Behind our house
in the road parallel to ours, easily reached by a short cut down our back alley, was the local sweet shop. It was a gloomy place full of treasures, where you could spend your pocket money on the penny tray and come out with immense bags of sweeties. The shop was run by two sisters who lived together above the shop. The older one was a moustachioed dowdy type, very kind but rather ugly and a bit frightening. The younger was a 70s dolly bird, long blonde hair, kinky boots, mini skirt... often to be seen in a fur coat, walking her afghan hound. Very hip, but a little odd. She was my babysitter. The only thing I can remember about her babysitting is one night, waking and going downstairs, to find her watching 'Sink The Bismark' on TV. I sat on the floor, between her legs, feeling the vinyl of her boots against my cheek, and the slight roughness and warmth where the mesh of her tights met the smoothness and cool of her boots.

Fetish? Yes, of course.
(Valentine_Sprake immanentising the eschaton since 1983, Fri 29 Oct 2010, 0:07, Reply)