The Ghost in the Sex Shop

After my divorce a few years ago I moved to Grand Forks, North Dakota and sold dildos for a summer.

The store was called Romantix, and it was run by my manager, a naive 21 year old woman and a slightly older woman named Zofia who was a little more cultured to the finer things in life.

I wrote, “New Guy” on my name tag, so I was New Guy.

While training me, Zofia would ask me questions all day like, “You into blood play?”

“Do you like pain, New Guy?” Etc. She was always asking what my dick looked like. Your usual sexist sexual harassment. So it goes.

Anyway, just setting the scene. For it was a strange summer before the whole ghost thing.

I’m alone. It’s probably a Thursday night and we’re dead. Romantix was open til bar close, and it was maybe 10 pm when it started.

I figured it’s an old building, it’s probably haunted.

“Hey if there’s any ghost here, reveal yourself.”

Ten feet away some lingerie began to slowly, but deliberately swing back and forth on the rack.


“Is that all you got you fucking pussy?”

Now we kept a cache of batteries next to the register in case the patrons wanted to see the product working before they purchased it.

That moment, a battery Fucking Explodes and shoots six feet away, knocking over a dildo-a-labra. Like one of those spinning slats with dildos up each side.

So. Be nice to spectres.

I told it I believed it and that was the last I saw of it.

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