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But if Ansley could appeal to their hearts not to try and take down Marjorie’s store, they would stand a chance. She was fully prepared for the task. She had her presentation all wrapped up and ready for delivery.
Those ornery, underhanded, old men had no idea what they were in for, now that she was in charge. She wasn’t going to back down. Not one inch. And by the time she had appealed to their inner child, she would leave them in tears. It was a toy store after all. Who didn’t love toy stores?
“Mark my words, you two. I will win, and once Marjorie’s toy store is safe, I’ll be handing it back to her.”
“Hmm…” Katrina said, which was basically a practice run for the future when she would get to saytold you sowhen everything went wrong. Well, again, not this time.
Josh didn’t say anything, but there was a frown on his face.
Ansley wasn’t going to let her friend down. Besides, nothing got her more fired up than fighting for the underdog against big corporate types.
Sure, her family's fortune came from a string of five-star hotels around the globe, but their motto wasHospitality with Heart,and her father would never do anything like this. She wouldn’t let him.
“Wish me luck,” she said as she grabbed her handbag.
“You be careful now,” Katrina said sternly.
“You love me,” Ansley replied, kissing the housekeeper on the cheek and was rewarded a grunt in return.
“When will I see you again?” she asked Josh.
“Whenever you do,” he said and pulled her in for a big hug. That was the thing with him. He arrived when he did and left the same way.
“I’ll miss your stupid face,” she said.
“I’ll miss yours more. Be safe,” he murmured and pushed her out the door.
She already couldn’t wait for the next time they saw each other and hoped it was longer than one meal and half a conversation. She was sad he was going to miss their cousin’s Maureen’s wedding, but such was the nature of Josh’s life. Oh, that reminded her, she had to sample a menu for the bachelorette party she was hosting in her apartment in the city soon.
It took her a bit longer than usual to navigate herself downtown, but soon she found herself driving in the busiest part of New York with nightmarish traffic all around her.
Great, she was already running late, so her plan to get a feel for the toy store before she met with the three businessmen at a coffee shop nearby was already shortened.
After following her GPS, which brought her to the exact location, she was thankful for the parking space right in front of the store, and the coffee place they were supposed to meet at was only a short walk down the street.
There weren’t any fancy alarm systems in place, just a key that fit in the door, but once Ansley entered the premises, she felt as if she had stepped into a twilight zone.
What the actual fresh heck?
She whirled around in her designer heels and gasped in shock.
Dildos. Dildos everywhere. They were lined up on shelves upon shelves in every color, shape, and size imaginable. But that wasn’t all.
Apart from the smorgasbord of synthetic schlongs filling her vision, there were also blow-up dolls floating from the ceiling with their mouths opened into perfectly round o’s.
Mannequins with bad hair stood around wearing crotchless panties. An entire section was plastered with funny-shaped, dome-like things attached to a variety of obviously fake animal tails.Butt plugs.Those were butt plugs.
Whips, crops, canes, paddles, floggers, wooden spoons. Handcuffs, gag balls, coils of rope.
She was sure her nipples yelped on their own accord when her gaze fell onto what could only be considered torture devices, and the smiling woman on the box was not going to fool Ansley that she was having the time of her life with her nipples harnessed that way. No way.
A mini stall stacked with X-rated movie covers occupied one corner, while another sported a small library of erotic literature. A multitude of wicker baskets was piled high with tubes of what could only be lubricants and was scattered around the store.
“Okay.” Ansley closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and retraced her steps. Surely she had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way, which wasn’t surprising given her enthusiastic, though poor, sense of direction.
She must have had the wrong address. Yes, that had to be it. Because if it weren’t so, it would mean that her sweet eighty-two-year-old friend Marjorie, who smelled of almonds and sunshine,had gifted her a store that sold… sex toys.
Sex toys.
