Love Over the Counter

Tony Bianchi sat nervously in the small waiting room of the Lovers Bookshop headquarters, although he felt the word ‘headquarters’ was somewhat of an overstatement. The office slash waiting room was no more than a pre-fabricated lean-to tacked onto the side of a moderately large, corrugated tin warehouse.

What am I doing here?he asked himself; his fingers drumming the cushioned armrest. What are my friends going to say? Not one of the best ideas I’ve had. I should split while I’ve got the chance.

He was about to do just that when the door opened.

A man of about forty, with sandy blonde hair and a deep tan, leaned out.

“Are you Tony Bianchi?”

Tony stood up. “Yes, I am.”

The man looked him up and down. “Come in,” he said, before disappearing back into his office.

Tony entered the cramped office and shut the door behind him.

“Have a seat,” said the man. He kept his eyes on Tony as he walked behind the desk and sat down. “I’m Denis Foster, managing director of Lovers Bookshops.” He sat back in his chair. His eyes, green and cold and staring, were riveted on Tony, boring into him and making him squirm beneath their gaze. “So you’re a uni student. Twenty years old. Why do you want to work for Lovers Bookstores?”

“Honestly, I need the money.” It didn’t matter whether Denis Foster liked his answer or not, though it was difficult to tell one way or the other. The man wore a difficult to read expression and had piercing eyes which never blinked. “Having said that, I want to do the best job I can. I mean jobs are hard to find and I think I have the skills to do well.”

“And what happens when you graduate from uni? Will it be good bye?”

“Probably,” said Tony. “But I still have two years to go and even then I’m not assured of getting a job straight away.”

Denis Foster’s eyes remained fixed on Tony.

“When I rang the number on your CV a girl answered. Is she your girlfriend?”

Tony’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.

“I beg your…w-what?” He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “What’s that got to do with…”

“Just answer the question,” said Denis leaning forward across his cluttered desk.

“No, she isn’t.”

“Are you gay?”

Tony’s eyes grew even wider. His muscles tensed. His breathing became deeper, faster.

“Yes,” he said defensively, “although it’s none of your…”

“Good,” replied Denis, cutting him off. “The shop manager wants a gay man. I just had to make sure.” He picked up one of the magazines on his desk. “You’ll have to sell magazines like this.” He held up a picture of a woman spread-eagled, her fingers parting her pussy lips to show the world what lay behind. “You’ll have to sell dildoes, vibrators, blow up dolls, condoms, lingerie. Any of that bother you?”

Tony shook his head. “No.”

Denis nodded. His eyes still unblinking, like a crazy man.

“Good. There can’t be any judgement in this business. If a guy comes in and wants a blow up doll, you sell it to him. If someone comes in to buy a Man-O-War, you sell it to them, as well as some lube and anything else you can add on.”

“What’s a Man-O-War?”

Denis glared at him, or did he? It was difficult to tell with someone who didn’t blink. He leaned down behind his desk and produced a dildo the size of a small child.

“This is a Man-O-War,” he said.

Tony gasped. “Can people actually get that up their…” He could barely bring himself to say the words.

“Up their cunts? Up their arses?” said Denis. “Yep. We don’t sell many, but they do sell.”

Tony’s mind wandered for a moment, trying to figure out how the hell someone could get something that large up their arsehole without rupturing something.

“No judgement,” Denis repeated. “We want our customers to feel welcome, at ease. Like buying a vibrator with a clit stimulator is as natural as buying a carton of milk or a loaf of bread. We want them to spend, spend, spend, and they’ll only do that if they feel comfortable.”

Denis stood up, revealing a sizeable bulge in the front of his pants. He walked to a filing cabinet, pulled open one of the drawers, and removed two folders. He turned around, apparently unaware or, more likely, unconcerned, at the erection tenting his trousers.

Seeing the man so blatantly exhibiting his erect manhood got Tony hard. He pressed down on it as discreetly as he could, which was difficult since Denis refused to take his green, staring eyes off him.