“I think it’s hysterical,” Marley said, also staring at it.

“Me, too,” Molly agreed. She snapped a pic with her phone. “My Insta-fans are going to love it.”

Della’s discreet trip to Frieda’s Palace had turned into a sex shop road trip for five. All it was missing was a bride-to-be and a pitcher of margaritas. But the more the merrier, as far as she was concerned. Hopefully everyone would be too busy to notice her lack of experience where female pleasure items, as Rosemary kept calling them, were concerned.

“It’s quite hypnotic,” Winona added as they all took a moment to admire the rotating Trojan.

Rosemary was the first to break the inertia. “Well, come on, ladies…this list”—she pulled out a piece of paper and waved it in the air—“is burning a hole in my pocket.”

Winona laughed, sliding her arm through Rosemary’s. “Mrs. Forbes, you and I need to talk,” she said as they set off together.

Della tagged along beside Molly and Marley, who eagerly followed the leaders as they chatted happily about specialized lingerie and chocolate body paint. Within thirty seconds, they were at the doors, and Della took a deep steadying breath as she entered the shop.

Taking Selena’s concern about the potential triggers of such a shopping experience into account, she’d googled sex shops to prepare herself for what she might find, which included YouTube videos to familiarize herself with the general layout.

All of the images and video footage she’d seen were of cluttered shop spaces and packed shelves. Tacky displays of vibrators, nipple clamps, and butt plugs all mounted on walls like the power tool display at Home Depot. Blow-up dolls hanging from the ceiling like giant Halloween spiders. Aisles of pornographic DVDs and racks and racks of risqué costumes for special adult dress-ups.

Not so Frieda’s.

Given the giant prophylactic on the roof, Della had expected palace to be ironic, but it was actually…classy. An upmarket brothel compared to a free window peep show. There was sumptuous carpet and fancy shelving and zero clutter. The displays were subtle rather than tacky, and the lighting was subdued. A multitude of quality display fixtures and elegant drawers showcased artfully placed wares, and some kind of classical music was being piped through the speakers.

It was like shopping at an Ethan Allen as opposed to Big Lots.

Not a blow-up doll in sight.

And it was surprisingly roomy. Deceptively so. From the outside, the shop didn’t look that big, but inside, it was quite spacious. Like a TARDIS. For the sexually adventurous Time Lord.

“Man,” Winona said. “I feel like I’ve fallen down the triple X-rated version of the rabbit hole.”

Rosemary held up a skimpy pair of red lacy panties with Eat me embroidered across the front in gold thread from a nearby rack. “Ray’s going to love these.”