I had the opportunity to go through the Pages app on my iPad and found all manner of half finished and scribbling of ideas. A lot of them were things I started with the very best of intentions to link to memes or as a response to something current in the news of the day. I will admit here that I am not a good finisher but I was very pleased that my rummaging did prompt me to finish this piece which was in response to a Wicked Wenesday prompt quite some time ago. I am kind of embarrased to find out how long ago, so I won’t try to look for the prompt. Instead it will be my submission for this week’s Wicked Wednesday.
There was once a chance I didn’t take. It was one of those moments when your dearest fantasy is handed to you on a platter but you are too busy dealing with real life to grab it and then before you can stop it someone rips the platter away forever. I was working in this upmarket menswear store in Cardiff. Most of our customers were spoiled little rich boys who thought that their money and their fancy cars made them every poor little sales attendant’s dream man. When they came into our store they treated us like part of the merchandise, pinching our butt and ogling down our blouse at every opportunity. Our store manager was a misogynist of the worst kind and insisted that we wear tiny skirts and show plenty of cleavage because it was good for business which of course only encouraged this kind of behaviour. No wonder he had such a high staff turnover. I only stuck at the job because it was literally around the corner form the Dr Who set and I harboured a secret fantasy that one day I would run into The Doctor in the street.
One day as I was unpacking stock a customer came in and began flicking through the jeans on the rack next to me. I was engrossed in my task and I was completely unprepared for what I would see when I looked up in response to a more polite than usual request for help.
“What do you think?” The tall gangly man in front of me held a pair of faded crinkled jeans and held them up to his body.
There was a long moment of silence as I digested the fact that I was standing in front of Matt Smith, THE Matt Smith. Arguably the sexiest man who has ever flown the TARDIS. And now, he was standing in front of me holding a pair of jeans over his waist waiting for my opinion. He raised his eyebrow a little prompting me to remember that I was supposed to be answering his question.
“Well,” I answered, glancing at the rack beside him, “it is really up to you, of course. But I think something like this might work better with someone of your shape.” I pulled out a pair of black skinny jeans. I am a nerd at heart, I have a weakness for slender men in tight fitting pants and here I was dressing the man who was every nerd girl’s sex symbol.
He considered my choice for a few moments, “A little stereotypical perhaps,” he mused, “but never say never.” He took the jeans from my hands and I pointed him in the direction of the change rooms.
Julie sauntered over to me as I returned to the boxes of stock.
“I am guessing from the look on your face that you think this one is cute,” she smirked at me.
I looked at her for a moment trying to fathom what she was on about, “what?” I frowned in confusion.
“The guy with the jeans,” she guess turned towards the jean rack, “you seemed to melt into the floor when he spoke to you.”
It dawned on me then that she had absolutely no idea who he was. I decided not to try and enlighten her. Her idea of good television is Geordie Shore which explains a lot really. To Julie, Matt is too nerdy, too pale and too skinny to be attractive. Her main motivation for working here was the fantasy that one day one of our customers would be attractive AND notice her long enough to sweep her off to his country estate.
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I slid a shirt onto a hanger.
“Whatever,” Julie replied although her face said she definitely wasn’t convinced of my nonchalance. “You should probably head on in to the change area and make sure your customer isn’t needing any help.” Julie nodded towards the changing area.
I looked at the doorway that Matt had disappeared through a few minutes earlier. Butterflies fluttered through my stomach. I hadn’t felt this nervous about speaking to a guy since I was in high school. I considered backing out but one glance at Julie’s raised eyebrow banished the thought right out of my head. I stood up and marched towards the change rooms with determination. Once inside the door I lost my resolve. Standing there looking at the row of closed curtains I coughed nervously trying to bring myself to ask all the closed curtains if they needed some help.
Before I had a chance, though, a head crowned with fantastic hair popped out at me.
“Oh good,” he grinned at me in a way that made me feel like I was in a Doctor Who episode, “I need you to come and give me your opinion.”
“And now,” he walked back towards me, still in character as The Doctor, “let’s see what my choice is like.”
He disappeared behind the curtain. I stood awkwardly waiting, not sure what was going to happen next. The whole situation had taken a surreal twist and I was no longer sure of what the rules of normal were. After a few moments Matt’s head popped out from behind the curtain in the characteristic pose of someone who found themselves naked in a change room and in need of help. He spied me, still standing rooted to the spot where he had left me.
“Err, could I possibly bother you for some help?” His characteristic puppy dog eyes had completely addled my brain, I could no longer distinguish between complete Doctor Who fantasy and reality. If had asked me for a Jammy Dodger I would not have been surprised.
“Of course,” I replied with a bright professional smile as I stepped forward towards him. “What is it that you need?”
“I just need you to check the sizing on these,” he replied disappearing behind the curtain.
I was a little unsure of what he was expecting and I stood hesitantly outside the cubicle waiting for a further request. When none was forthcoming I opened the curtain a little.
“Come in, come in,” his voice reassured me before I opened the curtain far enough to see him.
I stepped inside to be greeted with the sight of one of the most attractive naked butts I had ever seen. “The time of the Doctor” had not been released at that time and so I was seeing Matt’s naked butt for the first time. Before I could even process what I was looking at he turned to face me. The whole world seemed to flip upside down for a moment as I registered what I was looking at. I can’t exactly remember but I think my jaw was hanging open at this point. I really don’t know it was all I could do to register that I was now looking at Matt Smith’s naked cock. Not only that I was looking at Matt Smith’s naked SEMI ERECT cock.
“I think I was a little too ambitious about the size of my waistline,” he grinned at me, completely oblivious to my hanging jaw which I am positive was starting to drool.
“It seems that my producer is right and I could gain a pound or two.”
Glad of an excuse to get out of there I took the jeans from him and left the cubicle as fast as I could. Back in the store Julie was occupied with a short, fat blonde man who was insisting that candy pink highlighted his complexion. She didn’t even notice me.
Back in the change room I handed the jeans past the curtain not daring enough to venture in.
“Thanks,” the cheery voice came back at me as he took the jeans from my hand.
I waited a few moments trying to stop my ears from straining to hear the sound of denim sliding up legs and trying to remove the image of the perfect smooth skin of his ass being covered by fabric. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I remembered his cock. It really was as glorious as the rest of him. I wondered if he flashed it every time he bought pants. Did he flash it around when he was on set. Had every single person in the wardrobe section of Dr Who seen Matt Smith naked? Was he a closet nudist? I could never really understand nudists. Britain has entirely the wrong climate for nudity.
“What do you think?” My customer’s voice interrupted my reverie. He stood in front of the mirror doing that twist people always do, trying to see what their ass looks like in the mirror. I stepped forwards,
“You were right,” I allowed myself to put my hands on his ass, “they look great,” they really did, he had lost some of that bean pole look which was great but somehow appearing as a more ‘normal’ sized person made him look even better.
I slid my hands downwards, smoothing the denim over his butt, “this cut looks great on you.”
“You don’t think it makes my butt look big?” Our eyes met in the mirror. I was lost, completely entranced by the puppy eyes and the tiny upwards twist of his mouth smiling at his own joke.
“No I reassured him,” still holding eye contact in the mirror. “They look amazing, you look amazing.” I couldn’t believe I had let the last statement slip out. I waited terrified that I had broken the connection. He turned to face me. His eyes travelled down my body making warm waves travel through me. Between my legs my cunt throbbed a little.
“So do you,” he commented, tentatively he placed his hand on my shoulder for a moment before letting it fall away brushing the outside of my breast. I could feel my nipples, straining to break free of my bra as his eyes grazed over my cleavage. For an insane moment I wished he would pull my into a cubicle and fuck the life out of me but fate intervened, Julie and her rotund customer came bustling into the changing room.
We collected ourselves, “I will definitely take these,” he made his way back into the cubicle. Avoiding Julie’s eye I hurried back to the counter.
For some reason the store was suddenly the place to be. A group of lads looking for the perfect shirt for a date one of them was going on and a couple looking for a wedding suit came in. I pointed both groups in the direction of appropriate clothing before Matt came out to pay. After he signed the credit card receipt he very deliberately turned the paper over and wrote his phone number on the back. “Call me,” he said looking straight into my eyes, “Don’t be shy,”
As he left the store my attention was grabbed immediately by customers. I placed the receipt on the spike and went to work, the moment gone.
I completely forgot about the receipt until later that night. Julie had finished reconciling the till and I was vacuuming the carpet. It wasn’t until our manager had taken the paperwork and we had locked up that I remembered. It was too late. My nerd girl fantasy was gone, locked in the briefcase of a misogynistic pig.
Last week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt was “Disability”. I haven’t participated in Wicked Wednesday for a while but a recent experience really fitted with the prompt so I wanted to participate. Sadly I was a little bit disorganised and didn’t get my post written in time. I still wanted to share my experience with you all so here it is. Of course I encourage you to visit the Wicked Wednesday site to read some of the other submissions.
The couple seemed like many other couples I had seen at our regular club. New to things, shy, hiding away in the corner unsure of how to interact in this alien environment. The only thing that gave them away was the sign language. At first I thought that maybe one of them was hearing and one was deaf. It turned out that both were deaf. The lady of the couple was able to lip read and speak a little. The man was not.
Whether it was because of her stronger ability to communicate in a hearing world or because of her more outgoing personality Mrs did all the speaking for both of them. At first I hesitated to speak to them, I struggle to make small talk at the best of times let alone in a situation where I don’t understand their language and they don’t understand mine. But something in me encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone and with the help of a notepad we started chatting.
Once I got used to writing the more complex ideas down in brief notes and started to understand my new friend’s unusual accent I felt more comfortable. Comfortable enough to ask them to play. Through our chatting we had learned that this was not a first swinging experience for her but it was for him. Looking back now I realise that he was very reserved. At the time I didn’t pick it up because of the communication issues.
When we got into the room we went into the usual routine of undressing. Mrs had made it clear that they wanted to swap before we had gotten into the room but even so it was awkward. Mr was unsure of what to do and once his partner was busy elsewhere he had no way of asking. I could almost feel his hands shaking as he touched me but we settled down after a while.
It struck me how quiet the room was. It made me wonder how our new friends experience sex. Until that moment I had not thought about the role that sound played in my own sexual experiences. I knew I am often very noisy when I am enjoying myself but the silence in the room brought it home to me how much I relied on sound from the other person to help me understand what is going on with them. When you are having sex with a stranger every little nuance is important. Unless you are completely self centred and don’t really care. Thankfully I am not like that. Pleasure for my partner is the ultimate turn on for me.
Although we started out well things did not go well for my new friend and I. Despite my best efforts and trying every trick I knew a bad case of stage fright spoiled our fun. We were reduced to that awkward situation of watching the other half of our partnerships having a wonderful time on the other side of the bed. In situations like this I whisper to my new friends about how sexy their wife looks. Sometimes it helps them to relax and get something out of the evening but in this case I couldn’t even do that. I felt as hampered and frustrated by his disability as he did.
In the end the couple dressed and left quite quickly. He apologised as much as he could and I reassured him as much as I could but I think my reassurances fell on deaf ears in more ways than one. I wanted to tell him it was OK and a whole lot of other things but I would have needed a dozen notebooks and hours of time. It was never going to happen.
It would be easy to blame the disability for what happened. But I think that was a cop out. Certainly it didn’t help but like many similar situations involving people with perfect hearing a whole raft of other factors came into play. Noting can truly prepare someone for that first swinging experience. Until you are in that room naked with strangers you can never know what is going to happen or how you are going to feel. I remember my own journey through that time and am thankful that I had an understanding partner and found understanding people. The adage “communicated, communicate, communicate” was the thing that got us through. How much harder was it going to be for a person who has limited communication? I am awestruck by their willingness to try and I hope that this experience doesn’t make them give up forever.