The long red line on his hand swelled open, spilling scarlet down his wrist and onto the counter where he had dropped the blade. He let out a grunt of aggravation as he reached for a cloth to use as a compress. Whoever drempt up such an idea to encase a razor in this plastic, that you would cut yourself attempting to gain access to the blade itself? The bleeding shortly subsided, but Ichabod noticed with each movement of his thumb, the blood would slowly make it's way through the slit again.
This will require a bandage, he thought. He knew Ms. Mills would have something of use, perhaps some of those small sticky ones he had saw her use at the police station. Holding the cloth to the injury again, he started searching the small lavatory; rummaging through the shelves filled with pastel bottles of scented cremes and soaps. Crane disliked being left to his own devices in Ms. Mills home, he could find nothing and felt uncomfortable going through her personal belongings. Under the sink he found what looked to be a box of bandages and pulled them out. "16 pads" he mumbled thoughtfully. What use did Ms. Mills have for padding? He pulled out a crinkling plastic square, examined it and placed it on the basin. Upon closer inspection of the box, he realized the purpose of the small blue packets and quickly replaced it into the box, almost throwing it back under the basin. That would be most inappropriate to use. Adding insult to injury, indeed.
The last of the shelves were behind the door where Ms. Mills kept her linens. Stacks of towels and washcloths, bedding and toilet paper. On the bottom shelf sat another plastic crate with a lid. Kneeling, he pulled the box from the shelf and sat onto the floor. Popping the latches on each side, he cast aside the cover in hopes that inside would be something of use. Turning to the box, flustered and mouth agape, he saw a box full of phallic shapes in bold colors. Gingerly he picked one up, a small hard purple stick with the tip curved at a right angle. Returning that one, he picked up another with his injured hand, the search for bandaging forgotten. This one, a royal blue phallus, was decorated with thick, rippling veins and possessed a girth more appropriate in a stable than a bed. Quite stunned at the thought of Ms. Mills utilizing something of this magnitude, he dropped it back into the box. Through his fascination, the thought was realized that these were private things he should not be touching and plundering through. But before he could follow the thought through, his eyes were taken by something else. This one was large and pink, with a square buttoned handle and a very odd shape. Inside were round pearls aligned in rows towards the base with a protruding shape that had 2 small appendages extending out. Holding it outright, he slowly tilted his head with curiosity at the funny shape, attempting to reason what purpose this part had. Was that...a hare? He gently grazed the 'ears' with his index finger, tickling the tip with the firm but pliable pink protrusions. Intrigued, he pressed the small button located atop the handle. The funny textured object whirred to life, the curved tip of it wobbling and the strings of pearls rotating simultaneously. The next button caused it to reverse its rotation. Mashing another button, the small pink rabbit at the base began to hum, it's ears blurry from the vibration. Again he touched an index finger to the ears and quickly pulled it back from the intense sensation. Ichabod was now fairly certain he understood what that part was for and was quite intrigued. Though since awaking he'd had little interest in relations, it would be downright lying to say he wasn't consumed with want to see how a woman's body would react to such a device. The thought of a woman, spread over a bed with such a thing between her thighs, making all those delightful noises women make, had him magnificently hard immediately. Instinctively, he palmed himself through his trousers, which were pulled taught and askew. Flushed with a wave of desire on the floor of Ms. Mills bathroom, he closed his eyes and palmed at the hardness trying to escape his trousers again, eliciting a noise from his own throat but to no relief.
"Cra-aane..."
Crane jolted from his reverie but not before Ms. Mills appeared in the doorway.
"Cra...", her voice stopped mid-call as she saw Ichabod in the floor with her box of toys. "What the hell?" she asked, shocked and eyes wide.
Ichabod jumped from the floor, the forgotton phallic objects falling from his lap and scattering on the floor. Instinctively, his hands went to his trousers in an attempt to hide the erection pushing at the fabric.
"Uh, um... Miss Mills," he blurted with embarrassment, his humiliation rising red in his cheeks. "I was... I've cut my hand and require a bandage" he finished, fixing his gaze on the space over her shoulder.
She ran a palm down her face and let out a exasperated sigh. "Crane, the bandaids are in the damn kitchen, in the cabinet over the sink." She shook her head in confusion and walked away, leaving Ichabod standing, feeling ridiculous, in the bathroom surrounded by brightly colored penises.
He closed his eyes. I'd have done well to have just used the feminine pads, he thought.