If you ever met me, I wouldn’t strike you as the kind of person who would write about BDSM. Unlike many of the stereotypes that fill TV screens, there is nothing about me that even remotely indicates what I do at home. I dress casual, I act casual and I am not tattooed or kitted with masses of body modifications that might provoke an undesirable opinion of me. On the whole, I conduct myself like the kind of person, at least I hope, that makes a positive contribution to our society. The image that I put forward is not one that tells anything about the other sides of me, or what I write about on our blog.
In the latest lockdown, I’ve been going shopping once a fortnight with my mother. Arguably, it probably is against the lockdown rules, but she takes me as my carer. I carried a Sunflower Scheme lanyard for a time because of my ataxia, but there are so many other couples and families still shopping together (and going unchallenged!) that I leave that at home now and we haven’t had any problems. At worst, I still have my handy homemade card in my phone case that I can pop out if needs be. I never did like the lanyard as no matter what the pattern is, it’s very meaning is the same and I hated advertising that I have (even only very mild) disabilities for all to see. Alas, I digress.
As I wove my way through the store’s aisles, I added the various supplies that I needed to my trolley. As I acquired what I was sure was half of ASDA’s spice collection, a lady walked past me with a six-pint carton of milk in her trolley.
Fuck, milk – I knew I’d forgotten something!
I let Mum know my would-be whereabouts and dashed back down to the refrigerators at a relative pace. As I turned into the milk aisle, he headed towards me from the opposite direction – the milk man.
I pulled my trolley aside for a moment and waited. Because of social distancing, I didn’t mind waiting a few moments to give him the space that he needed.
Our eyes met and I gave him a friendly smile. Not that a friendly smile matters right now because frankly, nobody can see them behind my black cotton mask, but still I try.
“No rush! I just want to pinch one of those when you’re done, that’s all” I said, gesturing to the trolley full of milk cartons.
He pushed one cage into its new position and rotated the other for me to take one of the new cartons still waiting to be put into place. I thanked him for his kindness and headed back towards my trolley.
“It’s okay, most customers just shove me out the way” he replied, the pain was evident in his voice.
For a few moments, we talked more about the situation, about the pandemic, and about all of the restrictions that have been put in place. We talked about hope, a hope for a return to some kind of normal and about the future. Above all else, it was just nice to have some human interaction outside of my home, and yet as I turned to walk away, he seemed to walk with me.
It’s been a time since I’ve had that kind of attention, that kind of male attention, I mean. I’m used to male attention, but also from men who know.. me. This was different. He didn’t know me, he was just looking at me. I’d caught his interest and he caught me unprepared. I was just a woman doing my grocery shopping until we met!
“Anyway, I best get on. Take care, yeah?” he said resigned, and just like that, he was gone. All that was left was for me to watch him walk away and to contemplate what had just been. Was he? Wasn’t he? Did he? What was I..?
In my mind, I drummed over all of the ways that I could play this encounter to my advantage. It was something of nothing, of course (long-haired guys aren’t my type anyway. Sorry, long-haired guys!) but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t tease Matt about it a little. He’d gotten a little rusty in lockdown and with all this talk of opening up again, maybe I should remind him that there are plenty of other young men who also find his wife interesting. Even if nothing else, then I think it’s important not to let one’s Dominant rest on his laurels 😉
And even that amused me.
Could I, just for a moment, could I imagine? I laughed and shook my head.
Even if the milk man was nice, he was exactly the kind of guy I’d eat for breakfast – and not in a way that he’d enjoy. Even if I tease Matt, he knows my Achilles’ heel. It’s fun to provoke him sometimes, but I had far much to do for those kinds of sex-capades. Nope, not worth it, at least not for today.
Perhaps the funniest part of this whole experience was upon my return, when I spotted the bottle of amber perfume that I’d sprayed on my wrists and neck only a few hours before: Jimmy Choo – Illicit.
Completely coincidental on this occasion I can assure you, but still amusing nonetheless!