Full Service (A Pleasure Chest Story)

by Penny Wylder

  Full Service

  Penny Wylder

  Contents

  Books By Penny Wylder

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Lip Service

  Books By Penny Wylder

  Filthy Boss

  Her Dad’s Friend

  Rockstars F#*k Harder

  The Virgin Intern

  Her Dirty Professor

  The Pool Boy

  Get Me Off

  Caught Together

  Selling Out to the Billionaire

  Falling for the Babysitter

  Lip Service

  Copyright © 2017 by Penny Wylder

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  1

  I take a steadying breath as I rearrange the display. I’ve practically been vibrating all day, a combination of first day jitters and excitement. I honestly never thought that I’d work at a sex toy store, but after months of job searching and coming dangerously close to the end of my savings, working here feels like a dream. Plus, everyone here has been amazing. It’s only been a day and I think that for the first time I might actually have friends at work.

  I’m cleaning out one of the mirrored display cases, rearranging a display of glass dildos. Another benefit of working here—I get to encounter things I’ve never even heard of before, let alone considered trying. It gives me the chance to research a bunch of new things.

  I’ve always loved researching, learning things just because I could. Curiosity is the only gift my dad gave me before he decided his own research in Peru was more important than me or my mother. But that love of learning landed with me with degrees that weren’t…marketable, in the traditional sense, and a scarily large mountain of debt. Still, I wouldn’t trade those years I spent learning for anything.

  The past few days since I got the job I’ve been pouring over everything I can find out about Pleasure Chest, from the company history to learning all about the merchandise they sell. Given just how many toys they do sell it’s going to take me awhile, but I’m up for the challenge.

  I finish polishing a light pink glass dildo—it’s intriguing, heavy with spiraled ridges running along its length. Not something I’ve ever tried. But most things in this store are things that I’ve never tried.

  “Excuse me,” a deep voice says from behind me, “I was wondering if you could tell me about this product?”

  I startle, lost in my own thoughts, and nearly knock over the whole display I just finished rearranging. I’m lucky that didn’t happen. I don’t want to be the girl who broke twelve glass dildos on her first day. I put down the toy and turn around, and I freeze. The man attached to the voice is gorgeous. I think my heart may have just skipped a beat in shock, and I also think I might be drooling.

  My eyes follow the line of his body up, drinking him in. He’s wearing dark jeans that I can tell are hugging his ass in a way that would make any woman want to take a bite out of him. There’s a pale blue henly shirt that’s tight through the chest and shoulders, showing off a body that he’s clearly worked for, with the sleeves pushed up just enough to show off amazing forearms and the hint of tattoos. I don’t think I’ve ever been turned on by forearms before, but there’s a first time for everything.

  As I reach his face—stunning green eyes framed by dark hair—he smiles, and I realize that I’ve been doing nothing but staring at him for at least a full minute. “What?” I say. “I mean—excuse me?”

  He laughs softly, lifting the box he’s holding. “I asked if you could tell me about this.”

  It takes an effort to take my eyes off him, but I do, focusing on the label. He’s holding a small box with a purple toy, the Lelo Gigi. Crap. I’ve seen it, but it’s one of the toys that I haven’t had a chance to fully research yet. I take the box from him, flipping it over. I can do this. I don’t care if it’s my first day, I want to make a good impression on the managers. I probably won’t do that if I can’t even help a customer by telling him how a toy works.

  I scan the back of the box, figuring out the selling points. “This is the Lelo Gigi. They’re a good brand—all of their toys are really high quality. And this one,” I give the box another once over, “I guess it has a way of unlocking a woman’s G-spot.” I press my lips together, trying not to giggle about the fact that I have to say things like ‘G-spot’ out loud at this job.

  But he doesn’t seem to find it funny. His face is intense as he studies me. “You guess?”

  “I mean, I haven’t used it personally.”

  The smile on his face suddenly has a wicked edge, and my stomach does a little flip. Nerves, that’s all it is, or the fact that I probably had too much for lunch. In no way can a stranger’s smile make my stomach do that. “Well,” he says, crossing his arms, “I can’t buy it if I don’t know anything about it. I’m also not a woman. Do you see my problem?”

  I do. I also see the strip of skin that was revealed when his crossed arms pulled up his shirt. It’s smooth and perfect and I’m having a hard time focusing on not touching it.

  Focus Kara. This is your job. You have to be professional, not a horny teenager. Focus. I put on my best customer service smile, “I understand, sir—”

  He releases a sharp breath when I address him, like he wasn’t expecting it. My stomach did another lurch with that sound, like my body already likes that it surprised him. I continue, “but I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.”

  “I want you to be good at your job,” he says, taking a step towards me. “I want to know everything about this toy, and I want to hear it from you.” His mouth quirks up into a smile. “After all, you are the expert.”

  He hands me the toy, and his fingers brush mine. Even that little touch of skin sends a spark through me, landing between my legs and making me wet. What on earth is wrong with me that he’s affecting me like this?

  “The next time I see you,” he says, “I hope you can tell me more about it than just what’s on the box.”

  He gives me a final grin and heads towards the door. He’s halfway there when I look down and see the two hundred-dollar bills he tucked into my hand along with the box. “Hey, wait!” But when I look up he’s already gone.

  He’s given me more than enough money to buy this toy. Is he serious? He wants me to buy it, use it, and report back? Certainly not what I expected today. Then again, I’m not sure if there can be expectations when you work in a store like this. I mean, I was planning to buy some things to try, but not like this. There’s a nagging feeling inside my chest—I don’t want him to be disappointed the next time I see him. And really, what’s the harm? If he wants to buy a toy for a stranger, that’s his business.

  I take they toy over to the register and ring it up. Just as I’m about to open the drawer, Ella comes out of the back. I blush, immediately regretting buying this now and not at the end of my shift. It’s probably not great for us to buy things in the middle of the day, or to ring ourselves up. She comes up to counter, checking out the toy I’ve left there, and starts typing something into the register. “I’m sorry,” I say, “I was just going to buy it and put it in my
locker. Probably should have waited till later.”

  She gives me a look. “Girl, please. We do this all the time. But your employee code hasn’t kicked in yet, has it? I’m going to let you use mine. Besides,” her smile is conspiratorial, “I have that one in blue, and I totally approve.”

  Relief shoots through me as she prints out my receipt and hands me my change. “Thanks.”

  I knew I was going to be researching more toys tonight, but I didn’t think there would be a practical aspect to it. I think about the man—I don’t even know his name—and my body remembers the way he was looking at me. The way I got wet just at the touch of his fingers. Tonight will be interesting.

  2

  I can’t get my shoes off fast enough when I get home. That’s going to be priority number one—research and find the most comfortable work shoes. I haven’t had a job where I stand as much as this one, and my feet are already feeling the pain. I stretch my toes as I hang up my keys and head into the kitchen, placing my bag from the store on the counter. First things first, I need food. And wine. I bought a cheap bottle of wine last week to celebrate my first day, and now I open it. It’s just as terrible as I expect, given the amount of money that I paid for it, but it’s still a victory and I smile as I slip a frozen dinner into the microwave and collapse onto the couch.

  I have a job. It feels really good to say that again. I feel like I can relax for the first time in months, knowing that I won’t have to move or be evicted.

  After I pull my food out of the microwave, I power up my laptop and start doing some research. I need to research some toys, and…that particular toy. It’s sitting on the counter, and even though I’ve tried to ignore it, I’ve been aware of it ever since I got home. Almost like it’s taunting me, daring me to try it.

  The toy itself is pretty straight forward, according to the website. A vibrator designed to massage the female G-spot, with multiple vibration speeds and patterns. It’s silicon and comes in a variety of colors. Of course, I could read all of that on the box. The mystery man said he wanted more than what he could read on the box, and I blush thinking about the way he looked at me when he said it.

  I switch research topics, trying to avoid how that memory makes me feel. Instead I turn to researching the actual G-spot. Something I find is contested among scientists. There’s no consensus about whether it exists, but there are more studies under way. I research the anatomy, where the G-spot is located and how it’s accessed. I look up where it’s supposed to be and where to access it. Something I never knew, it’s named after the German gynecologist Ernst Gräfenberg. I had never even thought about why it was called the G-spot. Granted, I haven’t really had a chance to think about it. I’ve never tried to reach my G-spot, and none of my few-and-far-between sexual partners has ever attempted.

  But one of the reasons I took this job was so that I could be open to more things—especially in the realm of sex. This would be the perfect opportunity to do that. But still, there’s a knot of nerves in the pit of my stomach that makes me hesitate. I finish my food, and as I’m clearing my dishes, I pick up the box. Opening it doesn’t mean I’ll use it. Not yet anyway. But I want to take a look at it.

  The packaging is solid and beautiful, and I feel a little thrill as I open it. The toy is even smaller than it appears in the box, so compact it’s almost cute. The feel of the silicon is soft under my fingers, and it makes me wonder what it would feel like elsewhere on my skin, what it would feel like inside. I rub my thumb over the head of the toy, clicking on the vibrations. The vibration is smooth and steady, and I click through the patterns, enjoying the variety. The sensation runs across my skin and down between my legs and I feel myself getting wet the same way I did in the store today.

  I want to try this, but I still have that little bunch of nerves. Am I really going to do this? Cater to the whim of a complete stranger to use a sex toy? A completely hot stranger who makes my body come alive with a single touch? There’s something exciting about it, not knowing who he is or why he wants me to do this. I can’t stop thinking about the tone of his voice, and the way he told me he wanted to know everything about the little toy in front of me. Before I register what my body is doing, I’m walking into my bedroom, stripping my clothes off as I go. For the millionth time I’m glad that I choose to live alone, and that I’m lucky enough to have found this apartment—tiny as it is—for a decent price.

  I’ve been so stressed about money and job hunting that it’s been more than a while since I’ve masturbated, and all that dormant desire rushes to the surface as I shed the rest of my clothes and search my underwear drawer for my bottle of lube. Despite the fact that my body wants this more than anything, I’m still nervous. What if the toy doesn’t work for me the way it’s supposed to? What if I can’t actually find my G-spot with it? Vaginal orgasms haven’t happened a lot for me, and I’m a bit skeptical that a toy could magically change that.

  My mind flies to the way the man in blue responded when I called him sir, like he was stunned, and it was unexpected. Like he loved it. I find myself wanting to please him, and with that feeling my body becomes even more aroused. I’m already so wet that I don’t need the lube, and the toy slips in easily. It goes in smoothly, settling naturally inside and pressing that area that is supposed to be the magical spot.

  I turn the vibrations on, and immediately gasp. These vibrations don’t feel like a normal toy. These are targeted, and the short length of the toy makes it an entirely different experience. I let the Gigi vibrate for a few seconds, reveling in the strange new feeling. But I hear a voice in my head, ‘I want to know everything about this toy’ and I know I have to try everything. I click through the patterns—some more subtle than others—and experiment with the vibration speeds. I image the mysterious man in blue is here, telling me to make sure I try everything, and a spike of pleasure goes through me.

  I come across a pattern that reminds me of morse code, three short vibrations and one long, and it brings out something different. I pull on the toy, forcing it against my supposed G-spot, and I definitely feel something. I repeat the motion, pushing the Gigi back and forth against the wall of my pussy, and my eyes flutter closed as small ripples of pleasure start to emanate from that spot. What would he tell me to do, if he were here? Would he tell me to move faster? I move faster, wrapping my fist around the handle so I can pull on it harder.

  It’s a slow and steady build, each stroke against my G-spot expanding on the last one so it feels better, more vibrant. I find myself pushing my legs wider, pressing the toy harder against me in search of my orgasm. Holy shit. I’m going to come, and I haven’t even touched my clit. My back arches and I let out a moan. I imagine him watching me, that hungry look in his eyes, that small smile on his lips as I get myself off in front of him—for him.

  He crosses his arms, and I feel the challenge in the air, the challenge to come while thinking about him. I flick the vibrations to a higher speed, and my body freezes. My muscles lock down as my orgasm bursts through me, sweet and bright, and entirely delicious. My pussy clenches around the toy, forcing it back onto my G-spot and making me shudder. I pull it out, letting the vibrations run as I use it to tease my clit. I hadn’t even touched it but it’s hypersensitive. The man is in my head, watching, no longer smiling. I hear that deep voice of his as if he’s in the room with me, telling me what to do. One orgasm isn’t enough. I want you to do your job. Come again, just for me. I imagine that his breath is just a little bit ragged, that he’s touching himself too, stroking his cock which he watches me get off on his words.

  I use the flat head of the Gigi to tease myself, and another orgasm follows on the heels of the first, this one bursting outward from my clit and making me cry out. Somewhere in my head I see the man smiling that wicked smile at me, and I feel a rush of approval. I know the next time I see him he won’t be disappointed, and there’s a heady power in that knowledge.

  I click off the toy, letting my breathing return to its normal pace
. Damn.

  Well, I guess that I do have a G-spot. And you can bet that I’ll be using that toy again. For sure.

  I manage to get out of bed to wash the toy, even though that exquisite relaxation that follows a really great orgasm is spreading through my body. By the time I climb back into bed my eyes are already closing. I don’t bother to put on pajamas, enjoying the feeling of the sheets on my skin and the images of the man in my mind.

  3

  Today everything seems brighter. The customers have been friendly, and work has been fun. Even the music on the radio has me in a good mood. I may or may not have been dancing while cleaning some of the displays. I’m trying to tell myself that I’m just in a good mood—that it’s because I finally have a job and things are looking up in my life. I tell myself it’s definitely not because I met a hot-as-fuck stranger yesterday. I tell myself it’s not because I had two amazing orgasms last night after a dry spell that’s longer than I like to admit. But even though I tell myself it’s not those things, I know that I’m kidding myself.

  I’m in the middle of checking the bondage gear for clearance prices, and dancing to a 90s song, when I hear Ella laughing behind me. “There must be something in the air today. You’re practically bouncing.”

  I gesture towards the door. “Haven’t you seen? It’s a beautiful day.”

  “It is. But I don’t think the weather has anything to do with the fact that you’re glowing like a freaking lamp.” A blush rushes to my face, and her grin splits wider as she sees that she’s right. “See? I told you. Spill.”

  I open my mouth to make up some excuse, when I hear the door open. I turn, and I swear my heart tries to jump out of my chest. Because it’s him. My mouth is still open, and I manage to shut it before his gaze lands on me. He smiles in that way that’s haunted my thoughts, and Ella laughs under her breath. “Damn girl. Now I see why you’re so happy.”