Chapter 26

Kendra

I was always surprised by how busy Wednesdays were in the store. I would even go so far as to call them the busiest days of the week. My main theory behind this fact was that Wednesday was in the middle of the week. Saturdays and Sundays were our slowest days. I figured this was because most people used our products on these days, rather than buying them. Mondays and Tuesdays were when people started to think about the possibility of getting something a little naughty for the wife or partner. Then Wednesday was the day where they actually had the balls to do it.

In that respect though, Wednesday was also the day when we had the fewest VIP customers. Wednesday was nearly always the day of the week where the amateur, first-timer came through our doors. That was another reason that they always felt busier than they actually were. I usually spent the majority of the day explaining our products to customers and showing them how to use them. It was exhausting.

The Wednesday after I had dinner with my ex, Michael, was no different. The doors to the store opened at nine in the morning, sharp. Fifteen minutes later, we had our very first customer. Fifteen minutes after that, we had our first sale. By ten o’clock, I had to abandon all hopes of doing any of the little tasks around the store that needed to get done. The store was far too busy to allow me to do anything but serve customers.

The endless stream of questions tired me out, but I had to admit that the customers here tended to be polite. Much more polite than the customers at the other candy store. They didn’t have the same sense of entitlement, maybe because we were literally the only place in the world that sold these products. They could get sex toys anywhere, but if they wanted candy sex toys, they had to come here. So they couldn’t risk pissing us off and getting banned from the store.

Polite or not, a girl could only deal with so many customers before needing a break. The only reprieve I had was knowing that Michael was going to take me out to lunch. It was just a matter of surviving until then.

After Michael left the previous night, I spent a long time considering my options and how I felt about him. I decided that the best thing for me to do was to give him another chance. My only complaint about him was that he was a little too nice and a little too normal. I really shouldn’t complain about that. Most women would have killed for a nice, respectable, employed man. I had already cried a dozen times over Grant, and I’d never once shed a tear over Michael. Not even after we broke up. Shouldn’t that be reason enough to give him another shot?

“I really don’t understand the point,” a slow-witted customer was saying to me. “I mean, I hear what you are saying. But I just don’t see the point.”

It was getting close to noon, and I had been serving this one customer for the better part of thirty minutes. When he had come into the store, he seemed genuinely eager and curious. I thought he was going to be a nice quick sale. But he had very quickly devolved into the type of customer that all retail workers hated—the type that needed their hand held with every single decision. The type that needed things spelled out for them step by step.

“The point is to add a little spice to the situation,” I said. “Anyone can go down on a girl, but with these sprinkles, it makes things a little more fun and adventurous.” I kept my tone light and jovial, making sure to smile the whole time. Inside, my patience was wearing thin. I was close to making up an excuse to abandon this customer altogether.

“But I don’t need sprinkles to eat my girlfriend out,” he said. “I do it all the time without them, and it seems to work just fine.” I was pretty sure he didn’t have a girlfriend. In fact, I got the distinct impression that he’d never seen a real vagina up close in real life. But I couldn’t tell him that, no matter how quickly it would end this tedious conversation. Maybe if I flashed him my goodies, he’d run away screaming in fear. I sighed internally. If only I was that kind of girl.

“You’re still not answering my question,” he said. “Do the sprinkles make it better for me or for her when I go down on her?”

“You know what?” I asked. “You might be right. These might not be for you. How about this, instead?” In desperation, I leaned around the customer and grabbed the closest thing on the shelf, a canister of flavored whipped cream. It was part of our oral collection and was probably one of our best sellers. “This is similar, but a little more practical. This works for either partner.”

He frowned. “What? So I need to give my girlfriend some incentive to blow me? She blows me every night without the need for whipped cream.”

I struggled to suppress the sigh that formed on the tip of my tongue. All I could do was push through and hope that he either lost interest and left, or had a sudden heart attack and fell to the ground, unconscious. Those were my two best bets.

“It’s not really about that. Think of it like this—”

“There she is!” Without warning, a pair of hands wrapped themselves around my eyes, blocking off my view. I grabbed at them and pulled them down, then spun around to see who it was.

“Michael,” I said, letting out a sigh of relief. I was glad for the distraction.

“I’m early,” he said. “Finish up here, and let me know when you’re ready. I’ll amuse myself by stealing some candy.” He turned to the customer. “And sorry for interrupting.” Michael clapped the man on the shoulder.

The customer grimaced at his touch, before turning back to face me. “So, go on. Tell me, why would I need whipped cream as an incentive for my wife to blow me?”

His girlfriend had suddenly become his wife, but I decided to not point that out. Nobody was putting his cock in their mouth, whether it was covered in whipped cream or not. “Well, like I was saying—”

“Hold on a minute!” Michael exclaimed, stepping in between myself and the customer. I thought that he had walked away, but clearly, he hadn’t gone far enough to miss the customer’s question. “What did you just ask her?”

“The whipped cream,” the customer answered, not looking the least bit put off. Big shock that he didn’t understand social cues. “It’s sold as an incentive to get people’s wives and girlfriends to blow them. But I was just telling her that my wife does it every night. Sometimes twice. So why would I need the cream?”

The customer held the can of cream up for Michael to take, which he did. As he studied it, his face dropped, then contorted. His eyes narrowed with what I thought would be rage. But this was Michael. He wasn’t capable of such a dramatic reaction.

“Kendra,” he began, keeping his voice calm and steady. “What the hell is this? Why are you selling... who...” I could tell he had a million conflicting questions propelling themselves through his head, and he struggled to decide which was the most pressing.

Funnily enough, I hadn’t even considered what might happen when he came here to pick me up. I had been at the job for so long now that the strangeness of the situation had faded entirely from my consciousness. I didn’t even stop to consider what an outsider might think when they came in here for the first time.

“Michael. If you want to wait for me in the back? I just need to finish with—”

“No, don’t worry,” the customer said. “It’s quite all right. I don’t think any of this is for me. Good luck with it all. And uh, good luck with this.” He gestured at the obviously enraged Michael. Then he turned and scurried from the store without hesitation.

As glad as I was to see that particular customer leave, I was also a little mad at how it had happened. I had wasted thirty minutes with him, and it would have been nice to get a sale out of it. Instead, he was scared away by my prudish boyfriend. Or whatever we were.

“What was that?” I turned on Michael, hands on my hips.

“Me?” he asked, looking shocked by my reaction. “How am I in the wrong here? You’re the one selling sex. Acting like it’s an everyday thing. I thought you worked at a candy store?”

“I do. This is a candy store. Everything in here is edible and sweet. It just so happens that they can also be used for sex. That’s all.” I could tell that my explanation wasn’t going to cut it.

“You’re basically whoring yourself out. I mean, look at what you’re wearing!” He blurted the last part out, his voice raised. So much so that a few of the closer customers turned around to see who was causing the ruckus.

“Michael can we finish this out back?”

“I just can’t believe you’re okay serving all these perverts all day long. They just want to fuck you, so they come in here and—”

“Come on!” I hissed through my teeth, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into the VIP room which I knew to be empty. His last exclamation had been even louder than his first, and I didn’t need him calling the clientele perverts. That wasn’t good for business, no matter what business you were in.

Inside the VIP room, I instantly realized that it was probably the worst place to take him. His eyes nearly bulged from their sockets as he took the room in, very quickly calculating what the place was. “Great! The place even has sex booths! How can you defend this?”

“They’re not sex booths,” I pleaded. “They’re for VIP customers who want a private area to further inspect the product. Here.” I opened one of the curtains and showed him the booth and the iPad built into the wall. “You see. It’s just an instructional video that—”

“That what? That shows people how to insert a... is that a chocolate dildo?” His eyes landed on the thick brown shaft. A feature in every private booth.

I let out a long sigh, took him by the hand, and pulled him from the booth. I then made sure that his eyes were focused on me and me alone. “Look,” I began, keeping my voice calm and rational. “This is me. This is what I do. I like it, and I’m good at it. The money is great, the job is rewarding, and I never ever have to do anything that makes me uncomfortable. Understand?”

“Yeah but...”

“If you’re serious about us and what you said last night, then this is all a part of it. It comes with the territory. Take it or leave it.” I held his stare in mine, showing him how serious I was.

It was Michael, so I was sure he wouldn’t put up a fight. Not only did he hate confrontation, but he was also nuts about me. He probably could have walked in on me having sex, and I still could have talked him down.

And sure enough, he soon let out a big sigh. “Okay, maybe I overreacted just a smidge. I just didn’t expect it, that’s all. But if you are happy, and this job is what makes you happy, then I’m fine with it.”

I let out a sigh of relief, and he pulled me in for a kiss.

The moment that our lips touched, the door to the VIP section opened up. At first, I didn’t even bother stopping. I figured it was just Selena or some random customer. They could wait. But the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat forced me to pull myself from Michael’s lips.

Grant stood in the doorway to the VIP section, staring at me and Michael. He’d very clearly seen the two of us kissing. “Grant?” I said, shocked by his appearance.

“Kendra,” he said, his voice neutral. In fact, his entire stance and demeanor were neutral. I tried to get a read on him, but I couldn’t see any sign of an emotional response at all. “I was looking for you on the floor.”

If he had been angry, that would have been fine. At least that, I knew how to handle. But his cold, almost distant attitude toward me and Michael scared me. I had no idea what he was going to do or say, but something told me that I wasn’t going to like it.

“Right,” I said. “I was just showing Michael—this is Michael by the way. I was showing him the back room and, you know, the store. I was showing him the store.”

“Hey, I’m Michael,” he said, taking a step forward and offering Grant his hand. Grant didn’t take it. He looked at it for a second before looking back up at me.

“I wanted to ask you about these,” he said, indicating the box he held in his arms. I didn’t even notice it at first. “They were yours after all. I figured it was only right to let you decide what to do with them.” Grant stepped into the room, around Michael’s still outstretched hand, and put the box on the floor. He then opened it, and my heart froze.

“What are those?” Michael asked.

I didn’t need Grant to tell me what was in the box. I knew exactly what they were. They were the gummy molds of my pussy. A whole stack of them, in a wide range of flavors and colors. If I’d ever wondered what my pussy would look like blue, I had my answer.

“They’re nothing—” I tried before Grant cut me off.

“They’re gummy molds of Kendra’s pussy,” Grant said, blankly. “Impressive, no? Believe me, the men who took the mold were more than impressed by the model they had to work with, or on, as it were.”

“They’re what?!” Michael exploded. It was the first time I had really heard his voice raised. I didn’t know what was more terrifying, that or the cold smirk that Grant wore as his eyes danced between the two of us.

“It’s not what you think,” I began, trying to calm Michael down. “All they are... they’re just...” I wasn’t too sure how to explain the boxful of my candy pussies. Really, they were what they were. And I didn’t see what the issue was. It wasn’t like people were sleeping with me personally if they used these things. And it wasn’t like I was sleeping around myself. They were just molds that happened to resemble my pussy. That was it. But somehow, I didn’t think that Michael would see it that way.

“What do you do with gummy molds of your, um, lady parts?” Michael asked, his face livid.

“You fuck them usually,” Grant cut in. “And then you eat them. I suppose you could eat them without fucking them, but that kind of seems like a waste. And I guess you can practice your cunnilingus skills on them, too. Kind of the best of both worlds.”

“Fuck them?” Michael choked. I went to grab his hand, only for him to pull it away from me. “People will be fucking molds of your pussy?”

“And eating them,” Grant added, gleefully. “And I have to say, without a doubt, Kendra has the most delicious flavors of all. I can attest to that personally.”

If Michael were anyone else, I knew he would have turned and punched Grant right in the face. And Grant would have deserved it. But since it was Michael, he did no such thing. His nostrils flared, his face contorted with rage, and he stormed from the room.

“What is wrong with you?” I screamed at Grant, who remained where he was. His face had gone back to that passive expression, and you wouldn’t know that he had just said and done the most horrible of things.

“I’m not the one that has a problem with your job,” he said. “That’s him. Whoever the hell he is.”

I could tell now that Grant was actually upset with me. His initial reaction when he saw me and Michael was one of self-defense and preservation. Better to not show his emotions instead of letting them seep out and make him appear weak. Classic Grant.

I didn’t think he was weak, but I knew he was broken. It was suddenly all so clear. Every time that Grant even came close to caring about me, he got hurt. I’m sure seeing me kiss another man only added to that.

But even if that was the case, it was still no excuse. Michael was a good guy and didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Hell, I was a good person too, and I know I didn’t deserve to be treated like that. Without saying a word, I stormed past Grant and into the store, determined to go after Michael.