Chapter Fourteen Euan
The first ten minutes of the drive are filled with awkward silence only interrupted by the GPS’s cheerful directions. Alex still hasn’t said anything about his discussion with Theresa. I can guess the subject—he needed to explain our marriage at some point—but I can’t guess her reaction.
Sometime after I’ve merged onto the highway, he finally speaks. “Theresa wants to handle the annulment.”
My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. I glance at him to gauge his reaction before refocusing on the traffic around me. “That’s … not what I expected. Do you want her to handle it?”
Alex is quiet for a long moment before he says slowly, “I think so. She is a good lawyer, so I trust her to handle our case professionally.”
“I don’t know how I feel about your ex being involved,” I admit. “It’d be like if I called up Nick and asked for his advice.”
“Is he also a family lawyer?” Alex asks dryly.
I snort. “No, he’s a librarian.”
Alex shifts in his seat, leaning his head against the window. Some of the tightness leaves his expression as he gazes at me. “How did you meet Nick anyway?”
“Through a string of mutual friends. An old college roommate wanted to arrange an online game campaign. One of the other players invited Nick. We only made it through a few sessions before people started dropping out. Then one session, we were the only two who showed up. No one had officially canceled, so we decided to give them fifteen minutes past the start time. We started talking and fifteen minutes turned into an hour which turned into six.”
“Six hours?!” Alex exclaims. “I didn’t think you were the type to talk for six hours straight.”
My lips twitch at the correct assessment. “Nick did most of the talking. He’s very good at filling silences.”
“Aren’t librarians supposed to be quiet?”
“Probably why he talks so much outside of work.”
“So, you went from RPG to LDR. A real modern-day romance.” After a second, he flinches and mutters, “Shit, probably not the best thing to say about a failed relationship.”
“It’s fine. If I’m honest, I’ve barely thought of him the past few days. It turns out getting married is an excellent way to get over your ex.”
Alex is quiet for a long time before murmuring, “Yeah, I guess it is.”
Not wanting the conversation to lapse into awkward silence, I ask, “How did you meet Theresa?”
“She assisted with my sister’s divorce. We met briefly during the process and once everything was settled, she asked for my number.”
It doesn’t surprise me that Theresa made the first move.
Or that Alex accepted. At some point during Alex’s drunken ramblings about her, I created an image in my head of a towering Valkyrie with flowing blond hair and a large mouth that never stopped issuing demands.
The poised young woman I met at the lawyer’s office didn’t match that image at all.
Her auburn hair was neatly tied back in a no-nonsense bun.
The suit she wore was tailored to hint at curves while offering her proper armor to face off against her foes in the courtroom.
And her mouth of course didn’t overtake her face, her bowed lips meshing perfectly with her other striking features.
She was a beautiful woman with a vibrant personality.
But she doesn’t belong with my Alex.
I shake the thought away. Just because we’re married on paper doesn’t make him ‘mine.’
“So what was the RPG?” Alex asks.
Long enough has passed that it takes me a moment to connect the question with our previous conversation. “Oh, it was something my buddy homebrewed.”
“Homebrewed?”
Since it seems like Alex doesn’t want to talk about himself right now, I fill the rest of the drive explaining table-top game terminology, campaigns we’ve done in the past, everything I can think of.
He was right when he guessed I wasn’t usually bursting with conversation, but this is an easy topic to talk about.
Especially when someone who knows almost nothing is asking all the right questions.
The GPS interrupts my explanation of the various dice, and I have to stop talking while I focus.
When I finally pull into the parking lot, Alex’s jaw drops when he sees the building.
I place my folded arms on the steering wheel and my chin on top of them as I take it all in.
I’d seen pictures, of course, so I knew what to expect, but Alex had no preconceptions.
The building is two stories tall with a wide expanse facing the street.
The owners have taken advantage of the space by filling the windows with a variety of pixelated figures, all kept PG-13.
All the characters are unique enough from their video game counterparts to slip under the radar.
A pink princess runs from a green, blobby pursuer.
Or maybe they’re both running from the large neon sign spelling out "Lingerie" in capital letters.
On the other side, a knight in blue armor fires a blaster at a sign that says "Adult Toys.
" Above it all are the giant green letters spelling out: Plug + Play.
“Is this a video game themed sex shop?” Alex demands.
“Yup.”
“This is the greatest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he replies, his voice filled with genuine reverence.
He still hasn’t moved yet, just taking in the magnificence.
“You want to go in?”
He’s out of the car before he even replies. “Hell yes.”
The first thing we see when we enter is the counter made of an old pinball machine.
The goth behind the counter glances at us, determines that we’re old enough to not need to show our ID, and recites, “Front room is vintage and leather clothes. The dressing room requires a key. The second floor is videos, magazines, and adult toys. If you’re looking for something a little more adventurous, feel free to explore our dungeon downstairs.
” The whole thing is delivered in the bored monotone of someone who’s said it too many times. “Let me know if you need any help.”
As we walk away from the counter, Alex mutters, “They could have at least tried to slip in some game references.”
“Maybe they’re concerned about copyright.”
He grumbles in acceptance, then gets distracted by the carpet on the floor mimicking a game maze. Little pixelated fruits are hidden in some of the corners, and he starts following the path toward a cherry. He’s so focused on the treasure that he bumps right into a rack of clothes.
I steady him with a hand on his lower back and guide him around the racks.
The goth at the counter could exclusively buy their clothes here and never run out of options.
There are corsets and lace panties and assless chaps, but there’s also T-shirts, layered skirts, and frilly dresses.
Most of the clothes seem to be geared toward the feminine, but an entire back wall has thrifted leather jackets.
I grab a sleeve, rubbing my thumb over the buttery material.
“So do you like leather?” Alex asks, sidling up next to me.
“I like a good leather jacket. I haven’t explored it much in the bedroom.” I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and keep my tone casual as I ask, “What about you?”
He plucks a pair of fully leather pants off a rack. “It seems … stiff.” He hangs them up again and meanders through the aisles until he arrives at a display of lace lingerie sets.
I brace for him to mention Theresa or something about their sex life.
Instead, he picks up a pair of black lace panties and holds them in front of himself at waist level. My mouth goes dry as I watch him twist and turn in front of a mirror as if modeling them. The urge to ask the goth for a key surges up in me, though I know underwear isn’t something people try on.
“What’s the appeal?”
I have to swallow before I can ask, “Of what?”
“Of men in lingerie.”
I’m not sure what inspired the question, so I’m careful with my answer, “I think some people like the juxtaposition of the masculine and the feminine.” As he continues to fiddle with the panties, I ask gently, “You are bisexual, right?” He implied as much through a dozen different ways—flirting with me at the bar, for one, and a brief mention of college escapades—but he hasn’t outright stated his sexuality.
“Yeah, but it’s been a while. I had two boyfriends in college while I was still figuring things out, and it’s just been girlfriends since them.”
“It’s probably easier to date women,” I reply.
He makes a noise that’s difficult to interpret, then finally puts the panties down. I let out a breath that’s a little too close to a sigh of disappointment. “Anyway, I was very vanilla in college, and well …” He trails off, thankfully side-stepping any mention of Theresa.
Right now, I want to pretend that the two of us are shopping together to find what we both want rather than as a distraction from our messy lives.
“Do you want to try wearing lingerie?” I ask. It’s a daring question, probably pushing the boundaries of our tenuous relationship, but he brought it up first.
He shoots me a sly look, pink lips curving in a mischievous smile. “What if I want to see you in it?” The words are barely out of his mouth before his face flushes red as a tomato. “I, um, I mean, sorry, that was inappropriate—”
I reach past him and pick up the largest pair—a 3x—and hold it in front of me the same way he did. “You think it’ll fit?”
He’s still off-kilter from his own words, so he just bobs his head awkwardly, then slips between the aisles of clothes, toward the stairs at the back.
I bring the panties with me.
We come to a crossroads, standing at the junction of two staircases.
The stairs up to the second floor are lined with rainbow lights.
The stairs down to the basement are lined in red.
A red neon sign above the basement entrance reads "dungeon" with two 20-sided dice, one for a critical failure and one for a critical success. Alex’s eyes light up when he sees the sign. “Hey, I know what that means now.”
I grin at his enthusiasm. “Do you want to go down to the dungeon?”
He eyes the curtain of gray plastic chains, then looks up the stairs to the second floor.
The carpet runner shows an alien abduction in progress, with a classic domed spaceship on the top step and a light beaming up cows and figures from the farm on the bottom step.
“Do you think the dildos are game-themed or normal?”
The question surprises me. Since he’d only been with women recently, I assumed he’d be more interested in cock-sleeves than dildoes. I can’t tell if his words are a hint or pure curiosity.
“Probably normal, but they might have some creature-themed ones if you’re looking for something different.”
“Creature-themed?” he asks, his brow furrowing.
“You know, with knots or shaped like tentacles.”
His eyes widen at the description. For a moment, I’m sure it’s enough to convince him to explore the upstairs first. Yet his gaze slowly drifts back to the dungeon entrance, drawn to the promise of darker delights. “Let’s go down first.” After a second, he says, “Unless you want to split up?”
Absolutely not. I don’t want to miss a second of his reactions—or his tentative flirting. “Let’s stick together. I don’t want you to get eaten by a dragon.”
“Or fucked by one,” he replies.
The little tease escapes down into the dungeon without looking back.