Words by: Olivia O’Keeffe
Art by: Ella McClymont

It was after dark when I left my house …

I had wondered how much of the brisk, cool air I’d feel lacing my thighs as I strolled the streets. I was concealed in all black, mysterious like a shadow. Usually I wore sheerly stretched tights underneath my mini-length skirt, although not tonight. Over the top of my ink-silk blouse, I draped my almost-too-long trench coat. I made sure to check that as I moved, it covered just enough to give off modesty but not enough to seem unsultry. It was my first time visiting an adult store, and I wanted to read as if I were taking it seriously. Adult-like, as the name suggests. 

As I walked into the store, I became more open to the experience, making it lighter and more fun. Yet not to the point of appearing so enthusiastic that I risk looking like someone who finds this type of environment funny. Or worse, I am funny in this environment. After the staff member greeted me, I felt casual enough to look around. I had expected there to be aisles like in a supermarket. Shorter in length but the same vertical formation. You start with cereal and finish with tupperware. Instead, there were large round tables that looped the beginning and end points together. Circles, I thought, are obviously more sensual than straight lines. The shape encouraged me to amble around each table more than once, so I made sure not to miss a thing.  

The first table was arranged with mostly sex-related books and games. The titles, by nature, were sex-positive, promoting explorations of your pleasure spectrum and guides to having threesomes. I took an interest in the ‘C*nt Colouring Book’. An exquisite thing that showcased drawings of clits, c*nts and vulvas. I happened to agree with the artist’s sentiment – that a pussy is a piece of art, just waiting to be coloured. On this table, too, were ideas of today’s modern world, showcasing how the topic of sex is interwoven with politics and health education. And how it is all connected – f*ck me, but don’t f*ck my world up. 

The next table featured a long golden stick with a decadent black feather. It was surrounded by mostly lube, which looked like nothing compared to the feather. I imagined the sensation I’d feel if it were to touch my skin. I envisioned myself being tickled by it and how that would cause me to laugh. I thought to myself, was that sexy?

Amid golden velvet curtains, I catch my reflection in the mirror. Sultry, serious, adult. That’s me.

On the third table were sex toys. Many seemed to align with my pleasure spectrum – shaped like a phallus, with the ability to vibrate, all coming in a spectrum of colours. And then I noticed there were objects that made me think of sexy as an abstract. A vibrator, but make it an animal. Light and fun. With labels such as peachy pony exhibited next to princette puppypus. Their pastel colours evoked a sense of joy and playfulness towards this particular section of the table. I enjoyed the way these objects surprised me, and the idea of them pleasuring someone’s erotic art. 

As I circled the final table, I noticed the vibe was clear: BDSM. I liked how each table gradually built you up to this. This section, however, was more than just a table; it featured an additional rack with hanging chains and whips. Objects that I thought would make quite the impact. I got the sense that if I were interested in giving these a whirl, I should return to the first table again and do some light reading.

With the loop completed, I nodded to the staff and confidently left the pleasures behind me. 

The night was cold, but here I am tender. I could make this a ritual, I thought – this little shop of intercourse.