The Womanizer Premium and the Foxy arrived today in a prettily wrapped box with some complimentary extras. Ignoring latter items I immediately set the pleasure tools charging on the countertop right next to the table where I was hammering away on two laptops, the one displaying some energy draining legal document I was meant to be working on, the other showing my investment portfolio, the managing of which I was devoting most of my time and acuteness of mind to. Three hours later I absconded to an upstairs bathroom, clutching the foxy little lilac Foxy vibrator in my slightly damp hands. The cats, though nonplussed by my dreamstate erraticness, related at the level of animal instinct they felt (from a cat’s perspective) I had risen to. I put the freshly charged Foxy to work on the inside and the outside of me. It delivered in mere minutes.
The Womanizer Premium is still sitting on the countertop downstairs. Given its design I’m confident that someone visiting me unexpectedly will be none the wiser if I tell them it’s the newest in ear thermometers.