This past weekend, I headed south down I-85 to Georgia for some resting and relaxing. On the way to the Peach State, a billboard in South Carolina caught my eye. It was at Exit 100 in Cherokee County advertising Bedtyme Stories, an adult store. You know, my kind of place. On the advertisement there was a sexy lady in an animal print bra and garter belt with hose and some CFM pumps.
I wanted it. I told my companion, "We're so stopping there on the way back to Charlotte."
Of course, I got no arguments. So, Saturday evening, we were on our way back to the Q.C. and made the stop. Now, I've been to interstate adult stores before, and they are usually dark, gritty and kind of scary. This place, though, was well lit. The shop also featured a nice selection of toys and lingerie, but something was missing ... and I couldn't put my finger on it as I walked around the store. Then we headed for the DVD section. Looking through the porn, I saw a cover that grabbed my attention for all the wrong reasons. It wasn't the title or the actress on the front that made me take notice; it was because it said "Cable."
"Cable?" I thought. "What is this like the stuff they show at night on Showtime and Cinemax (aka Skin-emax)?" As I looked at the movies, I saw ALL of them had the cable stickers. How does hardcore porn get a made-for-TV version? As I walked up to the register to pay for the item that I'd purchased, I was surprised to see a Love Machine behind the counter. The two cashiers were very nice, so I asked them, "What is 'cable' porn?"
The male cashier said, "They show almost everything except penetration. We can't sell those movies here or bondage equipment."
I snapped my fingers, "That's what's missing."
"Yep," said the female cashier, "no whips or chains or blindfolds."
I turned to my companion and shook my head. "And," the male cashier said. "We had to get stripper licenses to work here."
"Are you kidding me?" I asked incredulously. "First of all, why do you need a stripper license? "
"County rules," the female cashier said. "And it's not like we're taking our clothes off."
"It's crazy," the male cashier said as he handed my my merchandise.
Only in South Carolina, I thought as I smiled. As me and my companion headed out the door, I was tapped on my shoulder. "What?" I asked.
"Did you notice the Love Machine behind the register? They can't sell real porn, but they can sell a Love Machine?"
All I could do was laugh.
Just in case you don't know, the Love Machine is a vibrator on steroids.
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