Page 27 of Afternoon Delight

Meg

A thirty-something woman showed up a short time later. She wore a plain blue T-shirt, baggy jeans, and wire-rimmed glasses. Her dark brown hair was in a choppy faux-hawk.

“Good morning,” I greeted. “Just browsing? Or can I help you find something?”

“A little of both. I’m Mahathi.” Her words held the vaguest hint of an Indian accent. “I texted Georgia yesterday to ask how she was doing. She said she was having her surgery today, and I could check with you on how it goes. Are you Meg?”

“I am. It’s nice to meet you. It’ll be hours before we hear anything, but I can take your number and text you?”

“Sure.” She gave me her number, which I immediately texted:

Hi from Meg.

I added her name to my contacts. “Georgia and I are friends from high school.”

“I met her at a perimenopause workshop last year. She told me she was opening this store, and I’ve been meaning to drop by ever since. Then it closed, but I saw there would be a relaunch and missed that, too. I’m a bit of a shit friend,” she said, in a tone of discovery.

“Not really. You’re here now.”

“I guess. I really have been meaning to come in to see what she has.” She picked up a box and studied the photo of the dildo with the face strap.

“Tell me more about the perimenopause thing,” I invited. “Calling it a workshop makes it sound like you learned how to make your own tampons.”

“I actually did learn to make biodegradable pads from moss once. It takes you the entire month to collect enough, though. The perimenopause one was about as useful. Chew ice chips for hot flashes? Bitch, how do I make them stop ?”

“Oof. I was hoping you were going to say it was helpful. I’m coming up to forty and sometimes get night sweats.

” My periods were all over the place. I was planning to see my doctor as soon as I got back to Toronto.

“Georgia told me she was planning to offer workshops in the evenings here, to get people in the door. That would be a good one, wouldn’t it? ”

“I’ve actually found a really good specialist.” Mahathi tested the flexibility on a displayed dildo.

“I had a full hysterectomy two years ago and went into hard menopause overnight. The hot flashes were killing me. Now I’m on hormone replacement and starting to feel like I want to do this again.

” She tapped the package of a bright blue double-ended dildo.

“Let me share the contact for the clinic. I don’t know if they do presentations, but it’s worth asking.

” She brought out her phone, and a contact appeared under my text to her.

“Thanks.”

There was a flicker of changing light at the window. I glanced up to see Zak. He waved, and I waved back. Mahathi noticed.

“That’s my neighbor.” I pointed toward Twice is Nice.

“He comes over to chat when he’s bored, but he doesn’t intrude if I’m with a customer.

Oh, I took that one home the other day,” I said, as Mahathi picked up the clit stimulator.

“Not that one, obviously,” I joked. “I bought one of my own.” Actually, Zak had bought it, but, “I like it. I want to try this one next. It’s bendy. ”

I showed her the palm-sized vibrator that could be cupped against the vulva while cycling through different speeds and patterns.

“Some of these have apps or you can pair them with your smartwatch,” I murmured, as I read the back of the box for all its features.

“At first, I thought the apps were a gimmick, but now I see how convenient it can be. On the other hand, make up your mind and live with it, or you’ll have lube all over your phone. ”

“I hate when that happens. I’ll probably get this one,” she said, handing me the bendy vibrator. “But I’ll browse a little longer.”

I set it on the cash desk. “We also have lube for post-menopausal vaginas. You can use this one for anal, too. This one’s organic.” I pointed them out.

Another customer came in, and I chimed out, “Good morning. Oh, hi,” I added, with more warmth, as I recognized one of the shop’s regulars.

I didn’t know her name, but she usually wore thigh-high boots and a raincoat—with, I was pretty sure, nothing underneath. She was always turned out with smoky eyes, red lips, and always made a bee-line to the kinkiest toys: whips, nipple clamps, ball gags.

Today, she wore slim-fit black trousers, a white blouse, suspenders, and a tie. Her black hair was tucked beneath a motorcycle cap.

“Are you Meg?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Domino.” She stepped forward and gave my hand a firm shake. “I was speaking with Georgia the other day. She said you’d know how her surgery is going?”

“No word yet, but I’m taking numbers. I’ll send updates when I hear anything.”

“Thank you.” She gave me her number, then pointed at the credenza. “That’s new. Mind if I take a look?”

“Help yourself. There are tapes underneath if you don’t see an album you like.” The LPs were in a wire stand Zak had sold me for five dollars and a cup of coffee.

Mahathi wandered over to browse the records and tapes, too.

Domino put on Chicago, and we chatted about incidentals—when spring might properly arrive, who had lived here longest, and which yoga studio we’d use if we ever actually went to yoga.

I told them I was staying as long as Georgia needed, then planned to take my son back to Toronto.

Mahathi had just put on Billy Preston singing You Are So Beautiful when Negasi walked in with a dozen donuts. He’d changed into moss-green joggers and a casual yellow pullover, though smudges of makeup still lingered on his face.

“How’d it go?” I asked.

“Good.” He nodded. “I promised some friends that if they came in to buy something, I’d give them a donut. Gotta help our girl, right?”

“Great idea. Let me see if some of my clients will place some online orders.” Domino pulled out her phone.

“Give me five minutes, and I’ll set up a discount code,” I said, leaping on the idea.

Ten minutes later, while Eric Clapton’s Wonderful Tonight was asking if we felt all right, we blasted our contact lists with the 4GEORGIA coupon code.

“Help yourself,” Negasi then invited, opening the box of donuts. “How do you all know Georgia?”

Domino had been a regular in the shop since it opened. She lived not far from here and had connected Georgia with artisans who made the custom floggers and paddles.

Negasi explained he had met Georgia when they were both working on the cruise ship circuit. “After that, I got her some session work in California, and she’s the one who told me the theatre here was looking for acts—Is someone knocking?” He looked at me.

“I heard that, too.” I moved into the stock room, puzzled because there was a buzzer for the receiving bay. This was the door to my stock room. I opened it, expecting Zak or maybe a confused Dale.

It was a stocky man of mixed race, with heavy, sunken eyes. His clothes were an upscale button-down and nice khakis with a pair of tan brogues, all wrinkly—as though he’d put on yesterday’s clothes or slept in them.

“I’m Bruno. I live upstairs.” He pointed at the mysterious door that I had presumed led to the upstairs apartments, but I had never seen anyone use.

“Is the music bothering you?” I kept the volume pretty low.

“No, I’m wondering if you know how Georgia’s doing?”

“Oh. Um, I don’t have news yet, but I can take your number and let you know.”

He looked past me as he heard a burst of laughter from the group.

Mom’s ingrained manners had me saying, “Some of her friends are waiting with me. You’re welcome to join us, but we’re all just standing around. It will be hours.”

“I have folding chairs. I’ll get them.” He went through the door to the stairs before I could say anything else.

Bemused, I left the stockroom door ajar and went back to the shop.

“Bruno will be joining us,” I informed everyone.

“Who’s Bruno?” Mahathi asked.

“That’s what we’re going to find out.” I lifted meaningful brows. “He’s worried enough about Georgia that he would like to wait with us.”

Everyone made “oohs” of speculation.

Bruno came back and nodded self-consciously as I made hasty introductions.

I locked up behind him and brought the paint-spattered chair from the storage room into the shop. I added the stool from behind the desk.

“If my mother shows up and sees those donuts dropping icing sugar on her credenza, we are all going to be grounded for a week.” I texted Zak to ask if he had a small coffee table we could borrow. And maybe a couple of chairs?

Moments later, he showed up with an oval coffee table, then made a quick trip for a pair of dining room chairs, their backs carved in spirals and their seats upholstered in leather.

“If you’re starting a band, I play cowbell. If you’re hosting a séance, I have a bone to pick with my third-grade teacher,” Zak said.

“Called you Zara one too many times?” I guessed.

“Wouldn’t let me play cowbell.”

“Can’t imagine why not. Sadly, you can’t settle that grudge today. We’re waiting for news about Georgia.” I introduced everyone, ending with, “And you might know Bruno? He lives upstairs.”

“We haven’t actually met.” They shook hands. “You work nights, right?”

“Campus security, yeah. I used to see Georgia when she was still at the bar. One day she said she was leaving to open her own business. It took me three weeks to realize it was under my bed.”

Everyone laughed, while Bruno yawned.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to have to get some coffee. It’s my day off, but I don’t usually get up this early.”

“I’ll buy a round,” Zak offered. “Meg can text me the orders while I stand in line.”

“He doesn’t have to do that,” Mahathi said, watching Zak through the window as he went across the street without his coat, ignoring the spitting rain.

“He has his own stuff going on. He knows it’s the little things that help.

” I sat down cross-legged on a chair and started texting orders.

Then I told Zak what Mahathi had said about not having to buy coffee.

“He says he’s filling up his loyalty card so he can get a free one for himself,” I relayed.

“I need one of those for this place,” Domino joked.

“That’s actually a good idea.” I texted Zak my own order, then rose to find my notebook.

“I’ve been trying to think of ways to increase traffic without going broke on ads.

Georgia was already planning to host info sessions here.

What do you think of book clubs? We don’t have room for more than eight or ten people.

” I eyed the way we’d bunched the chairs and considered how I could move things around for a more practical configuration.

“I have a BDSM presentation,” Domino offered.

“It’s best with a small group. Two one-hour sessions.

The first is an introduction, then a follow-up to talk about what they tried.

I charge two hundred a person. If they’re a couple or a thruple, I take fifty off the second and third registrations.

Georgia and I talked about my doing it here, but we hadn’t settled on a date before she had to close. ”

“Let’s try to book that soon, while I’ve got all these new subscribers. It’s okay for beginners?”

“And just curious, yes. I talk about how to negotiate a scene and other safety precautions. If you want higher level, I have one for sex workers and I have a friend who teaches Shibari.”

“Cool.” I wrote those down. “I was also thinking about something for seniors. My mom is a widow, hasn’t dated since before she married my dad. She doesn’t know what she wants or where to start with all this stuff.” I circled my pen to indicate the toys.

“I know a disability consultant—which isn’t what you’re saying, but she might know someone who specializes in sexual health for seniors.” Mahathi scrolled through her contacts.

“Thanks.” That also reminded me that I’d been meaning to ask Zak if he could make the store more accessible, in case Georgia couldn’t walk after today.

A pang of fear hit my chest, but I didn’t say anything aloud—only scribbled a note to myself.

“Hair and makeup tips for my trans sisters,” Negasi said.

“Great idea. And altering clothes, maybe?” I suggested.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Sweet.” I wrote it down. “Bruno? Any suggestions?”

“Hm?” He picked up his sleepy head. “Oh, I just want my girl on her feet and doing well. Then maybe she’ll feel up to going on a proper date.”

“Amen,” Negasi murmured, while the rest of us nodded solemnly.