Written by Sass
A few years ago, I had a friend who lived in Chicago. I went to visit her one weekend, and she took me to a party unlike any I'd ever been to before.
For those of you who have any knowledge of Chicago, you may be able to better understand the neighborhood we were in. It was on the South side, on California Avenue (Street?). The Cook County jail was nearby. Needless to say, it was a little rougher neighborhood than I was used to.
My friend and I pulled up at the party and she said, "I forgot to mention we'd probably be the only non-Latinas here." I was fine with that, and we headed in for the party.
Once I got in, I saw the "hostess" of the party. She was standing near the center of the room, next to a table piled high with different bottles, brochures, and other items. In her hands she held the biggest, blackest, most life like rubber penis I'd ever seen. I saw the different women walking up to it, touching it, laughing about it, commenting on how they'd use it. I stood there with my mouth wide open, and tried so hard not to stare.
We sat down in a circle, and the hostess asked for a volunteer. One of the women nearly jumped out of her seat, ready to subject herself to whatever may lie ahead. She was handed a bottle of cream, was asked to apply it to her, uh...self, and come back into the room and sit still. Again, I found myself sitting there with my mouth wide open, wondering what in the heck I'd gotten myself in to.
Every possible vibrator you could possibly imagine was passed around. At one point we were asked to place one against the tip of our nose. I didn't know much, but I was relatively sure that we were doing it wrong. Occasionally, the girl with the cream on her hoo-ha would exclaim, "It's working! It's worrrrkiiinnnnnggggg."
Then we saw the catalog. I was so intimidated, I figured I'd better buy something so that I wouldn't seem rude. Surely there was something I could handle. I bought a tub of "Angel Dust," honey flavored body powder with glitter in it. My friend bought a "shower massager," and we both just sat in amazement.
I perused the catalog a little more intensely and realized...these vibrators are downright expensive. The deluxe rabbit model, fully equipped with a night-light, separate gas and oil tanks, and a hemi went for 80 dollars. I saw women deciding which model they wanted. Did they need a pull start? Would a 12 volt battery be strong enough? Is diesel really the best way to go? Won't the smell of exhaust fumes negatively mix with the cinnamon flavored nipple grease?
I saw money flying out of purses. Credit cards being overworked. Deals being negotiated between friends, "You pay for it and I'll let you borrow it on Tuesdays." Did she just? Oh, yes...she did.
Amongst the fury, I came to a realization. This is a freaking brilliant business to get into. An endless supply of sexual apparati, for a seemingly endless supply of sexual demand. At the end of the party, I overheard the hostess tell her friend what the final sales total was that night. In a crowded apartment on the South Side of Chicago, in a room full of Latina women...$6,750 worth of sex toys had been purchased. That's right. Six THOUSAND...Seven HUNDRED...and fifty dollars. In two hours.
I decided to purchase a few more things, you know...for research purposes only, of course. I went home and got on the website of the company the girl was selling for.
My packet should be arriving soon...