"You're good people."
Sep. 30th, 2007 03:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elfsOmaha and I were down to the last bit of our bottle of Kama Sutra "serenity" massage oil, so I went into one of those mid-scale lingere all-in-one adult toystores scattered throughout the geography of suburbia to buy a new bottle. Lingere, massage oils and gag gifts up front; mainstream sex toys (no manrammers, dragon's eggs or even fleshlights back there) and porn along the back wall. The woman behind the counter, one of those women sufficiently padded so that there was not one bone visible on her, smiled as I walked it. "I like your kilt!"
I thanked her and waved her off; I knew what I was looking for. After a few minutes, I found it and we went started through the transaction process when she said, "Oh, this one's all goopy. Let me get you one that hasn't been fondled by people who've been playing with the tester bottle." She came back a few seconds later with the exchange and said, "We do that for the good people."
"Why do I qualify?" I said. It was a bit of a mystery; it's not as if I go into there more than three or four times a year.
"You treat me like a human being. You look me in the eye."
"As opposed to?"
"As opposed to the ones who scuttle in, grab a movie, throw money at you like you were contaminated, and scuttle out again."
I just couldn't picture that kind of long-coat wearing, hunched-over figure walking through Lover's Package. I mean, it's no Babeland, but it's hardly one of the skeezy bookstores that dot the more rundown corridors of Seattle.
I thanked her and waved her off; I knew what I was looking for. After a few minutes, I found it and we went started through the transaction process when she said, "Oh, this one's all goopy. Let me get you one that hasn't been fondled by people who've been playing with the tester bottle." She came back a few seconds later with the exchange and said, "We do that for the good people."
"Why do I qualify?" I said. It was a bit of a mystery; it's not as if I go into there more than three or four times a year.
"You treat me like a human being. You look me in the eye."
"As opposed to?"
"As opposed to the ones who scuttle in, grab a movie, throw money at you like you were contaminated, and scuttle out again."
I just couldn't picture that kind of long-coat wearing, hunched-over figure walking through Lover's Package. I mean, it's no Babeland, but it's hardly one of the skeezy bookstores that dot the more rundown corridors of Seattle.
