Why are you throwing your life away selling those things? People who love each other don’t need that stuff.”
Trixie cringed as her mom’s shrill voice blasted through the phone. She held it away from her ear, which didn’t soften her mom’s tone. Was it just her mom, or did all Asian moms speak at full volume on the phone?
“What am I supposed to tell my friends at church? Auntie Janie will be horrified. Then I’ll have to listen to her brag about that spoiled son of hers. The one who graduated from Yale and is a big-shot lawyer at some prestigious firm in New York.” Her mom scoffed. “He’s probably in charge of getting all those rich white men coffee.”
“Má!” Trixie rubbed her forehead, hoping this conversation wouldn’t give her a headache. Her mom’s rapid-fire Vietnamese hit too many different issues to confront all at once. Trixie responded in Vietnamese. “You don’t have to tell them anything. And yes, Trevor probably is picking up coffee for his bosses. He’s a first-year.”
“You know she’s rubbing Yale in my face because you dropped out of school. You need to go back! Finish what you started.”
Trixie sighed loudly, but her mother ignored her as she usually did.
“Go back to pharmacy school. Or law school like Trevor. More respectable than being a”—her mother paused, then said in English—“therapist.”
Here she goes again. Trixie was convinced her mom knew the Viet word for therapist but chose to say it in English to alienate it. She didn’t have the energy to argue with her mom today.
“How will you make a living listening to people talk all day?” she asked in Vietnamese. “I can do that for free on my porch.”
“Má, I need to go. Get ready for work. Tell Ba that I love him.”
Her mother went quiet at the mention of her father. He hadn’t spoken to her since she flunked out of school. She was too embarrassed to tell them she wasn’t smart enough for pharmacy school. They only knew that she had quit.
“He already knows that,” her mother said softly. “You know he only wants the best for you, right?”
“I know, Má. How’s he doing? Is he taking his meds?”
“I don’t want you to worry, but he’s going in for some tests. Doctor said his cholesterol and blood pressure are too high. Medication is not helping.”
“How bad is it?” She couldn’t tell by her mom’s voice. Trixie sat up straighter. “Do I need to come home and help translate during his doctor appointments?”
“No! Don’t waste money on a plane ticket. Your sister can come and explain everything to us.”
Of course, Lucy, her lawyer sister. Rubbing in the fact that both her older siblings were dutiful kids who had parent-approved careers.
“He still doesn’t want to see me?” Her shoulders slumped.
“You know how stubborn he is. But he’ll come around. I’ll work on it.”
“Okay. I love you, Má.” Trixie blinked away the tears that came to her eyes.
“Good talk. Make sure you eat.” Her mother hung up.
Her mother never said, “I love you,” but Trixie made sure to tell her every time they talked. Declarations of love and displays of affection made her parents uncomfortable. Love was expressed through giant bowls of phở and making sure her car got oil changes every three thousand miles. Maybe it was too American of her to wish for it, but one day her mom would say those three words back to her.
Trixie released the death grip on her phone. Talking to her family was more stressful than not talking to them. Were all Vietnamese mothers this masterful at guilt trips?
No, Zoe’s parents were more laid-back. They always seemed happy with Zoe’s career choice as a plus-size lingerie designer. They even let the Boss Babes hog a table at their restaurant for the weekly lunches. Sometimes they even hung out with the Boss Babes and asked them about their businesses.
All her mom ever asked about her job was when Trixie would quit Bedroom Frenzy. Trixie didn’t know how much mom guilt she’d be subjected to and if she would be given a chance to defend her decision for the umpteenth time. Every phone call left her emotionally spent.
For as long as Trixie could remember, though, nothing she’d done had been good enough for her parents. They constantly bragged about her two older siblings. Binh was a chemical engineer for one of the biochem companies in New Orleans while Lucy owned a law practice and did pro bono work for Vietnamese fishermen who were still fighting for their share of the reparations after the oil spill.
In college, Trixie had tried to take the recommended classes for pharmacy majors. Medicine and other sciences bored her to death, but pharmacy required less school than being a doctor. She could have chosen another parent-approved career, like computer science, but hated the idea of sitting at a desk all day. It didn’t matter which of those disciplines she chose, her grades were never going to be good enough. After jumping from major to major, she’d graduated with a liberal arts degree. How was she supposed to keep up with her siblings or the other smart Viet kids in their social circle? According to her aunties, liberal arts degrees were only good for finding husbands. Trixie didn’t manage to do that either. Flunking out of pharmacy school had been the ultimate failure.
After her parents cut her off and Andre dumped her, Trixie cobbled together work at retail shops. She didn’t love those jobs, but they paid the bills. Plus, she didn’t have to sit in Andre’s apartment all alone any more than necessary.
As much as she disliked working retail, she became great at sales. Through trial and error, she learned how to read people’s body language and facial expressions to sell expensive perfumes and makeup during her stint at Canal Place. The upscale mall in New Orleans’ historic district catered both to tourists and locals.
Selling sex toys wasn’t that much different from pitching beauty products. She honed in on a customer’s problem and found the right product at the right price point for them. With vibrators, she was helping women on a deeper level, unlike pushing wrinkle cream for women who barely had any.
Trixie would show her parents that success didn’t mean picking from a list of Viet-parent-approved careers. This was her year. With the support of her Boss Babes, she’d win the contest.
The first official pop-up had been two weeks ago, a thirtieth birthday party for one of her regular customers. The party was originally at the hostess’s home, but Trixie had bribed her with bonus toys in order to move it to Mama Hazel’s. The per person fee was more than worth it. Who wouldn’t want to hold a party where they didn’t have to cook or clean afterward? By holding the show at the restaurant, her customers could invite even more friends.
The first time had gone well both for her customers and Andre. Trixie had stayed up front by her happy and horny clients while Andre kept to the bar. Keisha was the only one who dared step into their unspoken demilitarized zone.
As long as they barely spoke to each other, Trixie could keep things professional. No personal conversations. Business didn’t rely on emotion to succeed. Making sales required emotion, but not partnerships. She didn’t need to be friends with Andre to win her company’s sales competition.
That realization made her heart drop. Seeing his easy smile and how he charmed his customers at the bar brought her back to the first time they’d met. Her girlfriends had dragged her out to the Quarter for her twenty-first birthday party, when all she’d wanted was to have a quiet dinner with friends. She hated the Quarter at night. Too many drunk tourists who heckled every woman who walked by to show their boobs. As if a set of plastic beads would convince a reasonable woman to flash a crowd holding cell-phone cameras.
While her friends went crazy on the dance floor, she nursed a drink at the bar. All the men there must have sensed her dark mood, because they left her alone. Except for the bartender, Andre. She resisted his smile for as long as she could. But his dark brown eyes were kind, and he was so easy to talk to. Not once that night did he hit on her. So she hit on him instead.
He turned out to be as easy to talk to outside of a bar setting. It didn’t take long for them to be inseparable. Part of her missed having someone she could share intimate thoughts with. Another less cerebral part of her missed all the great sex she used to have.
Her body always hummed when they shared space. The low vibration that swept through her made concentrating on her sales demo challenging. Every time she spoke about a clit cream or bullet vibrator, she could imagine the two of them naked in bed trying out the products together. They had never used much more than water-based lube when they were dating. She’d been curious to try toys but had been too embarrassed to bring up the topic. Now she’d toss her favorite vibe on the bed and demand to use it together. What a long way she’d come!
But sex with Andre was a horrible idea right now. No, she needed to focus on winning. However, she couldn’t erase the image of the two of them playing with vibrators together. She needed to do something about it. Before she saw him in person.
Trixie reached into her nightstand and pulled out her Jack of All Trades. She’d bought herself one as a reward after her first successful sales show, though at the time she declared it was for research purposes.
Jack of All Trades was her top-selling product, even though it had been more than twenty years since Sex and the City made it popular. For good reason. She uncapped the base and slid two rechargeable batteries in. Batteries should never be left inside when they were not being used. They could leak and ruin a favorite toy.
Trixie hiked up her dress and sat in the armchair in her bedroom. Tucking the throw pillow behind her, she slid low into the chair. Her hips relaxed, she opened her legs wide and planted her feet on the carpet. She set Jack—as she liked to call it—on her lap. For now.
Closing her eyes, she caressed her breasts through the fabric of her dress. Shocks rippled down her stomach as her fingers skated over her nipples.
Trixie bit her lip as she pretended it was Andre touching her. A sigh fell from her lips as she imagined his soulful eyes looking deep into hers as his fingers skimmed her breasts, stomach, and thighs. Teasing her until her hips bucked. Beckoning him to touch the throbbing sensitive parts right where her thighs parted.
Picturing the dark brown of his hands on her tan thighs, she parted her outer lips. Her body shuddered as her fingers circled the most sensitive part of her. She gasped at how wet she already was. The light touch quickened as she pressed harder on her clit.
She slipped two fingers inside herself and pressed the larger pad of her thumb on her clit. Her breaths were shallow as jolts of pleasure shot through her body.
“Yes.” She sighed through her clenched teeth as the waves grew bigger and bigger. Now was the time for her toy.
Without opening her eyes, she picked up the toy from her lap. Deft fingers pressed the button. One, two, three times to her favorite vibrating setting: a pulsating buzz that grew faster into a crescendo, then repeated. Another press on a different button activated the pearls embedded in the lower part of the shaft, which also vibrated.
A deep moan escaped her throat as she imagined Andre’s hands sliding the shaft into her pussy. She guided his hand so the extension—shaped like a rabbit’s ears—wrapped around her throbbing clit.
Yes, babe. She heard his voice in her head. Come for me. You are so beautiful when you come.
She nodded weakly as Jack of All Trades stroked her. Slowly at first, so she could feel the beads rotate around her sensitive opening. Then deeper as she needed more. She tilted the base of the toy up slightly to press the rabbit ears harder against her clit. Her thumb fumbled as she pressed more buttons, turning up the intensity of the vibrations.
You’re so close. She imagined his hot breath on her ear. Wrap your hand around mine, and we can make you come together.
Trixie gripped the toy, imagining his hand under hers, and let her body take over. Stroking and vibrating. Her clit taking as much pleasure as the toy could give while the beads spun inside her. Her hips bucked as her body tensed—right on the edge.
Fuck, you are so hot right now, the pretend Andre spoke.
“Yes!” she screamed, as his hoarse voice pushed her over the edge. Her muscles clenched around the toy as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her. The powerful orgasm rocked her body and left her gasping for breath.
After a while, the still-vibrating toy became too much stimulation. She slid the toy out. Turning it off, she gently dropped it on the carpet.
Now that she was working for Bedroom Frenzy, she was no stranger to using toys on herself. But this time was different. She hadn’t fantasized about Andre in that way since they were dating. On the nights he worked late tending bar in the French Quarter, she’d get herself off. Then jump him when he walked in, skin and hair smelling of cigarette smoke and hurricanes.
Once her legs felt steady, she reassembled her clothes. Practicing what she preached, she removed the batteries from her Jack of All Trades and cleaned it off before returning it to her nightstand. The orgasm had left her more relaxed and ready for tonight’s pop-up.
No matter how good fantasy Andre was for her orgasms, she couldn’t afford to tangle with him again. She had an arsenal of vibrators to stave off any need for a hookup. She had to keep her eyes on the prize, and Andre was not that prize.
Trixie had finally found something she was good at, and she was determined to be the very best at it. Once that bonus check was in her hand, she could strike out on her own. Prove to her parents that she didn’t need multiple degrees to be successful.
Andre and his restaurant were just a means to an end, she reminded herself. They both knew what they were getting into with this partnership. All business. No feelings. Feelings just complicated things and made failure imminent. The last thing she wanted to do was admit to her parents that they were right. She couldn’t afford to fail this time.
Because if she did, Trixie had no idea what she’d do next.