It all started with a co-worker; let’s call her M. M and I were working the graveyard shift at my workplace (a call centre for a credit card, if you must know), and were the only two people there. There was a lot of free time for talking, so talking we did. I’m not entirely sure how it happened, but I came out of the closet to her during this conversation, and, to my surprise, she told me that, although she was married to a man and had never been with women, she considered herself bisexual and had grown-up in a very open-minded family. This, in turn, encouraged me to mention my sex toy collection, as well as my activities in the Edenfantasys community. M showed interest; we talked a bit about the toys that women can use with other women, toys that can be used alone, and a thing or two about toys that can be used with men, too. Somehow, I ended up promising her that I would show her some of my toys sometime, and since we were both working the night shift again a few days later, I resolved to bring her a couple then.
Now, while there aren’t any specific rules in my workplace about bringing sex toys to work, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be entirely happy about it, either. So, I thought I might just bring something small; something that could be easily smuggled in my bag.
The Universe had other designs for me, as it turns out.
The day I had promised I would bring her something to check out, I was running late. Really late. So late, in fact, that I didn’t have the time to select which toy I was going to bring from my collection, the entirety of which was sleeping clean and ready in their special lockable case. So, instead of just saying “screw it, I won’t take anything after all,” something made me just grab the entire case, strap it to my bike and head to work, pedaling like mad, hoping that I wouldn’t have an accident and spill all my dildos across the road. I wouldn’t want to be the traffic police officer writing THAT report, fun as it would be to read.
M was delighted. We had several hours of fun; picking up toys, talking about their properties, and giving her a demonstration on how they worked. And no, before your kinky little minds go wild, we did not have sex in the workplace. We just had a friendly chat about dildos and other sex toys, the materials they are made of, which ones were safe and which ones weren’t, and, finally, where we could get them in our country. I gave her the web address of a couple sex shops that I knew carried good quality toys and delivered country-wide, reminded her that good toys would very likely have highly inflated prices because the people in my country are bastards like that, and ended my shift feeling pretty good about myself.
I had found a friend to talk about sex toys with; someone who not only didn’t judge me badly for my bedroom activities, but actually found them kind of inspiring, and who would probably find a thing or two to make her own sex life richer as a result.
I was, in a word, chuffed.
One thing I wasn’t, however, is looking forward to dragging my big case of sex toys back home. You see, I own a large amount of them, and all of them are made of silicone, glass, or metal. So, that case is HEAVY. It was one thing to carry it on my bike to work, going downhill, and quite another to carry it back home, uphill all the way.
Letting my laziness get the better of me, I stuffed the case in my locker, hoped there wouldn’t be some kind of emergency or bomb scare that involved opening the lockers to inspect their contents, and went home, cheerfully singing “Kinky Neighbours” under my breath (“Kinky Neighbours” is a real song by “The Wet Spots,” and if you don’t know them, you don’t know what you’re missing).
I fully intended to bring the case back home the following day, I really did... but that, again, turned out not to happen.
The following night, L was working the night shift with me. He’d always been very open about his sex life and we had often joked about my toy collection, so I decided that, since I had it with me, I might as well show it to him, too. The case was opened once more, and the giggling, questioning, and teaching resumed. He left his work shift with a few ideas about what to give his boyfriend for an anniversary gift, and what to ask for a birthday present, too.
I was tired when my shift ended, and the case hadn’t gotten any lighter, so it slept in my locker again that day. And the following day, after K had left for home with advice on how to spice up a ten-year-long marriage; AND the following, when A was left with the firm decision to try to get a tiny vibe for herself, possibly one disguised as a lipstick or a pen drive, so as not to horrify her roommates.
That case stayed in my locker for an entire week, during which each and every one of my co-workers working the graveyard shift got their turn at inspecting my toys, getting over their preconceptions about the people who use them, and asking me where they could get their own. By the time I finally gave up on dragging the case back home by bicycle and just took the bus home with it, five people had had their eyes opened to a whole new world of possibilities.
Absolutely none of these people have changed the way they treat me at work, or if they have, it’s been for the better. Most have come back to ask advice on specific toys they were planning to get from the websites I had recommended, and have mentioned some very positive reactions from their partners when they mentioned their plans to get something to spice things up.
I’m not saying everyone should do what I did and bring their entire toy collection to work. Maybe though, just maybe, it’s time that cute little vibe that brings so much joy to your bedroom life see the light of day and start taking a trip or two in your handbag or briefcase. Who knows... it might end up inspiring other people to add a few chocolate chips and peanut butter swirlies to the vanilla of their sex lives, too.