Oleander’s eyes wandered the small area, but he remained frozen beside me. “You can get a closer look,” I assured him. To encourage him, I stepped forward to one of my first designs. It was a simple phallic toy, made of smooth, cold steel. I picked up the display model and held it up for Oleander to examine. “Take this and press this button.”
He gingerly took the toy from my hand, jolting as his fingers first touched the hard metal. “It’s cold,” he commented. I nodded and indicated the button a second time. He pressed the button with one of his long fingers, and the machine came to life. It buzzed and vibrated in his hand.
“Press the other button,” I instructed.
He pressed the second button, and his eyes widened. “It’s warm.”
“It automatically warms, as I recognize that not everyone enjoys the sensation of cold in their delicate regions,” I explained. “However, if you press the button again.”
His finger followed the instructions and delight bloomed in his eyes. “It’s cold again.”
“I also recognize that some people enjoy the variety of sensations and the rapid change. It is a very simple device, but it’s one of my most popular.”
He pressed the button again and wrapped his slim fingers around the metal. I knew there was no risk of him getting burnt, no matter how often he played with the button. Each of my devices had been tested to ensure the safety of the user. When he finished his examination, he hit the button to turn it off. “Can you use the cooling and warming features without the vibrations?”
“You can. Each function is independent of the other.”
He nodded and placed the device back on its perch.
After the ice was broken, he asked me about other toys on display. He seemed far more interested in them than he did the timepieces in the other room, but I could not get any read on his preferences based upon what toys he picked up and examined. Not until he picked up the last one in the room. His violet eyes lit up as he studied it. It was one of my thickest models, though it was far from the longest I had on offer. It had a realistic thrusting action that amused him to no end, but that did not explain the heat behind his eyes.
I thought of what he said in the market. He liked people with strong arms. Those were rarely attached to slim figures. I thought of the people who had caught his eye in the Pavilion, and I recognized a pattern. They were all stockier, built more like me than like him. Another shot of warmth raced through my blood as I imagined him looking at me with that same heat in his eyes.
I was also stricken by the realization that the toy he held had been modeled, partially, after my own cock. Would he still look at it the way he was now if he knew that? Would he direct that gaze at me?
No.
Some questions were best left unanswered.
The Gods smiled upon me in that moment, offering forth a distraction in the form of a customer. I heard someone call out, and I quickly ducked from behind the curtain. Oleander trailed behind me, luckily no longer holding the pleasure device. I unhooked the curtain, once again closing that section off to those who may not wish to see it.
I helped a few customers at the counter, and I was impressed listening to Oleander speak to them before they came to the counter with technical questions or to pay. He had a natural talent for speaking with people, of determining what was important to them with nothing more than a few sentences. He had a natural flair for flattery. Once the small stream of patrons disappeared, I realized something else.
For the first time in the years I’d been coming to market, every single person who had come into my stall had left with a purchase.
“You are amazing,” I sighed as I finished marking the last sale.
Pink spread across his cheekbones to the points of his ears, and he looked very pleased with himself. “Am I?”
“You are,” I repeated the praise. “Every person you spoke to bought something.”
“Maybe they were already looking to purchase.”
“No,” I insisted. It was him. His charms had convinced them to loosen their purse strings and spend coin at my booth. No wonder the shops he worked at in Emberleigh kept him on. I wished I could clone him, keep a copy of him at my shop in Gearwick and travel with him to the market every year. “Perhapsyou’ll find a merchant to marry. You would be a blessing to them.”
The pink on his face darkened. “If you ask my parents, I am no blessing in a shop.”
“What do you mean?” We had not yet dived into these deeper waters. I knew little about his life outside of the Everend Market, beyond the fact that he yearned for a marriage that fulfilled the desires of his heart.
“Mother and Father run an apothecary,” he explained. “They are the primary healers in their village.”
“Their village?” I repeated.
“Yes. I lived there in my youth, but no longer. I moved to Emberleigh once I reached adulthood.” I nodded, and he continued. “They have asked me to help in the shop many times, and every time, it is a disaster. My bookkeeping was atrocious. I was unable to recommend even the simplest remedy. In fact, I had a terrible tendency of getting distracted and suggesting something that would only make the issue worse.”
I bit my bottom lip to keep from laughing at the anguished look on his face. “Perhaps they did not know how to best utilize your talents.”
“Or maybe I don’t have any.”
