Chapter Ten

A pang of nervous excitement jitterbugged in Della’s stomach as they pulled up at Frieda’s lunchtime Thursday. She couldn’t believe she was about to visit a sex shop.

At lunchtime. On a Thursday.

She wasn’t sure what was a more appropriate time to be visiting a place that sold sexual paraphernalia, but late, late at night seemed more fitting. Or Sunday morning, maybe when every other person in eastern Colorado was in church and not around to witness any scandalous purchases.

“It really is god-awful, isn’t it?” Rosemary said as she exited the vehicle and looked up at the giant gyrating condom doing its little turn atop Frieda’s roof.

“I think it’s hysterical,” Marley said, also staring at it.

“Me, too,” Molly agreed. She snapped a pic with her phone. “My Insta-fans are going to love it.”

Della’s discreet trip to Frieda’s Palace had turned into a sex shop road trip for five. All it was missing was a bride-to-be and a pitcher of margaritas. But the more the merrier, as far as she was concerned. Hopefully everyone would be too busy to notice her lack of experience where female pleasure items, as Rosemary kept calling them, were concerned.

“It’s quite hypnotic,” Winona added as they all took a moment to admire the rotating Trojan.

Rosemary was the first to break the inertia. “Well, come on, ladies…this list”—she pulled out a piece of paper and waved it in the air—“is burning a hole in my pocket.”

Winona laughed, sliding her arm through Rosemary’s. “Mrs. Forbes, you and I need to talk,” she said as they set off together.

Della tagged along beside Molly and Marley, who eagerly followed the leaders as they chatted happily about specialized lingerie and chocolate body paint. Within thirty seconds, they were at the doors, and Della took a deep steadying breath as she entered the shop.

Taking Selena’s concern about the potential triggers of such a shopping experience into account, she’d googled sex shops to prepare herself for what she might find, which included YouTube videos to familiarize herself with the general layout.

All of the images and video footage she’d seen were of cluttered shop spaces and packed shelves. Tacky displays of vibrators, nipple clamps, and butt plugs all mounted on walls like the power tool display at Home Depot. Blow-up dolls hanging from the ceiling like giant Halloween spiders. Aisles of pornographic DVDs and racks and racks of risqué costumes for special adult dress-ups.

Not so Frieda’s.

Given the giant prophylactic on the roof, Della had expected palace to be ironic, but it was actually…classy. An upmarket brothel compared to a free window peep show. There was sumptuous carpet and fancy shelving and zero clutter. The displays were subtle rather than tacky, and the lighting was subdued. A multitude of quality display fixtures and elegant drawers showcased artfully placed wares, and some kind of classical music was being piped through the speakers.

It was like shopping at an Ethan Allen as opposed to Big Lots.

Not a blow-up doll in sight.

And it was surprisingly roomy. Deceptively so. From the outside, the shop didn’t look that big, but inside, it was quite spacious. Like a TARDIS. For the sexually adventurous Time Lord.

“Man,” Winona said. “I feel like I’ve fallen down the triple X-rated version of the rabbit hole.”

Rosemary held up a skimpy pair of red lacy panties with Eat me embroidered across the front in gold thread from a nearby rack. “Ray’s going to love these.”

Everyone seemed to disperse then, except for Della, who was momentarily paralyzed. Overwhelmed by her inexperience and the sheer choice.

“Where do you want to start?”

Winona’s low question to her right startled Della, and she realized she must be standing out like a pimple on a pumpkin, her head swiveling wildly around like a demented owl’s, her eyes just as large. Her first instinct was to pretend she was just looking, because admitting to being here for something specific seemed so…brazen. But hell, she was here for something specific, and Della doubted Winona would be scandalized by anything.

And she was preferable to Rosemary. Della felt enough of a novice without being schooled by an octogenarian in female pleasure items.

“I’m interested in the, um…” It was ridiculous how faint she felt even uttering the word out loud. But hell, if she was going to buy one and use it, she might as well embrace it. “Dildos.”

“Alrighty then.” Winona gave her a smile and her arm an encouraging squeeze. “You’re in luck. I’m an expert in that department. I have quite a collection.”

Della didn’t doubt for a moment she was in good hands as she was led toward a gilded countertop.

“The best part is,” Winona confided, “I get to claim them as a tax deduction.”

Della glanced at Winona, startled. “The IRS lets you claim…female pleasure items on your taxes?”

“Sure.” She shrugged. “It’s research. Gotta keep up with the market.”

Della’s brain was officially blown. She’d been impressed she’d been able to claim her work shoes as a deduction, but that didn’t come close to getting the IRS to pay for orgasms.

She was vaguely aware of a clicking noise as she stared at Winona, but it wasn’t until a woman said, “Hi, I’m Frieda,” that Della dragged her gaze from Winona’s grin to face the woman who’d entered via the swinging bead curtain behind the counter.

Frieda appeared to be in her late fifties, with a forehead devoid of wrinkles and a tightness to her mouth that did not appear natural. She had bright pink lipstick, matching bright pink nails, and a genuine beehive hairdo to go with her genuine smile of welcome. She was wearing a fringed, rhinestone-studded shirt that pulled tight across her ample cleavage and spoke with a southern drawl.

Della hadn’t known there was an actual Frieda, but if she had, this was not who Della would have imagined. This very boudoir-style shop seemed to demand a bustier-wearing burlesque dancer or a dominatrix, perhaps. Not Dolly Parton circa 1970.

“Y’all just here for some browsing fun, or are you after something specific?”

“There’s actually a Frieda?” Winona asked, obviously as surprised as Della by the revelation.

“There sure is, honey.” Frieda held out her hand, and Winona shook it. “Frieda Cilento. Pleased to meetcha.”

The woman offered her hand to Della, who also took it, shaking absently.

Winona, being Winona, recovered quickly. “Della here would like to look at some dildos.”

Della appreciated Winona keeping her voice low, but her cheeks heated just the same. She was tempted, so tempted, to drop her gaze, but neither Frieda nor Winona seemed embarrassed by the subject, so damn it all—she wouldn’t, either.

“That’s right,” she confirmed with a definitive nod. To hell with female pleasure items or coyly whispering what she needed.

“Well now, hun, you’ve come to the right place. Are you after a vibrator or a dildo?”

“Oh.” Della glanced at Winona. “Umm…”

“Dildos are stationery,” Winona murmured. “Kind of a dick substitute. Vibrators vibrate.”

Well duh…of course. Except Della had no idea what she wanted. Sucking in a breath, she looked directly at Frieda. “I’m not really sure, to be honest. Could I look at both?”

“Of course, sugar,” Frieda said with a smile.

Winona shot her an admiring look. “Attagirl,” she whispered.

Della felt stupidly buoyed at her boldness. It didn’t last long. “This is my current range right here in these cabinets.” Frieda palmed the glass beneath her elbows, and Della was pleased she hadn’t succumbed to the urge to look down earlier.

She might have chickened out for good at the mind-boggling selection.

“Oh…my.” Della exhaled as she took in the breadth of Frieda’s collection, blinking at the kaleidoscope of lurid colors laid out like pieces of candy behind the glass.

Climax candy.

Frieda rolled out a long piece of crushed velvet on the countertop before reaching underneath and pulling the devices out one by one and laying them down. “Sex toys are like men,” Frieda observed throatily. “You should always try before you buy.” After placing the last one down, she looked directly into Della’s eyes. “Have a play, get the feel of them, and see what you think.”

There were a dozen different models in front of her, and it was fair to say Della didn’t even know where to start.

“It’s okay, sugar,” Frieda urged with a smile. “You can pick them up. They won’t bite. BOBs are good like that. They won’t hog the bed or make you lie in the wet spot, either,” she said with a wink.

BOBs? She glanced at Winona again, who said, “Battery-operated boyfriend.”

Oh God. That was what she was here purchasing, wasn’t it? A BOB!

Hand trembling, Della reached for the closest specimen. It was a light blue dildo with an exceedingly realistic vein network and impressive thickness. It was made of silicone, managing to be both hard and still spongy at the same time. She took in the girth and the blueness and wasn’t turned on.

Frankly, it looked like most of them could do her some kind of injury.

Was she supposed to be aroused by the sight of these…BOBs? And if so, why wasn’t she? But also, seriously, these looked like pro-level devices. Like she needed some kind of degree in masturbation to figure them out.

Surely there was an entry-level BOB?

The one in her hand was more like a battering ram or some kind of weapon. Who needed a gun when there was a club stashed in the bedside drawer?

Excruciatingly aware of Rosemary and Molly discussing cock rings—whatever the hell they were—somewhere off to the left, Della placed the dildo down. As if sensing how overwhelmed Della was, Frieda patted her hand. “Would you like me to take you through the merits of each model, hun?”

Relief, sharp and palpable, flooded Della’s system. “Oh yes, please.”

“Hey, us women, we gotta stick together,” Frieda said. “Reckon we should have to do the same for the men in our lives, too. Form a council of women and discuss the merits of each one, write out a list of pros and cons, ya know? Before we let any of our friends get too involved.”

Frieda laughed deep and throaty again. So did Winona. Della nodded in agreement. It sure as hell would have stopped her from making a monumental mistake.

“Okay now, this is your basic dildo.” Frieda’s pink sparkly nails tapped on the plain cylindrical plastic. It wasn’t particularly big or thick or long. “Nothing fancy or flexible about it, but good if you’re after something to just fill you up while you get off, yeah?”

The sex-shop owner was looking at Della for confirmation. She just nodded, because thinking about that made her think about Tucker and how conflicted she was about wanting him to fill her up and get her off, which made it difficult to form words. If she’d known coming to Frieda’s was going to make her think more of Tucker, not less, she might have rethought this expedition.

Frieda went through the selection of dildos she’d laid out, and Della’s embarrassment faded as her sexual curiosity cranked up.

“Now these”—Frieda indicated the section of devices she hadn’t yet touched—“are the vibrators. All made from medical-grade silicone, all BPA free, and all come with a one-year warranty.”

Della nodded, thoroughly impressed with Frieda’s sale pitch.

“This one”—she picked up a hot pink phallus—“is the basic vibrator.”

It was essentially the same shape as the dildo with a slightly more bulbous head. Frieda stood the item up and fiddled with the base for a moment before a whirring noise kicked in and the object started to quiver. She let it stand on its own, and all three of them watched as it trembled on the spot.

“There’s nothing too outlandish about it. Just a nice buzz, if you know what I mean. And”—she flipped it over so they could inspect the bottom—“It has three different speed settings.”

Frieda took it through the next two levels. By the time it got to the highest setting, the vibrator actually shimmied across the velvet a little before toppling over and buzzing merrily through its little disco dance for one.

“Then we get more adventurous.”

Frieda grabbed the next one, also hot pink. It was more sculptured, and shimmying was obviously not its thing. The head revolved, and the settings didn’t just involve speed but different kinds of stimulation, like pulsing and undulating, with rotating beads just below the surface for extra zing.

“These next few are different variations on that. Then we get to…” She pointed at a model that looked very familiar, with a protrusion from the main trunk that ended in two little ears. “The rabbit.”

“That’s my go-to,” Winona confessed.

Frieda grinned. “Mine, too.”

“Mine three.” Rosemary appeared at Della’s other elbow.

Yeah. Della remembered.

“Mine four,” said a customer who had walked into the store not too long ago.

Della blinked. Was she the only woman in eastern Colorado who didn’t own a vibrator?

“It has dual motors,” Frieda continued. “One operates the clitoral stimulator, and the other handles the G-spot stimulation.”

The first time Della heard about the G-spot had been in one of Winona’s novels. She’d been so curious she’d Googled it, only to find that it wasn’t exactly the most accessible part of her anatomy, and she’d relegated it to the too-hard basket.

But maybe with the rabbit…

“It has a load of different speed and intensity settings, and it’s whisper quiet.” Frieda picked it up and turned it on, ramping it up to maximum throttle to demonstrate the quietness of the hum it emitted. She handed it to Della to get a feel as she reached for the next one in line.

“This one here comes with a cordless remote control.”

Della instantly forgot about the bunny-eared phallus writhing in her palm. “Remote control?” She tried not to look like her brain had just exploded.

“Sure, sugar,” Frieda said. “It’s less…disruptive, shall I say, to your experience to have a control to adjust things, rather than having to interrupt the fun times to reach down and blindly fiddle with the settings.”

“Ah.” Della nodded. She hadn’t thought about the logistics, but it made sense.

“Or”—Frieda waggled her eyebrows—“give it to someone else to control, if you get my drift.”

Yes…Della got her drift. And didn’t that open up some possibilities. When she’d contemplated purchasing a BOB, it had been for her private use. The thought she could share it with someone else was a whole new level of hell yes please.

“What’s the range on that thing?” Winona asked.

“This one, you need to be in the same house. But I’m getting in a whole new generation shortly where you can be on the other side of the planet. All you need is a phone and an app.”

Della blinked. Wow…there really was an app for everything.

“And a good wifi connection,” Rosemary mused. “You don’t want to be on the brink of calling out to Jesus and suddenly have buffering issues.”

Winona laughed. “That would be inconvenient.”

Rosemary tapped her temple. “Us country folk gotta think of things like that. The internet around here can be as hinky as a two-dollar watch.”

Frieda reached for the last vibrator in line. “Now this beauty is the very latest model I have. Came in a few days ago.” It was purple and was more of a U shape. The vaginal prong of the U was shorter and thicker than the other vibrators. The other prong was about the same shape but flatter with a central…mouth? “It’s called The Suck-u-buzz and uses direct suction on the clitoris.”

In unison, Della, Winona, and Rosemary all leaned closer as Frieda turned it on and both ends vibrated. “Watch.” She turned her arm over and placed the mouth on the underside of her wrist. Della watched—they all did—as the skin drew taut around the mouth, then released as if it was actually sucking. “It uses sonic waves and pulses to provide a direct stimulus not to just the external structure of the clitoris but the parts you can’t see. It has eight different settings, and it’s waterproof so you can take it in the shower or a hot tub.”

“Is it any good?” Winona reached for it, placing the mouth on her inner wrist, too. She stared at the object as it sucked on her arm, her expression inscrutable. “Have you tried it?”

“Oh my, yes. Mind-blowing. Best I’ve ever had.” Frieda pressed her palm to her chest as if trying to still palpitations. “Trust me, sugar, you won’t want to be operating heavy machinery for at least an hour or so after you’ve used it.”

Della was entranced by The Suck-u-buzz. It was the most fascinating of all Frieda’s BOBs. And who could beat such a personal recommendation?

“Let me see that thing,” Rosemary announced. She held her hand out for it, and Winona passed it across. She turned it on and attached it to her skin exactly where the others had tested it out. “Mmm.” She nodded. “That is good. And I wouldn’t mind an upgrade. Had the rabbit for a while now.” She switched it off and passed it to Della. “Probably going to need a little something extra, too, now that my sons have made it clear they don’t approve of my dalliance with Ray, and he’s insisting he do the honorable thing and stop seeing me.”

“What?” Della frowned, forgetting about The Suck-u-buzz for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“I told them about him yesterday afternoon. They weren’t very happy. They think I’m too old.”

“That’s outrageous, Rosemary.” Winona’s voice was full of indignation. “A woman’s sexual drive doesn’t wither just because she ages.”

“I know that, dear. But they’re men who prefer not to think about their mother’s sex life. I think they thought I’d just be happy to live on memories of Winston.”

“Pfft.” Winona scowled. “They should be proud of their mother wanting to stay so active.”

“Oh, they’re all for me being active, dear. As long as it’s Zumba or Pilates.”

“Would you like for me to have a chat with them?” Winona volunteered.

The older woman laughed. “Oh, I’d pay good money to see that.” She laughed again. “But they’re good boys. They just need some time to adjust to the situation.”

“You’re not going to seriously stop seeing each other, are you?” Della pressed.

“Ray’s adamant he doesn’t want to cause any ructions in the family.”

“Oh, Rosemary.” Della put her hand on the older woman’s shoulder, conscious of the bony angles. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine.” She patted Della’s hand. “But until I can convince Ray otherwise…” She plucked The Suck-u-buzz out of Della’s hands. “I’ll take one of these, please, Frieda.”

“Me, too,” Winona said.

“And you?” Frieda inquired as three sets of eyes turned in Della’s direction.

Della glanced at the vibrator. It was so tempting.

“Just putting this out there.” Winona leaned in and lowered her voice. “You don’t have to get just one.”

More than one. She hadn’t planned on buying multiple toys, but…why not? Hell, if she hadn’t just spent most of her savings on a car, she’d be tempted to buy the lot and test-drive every one of them. She could have some kind of scoring system. Hell, she could start a spreadsheet. All she’d need was a locked bedroom door, a couple of days off in a row, and a stock of Pringles and bottled water.

But with her funds limited, Della had to be choosy. She ran her eyes up and down the row of climax candy before settling on The Suck-u-buzz still in Rosemary’s possession. Dare she? Taking a deep breath, she tapped the first dildo model Frieda had demonstrated. “I’ll have this one. And”—she pointed at the rabbit—“this one with the remote control. And…I’ll also take The Suck-u-buzz.”

She had a feeling she was going to need to work her way up to The Suck-u-buzz.

Frieda was delighted. “I do like a woman who knows how to shop.”

“Ring ’em up, Frieda,” Winona said on a laugh. “Before she chickens out.”

Della laughed, too, but she wasn’t going to chicken out. Hell no. She was making time for her BOBs tonight. Her therapist had recommended it. And Della always had been a good patient.

Twenty minutes later, five happy customers were leaving the store with multiple shopping bags. “A pleasure doing business with you,” Frieda said at the door as she watched them all file out. The woman had a smile as big as Colorado on her face. Understandable, given she’d just made enough money to shut up shop for the week.

“Della?”

Oh crap. Della’s heart leapt into her throat. She turned to find her brother crossing the parking lot toward them with that long-legged stride, his limp barely perceptible. Della had to admit, he wore his uniform well, his mirrored aviator sunglasses giving him a remote, inscrutable expression.

“Hey…” she said as he came to a halt in front of the little group. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw your car.” He removed his glasses and anchored them in his shirt pocket. “I thought I’d see what you’re up to.”

“Just…” She swallowed. “Shopping.”

His gaze dropped to the pastel pink shopping bag she was holding. It had Frieda’s Palace printed boldly on the front in a lacy black print. Her first instinct was to guiltily hide the bag behind her, but he’d already seen it, and, last time she checked, buying sex toys was not a crime.

So, screw that.

With Winona’s hand—she didn’t have to turn to know it was her—suddenly at the small of her back, she straightened her spine.

“Yeah…so I see.” His gaze ran over the rest of the crowd, coming to rest on Winona. “I suppose this was your idea?”

“Arlo.” Della jumped in before Winona got the chance, narrowing her eyes at her brother. “Don’t be so rude. It was my idea.”

“Hey, Arlo,” a voice said from behind them.

Arlo flicked his attention to the door. “Hey, Frieda. Business is good, I see.”

“Booming,” Frieda confirmed with a laugh.

Winona raised an eyebrow. “On a first-name basis with Frieda there, Cap’n Crunch? I think I’ve been underestimating you.”

He gave her a tight smile. “You have no idea.”

Interestingly, Della felt Winona’s fingers curl into her shirt. “That’s funny. I didn’t picture you as the blow-up-doll type.”

He gave a half smile. “Whereas I pictured you exactly as the sex-shop-tour-guide type.”

“Ooh, officer…you’ve been picturing me?” Winona batted her eyelashes before turning her head slightly. “Hey, Frieda, I don’t suppose you have a T-shirt that says sex shop tour guide, do you?”

“’Fraid not, sugar. I got one that says Wine and Dildos.”

“I’ll take it.” Winona smiled. “The perfect night in.”

Oookay…as entertaining as it was to watch the back-and-forth between Arlo and Winona, they were attracting onlookers. And while Della may not have shriveled up and died at her brother knowing she’d just bought something—several somethings—at a sex shop, she didn’t want to advertise it to all and sundry, either.

“Anyway,” Della said. “It was nice”—awkward—“bumping into you, but we’ll be off now.”

Arlo nodded quickly, as if he, too, had zero desire to prolong this little interchange. He tipped his hat and stood aside. “You ladies all have a good day now.”

Winona flashed her shopping bag at Arlo, swinging it off her index finger. “Oh…we intend to,” she said with a saucy wink as she brushed past Arlo.

Della squeezed his arm as she passed by. “Stay safe on the roads,” he said gruffly. “There’s a storm front coming in later this afternoon.”

The sky was endlessly blue, the sun even warm, for March. But Della knew the weather in these parts could change rapidly. “I will,” she said reassuringly before scurrying after the others, who were crossing the parking lot.

“I don’t know if you know this, Della,” Rosemary announced as she caught up with her posse. “But your brother is one hella fine piece of ass.”

Della almost choked on her own tongue as Molly, Marley, and Winona all laughed.

“That he is,” Molly agreed.

“Yup.” Marley nodded. “Bone fide hottie.”

“Pfft.” Winona’s pfft was highly disparaging. “The man’s so uptight I bet you couldn’t squeeze a credit card between those ass cheeks.”

Rosemary grinned. “I volunteer to try.”

They were all laughing hard as they climbed into Jolene and headed home.

…

Tucker was trashing Drew’s latest euphemism for his funeral-home business—Ever After—when Arlo threw himself down on a barstool several hours later without greeting any of the customers. “Bourbon. Neat.”

Drew raised an eyebrow at Tucker, who wordlessly reached for a glass with one hand and the booze with the other. He placed the glass in front of Arlo and splashed in a couple of fingers. “Tough day.”

“You could say that.” Arlo threw the tumbler back and brought the empty glass down onto the bar with a solid thunk.

Tucker had a very bad feeling this wasn’t work related. He could read Arlo well. Work stuff got Arlo all antsy and puffed up, cussing up a storm. It was family—Della—that drove him to drink.

Della, who he’d pushed against Wade Carter’s penthouse windows and kissed like a crazy person in Denver. Della, who he’d been trying not to think about all week. Della, who he’d been actively avoiding.

Didn’t look like he was going to be able to avoid talking about her now, though. Resigned, Tucker held up the bottle. “Another?”

Arlo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yes but no. Weather’s about to get shitty. I’ll get called out for sure at some point.”

“So?” Drew demanded. “What happened?”

“I saw Della today,” he said, staring into the bottom of his tumbler.

Bingo!

“O…kay.” Drew nodded encouragingly even though he was frowning. “But…she lives with you, so I’m assuming you see her most days.”

Arlo lifted his head and pierced Drew with a look. “She was coming out of Frieda’s. With a bag.”

“Ah.” Drew’s frown straightened out.

Ah indeed. Well…she hadn’t wasted any time, had she? Her dating life hadn’t exactly been a roaring success, so it looked like she’d decided to take care of a few things herself. Tucker wished that wasn’t so damn tantalizing.

“I guess that was kinda…” Drew cast around for what Tucker could only assume was an appropriately descriptive word. “Awkward.”

“As fuck.”

“Was she there by herself?” Tucker asked.

“No, she had a whole posse. Including Winona.”

Drew laughed. “She went with Winona? I’m surprised she didn’t come out with a jumbo bag.”

“This is not funny,” Arlo snapped. “Frieda sells…things that could be triggering.”

“Oh…sorry.” Drew didn’t know any of the details of Della’s abuse, except that it had been bad, and it was obvious he understood Arlo’s concern. “She seemed okay, though?”

“Yeah.” Arlo sighed. “She seemed fine.”

“Good.” Drew took a sip of his beer. “Look…tell me to shut up if you want, but…the visit to Frieda’s? If her purchase helps to take her mind off finding some guy on Tinder, which makes you kinda crazy, then surely that’s a good thing?”

Arlo nodded slowly, and Tucker could tell by the contemplative expression on his face that Drew’s observation had been a welcome one. Despite being outwardly fine with Della playing on Tinder, they knew Arlo had reservations, and clearly, her seeking an alternative way to have her needs met was going down a lot better.

If only Tucker could stop thinking about another kind of alternative…