The Vibrator King
Merb Titlebaum was the vibrator king of the Midwest. In a small workshop beneath his store, which lay just outside of St. Louis, Missouri in University City, Merb created precision balanced machines guaranteed to give its user the desired effect. Women from all corners of the St. Louis Metropolitan area came to him to purchase that special little device that every girl needs. Then, after they rushed home with their purchases, tried them out for the first time, and left trails of mascara running down their cheeks from the tears of joy that inevitably followed a session with one of Merb’s creations, the women would tell their friends about his work. This created a steady flow of customers that allowed Merb to put three daughters through college (two doctors, one lawyer). In the thirty years he had been making vibrators, Merb had seen trends come and go and nothing surprised him anymore.When men started buying the devices for themselves, Merb didn’t bat an eyelash. He simply got out his anatomy book, made some drawings, and designed units that were a better fit than the ones he designed for women. When labels changed from sex toy to marital aide, Merb still simply called his creations “Vibrators.” When the internet came along and made it possible for people to buy a wide array of new machines from the anonymity of their own homes, Merb told his daughters not to worry, because real women wanted quality and the ones who didn’t want quality shouldn’t be his customers anyway. So when a reporter from the New York Times found her way into Merb’s sleepy Midwest store one Sunday afternoon, Merb treated her as if it were perfectly reasonable that she would want to interview him.
Madeline Smith had heard about Merb from a friend of hers at a party. This friend had moved to New York from St. Louis’ south side. One of the other guests, a completely horrid stand up comic, had made a joke about how a vibrator could never replace a man and her friend simply replied “You’ve never seen my vibrator.” Madeline laughed along with everyone else present, but her friend handed her Merb’s business card and said quietly “I’m serious. You should call him.”
Madeline made some phone calls and arranged to interview women in St. Louis, discreetly, and confirmed that everyone from punk rock feminists to vodka laden Ladue tennis wives viewed Merb as their personal patron saint of orgasms. The story had been an easy sell to her editor, a man who knew that any story about sex of any kind was guaranteed to sell copies. “The public cares about three things. Exploding, bleeding, or fucking. That’s what I want more of people!” he’d yell in their meetings. “Extra credit to anyone who brings me a store with all three.” So, the expense of flying to St. Louis and a decent hotel stay were money well spent to him.
Seated in the shop, hot cups of tea resting on the table between her and Merb, the pair were quite contrasting. She’d come to the interview dressed casually in jeans and a tank top, thinking the outfit appropriate. Her dark skin stood out against the white straps of her shirt. She’d been surprised to find Merb dressed in a three piece suit (“Who’d want to buy a vibrator from a guy that looks like a bum?” he’d later say), his white hair neatly combed back, and his face freshly shaved. Madeline pressed the record button on her dictation machine and started the interview. They talked about his family and his background, and she’d asked plenty of questions about the business, then she got down to what she really wanted to know.
“So,” she began, “what is so special about a Titlebaum vibrator.”
“Every thing is disposable today,” said Merb. “Disposable razors. Disposable phones. Look at the stuff they sell in the store down the road. Marital aids they call them. Cheap, plastic, clunky, one size fits all tubes. Practically disposable themselves.”
“And your vibrators are different?”
“Different? There’s almost no similarity. I use quality materials. I’m always studying how to use new polymers and searching for smoother working machinery. I constantly test gyros and weights, and motors to make sure they’re the best.” Merb drank from his tea.
“Well, there are high end sex toys out there,” offered Madeline.
“That’s the problem. They sell toys. Jokes. Cheap thrills.” Merb looked as if he wanted to spit. “I create a unique device for every woman who walks through that door. What they do with it…that’s special to me. If they’re not as happy as they should be, then my work wasn’t done well.”
“Really,” said the reporter, “we’re just talking about a stick that buzzes really fast. Aren’t we?”
“That’s what the porn stars and the deviants want you to think. No…these are not just sticks that vibrate. These are custom made and fulfill specific needs. I don’t sell a cheap way to get off. I sell women what they’re missing. I sell them what they want but won’t ask for, or can’t ask for.”
“How’s that?” Madeline asked, intrigued by how seriously the man seemed to take his business.
“Let me show you something.” Merb led the report to the counter and he walked behind the register and took a box from underneath. He set the box in front of Madeline. “What do you see here?”
Madeline reached into the box and pulled out a hot pink, bullet shaped, nine inch vibrator. She held it in her hands and examined it. It was a gaudy, hard, plastic thing that rattled when she shook it.
“Not very impressive is it?” asked Merb.
“Not especially,” she replied. She turned the knob at the bottom and a loud buzz emanated from the device.
“That just sounds terrible to me,” said Merb. “This is what they think women want. This cheap piece of crap should never be in your most intimate area. You’d get more satisfaction from sitting on top of a clothes dryer. Plus,” Merb took the vibrator from her and put it back in the box, “after thirty or so uses, this breaks.”
He set the box back under the counter and took out a steel briefcase. He placed the brief case in front of Madeline, adjusted the dials on the combination lock, and opened the case.
“This on the other hand, this is something to be proud of.”
Madeline reached into the case and removed the vibrator. As soon as she lifted it, the differences were obvious. Everything from the weight of the object to the texture was different. She could feel energy running through it even though it hadn’t been turned on yet.
“Incredible…” she said.
“Go ahead, turn it on.” said Merb.
When she couldn’t find the on button, Merb guided her hand to a series of indentations near the base. He pressed her fingers against the indentations and the machine came to life.
At first, Madeline wasn’t sure if it was actually on, since it was completely silent. What she felt wasn’t the cheap buzzing that the other vibrator performed. Instead, she felt pulse after pulse of energy starting from her hand and rippling through her body. Simply holding the machine made her flush slightly. At Merb’s direction, she set the device on the counter without turning it off. It sat there silent and unmoving.
“Wow…” said Madeline. “How does it do that?”
“Ah…that’s the trade secret.” Merb smiled. “I studied physics for years before I started doing this. When you read as much about how the universe around us works as I do, you learn a few things about energy transfer and such.”
“Well,” she said as she picked the still functioning vibrator up, “it certainly feels better than any other I’ve seen.”
”Hah!” Merb slapped the counter. “And that’s just from holding it.” He showed her how to turn it off. She sighed, slightly disappointed, as she place it back in the case.
“Also, this one wasn’t made custom for you. A custom designed model would feel a hundred times better. In fact, some women tell me that the simply turn it on and hold it like you did and it satisfies them.” Merb smiled.
“How exactly do you customize them? Size, color…” Madeline began.
“No, no, no, ” Merb made a face that showed distaste for the question. “Things like that are just unimportant.”
Madeline looked at him a bit incredulously.
Merb took a folder from beside the cash register, removed a sheaf of papers, and handed it to Madeline. “I use this.”
Expecting to see diagrams, schematics, anatomical drawings, and the like, Madeline was surprised to see what looked like a psychiatric profile instead.
“Describe your relationship with your parents?” she read aloud. “Does your current lover know your biggest fear?” she continued.
“Yes,” said Merb. “I’m not making replacements for human contact here. I’m trying to create machines that allow you to satisfy yourself. That’s the hardest for some people to do.”
Madeline continued down the list of questions. “You are in a desert, and you see a tortoise lying on its back…”
“That’s one of the more important questions on the list,” Merb said as he took the papers from her. “These let me calibrate everything to make sure that the proper pleasure centers are reached.”
“But what about things like desired speed options -” she was cut off.
“Unimportant. These aren’t blenders and you aren’t a fruit smoothie. The profile I take has over two hundred questions. By the time you’re done, I know everything I need to know.”
“But…” she began.
“No buts about it,” said Merb. “Gay, straight, dom, sub,” he adjusted his tie, “no one is left unsatisfied. I even make a line of devices for men only.”
“Well, the clients who’ve agreed to be interviewed sure seem happy.” Madeline turned off her tape recorder.
“I was wondering though,” she began to ask.
Anticipating her question, Merb gave her a blank profile and a number two pencil.
“I’ll make some more tea,” he said and he left her alone to answer the questions.
