SoloPlay (2 page)

Only Victoria, of the all-night sixty-nine, was willing to shed any light on the problem.

“I’ve made a few calls already, Vicki. I don’t understand why I’m getting varying degrees of
fuck off
and
hell no
.”

Victoria’s laugh reminded him of Chaucer. And treadmills. “How old are you, Mark?”

“Thirty-two. Why?”

“How old do you think I am?”

“Twenty-five,” he said, shaving off a few years to be safe.

“Nice. I’m actually thirty-one. I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’m looking for more than just great sex. Even sex with you,” she added drily. “You didn’t call me for a hookup, Mark. You just asked me to play with myself! I think it’s kind of amusing, but unless you’ve got something better to offer, you can put me in the
hell no
category too.”

Mark sighed. “Thanks, Vicki.”

“Take care, Mark. Good luck.”

Strikeout.

He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to find willing bodies. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the necessary equipment to test everything himself, and he wasn’t so naive as to think every product he’d dreamed up would be a sure winner in the competitive marketplace.

Could he put sex toy testers on staff? A plan began to take shape in his mind, but he wasn’t sure if it was possible.

Or legal.

Chapter Three

As soon as her shift at the library ended, Alisa walked down the block to Come Again. She pulled the glass door open and a bell tinkled overhead, calling attention to her. She glanced quickly left and right before she stepped inside.

The store was cheery and well-lit. She slipped toward the back, walking swiftly through an aisle lined with small, colorful bottles and skirting a man who was closely examining their labels. As she crossed the middle aisle, she saw a knot of customers clustered around a book rack. She paused. A book might help.

Quit stalling, you big chicken. If you could learn it in a book, you’d already know.

She continued to search the store, ducking around a strappy swing hanging from the ceiling and weaving her way through foam cushions scattered on the floor like kinky bean bag chairs.

Alisa stopped short as she reached the back wall.

Bingo.
Her heart began to pound. There was an entire wall of vibrators, stacked to the ceiling, in every shape and size, with every conceivable attachment. Some were double-ended. Others were spiked and wiggly. Some actually did, indeed, look like powerful back massagers. She jerked her eyes away from a particularly lifelike model and scanned the wall, overwhelmed by the sheer number, colors and options available to her. Somewhere in this store, there had to be a device that could turn her glimmer into something significant.

Behind her, Alisa could hear two women chatting about butt plugs. She listened, fascinated. One voice in particular caught her attention. It wasn’t loud, exactly, but it carried, probably because Alisa expected the words “butt plug” to be spoken in a whisper, not a chuckle. She sneaked a quick peek over her shoulder.

Wow. The woman was…brave?

Admittedly, she had never been in a sex shop and the girl’s outfit might be the norm, but chains and black leather tended to draw the eye no matter the locale. She risked another glance.

The leather-clad girl clasped her companion by the arm and led her to another section.
She must work here
, Alisa thought, watching her slide a plastic case into the other woman’s free hand. They laughed, and the girl in leather gave the customer a warm hug as she handed her off to a dreadlocked brunette behind the counter for ring out.

Alisa stepped behind an end cap.
Not me, not me
, she thought and breathed again when she heard the girl’s low, sparkly voice near the front of the shop where she must be helping the guy in the personal lubricant aisle. Clearly, he had discovered that the world held way more options than K-Y Jelly. She could relate.

Since the book-browsing crowd had taken off while she was eavesdropping, she and the lube guy were the only customers in the store now. Unless she wanted a personal sex toy consult from that salesgirl, she’d better get moving. Alisa turned back to the wall of vibrators. God, there must be five hundred of them. Maybe she should just grab one and hope for the best. She closed her eyes and reached blindly for the wall.

Just as her fingers closed around a plastic package, she heard a low chuckle right behind her. Her eyes snapped open and she accidentally knocked the toy off its hook.

“I’m not sure you want to go with the ‘lucky pick’ approach when choosing a vibrator.” Leather girl gave her a friendly smile. “Quite a selection, huh?” the girl—woman, really—continued. She was dressed like the hippest of hip Goth teenagers, but she must be at least Alisa’s age, maybe a bit older. Her dark eyes were heavily outlined in deep black and highlighted with gold eye shadow. The rest of her makeup was bold too. The effect was exotic and very pretty at the same time.

Alisa gazed at her, unable to do more than nod. As the salesgirl bent to rescue the toy from the floor, her low-cut bustier dipped dangerously and her short leather skirt rode up to the top of her thighs. She replaced the toy on its hook. “I can help you narrow it down, if you like. Do you like to play with your clit or are you a G-spot girl?” The question was absurdly direct, yet inoffensive, as if she were discussing bananas at the supermarket. Sexual pleasure was all in a day’s work for her, after all. Apparently she was good at it too, because lube guy was standing at the counter handing over a small, purple bottle as if he were reluctant to part with it for even a moment.

The salesgirl glanced at the counter too. “Breastfeeding wife. Estrogen issues,” she offered. “Oops. I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“I won’t tell,” Alisa said.

“Thanks. Now back to you, and I promise, really, I won’t tell a soul. How do you like to come?”

Suddenly, Alisa could understand how the man, so intent on the labels, so isolated, could abruptly spill his guts to this beautiful stranger. Something about her made Alisa want to confide in her too. There was no judgment in her eyes. No apparent agenda. Well, except sales, naturally. Could she try to be matter-of-fact about pleasure too? She was in a place where every person who stepped through the door had sex on the brain, after all.

The words broke free in a rush. “No clue. I’ve never done it.” She clapped a hand over her mouth. Had she really just said that? Out loud?

“Really?” Leather girl grinned. “Oh, honey. You are going to be so happy you came here! I can set you up so sweet, you’ll never want to leave your house again. I’m Crystal.” She held out her hand.

Alisa lowered her hand from her face and took it. She felt sparks shoot up her arm.

Crystal arched an eyebrow and her lips curved slightly. “Hmm.” The noise was a faint hum in her throat. She caressed Alisa’s hand with her thumb before letting her go, making her shiver. Goose bumps broke out on her arms, then her legs.

Crystal turned to the wall. “Not the rabbit. The tiger? Nah. Straight vibrating egg? Maybe. With tickler? Even better. Still, I think we’re missing something. You need…you want…hmm.” Crystal made the noise again.

Alisa knew she was staring, but she couldn’t help herself. Crystal had crossed her arms as she surveyed the vibrators, and her breasts spilled over the top of her bustier. The lush, smooth curves looked real, not fake, and yet they were perfect. Alisa suddenly wondered what they would look like naked.

She shifted back and forth in her shoes. The motion rubbed her thighs together and made her aware of the fact that she was getting wet. She froze. If her feet hadn’t felt nailed to the floor, she would have bolted, stunned and ashamed.

Crystal turned to her and smiled. Her black eyes glowed with triumph. “I’ve got it.” Her arm brushed Alisa’s shoulder as she reached to pluck an item from the shelf, and Alisa shivered. “You’re a butterfly girl.” She held up the pink device for inspection.

The wings were made of translucent plastic, rounded and ribbed to resemble the pattern on a real butterfly’s wings. It looked innocent and shiny, like a child’s teething toy, but the silver bullet at the heart of the butterfly proclaimed its sexual purpose.

Alisa’s breath stuttered in her throat and she could feel a light dew of perspiration break out on her upper lip. Her armpits began to prickle.
Breathe.
In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Yoga breathing. Nothing wrong with being gay. Not that she
was
gay.

“You could go with that model over there too, but I like the antennae on this little guy much better. Nice and flexible.” Crystal leaned closer. Her scent was pure musk, a heady, rich aroma that made Alisa think of mink coats and incense. And sex. “Put one on each side of your clit and you’ll be in heaven. It’s also silent. Totally discreet. You could even take it to work if you’re having one of those days. Where do you work, by the way?” Crystal led her toward the register.

As they walked, Alisa noticed an exotic flower tattoo on Crystal’s shoulder, peeking out from underneath her dark, curling hair. She tried not to notice her perfect ass. That her legs were killer. That her walk was easy with a sexuality and body confidence that made Alisa realize she was missing the boat somewhere. Somewhere important.

It took her a minute to remember the question. “I work at the library,” Alisa finally told her.

“Oh, that’s perfect.” Crystal’s dark eyes laughed at her.

“What do you mean?”

“You know, the whole hot librarian thing. It’s classic.”

“Oh.” Alisa bit her lip. Was Crystal flirting with her?

“Let’s check the batteries.” She casually plucked the butterfly from its plastic enclosure and flipped a switch. “Here—feel.” Crystal reached for her hand.

The buzz was insistent against her palm. Transfixed, Alisa reached out with one finger to stroke the whipping antennae. She imagined how that would feel against her…clit. She practiced thinking the word.

She felt Crystal’s glance sweep over her chest and realized her nipples were visible through her thin blouse, begging for attention. She shifted, trying to make her breasts less noticeable. The slide of herself in her damp panties increased her agitation.

Crystal slid the butterfly into a paper bag. “It comes with stock batteries. Do you want a backup set?”

She shook her head and fumbled for cash as Crystal rang up the sale.

“Here’s my business card.” Crystal handed her a pink card along with her change.

Alisa dropped the change into her purse but held on to the card. She gave Crystal a brief smile, afraid to look at her for too long because she knew she would start staring again.

Crystal chatted on. “You are going to love the butterfly. Of course, when you want something inside you, you’ll have to come back for reinforcements. Ask for me when you do. Or give me a call. Helping people find what turns them on is my specialty.”

Alisa glanced at the business card in her hand.
Crystal LaRusso, Sensual Psychic. Get in Touch and Come Again.
Finally, the librarian in her kick-started her brain and she found her voice. “What’s a sensual psychic?”

Crystal’s eyes met hers. “Don’t freak, sweetie, but I know exactly how you’re feeling right now.”

Alisa inhaled too fast, choked, and began to cough.

Crystal’s bright laugh made her cough harder.

“I block everyone out most of the time.” She stepped around the counter. “Took forever to get the hang of that, but I’m pretty good at it now. I usually don’t snoop unless I’m invited, and I’m really sorry about that. I shouldn’t have touched your hand before, but I couldn’t resist.”

“Are you joking?”

“No.” A small smile curved her lips. “Why don’t we go back to my office and talk about it?”

Alisa took a sharp breath.

Warning bells rang in her head. She was in a downtown porn shop flirting with a woman who claimed to be a psychic—if she were less desperate she would get the hell out of here. On the other hand, she couldn’t deny her curiosity. Psychic or not, there was something about this unusual woman that called to her. What if Crystal
could
help her?

She allowed herself to be drawn away from the register.

Crystal called to her dark-haired co-worker, who was now assisting yet another customer in the lube aisle, that she was going to take her dinner break. She pulled Alisa toward the back of the store, where a door was camouflaged by the rainbow wall of vibrators. Crystal opened it for her, then led her down a short hallway and into a small room.

Although it held a large desk, the room didn’t look like an office. The chaise lounge parked against one wall and the red velvet couch in front of the desk made it feel more like a bedroom, especially when Crystal locked the door behind them. The walls were painted an intimate color, a shade somewhere between brick and burgundy, and swathes of exotic material draped artfully over the furniture and lamps increased the sensual atmosphere. Crystal took her hand and led her to the couch. “What’s your name?”

“Alisa Mane.”

“You got under my skin, Alisa. Not too many girls do that to me. And almost no men.” Crystal’s lips curved. She took Alisa’s other hand and pulled her down onto the couch facing her. “Let me read you again. I’m dying to. I caught a glimpse of desire, and determination, and…hurt.”

Alisa had been hiding the hurt part, even from herself.

“May I?” Crystal pressed.

Alisa shifted on the couch. “I don’t understand what you’re asking me.”

“Let me help you understand yourself. You’re in a sex shop, but you don’t know how you like to come. You feel totally straight, but you came back here with me,” she mused. “You’re broadcasting so loud I can barely shut you out, but your eyes don’t tell me a thing. You keep it all in your head, don’t you? What happened to you? Why are you here?”

Again, Alisa felt bound to confide in her. “I skipped lunch to have sex with my boyfriend, then he dumped me.”

“His loss.” Crystal stroked her palm.

“Not so much. Apparently, I’m frigid.”

Crystal’s low chuckle was reassuring. “Every jerk who misfires tries to peddle that line. Did you enjoy the sex?”