After the parking lot incident, I stayed away from Costco for a while. Still, I couldn’t stop replaying the encounter - how his eyes flashed with wrath and maybe desire too. I could still see his smile as he said, “Nope, try again.”

I thought back to my mother’s words how no other man would want me as anything more than to fuck since I’d become a mom. Men might desire me, but not in any significant way. I thought she might be wrong.

Finally, I went back. I needed something I could definitely get at the grocery store, but, I don’t know, I wanted some excitement. I was feeling disenchanted and needed something to make me feel better. Costco: where temptation lurks around every corner.

I made sure to look at least somewhat fuckable. I put on my tall leather boots and a very short dress that flared at the bottom. I applied my mascara and a little darker, lipgloss, and mentally cursed myself for caring to doll myself up to go to Costco.

I made it to the checkout lane with my cart full and my dignity mainly intact. He was there. Be ladylike, remember. I was a sensual mysterious woman. I stopped shoving the samples in my mouth. I headed towards him, him, determined, and we even made eye contact for one time-stopping second, but the fucking bastard switched checkout lanes as I came near. He was avoiding me! I had half a mind to follow him but decided to play it cool. He was wearing a belt with all these pouches attached. What was in the belt? What did he keep in there? I was dying to know.

I checked out with Derek instead. Derek was always there. He was cute enough, just not drop-dead gorgeous and mysterious like Renaissance Guy. Since fucking RG, my interest in him had multiplied exponentially. I wasn’t a stalker or anything like that, but I needed more of him. I’d had a taste but I wanted more and would not rest until I could have him. Physically, yes of course I’d rest. Sleeping is my favorite. But spiritually, emotionally, mentally, I would not rest.

“Can’t stop thinking about him can you?” Derek asked.

“What? No-I- what did you say?” I choked out.

“I said move to the other side of the cashier, please.”

“Oh,” I said, and moved. Auditory hallucinations? This is a new one for you, Becca, I thought.

“Woman fingering herself in aisle 2!” I heard.

“Excuse me?” I mumbled.

“I said, you don’t need boxes, do you?” Derek gave me a bewildered look.

“Oh. No. I don’t.” I replied. Definitely going insane, I thought.

The next day, I opened my front door and found a small box. Must be my Amazon order, I thought. There was always an Amazon order. I’m sorry Renaissance Guy, you’d probably think less of me if you knew how much I shopped online.

But it didn’t look like an Amazon box. It was a small cube and usually the Amazon ones come in those bubble wrap things or the bigger boxes. I looked around instinctively in case there was someone there; then picked it up and closed the door. I opened the box to find a glass amulet of many colors attached to a weird thick macrame rope. I’d never wear this, my style is dainty jewelry. I don’t do a chunky jewelry look. I could have thrown it out, but I put it in my bag instead. Who would send this? Maybe I have a secret admirer, I thought. Someone from the weed store? They could see my address from the ID? Probably not.

~~~

A few days later, I was walking my baby in the stroller when I had the feeling that I was being followed. But then a skater whooshed by and the feeling passed. As he disappeared I squinted my eyes and looked a bit closer. The man was not dressed like a typical skater. He had steampunk accessories. Some might even call them renaissance.

I tried to text my friend to tell her that I suspected Renaissance Guy was enlisting minions but my phone kept autocorrecting practically every word I typed.

Then my car radio stopped working. Sure, it could have been my three-year-old messing with the buttons, but something told me darker forces were afoot.

First the amulet, then the feeling of being followed, then the technological difficulties. This could only be the work of one man-Renaissance Man.

I still didn’t have his number, but I knew where he lived.

I made up some excuse about how I had a staff meeting to my husband and raced the CRV to his house. I made sure to sneak a better outfit into my bag. It was a velvet curve-hugging dress with an embossed pattern over sheer tights. I polished it off with practical loafers, the only practical thing about the ensemble. I parked at a strip mall and changed partway. At the house, there were a few cars in the driveway but I didn’t think much of them.

I knocked and a voice boomed,

“Who goes there?”

“Rebecca?” I answered, a question.

“Rebecca who? Our lord knows many Rebecca’s.”

“I’m…just let me in,” I insisted.

A large man who was not Sean pulled me in, pulling down the top of my dress to expose my chest. His body was warm and hard behind me. He roughly groped me as my nipples reacted to the cooler air. Though appalled by this churlish behavior I was also quite into it judging by my wetness.

“I knocked,” I gasped.

“It’s just standard protocol. I’m checking for weapons.” Of course. “Ok, you’re good.” He let me go, but not before letting his hands linger on the velvet.

“No weapons,” he announced. Just this pussy, I thought, and I’d drop my weapon on him any day. I smirked. He led me to a large room with about 13 renaissance types seated around a table speaking casually. The table was set quite nicely with goblets, candles burning, and various snacks of the charcuterie variety.

They were mid-conversation. Sean was speaking.

“-Another big old safety hazard-“

“Sir you have a visitor.”

“What in the dungeons and dragons is going on?” I interrupt.

They looked up. Sean spoke, his strong fingers curling around his goblet, his lips curling towards his ears.

“We’re having a meeting. Though my doors are always open, what brings you on this fine evening?” ‘Fine evening’ I silently mock. You cursed me, you fucker. And you know it.

“It’s cold as fuck! It’s not a fine evening. And I’m here to…(I didn’t really get that far in my mind. Saying “You cursed me, undo the curse" seemed a bit trite.) “I’m here for revenge.”

“Oh a revenge fuck? Who are we seeking revenge on?” He answered. God I could fucking punch him.

“Stop with the games, Sean,” I said, more confidently than I felt.

“What? Are you lost? Do you need help getting connected to resources?” I thought I might really have to punch him. Someone would have to hold me back.

“Connected to resources? Connect your dick with my face!” I exclaimed.

“Well, then,” he said, taken aback as if he wasn’t the deeply troubled pervert here.

“I’m here 'cause I think you cursed me. I don’t know any other magical people so it’s got to be you.”

“Wasn’t me,” he said simply. But his smile said otherwise.

“Then explain this,” I said, holding up the amulet.

A single gasp came from the table.

“Marius, we discussed this,” Sean said reproachfully. “Remember the red herring? The decoy?”

“Oh yes. Right.” Marius apologized.

“I may have seen the amulet before, I may not have.” Sean went on. “I don’t know anything about a curse. Why are you actually here?”

I looked around at all the renaissance faces. Some were borderline pop punk/ steampunk but they all had at least one renaissance characteristic to them. I set the amulet down on the table in between some cheese platters and announced,

“I’m here to drain all of your balls.” What?! Rebecca, have you lost your mind? That is a lot of balls, the more rational part of me thought. Still another part wanted to eat the cheese.

“Is that so?” Piped Derek, amusement tingeing his voice. Derek was the kind, friendly one at the cash register who was nice to children. He had long hair and a goatee. But, because I was broken, I was obsessed with the dark brooding one who was not as friendly to children, or me for that matter.

“Even Laird?” Derek added.

“Who’s Laird?” I asked.

“I am. I have a third testicle.” A man from the back answered. He was spindly and slightly unkempt.

“Ew, Laird. Ew. There’s women here too,” came a woman’s voice. Two women I didn’t see raised their hands giving me pointed looks.

“Yes, well, you as well,” I said with false confidence.

“Don’t tempt me with a good time!” The second woman said. She laughed, and her shiny blond tresses waved around her chest. She looked like that animated character from Tangled. Rapunzel. In ripped tights, a corset under a flannel, braided headband over the forehead, and little booty shorts, she was every part my kind of woman.

I had recently been made aware of this aesthetic- indie sleaze.

“Do you all work at Costco then?” I asked nervously, shifting on my feet.

“Most of them, yes,” Sean answered in that voice like honey. “But I met Trish at sewing class. Emerson’s from the swordfighting league. I think that’s it.”

I would have to act soon if I was going to turn this around. I approached Rapunzel and knelt before her.

I ran my hands over her smooth muscled thighs.

“Mmm,” she moaned. I looked over the table at Sean-Renaissance Guy for approval and found a slight smile on his face, a sleepy look in his eyes. I didn’t care about the other lads watching, but if it made them hard for me, that was satisfying.

I started to remove the bike shorts, then the tights as she nodded and smiled her consent. I moved my mouth on her and tried to anticipate what would feel good.

She humped the air, trying to get her pussy closer to my face.

“So good,” she panted. I kept going. I heard pants unzipping, unbuttoning. Hands moving over skin. Rapunzel tasted faintly of avocado and came gripping the chair.

“Who’s next? I need more!” I declared.

I bent over and presented my holes to the crowd.

One of the men (Laird?) approached me from behind. He stopped, poised at the entrance.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Just fucking put it in,” I said.

The other woman (Trish, I think) came around to perch on the table while Derek started going down on her. Madness descended as cheese platters started to clatter to the floor. I was too busy getting properly fucked to care what Renaissance Guy was doing, but soon he was in my vision. He took the place of the hot doorman, who’d just finished in my mouth. Some cum had landed on my cheek and chin.

“You have a little something-“ he started, referring to my face.

I smirked and interrupted him by yanking his pants down. I sucked with a steady tenacity. I forgot where I was and for maybe a minute I wasn’t just some Jappy millennial from Long Island. When he got close, he stopped me and started fucking, my flank on the table, my face next to the remaining candles, now snuffed.

He fucked like an animal. He fucked like a man on the precipice of homelessness. He fucked like an addict, like an arsonist. He fucked like a feminist. He fucked like a released convict. He fucked like he was mentally ill. He fucked like he voted for Obama. His breath became ragged and mine came out in higher pitched frantic gasps.

I left, exhausted yet invigorated.