Dog Gone It

My husband and I have been using the bedroom only for sleeping as of late. Too much work, too much stress, too much PlayStation3 and my new found talent of falling asleep on the couch as soon as the TV is switched on was taking its toll. I had to take a business trip to Amsterdam a few weeks ago (this is where I insert the disclaimer that my boss is not affiliated with the mafia or drug cartel although he does deal in phone numbers for SMS billing) and decided to check out one of the many sex toy shops. Actually I was walking past one with some co-workers after a night of shear debauchery drinking rose’ wine with dinner. Daredevils that we are. Anyway, we pass this sex shop and I hear giggles and snorts and the resounding “Let’s check it out ladies!” to which I get myself behind the herd and push as hard as I can to make sure we all end up inside. Hey, no one has to tell me twice. This could be my saving grace as far as my intimate encounters go.

Once inside the dude behind the counter looks us up and down once then goes back to his pot induced coma (it is legal there). That leaves us gals to roam freely giggling over such things as the rabbit rocket and other things we could not pronounce in Dutch. I look over several items in the store, some which amuse me others that scare me (who needs a rubber arm? I mean seriously,  what is that all about?) and finally make my way up to the toasted guy behind the counter.
“Excuse me”
No reply
“Um, excuse me”
Nothing
“HELLO?”
Thinking he may be dead from a hemp overdose, I grab the rubber arm and poke him with it.
“Yes?” he says, eyes still glazed over. I jump back a tad freaked that he still looks dead and he had no qualms about being poked with a giant rubber arm.
“Um, I am wondering. My husband and I, well, we could use a little excitement in the bedroom.”
His eyebrow raises as he glances at the big, black rubber arm still firmly in my grasp.
“Oh, no! My guy is more of a leg man" I blurt. "I like cute butts myself.” As soon as the words leave my lips I look around, scared that he is going to whip out a big rubber leg attached to an ass and say “Here you go! This solves it all!” Instead he leans over and pulls out a bottle behind the counter.
“This stuff is all you need”, he says.
I look at the bottle and all I can read in English is “Hot 69”. Interesting. The Dutch have figured out a way to put a sex position into a bottle. Crafty Dutchies. But, that is what you should expect from people that make shoes from tree branches.
“I am not too sure this translates well”, I say.
“It is a pheromone gel. You put this on you and your guy will not be able to resist you.”
I am almost afraid to ask the next question but, the fact I now have three arms gives me courage.
“Ah, where on me do I put it?”
“Anywhere. Use it like you do perfume.”
Shew. Ok. I can handle that. How simple! I tell the guy to give me the biggest bottle he has, put down the rubber arm, whip out way too many Euros , gather the girls who are now smacking each other with riding crops and dangerously close to breaking some odd looking, phallic, glass things and out we go. I have a bottle of Hot 69 gel and dammit, I can’t wait to get home to my guy.

Fast forward a week and I am home, jet lag firmly behind me. After spending the past seven days falling asleep at 5pm, it is finally the weekend and I am back on schedule. Time to break out the Netherland weapon of mass reproduction.

I send my hubby off to the store to pick up some mixers for our rum and scurry upstairs to the bedroom. Opening my nightstand, I dig behind my sunglasses, a rabbit rocket (I plead the 5th) and grab the glorious bottle of Hot 69 gel. I open it, squeeze out a little, dab it behind my ears, have a second thought and squeeze out a little more. 5 minutes later there is not an inch of me that isn’t covered in the musky smelling Holland magic goo and I think to myself he should be able to smell me from the driveway.  I have thoughts of him busting through the door, ripping his shirt off, pounding his chest like Tarzan and bounding up the stairs after me. “You Tarzan. Me Jane”, I say out loud with a giggle. I look down and see Buster, my puppy, looking at me. “What?” I ask him. “Ok, you can be Cheetah but, you have to stay outside when Tarzan gets home.” It is at that time I hear a noise. I can’t make out exactly what it is but, it sounds odd. Then it hits me. It is the sound of a pack of wildly barking dogs and it is getting closer.
I look at Buster again. “What did you do? Did you signal your friends? “ Imagining a pack of dogs yielding huge rubber arms, I quickly bolt for the bathroom, lock myself in, dump the entire bottle of Hot 69 down the toilet and turn the shower on full blast. Damn that stoned sex shop salesman! He sold me eau de doggy pheromone! Thanks to him I was now the most popular bitch on the block. 

20 minutes and an entire bottle of body wash later I emerge from the shower, wrinkled, scrubbed raw, heart still pounding from the scare. I can still hear the barking outside although it has calmed a bit. I am resigned to stay locked in the bathroom and thankful it is on the second floor when I hear Larry knocking on the door.
“You ok in there?”
I want to blurt out “No. I am the hottest thing since Milk Bones and in case you can't tell, I am on the menu”, but, I manage a “Yes. Just taking a shower. Be out soon.”
30 minutes later the barking stops. I slowly open the door wondering if they managed to sneak inside and seeing the coast is clear, creep down the stairs.
“What is wrong with you?” asks Larry.
“Nothing.”, I lie. I wanted to tell him the whole story but, didn’t feel like being laughed at just yet.
“Oh, guess what?” he asks me.
“What?”
“When I got home, the neighborhood dogs were all out front barking up a storm.”
I feel the blood drain from my face. I am going to have to fess up and tell him I had the word SUCKER plastered on my face in an Amsterdam sex toy shop.
“Really?”  I play dumb well.
“Yeah. Damndest thing. Seems the neighbors cat got out and they were chasing it all over our block. They finally treed it up in that big pine right outside our bedroom window. I guess they gave up. I don't hear them now. So, you wanna go watch some TV?”

Falling asleep on the couch never felt so nice.

Comments

[Amy]

Sis, I absolutely adore the way you tell a story. I could picture the whole thing!! I love you and I will see if I can find you another bottle, LOL!!!