She had her shopping list memorized, yet she kept pulling out her phone and scrolling to the email that contained the description of the items she was here to get. Sitting in the half dark parking lot now, she wonders once again if she's doing the right thing. As she considers this, thoughts of the last time intrude and she sighs and reaches for her purse.
There were only three items on her list, but getting them has taken all her strength and will. They seemed so innocent, yet she had never been to a store like this one and never thought she would be going there the first time alone. She'd almost called a girlfriend to come with her, but she hadn't wanted to have to explain her relationship with him.
It wasn't that she was ashamed -- just the opposite. She wasn't hiding anything, well, sort of. She locked the car door and looked around before going in the brightly lit doors. She had the thought that it looked furtive. If anyone had seen, she would have appeared to be someone doing something she shouldn't. That wasn't really the case, lots of people go into sex shops. She wasn't the only one and she certainly was of age. She was one of the oldest in the store. You would think, she thought to herself, that by the time you reach forty, you might have been in one of these stores before. She mentally kicked herself for not having been at least once. She felt like such a rookie now.
Nerves struck her as she opened the doors. They were heavier than they looked and she stumbled, then nearly tripped on the thick carpet. She'd picked the nicest one in town, but was having second thoughts about her choice. It occurred to her now that there was greater chances of meeting someone she knew in the better one. She might have just gotten in and out of a sleazier store. And she felt no safer for this one being so well apportioned and lit. she actually felt more that she was on show as one of the nice customers who might shop here and lend legitimacy to the operation.
She would have bought the items online just like every other time she'd purchased a vibrator, but he specifically told her to come to a shop. That she didn't have time to wait for the mail. He wanted this for tomorrow and she's already put off coming here until the last possible moment. Two days, she fretted. Worried herself over this visit until she thought she couldn't do it. Why he picked on the most neurotic person she knew (herself), she has only a vague idea.
As she walked between the shelves toward the obvious spot (big sign), she corrected herself: not really neurotic, but picky. Persnickety, her father had called it. She's always been very particular. In her job, her choice of clothing, her home, her choice of men.
He was the exception. Not in type, he was quite urbane and cultured, but in taste. Not for clothes or things, he was simple and staid that way. All the things he had were the best of quality, he just had very few of anything. He was a minimalist in fact if not in spirit.
No, he was different in some very basic and definite ways. She'd never had anyone like him close to her. That she knew of. Maybe she'd been naïve all along, she thought. Perhaps men like this had always been near her and she'd been completely oblivious to it. She only knows that the day he told her about his "situation" as he called it then, she'd been both thrilled and uncertain. She'd felt cast adrift in a strange ocean.
There were shelves and shelves of toys in the store she had to navigate between. Her purse bumped into a metal corner and she started. She felt bizarrely spooked. The display for "Electronic Toys" was directly before her, she just had to get through a little jungle of assorted sordid merchandise. She swerved to avoid another edge, dodged a shopper engrossed in an odd looking inflatable pillow and finally saw the way clear to the wall she was heading toward. A clerk jumped in front of her and asked if she needed help. She shook him off, but he tried to stay with her. Men did that all the time with her. She had that look they liked. They ran off when she opened her mouth and talked about substantial subjects. They could never handle her intelligence.
She felt as tongue tied tonight, though, as she ever felt being with him. He had a way of making her forget her name and number. The first date was nice, but not special. He'd asked her out and even though she'd been tentatively seeing someone, she'd accepted. It was nothing really. They went to a play. Banal and easy. A light supper at a nice place she'd been to before. She'd taken her cue from him and ordered a light meal. She remembers he'd ordered a salad. It was only later that she found out he only ordered certain items from whichever restaurant he was at, never anything else. They had a goodbye moment. No kiss. A hug.
A couple days later, he'd asked her out again. This time he told her ahead of time where they would go and what they would do. He'd made it a point to tell her that they'd have private time to talk. That intrigued her. Rarely did that ever happen with men. She canceled her other date for the same night.
They walked along the river after supper. A nice time, to be sure. It was a warm and breezeless night, it had been a very nice meal with coffee after. A moonlight stroll. Hand in hand, she talked about her work and her hopes. Things just came tumbling out from her lips, spilling into the gentle night air. He didn't brush anything away like the wind might have, he held it there for both of them to look at. Then he told her about himself.
She was gazing at the wall of toys spread before her and was nowhere hear deciding on anything. The wall was covered. An assortment of shapes, sizes, colors and even functions. She pursed her lips. He'd offered to pay for these -- they were expensive -- but that wasn't an issue for her. In fact, she rather thought that she'd prefer to pay and own the things. That way he'd never use them on anyone else. They'd be hers alone. He'd actually mentioned that was the way he always did it anyway, but she did have some trust issues and it's been only six months since they'd officially (in her mind) been a couple.
There were only two types of the butterfly and she chose the less menacing of the two. The bullets, however, were widely varied and ranged in both size and type. She consulted her list, pulling out her phone and tapping the screen until his email came up. She felt that familiar twinge of wetness threatening to leak out down her thigh. There was nothing specified so she took that to mean she was free to choose. She picked out a black one with smooth appearance, slightly larger than most of them and with a complex looking control. She thought she might enjoy the variety of sensation this one was obviously built for.
The third object on her list was not so easy to find and she feared that she might have to ask for it when she ran across it sitting on a shelf as she walked toward the cashier. It was in a group of manacles and angry looking clamps. A simple strap with holders for wrists and ankles. She barely looked at it before grabbing for the box and scurrying to the front.
She handed over her bank card with shaking hands. Was it her imagination, or did the clerk really keep peering at her with interest and maybe even jealousy? It was a young woman, pierced and tattooed, efficient; and even asked about batteries before totaling the purchase. She declined the batteries. She had a supply at home and didn't want to spend any more time at the store. The girl had already gone through both of the electric toys and ensured they worked, taking out the batteries that were in them as she did.
She didn't remember the drive home. Was this part of it, she wondered, as she put the things away in a drawer. Was the experience of buying things she wouldn't normally buy and being places she normally wouldn't be, was that part of the psychology of his Dominance? Her head whirled with thoughts the entire night it should have been sleeping.
That romantic moonlight walk, hand in hand with him should have led to a delicious prelude and gentle sex. Instead, it became his lead in to the talk. Not the talk like she would have told her friend "we had the talk last night", but a talk about his proclivities as he called them. He told her about his penchant for Dominance and the way he takes women like her and trains them to be his submissives. The more he talked about it, the more nervous she became. He was touching chords within her that she had not realized lay there inside.
She was mesmerized. Although she covered this by becoming clinical and having him describe scenarios that would qualify. He responded by very straightforwardly telling her about tying a woman to his bed and tormenting her for hours before finally allowing her to beg her way to an orgasm. He talked about the difficulty he had of finding someone who was both intelligent and capable and yet predisposed toward that kind of lifestyle.
She asked what it was he saw in her, why he thought she might be so inclined. He'd just smiled. A maddening, gloating smile and she'd felt a trickle of wetness between her legs.
She'd asked more questions and he'd told her very frankly about more scenarios. She could have listened to him tell about his needs all night. It was thrilling. More than exciting. Exhilarating. She felt something that had surely been buried there in her heart, waiting for the whole of her life.
She'd had rough men, men who liked to grab and pinch. Even threatened worse, though she never found out if they would actually do it before she dropped them. She didn't really like that kind of thing. She preferred (or so she had thought before now), nice easy massages and gentle caresses. Now she realizes it was the type and the way it was presented. With him, she gets the best of both worlds in a planned mingling that makes both worlds all the more desirable and sweet.
"I got everything." She texted to him as she left the store. She practically ran to the car. At least she felt like she had. It had been a long time since she'd felt so much like a brand new grad. Fresh out of high school and with so little experience. She was breathless and panting as she closed and locked the car door. It was just the way he made her feel. As soon as she gained a little comfort, he stripped it away from her.
She was sure it was a planned attack on her psyche and just as surely, she recognized that she was unable to stop or derail it. She wanted it. At least her body did. The traitor. She had a foment of needs she'd never realized before him and her body craved it while her mind tried everything to convince herself she didn't need it. That she wasn't desperate and wanton. She didn't believe that she would do anything for what he promised her, though he made it a point to tell her she would and will. Of course, a year ago, she wouldn't have believed she would be sneaking into a store like this and buying things from a list given her by email. She was feeling like a slut. In a way she liked and that left her in tingles and restless.
