Sunday, July 10, 2005

Purchasing the various supplies for a bachelorette party at Michael's, a craft and party store, I land on a white and silver feather boa, and decide this is perfect bride apparel for the festivities. Checking out, the cashier oohs over the boa and runs her hands over its length. She is probably late 50's in age, wearing the telltale signs of several children and a lot of hours on her feet, significantly grayed and somewhat overweight, likely how I will look at this age I think. We talk about the price, and I tell her the reason for purchase. The conversation proceeds like this. "Ahhhh. The bride can wear it for the party, and then get a 2nd use from it on her wedding night!" The cashier's face has suddenly acquired a lovely glow and her eyes are dancing now. "Have you ever had a feather on your skin?" I nod, grinning. The sensuality is bubbling forth now and her voice gets much lower and says "get an ostrich feather, or a peacock feather, have him brush those long strands on your skin." I want to say "have WHO do this?" but instead I blush and she sighs, voice lower still and leaning slightly towards me now so the other customers can't hear her "Oh, I love having someone use a feather on my back. Just brush down it lightly. The back gets me every time." I find myself confessing my fondness for fingernails lightly dragged down my back, and the credit card order prints and I sign. Everything is now back to business. "I've packed the bag in such a way that when you pick it up, everything should slide down into the metal basket and ride home safely." I smile and walk out to the parking lot, thinking that woman had a whole lot of sexuality going on in a rather drab package. I am thinking I hope I am like that in my late 50s.
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