I peeked down Aisle 1 before deciding I could explore it. This was a tame section full of costumes. Maid outfits, sexy policeman uniforms, and accessories like handcuffs and boas filled the shelves. Rounding the corner, I saw Aisle 2 was more of the same. Edible undies and chocolate sauce for the body seemed benign enough.
Aisle 3 was a bonanza of exactly what I was looking for—vibrators. Not the top-of-the-line museum-quality ones like in the glass case, but your everyday vibrators. There were small ones and really large ones, vibrators shaped like a tube of lipstick, and dildos of all colors, anything from neon-tinted to run-of-the-mill flesh-colored ones in hues from peach to black. I practically tiptoed to the middle of the aisle, and my hand wavered on its way to snag a small version, a purple pocket rocket.
“That’s a good one. Powerful,” came a voice from behind me.
Pretty sure I peed myself a little, I stood totally still, gripping the vibrator but afraid to turn around.
“Excuse me, I just have to grab something from right in front of you.”
A hand reached around me, and its long fingers with black-tipped French-manicured nails sorted through the pocket rockets before settling on a green one.
“Got it!” the sultry female voice sang in my ears.
Curious, I turned to find a stunning blonde standing behind me, long and lean, her hair tousled in waves. Her face was flawless, her makeup heavy and perfect, and from the look of her dewy skin, she wasn’t much older than me.
“Good,” I choked out. Then out of nowhere, I asked, “You recommend this one?”
“Your first?”
I nodded and dropped my gaze, noting the carpet was a deep red covered in hot pink kisses.
“Hey, don’t be shy. I can help you,” she said quietly. “That’s a good one for a quickie, but if you really want the full effect, you should get this one.” She reached across me again and pulled something called “The Rabbit” off the display hook.
When I took the package and eyed it warily, she laughed at me. “It’s a bit much, but I promise you, it will get the job done.”
“Thanks.” I was humiliated. Not because I was purchasing a vibrator, but by the fact that I was so unfamiliar with my own sexuality. The memory of rushing out on Blane flickered in my head.
“I’m Sarina,” the sexy woman said to me, her hand outstretched.
“Catie.” I took her fingers in mine and she shook my hand firmly.
“Want to ask me anything else?”
“You come here a lot?” Suddenly, I was intrigued by this woman, who was clearly comfortable with her own sexuality.
“I do. Sometimes more than others. This is actually for my boss.” She waved the vibrator around casually, like it was a box of Oreos.
“Your boss?” What kind of boss needs his or her employee to pick up vibrators?
“I make adult films, and we had one of these break on the set.” She pitched her voice low, apparently not from shame, but so she wouldn’t attract unwanted attention to us.
“Wow,” was all I could get out.
“It’s a living,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t normally go around sharing that information, but you seem nice, and look like you could use a helping hand.”
“I’m not a virgin,” I said quickly, shooting that misconception down right away.
She giggled. “It’s okay if you were, but I get it. Inexperienced in finding your own orgasm?”
“Something like that. More like I panic from intimacy. It makes me feel dirty.”
She ran her hand down my sleeve and looked me in the eye. “Sweetie, you should never feel dirty when it comes to your needs.”
I nodded.
“You checking out?”
“Yeah, I’m going to get both,” I said sheepishly.
We walked together toward the register, where the guy with the black nails sat reading some nudie mag. As we paid for our purchases, Sarina and I made small talk about the weather, the impending snow and shit, as if we were in the grocery store checkout line rather than buying sex toys.
As we walked outside into the cold and said our good-byes, a light bulb went off in my head. This was the type of woman I wanted to write about in my thesis paper—a woman in the porn industry living in the same small town as Stanwick and her stuck-up ideals.
“Hey!” I called to Sarina, halting her as she walked over to her SUV. “Can I come with you? Check it out?” I ran over to where she stood and said, “I’ll stay out of your way. I’m just curious.”
There went my impetuous Italian side again. Here I was, Cute Catie P., the nun of Southern A, asking to visit the set of a porn movie.
Sarina frowned down at me for a second, considering. “Sure, but if Frank asks, tell him you recognized me from the videos. I don’t want him thinking I run around telling people what we do right here in the middle of boring Ohio.”
“Of course.”
Her SUV beeped as she popped her car locks and asked, “Want a ride?”
I grinned. “My mom always said not to ride with strangers, but she also probably wouldn’t be a fan of porn, so fuck her.” I slid into the passenger seat, a little excited at this crazy adventure, and away we sped.