Oh, Rubber Ducky, you’re the one.
You make bath time lots of fun.

Especially when you whip out the handcuffs and ball gag.

Quack!

An old high school friend of mine recently opened up a shop devoted to the wares that bind and titillate and hum and zig and zag and slather and vibrate as if powered by Marquis de Energizer Bunny. It’s a ye olde shoppe devoted to exploration and education of delectation and tawdriness, and as far as I could tell when I hung around (stop it!) for a half-hour waiting for my friend to return to the store, its patrons seem delighted with the items on sale, and the knowledge for gratis.

So, if you’re in Kansas City and need something to help push your buttons (or someone else’s), take a stroll down to Wink, where you can squeal for delight at the great number of toys within, or do so with the help of a vibrator with, at last count, three motors and three million settings. (I might be off by a hundred. And you think I’m joking…)

Aside from the oils and other sybaritic delights peppered about the store, it was good to see Elizabeth again. Over the years, long past graduation, we’ve run into each other a handful of times, and each meeting is always memorable and a hoot. Elizabeth is definitely a one-of-a-kind, sweet gal whose presence always stirs up a cheery and charming je ne sais quoi. A fierce and dedicated compadre, it’s a delight to have known her this long, and I’ve little doubt that her little boy will grow up to reflect having such a groovy mom. So, I hope her new pleasure pad of play serves both her and her customers well for years to, um… come.

By the way, she’ll always be “Liz” to me. That’s how I first new her, and how I remember her the best. “Elizabeth” is a flow of fun syllables, no doubt, but “Liz” is a celebration of the zed, the omega of a seductive and serpentine dance all short and sweet.

You know, like her.