Fantasy Lane.

Follow the road of tranquility....

'The girls will be with you in a moment. Please make yourselves comfortable.'

He closes the door. Kate and I stand in the lamplit room, staring at each other, nothing but two futon beds on the floor to separate us.

'Okay. So, it looks like we're going to be naked together in the same room then,' Kate observes.

'I am not getting naked,' I retort.

We kick off our shoes.

'He gave no instructions!' Kate starts rummaging through the shelves for a clue. She finds a small pillowcase.

'The windows have been blacked out,' I mutter.

'I'm beginning to understand why this was so cheap,' Kate says.

'Shall we just strip down to our knickers?'

'Okay. Let's do this.'

Two days previously:

Kate and I are in a sex shop in Geelong called 'Fantasy Lane.'

It's a main road not a lane and unless 'Fantasy' is the same as 'Wipe Clean' this place should be investigated under the trades description act.

'Explain it to me again Kate?' I ask glancing nervously at the vast selection of battery powered merchandise.

'Apparently it vibrates at the same frequency as the vocal chords when singing.'

'Uhuh.'

'So you massage your throat with it whilst you're practising. It loosens everything up.'

'Uhuh. And you can't just buy any old vibrator?' (I suddenly think of a stall offering discounts on second hand vibrators and shudder.)

'No, it has to be a particular one. It looks like a small egg and the brand is called.....' she scrolls through her iphone, 'Lelo.'

'Okay. Go on then.'

'I can't go up to the counter, she's chatting to a couple. Its awkward.'

We stare at each other. We stare at the counter. I clear my throat.

'Fine,' I say, squaring my shoulders.

As I approach the counter I overhear a couple talking to the owner;

'And that one fitted like a glove didn't it Gary!'

'Er, hi,' I mumble.

'Hi!' The couple smile.

'Hey there, how're you going?' The shop owner smiles.

'Hi!' I say.

'Hi!' The couple smile.

'Hello,' the owner smiles. 'So...how can I help?'

I look to Kate. Kate looks to the novelty cock shaped cake tins.

'My friend here is looking for a Lelo vibrator for her - '

'Got 'em!' She certainly has a Can Do attitude.

'Oh great. She needs it for her - '

'We've got this one,' she pulls some monstrous looking device from a display cabinet and blows off the dust.

I recoil.

'It's for my throat,' Kate elucidates somehow managing to sound like a kindergarten teacher.

'Uhuh,' the shop owner leers.

As Kate explains the whole vibrations throat thing I take in the shop owner. She is in her late forties and she is without question a smoker. There is an empty space next to her mouth where in happier times a cigarette would permanently dangle. She has long middle parted straight hair dyed Vixen Black. Her roots are a full inch grey. She looks tired. And yellow. And like she's seen things she can never un see. She has a top on that's a kind of halter neck but with a large round silver coloured hoop in the front connected to a boob tube that is resisting gravity with a mutinous determination. The whole look is vaguely reminiscent of a dominatrix except she has topped it all off with a comfy knitted cardigan.

'Oh well isn't that interesting,' she says. 'I can use that as a selling point. So you're in a band are ya?'

'Uhm, well I'm a solo artist,' Kate murmurs.

I can almost read Kate's mind at this point. Last week she twittered a comical picture of herself on our flight to Perth wearing a 'Humidiflyer'. Just for shits and giggles really. Two days later its in the local paper and the company have contacted her to ask if they can use the image in their advertising.

And whilst there is nothing that would amuse me more than seeing Kate on a poster clutching a Lelo Egg with the caption “It really helps me hit the high notes!” I do feel for her. I'd hate to have to second guess myself like this. I'd be shit at it too, whereas Kate is quite mindful.

'So what's your name?' There's an opportunistic look in the woman's eyes.

'How much is it?' I ask.

'$155.'

'$155,' I repeat for no reason at all but she takes this to be an exclamation of shock and immediately lowers the price to $120. Bargain. No, really.

As Kate pays they talk a bit about The Voice, and stood there, surrounded by gags, whips,wipe clean catsuits and cheap crotchless netted knickers she sighs and, staring in to the distance, says 'I really like Harrison.'

'The one with the stutter?' I ask.

'Yeah,' she sighs again, 'he's lovely.'

Before we leave Kate has another quick glance around;

'It's my husband's birthday today. Do you have any birthday candles that aren't shaped like cocks?'

'No love, I'm afraid I don't.'

We leave.

Back to the present;

We have stripped down to our knickers and are lying under our towels when the two thai masseurs enter. They look momentarily surprised to see that we are women but cover it well.

I've never had a thai massage before. Earlier on Kate has told me that its referred to as a lazy persons yoga. We have opted for No Oil.

As the two women quite literally climb on top of us and start kneading our backs and legs they whisper to each other in their own language. I'm reminded of a podcast we listened to the other day that talked about a new craze called ASMR. Or not so new as it turns out. Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response. The short version is that people whisper and the frequency of the whisper causes small explosions of pleasure in the head which are by all accounts very difficult to describe but incredibly addictive. You can watch youtube videos of women whispering at you. Just telling you about their Gran's jewellery or that they are a nurse and they're going to take care of you. Its not sexual. They are VERY clear about that. But of course it is. Even if it isn't. If you know what I mean.

As the woman on my back sticks what I can only assume is a piece of molten lava shaped like a knuckle duster in to my spine, I wonder if Kate is thinking about ASMR too. (I checked later, and yes, she was.) Over the next hour we basically had seven bells of shit kicked out of us by two tiny but surprisingly strong women. I wouldn't say it was relaxing. I wouldn't say that at all. But afterwards we both agreed that we did feel we'd had a good workout and I certainly felt a bit taller. It's strange to lie down for an hour and still feel the burn of strenuous exercise.

'Kate.'

'What?'

'You know I'm going to write about this don't you?'

'Yeah I figured.'

'And the sex shop.'

'Yep.'

....and you shall find the facilities.