A Trip to the Mall--or, the Pervertible Gift Guide

So maybe it's just me, but after a day trip to the IKEA and the giant mall adjoining, I've realized that I now see things through different eyes. Or at least on different levels. On one level, I was a girl looking for Christmas presents. On the other, everything I saw looked like something useful for a scene.

Maybe I'm jumping the gun here, but the Swedish Modern wicker lounge chairs? So easy to tie someone to, and the angle is perfect for that semi-sitting sex with the girl on top. All IKEA furniture is kind of like this: it's sturdy yet portable, and each piece has a cutout, or a nook, or a post, that would be perfect for stringing or tying. If that's not badass enough, downstairs in the random stuff section, they have all kinds of ropes and springy nylon cords.

In the kitchen section, they have these things that I think are whisks, but the handles are plastic and the whisk wires are made out of rubber and all lie along one flat plane. When my friend and shopping companion turned around, I did an experimental slap on the inside of my forearm and left a pretty impressive stinging red mark that vanished a few minutes later. Nice. And that's not even mentioning the strings of pinching clothespins in the home office section: perfect for organization, or possibly torture.



Lots of the other knickknacks I couldn't put a purpose to, but I had the feeling that in exactly the right scene they'd be perfect. Examples: these cute little potato peelers and bottle openers with sleek laquered handles; some tiny desk lamps with super-long, super flexible necks; and of course, the charming ceiling-hung inflatable chair/nest/pod in the children's section.

After eating some Swedish meatballs and buying a few tchotchkes, my companion and I went to the mall. After some unsuccessful clothes-shopping, we wandered into the Spencer's, mostly because I'd never been in one. I was kind of in awe: there were lots of strobe lights and black t-shirts, like a Hot Topic only with more sex. I headed straight to the back, figuring that was where they'd keep the good stuff, the kinky stuff.

It was, and the stuff was okay, I suppose. I've been spoiled by the sex shop in my Big City, so the little poorly-lit corner looked kind of bland. There were a few things I coveted: the under-the-bed bondage system, for example, which is cheaper there than I've seen online. But the floggers, the restraints, the goofy plastic handcuffs--it was all lacking something. Bright colors, maybe, or minimalist Swedish craftsmanship, or cute names like LÄROSTOL. Or a reasonable price of $3.99.