Sunday, 5 October 2014

The Lure of The Confessional

Exploring Tacky Trading Estates
Last weekend I was down in Kent, UK visiting friends. Arriving a little early and finding them not at home, I decided to take advantage of the unseasonably good weather by taking myself for a walk. I should say at this point that I am particularly fond of out of the way trading estate, and like most things, the seedier the better. Imagine my delight then, when I discovered a truly downbeat little pocket of small warehouses and cheap units with ultra-thin breeze-block walls, nestling in a grubby little close just along the road from my friends' house. Turning up the collar of my light raincoat, I skulked around the various units, assessing the tacky signage and peering in through windows.

Dolly's Cake Occasions
A lurid pink sign with several grammatical and spelling errors pronouncing to the visitor a tempting list of services, including both 'confectionery' for special occasions and 'training corses' for would-be cake makers. Party balloons seemed to be another speciality. Dolly appeared to be sitting at a single desk in a bare room, answering a telephone call as I looked in. She smiled politely and I moved on.

Burt's Blinds
Incorporated 2008. Unlike Dolly, Burt did not seem to be in situ. A torn off take-away Kentucky Fried Chicken box had been stuck on the glass door with Burt's mobile number and the words, "Back in Harfa Mo," written on it in biro. I couldn't help but notice that the shop's own window blind was broken and teetered precariously on an uncomfortable slant.

A Well Known Brewery
Following the road around the back I saw beer barrels stacked in front of a double unit with open doors. I recognised this immediately as a fairly well known Kent craft brewery (a microbrewery as they call them in the UK) and strolled over to engage one of the brewers in conversation. We were in the midst of the green hop ale festival, he told me, so they were busier than usual. Busy by his standards still gave him plenty of time to chat to me about brewing and the virtues of a number of local ale houses.

The Adult Warehouse
While discussing real ale brewing with Barry, I couldn't help a very large sign opposite advertising an Adult Warehouse. Naturally I was intrigued. Bidding my newfound friend Barry a good day, I strolled casually, as if by accident, over in the general direction of the open door. Inside I found a lady standing behind a desk. My first realisation was that she did not look like the kind of lady one would expect to find in a sex shop. Perhaps, I wondered, I had made an incorrect assumption about the goods or services this place was in the business of purveying?

"Can I help you dear," said the lady. She was plain, probably in her late forties and smartly dressed. Not by any stretch of the imagination tarty.

"Er, I'm just having a look around. I was out for a walk and I just noticed your sign."

The lady looked at me as if to say, "oh yes we've heard that one before!"

"Have you been open long?"

"Just six months it is now. Are you from around here then?"

"No I'm a visitor. From London." She nodded knowingly and a faint smirk wrinkled her orange lips.

"So how's business then?"

"Oh we can't complain. No it's been very good actually. We've found theres quite a demand. Professional classes mostly but we do get all sorts. Plenty of repeat business though, which is very reassuring. Weddings - couples come in to have photos done, if you see what I mean."

I resolved to work that one out later, or look on their website perhaps. I congratulated her, noticing an elderly couple tottering in through the entrance as I did so. They lowered their spectacles, perhaps struggling to determine what it was that this place sold. I chuckled to myself, imagining that they were probably expecting to find curtains or bathroom fittings inside.

"Where can we find the apparatus?" asked the elderly gentleman. "The man told us there would be some new beds in this week... with the chains and things."

"Oh yes dear, they're through in the new bondage suite. Follow the purple carpet and through those doors back there. Derek will be through there somewhere if you'd like to try anything, or I'll come and find you when I'm finished up dealing with this gentleman."

I felt uncomfortable having been described as a gentleman being dealt with, so I distanced myself from the counter slightly, saying I'd just have a browse around if that was okay. That would be fine, the lady said. The warehouse extended quite some way back. In each section there were descriptive signs. All fairly subtle really. One said "Toys", another "Dressing-up" and another "Adult Literature and Films." One room that seemed quite popular announced itself with a slightly perturbing sign saying "Made to Measure and yet another equally popular room was entitled the "In Flagrante - Film Yourself Room." A number of extra signs let shoppers know that one could "try before you buy." There seemed to be a number of treatment rooms tucked away at the back. Passing back along the long corridor I distinctly heard groaning. It may of course have been the sound of someone with a bad back stretching to reach a book, but it sounded rather too prolonged.

It had been an interesting way to waste half an hour or so before my friends returned from wherever they go on a Saturday morning, but I felt sure I had now exhausted my curiosity. Or so I thought. It was not easy to position one's self in this warren of adult delight. I had presumed I was approaching the front sales desk area when I found myself lost. Attempting to double back I heard the sound mumbling voices and followed it into an alcove. Off to one side I saw a sign. "The Adult Confessional." It didn't seem quite right to stand and listen so I kept a polite distance. Fortunately as it happens, I am possessed of acute hearing and I could still hear from outside in the hallway. And of course you will be unable to resist wanting to know what I overheard, so I will tell you. It went like this:

Man's voice: my lady, I'd had my shower. My squash partner had gone already and I was the last
one in there. I was in the shower and I could hear women's voices through the gap at the top of the wall that separates the men's from the ladies showers. They were giggling and I put my ear to the wall to listen.

Woman's voice: I see. Now that was a lewd and disgusting thing to do, wasn't it?

Man's voice: Yes I did know that. I was invading their privacy, but I thought if they didn't know I could hear, then at least they wouldn't be embarrassed.

Woman's voice: You are filthy and you have violated those poor women. What did you hear them say?

Man's voice: One of them was talking about her husband, my lady, saying he couldn't satisfy her. The friend said she should try having sex with her ex-boyfriend who was a master of exciting and satisfying women. The other woman wanted to know more.

Woman's voice: So you listened to their very private sexual conversation?

Man's voice: I'm afraid I did, my lady. Worse than that it excited me. I became erect. I couldn't help but touch myself.

Woman's voice: How utterly disgusting! You are a vile animal with depraved desires. What else did you hear?

Man's voice: The one woman described how her ex-boyfriend used to bring her to the edge of an orgasm by minimal contact, so that she could feel him but that he would not fulfil her desires. Only after she screamed and clawed at him with her nails, my lady, would he give up to her desires.

Woman's voice: So I am assuming you gratified yourself listening to these two women, is that correct?

Man's voice: Unfortunately not, my lady. I was in the midst of passion when all of a sudden I opened my eyes and saw before me a cleaning woman dressed in white trousers and shirt and holding a mop and bucket. As I had turned around I had displayed myself and she gasped at what she saw before her.

Woman's voice: Oh my goodness, how utterly grotesque. That poor woman!

Man's voice: Yes quite, my lady, I would not have wished it upon her but to my surprise she smiled and reached out to touch me. I should point out, my lady, that she was wearing rubber gloves.

Woman's voice: So do you mean to tell me you allowed this cleaning woman to gratify you with her gloved hands while you were in the shower?

Man's voice: I tried to resist, my lady, but when her shirt became wet and her nipples became visible through the fabric... well I lost all control. I'm afraid I took a great deal of pleasure from the experience, my lady, along with the lady's mobile telephone number.

Woman's voice: You are a vile human being. In fact you are barely human. Such behaviour is a sin and will not be tolerated. Either submit to a spanking in the treatment room immediately following this session or you will be expected to pay a fine of thirty pounds on your way out. At your own discretion of course. Now get out of my confessional and send in the next sinner.

Needless to say I scuttled off quickly, but not so far that I avoided catching a glimpse of the poor
devil who had unburdened himself. A well dressed, portly old gent looking like a ruddy faced solicitor type, or perhaps an insurance broker. It was hard to tell from a distance. The lady, however, who followed him out from behind the curtain a few moments later, was unmistakeable.

"Hello sir, you're still here browsing then – did you find anything we can help you with?"

"One or two things," I replied awkwardly, "but I'll have to come back when I've got more time."
If you are tempted to read more by A.K. Anders, please click on of the links on the right panel of this blog. If you're too lazy, click here: AK Anders on Smashwords (click here for Amazon or just type A.K.Anders or the title The Pimlico Tapes into your search engine). Enjoy your evening and remember to add your e-mail into the Follow By e-mail box (top right hand margin) if you'd like to be notified of future posts (about quarterly - after all you can have too much of a good thing).

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