We’d had dinner and some drinking somewhere nearby and decided on the coldish night to walk back to the apartment. The troupe included myself, the One, the Irish, and the Apprentice. The boys were walking a bit faster than the girls, and we decided to let them, agreeing to meet up back at the apartment at some point in the future.
As we walked we talked about getting a bottle of wine, but much to our disenchantment we couldn’t find anything that resembled drinkable wine in the shops on the way home. As we walked I asked the One if she was ready to go home yet.
“What do you have in mind?”
“A wander. Also, I’ve been wanting to check out that sex shop near your place if you’re interested.”
“There is a sex shop near my place?”
“Yes. Yes, there is.”
“That would be fun.”
“Just as long as you promise never to go in there without me.” I said.
This is when I explained that in her neighborhood—and with her insanely good looks—going in there by her lonesome would be a no-no. One, men would look at her lasciviously, two, they would probably think she was a prostitute, and three, that was not baggage she wanted to have nearby her house. In agreement we turned down the street to the sex shop.
On the way we found a furniture stop. In the window, gleaming like a beacon from heaven was a wooden folding table that reminded me of one I had very long ago.
“You must buy that table.” I determined. Or I would buy it for her, because a table was always useful when you needed it and never a waste of time or money. I went in and haggled with the shop owner for a bit and in the end it resulted in having a large wooden folding table.
This, however, did not distract us from the original goal of going to a sex shop. So we took turns carrying the table down the street, and into the sliding door of the Korean love shop.
When we walked in the proprietor was talking with another Korean gentleman, who looked about ready to swallow his tongue at the sight of us. Granted we must have been confusing, walking in with a table between us and setting it down in the corner. We did look a bit like we were about to set up shop ourselves. The poor guy stumbled and sputtered and mumbled before eventually getting out as quickly as possible after arranging to come back later to get his pleasurable body segment of a love doll. (I did not indicate that I understood what he was saying, but I totally understood what he was saying.)
After he left the One and I wandered about the tiny place looking at what was for sale. This one was slightly more modern than the tiny little sex shop that I had visited once upon an age ago. It had dildos and bullet vibes, and we even found a little cleverly disguised lipstick vibrator that amused the One to no end. Then we stumbled upon the flavored lubes.
“They have cherry.” I pointed out.
“But what? They have cherry.”
“Yes, but it’s not my cherry.”
This discussion continued for a while as we checked out the different flavors that included vanilla and also pineapple which seemed to achieve a level of wrong I found difficult to put into words. In the end, while the shiny plastic accessories were exciting, nothing inspired a deep enough passion for us to desire parting with 50,000 won, which seemed to be the bargain-basement price the shop owner was willing to let merchandise his merchandise go for. I’m sure he did a lot of business at those rates.
After a few more minutes of browsing we finally picked up our table and left. The shop owner watched us walk down the street, carrying our table between us, chattering, and shifting it from hand to hand as we pushed it up the mountain toward home.