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A visit to the d’erotica zone.

Two professional women: both married with kids and both juggling clients, reports, potty training, packed lunches, chores, dogs, cats, errands, husbands and …”what was that you said? SEX?”
That three-letter word that once was so frequent, so liberating, so yummy has been sidelined in a sea of life, work and snot.
It is time.
Time to put sex back on a pedestal by injecting some extra spice into our relationships.

A visit to the d’erotica zone.

Mr. Lee and I arranged for his best friend, a 6-foot 6-inch 280-lb. hunting enthusiast covered in tattoos – one of which reads “Plowhand”, to babysit our three little darlings while we sneaked down the street to Zone d’Erotica. It should be noted I don’t live in a ratty part of town, though I do have a sex shop within walking distance of my home. When this place came to town a few years ago, my little town protested like Newt Gingrich being accused of an open marriage. But alas, we now have our own little fetish shop that I drive by every day on my way to work.

We both took the obligatory picture while walking in to the store, but I can’t figure out how to get it to my computer (yes, I emailed it, but it’s not coming through). We were giddy, and I’m proud to say I wasn’t embarrassed by the chance of being seen there, since it does sit quite close to the main thoroughfare. Like 30-feet close.

Walking in, we were treated to a candyland of negliges, teddies, g-strings and bras in an assortment of colors and patterns. It was kind of like Christmas shopping as we sauntered slowly around the perimeter of the store chuckling here, pointing a finger there. It reminded me of a Halloween party store, just a little skankier, though there were costumes.

Mr. Lee was surprisingly boring about it all, even when we wandered into the “caged” section that featured a warning in green marker that you had to be 18 to enter. I can only imagine the poor, eager 17-year-old boys who have edged tenuously around the entrance only to be rebuffed by the threat of Sharpie on cardboard. I remember sitting in the parking lot of Planet K gifts with friends growing up in Austin just pondering the idea of those who could enter and what lay inside (I should note I still have never been in a Planet K, but I have visited a few Spencer’s Gifts in the mall).

Despite our attempts, we failed to be intrigued by the ticklers, pumps, handcuffs (we have plenty at home) or whips in the caged portion. It didn’t help that I came close to the only other shopper in the store, a man who was closely examining what I learned later was the lesbian section of the videos.

Outside the caged area, we inspected the bachelorette party wares, which would have been fun if we drank, but we don’t. The shiny thong I pulled out for Mr. Lee to consider was met by a gasp of, “That thing’s huge!”

Displaying our middle age confidence, we walked by the register, feigning interest in the lubes, then ended up browsing some leftover Halloween costumes and the plus-size section. I asked Mr. Lee what he wanted, and he looked as if I’d asked him which drapes he preferred, “grape or aubergine?” He was truly uninspired, which I took to mean I’m woman enough for him.

Finally, we settled on a black lace garter belt and two pairs of thigh highs, which I made him go to the register to buy while I browsed the leftover sexy Santa outfits. As we were about to walk out, I did find some darling candy cane striped thigh highs with Santa belt buckles at the top (I am a leg woman, after all), but decided we could save that for another trip.

Afterwards, we made a return at The Home Depot, and went to dinner at Outback. Yes, that’s my life. I got ribs.

During our ride home, I complimented Mr. Lee for not gawking too much, to which he told me, “I couldn’t see anything, I don’t have my contacts in.”

And that’s how Miss Lee does it.


  1. S&M says:

    […] Springs”, I hadn’t counted on our Plowhand babysitter, who saw us through our sex shop visit, falling through at the last […]

  2. […] mission. Tuesday night was Parent Orientation at the preschool, and I had negotiated with the Plowhand to babysit our kids so Mr. Lee and I could go together alone in the car. I had even developed a […]

  3. […] action. He pulled a pair off his police belt, I put on a garder belt (the one from Zone d’Erotica), and he Christian Greyed me with lovely […]

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