Lewd, Screwed & Tattooed (Part Two)

I've lived in Fargo for two years now, but I still don't know my way around this town. Formerly from Wisconsin, where I've lived on Lake Michigan, I've always known where East was. But here, I haven't a clue. Erin didn't grow up here, and doesn't know Fargo either. Kathy, my mother-in-law, the only one who really knows the town, sits in back as she's given Erin shot-gun so Erin & I can talk.

I pull out of the driveway, and I follow Kathy's directions to our first stop, the adult toy store.

She says she knows right where it is; that it's near a place she used to work. However, either too much time has passed or they have changed the streets in the industrial park, for we spend 20-30 minutes driving up one street, down another, from deadend to deadend. Kathy's unbuckled herself and is kneeling in between the two front seats, trying to figure out where we are going. I'm chain smoking and Erin's giving her best impression of the Benny Hill soundtrack. Too bad we weren't in fast-motion like those scenes; I'm beginning to think we may never make the tattoo parlor appointment...

Finally, there's a light at the end of the tunnel, and we spot the toy store sign.

Moments later, I'm parking the van. We get out and proceed to the door. Each of us filled with the usual adult toy store freak factor. Quietly, we walk in, and head towards the huge wrap-around-wall of sex toys.

The silence is very awkward. I'm forcing Kathy to lead, and Erin is several paces behind. Each of us is aware of the strange dynamic of family assisting mom in her masturbation needs purchase.

We find ourselves standing in front of the vibrator & dildo section of the wall. Kathy, who is very petite, stands dwarfed by the options. Erin, still slightly behind us, seems to be shrinking backwards -- I think in 6 seconds she'll evaporate or make a dash for the parking lot. I can no longer stand it, so I decide to break the silence with a "So, Kathy, what are you looking for?"

"I don't know. This is what happens: I stare at them all, and I don't know what I need." I can feel Erin's emotional squirming, and I have to act fast.

Living up to my carnival barker attitude, I say, "Kathy, let's start with the basics. Are you an 'innie' or an 'outie'?" Silence. "Well, you know... where do you... ummm, think you'd like it the most? Or do you want it, need it all?"

All three of us start giggling. The tension is broken.

Now each of us takes turns picking up products. Kathy likes the lights, the cute animal shapes, the pretty colors. She asks a few questions, trying to figure out what I like without being too personal or direct. I grab a rabbit-style vibe, and say that I recommend it for an unsure beginner as a starter toy. "You can use either the 'innie' or the 'outie' or both & then you'll learn what you want more of in the next toy." She grabs a slightly smaller dolphin version and says "What about this one?" Erin, looking at items on the wall, remains silent, so Kathy and I compare packaging together. When it's shown that it's a pretty powerful & decently priced toy, she holds onto it, and we three continue to shop the wall.

Kathy spies another item, and says "What's this?" as she pulls it off its peg hook.

"Some sort of penis addition, I think" is my reply.

"Like additional head-room" pipes in Erin, to which we all giggle.

"But how's it stay on...?" Kathy ponders.

"With glue" says Erin in a matter of fact voice. A bit of silence as we all realize Erin is dangerously close to sharing too much, even for a family of sex toy shoppers.

But Erin's got all the emotional kinks worked out now, and all the discomfort of vibe shopping with mom is gone. Well, enough to let mom buy her own toy -- Erin and I make no purchases. ;) Now it's off the the tattoo parlor.

We find this place easily enough, and with a few minutes to spare, so we stop for a soda pop at the restaurant nextdoor. Erin's had several tats, and she begins telling her mom about what to expect, and then we head on over. Oddly enough, while this is the event that is most controversial in the context of the story, nothing much happens here. I mean, they get their mother-and-daughter matching tats, but it's rather uneventful. After watching Kathy get her first tat, I decide to kill time waiting for Erin's turn by getting 6 inches of my hair cut off at the salon next door.

Less than 20 minutes later, Erin and I are both done, and the three of us are marveling at one another's modifications.

Once in the van, more giddy girl gab fills the air. Kathy says "I don't want to go home!" Like three 16 year old girls out driving in town, we had our independence! We're exhilarated! For these moments we were free of all labels -- there was no mom, no in-law relationships, no age differences, anxieties or insecurities and no responsibilities. We were three wild women completely in the moment.

Then Kathy says, "I want a cigarette!"

Erin & I stare at eachother in shock.

"I used to smoke. Years ago. If I have to return home, I want a cigarette!"

Erin & I proffer our packs, lighters are passed, and there, in the parking lot, the three of us inhale as one. No, not one co-ordinated event, but all three of us are drinking in the power of naughty abandonment as sure as our lungs suck the nicotine. It's a quiet, but frantic, wonderful moment. Then Erin says "I guess now we can say we got mom lewd, screwed and tattooed today."

We all dissolve into laughter as I pull out of the parking lot, and head for Kathy's house (I know where we are now!). As the cigs shorten, so our enthusiasm dampens bit by bit. We are heading home. Back to our roles. Back to our labels. Back to expectations... and reactions from dad.

About two blocks away from the house, Kathy offers us all a mint to conceal our smoker's breath. "None for me, thanks. First of all, everyone knows I smoke. And second of all, as the black guy in the horror movie, I'm not going in for the reaction. I'll see you in an hour, at dinner. Good luck!"

They both laugh, thank me for driving, and head into the house to face whatever music awaits them.

Me? I drove home. Really thankful my husband had arranged this playdate for me. And a bit sad for the loss of that moment of the three of us smoking in the van...

I told hubby all about the afternoon, complete with the cigarette story. But I didn't try to explain what it meant to me. He's a good guy, a sensitve guy. But a guy nevertheless.

I just hope we three can get lewd, screwed and tattooed again, real soon. And often.