I was as nervous as anyone would be when starting a new job, and had no idea what to expect when I walked through the shuttered door of the nondescript shop in my small home town. Stifling a gasp, I took in my surroundings: in front of me was a wall of vibrators in every conceivable size and colour. Poking my head around a curtained-off area, I was confronted by a small library of porn DVDs, with titles ranging from the salacious (Fetish Fanatic) to the silly (Kung-Fu Pussy). In the "novelty" section, a barbecue apron with plastic boobs caught my eye, while on a nearby shelf, I noticed an array of libido-boosting lotions and creams.

As the co-worker who let me in left me there -alone -to start my first eight-hour shift, I slumped behind the counter and thought, "What have I done?" I was in my late 20s and, on a whim, I'd accepted this job as a salesperson at the only sex shop in town, having grown bored of bookkeeping work. A friend had suggested the position and I thought, "Why not?" But while the shop was bright and clean -not dark and dingy as I'd expected -I immediately had second thoughts.

It suddenly hit me: I wasn't qualified to recommend vibrators or talk porn with complete strangers. While I'm no prude, I'd been brought up in quite a conservative family and had followed a traditional path: I married my childhood sweetheart -the only man I'd ever slept with -and had two children I doted on. And while I had experimented with a few sex toys in the past, I'd never before encountered something as confronting as the fist-shaped dildo now staring me in the face.

"It's just a job," I reminded myself, as a ringing bell signalled that my first customers had arrived. Like most people, I imagined sex shop customers would fit the "old man in dirty raincoat" stereotype. But, straightaway, I was proved wrong. In walked a young, perfectly normal-looking married couple around my age. They were well dressed and knew exactly what they wanted. Without even clearing his throat, the man said, "We'd like to experiment with anal sex. We need some advice."

I swallowed hard, and instantly thought of my mum and the look of horror that would cross her face if she were in my position right now. Mum, a well-known, respected member of the community, was so ashamed of me taking this job that she sidestepped the issue with friends and, with a pinched expression, simply told them I was "in retail". Dad was equally unimpressed, but decided the best way to deal with it was by saying nothing.

I stared dumbly at the couple and, with a pasted-on smile, directed them to the "anal section", where I showed them a dildo that wasn't too big or scary (I've since discovered that heterosexual men are just as keen to try anal sex as women). They left the shop feeling really comfortable, but I felt sick. I always thought anal sex belonged in porn movies, not suburban bedrooms. I had a lot to learn.

The lessons came daily. While there were more mundane aspects of my job, such as ordering stock and keeping accounts, most of my day was spent serving customers intent on spicing up their sex lives. After a while, nothing shocked me, but the first few times I encountered what I then considered abnormal behaviour, I was too stunned to speak.

One day, a man who did fit my "raincoat" stereotype walked in and spent hours in the DVD room. I poked my head in, saw that he was pleasuring himself and immediately rang my boss, who told me to tell him off. Too scared to do so at the time, I waited until his next visit and told him sternly, "I hope you're not going to muck around in there today." He still does it; he's just more discreet. Then there was the day I was given a blow-by-blow account of one guy's anal fisting experiment. He was so proud that he'd been able to fit a female-sized hand up there. Me? I just smiled sweetly and choked back the revulsion I felt.

The shop's clientele ranges in age from 18 to 90, but the core clients are 20 to 40 year olds. I've had every type of customer: some who are open and happy to tell me anything, while others put their head down and mumble out of embarrassment. In three years, I've progressed to manager and I've come to know most of them really well. Men and women consider me an expert on sex and confide in me the most personal details.

Little do they know that because my husband and I are usually so exhausted from working and looking after the kids that sex is not exactly at the top of our list of things to do. So I just nod knowingly when they tell me, "My wife doesn't dish out enough," or "He ejaculates too quickly." I reassure them that it's perfectly normal and happens to everybody -after all, I hear it every day.

Being in a small town, confidentiality is a job requirement. I've had important members of the community confide some of the strangest fetishes, like the man who enjoys having his testicles trod on by high heels. Others indulge in cross-dressing or extreme bondage and torture, and one guy even asked me to take a photo of his naked bum for him to send to a girl he practised S&M with.

We also have male customers who enjoy wearing ladies' underwear. Some of them will say, "I'm picking this up for my wife," while others, like the young gay guy who has a penchant for pink frilly G-strings, are more honest about their intentions. It's the same with blow-up dolls, which are a popular item, and personal masturbators. We sell a lot of those at $100 a pop, but most guys will smirk and say, "It's for my mate's 21st." A lot of guys go into the DVD room and come out with hands in pockets, hiding erections.

When dealing with customers, it's vital that I remain straight-faced and say in a calm voice, "You'd be surprised how many people do it." Admittedly, I find some behaviour strange and can't help thinking, "You sicko!" about certain customers -like the 60-something man who tells me about doing it doggy style with his wife one night and a prostitute the next.

But I can stomach hearing most things -except cheating. Recently, the father of a girl I grew up with started telling me about his long-term mistress. When I next had coffee with his daughter, I was distracted and frustrated that I couldn't tell her the truth about her dad. But if I did, word would get around and none of my customers would trust me again. I'm also constantly being harassed by friends demanding to know who comes into the shop and what they buy, but I put them in their place by saying, "If you came into the store, would you like me to tell everybody?"

Daily, I experience a mixture of emotions. I've got some wonderful customers, but have been harassed by others. Because I work in a sex shop, people assume I'm a sex worker, but that's far from the case. I'm a happily married mother who, on her days off, helps out at the local primary school. But that doesn't stop men from suggesting that we "go out the back for a quickie", asking me out for dinner, or trying to touch my breasts. Most times I deal with it myself, but I called the police once when a particular guy started threatening me.

Dealing with difficult customers is not the only pitfall. I've lost friends because they didn't want to be seen with me in the street, lest I be recognised by a customer. And when I went to post a job ad with a local recruitment agency, I was looked up and down and told, "We don't deal with your kind here." I was appalled, but not surprised. One girl who left her résumé with me asked, "Do you have to have sex with people?" That's a common one; many people assume I'm selling more than sex toys. I'm astonished by those attitudes. I've had people walk through the door and spit out the worst vitriol. Little do they know that it's their next-door neighbour, the upstanding community fundraiser or even their grandmother who frequents the shop, and that I'm just servicing their needs.

All of that aside, I've also been heartened by the wonderful people I've met. My most memorable day was when two 80-something ladies came in asking about a vibrator -one was married, one widowed. They told me they'd been flicking through a women's magazine, noticed an ad for a sex toy and thought they might like to try one out. They were just gorgeous and we spent the next two hours discussing the pros and cons of each model, as they vibrated away on the counter.

As for me, I have gradually become a lot more adventurous. I like to try out new products and my personal selection of sex toys has expanded. My husband, who is the envy of all his friends, is a very willing participant!

Looking back, I no longer recognise that shy woman who walked through the door on my first day. I can talk freely -expertly, even -on any sex-related topic, from my favourite porn star Belladonna's newest flick to the latest in clit-tickling technology. Now, when a customer asks if a libido-enhancing cream works, I can say with authority that it does.

Working in a sex shop has given me some incredible insights into human behaviour. I've seen the best and worst in people and have learnt to be open-minded. What I've realised is that we're all everyday people who are just after some good, dirty fun.