Scavengers (8 page)

She concurred that it was a good idea, and with a destination in mind, I made haste.

When we arrived, I realized that pay phones only resided in museums anymore, but a bus-girl let me borrow the phonebook. I found nothing under “Adult” or “Bookstores,” and I knew enough of our conservative landscape not to look under “Porn.” Ah, but “Novelties” held the mother lode. I scanned the short list, and without thinking, I bellowed “Peter's Palace!” to poor Claudia, who was, at that moment, placing our order. From where I sat, I could feel the heat of her red face—or maybe it was from my own. She glanced mindlessly behind her, rolled her eyes, and acted as if I were a stranger—a stranger all alone in a restaurant, playing Name-That-Porn-Shop.

Well, that made me feel good about myself!

Armed with knowledge and a bag of chicken flautas, we hurried on our way. It would be about a twenty-minute drive; dick's castle was outside the city limits and off the main highway.

Once we pulled into the parking lot, not one car flaunted familiarity. Amazingly, we were the first to arrive. If we were the first to leave, I would be even more impressed.

The building itself—like an enormous pole barn—boasted a gaudy pink. It looked very odd, stuck with a rural backdrop, and I found myself surprisingly dismayed that it wasn't silo-shaped.

"Have you ever been in a place like this before?” Claudia asked, and by the tone of her voice, I knew in an instant that she hadn't—never, not ever.

"When I was in college,” I admitted, “I had a couple of friends—gay guys—who owned a shop. I stopped in to visit them on occasion.” Why did it suddenly feel as though I was knelling in a confessional?

"Oh,” she said.

I found it staggering how two little letters—an O and an H—could contain such a tractor-load of judgmental crap. She probably had no clue, but the last place I wanted to walk into was Peter's Palace.

"Well, I say we just do it,” I encouraged, wanting my cohort fired up and ready to kick butt. “Just get in and get out. We'll worry about talking some hot dame into posing for a photo when we get that far."

"I suppose,” she said, and then she started rummaging around in the backseat.

"What are you looking for?” I asked, not sure I even wanted to know after a haz mat suit presented itself in my imagination.

"This,” she replied, retrieving a baseball cap. She plopped it on her head, her French braid resisting all the way. Then she leaned toward me, and her hand unleashed her sunglasses from the visor. Those she slid onto her face and then made a quick study of herself in the other visor's mirror. How does one decide if they recognize themselves or not?

The incognito one took a deep breath and said, “Let's do it—before I lose my nerve."

As we entered the shop, I could literally see her stiffen. I think she expected all eyes to turn toward her, but none did. Some didn't want to be recognized any more than she did. Others just went on about their business as if it were the corner market and canned beans were on sale. No more than a dozen people shuffled about, and from my initial life-form scan, I did not detect anyone of the female gender. That made me somehow feel better about being a part of the sisterhood, but it did nothing for my belief that we could complete the goal. I spied the clerk, who was in fact a petite, pleasant looking woman, but I knew that as a model, she was off-limits.

"Just act like we're browsing, hon,” I suggested, but the resulting look I got would have made anyone else believe that I had proposed skinny dipping at the farm wastewater treatment facility.

We wended our way down the first aisle. All the while, my eyes kept vigil on the front door, hoping beyond hope that a woman would enter.

Suddenly Claudia stopped, contorted her face—I meanreally contorted her face—and quietly shrieked, “Where the hell would you put that thing?"

"Um, think no fiber for six months,” I fumbled for some nice—okay, maybe just a less shocking—way to say it.

"Huh?"

"It's a butt plug!” I quietly yelled through clenched teeth.

It pained her to hear it, and I'm really not sure exactly where it pained her. She scooted away rather swiftly, almost as if this gadget—as Kris and Ginny called it—had the volition and the power to insert itself if she stood there too long.

Then the dreaded thing happened. My front door vigil affirmed the fact that all three of the other couples had entered Peter's Palace. Oddly enough, Susan was the one who caught my eye. In fact she stood out like the proverbial sore thumb. She donned a flamboyant hat, one of those a prim and proper lady would wear to keep the bugs and the sun as bay while she gardened with gloved hands. And yes, she sported a pair of sunglasses, too. If only the two them could fathom that disguises were sometimes neon signs that begged the world, “Look at me!"

I elbowed Claudia and pointed to the front door with my head. Simultaneously, we both got about three inches shorter and hightailed it to the next aisle. While that might have provided better coverage, it did little for Claudia's comfort level, as foot after foot of shelving prominently displayed every dildo known to man—or woman, depending, again, upon your perspective. Had the displays not started with the penis-replica variety, maybe she would have done better. I steered her down a ways, hurrying past the purple jelly one, so tall that it was nearly eye-level, and then moved her even faster past the two-headed monster that was honestly long enough to accommodate having sex in two different counties at the same time. I stopped her near the ones that were pretty—if it were even possible to allow “pretty” to modify “dildo.” Comparatively speaking, however, it worked.

"Look,” I dared. “This one is kind of cool.” I grabbed a pink glass one that curved its way into a heart-shaped handle at the base. “And look,” I added. “You get a ‘free lube sample and stylish storage bag.’”

Now Claudia was as disgusted with me as she was with the merchandise. Experience taught me that a roaring passion burned within her, but its flames were private, a sacredness she shared only with the one she loved, and never, ever was such a thing to be trivialized. On the outside, she was a staunch prude; on the inside, she was a force to which only I was privy. I decided to shut my mouth and let her have her discomfort; it was a part of her.

Just then, the rest of the group broke our cover.

As if talking to someone across a stadium in the middle of a Motorhead concert, Laura said, “I have no need for things like these, ladies, but then again, if I were a man, I wouldn't need Viagra, either.” She reached for Holly to pull her near.

"I bet you'd have no need for a butt plug, either. You'rethat full of it."

I do believe it was at that precise moment in time when my heart seized, pain shot down my arm toward my trembling fingers, and I grabbed my chest. Those words had been uttered by the one and the only, my incognito one.Damn!

Then Holly chimed in, “Trust me, Claudia. If this dick here used a butt plug she'd be far more mute than from some damn bandana.” She turned, left a peck on Laura's cheek, and added,

“Because she's always talking out of her ass."

It was this precise moment in time that would be recorded indelibly in everyone's minds. “The Great Dildo War” had begun. Each—excepting our incognito ones—armed herself with a jelly penis-replica and became a swashbuckler. Defending honor, taking vengeance—whatever it was spilled into the next aisle and eventually brought the attention of the clerk. We quickly dropped our weapons in their respectable spots and scattered like the scavengers we were at the sound of something bigger than us.

We hid near the Fantasy Costumes section until the calm came and the clerk went. Nurse, fireman, schoolgirl—somehow these professions did not seem to belong in a porn shop, but they representatively hung there nevertheless.

Claudia neared me. She was about to speak when we overhead Lisa's voice on the other side of the shelving.

"Come on! I brought every quarter I could find in the car."

"No, I don't think so. Let's just get the hunt finished. We have yet to win one."

"A half an hour isn't going to kill us. Come on, or I'll go myself."

I knew Lisa would get her way, that Alison would cave in, and frankly I was getting tired of it. I also knew that it was none of my business, but I cared about Alison. She had had a tough time most of her life, and it had finally calmed down. She taught yoga at the Y and had just started to seem content with herself when Lisa had plowed into her life, looking for someone over whom she could lord.

I expected Claudia to stop me, but instead, she grabbed my hand, suddenly oblivious to what others thought, and walked into the aisle with me.

"Hey, you guys. Any luck finding a ‘hot dame'?” I asked.

Alison spontaneously grabbed the camera from her jacket pocket, aimed it at me, and said,

“Yeah, in fact, I just did. Say ‘cheese!’”

I was about to remind her that she knew my name, but before I could, Lisa had literally jumped between us.

"I told you, you lying bitch! I told you you had the hots for her!"

"Lisa—” both Alison and Claudia said at the same time.

Lisa called her a few more choice words and made a few detailed accusations, and then I saw all attention in the grand palace turn toward us. Alison's eyes welled with tears, and both Claudia and I stared her down, our eyes screaming, “Don't take this crap from anyone!” She saw us. She knew what we meant. I knew she did. I prayed she did. We both nodded our heads, a psychic

“Go for it!"

"Just shut up, Lisa! For God's sake, shut up. I am so sick of the way you treat me...” Every word and thought she had been hoarding came out in a free fall, but she didn't stoop to Lisa's level. She called her no names. She kept her voice low and controlled even though she seethed.

And then I heard those words that I wanted to make her tattoo backwards on her forehead:I deserve better than this!

"Fuck you!” Lisa shouted. She then turned to me and added the same directive. Then the mad/cow/woman stomped her way out the front door.

As soon as we deemed it safe, the both of us starting high-fiving Alison, who suddenly seemed so relieved and confident. Every woman in the store—all of whom had names or was a clerk—

applauded. I knew that eventually Alison would hurt, and maybe even change her mind, but for the moment she relished her emancipation.

"Just keep going,” Claudia encouraged. “Just finish the clue on your own, find a hot dame, and let Kris and Ginny worry about the change to your team."

"I already have a picture of a hot dame,” she maintained. “And I'm turning it—No, wait! I have a better idea.” She signaled for the rest of our group to join us. When we were all together, she moved us around until we were all nearly smashed together. She eased herself into the collage and then turned the camera on us with an outstretched hand.

"Hottest dames, I know,” she declared, and for once, we all agreed on something.

After the impromptu party broke up, I scanned the building one more time. There were still no nameless women there. A few of the guys I recognized from before, and a few faces were new.

Still, the elusive hot dame had not landed. I wandered around a bit more, and then suddenly I felt the bright light of an idea scorch the top of my head. I quickly found Claudia and said, “I have an idea. A brilliant idea! Head out to the car and make sure it's parked under an overhead light. Take Alison with you so I know you're safe."

She seemed game, scooped up Alison, and made a beeline out of Peter's Palace. I slid into the next aisle, searched for what I needed, and headed to the checkout.

When I got back to the car, I threw a box at the two of them and ordered, “Start blowing!"

Claudia's eyes practically popped out of her head. She tilted the box toward the light and read,

“'Wrap Around Lover Doll.’ Oh my God!"

"You don't like her? I'm sorry. The other ones all had names, and pretty raunchy ones at that!

Now blow, you guys. Frickin’ blow! I'm going to run back inside—I know it's not the safest thing to do, but man, I gotta pee."

I ran back toward the shop, leaving several “Blow!” orders in my wake.

As I neared the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of Laura slipping a fifty-dollar bill to some young, scruffy faced guy. I did not even want to know what hell that could have been for, my mind refusing to let it register.

I used the facilities, scrubbing myself clean before exiting. As I sped through the shop, I saw Holly fumbling around in her purse. She pulled out a lipstick, and I stopped dead in my tracks as it suddenly dawned on me what they were up to. She took the cap off of the lipstick and aimed it at the young, fifty-dollars-richer guy. He pursed his lips under Holly's direction, and then I spied Laura removing a long blond wig from a shopping bag.

If hadn't just relieved myself, I would have pissed my pants.

I left the detective, the artist, and the newly crowned drag queen. As fast as I could, I ran back to the car.

"Are you done yet?” I asked, noticing that my Lover Doll was at least now capable of sitting up.

Her head still drooped, and I yelled “Blow!” a few more times. “They're in there dressing some guy up like a chick. Get moving. Blow! Blow!"

My blue-faced companions blew as hard and as fast as they could, one at the armpit and one at the toe.

Several minutes later I officially introduced myself to Lover Doll, thanking her for helping us, apologizing that it would have to be name-less and in a parking lot. I picked her up, kissed her gaping mouth, patted her “tight backdoor,” and handed her off to Claudia.

"Oh my God, I don't want her!"

"Why? You've already been intimate with her. You blew in her armpit!"

"Well, blowing her is one thing—” She suddenly regretted those words.

"Fine, then! Here's the frickin’ camera. I'll have to charm her myself."

I nervously looked around the parking lot, desperately hoping my audience was no larger than Claudia and Alison. I placed my sweet little Lover Doll—whose expression never changed—

around me. Her arms and legs wrapped tightly, her “snugly snatch” meeting the crotch of my jeans. For some perverse purposes, we were a perfect fit.