"So, who’s our target audience?” I ask for everyone to hear.
Kara turns and smiles, sensing she’s got me too. “Everyone. But I want to target college-age customers . . . like you.”
“Really? I thought—”
“That our customers would be mostly dick-starved, middle-aged horny housewives like me?” Kara finishes for me with a toothy bleached-white smile.
“Oh, no,” I begin to say, shaking my head. “I didn’t mean it like that—”
Kara cuts me off and dismisses me with a wave of her hand. “Honestly, honey, no offense taken. First rule of sales—start with what you know. I have an entire leg of my team made up with women who’ve seen it, done it, and been largely disappointed by it. We’ve got no shame in our game about getting what we know we like or exploring to figure that out.”
She lifts a brow, daring me to have a problem with that. Which I don’t . . . at all. I support healthy sexual exploration at all ages. And I’ve done a lot of learning about what is and isn’t healthy sexuality, both from books and my own research.
So when I stay silent, she continues, speaking to the room at large once more, “But it’s time for business to grow, and that’s where you come in. Younger women need that same empowerment to explore, learn their wants and needs, and satisfy them. And though you’re all here, by and large, they don’t want to talk to their moms“ —Kara flips her hair over her shoulder with a sassy smirk— “or their cool aunt about their sex lives. They want to talk to their girlfriends . . . their peers . . . their friends. They want to talk to you and become your customer.”
Jaxx leans over and summarizes, “Fresh blood.”
“I just don’t know,” I murmur to Jaxx as Kara continues to go around the room, easily switching from selling product to selling the opportunity of becoming a Bedroom Heaven representative. “There’s not a girl I know who has a problem getting a real dick.”
Disgust curls Jaxx’s black-painted lips. “Are you serious? That’s even more reason. Guys our age suck, especially frat boys. Have you seen them in action? Three minutes, blow their load, couldn’t please a girl if their life depended on it.”
She sounds more than a little bit bitter, and I wonder if Jaxx has first-hand knowledge about a particular frat boy on campus. “They don’t even wash properly. Have you seen that nurse lady on TikTok talk about how guys come in and when they get up from the exam table, there’s a skid mark? Ugh . . . can’t even wipe their ass or give themselves a scrub, they certainly can’t come near my sensitive—and clean—penis flytrap.”
Her vehemence, and rare animation, is surprising. She’s right about one thing, though. I’ve unfortunately had a couple of regrets with guys who thought that going down on me was as impossible as hell freezing over.
I consider those encounters lessons learned, though, the steps that got me to where I am now—comfortable in my own body, aware of what I need, and willing to explore under the right circumstances.
But I know that’s rare. More common is a sense of shame where sex is concerned, or women who are people pleasers taking that mindset into the bedroom, or worst of all, women who’ve been brainwashed into thinking that porn-type, overly dramatic acting is real and what they’re supposed to enjoy.
So I guess Jaxx has a point.
For the next half hour, Kara goes down a list of products from the catalog, holding up each one from her display table. I watch with rapt fascination as I see sex toys that I’ve heard about before and some I haven’t, which is actually a pretty rare thing considering my studies.
Some look oversized, or studded, or like torture devices that are designed to hurt, which incidentally, Jaxx loves. Others look more friendly and cute, like little round balls and colorful eggs that vibrate.
The room oohs and ahhs as Kara gives demonstrations of some of the devices, explaining how they work and how they’re best used.
I’m having such a good time learning all these new gadgets that before I know it, the business aspect is all but forgotten. Except to Kara, who knows she’s got us all right where she wants us.
She reminds us about the rules and expectations of being a Bedroom Heaven representative, finishing with the prizes at stake for being a top seller.
“So if you sell 100 Bedroom Heaven gift boxes, you’ll be eligible for a $2,000 bonus,” she tells the room so dramatically she might as well be dangling a carrot-shaped dildo over us. Which the company sells, in a cheeky appeal to vegans. Everyone’s eyes light up, and girls begin excitedly chattering among each other.
Trixleigh narrows shrewd eyes on the rest of the room, warning, “The girls of Gamma Lambda Kappa are mine. Don’t mess with me.”
I’d laugh, but 2,000 dollars? That’s worth a bit of dirty play and understandable possessiveness of potential customers.
2,000 dollars? I think to myself, quickly doing the math in my head. On top of the money I make off each individual sale, that would be quite the haul. The question is, how many dicks can I sell?
Even though I’m pretty outgoing, I still can’t see myself going to my college buddies and asking them, “So . . . interested in buying a big vibrating weenie, and maybe combo it up with some strawberry flavored lube for when you’re getting the real thing?”
“But there’s a caveat for you ladies who are just joining in with us,” Kara says, raising a manicured finger, silencing everyone around the room. “We’re at the end of the sales quarter, and to qualify for any bonus, you have to sell the minimum amount during the current quarter.”
“How much time do we have left?” I ask. Deadlines are important. And motivational.
Kara licks her finger and presses it to her curvy derriere, making a hissing sound. “Put a fire under your booty, ladies. Bedroom Heaven’s quarterly party is in two weeks to be eligible! You need to sell at least 100 gift boxes in two weeks, so get to getting!”
A sense of urgency sweeps through the room, exactly as she intended, and she points to a table where a large stack of folders with embossed logos sit, ready for us.
“Also, for those of you who are new, if you’ve decided you want to represent Bedroom Heaven, you’re gonna need to sign a contract that includes the percentage you’ll make from every sale, what you can and can’t do as a representative, and an ironclad NDA agreement. I’d advise you to look over it very carefully. If you need help reading and understanding it, me or my niece, Jaxx, would be happy to help.”
“Two weeks,” I mutter as the room begins chattering again excitedly, crowding around the contract table. “Guess I won’t have a chance at that bonus.”
I mean for it to be quiet, just to keep myself from getting my hopes up like the other women already spending the bonus on various things from school tuition to rent.
“Nonsense,” Kara says, grabbing a folder off the top for me. “I’ll help you look over the contract. There’s really nothing to it, just the usual to cover their bases. And as far as making a sales goal, you’ll have me to help you, and I can sell ice to a polar bear. Just follow my lead, and you’ll be a Gold Star seller in no time.” She chucks me in the elbow and winks at me. “Now grab a bag of dicks, and get out there and start making some money.”