The Pleasure Chest Box Set(17)

I finish polishing a light pink glass dildo—it’s intriguing, heavy with spiraled ridges running along its length. Not something I’ve ever tried. But most things in this store are things that I’ve never tried.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice says from behind me, “I was wondering if you could tell me about this product?”

I startle, lost in my own thoughts, and nearly knock over the whole display I just finished rearranging. I’m lucky that didn’t happen. I don’t want to be the girl who broke twelve glass dildos on her first day. I put down the toy and turn around, and I freeze. The man attached to the voice is gorgeous. I think my heart may have just skipped a beat in shock, and I also think I might be drooling.

My eyes follow the line of his body up, drinking him in. He’s wearing dark jeans that I can tell are hugging his ass in a way that would make any woman want to take a bite out of him. There’s a pale blue henly shirt that’s tight through the chest and shoulders, showing off a body that he’s clearly worked for, with the sleeves pushed up just enough to show off amazing forearms and the hint of tattoos. I don’t think I’ve ever been turned on by forearms before, but there’s a first time for everything.

As I reach his face—stunning green eyes framed by dark hair—he smiles, and I realize that I’ve been doing nothing but staring at him for at least a full minute. “What?” I say. “I mean—excuse me?”

He laughs softly, lifting the box he’s holding. “I asked if you could tell me about this.”

It takes an effort to take my eyes off him, but I do, focusing on the label. He’s holding a small box with a purple toy, the Lelo Gigi. Crap. I’ve seen it, but it’s one of the toys that I haven’t had a chance to fully research yet. I take the box from him, flipping it over. I can do this. I don’t care if it’s my first day, I want to make a good impression on the managers. I probably won’t do that if I can’t even help a customer by telling him how a toy works.

I scan the back of the box, figuring out the selling points. “This is the Lelo Gigi. They’re a good brand—all of their toys are really high quality. And this one,” I give the box another once over, “I guess it has a way of unlocking a woman’s G-spot.” I press my lips together, trying not to giggle about the fact that I have to say things like ‘G-spot’ out loud at this job.

But he doesn’t seem to find it funny. His face is intense as he studies me. “You guess?”

“I mean, I haven’t used it personally.”

The smile on his face suddenly has a wicked edge, and my stomach does a little flip. Nerves, that’s all it is, or the fact that I probably had too much for lunch. In no way can a stranger’s smile make my stomach do that. “Well,” he says, crossing his arms, “I can’t buy it if I don’t know anything about it. I’m also not a woman. Do you see my problem?”

I do. I also see the strip of skin that was revealed when his crossed arms pulled up his shirt. It’s smooth and perfect and I’m having a hard time focusing on not touching it.

Focus Kara. This is your job. You have to be professional, not a horny teenager. Focus. I put on my best customer service smile, “I understand, sir—”

He releases a sharp breath when I address him, like he wasn’t expecting it. My stomach did another lurch with that sound, like my body already likes that it surprised him. I continue, “but I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.”

“I want you to be good at your job,” he says, taking a step towards me. “I want to know everything about this toy, and I want to hear it from you.” His mouth quirks up into a smile. “After all, you are the expert.”

He hands me the toy, and his fingers brush mine. Even that little touch of skin sends a spark through me, landing between my legs and making me wet. What on earth is wrong with me that he’s affecting me like this?

“The next time I see you,” he says, “I hope you can tell me more about it than just what’s on the box.”

He gives me a final grin and heads towards the door. He’s halfway there when I look down and see the two hundred-dollar bills he tucked into my hand along with the box. “Hey, wait!” But when I look up he’s already gone.

He’s given me more than enough money to buy this toy. Is he serious? He wants me to buy it, use it, and report back? Certainly not what I expected today. Then again, I’m not sure if there can be expectations when you work in a store like this. I mean, I was planning to buy some things to try, but not like this. There’s a nagging feeling inside my chest—I don’t want him to be disappointed the next time I see him. And really, what’s the harm? If he wants to buy a toy for a stranger, that’s his business.

I take they toy over to the register and ring it up. Just as I’m about to open the drawer, Ella comes out of the back. I blush, immediately regretting buying this now and not at the end of my shift. It’s probably not great for us to buy things in the middle of the day, or to ring ourselves up. She comes up to counter, checking out the toy I’ve left there, and starts typing something into the register. “I’m sorry,” I say, “I was just going to buy it and put it in my locker. Probably should have waited till later.”

She gives me a look. “Girl, please. We do this all the time. But your employee code hasn’t kicked in yet, has it? I’m going to let you use mine. Besides,” her smile is conspiratorial, “I have that one in blue, and I totally approve.”

Relief shoots through me as she prints out my receipt and hands me my change. “Thanks.”

I knew I was going to be researching more toys tonight, but I didn’t think there would be a practical aspect to it. I think about the man—I don’t even know his name—and my body remembers the way he was looking at me. The way I got wet just at the touch of his fingers. Tonight will be interesting.





2





I can’t get my shoes off fast enough when I get home. That’s going to be priority number one—research and find the most comfortable work shoes. I haven’t had a job where I stand as much as this one, and my feet are already feeling the pain. I stretch my toes as I hang up my keys and head into the kitchen, placing my bag from the store on the counter. First things first, I need food. And wine. I bought a cheap bottle of wine last week to celebrate my first day, and now I open it. It’s just as terrible as I expect, given the amount of money that I paid for it, but it’s still a victory and I smile as I slip a frozen dinner into the microwave and collapse onto the couch.

I have a job. It feels really good to say that again. I feel like I can relax for the first time in months, knowing that I won’t have to move or be evicted.

After I pull my food out of the microwave, I power up my laptop and start doing some research. I need to research some toys, and…that particular toy. It’s sitting on the counter, and even though I’ve tried to ignore it, I’ve been aware of it ever since I got home. Almost like it’s taunting me, daring me to try it.

The toy itself is pretty straight forward, according to the website. A vibrator designed to massage the female G-spot, with multiple vibration speeds and patterns. It’s silicon and comes in a variety of colors. Of course, I could read all of that on the box. The mystery man said he wanted more than what he could read on the box, and I blush thinking about the way he looked at me when he said it.

I switch research topics, trying to avoid how that memory makes me feel. Instead I turn to researching the actual G-spot. Something I find is contested among scientists. There’s no consensus about whether it exists, but there are more studies under way. I research the anatomy, where the G-spot is located and how it’s accessed. I look up where it’s supposed to be and where to access it. Something I never knew, it’s named after the German gynecologist Ernst Gräfenberg. I had never even thought about why it was called the G-spot. Granted, I haven’t really had a chance to think about it. I’ve never tried to reach my G-spot, and none of my few-and-far-between sexual partners has ever attempted.

But one of the reasons I took this job was so that I could be open to more things—especially in the realm of sex. This would be the perfect opportunity to do that. But still, there’s a knot of nerves in the pit of my stomach that makes me hesitate. I finish my food, and as I’m clearing my dishes, I pick up the box. Opening it doesn’t mean I’ll use it. Not yet anyway. But I want to take a look at it.

The packaging is solid and beautiful, and I feel a little thrill as I open it. The toy is even smaller than it appears in the box, so compact it’s almost cute. The feel of the silicon is soft under my fingers, and it makes me wonder what it would feel like elsewhere on my skin, what it would feel like inside. I rub my thumb over the head of the toy, clicking on the vibrations. The vibration is smooth and steady, and I click through the patterns, enjoying the variety. The sensation runs across my skin and down between my legs and I feel myself getting wet the same way I did in the store today.

I want to try this, but I still have that little bunch of nerves. Am I really going to do this? Cater to the whim of a complete stranger to use a sex toy? A completely hot stranger who makes my body come alive with a single touch? There’s something exciting about it, not knowing who he is or why he wants me to do this. I can’t stop thinking about the tone of his voice, and the way he told me he wanted to know everything about the little toy in front of me. Before I register what my body is doing, I’m walking into my bedroom, stripping my clothes off as I go. For the millionth time I’m glad that I choose to live alone, and that I’m lucky enough to have found this apartment—tiny as it is—for a decent price.