I hate kids. Teenagers especially, because they roam the city streets like packs of smart-ass wolves. While it’s illegal for someone under 18 to set foot in a sex store, I don’t have to be a hard ass about it (most of the stores around mine aren’t), I just like to be. My greatest work-related joy is telling adolescents to get the hell out, which I’ve had to do an unusually high number of times this week. And it felt so good each time.
Of course, it’s not just teenagers that roam in packs. On weekend nights, women fresh from the bar often show up in groups of three to six. The Alpha Female asserts herself right away: she’s the loudest, the drunkest and the most willing to ask me questions. She’ll browse our selection of vibrators and exclaim over how adorable some of them are. We have vibrators shaped like rabbits, dolphins, butterflies, baby mice, baby bugs and baby ducks. She’ll point them all out to her friends and laugh and shriek.
Eventually the Alpha Female will decide on a vibrator, plunk it on the counter and sometimes, if I’m lucky, all of her friends will line up behind her and buy the exact same toy. I call this flying in V formation. Although I used to think it was a little weird, I get it now. The shyer ones — they’re women who are mortified to be in a sex store and don’t want to deliberate over vibrators — let the strongest member set the course, then fly behind her in the path of least resistance.
When the male of the species comes in, things are a little different. Some like to strut around the store, posturing and preening. Others will buy the most expensive toys in hopes of pleasing their partners and still others will go to even further (sometimes misguided) lengths to look like the ideal mate.