Dimitri pointed to the chart. “Not only are sales up, but people are using them more frequently.” Dimitri clapped his hands once. “They’re hooked.”
The next day, Bill waited in the office kitchen for Marcus to come in and get coffee at his usual time. Marcus looked much different, like he’d had a makeover.
“You were correct! The solution fell right into my hands. Or shall I say it fell right into, oh never mind.” Marcus’s skin glowed as if he had recently emerged from the spa of the heavens.
Bill winked at him. “Tell, tell.”
“It’s a little embarrassing,” Marcus said. He turned his head to the side as he blushed.
“Pfft. We’ve worked together for five years. You can tell me anything.”
Marcus looked around the office to see if anybody could hear, and then whispered, “I found another way, one that may mean I don’t need a boyfriend ever again.”
Bill said, “Do you mean a sex toy? One that’s better than you’ve ever had in your whole life?”
“Shh.” Marcus lowered both their heads and leaned into Bill. “Yeah. How did you guess?”
“It’s written all over your face. You’ve never been so happy to be at work. You must’ve had the orgasm of a lifetime. What’s so special about this new toy? Spare no details.”
“Hmm.” Marcus tilted his head as if he was thinking hard. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s the intensity or speed, but it was the best sex of my life. It’s a smart dildo that mysteriously somehow knows how you like it.”
“Looks like you may have found yourself a replacement for men,” the Princess said with a knowing glance.
Sunday morning at Pancake Heaven was humming along nicely. Customers came in hungry, they left with a smile on their face. Nobody would leave before saying goodbye and giving a hug to the Princess. That was, until the police barged in, spooking Char so much that she dropped her plate of tater-tot scramble.
“Good afternoon, um…” The police officer hesitated while he studied the Princess up and down. “Ma’am, I guess. We’ve heard reports of illegal activity on the premises.”
“No such thing.” The Princess’s mouth dropped as far down as when she drops to her knees. “There has been nothing but good times and fabulousness going on here.” She waved to the officer. “Sit your handsome buns down and try our blueberry pancakes. They’re to die for.”
“No thank you, um… shall I call you ma’am? We’re going to do a quick sweep with these tactical detection K9s.”
“Get those mongrels out of here. We only allow dogs in the dog section.” She pointed to the other side of the restaurant where owners dined with their poodles and chihuahuas, propped up in their baby seats, eating dog-friendly pancakes.
He continued to examine her over with a disbelieving shake of his head. “Sorry, uh, ma’am. I have strict orders. He waved the two officers behind him to move into the dining room with the dogs.
“There are no drugs in my establishment.”
“Who said we were searching for drugs? They’re searching for, uh, let’s just say, miscellaneous items.”
The Princess tried to hold him back. “You know, I’m a lot stronger than you’d think. There are things you don’t know about me.” She placed her one hand on her hip and the other on her extruding beer belly.
The officer shook his head. “Yeah, we all know you’re a dude.” He looked around the room. “Everybody knows.” The customers nearby all nodded in unison.
“What gave it away? My size thirteen heels?” The customers laughed.
Dillon-Blake was turning red as he tensed up and held his breath. He gasped only when the dog neared him, taking its time to sniff around his body. The officer motioned for Dillon-Blake to stand up, which he did. After they found nothing on Dillon-Blake, they moved on to the next table.
“All clear here,” he hesitated again, “Ma’am, or whatever you are. We didn’t find anything. We don’t want any more broken bones in this community.”
“Oh my,” the Princess said.
After the officers left, Dillon-Blake relaxed and turned back to his usual shade.
“I think someone used a Sweetie this morning,” Makayla said as the rest of them giggled.
Dillon-Blake gave only a half-hearted chortle. “Um, I have it in now. I almost broke a bone trying to conceal it.”
“Those are some strong muscles you’ve got there, kid,” the Guava Princess said. “There should be an Olympic sport for that.”
Jeffree put his arm around Dillon-Blake. “Further evidence that we were meant to be. I’m so glad we could work out our relationship differences.”
Char paced back and forth and then grabbed the Guava Princess by the elbow and leaned onto the table. With a shrill voice, she asked, “Who leaked this info to the police? We don’t want the cops sweeping through Andersonville again looking for our joy toys.” Makayla, Aimee, Jeffree, and Dillon-Blake gave each other blank stares.
The Princess adjusted her bra. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, sister. I’ve got it under control. I’ve learned a thing or two in my fifty-five years.”
Char threw up her hands and walked to the next table to refill coffee and pick up dishes.
“Apparently, so does Dillon-Blake,” Makayla said. They all cackled in delight.
Aimee reached out her hand to tap on the Princess’s arm. “Mrs. Princess, I have a question about the Stockholm Sweetie I bought from you,” she said.
The Guava Princess laughed and placed her hand on Aimee’s arm. “Don’t be so formal. Call me Guava. What’s worrying your pretty little head?”
Aimee looked around at the table. “As you all know, Makayla and I like to have a little intimate time every morning before work.” The whole table and the Guava Princess nodded in agreement as this was a subject often brought up at the brunch table. “Well, when Makayla went on her business trip last week, I set the dildo to go off at our usual time, remotely. We wanted to have a little Skype time from across the country. But it broke down.” The whole table shook their heads in agreement again.
“When Jeffree visited his mom in the hospital last month, we had the same problem,” Dillon-Blake said. “I called tech support, and they told me to reboot. It worked fine after that. It was quite a satisfying customer experience.”
“Smart things aren’t always so smart, are they? Our so-called smart washing machine broke down yesterday,” Makayla said.
“If the dildo breaks down, then we wouldn’t need to do as much laundry anyway,” Dillon-Blake said. They all snickered.
Aimee scratched her head. “But that’s the thing. I didn’t contact tech support, they contacted me. They sent me a text with a link to troubleshooting, and this was during our usual intimate time.”
The Guava Princess laughed. “They always give good customer service, don’t they? Is there anything that the Swedish can’t do?”
“Create easy-to-understand instructions to assemble furniture,” Dillon-Blake said. He played air drums to say bad-dum-bum. They all roared hysterically.
Aimee furrowed her brow. “But the customer service is too good. How did they know we were trying to have sweet dildo time at 6:00 in the morning?” She looked over to Makayla. “You’re the IT queen. How’d this happen?”
“In the same way when you search for blenders online, and then later when you search again, ads for blenders pop up,” Makayla said. “Perhaps the Stockholm Sweeties are collecting data on how we use them.”
“Why would they need that? For the official census?” the Princess furrowed her brow.
“Maybe that’s why I got emails for dating apps,” Aimee said. “Makayla went on her business trip, and we used the Stockholm Sweetie at different times, or not at all. Maybe it thinks we broke up.”
Makayla’s face grew tight and as red as a turkey-cock. “Maybe, the Sweetie can tell what a fool you are for wanting an evil man to be our sperm donor.”
Aimee slammed her hand on the table, causing Dillon-Blake t
o jump from his seat. “Dimitri would be a fine donor,” she said. “He’d probably do it for free.”
“Good Lord. Don’t choose him,” Jeffree yelped. “Didn’t you see what he did to us?” He put his arm around Dillon-Blake.
Dillon-Blake, the melodramatic and delicate flower he is, did a hand-staple-forehead and whispered, “Woe is me,” before fainting in the booth and plopping face down into his Fruity Snooty Bitchin’ Booty Pancakes.
“I don’t want our kid to be an arrogant prick,” Makayla said.
“I want our kids to be healthy and happy, which is what they will be if we raise them right,” Aimee said. She turned to the Princess. “Will you ask him for us? We’re shy.”
“I’m not shy,” Makayla said. “I just don’t want him as my gay baby daddy. He’s trying to tear us apart. He suggested you were using the Stockholm Sweetie without me while I was on my business trip.” She shot daggers into Aimee’s eyes.
“I only used it with you on Skype,” Aimee pleaded. “How would Dimitri even know?” She burst into tears and ran out of the restaurant.
Makayla got up to chase after Aimee, but the Princess grabbed her arm to stop her.
“Princess, my marriage is falling apart. What am I going to do?” Makayla asked. “We need to get to the bottom of this mystery before this dildo disaster ruins my marriage.”
“You just leave it up to me, querida. Grab your purse and follow me.” They walked toward the kitchen in the back of the restaurant.
In the kitchen, Char tapped her nails on the counter in front of the line cook to pressure him to get her order up faster. “Princess, that guy that looks like a blond Viking at table six is demanding a refund claiming there weren’t enough lingonberries in his crepes.”
“He can stick his lingonberries up his northern lights,” the Princess said to Char. She turned to look at Makayla and said, “Whip it out.”
Char laughed. “I don’t think Makayla can whip it out, but you could if…”
“We don’t have time for this,” the Princess said, grabbing Makayla’s purse from her arm. She took out Makayla’s Stockholm Sweetie and scrutinized it. Char shrugged her shoulders and marched out to the dining room with her recent order of pancakes.
Makayla recoiled. “Is that allowed near the food?”
The Guava Princess huffed. “Girl, you and Aimee are the only couple I know that actually belong together.” She tried to open it and then threw it at Makayla. “You’re in IT. You should be able to figure this contraption out.”
A tear fell down Makayla’s face as she opened the device and examined the Bluetooth device near the battery. “Maybe that‘s why I had to link it to my phone.” She searched the settings. “If the Russians can hack into the DNC, I should be able to hack into my own dildo.”
Makayla pointed to the screen in the app recording how often she uses the dildo, how long, the temperature, and the intensity.
The Guava Princess had a quizzical look on her face. “That bastard is recording our fun-fun time.”
Char reentered the back of the house near the food delivery window and tossed dirty silverware into the sink. “Can you believe that nincompoop at table four left me a $2 tip? There were eight people, and every single one of them had a special request.” She looked over at Makayla. “Why is there a dildo near our food? Is there a new dish that nobody told me about?”
Makayla looked at the Stockholm Sweeties. “We think Dimitri is recording data of our, you know, our, um—”
Spittle built at the corners of the Princess’s mouth as she blurted out, “Our happy, happy dildo time. We think he’s recording the data and lord only knows what he is doing with it.”
Char tossed her hair back and gave an arrogant laugh. “He is.” She leaned into the Princess and Makayla for privacy. “I got some juice on your man, Dimitri.”
“I wish he were my man.” The Princess fanned herself. “Despite his moral shortcomings.”
“The FBI thinks Dimitri rigged the Sweeties to collect his own data and is sharing it with a third party. They’re going to stop him.”
The Princess gulped. “Why? What would Dimitri do with all this data?” She rubbed her chin like she was about to interrogate Char. “And how do you know this information?”
“I’ve been, well,” Char held her head down in shame, “working with the FBI.”
“How could you go behind my back?” The Princess screamed in horror before noticing that the rest of the wait staff could hear her. “I loved you like my own guava seed. Are you an undercover FBI agent?”
“No, just an informant. But I enjoy going under the covers with one agent.” Char winked.
The Guava Princess put her fingers on Char’s chin to lift her head up so she could look her in the eye. “Why would you betray your Guava Mama to the FBI?”
Char choked as she tried to answer.
“Mmm-hmm. How hot is he?” she asked. Char pulled out her phone and showed her several NSFW photos of the hot FBI agent she was sleeping with. “My, my. I don’t blame you what-so-ever. But you shouldn’t have gone behind my back. Family sticks together.” The Princess put her arm around Char. “So does this mean an end to the Stockholm Sweetie trade?”
“Maybe so dear,” Char patted the Princess on the back. “Maybe if they clean up their privacy violations, the FDA will approve it.”
“It’s not the broken bones that prevent FDA approval?” the Princess asked.
“Oh no, darling. Side-effects of any product are expected and broken bones are par for the course. But spying on people? That’s unacceptable,” Char said.
“People should be able to have the best orgasms of their lives, without invading their privacy,” The Princess said. “That’s the official stance of the Guava Libertarian Party.” She thought about her customers, and how grateful they were to her for introducing them to the Sweeties. What about their orgasms? She started to cry. Mascara ran. She felt conflicted. If the FBI found out she was helping Dimitri sell them, she could be arrested. But she couldn’t let down her people. “How do we get that bastard?”
“Leave that up to me,” Char said. She pulled out her phone and sent a text.’
An hour later, Char answered a knock on the back door of the restaurant near the dishwashing station.
“My name is Agent Lorenzo Flores.” The stunningly handsome FBI agent reached out his hand to the Princess in the back of Pancake Heaven.
“I know. I’ve seen you in various states of undress,” she choked. “I mean, nice to meet you.”
The agent crinkled his nose in confusion. “We need to ask you some sensitive questions. For this job, you need to use the Stockholm Sweetie in a different way to trigger the change in data and prove that Dimitri is recording it.” He paused. “How do you usually…”
The Princess jumped up and down with glee. “How do I not? Every which way. Backward, forwards, even upside down once. I like to feel the warmth of it in my, well, you know.”
Agent Gomez tenses his eyes as he asked the Princess, “Do you use it alone?”
The Princess exhaled. “Sadly, yes. I haven’t met the man of my dreams who is into fruit the way I am. And if they are, they’re into pineapples,” the Princess said.
“What does that even mean?” The agent said. “Never mind.” He shook his head. “You said you like warmth. Ever do it in the cold?”
The Princess shuffled backward. “Ain’t nothing sexy about the cold. Couldn’t even get it up, not that I need to get it up to get it in.”
“Ah-hah,” the agent said, backing away. “Then that’s what we need to try. By changing up your routine, it will flag Dimitri’s system to send the email. Then we’ll know for sure.”
Char pointed to the walk-in freezer. “In there. Unmistakably cold.”
“Oh, my!” The Guava Princess gulped in horror. “Whatever I have to do to save my community.” With her index finger, she circled the fake nipple covering her padded bra through her muumuu.
They walked
into the freezer together and set up the camera angle. She picked up the gluten-free cooking oil. “This will probably work better than lube in the cold.”
The agent rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t possibly agree or disagree with that statement.”
The Princess lifted up her fruit dress and slathered on the lube while Char and the agent winced. “Here goes nothing.”
After an excruciating hour of oohs and aahs, and several health code violations, the agent deemed it enough data to trigger the device.
“Wash up,” Char said. “Like, really, really thoroughly.” She shivered in horror.
Only 15 minutes after the Princess finished her deed, she received an email. She held her phone up to the agent. It said, “Have you changed your sexual position to the Viennese Oyster? Don’t forget to practice safe sex. Try Stockholm Sweetie brand condoms. Click here to fill out a survey.”
“I better get more than a gift card for this survey,” the Princess said. The email address was the same one Dimitri had given her. That bastard! When he hired her to sell at Pancake Heaven, he failed to mention he was collecting dildo data on their customers. She had to make a choice: her growing success as Stockholm Sweetie saleswoman extraordinaire, or the integrity of her customer’s privacy. She knew what she had to do. She called for another business meeting to discuss her predicament.
Sunday night at Pancake Heaven was not as depressing as it usually was for the Guava Princess, because after closing, her family would stay with her to plot their revenge.
“Girls, girls. As we all know by now, Dimitri has been recording our fun-fun,” the Princess said. “And God only knows what he’s doing with that info.” She poured mimosas for everybody. “But need more proof for the FBI. We need him to get on his knees and confess his sins.”
Aimee walked up and down the aisle next to the booths, grunting in disgust. “We need to work together to get this guy off the streets and out of our orgasms. Who’s with me?”
Dillon-Blake shook his head and whined, “I really don’t care if he recorded how often I came, but he sold my rare condoms, a family heirloom that has been passed down for five generations.”
The Guava Princess Page 2