Author's Foreword: This series has themes of romance, sex, friendship, humor, safe and consensual BDSM, and above all, intimacy and the concept of memory. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental. I want you, reader, to come away with more empathy, appreciation, and joy for yourself and others than you began. As I did when writing this.
After the first scene, the story goes further into Luke and Erin's exploration of consensual BDSM-themed play and associated feelings. If that isn't something you like to read about, please make your own decision about whether to continue reading past the shopping scene. If that is the case but you are otherwise enjoying the series, I would still recommend reading the ending scene for the sake of the story. I sincerely appreciate people's ratings, favoriting, and constructive or kind feedback. I hope you're enjoying these stories as much as I am.
Let the play say the thing.
***Early Summer***
The shop's door blinged as Erin and I walked in. I picked up a shopping basket and we began to stroll through the aisles. It was a sprawling store, and filled wall-to-wall with everything you'd expect to find in a sex shop: toys, clothing, and somewhat furtive people. Erin was lively and playful as always, and she appreciatively ran her nails along my back as we browsed.
She looked equally lovely and showoff-ish, as was her preference. She wore a summer sundress that only came down to her upper thigh, turmeric yellow with small blue flowers like forget-me-nots. The dress was just loose enough to let her toned body move pleasantly. I looked like myself, which is to say understated and a bit scruffy, but lean and clean. I wish I'd been able to match Erin better for style, but then again maybe she enjoyed the contrast.
"Ooh," she said, "I like this one." It was a stainless steel princess plug with a sparkly diamond-esque plastic jewel at the end.
"Seems right up your alley," I responded.
"Smartass," she said, smacking my arm. The plug went into the basket, along with a few similar things. We took our time, debating the merits of this and that before something made it into the basket. There was no theme, just a collection of whatever seemed the most versatile and fun, whatever made us excited to try with each other. That and some decent bondage gear.
Eventually, she wanted to go look at a few things on her own. I said I'd catch up with her and went off to find some reading material. A small shelf at the end of a long wall of pornography held some books that I was interested in. I ended up picking three: a collection of erotica I thought we might read to each other, a "moron's guide" to massage, and a primer on classical bondage and domination. Being in the deepest part of the store, there was a large mirror above me, and I glanced up at it when I heard the shop door bling again. Then I looked a second time.
"You gotta be kidding me," I said faintly.
Walking in was the core of what had been one of the larger and more infamous cliques at my old high school. While there had been about twenty of them, I was currently looking at the four guys and four girls that I'd had almost every class with from freshman through senior year. It's not hard to describe or imagine the type. They were considerably wealthier, more attractive, and bigger partiers than anyone else had been. Especially the girls. All eight had decent grades, were boisterous or overly clever in class without really getting into trouble, and were vaguely athletic if not actually on one of the varsity teams. They were social snobs and could be mean or cruel, but without the motivation to be dedicated bullies. And all of them had been sexually active all four years, or were purported to be. In short: "the popular kids." They had definitely not been my crowd, but thankfully they'd left me alone. I'm still not sure why.
I felt a juvenile urge to panic, and I tried to wrestle it to the ground before it really got away from me. I shifted position so I was less visible from the store entrance. I could vaguely hear them joking and laughing. They quickly divided, the girls heading into the section Erin had wandered into, and the guys heading... right towards me, naturally. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, I started making my way between scantily clad mannequins towards where I'd last seen Erin.
Maybe we could pay and get out of there without incident, I thought. I heard a sudden exclamation from Erin a few aisles over that was echoed by the popular girls. It sounded like at least some of them knew each other somehow, despite the different schools and slight age difference.
Actually, I thought to myself as I ducked from nightie to nightie, this might work out. I could get to the register, pay for our stuff, and at least have it in a nondescript paper bag if everything went to hell. Besides, the guys would likely take a while to joke and ogle at the magazines and DVDs. And Erin would probably walk off from the other girls soon, and I could flag her down from the exit. Yeah, this could work. No sweat. I finally got to the cash register with a glimmer of hope and set the full basket down on the counter.
The tall, bored cashier was about to ring things up when he stopped and stared at me strangely for a moment. His eyebrows knitted together. Something about him... my eyes flicked to his name tag: "Rick." We both wondered a second longer, then simultaneously pointed at each other and said:
"Ninth grade science."
Though he'd transferred schools when he moved across town at the end of the first year, Rick and I had been assigned together as freshman lab partners. He'd been a gangly nerd with a bad haircut. Perfect target for mean teenagers, really. Not a whole lot had changed, it seemed. Except now he was even taller and wore a baseball cap.
"Wow. Uh, how ya been?" I asked.
"Fine," he said vaguely, "Just... y'know... makin' some summer money." I looked at his name tag again. It said 'Assistant Manager,' so it was definitely more than a summer job.
"What the hell are you doing managing a sex shop, man?" I blurted. I felt bad as soon as I said it.
He shrugged and sighed.
"Paying bills and sellin' dreams to perverts," he said with a resigned smirk, "So what are you *doing* in a sex shop?"
"Wait... Luke?!" I heard a voice say behind me. I looked in the mirror over Rick's head and saw the entire gaggle of popular kids start to gather behind me in line.
"Havin' a nightmare," I muttered grimly so that only Rick could hear me.
The big nerd's eyes widened. He knew exactly who they were, and he flinched to pull his cap down lower over his face. Because of that, he accidentally fumbled my shopping basket, and the contents scattered lewdly across the entire glass countertop. Rick swore softly and kept his eyes down, his ears red as brake lights. There was a ripple of guffaws and giggles from the others as they looked over my entire haul of depravity. One guy gave a whistle as the last thing tumbled out.
***
Come on, Luke, I thought, time to be brave. Use your head.
I glanced over my shoulder at them before turning fully around, keeping my head high and my expression calm and friendly. I reminded myself that I had been physically fit in high school and I was obviously stronger now, and I crossed my arms to emphasize the fact. I could tell that not all of the other guys had kept up the pace. I also saw some of the girls glance at me with a nearly imperceptible lingering of attention on what they liked.
I quickly scanned what everyone was carrying in their hands: it seemed like a random collection of smut, joke gifts, cutesy or ludicrous sex toys, and similar things. I noticed the guys that could grow one had a mustache, so I felt pretty good about my guess. And as long as I could keep their attention on themselves rather than me, I had a chance.
"Well hey y'all," I said with a smile, "Long time no see. Surprised you recognized me. Lemme guess: you're headed to a theme party?" I knew who would talk first: Kendra, the queen bee with the straight, honey-blonde hair and quick wit. She was the one who had said my name.
"Nailed it," she said with a low, pleased chuckle. I recalled that she really did have a good sense of humor, as long as it wasn't pointed at you. She was the right height to look me in the eye. If you met her in passing, you'd never guess she could be an absolute witch. At that moment, however, she had a grin like a cat that had cornered a mouse.
