The Genie's Heartwish, page 15
Laila’s shoulders sagged. “Different? Nope. Everything is the same. Nothing’s different.” Her gaze snapped to the genie sitting across from her. “Except Reen and I got letters from TBT telling us we need to lose weight or lose our jobs.”
“Good grief. What in the world is wrong with that woman?” Without a delay, Astrid added, “You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?”
“What?” Laila gasped, holding her phone at arm’s length, half wondering if it was bugged. “No. I just told you, everything’s the same.”
“Mmm-hmm. What’s his name? How did you meet him? I want all the details.”
“You make me sound downright pathetic, Mom, like I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’m in my thirties you know, not fifteen.” Laila glanced at Zak to catch him eyeing her with amusement.
“Which is why it’s even more important to have a good man in your life, sweetheart. No matter how old you are you’ll always be my baby. So he’s your boyfriend, hmm?”
Knowing from past experience it was fruitless to lie to her prying but well-meaning mother, Laila fessed up. “Okay, yes, I’m seeing someone. Satisfied?”
Laila’s mind raced, wondering how much to say over the phone. Hearing your daughter is dating a genie probably wasn’t the best news to divulge when your parents were nearly 5,000 miles from home.
“What kind of mother would I be if I wasn’t concerned about my darling daughter? I love you and want you to be happy, that’s all.”
“I know. I love you too, Mom. And I am happy. I’d be even happier if you didn’t worry about me so much.” Or meddle so much. “I’m fine, honest.”
“Okay.”
Laila smiled, knowing that wouldn’t be the end of it.
“Where did you meet him?”
In my kitchen when he floofed out of an ancient bottle in a puff of smoke and announced his sole purpose was to pleasure me.
“At an estate sale.” It was true. Basically.
“What fun! I know how much you love sifting through other people’s junk. You take after me that way. You never know where you might find the next treasure.”
If her mom only knew. “You can say that again.”
“So what’s his name?”
“Zakkar. Zakkar Tymon.” Damn...she should have said Tom or Joe or any ordinary name that wouldn’t prompt more questions. “Zak for short.”
“Zakkar. Interesting. Is he foreign?”
And the third degree was just getting started.
“Yes.” Laila breathed another sigh. “Mediterranean.”
“Is he here permanently or just visiting?”
“He’s visiting for the next six months.”
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“You’re heading for another broken heart.”
Her mother didn’t know the half of it.
“No I’m not,” Laila lied, closing her eyes and willing away thoughts of Zak’s inevitable departure. “We’re just having fun, enjoying each other’s company before he has to go back.” She smiled as Zak took her hand, stroking his thumb over her knuckles.
“My poor Laila.”
“Mom!” Laila cringed when patrons turned to glance at her. “Seriously,” she said in a more discreet tone, “I’m fine. And I’m...” she looked into Zak’s eyes and took a breath, “I’m fully prepared for when he has to leave.” She was amazed her nose didn’t grow six inches from that whopping fib.
“Really?”
“Really. Please stop worrying about me. I’ve never been happier.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
Aarrgghhhhh!
“I have to go. I love you, Mom. Give Tore my best. Try to stop worrying and enjoy the rest of your vacation.”
“I will, Laila, sweetie. Love you.”
Laila sat silent for a long moment after ending the call. She wouldn’t be a bit surprised if her mother started packing immediately.
Chapter Twelve
~<>~
“I ADORE MY MOM,” Laila told Zak as they walked to the car, “but she’s a worrywart.”
“She suffers from a skin condition?”
Laila gave a pop of unexpected laughter. “No, she suffers from an overprotective complex. She worries about me and my sisters and brothers too much.”
“It is good she worries about her little goats.”
Laila’s smile quirked. “Her little goats are all adults.”
“Be happy you have a mother who cares so deeply for you.”
Laila felt like an ass for whining, and guilty for being annoyed with her mom. Zak hadn’t seen his mother in thousands of years. He might not have had a chance to say goodbye before being bottled up for eternity.
“You’re right. I’m very fortunate.” She unlocked the car and they slipped into their seats. “I miss Mom and Tore when they’re traveling.”
“Do you know what would give me enormous satisfaction?” Zak’s eyes studied each of her actions as she stuck the key in the ignition, started the car, and backed out of her parking space.
“Yes. And the answer is no, you may not drive.”
“How did you know I wanted to drive?”
“Because you’re a man,” Laila said simply as she pulled out into traffic on Ocean Charm Boulevard.
“To ease my boundless disappointment you will take us to Chains-R-Us.”
“I already told you, I was just joking about that shop,” she told him, her gaze never veering from the road.
“The trio of assinnu men spoke of such a place.”
“You want me to take you shopping for sex toys in a scandalous establishment where I’d die of embarrassment if anyone spotted me?”
“I suspect you will not die.”
Laila heaved a weighty sigh. Maybe if she gave in to his shopping whim he’d quit bugging her about driving. “Okay...fine.”
“Excellent!”
They soon arrived at Provocative Pleasures, their tawdry destination on the outskirts of town. Emblazoned across the front of the building, just beneath the name of the shop, a fluorescent mustard-yellow neon sign boldly flashed, You Know You Want To.
Oh dear God...
With a tension headache threatening, Laila’s eyelids fluttered shut. Why hadn’t she thought to bring a wig? A mask? A paper bag with cutout eyeholes to yank over her head?
She fought against the eerie feeling something awful might happen the instant she stepped over the store’s threshold. Like she’d be their millionth customer. Flashing lights, blaring sirens, the media gleefully snapping her horrified expression, her video going viral.
“You are as still as a statue,” Zak noted, standing outside her car door, hands on his knees as he bent to look at her. She didn’t even realize he’d gotten out of the car. He opened her door, offering his hand. “Come, Laila. We will have fun.”
She glanced up into his dark eyes and the long lashes fringing them as he hunched over the driver’s side, peering down at her.
“Are you not eager to explore the inside of the sexual pleasure market?”
“Eager’s not the word.” Taking his hand, she exited the vehicle, knees knocking and heart thumping. She had no idea what to expect once inside. Maybe it would be decorated with inflated condoms, or strings of dildo lights, or sparkling pasties plastered all over. Maybe clerks were demonstrating the latest eight-speed vibrators. She shuddered at the thought...and not in a good way.
She felt the gentle tug of Zak’s hand on hers.
A subdued dingdong heralded their arrival as he opened the shop’s door. Once she’d taken a few steps inside and all was quiet, Laila let out the pent-up breath she’d been holding.
Then a bell went off and she let out a piercing yip.
“Are you ill?” Zak clamped her shoulders in a caring gesture. All she could do was shake her head no in response.
Primed for paparazzi, she stiffened. Then she heard the bell again.
Her shoulders slumped with relief when she realized it was just the phone in her purse making the racket. It was Reen. She answered, figuring Reen was on a coffee break at work and might need to talk to her about something TBT-related.
Nope.
“I got a call from Mom. She’s worried about you.”
“Oh hell. You didn’t say anything about Zak being a genie, did you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. So...”
Before Laila had a chance to get more than a word in edgewise, she was getting the third-degree from her sister.
“You’re not in bed together right now, are you?” Laila could tell Reen was cupping her hand over the mouthpiece. “Because that would really be awkward.”
“Do you honestly think I’d be answering the phone if I was?”
“I hope to hell not. But you are out of practice.” Reen snickered. “So what are you doing?”
“We’re...uh, still shopping.” Laila swallowed hard.
“Is this your sister, Reen, on the phone?” Zak asked. “Would it be permissible for me to speak to her?”
“Sure. Zak wants to say hi, Reen.” She handed the phone to him. “You talk here and listen here,” she explained.
“Hello, Reen, sister of Laila and date of Drake!” Zak’s megaphone voice boomed and Laila shushed him. “Yes, it is I, Zakkar Tanojin Lugalbanda Tymon, better known in the twenty-first century as Zak, speaking to your spirit on the phone,” he said, failing to modulate his voice. He grinned at Laila, giving her a thumbs-up sign. She couldn’t help giggling.
“Can you see me, Reen? I cannot see you. You are invisible. I am completely unafraid to speak to your disembodied voice on the phone. Yes, okay. Buh-bye to you too, Reen.”
With a mile-wide grin affixed to his face, he handed the phone back to Laila.
“You’re going to bust a gut if you keep laughing like that,” Laila whispered into the phone when she heard Reen guffawing on the other end. “Gotta go. We’ll talk later. If mom calls you again just don’t pick up, she has an uncanny way of dragging the truth out of us when we least expect it.” She ended the call and stuffed the phone back in her purse.
“Hi there,” a woman’s voice called from the rear of the store, startling Laila. “I’m Dorothy. Just let me know if I can be of any help.”
Following the source of the voice, Laila spotted a sweet-looking senior citizen. She was dressed normal, thank God, in loose black slacks and a pearl-gray sweater twin-set, topped by a double strand of pearls. Laila would have hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell if she’d come face to face with a whip-yielding, leather bustier-wearing granny.
“Thank you. We will alert you should we need your knowledgeable assistance,” Zak replied, striding into the store’s depths and checking out all the kinky stuff openly splashed everywhere.
Laila’s eyes widened as she scanned the curious inventory. There were umpteen types of vibrators, dildos, whips, cuffs, blindfolds and strange-looking paraphernalia she had no clue even existed.
“What is this, Dorothy?” Zak asked the nice old woman. Laila went to the area where Zak stood, groaning when she saw what he held.
The poor woman was probably on a fixed retirement income, working there to help make ends meet, maybe because no one else would hire her at her age. She’d probably be blushing from her roots to her toes trying to answer Zak’s question.
“Shhh, you’ll embarrass her,” Laila whispered, tugging on his arm.
“It’s a latex female sex doll,” Dorothy explained, coming down the aisle with a lively smile. “With human hair, glass eyes and a realistic vagina. The vaginal material is soft and smooth enough not to chafe a penis during copulation.” She turned the doll upside down to give Zak a bird’s eye view of the doll’s crotch. “They’re quite popular. A vast improvement over the welded vinyl blow-up dolls, which often burst at the seams after just a few uses.”
Stunned, Laila blinked.
“We get ours from France. They’re top quality, with water-filled breasts and buttocks. This one comes with interchangeable openings for anus, vagina and mouth, complete with vibrating capabilities.”
Laila didn’t dare risk a glimpse at Zak.
“Our customers love them, although they’re a bit of a pain to clean up. I recommend just taking her into the shower with you.” Dorothy winked.
Laila felt as if she’d tumbled down the rabbit hole, ending up in the porn version of Wonderland.
“I know the inventory like the back of my hand.” Dorothy’s face crinkled with a smile. “I’m the original owner, for thirty years now.”
“Why would I need this if I have Laila?” Zak frowned as he scrutinized the doll and its various orifices. He clearly wasn’t trying to be a smartass or argumentative. He was simply eager to learn.
“You wouldn’t.” Dorothy gave Laila a friendly grin. “Not if you have a ready and willing partner available.”
Returning her smile, Laila withered on the spot.
Zak looked from the doll to Laila. “I would like to see you in this garment.” He gestured to the life-sized Barbie doll with the bright red puckered blowjob-ready lips.
Laila eyed the skimpy getup, consisting of black leather straps—she suspected there wasn’t enough material to make a pair of leather gloves—shiny silver studs, and chains. “What garment?” she managed. “I sincerely doubt they carry things like that in my size.”
“We carry a wide variety of sizes,” Dorothy offered. “For both slave and master.”
“Oh. I’m not a slave,” Laila clarified, feeling warmth seep into her cheeks.
“I am the slave.” His shoulders slumped, Zak’s expression was dejected.
“Oh.” Dorothy slanted a curious look. “My mistake. I’m usually not wrong about those things.”
Laila crooked her finger, motioning for Zak to bend down. She whispered into his ear.
“Ahhhh.” Zak nodded, his smile returning. “I misunderstood. Laila is the slave and I, Zakkar Tymon, am her master,” he announced confidently.
“No!” Laila protested, turning to Dorothy. “He doesn’t understand. Neither of us is slave or master.”
“I understand very well,” Zak countered, smiling at Dorothy. “Laila does not yet realize the joys of being bound as a naked pleasure slave. She is inexperienced and too timid to openly divulge her deepest sexual desires.”
Oh God.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
“Zak!” Mortified to her bone marrow, Laila felt her face heat tomato-soup-red. “Good grief, do you want a bullhorn?”
“What is that?” He glanced around. “Are they sold here as well?”
“It’s something to help you announce my private fantasies to the entire north side of Glassfloat Bay.”
His expression kinked. “You would like me to do this for you?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, no!” Rolling her eyes, Laila growled in frustration.
Offering a warm smile, Dorothy patted Laila’s arm. “Bondage fantasies are nothing to be ashamed of, dear.”
“But I don’t have bon—”
“My husband and I have been master and slave for many years.” Dorothy’s smile was grandmotherly. “It can be immensely satisfying and pleasurable, whether it’s a lifestyle or an occasional pursuit.”
The woman’s revelation fell under the category of everything I definitely don’t want to know about somebody’s grandma.
Imagining Dorothy in Big Latex Barbie’s chained leather gear and doing God knows what with grandpa, Laila struggled not to gawk. She doubted her success when the woman chuckled.
“Yes, I know I look like the typical apple-pie-making grandma next door.” She shrugged. “And I am. But I assure you, I know about every item we carry in the store.” One eyebrow arched. “Personally.”
Clamping her mouth shut, Laila clenched her teeth, determined not to let her jaw drop again.
“Ralph and I test every item before we allow them on the sales floor.” She patted Laila’s arm in a motherly gesture. “Nothing you could ask or tell me would make be blush or gasp in horror.” She winked. “I promise.”
Humming a peppy tune, Dorothy hunted through the packaged BDSM costumes on the shelves, plucking one and handing it to Laila. “A large should be just right for you, dear.” She went back to her work, leaving Laila and Zak alone in the aisle.
Zak was still busy examining the multi-orificed doll.
Laila slapped his hand. “Will you please put that overgrown Barbie down?” she whispered. Zak readily complied, returning it to the stand where he’d found it.
“Ah, you have found the leather garment.” A bright grin split his face.
Tossing the costume Dorothy had given her back on the shelf, Laila turned to Zak, narrowing her eyes. “There’s no way in hell I’m wearing something like that, so you can just forget it.”
“But—”
“Let’s just get whatever it is you need and get out of here. I’ll absolutely die if someone catches me in here with an armful of kinky stuff. And, please, please, don’t ask Dorothy any more questions. If we can’t figure it out ourselves, we’re not buying it, okay?”
“Okay.” Shopping basket looped over his arm, with the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy shop Zak made his way up and down the aisles, plunking item after kinky item into the container.
As Dorothy slid the packages over the scanner, Laila glimpsed the accumulation of unfamiliar playthings, cringing as she wondered why on earth she’d agreed to take Zak to a sex shop of all things.
“You decided against the BDSM costume?” Dorothy asked Laila.
“Um, yes...I remembered I, uh, already have one at home.”
“You do?” An overly cheerful Zak piped up and Laila responded by nailing him with a steely glare.
“I thought we’d never get out of there,” she said as Zak added the bag of adult goodies to the other packages in her car’s trunk.
“We will go home to make use of them now,” Zak stated.
“No,” Laila countered with a resounding tsk. “We’re going grocery shopping. And we’re having a talk. It’s time we got to know each other better.” She got in the driver’s side and slammed the door.
Decidedly cranky, she said, “I want to know who you are and how and why you ended up in a bottle.”
“Good grief. What in the world is wrong with that woman?” Without a delay, Astrid added, “You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?”
“What?” Laila gasped, holding her phone at arm’s length, half wondering if it was bugged. “No. I just told you, everything’s the same.”
“Mmm-hmm. What’s his name? How did you meet him? I want all the details.”
“You make me sound downright pathetic, Mom, like I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I’m in my thirties you know, not fifteen.” Laila glanced at Zak to catch him eyeing her with amusement.
“Which is why it’s even more important to have a good man in your life, sweetheart. No matter how old you are you’ll always be my baby. So he’s your boyfriend, hmm?”
Knowing from past experience it was fruitless to lie to her prying but well-meaning mother, Laila fessed up. “Okay, yes, I’m seeing someone. Satisfied?”
Laila’s mind raced, wondering how much to say over the phone. Hearing your daughter is dating a genie probably wasn’t the best news to divulge when your parents were nearly 5,000 miles from home.
“What kind of mother would I be if I wasn’t concerned about my darling daughter? I love you and want you to be happy, that’s all.”
“I know. I love you too, Mom. And I am happy. I’d be even happier if you didn’t worry about me so much.” Or meddle so much. “I’m fine, honest.”
“Okay.”
Laila smiled, knowing that wouldn’t be the end of it.
“Where did you meet him?”
In my kitchen when he floofed out of an ancient bottle in a puff of smoke and announced his sole purpose was to pleasure me.
“At an estate sale.” It was true. Basically.
“What fun! I know how much you love sifting through other people’s junk. You take after me that way. You never know where you might find the next treasure.”
If her mom only knew. “You can say that again.”
“So what’s his name?”
“Zakkar. Zakkar Tymon.” Damn...she should have said Tom or Joe or any ordinary name that wouldn’t prompt more questions. “Zak for short.”
“Zakkar. Interesting. Is he foreign?”
And the third degree was just getting started.
“Yes.” Laila breathed another sigh. “Mediterranean.”
“Is he here permanently or just visiting?”
“He’s visiting for the next six months.”
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“You’re heading for another broken heart.”
Her mother didn’t know the half of it.
“No I’m not,” Laila lied, closing her eyes and willing away thoughts of Zak’s inevitable departure. “We’re just having fun, enjoying each other’s company before he has to go back.” She smiled as Zak took her hand, stroking his thumb over her knuckles.
“My poor Laila.”
“Mom!” Laila cringed when patrons turned to glance at her. “Seriously,” she said in a more discreet tone, “I’m fine. And I’m...” she looked into Zak’s eyes and took a breath, “I’m fully prepared for when he has to leave.” She was amazed her nose didn’t grow six inches from that whopping fib.
“Really?”
“Really. Please stop worrying about me. I’ve never been happier.”
“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
Aarrgghhhhh!
“I have to go. I love you, Mom. Give Tore my best. Try to stop worrying and enjoy the rest of your vacation.”
“I will, Laila, sweetie. Love you.”
Laila sat silent for a long moment after ending the call. She wouldn’t be a bit surprised if her mother started packing immediately.
Chapter Twelve
~<>~
“I ADORE MY MOM,” Laila told Zak as they walked to the car, “but she’s a worrywart.”
“She suffers from a skin condition?”
Laila gave a pop of unexpected laughter. “No, she suffers from an overprotective complex. She worries about me and my sisters and brothers too much.”
“It is good she worries about her little goats.”
Laila’s smile quirked. “Her little goats are all adults.”
“Be happy you have a mother who cares so deeply for you.”
Laila felt like an ass for whining, and guilty for being annoyed with her mom. Zak hadn’t seen his mother in thousands of years. He might not have had a chance to say goodbye before being bottled up for eternity.
“You’re right. I’m very fortunate.” She unlocked the car and they slipped into their seats. “I miss Mom and Tore when they’re traveling.”
“Do you know what would give me enormous satisfaction?” Zak’s eyes studied each of her actions as she stuck the key in the ignition, started the car, and backed out of her parking space.
“Yes. And the answer is no, you may not drive.”
“How did you know I wanted to drive?”
“Because you’re a man,” Laila said simply as she pulled out into traffic on Ocean Charm Boulevard.
“To ease my boundless disappointment you will take us to Chains-R-Us.”
“I already told you, I was just joking about that shop,” she told him, her gaze never veering from the road.
“The trio of assinnu men spoke of such a place.”
“You want me to take you shopping for sex toys in a scandalous establishment where I’d die of embarrassment if anyone spotted me?”
“I suspect you will not die.”
Laila heaved a weighty sigh. Maybe if she gave in to his shopping whim he’d quit bugging her about driving. “Okay...fine.”
“Excellent!”
They soon arrived at Provocative Pleasures, their tawdry destination on the outskirts of town. Emblazoned across the front of the building, just beneath the name of the shop, a fluorescent mustard-yellow neon sign boldly flashed, You Know You Want To.
Oh dear God...
With a tension headache threatening, Laila’s eyelids fluttered shut. Why hadn’t she thought to bring a wig? A mask? A paper bag with cutout eyeholes to yank over her head?
She fought against the eerie feeling something awful might happen the instant she stepped over the store’s threshold. Like she’d be their millionth customer. Flashing lights, blaring sirens, the media gleefully snapping her horrified expression, her video going viral.
“You are as still as a statue,” Zak noted, standing outside her car door, hands on his knees as he bent to look at her. She didn’t even realize he’d gotten out of the car. He opened her door, offering his hand. “Come, Laila. We will have fun.”
She glanced up into his dark eyes and the long lashes fringing them as he hunched over the driver’s side, peering down at her.
“Are you not eager to explore the inside of the sexual pleasure market?”
“Eager’s not the word.” Taking his hand, she exited the vehicle, knees knocking and heart thumping. She had no idea what to expect once inside. Maybe it would be decorated with inflated condoms, or strings of dildo lights, or sparkling pasties plastered all over. Maybe clerks were demonstrating the latest eight-speed vibrators. She shuddered at the thought...and not in a good way.
She felt the gentle tug of Zak’s hand on hers.
A subdued dingdong heralded their arrival as he opened the shop’s door. Once she’d taken a few steps inside and all was quiet, Laila let out the pent-up breath she’d been holding.
Then a bell went off and she let out a piercing yip.
“Are you ill?” Zak clamped her shoulders in a caring gesture. All she could do was shake her head no in response.
Primed for paparazzi, she stiffened. Then she heard the bell again.
Her shoulders slumped with relief when she realized it was just the phone in her purse making the racket. It was Reen. She answered, figuring Reen was on a coffee break at work and might need to talk to her about something TBT-related.
Nope.
“I got a call from Mom. She’s worried about you.”
“Oh hell. You didn’t say anything about Zak being a genie, did you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. So...”
Before Laila had a chance to get more than a word in edgewise, she was getting the third-degree from her sister.
“You’re not in bed together right now, are you?” Laila could tell Reen was cupping her hand over the mouthpiece. “Because that would really be awkward.”
“Do you honestly think I’d be answering the phone if I was?”
“I hope to hell not. But you are out of practice.” Reen snickered. “So what are you doing?”
“We’re...uh, still shopping.” Laila swallowed hard.
“Is this your sister, Reen, on the phone?” Zak asked. “Would it be permissible for me to speak to her?”
“Sure. Zak wants to say hi, Reen.” She handed the phone to him. “You talk here and listen here,” she explained.
“Hello, Reen, sister of Laila and date of Drake!” Zak’s megaphone voice boomed and Laila shushed him. “Yes, it is I, Zakkar Tanojin Lugalbanda Tymon, better known in the twenty-first century as Zak, speaking to your spirit on the phone,” he said, failing to modulate his voice. He grinned at Laila, giving her a thumbs-up sign. She couldn’t help giggling.
“Can you see me, Reen? I cannot see you. You are invisible. I am completely unafraid to speak to your disembodied voice on the phone. Yes, okay. Buh-bye to you too, Reen.”
With a mile-wide grin affixed to his face, he handed the phone back to Laila.
“You’re going to bust a gut if you keep laughing like that,” Laila whispered into the phone when she heard Reen guffawing on the other end. “Gotta go. We’ll talk later. If mom calls you again just don’t pick up, she has an uncanny way of dragging the truth out of us when we least expect it.” She ended the call and stuffed the phone back in her purse.
“Hi there,” a woman’s voice called from the rear of the store, startling Laila. “I’m Dorothy. Just let me know if I can be of any help.”
Following the source of the voice, Laila spotted a sweet-looking senior citizen. She was dressed normal, thank God, in loose black slacks and a pearl-gray sweater twin-set, topped by a double strand of pearls. Laila would have hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell if she’d come face to face with a whip-yielding, leather bustier-wearing granny.
“Thank you. We will alert you should we need your knowledgeable assistance,” Zak replied, striding into the store’s depths and checking out all the kinky stuff openly splashed everywhere.
Laila’s eyes widened as she scanned the curious inventory. There were umpteen types of vibrators, dildos, whips, cuffs, blindfolds and strange-looking paraphernalia she had no clue even existed.
“What is this, Dorothy?” Zak asked the nice old woman. Laila went to the area where Zak stood, groaning when she saw what he held.
The poor woman was probably on a fixed retirement income, working there to help make ends meet, maybe because no one else would hire her at her age. She’d probably be blushing from her roots to her toes trying to answer Zak’s question.
“Shhh, you’ll embarrass her,” Laila whispered, tugging on his arm.
“It’s a latex female sex doll,” Dorothy explained, coming down the aisle with a lively smile. “With human hair, glass eyes and a realistic vagina. The vaginal material is soft and smooth enough not to chafe a penis during copulation.” She turned the doll upside down to give Zak a bird’s eye view of the doll’s crotch. “They’re quite popular. A vast improvement over the welded vinyl blow-up dolls, which often burst at the seams after just a few uses.”
Stunned, Laila blinked.
“We get ours from France. They’re top quality, with water-filled breasts and buttocks. This one comes with interchangeable openings for anus, vagina and mouth, complete with vibrating capabilities.”
Laila didn’t dare risk a glimpse at Zak.
“Our customers love them, although they’re a bit of a pain to clean up. I recommend just taking her into the shower with you.” Dorothy winked.
Laila felt as if she’d tumbled down the rabbit hole, ending up in the porn version of Wonderland.
“I know the inventory like the back of my hand.” Dorothy’s face crinkled with a smile. “I’m the original owner, for thirty years now.”
“Why would I need this if I have Laila?” Zak frowned as he scrutinized the doll and its various orifices. He clearly wasn’t trying to be a smartass or argumentative. He was simply eager to learn.
“You wouldn’t.” Dorothy gave Laila a friendly grin. “Not if you have a ready and willing partner available.”
Returning her smile, Laila withered on the spot.
Zak looked from the doll to Laila. “I would like to see you in this garment.” He gestured to the life-sized Barbie doll with the bright red puckered blowjob-ready lips.
Laila eyed the skimpy getup, consisting of black leather straps—she suspected there wasn’t enough material to make a pair of leather gloves—shiny silver studs, and chains. “What garment?” she managed. “I sincerely doubt they carry things like that in my size.”
“We carry a wide variety of sizes,” Dorothy offered. “For both slave and master.”
“Oh. I’m not a slave,” Laila clarified, feeling warmth seep into her cheeks.
“I am the slave.” His shoulders slumped, Zak’s expression was dejected.
“Oh.” Dorothy slanted a curious look. “My mistake. I’m usually not wrong about those things.”
Laila crooked her finger, motioning for Zak to bend down. She whispered into his ear.
“Ahhhh.” Zak nodded, his smile returning. “I misunderstood. Laila is the slave and I, Zakkar Tymon, am her master,” he announced confidently.
“No!” Laila protested, turning to Dorothy. “He doesn’t understand. Neither of us is slave or master.”
“I understand very well,” Zak countered, smiling at Dorothy. “Laila does not yet realize the joys of being bound as a naked pleasure slave. She is inexperienced and too timid to openly divulge her deepest sexual desires.”
Oh God.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
“Zak!” Mortified to her bone marrow, Laila felt her face heat tomato-soup-red. “Good grief, do you want a bullhorn?”
“What is that?” He glanced around. “Are they sold here as well?”
“It’s something to help you announce my private fantasies to the entire north side of Glassfloat Bay.”
His expression kinked. “You would like me to do this for you?”
“Oh for heaven’s sake, no!” Rolling her eyes, Laila growled in frustration.
Offering a warm smile, Dorothy patted Laila’s arm. “Bondage fantasies are nothing to be ashamed of, dear.”
“But I don’t have bon—”
“My husband and I have been master and slave for many years.” Dorothy’s smile was grandmotherly. “It can be immensely satisfying and pleasurable, whether it’s a lifestyle or an occasional pursuit.”
The woman’s revelation fell under the category of everything I definitely don’t want to know about somebody’s grandma.
Imagining Dorothy in Big Latex Barbie’s chained leather gear and doing God knows what with grandpa, Laila struggled not to gawk. She doubted her success when the woman chuckled.
“Yes, I know I look like the typical apple-pie-making grandma next door.” She shrugged. “And I am. But I assure you, I know about every item we carry in the store.” One eyebrow arched. “Personally.”
Clamping her mouth shut, Laila clenched her teeth, determined not to let her jaw drop again.
“Ralph and I test every item before we allow them on the sales floor.” She patted Laila’s arm in a motherly gesture. “Nothing you could ask or tell me would make be blush or gasp in horror.” She winked. “I promise.”
Humming a peppy tune, Dorothy hunted through the packaged BDSM costumes on the shelves, plucking one and handing it to Laila. “A large should be just right for you, dear.” She went back to her work, leaving Laila and Zak alone in the aisle.
Zak was still busy examining the multi-orificed doll.
Laila slapped his hand. “Will you please put that overgrown Barbie down?” she whispered. Zak readily complied, returning it to the stand where he’d found it.
“Ah, you have found the leather garment.” A bright grin split his face.
Tossing the costume Dorothy had given her back on the shelf, Laila turned to Zak, narrowing her eyes. “There’s no way in hell I’m wearing something like that, so you can just forget it.”
“But—”
“Let’s just get whatever it is you need and get out of here. I’ll absolutely die if someone catches me in here with an armful of kinky stuff. And, please, please, don’t ask Dorothy any more questions. If we can’t figure it out ourselves, we’re not buying it, okay?”
“Okay.” Shopping basket looped over his arm, with the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy shop Zak made his way up and down the aisles, plunking item after kinky item into the container.
As Dorothy slid the packages over the scanner, Laila glimpsed the accumulation of unfamiliar playthings, cringing as she wondered why on earth she’d agreed to take Zak to a sex shop of all things.
“You decided against the BDSM costume?” Dorothy asked Laila.
“Um, yes...I remembered I, uh, already have one at home.”
“You do?” An overly cheerful Zak piped up and Laila responded by nailing him with a steely glare.
“I thought we’d never get out of there,” she said as Zak added the bag of adult goodies to the other packages in her car’s trunk.
“We will go home to make use of them now,” Zak stated.
“No,” Laila countered with a resounding tsk. “We’re going grocery shopping. And we’re having a talk. It’s time we got to know each other better.” She got in the driver’s side and slammed the door.
Decidedly cranky, she said, “I want to know who you are and how and why you ended up in a bottle.”
