"Is this yours?"
I handed her what, I was pretty sure by that point, was a vibrator. Granted, it didn't look like a vibrator - it was more spherical and I couldn't see any way to turn it on... but maybe that was the point. Some vibrators aren't obviously sex toys to the casual observer. But, since I'm a sex blogger and additionally since this had fallen out of her bag, and she seemed moderately crestfallen that I'd picked her thingy off the floor, I was about 80% sure that this was, indeed, a vibrator: one that she was carrying discreetly just in case she needed it at any point during the day.
It happens, apparently.
I accepted her hurried thanks as she threw it back into her bag and put it from my mind, finishing all my tasks and going for lunch which, thankfully, was laid on for me - although it's not the best food in the world. It's free; that's what matters right now.
In the afternoon, her friend took something which looked exactly the same out of her bag, opened it with a turn, and ran the lipsalve over her mouth.
"Oh, it's lipsalve!" I ejaculated, while the inner me facepalmed about four million times.
"Yes - of course - we all have one. Why, what did you think it was?"
"Nothing in particular," I lied smoothly. "It looks a bit too big to be lipsalve."
"Well, that's what it is."
I turned my back to get back to my work. Nothing lost, nothing gained, I suppose. I just need to stop assuming everything has a sexual connotation.
I erotically picked up my magic wand of paper, unrolled it like fresh bedclothes and unleashed it upon the expectant throng.
"So, as I was saying..."