ThePornShop

The freaks come out at night.

And when you work in a porn shop, they also come out during the day.

For example, the first customer I had of the day, it took me a few minutes to decide if this person was biologically male or female. Which is fine, that’s not the weird part, everyone calm down.

However, as I was helping her (conclusively), a couple entered the shop. One younger woman, maybe in her late twenties with the largest breasts I have ever seen. Larger, in fact, than a human head. Which, compared to a standard breast, is pretty damn big.

And her (as I later learned) fiance was an older man, probably late fifties. A college professor (oh my).

Annnnd she’s just a little bundle of… something. Following me around the store, telling my customers they’re beautiful and making suggestions as to what lingerie they should buy. Okay, love, you don’t work here. Please stop hounding the customers.

“WHERE ARE YOUR TOYS?”

I get this question a lot. Half the store is toys, I, for one, don’t really understand how people can’t find them.

Regardless, it’s my job to guide them there, so I do.

“WHERE IS YOUR ANAL STUFF HEEHEEHEE.”

“Oh that’s right over here.”

Annnnd the fiance interjects, “Honey are you ready to go?”

“HOLD ON. I NEED THE,” and then she whispers (though still rather loudly), “silver bullet.”

“Baby, I’ve already got it,” he says.

“I KNEW THERE WAS A REASON I WANTED TO MARRY YOU. ISN’T HE WONDERFUL? I NEVER GET TO COME HERE. I LOVE THIS STORE. HE ALWAYS COMES HERE WITHOUT ME.”

And he slyly slips in, “There’s a reason for that.” Though I don’t think she caught on to that…

So he bought her a body stocking

and a pair of $85 boots

(yes I put this deliciously trashy outfit together myself).

Tack on the toys, batteries, expensive porn, lube, etc., the man threw down a good $200 on this psycho lady.
So they’re at the register and she just starts babbling, “GOD YOU ARE JUST GORGEOUS. I COULD JUST TAKE YOU HOME AND EAT YOU UP. CAN I EAT YOUR UP? BABY ISN’T SHE JUST BEAUTIFUL?”

(Please read “the fiance’s” lines in a voice reminiscent of Ben Stein (the clear eyes guy))

“Not as beautiful as you. No offense you’re very beautiful but what can I say I’m in love.”

Wow, really convincing there, champ. Try not to be so passionate at your wedding.

Needless to say I declined the offer to be taken home, and uh… eaten up. Raincheck?

Lights out, ladies.

Sundays are nice at The Shop. Granted business is ungodly slow (get it? ungodly? sunday is a holy day? har har har? Fine.) but it’s a nice chance to earn easy money and not have to explain to a woman where her g-spot is or assure a guy that anal does not make him gay (but that it’s okay if he is). Plus it’s a short shift, 5-10.

But yesterday I got a call at 11 (WHICH, by the way, is WAY TOO EARLY (I should not be out of bed before noon)) from the opener, who was sobbing due to intense cramps (ladies who can sympathize, please do so (I’ve worked through a kidney infection and toughed that shit out, I have 0% sympathy)) and says that she is incapable of staying away from the toilet for more than five minutes for fear of upping her breakfast. And could I please come in?

Of course. Never turn down hours, even if it means crawling out of your snuggly bed (in which you have the benefit of snuggling with an incredible snuggly snuggle partner (EVEN THOUGH SOMETIMES HE WILL LITERALLY LAY ON TOP OF ME (what?? (yeah, it’s weird (totally endearing, though))))).

So I hauled my ass out of bed and to the store.

Sales were so low, we probably could have made/saved money by closing the store that day.

Oh, just kidding, we did. Because at about 6:30 the power goes off. All of it. Completely. Computers, cameras, lights. All kaput. With customers in the store trying to browse at lingerie and games.

Oh (again), except somehow there was enough (back-up battery?) power in several things that provided them with the ability to beep (in different pitches, at different beats). Not annoying at all.

“Uhh.. what?”

A little nervous laughter and a customer says, “what’s going on?”

I, of course, am not blessed with omniscience and had no explanation for the inexplicable outage (neither did the power company, by the way). But I explained that I wouldn’t be able to ring them up as the computer was down, and to open the register manually I would need a key, and to get the key I would need to call the Area General Manager (AGM) to ask permission, and to call the AGM I would need a phone, but our phones are cordless and thus go out with the power.

Sorry, Champ.

So most everyone leaves, but one chick brings her lingerie up to the counter to purchase. I guess the whole “power is out and I can’t ring you up” speech didn’t quite strike a chord with her. I re-explained and she left in a tizzy.

I called the store manager (on my cell phone that I wasn’t supposed to have (but thank god I did)) and told her what happened. And she called the AGM who freaked out and told her to tell me to call the power company.

Sooo I did, and as I’m on the phone reporting the outage, the big Hispanic guy from the Chaldean Church Club next door (…what?) pops his head in the door and says “Oh your guys’ power is off too. I think it’s everyone over here.”

And the power company confirmed, the outage affected approximately 1,500 customers. Cool. I don’t care when is it coming back on?

“Our initial estimate is between 6:30 and 8:30…”

Cool! is like 6:45 now.

“…on Tuesday?”

I’m sorry, who? What?

“Did you just say Tuesday?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ooooookay, thanks.”

So I’m trapped alone in the dark in this creepy ass porn shop, trying to take inventory with a flashlight.

My manager finally stops by with a corded phone and says to shut/lock the store, and wait for AGM approval to head home.

Two and a half hours later, approval comes. Why am I sitting in a closed store that has no power for two and a half hours?

All’s well that ends well though, I got paid until the technical end of my shift rather than the time I actually left. Cool.

Sugar daddy?

I get a lot of offers at the Shop. I once had a seemingly legit one from a woman asking me if I wanted to be a classic pin-up model (to which the answer is a resounding, “fuck yeah!”).

It was a little different this time around. Guys usually come in for the porn, and this fella was no different. Middle aged, black, not unattractive (but let’s be honest, I don’t really go for guys 25+ years my senior). My lack of attraction, however did not prevent this man from posing a curious question, “Do you need a sugar daddy?”

My response, “Hah! Doesn’t everyone need a sugar daddy?”

I mean… right? Of course it would be convenient. and make rent that much more affordable. Like having a roommate to split the bills, without having to actually put up with them. Niiiice.

This guy was actually serious though, which I discovered when he said, “I’m serious.”

A little hesitant, I pulled out the extended. “IIIIIII dunno…”

And by a little hesitant I mean yeah, I was actually giving this a little consideration (lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me: you would consider it too).

So he explained that he didn’t want anything from me, he’s an attorney, his wife is a doctor, and she doesn’t have two shits to spare for anything he does as long as he brings home some dough at the end of the day. So yeah, he’s a bread-winner, but she is too, and it’s not like she’s really in want or need of anything without him.

In other words, he wants a cute girl to take care of, because the poor guy is under appreciated.

So he left me his number, and said that I could call him and he would swing by the next time I work to give me a couple hundred dollars to help with my rent. Just to show me that he’s serious.

I didn’t call. Let’s be honest, I really couldn’t take advantage of a guy who was probably trying to take advantage of me by allowing me to take advantage of him.

Sorry Lee.

Jungle cat.

I’m kind of a night owl, so I like that the porn shop is open late and I get to work late hours. But regardless of how late I like to stay up, when it’s closing time, it’s time to go home goddamnit.

And for the most part, 11:45 rolls around and the store is blissfully empty, which allows me to start my cleaning and closing duties. But sometimes there’s that one person who sneaks in at the last minute. Asshole, we’re open for 14 hours, I’m sure you can get here a wee bit earlier.

It’s usually some lonely guy who wants some porn though, in…out…painless.

But this guy comes in with his friend, and starts actually shopping. Anyone in any kind of service position knows you don’t do that.

If you go into a restaurant 5 minutes to close… you’re an asshole.

If you go into a grocery store 5 minutes to close… you’re an asshole.

If you go into a porn shop 5 minnutes to close… you’re an asshole.

So these two guys walk in, and they’re looking all over the toy section, putting the occasional product on the counter (we don’t have baskets, so customers like me to hold onto their things so they don’t have to carry them) and one guy (the only one to talk at all, actually) asks, “So what’s hot?”

Worst question ever. And asked so often.

So I showed him the Lelos, because they are, in fact, hot. And expensive.

Guy: I already got one of those. What else?

Great. It’s 12 midnight, and these guys want to ask questions. So I showed him the wevibe (AMAZING) and explained how it works.

And booooy was he excited about it. So he put it on the counter. This sort of pushed my temper back, if you’re going to be here late, at least spend some good money. And he was.

Guy: What else do you like?

Oh.So.Much. That’s why I work there.

I showed this guy edible massage oils, games, toys, lingerie, paddles, ropes… the whole shebang.

and he says to me, “You’re a freak aren’t you? Yeah. You are.” So I just laughed and blew it off.

“What about this? Lace is really hot.”

“Aw yeah. Give that here.”

Onto the counter. Every single thing I suggested, he put on the counter. Every.single.thing.

So I’m ringing this guy up at a quarter after and he’s still telling me what a freak he just knows I am.

“What’s your sign, baby?”

“Scorpio.”

“Man, girl. I knew it. I’m a scorpio too. I could tell. I could just tell. Wanna know how? ‘Cause I’m wild baby. I am a Wild Cat. And you are too. I can just tell. We from the same.jungle. baby. I know you.”

He spent $600.

“Alright baby I’ll see you later. And you’ll remember next time I come in. You’ll be like ‘yeah. he a freak.’”

Just another face in the slew of creeps who come in too late and keep me after close. Sorry.

Negligence.

I said to myself, “what a great blog idea. I should do that.”

And then I proceeded to create this account, and completely forget about it.

I suck, so sue me.

But you all should absolutely know that on day four of my prestigious job, an older foreign gentleman came to visit.

He appears to be in his early to mid 50’s, and judging by his accent, some kind of Eastern European. Unfortunately, he has “problems finishing” when he’s with his lady friend. And by “problems finishing” I mean problems not finishing. Immediately. By his own claim he is “finished as soon as he is in.”

Yeah that’s a problem, and thanks for the visual.

So I offer him information on cock rings (I hate cock rings), and the various pills we have.

And then I find out that this poor guy has a slew of other sexual maladies.

“Whenever I touch a stranger, I am immediately aroused.”

Well great.

So I bring this guy over to the cock rings (which, for the uninformed, are (usually) rubber-y bands that one places around the base of the penis to restrict blood flow, and thus keep the penis firmer, longer) and he looks at them says, “I do not think these will fit,” and then fondles himself through his pants to determine size.

He ends up buying pills, going out to his car (probably to take them), and then coming.back.in

So he says, “what do you have to turn me on?” To which I want to respond, “you have zero issues getting turned on, buddy. Just walk through a mall, bump a few strangers, and then run to the bathroom.” Instead, I direct him to the porn corner, full of various dvd’s and magazines (even vhs… what?). And he says, “No, none of that… What do you have to turn her on?”

“Um. This half of the store.” I then walk around the toy section of the store, and explain to this guy what each toy does, and where you put it.

And then we happen upon our miniscule bondage section, where there is a picture of a girl tied, with her legs in the air kind of like this,

but legs not crossed, and all tied up.

So he  says, “This is a beautiful picture.”

Strokes her vagina.

And asks, “How much can I pay you to touch me right now?”

What? “No.”

“Not even a little bit?”

… what? “No. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

And he did, thank god. Creepshow.

Welcome to The Porn Shop

For relatively obvious reasons, I choose not to disclose my name or location. I will, however, disclose a slew of wonderful things that come with working in an Adult Novelty Shop. Included will be incredible stories, curious products, the sharing of my inevitably growing sexual knowledge (I’m actually a “sexpert” by Cosmo’s standards) and my likely overwhelmingly strong opinions on human sexuality.

Stick around, it’ll be fun.