Too Much Information

I wonder what the delicate man behind the counter at the drug store thought when I purchased an enema, lube, and a box of single sided razor blades "because the single-sided ones are better for what I need."

Honestly, the enema and lube were for, well, anal play. The razors were for carving foam.

This man was soft, gentle. He stretched out the seconds as he counted the bills I handed to him. he moved like Daryl Hannah in SPLASH when she was sick and in that tank. Except this guy wasn't sick, just graceful. He probably imagined the razors and lube and enema were for a vampire sex ritual. I doubt he cared, though--he was working in a Chelsea drug store, after all. He'd seen it all. Maybe I gave him something to masturbate to? Or something to post on his blog Pharmo-Fear: Alarming Tales from the Pharmaceutical Counter at Chelsea Drugs.