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“A man I’ve been seeing for a bit now. His name’s Marvin, and he’s a day trader. His wife passed away several years ago, and he’s been focused on raising his son, who’s seventeen now. He understands some of the difficulties I’ve had with Olivia, and we just click. He makes me laugh and feel hopeful.”
Mom sounds happier than I’ve heard her in ages, and I have to look up at the headliner of my car and release a slow breath to fight back tears.
“Mom! I’m so happy for you, but do we need to have the sex talk again?” I tease. “It’s not all free love like when you were young. Remember, ‘Safe, Sane, and Consensual’ is the catchphrase now.”
She scoffs. “I’m not that old, Samantha. I wasn’t even born in the sixties for the free love days. And I’m the one who taught you about condoms, STIs, and what to watch for. Speaking of, are you testing regularly?”
Errrrk!I pump the brakes on this whole conversation. “Nope, not discussing my sex life with you. Not now, not ever.”
I can almost hear her smile at having redirected our talk away from her own date and tonight’s activities. “Okay, but I’m here if you need me.”
“Thanks. You too, Mom. And don’t worry, I’ve got Olivia tonight so you can get your freak on with Maaaarvin,” I drawl out theatrically. “Though I’m not sure you can moan that name in a sexy way. You might need a nickname for him.”
“I’ve got one, but you’d be surprised how sexy hearing your name from your lover’s lips can be, no matter what it is,” she says wisely. And mature soon-to-be therapist that I am, I stick my tongue out, gagging silently at the idea of my mother saying the words ‘lover’s lips’. “I won’t keep you, though. I know you said you have a meeting, and I need to head inside. I’m already at Marvin’s. He’s making us dinner.”
“Have fun and behave yourself.”
We hang up, and quick as I can, I text Olivia, knowing that calling her won’t do any good. She doesn’t answer her phone. Ever. But she’ll text or SnapChat back.
Hey, girl! Mom says she’s going on a date and asked me to check in on you. For her sanity and your safety (because I will kill you), please behave. Need anything?
Two seconds later, I get back an eyeroll emoji. I hope that doesn’t mean she’s up to no good, but I’ve got to trust her. Plus, she knows I’m only half-kidding about killing her if she does do something stupid or dangerous.
Maybe we can hang out tomorrow?
When she sends back a pancakes emoji, I breathe a sigh of relief. If she’s thinking about brunch, she can’t be up to anything too bad, right? I heart her emoji and then send Jaxx a short message to let her know I’m here and on my way inside before shoving my phone back into my purse.
I was already late, but now I’mlate.
I grab the pink bag full of loose products from my backseat, knowing I’ll have to make another trip for the gift boxes, and click-clack across the parking lot in my heels as fast as I can.
Inside, the lobby is elegant and grand, apt for the hotel’s name. At the front desk, the receptionist is typing furiously on her phone—her personal one, not the hotel’s—and doesn’t look up at my approach.
“Excuse me?” I wait for her to respond or at least look up from her phone, but when she continues typing, I clear my throat. “Excuse me,” I repeat a bit louder. She glances up, one brow arched as if I’m the one being rude. “Could you tell me where the Bedroom Heaven party is?” I ask quietly, not wanting to announce to the bustling lobby of people that I’m here for the sex toy convention.
Her eyes drop back to her phone as she answers, “Third door on the left.” She waves a hand in the general direction of a hallway off to the side.
I don’t bother saying thank you because she’s already scowling at her phone and ignoring me again.
Hustling to the hallway she indicated, my heels sink into the lush carpet as I count doors. I get to the third one, which looks remarkably plain, and pause. I smooth my hands over my hips, straightening the jumpsuit I chose for this shindig. It’s a few shades darker than my pink bag, with a deep V neckline and small ruffles at the shoulders that give it a feminine look but wide legs that flow like trousers. I shake my dark curls so they flow down my back and take a steadying breath.
“Here goes, girl. You’ve got this.”
I’m expecting to walk into the sexual wonderland of shoppers, tapas, and cocktails Jaxx told me to expect from a Bedroom Heaven quarterly party. Instead, it’s dark and I hear faint applause. “Shit, I’m late,” I whisper to myself, thinking I’m missing the intro to kick off the festivities.
I try to make my way through the darkness toward the sliver of light ahead, but I trip over something. A cord, maybe? Whatever it is, I go flying forward and hit solid ground with a hard thud. “Fuck,” I hiss, suddenly blinded by a bright light.
Any other time, I might think I’ve died in some freakFinal Destinationtype accident, but my hip hurts too much for me to be dead.
I hear a chorus of gasps, and as I blink away the dark spots in my vision, I realize that I have an audience filled with young men watching my misfortune with rapt attention. Some look horrified, others seem amused, and still others are looking at my askew legs.
I shift, trying to make sure a breast hasn’t escaped in my fall, and vaguely wonder where all the women are. I was expecting a penis party, but I figured they’d all be silicone, not flesh and bone.
And then I realize that with my tumble, my bag of goodies has spilled everywhere and I’m surrounded by dildos, vibrators, butt plugs, and cock rings of every size, shape, color, and texture. It’s a ‘lions, tigers, and bears, oh, my!’ type situation of the toy variety, including one dildo that’s rolling toward me threateningly, stopping mere inches from my face with the pee hole—which is a convenient lube dispenser—pointing right at me.
IwishI were dead.
But as bad as this is, it gets worse as a tall, blond man stomps toward me, each step sounding like a hammer of doom. He’s glaring angrily and kicking dicks as he comes closer. “What are you doing?”
