There’s something about walking into a sex toy shop that is always a little intimidating. I frequent The Bedroom In Parkhurst which is magnificent and once inside it is private, gorgeous and totally unthreatening.
But still - you gotta park outside, ring the doorbell, and wait just a few seconds while they open up for you. And in those seconds you imagine that every single person driving past slows down, recognises you, raises an eyebrow and thinks 'Oh my, what is Violet buying now'.
The women who work at The Bedroom are super professional. They make buying sex toys into the most delicious, personal and sensual but ordinarily special thing. Which it is, and there is absolutely no need to feel embarrassed.
But still. It can be tricky.
This time around I was looking for a new vibrator. Mine, and I have two, have been brilliant but are getting a little worn around the edges.
They were both expensive (if you’re going to use a sex toy, which you should, use a good one), and anyway, I felt like experimenting.
'Just looking', I said to the lovely saleswoman who asked me discreetly if I needed any help.
Twenty minutes later I was still 'just looking'. The range is enormous. How was I going to make a decision. It isn’t like you can test them in the dressing room and then choose.
I settled on the Swan range because oh my gosh they are just so sexy to look at and they all had fab reviews; but there are Silver Swans, Whooper Swans and Kissing Swans and how on earth do you know which Swan will be best for you.
I asked for help, which I got, in an accomplished and professional manner, and I selected my Swan. I then got a bit carried away in the lingerie section, bought a few presents for my girlfriends, gasped at the anal toys, decided I needed a second Swan, and eventually paid my bill and left with a brown paper bag in hand.
I lie. I had two brown bags.
Okay. Three. I’d bought a lot of goodies.
I made it to the car without tripping, still imagining that everyone driving by was looking at me and went to meet my best friend forever to give her her present.
She took it out the brown bag, looked at it, smiled, and said -'Violet, thank you darling, so useful, it's just what I needed'.
'Your hubby will like it too', I said.
'John? He couldn’t wear this, too small, too silky, but thank you'.
She wrapped the silk blindfold round her neck, as an accessory, thinking it was a scarf.
Oh dear sweet Goddess, how was I ever going to teach her?
I groaned, very tempted to take it back and keep it for myself.
Thank goodness I didn’t give her the Whooping Swan. She would’ve used it as a kitchen blender.
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