'The Errand'
by: Janice R. Sager
rating: R for subject matter
Warnings: discussion of sex toys
Genre: Gen
Pairings: None
Category: Humor
Notes: I can't believe I'm writing this...
Ben frowned as he double-checked the address Inspector Thatcher had given him. She'd been running late for a meeting with the FBI concerning a possible extradition and reluctantly asked him to pick up a gift she'd ordered for her friend's wedding shower later that afternoon. Her reluctance had confused him slightly but now, reading the sign on the window, he understood: 'Truly Yours, Intimate Boutique'.
"Oh, dear..."
Dief offered a comment and he transferred his frown to his canine companion. "I am not," he answered firmly.
The wolf offered a series of small whuffs.
"Oh, for heaven's sakes!" Ben chose to ignore the canine laughter and turned his attention to the task at hand. He was a grown man after all, not some naive teenager! He'd been in such establishments before. It wasn't like he was entering a brothel or anything. All he had to do was pick up a package and be on his way. Really, sometimes Dief had the strangest... Ben squared his shoulders, remembered to remove his hat and entered the store, chastising himself for even thinking about feeling embarrassed!
He was immediately confronted by a mannequin dressed in...
"Oh, dear!" he hissed again, quickly turning away and shoving images of Inspector Thatcher in such an outfit as far out of mind as possible. He felt his face heat with the inappropriate thought and instantly fought to distract himself. That wasn't easy to do surrounded by racks and displays of... of...
He found himself staring in confusion at what appeared to be a series of pink elephants overlapping each other where they hang on a chain against the wall. It took him a long moment to realize they were male thongs and the nose was where...
"May I help you?"
He practically jumped out of his boots! Unseen by him, one of the clerks had noted his entry and approached him. She watched his expression run through a gambit of emotions, the primary ones being shock and embarrassment, and offered a sympathetic smile.
"No! I mean, yes! I mean... Um!" He had to clear his throat and reached up to tug at a suddenly tight collar. He took a quick cleansing breath and ordered himself to stop acting like a fool. "Um - yes," he managed in a reasonable voice and somehow even returned the young lady's patient smile. "I'm here to pick up a package for Inspector Thatcher." He fumbled in his pocket for the claim check, pasting the smile firmly in place to mask the unfounded and rather idiotic terror he was feeling... There! He practically shoved it at the clerk.
"Ah! The gift basket," she nodded as she read it. "It's in the back. I'll go get it."
He nodded politely and watched as she disappeared behind the counter. Feeling self-conscious and trying not to look around, he approached the register to wait for her. At least there was no one else in the establishment to see his overt discomfiture. He was glad there'd been a 'No Dogs Allowed' sign out front. Dief would be having a belly laugh.
He glanced down through the glass counter and immediately glanced back up. He could not have seen right. He knew he *had*. He knew what the objects were. He just...
His curiosity got the better of him. He first made sure he was indeed alone, and then glanced down again.
There were several items on the three tiers of glass shelves. The ones that he'd recognized, and which had sent his eyes jumping back upward again, were on the bottom shelf. There, neatly laid out according to size, was a variety of dildos. Large, small, plastic, metal, life-like, grotesque ... was that supposed to be a Santa Clause?!
The squeak of the door behind the counter alerted him to the clerk's return. He practically gave himself whiplash as his head jerked up, but at least he managed not to jump through the roof this time. She was carrying a large cellophane wrapped, white wicker basket in one hand and consulting a list in the other. She set the basket on the counter without looking at him. "Okay, let's see here... Inspector Thatcher, #4, Wedding Shower theme... seventy-five dollars, prepaid. Let's just make sure everything's here..."
Ben tried to look anywhere but the basket as she read off her list, but found that his own sense of duty forced him to double-check her.
"Candles..." Two white voltives. "Potpourri pot..." White ceramic with entwined gold rings on the front. Quite suitable. "Potpourri..." A tropical blend, he noted. "Feather duster..." A feather duster? It was there... "Honey dust..." He lifted a brow in curiosity but didn't say anything. "Massage oil... Do you see the massage oil?" she asked, turning the basket as she hunted for it through the cellophane.
He spotted it sticking out from under an acrylic box. 'Passion fruit flavor'. He cleared his throat again and pointed it out.
"Thanks," she said, and frowned at her list again. "Matching bride and groom thongs..." A miniature tuxedo and white 'veil' with barely enough elastic to hold it in place. He glanced up, again tugging on his collar. Was the thermostat broken in here? It seemed to be getting rather warm... "Cock ring," she read and he froze momentarily in surprise. Inspector Thatcher had actually ordered a cock ring? Not that... It wasn't for her, he reminded himself. Of course it wasn't for her! She was a woman. But that wasn't what he'd meant - and why was he arguing with himself about what he'd meant? "And Ben-wa balls. All here!" the clerk decided happily.
"Ben what..?" He wasn't conscious of having spoken until he heard his own voice.
"Ben-wa," she repeated, and pointed to where two balls, looking like large ball bearings about an inch in diameter each, lay nestled in dark blue velvet within a clear acrylic case. "They're for internal vaginal stimulation," she answered with a perfectly straight face. "They're also very good for strengthening the vaginal muscles."
He frowning in confusion, curious despite himself. "Strengthening?"
"They're a little heavy," she explained. "You have to use the muscles to help hold them in as you walk. That's how they work, by rolling around and against each other as a woman moves."
"Oh!" he offered lamely, not at all surprised when his voice came out slightly higher than normal. "I... I see. Is there anything else?"
She misunderstood him. "They're also said to help promote multiple orgasms."
"No, I..." He fought to dislodge the sudden image he had of Inspector Thatcher walking across her office and suddenly throwing her head back as an orgasm caused by such a device-- No! He mustn't even think it! "Bag!" he managed to ask curtly. A large shopping bag was produced and, forcing a polite smile, Ben grabbed up the package and ran for the Consulate car.
Dief barked as he was putting it in gear and he suddenly realized he was so disconcerted he'd almost forgotten his friend! With a frown he got out and quickly let the wolf in frowning as Dief offered a less than polite comment. "I am thinking no such thing," he rebuked the insolent animal. "Watch your mouth or I'll wash it out with soap." he slamed the car door and quickly rounded the car again to climb behind the steering wheel once more.
Multiple organisms...
The honk of a car horn as he was puling out sent his foot to the break and a serge of adrenaline through his body. "Sorry! Sorry!" he called apologetically as the other car maneuvered around him.
"Ya need glasses!?" the driver yelled angrily.
"Sorry!" he called again. What he needed was a cold shower! He shook his head and ignored Dief's laughter as he forced his thoughts from the basket beside him and back to the necessity of driving. The dog was never going to let him live this down...
***
The end
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