“What the hell is that?”
I jumped out of bed and ran to the closet, having no idea what the sound could be. It got louder as I opened the door.
Finally, I located the source of the racket. My Bodygroomer. After 3 days of sitting untouched on a shelf, with no one anywhere near it, somehow it had turned itself on.
Of course this happened while there was a trick in my bed. I was mortified. And then, it got worse.
“What IS that?” called my fling.
“Is that, like, a sex toy?”
“No-no,” I yelled, slamming the device against the shelves. No help. I flipped it over to remove the batteries. No battery cover. It’s rechargeable. And apparently, it was full of juice.
“Do you need help?”
“No! I’m fine!” I called, and finally shoved the wicked thing in between some towels, with a huge pile of clothes on top of it.
Still audible, but better. I returned to bed.
“Sorry,” I muttered, “That was... ah... I have this… um… I’m not sure…”
He looked at me. “Do you HAVE any sex toys?”
7 hours later, long after the boy had left, the evil groomer stopped clamoring. I dug it out from under the towels, and promptly threw it away. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if, three days later, it somehow magically brought itself back to life again, and is currently sitting in some landfill in Staten Island, buzzing away.