Christmas Eve Crisis

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His voice sounded nervous over the line. “Can I swing past your house in a few minutes? I need some toys.”

“Right now?” I was at that very moment bagging apples at the grocery store.

“As soon as possible,” he answered.

“What’s the rush? Do you have a date this afternoon? On Christmas Eve?”

As a matter of fact he did, so as soon as I’d paid the bill I zipped home and began rummaging through my toy box. The call had been brief enough and the store loud enough with last-minute shoppers and blaring carols that I could only guess what sort of toys his beloved would find most enticing.

When he arrived (looking ever so slightly harried) he examined a dozen or so glass, silicone and buzzy items marching across the closed washer lid. He choose a handful of likely candidates then joined me for a few minutes of conversation during which I inquired about his plans for the rest of the day. They included a nice dinner out, the wearing of a Sexy Christmas Elf costume, some porn and the judicious application of the aforementioned toys. In due time I wished him luck and sent him off to the assignation.

In an email a few days later he thanked me for the visit and the toys. The visit went well, he said. The toys were a huge hit, and in a paragraph or two of heated text he let me know the exact magnitude of their success.

Wow, I thought, I’ve become the person other people come to for sex toys before dates and to debrief after dates.

And that works just fine for me.