by Joanna Angel
“Come in!” she said.
I sat on the bed, since eighty percent of the hotel room was the bed.
“You must be beat,” she said.
“Well, I’m kinda used to this schedule. I’ll really crash around noon. Thanks for inviting me over, going home and watching morning talk shows gets depressing.” I laughed and she smiled.
“Where are you from?”
“Los Angeles,” she said. “But really I live on a damn airplane. I am barely ever there.”
“Well that sounds exciting to me, I’m at my house entirely too much.”
“I really didn’t think you would show up,” she said.
“Why?” I asked.
“You just seemed so—scared.”
“Well, I am. But, I’m here anyways.”
I found myself smiling, something I don’t do often. She reached over, put her hands through my sticky hair, and kissed me. Her suit, her tattoos, and her slick hair intimidated me, but as soon as she kissed me I felt at ease. Her kiss felt soft and gentle. Her body smelled like a man’s cologne, but her mouth tasted like a woman’s perfume. I felt comfortable, like my body just knew exactly what to do next.
We continued to kiss, and she began to kiss my neck as her arms grasped for parts of my back. She held me closer to her, and she lifted up my striped Gap T-shirt, and unveiled my ever-so-sexy navy blue sports bra. If I had thought there was any inkling of me winding up in a bed that wasn’t mine, I would have worn one of my slightly more seductive lace bras, with matching panties, but that wasn’t the case.
However, my bra was torn off quickly and I don’t think she gave a shit of how lame it was. She pushed me down and grabbed my perky tits (I swear, part of the reason they are perky is because I wear sports bras). She was definitely the aggressor here and I was excited about it. She pinched my nipples and kissed my skin, she sucked on the side of my neck like a vampire and grabbed my breasts with overwhelming passion. My legs kicked up in the air as some kind of possessed reflex. My entire body felt what she was doing and we were only at second base.
She let go of my neck and stared at it.
“I like leaving my mark,” she said. She turned me towards the mirror and I saw a big swollen red hickey on my neck. I liked it. I felt like I was part of a gang. How many others were wandering around this earth with this same mark? It was nice to be part of something.
She continued to kiss me and her hands migrated down my body, gently but urgently. She stuck her hand inside my fuchsia panties, and in an instant knew the parts of me that would drive me wild. She knew her way around my vagina better than I did. She tickled and teased my outer pussy lips, and she gently pulled at my pubic hair. She licked my nipples and moved her fingers up and down the inside of my lips. There were so many sensations running up and down my body, I couldn’t stop looking at her beautiful face and her beautiful arms. It was really an incredible feeling to stare at a woman touching my body.
Her clothing was still on, and she continued to just focus on me. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be doing something to her too? But I really enjoyed being pleased. She was leading this, and I liked being her prisoner. I figured she would let me know when I was supposed to do something other than quiver and tremble and smile and enjoy.
Her mouth moved down my body and she spread my pussy lips wide open. She grabbed some lube that she conveniently had inside of her hotel night table, (a water-based lube I definitely recognized from the store) and she poured it all over my vagina, and then she massaged her fingers around my clit, faster and faster. I was so incredibly wet from a mixture of natural juices and lube. I felt like I was going to burst. I had never experienced such an incredible feeling before. I moaned loudly, a part of me felt like I was going to cry.
“I—I think I’m gonna,” I breathed heavy and I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth.
“You’re gonna what?” she asked.
“I’m,” I laughed, “I’m gonna cum!”
She went faster and faster; she must have previously gotten some kind of map to my clit, because she knew her way around it so perfectly. I started to feel the beginning stages of an orgasm and she stopped.
“Wait!”
I sat on the bed with my legs spazzing and panting like a sick dog. She grabbed a leather holster with a curvy strap-on silicone dildo from her suitcase, took her suit pants off, and pulled the contraption on herself, a woman with a cock poised and ready. She thrust herself inside me, and continued to rub my clit. The dildo hit my G-spot instantly, she thrust in and out, and rubbed my clit at the same time. Fucking hell, she was an amazing multi-tasker. I could see my internal juices on the dildo each time she pulled out, I grabbed my own breasts, I pushed my pussy towards the dildo so it could get as far inside me as it possibly could, and moments later I let out a loud carnal noise, some kind of cross between a scream, a moan, and a grunt. It was a giant orgasm that lasted for several minutes, and went in different waves. It started from my inside and spread to my outsides; it felt like twelve different orgasms rolled into one. Like every part of my body just got off in its own individual way. Is it possible to have an orgasm in your toes? Because even my toes never felt this good.
She kissed me softly again.
“You’re a lot of fun,” she said.
“Me? I barely did anything. Isn’t it my turn?” I mean, I knew I couldn’t do what she did, but I could sure give it the old college try.
“Well don’t you remember? I gotta go meet with your boss! And I have a few more stores to go to after that.”
“Oh! Yeah, well,” I couldn’t really speak.
“You can stay and crash, it’s cool! The beds here are super comfortable.”
“Really? You sure? I seriously don’t think I could drive home coherently right now. Really.”
“Yeah, definitely.” She kissed me again. She brushed her teeth, and I watched her put her suit back on. Before the top button was buttoned I fell into an incredible sleep.
To go back and stay with Tayrn in the store insted, Click Here.
To see what happens in the hotel next, Click Here.
My “weekend” consisted of Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday afternoon. I worked Wednesday through Sunday night. I kept the same sleep schedule even on my days off so as to not fool my body into thinking I was a person with a normal schedule. I usually spent these days/nights doing laundry, binge-watching multiple seasons of a TV series on Netflix, and challenging myself to see what kind of gourmet meal I could come up with using whatever wasn’t rotten in the fridge and whatever was lingering in my pantry. Last week I really outdid myself with a baked ramen noodle casserole, made with hot dogs and cheddar cheese.
But this week was different. Meeting Amanda made me feel motivated; suddenly, I felt that I could actually make a difference in my workplace. I never thought of the rinky-dink shop I spent half my week at as something tied to an entire industry, but it was. There were so many possibilities to explore. Should I add new inventory? Should we have a blog? Do we even have a website? I pondered these things to excess. Having a wonderful orgasm also greatly awakened me, like an espresso shot that was administered from my clit. I never understood how important orgasms were. I need to have more of them. I felt this new urge of wanting to leave the house and go further than the grocery store, to explore the world around me. All the crucial Netflix series I hadn’t watched yet was not my number one priority at the moment. I mean, it was definitely at number two or three, but not one.
I decided to venture out and go to other adult stores for comparative purposes. I did some research and found a few in the area—I had no idea some of these stores were on Yelp. Dreamz was not found on there. I wasn’t sure if that was for better or for worse.
There was a Hustler store about forty miles away. It was right in the middle of downtown next to all the nightclubs and bars. I had seen it before and never went in. I honestly thought it was a clothing store for Hustler apparel, I didn’t know they had a selection
of sex toys and adult videos. The outside truly looked like a clothing store—it was decorated out front like any store you would see in the mall, with nice lighting and attractive window displays with mannequins wearing fashionable Hustler branded pants and bedazzled tank tops. The outside of Dreamz didn’t even have a store sign. Sandy told me there was at one point but it fell down in a hurricane and never got put back up. Instead there was a small blue neon sign outside of Dreamz that read “VIDEO, DVD, XXX.” Not sure if that was intended to be one sentence, or three words, and I wasn’t sure what the difference between “video” and DVD even was.
I parked my car a few blocks away from Hustler and right above my car was a billboard advertisement for an upcoming gig of Jimmy’s at a nightclub in the area. All I could think was, Ha! I saw his cock. So weird. Go me.
I walked into the Hustler store and it was pristine. Half the store had shiny hardwood flooring and the other half had red carpeting, with intricate, repeating gold paisley designs. Life-size images of beautiful, busty models wearing Hustler branded lingerie decorated the doors of the dressing rooms, while current pop music was playing on the loud speakers. There was a fully functional cafe inside, with a cute tattooed barista girl making lattes, cappuccinos, and chai teas. There were glass display cases with rotating discs inside showing off high-end vibrators. A few of them we actually did have in stock at Dreamz but they looked completely different being all illuminated the way they were here.
I got myself an incredibly delicious latte; the foam up top was crafted into a design of a heart. It was so neat, I didn’t want to drink it. I snapped a photo of it and made it the background wallpaper on my phone.
“Can I help you with anything?” A tall, thin, handsome metrosexual man in skinny black jeans and a Hustler V-neck top asked me.
“No! I’m just looking around, thank you!”
“Just so you know, all of our apparel is thirty percent off today!” He pointed at a wall filled with neatly organized T-shirts, hats, and sweatshirts.
“Oh thanks! I will be sure to check it out.”
“If you want to try on anything let me know and I will start a room for you.”
“Great! Thanks!”
I chuckled to myself. “Starting a room” at Dreamz is an entirely different experience. The rooms we have available are for masturbating and fucking. The only place to try on clothing is the bathroom, and that bathroom doubles as a supply closet for our mop, broom, and an abnormally large stock of paper towels.
“Be sure to stick around for Dr. Erica’s seminar! She’ll be here in about 30 minutes.”
“Oh? Well, okay!”
I had no idea who Dr. Erica was, but I went along with it. I noticed that in the cafe area, a few more attractive staff members were setting up chairs. There were at least ten employees here! And more and more of them kept appearing.
In addition to clothing, movies, and toys, Hustler also had a large selection of books. Like, actual books, not magazines with titles like Big and Busty. One of the employees grabbed a stack of books and moved them over to the cafe with the circle of folding chairs. I casually picked one up; it was titled The Female Orgasm, written by Dr. Erica Soren. This must be the Dr. Erica who was coming to the store. I sat in one of the folding chairs with my coffee that was now cold. I had spent too long holding onto it and not drinking it because I didn’t want to break my pretty foam heart.
Over the next fifteen minutes, the chairs filled up with various women, looking like they were there for some kind of paralegal or pharmaceutical conference from the way they were dressed. They were middle aged, in various suits and blazers, not at all like the ultra-stylish button-down/ jacket combo that Amanda wore. These looked like a group of upper middle-class Tampa mothers, people who definitely wouldn’t go anywhere near Dreamz—or so I thought.
As I continued to study the prim women sitting around me, a woman in a red turtleneck walked into the group, her hair in a tight, neat bun, and carrying a brown leather briefcase. The mothers suddenly stopped their idle chitchat, stood up, and clapped. I assume this must be the Dr. Erica from the book. She was led in by the same store employee who told me about the sale on clothing.
“Good evening, everyone!’ the employee shouted. “Who’s ready to get down and dirty with themselves?”
Everyone laughed, including the woman who I assumed was Dr. Erica.
“This woman needs no introduction, but I’m going to introduce her, anyway. We are pleased to bring you a PhD sexologist, author, sex educator; The New York Times called her the principal voice for women’s sexual pleasure, and she’s a dear lover of three cats. Put your hands together for Dr. Erica Soren!”
Everyone clapped. Dr. Erica took a modest bow, waving her hands around as if to tell the crowd she didn’t want the applause but was definitely enjoying it. She slammed her briefcase on a table in front of her.
“Let’s talk about our vaginas!” she said.
From her briefcase she took out a diagram of the vagina labeled with different erogenous zones, and with no hesitation began to describe the parts of the labia and their impact on sexual arousal. The women intently listened to her lecture and some even took notes. She explained the difference between internal and external orgasms, she took out different dildos and vibrators and explained how to use them by rubbing them against the vagina diagram in the appropriate spots, and she had a recommended lube pairing with each kind of toy. The glass curved G-spot dildo paired with a silicone lube. The Cyberskin dildo paired with a water-based lube. As a bonus she showed the class some new kind of lube that looked exactly like semen and recommended for women to use it on their partners while giving them a hand job.
“Then they will feel like their load is bigger than it is and that always makes men feel better,” she said. The class cracked up laughing.
She concluded the lecture by talking about anal sex.
“Let’s go a little south of the vagina. Believe it or not, it is possible to have an orgasm inside your ass. For some women it’s incredibly pleasurable. Don’t think of anal sex as something you have to do so your husband gets you that Marc Jacobs handbag you’ve always wanted.”
The audience laughed. This was most certainly humor that was not geared toward my demographic; husbands, handbags, and anal sex were three things that were not part of my life, at all.
However, it was interesting to hear about. She encouraged the group to use a butt plug, to have multiple vaginal orgasms before entering the butt, and she recommended breathing exercises to relax, and of course suggested yet another lube.
“And women—it’s a good idea for YOU to anally penetrate YOUR MAN! It goes both ways! It’s the best way for him to understand everything that’s involved in the erogenous zones in the rectum.”
The lecture concluded to incredible applause. They loved this sex doctor!
Then the class opened up to a question and answer session.
“I just gave birth about a month ago, and since then penetration has been painful. It’s made me so depressed! Is this normal? Do you have any advice for me?” one of the women in the class asked.
“Well congratulations on your new baby, but we have got to take care of your other baby—your vagina!”
Everyone in the class laughed hysterically again. This was like a grown-up professionals’ sleepover party. Where did these women come from? Did my mother go to stuff like this?
Dr. Erica laid down on the ground and got into different positions she recommended for more comfortable penetration. She also went over some breathing exercises, and she pulled out something called a “lube shooter” out of her briefcase and recommended using it to coat the entire inside of the vagina with something she called “emergency lube,” which was an incredibly thick silicone gel that had a similar consistency to Drano. This woman really had a lube for every occasion.
After the lecture was over, the women got their books signed and some of them asked her more confidential questions. I decided to purchase a
book myself, and I waited in the line to get it signed. I had now been in the store for over an hour and all I purchased was a coffee so, this felt like the appropriate thing to do. And who knows, maybe I could learn some new things about orgasms that could come in handy.
“Thanks for coming!” Dr. Erica said.
“Thank you!” I said. “I’ve been trying to explore myself a little more, and this was inspiring.” I was being genuine.
“That’s wonderful! Treat your body and soul with lots of love and lots of lube!” she replied, as she signed the book with love and lube, Dr. Erica.
This woman and her lube. She must have like, kegs full of it at home.
“Hey, so, I actually work at a different store, and—I was wondering—do you have, like, booking information?”
“Yes, my manager’s information is all on my website. You can contact her.”
“Oh, yeah, of course. Thanks!”
I walked to my car, and out of curiosity, launched her website in a browser on my phone. There was a calendar with her “appearances” listed on it, and the next year was completely full, with engagements all over the country and a few internationally. This woman was apparently like the Lady Gaga of masturbating.
Well, I was not a doctor and I never wrote a book. And I didn’t have a website or a manager. But I was unofficially the manager of Dreamz, (by unofficially, I mean I was the only one in the store for about 50 hours a week so I think by default that made me the manager). If I read Dr. Erica’s book, and maybe some more books like this, and I tried out a bunch of different sex toys, maybe I could try to teach a class? It would be great to have a real event in the store. Cheetos and punch don’t exactly count as an event. There is so much down time in the store, a thirty-minute class wouldn’t interfere with my other duties.