Everybody's Drunk at the Sex Store!
by L.B. WilkensonPage 2 of 2
"It's huge!" she said, holding up our display version of it.
"Yeah, I said, "but I have one. It does the trick."
"But how do you get it in?" she said, looking horrified.
"Well, I don't put it inside."
"Phew! I was gonna say! I know you're black but—"
I’ll never know how she planned to end that sentence, because I immediately walked away. Idiot. Absolute idiot. I wasn't being unfair with that early crack about bludgeoning people.
Just to make sure we’re all on the same page, I took this to mean that she assumed:
a) because I'm black my boyfriends always are and
b) all black men have dicks the size of my forearm and
c) my vagina would therefore be used to punishment, so I’d be cool with jamming a Magic Wand up there.
Either that or she grew up with parents who taught her all black women are really into fisting.
Of course, her having said that had nothing to do with her being drunk and all to do with her being an ass.
After I closed the store, I went out with a friend and had way too many Margaritas in a bid to shake off the frustrations of the day. I was drunk out of my mind on the walk home and I kind of wish I’d had the courage to go up to some babe and tell him I had plans to take two baths. Just to see if I could that amazing line my own.
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