Why do sex shops always have to look so... dark and cringy? It's like we are still in the 70s or something. They make me feel dirty just by stepping inside - I said while we crossed the door into one of them.
The corridor was endless, or at least it seemed like it to her. The appointment had been set for five o’clock and thinking that she would easily find her way to the office, she had taken her sweet time with the coffee. Now it was ten past and she still hadn't found it.
I had been going to yoga class for a few months. My life was proving to be super stressful and I needed something to relax and make me feel like I was at least trying to look after myself. I loved the class: I left full of energy but relaxed each time and feeling at peace with myself. I had made a few friends with whom I sometimes went to a bar after the class. One of the recurring topics we talked about on those nights was the affair we were 100% sure the yoga instructor and a personal trainer were having. He used to come at the same time each session to train with his customer right in front of our transparent walls. We were sure he stayed for a few hours afterward too, just with a different company. We spotted the looks they shot each other when he passed by our room when only the glass walls and their duties as gym employees separated them. We also saw that he stayed waiting by the lockers when we were all filing down the hallway to shower and go back home. Our class was the last of the day, so we were always debating if they just directly went to one of their apartments, or if they would have dinner together first if their neighbors would hear them...
I was nervous. Well, I was shitting my pants, to tell you the truth. I had been thinking of a nipple piercing for some time now, but of course, I had done a search on YouTube and seeing the people scream with pain had dissuaded me. Until now. One day, God knows why, you have to have the piercing done, and no one can persuade you otherwise. So, you go and do it.
I wondered what it felt like to be a panther. To crawl up the bed, from the feet to the head, over him. To pin his hands down, and take control of everything happening in bed. I wanted to be in charge, to feel that power. I dressed for the occasion: platforms, and a see-through black dress that showed the scarce underwear, that barely covered my bush or my tush. My breasts were supported by a lycra bra surrounding them, but no cover, so that my nipples were clearly visible through the dress. My hair was tied high, and tight in a braided ponytail. I walked dressed up like this for the whole afternoon, to build up the character and the bravery I needed to pull my act off for the first time.
The doctor had told me I was worryingly down on B12. I didn't even know what that implied, but she sounded very worried and she had told me I had to get five shots to restore me to normal levels. I stayed in the waiting room for a while, until the nurse came to get me. He was the only male nurse in the small clinic, so I'd already checked him out. He told me to come through another room that only had a couple of cupboards and one of those examination seats.