Not long after the wedding weekend I took a trip to see my good friend B.
It was October 2017 and time for me to make another visit. She had been my second female meet through fab just over a year before, the perfect first ever date. I travelled on the friday and was to stay until the Wednesday or Thursday, departure date unconfirmed. I had something planned for the monday, while she worked, but there was plenty of time for unexpected fun. That is something that was becoming a bit of a pattern during time spent with friends.
I arrived late on the Friday evening, having been following my sat nav which took me on a jolly around various different (and new to me) landmarks. My phones battery gave up as I found myself on the far side of Bournemouth with no hope of finding my way back. Well, no hope except for my own sense of direction. A most unexpected addition to my trip! I found her, fortunately, and dinner was almost ready. Another friend of hers was staying and he had cooked for us. It is always a treat to see my beautiful friend, and we sat catching up over a cuppa. The smell of curry filling the house, the sounds of singing and happiness coming from the kitchen. The following day he was heading home but we enjoyed a nice evening chattering away.
I took the trip to the train station in Salisbury with them.
After leaving him at the ticket gate I was saddened to see her dissolving with the emotion of saying goodbye to one of her tribe. I had just the thing to cheer her up. So long as the shop was still there I would treat her to a visit to the place I had bought my first dildo!
“How long have you got on the car?” I asked.
As it was we were in a waiting space that gave an hours parking. She didn’t need to head home immediately either. With that I grabbed my bag from the boot, took her hand and pulled a puzzled B down the street and around the corner.
Nostalgia slowed our steps.
B pointed out a road and told me about a lovely gentleman she had met in that direction. They had met through fabswingers, she had spoken to his wife who had given the go ahead and was treated to an amazing experience with a talented lover. It had been 15 years since my feet had followed this path. That time was with P on a trip in our first month together. We stood on the cathedral green and he had told me what our son would be called. I remember laughing, we weren’t going to have children! That day, I’d shown him the sights of a city where I’d spent many hedonistic days and nights in my youth. On this occasion I was almost drunk with joy.
The seedy little sex shop was still there.
Only, it wasn’t quite so seedy anymore. It was painted white, and had a painted sign- My Amazing Fantasy. B saw where my eyes were looking and turned. The tears that had been threatening to overwhelm her disappeared. Laughter flooding her face instead, bubbling out of her like jets of water in a jacuzzi.
The last time I had been there the windows were blacked out, and the man behind the counter looked more than a little greasy and grim. Rows of lesbian porn videos had adorned the walls, with men sticking to their favourite sections. I had found the small selection of toys at the back, and made my selection. 18 years later, I found myself in a very different shop.
The eccentric woman staffing the place was friendly and only to keen to demonstrate the satisfyer model that had recently been released. One foot on the counter, she showed us how she used it. Well, she kept her clothes on, but simulated her usage. She was a hoot! Perhaps her outlandish attitude to customer service, the freshly painted white walls and the advent of porn sites meant that there were less lurking men, a common feature of many sex toy shops. We made our way out of the shop, each weighed down with shopping and lifted up with smiles. What a fabulous way to cheer up one of my special people and take a trip down memory lane.
A unique shopping experience for both of us!
But this was only the start of a very interesting trip for both of us, and I look forward to telling you all about them over the coming posts.
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