Feeling quite proud of myself for getting over the initial hub of retail sexology 101, I went home at the stroke of midnight to relax. I was renting a victorianesque room in a house belonging to a friend of a friend. Our arrangment was ideal in a sense. He worked nights and I worked afternoons. When he was leaving, I was coming home and vice versa.
This night I had a celebratory bottle of Labatt's Blue and reflected over the previous shift. There was so, so much to learn. It really wasn't all that bad, deviant or dirty. I mean it was just sex after all. So why the shame, nervousness and neurotic behaviour?
Our society had become accustomed to those who were looking to fulfill their needs of love and belonging. Sometimes people could be as condemning as organized religion and I felt I had no place in it. Nonetheless the taboo and eccentric elements of the job, the environment had me facinated. I fully intended on making the most of this opportunity.
Taking a swill off my beer I considered the countless "odd" toys or marital items was the term I'd been previously accustomed to. I was a babe in the woods to this concept just as much as if not more then the genres of film I learned earlier that day.
How deliciously naughty these platic wands of wizardry must've been to boldly be thrust into the heart of deprived lust and longing. The notion aroused me the more I thought about it.
You had your multi-speed; your pocket rockets; your dual action silver bullets and golden eggs; water resistant-water proof; gyrating; rotating; g-spot designed; wearable clit stimulators; multi coloured slim lines---it seemed there was a flavour or fancy for just about everything under the sun--'er make that where the sun don't shine.
My obvious dilemma surged my pulse into a rapid drum beat once again. Just how was I supposed to learn all this stuff? If I was going to be any type of decent salesman (or was it indecent?) let alone of the dynamic variety Mitch Savoy advertised for, I best learn my craft and learn it well.
I certainly had obstacles. My bashful demeanor had to go. I vowed right then and there to pretend to be someone else to overcome this ridiculous awkwardness. I was going to become a doctor; a doctor of love. There were everyday, ordinary people--these consumers and I was there to help them--a prescription for good vibrations--all very legitimate.
Getting back to the learning the product, I'd have to take a hefty volume of notes, returning to the store tomorrow. Theory was fine. I had little experience or virtually none concerning adult toys or novelties. It was not as though present circumstances permitted me to experiment. my lengthy, involuntary bout of born again celebacy saw to this.
I gulped the last of my beer, set my alarm and prepared to face tomorrow with full intent on finding the buzz on vibes.