Night Shift

by Joanna Angel

  She dragged her partner around the store, and excitedly picked out a few toys and a few DVDs. It was apparent that it was certainly her idea to come here and not his.

  “Does this come in a size large?” she picked up a French maid costume and asked me.

  “Unfortunately, no,” I answered. “That’s literally the only one we have and I don’t even know how it got here!” I laughed.

  “Well, that’s okay. I can squeeze into a medium, right honey?” she enthusiastically said while looking at her partner, who was on his phone not paying any attention to her. She rolled her eyes and handed me the medium size costume to ring up. “He’ll appreciate this when we get home.”

  I really liked her energy. She had me with the bunny ears but the persistence of the French maid costume despite the sizing really sealed the deal. My workshop was officially beginning in ten minutes, and as far as I could tell no one was there early to claim a seat. So, to put it delicately, no one was there yet. I remembered how that sexy employee at Hustler told me to stick around for Dr. Erica, and I did. So I decided to mimic that marketing. What the hell did I have to lose?

  I leaned in, as if I was letting her in on a special secret. “Hey—in about ten minutes, I’m hosting a girls-only masturbation seminar.” It sounded like some kind of drug deal. I’m not sure why I whispered it; this event was public information. I was actually striving for it to be more public than it was! I should have shouted the damn thing.

  “Oh, cool! Where?” she asked.

  “Right here!” I replied. And I shamefully pointed to the collection of mismatched chairs and step stools.

  “Really?!”

  “Yeah!” I answered. I was so nervous about her being potentially disgusted with my event, or being appalled by just the insinuation of hanging out here for longer than she needed to, though I don’t know why. She was most definitely a local and she didn’t seem spoiled by the foam latte-art and the doctorates of sex that existed in the world. She was just a middle-aged woman in bunny ears, for no reason, looking to spice up her sex life. She was exactly who I was looking for.

  “Well that sounds like a lot of fun!” she said. Her partner guy was still engrossed in his phone. She put her arms around him and leaned towards his face.

  “Babe, why don’t you go watch the fights and pick me up when you’re done? They have a fun thing going on here tonight I wanna stick around for.”

  “What? Are you serious? Brody was saving us seats!” he said.

  “I never know what the hell is going on, anyway! You’re always having to stop and explain to me everything. Won’t this be better?” she asked.

  He sized me up and down. He was actually looking at me for the first time all night, as if he had to get a good judgement of me before he “let” his wife hang out with me. So strange. He didn’t pay any attention to her when she picked out the French maid costume, why was he so concerned about her now?

  “So you’re just gonna stay here.” He was talking to her but looking at me.

  “Yes,” she answered. “Me and a bunch of girls are gonna be here, talking about girl stuff.” I smiled. There were not “a bunch” of girls here, at least yet. But, I still had a good eight minutes before they needed to show up.

  They stepped outside, I could vaguely hear them arguing through our door that never quite closes all the way. I was sure I would never see either of them again and I felt guilty. I hadn’t even started yet, and I was causing a domestic dispute, which is the exact opposite feeling of an orgasm, from my experience. But the bunny-ear sweatpants lady must have worked this out; she came right back in, with a big smile on her face! I smiled right back. She was unintentionally the first person in my seminar!

  “I’m staying!” she said. “Thanks for the invite!”

  “Hell, yeah!” I answered. “Um, you can have a seat? We will be starting soon!”

  We didn’t have a café for her to wait in. This really would have been a good time for punch. I tried calling Sandy again, but she didn’t answer.

  The woman didn’t seem to mind the lack of refreshments, though. She took her jacket and purse off and claimed a chair. She grabbed an issue of Jugg’s magazine, and read it like one would read the newspaper, looking over articles and occasionally saying things like “interesting,” or “Who would have thought?”

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Lucy,” she answered, still entranced by the magazine.

  “Well, hello, I’m Taryn!”

  “Nice to meet you!” she said.

  “We will be starting soon,” I said.

  “I know, you just said that!” She laughed. It’s true. I did. My nerves were highlighting my awkwardness. I paced around the store unsure of what to do next. But, at least I had one person to teach! I went behind the register to review my lesson plan. I could change it to fit one person’s particular needs pretty easily, though Lucy’s appearance had heightened my hope again. There were still a few minutes until the start time; I would concentrate on more people coming through that door in that time.

  Maybe it was my hard-ass thinking, or perhaps the six-time shared Facebook post, but in the next ten minutes, four more women came in! One of them, I recognized; she was one of the fairy girls who came in here with Jimmy all those weeks ago. I wasn’t sure where the other three came from, but they were here and that was all that mattered. Jimmy’s friend looked different in her non-fairy attire. She wore tight blue jeans, UGG boots, and a tight purple tank top, with a crop-top hoodie jacket over it. It was appropriate day-off raver/club girl wear. Two older black women came together, both in heels, one wearing leopard-print leggings, the other in a knee-length, tight pencil dress, with a large belt in the middle. They were totally overdressed, even though I didn’t have a dress code at all. They were holding shopping bags and large cups from Jamba Juice. This event got incorporated into their girls’ day! I found that pretty exciting. And then there was another, who reminded me of me at the Hustler store. She looked pretty young, somewhere in her early twenties. She wore Converse sneakers, black denim pants, and a flannel top. She went straight to a seat and didn’t look at anyone, or talk to anyone, or introduce herself, or anything.

  Five people was certainly enough to quantify as something. I suppose it didn’t matter. It was go time, no matter what this was. I locked up my register, and overheard the girls chit chatting with each other (well, all except the younger one), asking where they lived, introducing them-selves—it was beautiful. Different, unlikely women united under the fluorescent lighting, in the name of vaginas and orgasms and stuff.

  I walked over to the group.

  “Hey everyone, my name is Taryn! Thank you for coming out tonight!”

  The women clapped their hands. I couldn’t believe they were clapping their hands, for me!

  “So I put this event together tonight, so we could all take some time out of our hectic lives and focus on ourselves. In just the last few months I have really discovered the importance of masturbating. I think this is an activity women dismiss—we get caught up in our day-to-day lives and we forget that pleasing ourselves is so important to our confidence and growth. I thought we could all just get together and talk about what gets us off, how we masturbate, and maybe we can try out some toys if we’re feeling adventurous.”

  Everyone nodded and smiled and laughed. That came out rather naturally! I had written and rewritten my opening statement for the night and it all sounded so stoic and rehearsed. I am not a PhD; I am not any kind of sexpert; I’m just a girl from a city about forty miles outside of Tampa who just got introduced to her own vagina, like four weeks ago.

  “Before we start, why don’t we go around the circle and introduce ourselves and talk about our experience with masturbation?” I suggested.

  “I’ll start!” the fairy who wasn’t a fairy this evening said. “My name’s Krissy, and I love masturbating! I actually like it a lot more than having sex most of the time! I like using anything strong that vibr
ates on my clit! It’s awesome!” She giggled. “Okay, your turn!” she said as she playfully poked the bunny-ears-wearing woman next to her with an expertly manicured nail.

  “Well, my name is Lucy, and I’m so glad I found this class. My husband doesn’t want me to masturbate! Every time he catches me doing it he gets angry and tells me that’s his job. But he doesn’t ever do the job! What the hell! Is he really jealous of my own finger?”

  “Honey, he’s not jealous of your finger; he’s probably jealous of your dildo if it’s bigger than his dick!” one of the black ladies said, after finishing her Jamba Juice through a thick, large, phallic-looking straw. Everyone laughed, except the young one, who looked a bit frightened, but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do about it.

  “And my name is Kira, and this stunning beauty next to me is Raylin.” The two older ladies both waved to everyone in the class.

  “Nice to meet both of you,” I said. “That just leaves . . . you!” I pointed to the younger girl, whose face immediately turned red. Whoops. I definitely made a mistake; the poor thing was getting very uncomfortable.

  “Um . . . you don’t have to talk about your masturbation experience if you don’t want. But let’s get your name so everyone in the group can address one another.”

  “It’s, it’s Maya,” the young girl mumbled.

  “Well, hi Maya. It’s very nice to meet you; and all of you! We have so many wonderful things to talk about, and I’ll jump right in! Like I said earlier, I’m pretty new to masturbation, myself. I’ve just recently discovered how to have an internal and external orgasm at the same time. It required a lot of lube, and a few different kinds of toys. This one right here, in particular.” I brought out the G-spot stimulator toy and showed it off like I was Vanna White. “It was really incredible! Have any of you ever experienced this?”

  A mix of excited responses came out of the ladies gathered around me. Lucy asked to see the toy, and examined it like it was a prized artifact from an archeological dig, gently and with great reverence.

  “I’ll take it!” she said. She was a great customer!

  “I am not forcing any purchase on anyone but if anyone does want to buy any of our toys tonight I can give you thirty percent off! And you can have thirty minutes in one of our ROOMZ for free.” I probably wasn’t authorized to do this kind of thing but I did it anyway. If this brought in some new repeat customers, it was worth it. If Sandy wasn’t answering my calls, she obviously trusted me to make these kinds of decisions, right?

  The four women all talked over each other about their clits, their cervixes, their husbands, their vibrators. Even though we were blatantly causing a fire hazard in the middle of a fully functioning store, in our minds we were in our own special locker room.

  Then the quiet one, Maya, spoke. I could see her mouth moving but I couldn’t hear words coming out of her mouth.

  “Shhh!” I said to the crowd.

  “Did you want to say something?” I asked her.

  “I’m a, well, I’m a virgin. I’ve never had an orgasm. I’ve masturbated a few times but I honestly don’t know what to do.” She looked down at the floor and bit her lip. There was an awkward silence.

  “What should I do?” she asked.

  This was great! Well, it’s not great that she is lost and has no idea how to masturbate. But this was the exact reason I wanted to have the class. Now what do I do? She didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know what to do. At that moment, we were both lost.

  “You’re so young! It’s okay, you still have time to learn about yourself,” Lucy said.

  “I’ve been masturbating every day since I was in middle school. I just kind of did what felt right,” said Krissy. “I think it’s hot when girls are shy. I would love to put my hands all over you and help you masturbate!”

  Somehow this girl in her mid-twenties knew more about sex than all of us. The other women laughed, and Maya blushed.

  “There’s a lot of toys here that I know can help you, but I really think at first you need to just take your fingers, and really explore yourself. Maybe use some lube, if you’re nervous and having a hard time working up your own moisture, it can really help. It will feel weird at first but just push through and keep going. Once you work past that awkwardness it will feel amazing!” I was repeating to her exactly what I just did a mere few weeks ago, but truly made it feel as though I was a seasoned, masturbating professional. The words naturally came out of me and I believed them as I said them.

  “But . . . that can’t be all there is to it, just exploring! What if I don’t like anything? What if I can’t have an orgasm? What if my . . . you know . . . is weird looking? Am I supposed to, like, shave the hair down there? Is it necessary? What do you all do about it?” Maya asked, unloading what seemed to be a good portion of her sexual frustration onto a crowd of strangers.

  “I love the feeling of my pussy after I get a nice wax! It’s so smooth!” Raylin said.

  “Ouch! Doesn’t waxing hurt? I just shave the sides. I don’t mind if it hangs out a little bit!” said Lucy, tentatively looking down at her pussy.

  “Well your hair is blonde, that’s why you don’t mind!” Kira replied. She and Raylin both laughed. “I used to shave it all and a few years ago I stopped. I am bringing the ‘70s bush back whether my husband likes it or not!” She pulled down her sweatpants and showed a tuft of pubic hair sticking out and the other women (except Maya, who stared at the older lady’s hair with a mix of horror and fascination) laughed, gave each other high fives, and applauded.

  “What kind of noises do you guys make? Are you supposed to be, like, loud? Or quiet? Is this something I should do when my roommates aren’t home? Or does it not matter?” Maya said.

  At the exact same moment Kira said, “I’m totally silent!” while Raylin said, “I’m loud as fuck!” right on top of each other. They both laughed.

  “I live in a big, open loft and my roommates were always angry at me for masturbating too loud. So I do it in the car, when I drive. In fact, I did it on the way over!” Krissy said.

  “Please, don’t masturbate and drive, Maya!” I said. “You don’t have to be loud! If it makes you feel good to yell then yell, but if it doesn’t make you comfortable you don’t have to. Lots of women have very intense, quiet orgasms.”

  “Does it make a mess?” Maya said. “Do I need to like change my sheets when I finish?”

  “Sometimes I get messy! But I sleep inside the wetness, I don’t care,” Krissy said.

  Everyone laughed.

  “It’s not always like that, honey. I’ve rubbed one out at my desk at work without anyone noticing. No mess there! But, I always have an extra pair of panties on hand just in case!” said Lucy.

  “Every woman has different amounts of moisture in their vaginas, and it varies depending on what part of your cycle you’re in,” I said. I had no actual facts to back that up, but it sure sounded right. I made a mental note to look that up later.

  I noticed Maya was subconsciously rubbing her inner thigh as everyone spoke. I don’t think she even knew what she was doing but her body did. This girl’s pussy was aching to cum, but all she could think about was changing her damn sheets.

  “What do you guys think about when you’re doing it?” Maya asked.

  “Oh, anything! Sometimes I daydream about the time I got gangbanged in the bathroom of a nightclub by five different DJs, and sometimes I just think about someone kissing me on the beach really passionately. And sometimes, it’s about someone in a big furry panda suit.” As Krissy spoke she stuck her hands down her pants and got entranced in a moment. And for the first time in my life I really wanted to be a DJ, and a panda.

  “Ryan Gosling,” Raylin and Kira said at the same time.

  “Just go watch The Notebook and your pussy will know exactly what to do,” Kira continued. Everyone laughed.

  “There’s no right or wrong thing to think about! The most important thing for you to do is relax and see where your m
ind takes you,” I said. I always hated when people would try to tell me to relax. That’s a trigger word for me, and here I am saying it to someone else. I hope it worked. Suddenly I heard, “Man, I Feel Like a Woman” by Shania Twain blaring loudly. It was coming from Raylin’s large left breast. She pulled a giant cell phone out of her bra, and the song continued to play through its speaker. She looked at the name on the caller ID and her expression immediately changed. It certainly wasn’t Ryan Gosling calling.

  “Hello?” Raylin said into the phone; she went from angry to concerned, and then told the person on the other end she would come right home. I couldn’t really get what was going on but it sounded like some kind of snafu with a babysitter.

  “I’m sorry ladies, we gotta go!” Raylin said.

  “We?” Kira asked.

  “Yes! You’re my ride!” Raylin said. Kira huffed and puffed and then agreed to take her home.

  “That sucks! I’m sorry! Well I’m here four nights a week—did you want to buy anything before you left? I can give you 50% off anything in the store as a thank you for coming in.”

  Raylin smirked, “I can always treat myself to a new toy.”

  And Raylin did grab a dildo, while Kira quickly picked out a vibrating wand. I checked them out and they left.

  When I returned, Maya seemed a bit more relaxed, but still nervous overall. Her questions had been answered, but I wanted to do more for her. This girl had clearly never been given any friendly lessons in terms of her own sexuality, and didn’t she deserve some, finally? And wouldn’t it be great if my first class completely changed someone’s life by giving them an orgasm, and then the ability to give themselves an orgasm whenever they wanted?