THE VIBRATING BANANA

I visited the Pleasure Chest the other day. It hadn't changed much since the last time I was in one. I asked the woman behind the counter if I could take photos. She wanted to know why. She explained that if I was going to, say, take a photo of something on my iPhone and send it to someone to see if I should buy it, that was fine. But if I wanted to take photos of -- and, here, she kind of waved her arm at the rows of porn videos, and the shelves of dildos, and the displays of lube -- then the answer was no.