'Why, oh why did places like these have chimes over the door?' Michael wondered to himself as he walked in, certain every eye in the place suddenly turned and labeled him a pervert. Of course, who were they to judge anyway? If they were already here, whatever brush he was painted with, applied to them as well, right? He took a deep breath, nodded to the lady behind the counter, then started to look around.<br/><br/>Michael was a good looking young man, despite his obvious nerves. Short brown hair, athletic build, but not bulky, like a runner perhaps, brown eyes. Someone looking very close would see a pair of contacts, and his body language suggested they were a new addition, as he occasionally reached up to adjust glasses that weren't there. He was wearing a simple pair of jeans and a university sweatshirt and seemed to be mesmerized or a bit intimidated by the wide array of inflatable dolls, latex vaginas, and penis pumps arrayed on the wall before him.