poking out, they’ll know we just shielded our eyes from the sex minibar.”
“Smart.”
“Thank you.” She then takes a look around the room. “Any chance we can take off the handcuffs?”
“I can work on it.” I head over to the bed and start assessing as Scottie looks at the erotic pictures on the wall.
Gesturing to one of just a single breast with a very erect nipple and a water droplet hanging off the tip, she asks, “How do we feel about the nipple?”
“It’s a great nipple,” I answer honestly.
She then moves to the picture right next to it of a scrotum and motions to it. “And this nut sack?”
“I mean, it’s a well-manicured set of balls.”
Her head tilts to the side as she studies it. “Looks kind of old.”
“Scrotums are supposed to have wrinkles, Scottie.”
