He’d found the old coupons in the back corner of the dresser downstairs, forgotten since he’d moved in last winter. They were in a box, crumpled with takeout receipts and a chain of long-expired condoms and a half-finished bag of sour cherry candies, each one as hard as a rock. He’d held them up to the light, squinting at the tiny white text declaring they were still valid, mercifully, for another six months. Good enough.
He makes enough to feed and house the four of them, but every bit counts.
Satisfied, Clive tromps back up the stairs, coupon folded and tucked into his back pocket. He fetches Jill –– “ready?” –– and off they go, into a cab across town. He doesn’t make eye-contact with the driver as he gets out, rounds the car, and then opens the other door for Jill. It’s not anyone’s business what they buy, he assures himself.
“I don’t know why this is more embarrassing than the club,” he murmurs, offering his hand to help her out.
"It really shouldn't be," Jill agrees with a tiny, gleeful giggle as she takes Clive's arm. It's another new thing in a city where such shops are rather normal. And while she never thought she'd be here with Clive, she never imagined herself going to the clubs, either. Life is full of surprises.
"As long as we don't encounter Joshua or Dion, we're simply..." Well, now she's made herself worry, and she scrunches her nose before glancing up and down the street. "Nevermind. Let's go, Clive."
Her arm is soothing, nestled in the crook of his, and he squeezes her to his side. It’s protective, but it’s nice to feel the length of her body tight against his, too.
“Don’t even speak their names,” he says, joking weakly, and he hurries them along and opens the door. As far as sex shops go, he supposes this will be relatively normal, but even so, he’s surprised by how deep it seems to go into the building.
He jokes, and she laughs into his arm, but a part of her truly worries one or both of them will suddenly appear. It's a relief to step into the shop, and as Jill's eyes adjust to the dimmer lighting, they widen.
"I've never seen so many different colors," she says, and her gaze is on an end cap of dildos. Neon colors, clear, rainbow. Nevermind the sizes and textures. Jill's already distracted, letting go of Clive's arm to go examine one. It's clear, tinted with purple and blue.
She turns back to Clive with it in her hands, a smile on her face. This is so silly. Yet fun.
“I don’t think I’d ever considered they could be,” he replies, politely looking away at the sight of her holding up a phallic object under what must be a million lights. Yet it doesn’t matter where he looks, not when his gaze falls on all manners of cocks. “It’s your colour.”
Her smile widens. She thinks his cock is pretty, but she can already hear the if you think so from him. Jill sets the dildo down before taking Clive's arm once more.
"I suppose we can skip this section. No need for these when I have you," she teases.
“I thought perhaps you’d want company while I’m out hunting,” he says, but he’s not-so-secretly pleased, his hand clasping over hers. “But yes, I believe we have a specific errand.”
Clive gives a quiet rumble of acknowledgement, briefly closing his eyes and smiling.
“Founder, I hope so,” he says, willing himself not to think about it too much. He could salivate like a dog if he let himself. “I want to be under you for hours…”
"Hence our quest," she reminds him with a fond hug of his arm. "You may be the end of me, but you seem sure it's what you want..."
Such torture, to be wanted so desperately. She tugs him along a little quicker, but her eyes are constantly darting over to this and that. If he can spend hours under her, she could spend hours here, finding curious new things to try.
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Sex Shop
He makes enough to feed and house the four of them, but every bit counts.
Satisfied, Clive tromps back up the stairs, coupon folded and tucked into his back pocket. He fetches Jill –– “ready?” –– and off they go, into a cab across town. He doesn’t make eye-contact with the driver as he gets out, rounds the car, and then opens the other door for Jill. It’s not anyone’s business what they buy, he assures himself.
“I don’t know why this is more embarrassing than the club,” he murmurs, offering his hand to help her out.
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"As long as we don't encounter Joshua or Dion, we're simply..." Well, now she's made herself worry, and she scrunches her nose before glancing up and down the street. "Nevermind. Let's go, Clive."
Before they're seen.
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“Don’t even speak their names,” he says, joking weakly, and he hurries them along and opens the door. As far as sex shops go, he supposes this will be relatively normal, but even so, he’s surprised by how deep it seems to go into the building.
Who needs this many toys?
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"I've never seen so many different colors," she says, and her gaze is on an end cap of dildos. Neon colors, clear, rainbow. Nevermind the sizes and textures. Jill's already distracted, letting go of Clive's arm to go examine one. It's clear, tinted with purple and blue.
She turns back to Clive with it in her hands, a smile on her face. This is so silly. Yet fun.
"It's pretty, isn't it?"
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"I suppose we can skip this section. No need for these when I have you," she teases.
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"It's rather hard to miss... it feels like it'd be somewhere on the edges of the shop."
How terrible, they'll have to take a stroll and see.
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Her hand is warm under his, and he casts his gaze around, looking for where to start. There’s facsimile dicks and images of naked people everywhere.
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"I wonder if the club purchases their supplies from here," she muses aloud as they begin to wander. Lube of every flavor exists, it seems.
"You've surprised me with wanting to come here, Clive."
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He follows behind her, attention still drifting. His ears go a little red at her surprise, though.
“I thought you might like it.”
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He could will himself to like anything she likes.
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"Don't worry. Even if we don't take it home with us, you'll still end up where you're meant to be by the end of the night."
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“Founder, I hope so,” he says, willing himself not to think about it too much. He could salivate like a dog if he let himself. “I want to be under you for hours…”
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Such torture, to be wanted so desperately. She tugs him along a little quicker, but her eyes are constantly darting over to this and that. If he can spend hours under her, she could spend hours here, finding curious new things to try.
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“I’m very sure, I assure you,” he says. “And perhaps there’s something here you would want…”
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She's trying so hard not to get distracted.
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"Well, I've wondered how to bring it up with you," she teases. "Kind of you to save me the hassle, Clive."
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"You'll have to study the mirror to learn what is handsome to me."
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“Dark hair, I think,” he says. “On the shorter side.”
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A wall of gags and blindfolds really doesn't suit the tone, but she only flicks her gaze to them once before smiling up at Clive.
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“That should narrow it down,” he says. “I’m sure I could find someone who suits that description.”
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