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The busiest time of year for most retail outfits is Christmas, but for us it’s Valentine’s Day and Pride weekend. Our storeowner really got into the Pride festivities — he must’ve spent thousands of dollars on the float, DJ and dancers. I get paid minimum wage, but it’s cool.
PS — the girl at the far right kept showing her tits.
We handed out thousands of paddles (paint stirrers) that read, “Spank Someone Happy!” The crowd went crazy for the paddles, slapping them together in time to the music, sword fighting and, of course, smacking the hell out of one another. I let a few people spank my behind and I paddled a cop who tried to act like he didn’t like it, but who totally did. Freaky-cop, send me an email.
For the last year, much of my life has been taken up by sex, sexuality and “alternative living.” It’s not that I was particularly prudish before I started working at a sex store, but I was generally unconcerned with the politics of sexuality.
What does society consider normative sexual behavior? Why is that? Which people are marginalized because of societal opinion? I like to pretend that working in a sex store is just like any other retail job, but being forced to think about these things on a daily basis is why it’s not.
The parade wrapped up in the West Village. By the end of it I was exhausted and limping in my heels, my wig was askew and just enough of my lightning bolt had washed away to make it look like I had a black eye. Michelle told me I looked like an exhausted hooker finishing up an eight-hour shift. It was an awesome day.