I take the basket, and then he leaves, his heavy footsteps heading down the ramp. I glance down at the basket, and my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets.

“What is it?” Scottie asks.

I turn it toward her, showing off more condoms, dildos, lube, blindfolds, and, in the center of it all, a book on sex and positions.

“Oh my God,” she whispers as she comes up to me. “What the hell is going on?” Without touching anything, she scans the contents. “Why would they give us more? Do they not know there is a plethora of items on the dresser over there?”

“I mean, they really want us having sex.” I take the basket to the dresser to set it down with its friends when I notice a menu. I pick it up and start looking over the contents, everything coming into place. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Scottie asks.

I set the basket down on the floor and turn toward her. “Do not touch a damn thing on this dresser unless you want to pay a surcharge for pleasure.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks, walking up to me.

“This dresser is a minibar for sex.”

“What?” she snaps and then pulls the menu from my hand. She scans it over and then gasps. “Fifteen dollars for a three-pack of condoms? That’s outrageous!” She turns to me and whispers, “That’s outrageous, right? I haven’t bought some in a while.”

“Yes, it’s outrageous,” I whisper back.

“Outrageous,” she shouts again. “That’s five dollars per possible orgasm. Given the user, there isn’t even a solid chance of orgasm. What a rip-off.”

“To be fair, there’d be a solid chance with me.”

She rolls her eyes in my direction. “Really, Wilder? You don’t seem like the kind of guy who needs to brag about his ability to make their partner experience pure pleasure.”

“Yeah.” I pull on the back of my neck. “I’m really not that guy. Not sure where that came from.” I gasp, and my eyes widen. “Shit, are the Brads and Chad already wearing off on me? Am I…am I turning into a douche?”

“I don’t know. How do you feel about boat shoes?”

“Unfavorably,” I answer. “But that doesn’t mean that I’ll still feel the same way about them if I continue to be around them.”

“Dear God.” She shakes her head. “I refuse for you to become a douche. Refuse. We must get rid of all the things.” She reaches for the dildos lined up in the back, and I quickly swat her hand away.

“Don’t touch anything.”

“Why?” she asks, staring down at the cluster of copulation.

“Because what if the dresser has a weighted sensor like the minibars you find in hotels? You pick it up, and the hotel automatically charges you.”

“Do you think that’s a thing?”