Toys for Tarts: Road Rage

I attended a writing conference last Spring at Asilomar, the beautiful conference ground designed by famed architect, Julia Morgan. We’d had long walks on the beach, brainstorming sessions with other romance writers and craft classes taught by Margie Lawson.

During one of the lunch breaks, we somehow got on the subject of sex toys—vibrators, to be exact. Okay, I’ll admit, I had just published The Stimulus Package, under my erotic pen name, Angela Love. Someone asked me about it, and that set the ball in motion. Ask me about my writing and then expect me to shut up? No way. It started to bend the conversation in a very naughty direction. But hey, we were there to have fun, even if a couple of ladies at our table blushed and could hardly speak.

I’m sure the rest of the two hundred or so attendees were wondering what all the laughing was about. We told stories of things that had gone wrong, what kinds of toys we had bought and how they had been misused. One of my friends told the story about her friend, who was a sex toy sales rep, who happened to use a large purple vibrator in traffic.

This isn’t what you think. She was pleasuring herself, but not in the usual way. She extended it through the sunroof of her car at some guy who had been tailgating her for miles.

I asked for and received permission to use this idea for my third in the series, Toys for Tarts, Book 3, Road Rage. So, while this is based on a real incident, the story is entirely mine.

I like reading humorous sexual escapades because it imitates life. Not everything is the old bump and grind. Things that spice up a relationship between two consenting adults can sometimes be funny. They might even be more memorable.

I’m working on Book 4 now: Occupy Me. My lips are sealed until I get this puppy put to bed. But I am having fun with these light reads—sweet treats for me, and so fun to write.

Here’s an excerpt from Road Rage. The Teri Stanton has just left an office party and escaped an embarrassing incident with the boss’s son, Tim Benson. Her lustful thoughts about him have kept her in this low-paying job longer than she intended. So she has taken a part-time job as a sex education instructor for ESL students on path toward citizenship. She’s about to teach her last class of the semester.

Excerpt, Road Rage:

I checked my watch again. I had just enough time to drop by the Health Care office before my class, to pick up the lesson plan. Tim was absorbing energy from the room of clucking hens, so I made my exit.

Sandy Morgen was the Director of the Health Education program for the county. I breezed in, sure my cheeks still hadn’t deflamed. I was shameless. It didn’t matter one whit.

“Hi Sandy, sorry to be a little late. We had a shower at the office.”

“Oh? Who did you shower with?” She smiled like a pampered palace cat, batting her green eyes.

I could feel my cheeks return to their former redness. My tongue wouldn’t work. I was just happy I hadn’t swallowed it by this time.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it.”

I accepted her apology with a nod.

“I have a little plan on condoms tonight.” She placed a purple tin in front of me. It was approximately ten inches long and five inches wide. “Go ahead. Open it. It won’t bite.”

I did. I nearly dropped the lid when I saw a bright pink plastic penis with a metal cord running down the interior of the clear latex sheath.

She leaned over, picked it up and the thing quivered. It was very life-like.

“You will demonstrate how to put a condom on, like this.” She tore open a foil packet, slipped out the condom with two red fingernails, and placed the sheath over the penis. Holding it up, glistening in the fluorescent light of her office that suddenly seemed too small, she spoke to it.

“Wave.”

A mechanical voice repeated, “Okay. Wave.” And then the thing flopped from side to side.

I must have jumped up out of my chair, because I was suddenly standing.

“You wanna try?” she asked.

No. I don’t want to touch that thing.

“Stop,” she said and the device stopped.

“Where…”

“It’s one of mine,” she said.

One of hers? How many did she have?

I’d never seen one before.

“See if it will work for you. Tell it to wave.” She said the last word in a whisper. “It’s very sensitive,” she continued to whisper, but looked at it with devotion written all over her face, and handed it over to me.

I grabbed the thing, held it by the base and said, “Wave.”

Sure enough the little glistening pink penis began to wiggle back and forth, doing it’s best.

“Okay. All set? I gotta run.” She stood as well. “You can return it to me Thursday night, okay?”

I tucked the bright pink vibrator back into its purple satin bed, and closed the tin lid. Then I slid the silver coffin into my briefcase, already bulging and stuffed to the gills, and headed down the polished hallway on my way to the new continuing education wing. Of my old elementary school.

Wonder if any of the kids are still around?

I wasn’t that lucky. The parents were. A whole group of adults piled into a classroom, turning to smile at me, like I was a real teacher, and then tittered at the ringing bell, signaling the beginning of the evening session. I padded down the empty hallway, peering inside glass windows of the closed classroom doors I passed along the way.  Each bevy of parents sat in rapt attention.

Freaking Back to School Night? I have to demonstrate how to put a condom on a vibrator and it’s Back to School Night?

I remembered how interested my parents had been when my big sister and I attended this school almost twenty years ago. By the time high school came along, fueled partially by our outrageous behavior and time spent in the Principal’s office, we were lucky if they attended a single parent event in a whole year. My parents tended to avoid officials, like it was their fault how we’d turned out.

I pushed the tin box further down into the bowels of my briefcase, but the thing still stuck out a good four inches. I kept walking, seeking the safety of my classroom.

At first, I thought my little room was vacant. Maybe it was my imagination, but my adult students seemed to be moving further to the back of the class each week. Thank God this was the last one.

At least I’m as boring as my teachers were way back then. Poetic justice, clear and simple.

Amit was in his usual place front and center, with his usual grin, which was starting to look a little deranged. I didn’t think today’s lesson would help that one bit. But I really didn’t know what was going on with the guy at all. We’d see.

I addressed him with a “good evening”, which he returned. I wondered if this class was the highlight of his week, and my stomach plummeted with the realization that it probably was.

Several languages were being spoken as little groups had formed. Felicia’s voice and laugh was loudest. I knew just enough Spanish to know she had invited the men around her to go dancing with her on Friday night at the Fairgrounds. I lived nearby, and had gotten used to the Mariachi music blaring into my backyard. It was another thing entirely when the monster trucks and tractor pulls came to the fairgrounds. Felicia engaged much discussion about the color of the cowboy boots they would be wearing, and of course Felicia’s were red.

Why doesn’t that surprise me?

I asked the class to settle down, and signaled they should fill in the seats at the front of the room. What, so I didn’t feel lonely?

“I have a demonstration tonight,” I said.

I mean, they do know it’s a sex education class, right?

Several of the members slipped quietly into seats. In the back.

“Come, come. Here,” I motioned. The class was full tonight, no doubt everyone expecting they’d get a diploma. Three very thin dark-haired men sat in a row two seats behind Amit, but everyone else stayed in bunches at the back.

What did I care? Just get the class over with and go home. I was tired, and regretted having had the sweet punch and cake this afternoon. It wasn’t a good substitute for dinner.

I pointed to the charts with the pyramid and Nile rivers, and delivered my lesson plan on the reproductive cycle.

“I don’t think I have to tell you where babies come from,” I said at last. I got nothing but blank stares. “I know you know that, you just can’t understand me, is that right?” I was actually getting a little tired of the non-response, so I sighed. “Look, I don’t know why they bother to give you these classes since no one speaks English. It isn’t my job to teach you. You’re all bright enough to learn that on your own, right?”

I nodded my head, and then said it again with emphasis. “Right?” This time most of the class answered,  “Right,” and nodded as well.

“And I’m guessing all of you are way more familiar with condoms than I am, right?”

“Right.” They responded, more to my head bobbing than my word cue.

“They want you to wear them because you might pick up a disease, but they also prevent unwanted pregnancies, right?”

“Right.”

“But we all know babies come from storks, so this little demonstration is really useless. I’m going to do it anyway.” I was feeling snarky. I should have seen this as a danger sign. Since I had forgotten to say, “right” the group sat motionless and watched me. Some were frowning. Two of the men behind Amit whispered between themselves, shaking their heads and I heard the word “baby” spoken by one of them.  I doubted they knew what a stork was. But I’m sure they knew what the word baby meant.

So now it was time. I got out the silver tin and placed it on the desk. Felicia was especially interested, leaning forward. I hoped she didn’t understand what was inside. And if Felicia didn’t, good bet no one else did either.

My fingers were shaking as I removed the lid. Why? I pulled two little gold foil packets from my briefcase. Laying them on the desk next to the box got some attention from the crowd, but no one in the first four rows. Oh. My. God. Perhaps they’ve never seen one before. That would mean…

I sighed.  Showtime. “I’m going to demonstrate how you put a condom on a man’s…a man’s…how you cover a man’s…package with these latex condoms.”

At least I’d gotten out the words. That was half the battle, right?

I whipped out that pink vibrator like I did it every day. The thing shimmered in all its glory, as if sensing the crowd and loving the stage presence.

The collective gasp was bisected by the sound of a very large bell buzzer. My students looked at the ceiling, like perhaps the sky was going to fall, or the wrath of God was going to come down upon us all. A couple of the men in the very back covered their eyes, ducked and pointed at me. I could hear the panicked chatter over the sound of the bell.

I think it rang twice as long. Was someone making fun of me and this little scene? I waited until it stopped before proceeding. Gripping the base of the vibrator firmly, I tore open the foil packet with my teeth. This was also a move that proved disturbing to several of the men. I spit out the top of the foil strip, since I didn’t have a free hand.

I removed the shriveled condom with two fingers, palmed it, then placed it over the tip of the vibrator and sheathed the pink glistening protuberance, like it was no problem. I mean, this is useful information, right?

Success, thank God.

I held it up by the base for all the class to see.  A line of men formed at the rear door, itching to escape. Felicia was laughing, as was the whole of the group around her. The men in front were whispering and pointing sharply. Amit stayed right there and continued to grin without a change in expression. Now I knew something evil lurked inside him.

I needed to make the point about how the condom had to stay on, even though things were probably heating up. And then we’d be done. I could wipe the gel from my fingers on the moist towelettes I always carried in my briefcase, and I’d soon announce they all passed, and the Department would send out their proof of class. If their addresses were current, that is.

So, with just one point to make, something wild in me came out. There was a reason my mother called me the devil-child.  I used to think it was because of my flaming red hair. As I looked at my class, I found the courage to say, “Wave.”

Covered in the clear tubing with lubricant, the vibrator did a bow like an actor on a stage. But the audience bailed. I mean, it looked like a theater crowd running to escape a fire.

Just before my classroom doors were pushed open, I saw several faces peering through the window, disbelief written all over. I knew I wouldn’t be asked back for the second session. My career in sex education was toast.

Hope you’ve enjoyed this little fantasy tidbit. Tell me, do you have a funny story involving sex toys? I’d love to hear it.

Sharon Hamilton/Angela Love
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