CHAPTER THREE
Tammy
Slowly, I got out the key to my secret drawer, slipping it into the lock with a snick. The drawer rolled open on its own, hissing on the metal wheels, and a shiver ran through my body at the contents.
Because I’ve been keeping a drawer full of sex toys at work. It’s crazy, I know. Like I mentioned, I’ve been wicked, very, very wicked, and this went beyond the pale, beyond my wildest dreams. I’d been so embarrassed when I bought my first one … and now I was keeping a stash at the office.
I remembered my first time in a sex shop. I was mortified to be standing in the Pink Cherry at midnight, perusing the section called “Female Fun.” But things were getting desperate. Not only was I a virgin, but I had no conceivable romantic life to speak of and my body was dying for a man’s touch, to explore the secret unknown, to explode somehow, somewhere, with a man’s help.
Except that there was no one with a Y chromosome in sight. So I’d taken myself to the Pink Cherry to browse in a grey sweatshirt, the hood up, trying to conceal my identity. Although it wasn’t possible, not really. The sex shop was brightly lit, more like a food emporium than a seedy den, and it was decorated with all sorts of bright pink banners and signs saying “His Pleasure,” “Her Pleasure,” helpful tidbits like that. It actually felt like a normal store, I could almost pretend I was grocery shopping or browsing for books.
But I was still embarrassed and when a friendly associate accosted me, I tried to shrink into myself, to disappear. No such luck.
“Hi, I’m Marie,” she chirped. “Anything I can help you find?”
“Um … um … what is that?” I said, gesturing vaguely to my right. I was too embarrassed to even pick up any of toys, my shyness overwhelming. But the clerk was really nice, a clean-cut blonde about my age with glasses and a friendly smile.
“Oh that!” she said merrily. “That’s a pocket rocket, perfect for a woman’s pleasure. You put this part on you,” she said, picking up the toy, “and then flick this little switch, and ta-da! Feels like heaven!”
I flushed again but was intrigued. Reaching out a tentative hand, I took the rocket from her and closed my palm around it, feeling its weight, its heft, the soft, sculpted rubber.
“And see, you can turn up the speed,” added Marie helpfully as her finger twitched on the controls. And just like that the pocket rocket went from a gentle hum to throbbing vibrations. Holy cow! That would feel amazing against my pussy and with a flaming red face, I mumbled, “I’ll take it.”
“Sure!” chirped Marie cheerfully. “Anything else? Let me ring this up for you.”
And just like that, it was done. Marie packed up my purchase in a brown paper bag, logo-less, totally discreet, and I hid it in my book bag, eager to get home and try it out.
And it was pure heaven. I loved it, coming on my own over and over again, moaning, squealing and gasping as I played with the controls, rubbing my clit with the little vibrator. But that experience lit a fire in me, opened up a yawning chasm and I found myself back at the Pink Cherry again and again, becoming friendly with Marie.
“How about this one?” the sales associate asked, holding up a glass shaft. Oh my god, it was so big, so commanding, and I’d never be able to use it, I was a virgin still and too scared to pop my own cherry. But I nodded wordlessly and the glass rod joined my growing collection, ten and then twenty sex toys, at my disposal for lonely nights at home.
It’s just that I’m rarely at home now. I work so much and then go to school, only dropping into bed at eleven p.m., dead tired from the combination of work, school, and commute. So I’ve moved most of my toy collection from home to work. Sitting alone in the basement of Luxor Corp. with nothing to do and no one around, I figure I’m not hurting anyone and no one will ever know. It’s my wicked little secret and the toys have provided me with some much-needed entertainment and relief. I use the Women’s Restroom a couple times a day now, exploring myself, playing with myself, and it’s been amazing. The hours go so much faster and I’m able to concentrate on my chemistry homework after it’s done, the orgasms clearing my mind, my body relaxed and sated.
And now, after Barry’s disgusting interlude in the bus, I found myself curiously horny. Oh no, it wasn’t the thought of Barry, no way. It was the thought of sex with a handsome man, his hands touching me, stroking my folds, making me wet, and letting me touch him in return. And oh god … but I was hungry.