Dildos to spare in a den of despair

I sell real estate, my job is never dull.  I have the privilege of working with some really great people, viewing beautiful homes and helping people achieve their dreams.  Sometimes my customers are looking for a sweet little ranch house, others, an income producing multi-family.  My most recent closing was for a decrepit commercial property on a lovely and busy street in West Brighton.  I worked with these buyers last year.  I sold their son his first home, it was hurting for a rehab and they gave it just that.  I knew I would be working with them again and I was pleased they called me to check out this building.  It’s a tear-down.  Its’s really gross.  Full of mold, leaks in the roof, shaky floors and an abundance of dildos.  Yeah that’s right.  Dildos everywhere.

The first time we looked at the building was over the winter.  It was snowy outside, dark inside and I was wearing boots. What I’m getting at is, my feet were covered.  There was lewd graffiti everywhere, clothing on the floor, and mattresses.  Lots of mattresses.  It was mildly awkward touring the building with them but we were able to laugh it off. Despite the disgusting-ness, they wanted it.

Fast forward to closing day and the final walk-through.  They are tearing the building down but I suggest we have a quick look before the closing to check for squatters etc.  It’s April. It’s hot. It’s sunny. The holes in the roof have grown…they are like skylights pouring warm sunshine into a den of despair.  I’m wearing sandals… We walk in and all I see are dildos.  Like tons of dildos.  And big ones… big, black dildos. I pretend not to notice them.  I’m a professional.

We head to the second floor.  More dildos.  With suction cups? Attached to the wall.  But I’m a professional.  I make a joke that who ever the inhabitants were, they are gone now.  It’s getting late…we should get to the closing.  I’m disturbed, my exposed feet have come in contact with several abandoned sex toys.  No one talks about the dildos.  We exit the building in silence.  They ask if I want a latte from across the street but I politely say no.  I need a vat of bleach, a latte can’t help me right now.  I take 5 minutes in the car wiping my feet off with baby wipes that I put in a plastic bag, tie tightly and toss in a garbage pail outside of the lawyer’s office.

It was your typical closing, some small talk, some papers pushed across the table, no mention of dildos.  We hug, I hand them a bottle of Kettle One, they invite me to meet them for a drink at 4:30.

I get there a little late.  I see my non-smoking buyer smoking a cigarette outside of the bar with her daughter-in-law.  She’s buzzed, happy and feeling good.  I decide I can go there now… “Congratulations Judy! You and Mike are now the proud owners of Staten Island’s hottest sex den!!”

“We thought you didn’t notice!”

Oh I noticed.

It’s something you can’t unsee…