It was a rough week at the office. Besides that, both of us were between men, off our diets, bogged down with the midwinter blahs and a vicious case of PMS.
As if we were psychic, Ronni and I sent our emails at practically the same time. "Girls night out?" "You bet!" We decided to go "toy" shopping at our favorite downtown sex shop, pop a bottle of wine, and order some take-out and just chill.
Since I worked downtown and she worked in midtown, we met right at Butterfly, the "woman-friendly" sex shop in my neighborhood straight after work.
Ronni was about five foot four, although with her corporate-lawyer heels (and attitude) she was quite a bit taller, and her short skirts and tight jackets emphasized her hot curves. Her mixed-Latina background was evident in her dark skin and green eyes. Men (and women) loved the way her pinstriped skirts curved over the swell of her ass and breasts. Her glossy dark hair was pinned back, and I watched her shake it out as she approached me, smiling broadly with glossy burgundy-stained lips.
I'd just come from work too, wearing my favorite black turtleneck dress, clinging to every curve of my ample but shapely frame, enticing without revealing, but showing my legs to their advantage. I was six feet tall, with a 42 double-D bust that was only moderately softened by the suit jackets I wore to court; I never wore flats, and used my stature to powerful advantage. I shook my dark shoulder-length curls out in response as I saw my best girlfriend walking up the avenue towards me.
"Hey, lady lawyer," Ronni said, swatting me on the ass. "Rough day at the office?" She pulled me into the alley, palming a joint.
"Hey, what are we, seventeen?" I took it and lit it. "Next thing you know you'll be defending me in court!" I took a long drag, and passed it off.
"So, we'll get disbarred, shorten our suits, and become dominatrixes. Dominatrices?" She giggled hysterically. "Come on, Lianne, we need to have some fun. Let's get us some toys, they never talk back, leave us with the check, or fucking snore."
"Or fart, steal the remote, or eat all the goddamn chips," I said, also laughing like a maniac. "And, we need to order a pizza when we get back to my place."
We strode purposefully into the store, a charming, well-lit and friendly emporium of sex toys, lubes, books, harnesses, light bondage gear and all sorts of sexy ephemera. We flipped through some storybooks, perused the porn films, and even snacked on the flavored lube ("Mmm...pina colada," Ronni smiled. "You've got the munchies BAD," I hissed.)
Finally, we reached the vibrator table. Dildos, we agreed, were far too static; being basically straight, we'd never gone the harness-and-dildo route either. We'd also never gone sex-toy shopping together, and, I had to admit, it was kind of turning me on. "Ummm....what do you think of this?" I held up the classic long thin vibrator.
"You mean you don't have that? It's a classic! I got one when I was like fourteen! But now I'm more of, well, a g-spot girl." She held up a curved vibrator, with raised nubs on one side.
"I'm more of a direct-clit girl," inspecting those giant "sex and the city" plug in monsters. "But I need penetration....those are kind of external only." I fiddled with some expensive silicone toys, the kind with the beads in them. I asked a sales lady, "Are they worth it?"
With a blissed-out look on her face, she said, "Oh, yes."
Eventually, I went with a slim, pretty-pink ribbed silicone vibe, and Ronni picked up a nubby, curved-G spot silicone joy-rider. I grabbed some pina colada lube samples and threw them in her bag, laughing.
"She'll take these, since she's not booked her island vacation this year," I laughed. Ronni playfully swatted me on the ass.
The saleslady grinned at us and said, "Maybe you'll both be sipping on them tonight." We giggled nervously, still a bit high, took our bags and left.
After a screeching five-minute taxi ride, we tumbled into my apartment. I wasted no time popping the cork from a bottle of Syrah as Ronni tore open a bag of Ruffles left over from a party we'd hosted last week, digging some onion dip out of the back of the fridge.
She'd shed her suit jacket, revealing a strappy black camisole, her demi-bra peeking out and the tops of her full-C cup breasts clearly visible. I bit my lip, fighting the urge to caress her shapely ass, never having been affected like this by her before.