The other day, I went to a fetish shop. I had bought a flogger from them some time ago, and it had a flaw. I wanted them to repair or replace it, but hadn’t gotten around to going there to talk to them about it yet.
When I walked in, there was one other customer in the bright cheery shop, a small woman who seemed to be collecting a whole lot of items, laying them on the glass-top counter, then going to find some more. There was quite a stack.
I had a chat to the guy behind the counter who turned out to be the owner: he was lovely, friendly, understanding. He agreed the flogger was ‘broken’, and invited me to choose a replacement flogger from much more upmarket stock. Good customer service! Oh my. We chatted a bit and I said that since he was being so lovely to me, I would now have to find other things to buy. He laughed, said encouraging things, and off I went to browse.
I wandered about, was smacking myself with various implements to see how they felt, rifling through a bargain bin, touching things to feel texture, weight.
The woman was in earnest discussion with the owner. I glanced over at her. She was maybe 40-ish, small, wiry, she was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, a cute hat.
She tentatively called to me. “Excuse me…”
I smiled quizzically, “Yes?”
She smiled shyly, “Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“I’m… um… looking at strap-ons. Do you have one? I’m wondering if you can help me…”
We chatted about strap-on harnesses, I told her about the two I have, what I liked and didn’t. I mentioned another that I want, but haven’t been able to justify buying. The owner obligingly looked it up online so that she could see it.
She was incredibly sweet and nervous, and I know she was intimidated by being in the store, that it took nerve to come in and talk about it, that this was all new to her. I wanted to be her new best friend.
As it was, I gave her as much information as I could, I advised her to join Fetlife to find local workshops and events and just to get information, and when she kept saying that she hadn’t a clue what she was doing, I reassured her that fucking about with it is part of the fun. She looked sceptical at that, but it’s so true.
She left with some $250 worth of goodies, and I thought, “Your partner is one lucky lucky boy.”
I loved seeing her there, I loved that she was exploring, I loved that she was asking questions, I loved that whatever it took for her to get up the nerve to do it, she found it. I left there skip-happy and hoping that because she had met the owner (a really lovely man) and me (a perfectly normal, friendly Domme) she felt a little more confident walking out than she had walking in.
As for me, I have new toys!!