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But Chloë shook her head.

“No, no, no, Miss Banks. I said ‘aroused’ not ‘satisfied.’”

“One won’t satisfy me,” Morgan stated in a pleading tone. This was true. Ever since Chloë became her sex life, Morgan’s idea of “satisfied” had certainly changed.

“I will let you come so many times tonight, I promise,” Chloë said soothingly.

“This is a really great tradition,” Morgan mewled, feeling more of her arousal escape her pussy to drip down towards her ass. Thank goodness her skirt was black but even so Morgan wondered if there was going to be a visible damp spot on the back of it. However, with Chloë’s expert fingers having fun between her legs, she just didn’t care.

“I might have been lying about the tradition part,” Chloë said, giggling.

“Fine by me,” Morgan sighed.

But a few minutes later, Morgan felt the car slow, turn and pull into a parking lot. She groaned in disappointment.

“Why couldn’t you have picked a sex shop in San Diego?” she asked when Chloë took her hand away, for good this time, as the blonde parked the car. Morgan reluctantly returned her seat to the upright position to see where they were.

Ahead of the car was a small pink building that was on a side street just off the main drag, and there was only one other car in the parking lot. With the exception of its color, the building was fairly non-descript, with only the name, Cupid’s Playthings, spelled out in illuminated lettering above the door.

As she stepped out of the Jetta into the early evening, putting on her face mask as she did so, Morgan suddenly felt self-conscious and exposed.

Shit!

Did any of her students hang out in Del Mar? Did any of her colleagues at the school live in Del Mar? What if someone from the school saw her, a respectable private school literature teacher who was also now interim head of the department, about to walk into an establishment that could only possibly be a sex shop? And with a former student?

Fuck, where did Dr. Kenworthy live? Morgan wracked her brain, trying to remember, her rising panic causing her mind to only imagine him telling her that not only did he live in Del Mar but that he also shopped at the corner market Morgan noticed across the street from Cupid’s Playthings and ate sushi at this time every day at the restaurant next door to the very sex shop whose parking lot she was now standing in.

She quickly rummaged through her purse until she found her sunglasses and put them on along with her face mask.

“Let’s get inside,” she said to Chloë.

Chloë, putting her own face mask on, said, “Eager?”

“Definitely!” Morgan answered. “You’re the one who got me properly worked up, after all,” she added, taking Chloë’s hand while keeping her head low as they walked to the entrance.

Morgan gasped as soon as she entered the shop.

Expecting to find herself in a dimly lit establishment, perhaps with sticky floors and pervy men, she was delighted to find herself inside a shop that was bright and clean and colorful. So very, very colorful! Morgan was feeling a bit of sensory overload, quite frankly. She had to clench her hands at her sides to keep from running amok and touching everything.

“Hi! Welcome in!” a slender, middle-aged woman wearing a floral print face mask and purple-framed glasses said from behind the counter. “Let us know if you have any questions.”

“I will, thanks,” she was barely able to say, feeling a brief moment of clammy fear when she spotted two other customers in the store, both young women who looked like they could be in high school or not far past it; but she was able to quickly determine that, no, she’d never seen them at Barrington Woods before.

She felt Chloë at her side.

“Where do you want to start?” her girlfriend asked.

Morgan had no idea but after a moment’s consideration, she remembered thinking the other day how she was kind of missing penetrative sex. She hadn’t told Chloë that and she certainly wasn’t missing it enough to reconsider her current banishment of men from her bedroom, but it would be nice to once again feel something more substantial inside her during sex than fingers.

“Well…um…well, I think I’d, um, like to look at, you know…the things.”

Chloë looked blankly at her.

“There’s a lot of things in here, Miss Banks.”

Morgan felt her face turning beet red.

“You know, the…dildos,” she said, whispering the last word as if it were a state secret.