“Yep.” I sort through sweaters and blouses, my thoughts veering to Elijah when I stumble upon a short, black dress.I bet he’d like this.My imagination runs wild with thoughts of his hands working under the hem, beneath mypanties—
“That’s a cute dress,” Dani says, snapping me back to the store. “This Elijah guy must really be getting to you if you’re debating buyingthat.”
I glare at her. “Why do I take that as aninsult?”
“Because it was. You never dress sexy.” She smiles. “Which is why you should getit.”
I endup with the dress and a black-lace thong. Dani ends up with three new suits and a Louis Vuittonbag.
We’re almost to the subway station when the giant, pink sale banners in a shop window catch my attention. I glance at the sign over the door.Shag Land Fantasy Shop. Cupping my hands to the window, I try to peer inside, but the posters hide the inside fromview.
“What are you doing?” Dani stops besideme.
“Have you been in here?” I thumb at thewindow.
“No.” She points at the sign and frowns. “It’s called Shag Land, Charlie. I’m all for sex shops, but ShagLand?”
“They all have stupid names, Dani.” I step inside and an electronic chime announces our arrival. I have the door propped open with my foot. The welcome bell sounds over and over as I glance at Dani who’s yet to cross thethreshold.
Shaking her head, she walks in and shoves the door closed. Her brows knit in a perplexed scowl. “Who are youtoday?”
“I’m justcurious…”
Skimpy lingerie cover the tables. A colorful array of toys fill the shelves on the far wall. A man wearing khaki shorts and a polo peruses a collection of buttplugs.
Dani leans beside my ear. “He doesn’t look like the type of guy who would be intokink.”
“I guess everyone has their secrets.” I take a leather whip from one of the displays, threading the tassels through my fingers before I put itback.
This lucrative industry revolves around people’s fantasies, and, suddenly, I feel like I’m in a minority. That I’m somehow sexuallyinept.
Groaning, Dani goes to the far wall, grabs a box, and vehemently shakes it. “Seven inches,” she says, holding the box above her head and rattlingit.
I glance at the bright yellow “7” right beside Throbbin Hood’s pretty face. “So people buy thisstuff?”
Her face scrunches in a disbelieving snarl. “Yes. Charlie. Yes! Most people buy thisstuff.”
Mr. Polo Shirt steps to the counter with his curly tail butt plug, and something comes over me. I want to experience life. I want to do stuff I wouldn’t even tell Dani and Steph about. I want to use Demi Williams as my way to express the things Charlie never would, to set myselffree.
I just need a change. Dammit. I need achange.
