placed a complaint call earlier today. Please confirm your name for me.”
“Jolene Abbott.”
“Thank you, Ms. Abbott. How are you doing today?”
She seemed so sweet. Her vanilla-coated voice cooed into the phone, but I didn’t give a rat’s ass. I seethed, “You want to know how the hell I am doing? I get home from my business trip to find that some pervert that works for y’all in baggage handling gets off on stealing women’s intimates. Now I am left with none of my nice underwear or my favorite vibrator! Yes, I did just say vibrator! And y’all won’t do a damn thing because there isn’t a record of anyone searching my bag. Of course the perv didn’t leave a damn record of his sick little game and of course y’all won’t help me. So I’m sorry, Maureen. I know you’re just doing your job, but I am freaking pissed and y’all either need to reimburse me for the personal property that was stolen from me or just leave me the heck alone.”
There was a brief pause.
Maybe I’d been too harsh?
Finally her sweet voice came back on the line, a little softer this time. “I’m very sorry to hear that ma’am. I can transfer you to my supervisor. He might be able to help you.”
“Fuck this.” Click.
I threw on a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt and a pair of faded gray skinny jeans, slid my socked feet back into my boots, and applied a light layer of eyeliner and mascara to avoid looking completely dead.
Tossing my phone into my purse, I gave Dozer a few kisses on his egg-shaped head. “Be back in a bit, bud.” His whip-like tail thumped against the plush bed as I walked to the door. Right as I pulled my bag’s strap over my shoulder and opened the front door, he closed his eyes.
Typical .
I shrugged and started to make my way down the ten flights of stairs.
Time to go shopping.
A successful Victoria’s Secret trip was not all that I had planned for this shopping excursion. I hailed a cab, hopped in, and without giving it a second thought, instructed the cabby to take me to “Seventh Avenue South and Charles Street, please.”
“Alright.” He grinned at me in the rearview mirror, eying my pink striped bag and showing off his lack of teeth along with the ones he did have left, which were stained piss yellow and looked to be hanging on by a thread.
Gross.
I slid out of the cab at the end of the block and made my way to The Pleasure Chest. The faded red brick exterior and the light gray awning did not do the sexual wonderland justice.
A bell chimed overhead as I was greeted by a rather large middle-aged woman. She was covered in tattoos and leaning on the front counter, looking bored out of her skull.
“How can I help please you today?”
The greeting made me giggle. “I have come because of a travesty.”
She gasped and came around the counter to help comfort me in my devastated state. “What happened?” She softly put her pudgy hand—which was decorated with a brightly colored cupcake tattoo—onto my shoulder.
“My Iconic Bullet was stolen!”
The woman gasped again, louder this time, and threw her cupcake hand to her chest. “Well let’s find you a new pocket-sized boyfriend.”
I grinned and followed her to the back wall, past the sexy roleplaying costumes, anal plugs, and strap-ons.
“Now, you might like something like this.” She held up a white ball that looked like it was wearing a weird pink crown.
Nope!
“That is interesting,” I faked, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “What’s it called?”
“This one is the Vibratex Girls Princessa. My girlfriend loves to roll it around on my clit while I’m climaxing.”
Way too much information.
I grabbed a LoveLife Discover from the wall and read its specs: Discover the pleasure of this versatile mini vibe! Made of silicone and USB rechargeable, this sweet little vibrator has seven delicious settings and is perfect for travel or for a not-so-quiet night in.
Pink. Simple. My kind of thing.
“I think this is the
“Jolene Abbott.”
“Thank you, Ms. Abbott. How are you doing today?”
She seemed so sweet. Her vanilla-coated voice cooed into the phone, but I didn’t give a rat’s ass. I seethed, “You want to know how the hell I am doing? I get home from my business trip to find that some pervert that works for y’all in baggage handling gets off on stealing women’s intimates. Now I am left with none of my nice underwear or my favorite vibrator! Yes, I did just say vibrator! And y’all won’t do a damn thing because there isn’t a record of anyone searching my bag. Of course the perv didn’t leave a damn record of his sick little game and of course y’all won’t help me. So I’m sorry, Maureen. I know you’re just doing your job, but I am freaking pissed and y’all either need to reimburse me for the personal property that was stolen from me or just leave me the heck alone.”
There was a brief pause.
Maybe I’d been too harsh?
Finally her sweet voice came back on the line, a little softer this time. “I’m very sorry to hear that ma’am. I can transfer you to my supervisor. He might be able to help you.”
“Fuck this.” Click.
I threw on a Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt and a pair of faded gray skinny jeans, slid my socked feet back into my boots, and applied a light layer of eyeliner and mascara to avoid looking completely dead.
Tossing my phone into my purse, I gave Dozer a few kisses on his egg-shaped head. “Be back in a bit, bud.” His whip-like tail thumped against the plush bed as I walked to the door. Right as I pulled my bag’s strap over my shoulder and opened the front door, he closed his eyes.
Typical .
I shrugged and started to make my way down the ten flights of stairs.
Time to go shopping.
A successful Victoria’s Secret trip was not all that I had planned for this shopping excursion. I hailed a cab, hopped in, and without giving it a second thought, instructed the cabby to take me to “Seventh Avenue South and Charles Street, please.”
“Alright.” He grinned at me in the rearview mirror, eying my pink striped bag and showing off his lack of teeth along with the ones he did have left, which were stained piss yellow and looked to be hanging on by a thread.
Gross.
I slid out of the cab at the end of the block and made my way to The Pleasure Chest. The faded red brick exterior and the light gray awning did not do the sexual wonderland justice.
A bell chimed overhead as I was greeted by a rather large middle-aged woman. She was covered in tattoos and leaning on the front counter, looking bored out of her skull.
“How can I help please you today?”
The greeting made me giggle. “I have come because of a travesty.”
She gasped and came around the counter to help comfort me in my devastated state. “What happened?” She softly put her pudgy hand—which was decorated with a brightly colored cupcake tattoo—onto my shoulder.
“My Iconic Bullet was stolen!”
The woman gasped again, louder this time, and threw her cupcake hand to her chest. “Well let’s find you a new pocket-sized boyfriend.”
I grinned and followed her to the back wall, past the sexy roleplaying costumes, anal plugs, and strap-ons.
“Now, you might like something like this.” She held up a white ball that looked like it was wearing a weird pink crown.
Nope!
“That is interesting,” I faked, not wanting to hurt her feelings. “What’s it called?”
“This one is the Vibratex Girls Princessa. My girlfriend loves to roll it around on my clit while I’m climaxing.”
Way too much information.
I grabbed a LoveLife Discover from the wall and read its specs: Discover the pleasure of this versatile mini vibe! Made of silicone and USB rechargeable, this sweet little vibrator has seven delicious settings and is perfect for travel or for a not-so-quiet night in.
Pink. Simple. My kind of thing.
“I think this is the
Similar Books
