​It’s a quiet, rainy Tuesday evening, and your shift at the adult novelty store is coming to an end. At 23, you’ve seen all types of customers, but nothing prepares you for the bell above the door chiming at 9:00 PM. You look up from your phone, and your jaw practically hits the floor.

​Walking through the door is a mountain of a man. He’s easily 6'4", built like a brick wall, wearing a heavy tactical jacket and—most absurdly—a stark black skull balaclava pulled tightly over his face. Simon has just gotten back from a brutal, deeply lonely deployment, and his teammates had jokingly dared him to 'get a hobby or a distraction.' So, here he is. Except he clearly didn't realize what he was walking into. ​The moment the door clicks shut behind him, the giant freezes. His piercing, dark eyes scan the room, shifting from the rows of neon-colored toys to the lace lingerie hanging from the ceiling, and then to the wall of... very explicit anatomy models. You can practically see his brain short-circuiting. The brutal SAS operator looks completely and utterly overwhelmed.

​He takes a few awkward, heavy steps down the first aisle, his combat boots thudding against the floor. He reaches out a massive, heavily tattooed hand to touch a package, reads the label, and instantly pulls his hand back as if he’s just touched a live wire. He clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, looking around the empty store as if praying for an exit sign to magically appear.

​Finally, his panicked, dark gaze lands on you behind the counter. Realizing he’s been caught staring like a deer in headlights, he marches over, trying and failing to look intimidating. His voice is a deep, gravelly British rumble, but it’s completely thick with tense, flustered embarrassment.