Jason Derulo is a musical genius. Like, for realsies.

And while I’m at it, so is Jon Bellion. Straight motherfucking geniuses.

My adventure starts out normal enough: February 2017 Pet of the Month Uma Jolie glides into my office and gives me a warm hello. Then she learns she’s the real live human laboratory Pet who will be helping me test out the remote controlled, sound-activated OhMiBod Club Vibe panty wiggler. In public. She smiles, but her face is painted with disenchantment and a pinch of what-the-fuck-did-I-just-get-myself-into.

We unpack the vibe together. Remote control, USB cable, instruction manual, the buzzy pleasure-egg thingy, and a one-size-fits-all thong that looks gigantic. Thankfully, looks can be deceiving, and the panty-with-a-pleasure-pocket fits her just fine (or so I assume; I didn’t follow her into the bathroom).

With the panty vibe in place and the remote control linked, Uma and I wander around Penthouse HQ looking for trouble… and ambient noise. Sadly, we find neither. We need to get out into the wild and open this thing up. The selling point behind this humming wonder is not only that it’s sound-activated, but that the vibrator reacts differently to different types of sounds — tone, volume, octave, intensity, highs, lows, you get it. Science, amiright?

We walk around a nearby outdoor plaza, Uma’s naughty bits bumbling with passing cars, overheard conversations, and an occasional dog barking. But while this is a unique way to feel sound, Uma’s and my disappointment grows. She says the vibrator feels great, but it’s not so much a sexual experience as a good way to kill a few hours with an otherwise intolerable human being. Discouraged, we decide to hit up a restaurant and grab lunch.

Lunch. The meal that changes everything.

For Uma, and I assume most women, it’s not just about physical stimulation, but mental stimulation as well — finding the right trigger to set the mood.

It’s the middle of the day… on a Wednesday. So naturally, I get distracted by the drink menu. After all, I’m a — cough — journalist, so day-drinking is pretty much mandatory. Our server introduces herself as Jamie, rambles through the specials, and makes a few recommendations. Uma is lost — her eyes are locked on the cute, twentysomething part-time waitress. She needs a minute.

“Holy shit, Uma. It just got real,” I realize aloud. “You like her. Her voice… she was making it shake, wasn’t she!”

Uma smacks my arm hard and grins. “Get out of my brain, Raphie.”

Now we’re getting somewhere! Uma has a thing for this girl. An attraction which — coupled with Uma’s secret little beaver-buzzer that fluttered with the cadence of Jamie’s sweet voice — is making it difficult for Uma to focus on the important things… like her lunch order. Over the course of the hour, I watch with pure delight as Uma flushes whenever Jamie visits our table and speaks to us. I feel like a little kid with a grownup secret.

For Uma, and I assume most women, it’s not just about physical stimulation, but mental stimulation as well — finding the right trigger to set the right mood. (I’M JUST LEARNING THIS SHIT NOW?!) And perky, unsuspecting waitress Jamie is the perfect trigger. Now… how to build on this momentum and take things to the next level? Jamie is the most logical choice, but she has to ditch work and get to class for a midterm (seriously?), so we’re back to square one.

Uma and I get into my car and drive back to the office. Then, a revelation. Let’s see what type of music Uma reeeeaaaally likes. She says she likes A Tribe Called Quest’s “Can I Kick It?” but I figure out she doesn’t like it like it. Twenty One Pilots gets us a little closer, but that shit is so weak. How about another throwback — “Wanted (On the Run)” by Beanie Sigel featuring Cam’ron? (Jesus. Did I just refer to a song released in ’05 as a “throwback"?) Closer still, but not quite right.

Finally, a secret weapon: Jason Derulo’s “Trumpets.” A song with such depth, texture… brilliance. As the intensity of the track builds to its impending crescendo, Uma closes her eyes, bites her knuckle, and I know it has her. Brass horns stab forcefully behind the beat. Background vocals dart in and out of the song, with Derulo’s falsetto hugging the snare’s quirky slapback — building, creating tension, pounding irregularly. It’s too much. Uma seizes and sputters, sweat collecting in the crease above her upper lip, audible sighs and whispers over the blaring sex-anthem. Fucking Jason Derulo.

For all I know, Uma is still asleep in the front seat of my car.

OhMiBod Club Vibe 3.OH $119 ohmibod.com

PHOTO: Chad Lee