Let’s talk about sex (shops).

The first time I went to an “Adult store,” a sex shop, whatever you want to call it, I was barely 18, a virgin in the literal sense, and a virgin to most things.

My friend and I were going in for fun.

Upon walking into this store, my eyes landed on a glass case of glass dildos. They were all kinds of crazy colors, and they were $300.

Huh?

The clerk must’ve seen my shocked reaction, and jumped on it.

“Ever used a glass one?” she asked.

I shook my head. I’d never done shit, I thought.

“They’re great because you can put them in the freezer, heat them up, and you don’t have to use much lube with them,” she said.

My eyebrows furrowed.

“Here, let me show you,” she said, reaching into the glass case and picking a swirly blue glass penis. “Ok, make your hand into a vagina.”

What?

Was this something most people knew how to do? When I stood there, dumbfounded, she showed me how, forcing my fingers into a fist.

She put a drop of oil on the glass member; and proceed to “fuck” my fist.

“See?” she said. “And when you’re done with it, you can just toss it in the dishwasher.”

I pictured the glass dildo in a dishwasher, just-a-hangin’ out with the silver and fine China.

I don’t remember much else about that visit; chances are, I was walking around with my jaw hanging open in a daze from my just-learned information.

Since then, I’ve been in various similar stores (the Hustler store on Bourbon Street is impressive), going nearly 10 years without the odd experience I had that first time (heh, heh).

That is until a few weeks ago, when I joined a friend at Hearts.

When the older saleswoman approached us, asking us if we were looking for anything in particular, I shook my head.

“Just seeing what you’ve got,” I told her.

“Lubes and oils there,” she said pointing. “Bondage there, outfits here, you can try on anything as long as it’s crotchless, which is basically everything, games there, dildos there,” she said.

“Thanks…” I said.

I don’t know if it was because the store was basically dead, or perhaps I looked clueless, but she kept checking in on me, informing me that “50 Shades of Gray” made bondage popular, they sell 200 bottles per month of Coochy (brand) shaving cream in the spring, and that she once devoured a bottle of edible oil for female parts, because it tasted like cotton candy.

I didn’t ask.

Is it just me, or is this the scenario in sex stores nationwide? Maybe next time, I’ll do my shopping online.

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