Expert Service (A Pleasure Chest Story)

by Penny Wylder

  I pull out my phone and check the time, and the time of the class. I’m still early. That’s fine, but it means walking around the store awkwardly looking at things I’ve never even thought of using. I’m standing by a display of kits, each brandishing the Pleasure Chest logo of erotically entangled legs, and a little sign that tells what’s inside. My eyes fall on one called the ‘Better Blow-Job Kit,’ and I snort out loud. If only it were that easy.

  I move away from that display quickly, trying to ignore the stab of pain and sadness that accompanies the thought. Bryan would have laughed at the kit, and not because he thought it was funny, but because he would have thought it was a good idea. That I needed help. His derision still hurt.

  He walked out of our apartment twenty-three days ago, without any warning. When I asked him why, he laughed—practically a super-villain laugh from the movies. “It’s the sex, Mayra. You suck at…well, at sucking.” He laughed again. “I need a woman who knows what to do with her mouth, not acts like it’s the first time she’s ever sucked a dick. I mean, the rest is terrible too, but a good blowjob can go a long way.”

  I tried to say that I could get better. Practice. Learn. Please don’t throw us away over something that can be fixed. He didn’t laugh this time, instead it looked like he was pitying me. “Mayra, don’t kid yourself. The rest of you doesn’t make up for the how terrible you are in bed.” And then he was gone. I honestly didn’t understand—I still don’t. I thought we were happy. Up until then, Bryan had been sweet, and never said anything about not being satisfied.

  Still, we’d always been honest with each other. He told me there was a problem, and I believed him. I told him I could learn, and I believe it. So that’s how I ended up drunkenly searching for sex classes late one night, finally stumbling across the ‘Blowjobs and Beyond’ class. It seemed like the perfect solution. Now I’m here, standing in a room full of silicon dicks regretting every choice I’ve ever made and hoping no one sees my face.

  I drag myself back to the present, pushing down the hurt from Bryan’s words. I really thought that coming here was a good idea, that I was over it enough to get up and move on. But now I’m not so sure. If a display in a sex store can send my emotions spiraling like that, am I really ready to move on?.

  “Can I help you find anything?”

  I jump backwards, startled by the voice, and crash directly into a shelf. I watch in horror as sample dildos of every size and color and the boxes behind them fall onto the floor in the world’s most pornographic chain of dominos. Oh. My. God. What did I just do?

  I look over to find a gorgeous Asian man in a black apron looking at me and the wreckage of the shelf, a look of startled surprise on his face. His hair is slicked back and I notice he has cheekbones that I would kill for, but that’s all I take in before I look away because I’m trying not to melt from embarrassment. My face is bright red, and I can feel the heat of the blush radiating from me. I lean down to help clean up the mess and blush harder because suddenly I’m holding two dildos in front of a complete stranger.

  He bends down and starts to pick up the boxes, straightening the shelf and putting them back.

  “I’m so sorry,” I manage to say under my breath, secretly hoping that a hole will open in the floor and swallow me up.

  He smiles, and it’s not unkind. “First time here?”

  “Yeah.” I put the toys back on the shelf, “Here, at any store like this.”

  I look on his apron for a name tag, and there isn’t one. Instead there’s a round button that says ‘Ass-master.’ I feel the blush creep up my neck at all the connotations that could have. “It’s fine,” he says. “It can be weird the first time. Even my boyfriend shut up like a clam the first time he came in here.”

  “That’s good to know.” I manage a small laugh.

  “Are you looking for anything specific? I can point you in the right direction. Maybe make some suggestions.” He winks, and I blush again, hurrying to stand up and put the last of the boxes back on the shelf.

  “I’m actually here for the…um…the class.”

  He lights up. “Perfect! I’ll walk you back.”

  I glance at the display one more time, making sure it’s back to normal and there isn’t a sea of dicks floating on the floor.

  “I think you’ll really like it,” my tour guide says, leading me towards the back of the store and an area curtained off with lush red curtains. “It’s a good class. Unfortunately, our regular teacher—Christa—is out sick.” A pang of disappointment rolls through me. Is the class cancelled then? I realize I was looking forward to it more than I had thought under all my anxiety. I guess I had thought it would be a good step in helping me get over what Bryan had said. “But don’t worry,” he continues, “she got a friend to come in for her. I’m sure it will be great.”

  He pats me on the shoulder as he leaves me at the door. “Have fun!”

  For a second I think about leaving. I mean, it’s not the real teacher, so it’s not the real experience. So maybe I should come back to their next class and make sure I’m learning properly. But if I leave now, I know I’ll regret it. I’ll spend the rest of the night beating myself up over what a chicken I am. I can always come back to the next class if I feel this one isn’t good enough. I straighten my spine and walk further past the curtain.

  There are already some women sitting in the chairs, waiting. Everyone seems relaxed—way more relaxed than I am. This isn’t a big deal. I’m not alone. I can do this. I can learn. Squashing my awkwardness and anxiety, I take a seat in the second row. I don’t want to be too far forward or back. Just blend in—it feels strategic, almost like picking a new seat at the beginning of a school year.

  I check the time, and there’s still a few minutes left. At the front of the class there’s a long table, and on it I see a variety of sex toys, including some dildos and vibrators. Since this is supposed to be an oral sex class, I’m not sure what they’ll be used for. I’m really not sure if I want to find out. Oh god this was stupid—they’re not going to make us practice on those are they?

  There’s an easel with the title of the class written in a script that’s peppy and bright and cursive: Blowjobs and Beyond! There’s an accompanying heart and lipstick kiss. I’m wondering what ‘Beyond’ means. I didn’t read the class summary that closely and all I remember it saying was that I was sure to love it. Now, eyeing those dildos, I’m thinking I should have read more closely and made sure there wasn’t a practical aspect to the class. And I’m less worried about loving it and more worried about my next partner loving it. If someone else reacted the way Bryan did I don’t think I’d be able to take it. As shitty as his words were, I feel terrible that he had to pretend that he was happy for so long. I’m sorry that I didn’t see the problem earlier, that I didn’t fix it. If I had, maybe we’d still be together.

  A few more women have trickled into the room, and the chairs are close to full. It’s time to start the class, but there’s no sign of our substitute teacher. I check my phone out of habit, noting that I still feel a twinge that there aren’t any messages from Bryan. I’m not really expecting any, but there’s a part of me that’s still hoping for it. I click over to email, and I’m deleting some spam messages when I hear a gasp from one of the other women, and a collective hush falls over the little room.

  I look up and am met with the sight of one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen. Even in my head it sounds ridiculous, and my sensible brain rails against the hyperbole, but he really is. He’s wearing boots and jeans, an untucked button down with the sleeves rolled up. He looks like he’d be far more comfortable shirtless, ax in his hand, chopping down a tree. I don’t know if I’ve ever encountered someone who embodied the essence of man, the testosterone is practically rolling off him in waves. His face has a wildness about it, like it’s spent more time in nature than the rest of us and wasn’t able to be tamed. He looks fierce and rugged and something deep down inside me shivers.

  Then he
smiles, and his whole face lights up. I feel a breath rush out of my lungs at the transformation. Just like that he goes from being something wild to something warm and charming and no less beautiful. He looks at me with that smile, and somehow, I feel like it’s just for me. I feel my entire body turn into jelly. Even from this distance I can tell that his eyes are a peculiar shade of dark blue.

  “Sorry I’m late, ladies,” he says, voice deep and rough, perfectly matching that wild exterior. “You know how L.A. traffic can be.”

  There’s scattered giggles across the women in the room.

  He walks up to the front of the room, casually leaning against the table. “My name is Philip Crew, and I’ll be your instructor today.”

  Read Lip Service now!

  Full Service

  Want another hot and dirty read? Check out the first chapter of FULL SERVICE, available now!

  Chapter 1

  I take a steadying breath as I rearrange the display. I’ve practically been vibrating all day, a combination of first day jitters and excitement. I honestly never thought that I’d work at a sex toy store, but after months of job searching and coming dangerously close to the end of my savings, working here feels like a dream. Plus, everyone here has been amazing. It’s only been a day and I think that for the first time I might actually have friends at work.

  I’m cleaning out one of the mirrored display cases, rearranging a display of glass dildos. Another benefit of working here—I get to encounter things I’ve never even heard of before, let alone considered trying. It gives me the chance to research a bunch of new things.

  I’ve always loved researching, learning things just because I could. Curiosity is the only gift my dad gave me before he decided his own research in Peru was more important than me or my mother. But that love of learning landed with me with degrees that weren’t…marketable, in the traditional sense, and a scarily large mountain of debt. Still, I wouldn’t trade those years I spent learning for anything.

  The past few days since I got the job I’ve been pouring over everything I can find out about Pleasure Chest, from the company history to learning all about the merchandise they sell. Given just how many toys they do sell it’s going to take me awhile, but I’m up for the challenge.

  I finish polishing a light pink glass dildo—it’s intriguing, heavy with spiraled ridges running along its length. Not something I’ve ever tried. But most things in this store are things that I’ve never tried.

  “Excuse me,” a deep voice says from behind me, “I was wondering if you could tell me about this product?”

  I startle, lost in my own thoughts, and nearly knock over the whole display I just finished rearranging. I’m lucky that didn’t happen. I don’t want to be the girl who broke twelve glass dildos on her first day. I put down the toy and turn around, and I freeze. The man attached to the voice is gorgeous. I think my heart may have just skipped a beat in shock, and I also think I might be drooling.

  My eyes follow the line of his body up, drinking him in. He’s wearing dark jeans that I can tell are hugging his ass in a way that would make any woman want to take a bite out of him. There’s a pale blue henly shirt that’s tight through the chest and shoulders, showing off a body that he’s clearly worked for, with the sleeves pushed up just enough to show off amazing forearms and the hint of tattoos. I don’t think I’ve ever been turned on by forearms before, but there’s a first time for everything.

  As I reach his face—stunning green eyes framed by dark hair—he smiles, and I realize that I’ve been doing nothing but staring at him for at least a full minute. “What?” I say. “I mean—excuse me?”

  He laughs softly, lifting the box he’s holding. “I asked if you could tell me about this.”

  It takes an effort to take my eyes off him, but I do, focusing on the label. He’s holding a small box with a purple toy, the Lelo Gigi. Crap. I’ve seen it, but it’s one of the toys that I haven’t had a chance to fully research yet. I take the box from him, flipping it over. I can do this. I don’t care if it’s my first day, I want to make a good impression on the managers. I probably won’t do that if I can’t even help a customer by telling him how a toy works.

  I scan the back of the box, figuring out the selling points. “This is the Lelo Gigi. They’re a good brand—all of their toys are really high quality. And this one,” I give the box another once over, “I guess it has a way of unlocking a woman’s G-spot.” I press my lips together, trying not to giggle about the fact that I have to say things like ‘G-spot’ out loud at this job.

  But he doesn’t seem to find it funny. His face is intense as he studies me. “You guess?”

  “I mean, I haven’t used it personally.”

  The smile on his face suddenly has a wicked edge, and my stomach does a little flip. Nerves, that’s all it is, or the fact that I probably had too much for lunch. In no way can a stranger’s smile make my stomach do that. “Well,” he says, crossing his arms, “I can’t buy it if I don’t know anything about it. I’m also not a woman. Do you see my problem?”

  I do. I also see the strip of skin that was revealed when his crossed arms pulled up his shirt. It’s smooth and perfect and I’m having a hard time focusing on not touching it.

  Focus Kara. This is your job. You have to be professional, not a horny teenager. Focus. I put on my best customer service smile, “I understand, sir—”

  He releases a sharp breath when I address him, like he wasn’t expecting it. My stomach did another lurch with that sound, like my body already likes that it surprised him. I continue, “but I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.”

  “I want you to be good at your job,” he says, taking a step towards me. “I want to know everything about this toy, and I want to hear it from you.” His mouth quirks up into a smile. “After all, you are the expert.”

  He hands me the toy, and his fingers brush mine. Even that little touch of skin sends a spark through me, landing between my legs and making me wet. What on earth is wrong with me that he’s affecting me like this?

  “The next time I see you,” he says, “I hope you can tell me more about it than just what’s on the box.”

  He gives me a final grin and heads towards the door. He’s halfway there when I look down and see the two hundred-dollar bills he tucked into my hand along with the box. “Hey, wait!” But when I look up he’s already gone.

  He’s given me more than enough money to buy this toy. Is he serious? He wants me to buy it, use it, and report back? Certainly not what I expected today. Then again, I’m not sure if there can be expectations when you work in a store like this. I mean, I was planning to buy some things to try, but not like this. There’s a nagging feeling inside my chest—I don’t want him to be disappointed the next time I see him. And really, what’s the harm? If he wants to buy a toy for a stranger, that’s his business.

  I take they toy over to the register and ring it up. Just as I’m about to open the drawer, Ella comes out of the back. I blush, immediately regretting buying this now and not at the end of my shift. It’s probably not great for us to buy things in the middle of the day, or to ring ourselves up. She comes up to counter, checking out the toy I’ve left there, and starts typing something into the register. “I’m sorry,” I say, “I was just going to buy it and put it in my locker. Probably should have waited till later.”

  She gives me a look. “Girl, please. We do this all the time. But your employee code hasn’t kicked in yet, has it? I’m going to let you use mine. Besides,” her smile is conspiratorial, “I have that one in blue, and I totally approve.”

  Relief shoots through me as she prints out my receipt and hands me my change. “Thanks.”

  I knew I was going to be researching more toys tonight, but I didn’t think there would be a practical aspect to it. I think about the man—I don’t even know his name—and my body remembers the way he was looking at me. The way I got wet just at the touch of his fingers. Tonight will be interesting.

 
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