Rainwear Fun WithSomeone?

All rainwear discussions in general or that do not fit into other categories.
Signalache
Posts: 32
Joined: May 18th, 2016, 3:45 pm

Re: Rainwear Fun WithSomeone?

Post by Signalache »

DEVELOPMENTS

Thursday—Nothing. I got it wrong. Can’t even picture her face.

Weekend—Left to my own devices.

Then—Monday morning, threatening rain, waiting in the middle corridor for my Art Appreciation graduation Viva.
Then—Oh My Gosh! At the far end… It’s unmistakable--a (the) mackintosh. I don’t believe it! It’s her. Coming my way. I’m trapped. I feel the blush starting right behind both ears, spreading upwards. Cornered! I just cannot look up. She stops. There is nowhere to hide. Voyeur!! I raise my head at an angle just as if I were crouching close behind a wall and warily keeping a look out from under my eyebrows. There she is. Damn! Her expression is inscrutable--open, placid, eyebrows raised invitingly--the face of someone expecting an explanation—‘Well? Over to you’. My face (knitted brow, I imagine). We stand like that, silent, a set-piece. She feels inside her left-hand raincoat pocket, and hands me an envelope, then raises her right hand palm-out in a ‘see-you’ gesture and off she goes.

Turmoil! I watch her go, the way the mackintosh cavorts subversively. She turns almost absent-mindedly to look back before disappearing. The blood drains from my face. I have become hard. The Art Room door opens. It is difficult to concentrate, but I have chosen to expatiate on Kirchner’s Self Portrait with a Model and deliver a lively, if not jubilant, commentary on the space between the two figures.

I hurry off to the boys’ toilets on the top corridor. The envelope has PRIVATE on the front. I have to rearrange my Y-fronts. I open the envelope. The note says: ‘Baby! Have Mack Will Travel. R’
Last edited by Signalache on May 24th, 2016, 2:52 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Signalache
Posts: 32
Joined: May 18th, 2016, 3:45 pm

Re: Rainwear Fun WithSomeone?

Post by Signalache »

I certainly respect your opinion, Merv, and it makes me think...(see post below)
Last edited by Signalache on May 24th, 2016, 9:19 am, edited 1 time in total.
Signalache
Posts: 32
Joined: May 18th, 2016, 3:45 pm

Re: Rainwear Fun WithSomeone?

Post by Signalache »

REPLY TO COMMENT (SEE ABOVE 22 May)

I certainly respect your opinion, Merv, and it makes me think.

Here, in my tale, based on personal experience, the boy and the girl are both seventeen and, yes there may be read into this account an element of manipulation or grooming. Certainly there is subterfuge involved in the story (it would hardly be realistic were it not). The boy has discovered his orientation much earlier but is afraid to come out. Otherwise mine is an account of a shy adolescent courtship (and remember, set in the fifties)! You might as well say that to be a fetishist and feel shame about the compulsion is a form of abuse. I am well aware that adult child abusers have been shown to have little sense that grooming a child is doing anything wrong; on the contrary they are found to have a shame deficit and think they are doing their victim a favour. As such it has a psychopathic ring. My sexual relations with mature partners of the opposite sex have, I hasten to point out, though they may show elements of co-dependency, are a different story altogether and where they fail is not without pain.

If the word 'abuse' is to be used in this context then it is an abuse of the intended purpose of rainwear! But so what! My word for the collusion between the lover and his inanimate object is 'impropriety', which has currency as referring to a secret shame. I have the opportunity, however, thank goodness, of the liberty granted by the cultural acceptance of degrees of diversity and, within the scope of that category, to exercise self-criticism.
Last edited by Signalache on May 24th, 2016, 2:55 pm, edited 3 times in total.
rubbermac
Posts: 370
Joined: January 17th, 2010, 1:01 pm
Location: Doncaster

Re: Rainwear Fun WithSomeone?

Post by rubbermac »

Not sure what all the above means......But i think its a great story,Many Thanks
Signalache
Posts: 32
Joined: May 18th, 2016, 3:45 pm

Re: Rainwear Fun WithSomeone?

Post by Signalache »

HONEST!

Actually, talking of shame, as I was, I’d let myself lose sight of another occasion around the same time as the business with the refund that unequivocally puts the boot on the other foot with regard to where the shame resides. So much so as to have made it very hard for me to set foot in that particular establishment (another big department store) ever again, and alas, certainly not in Ladies Rainwear. I had blotted well and truly blotted my copybook this time. This was for me a great shame because they had some of the best mackintoshes up there—Alligator, Moseley, Kendall—seriously rubberised examples of the species.

On the occasion I avoided mentioning before, I had ventured into Ladies Rainwear and was drawn to a couple of beauties, forty-eight inches long, of a style, mind you, prior to the advent of the New Look—straight-skirted, raglan sleeves, double-breasted with ten plain buttons, no epaulettes or wrist bands, no nonsense like that, only the little loops to pass the lovely belt through. One of these was my favourite lewd apple-green, the other district-nurse brown. Both were what I would term ‘sheer mackintosh’.

On the day in question, the department was busy. I told the petite shop assistant who it was I was buying for and gave a rough description of a girl about my size. I wanted to be sure, I told her, they would be just right and it was vital for me to get a sense of how they would look. She had no problem with that and nodded toward the changing rooms with a just for you or on this occasion expression, wrinkling her nose, and excusing herself for the moment to attend to another customer. There were two or three cubicles. I went into the first and pulled the curtain shut, ripped off my shirt and dropped my trousers. It had to be done. I put on the green one and held the other languidly over one arm. In the mirror I was presented with a strong erection. At that moment a hand parted the curtain. The assistant who was looking after me peeped in to check if she had the right cubicle and whether she could be of assistance; she withdrew abruptly with an automatic ‘Oh! Sorry’. I dressed in a panic and slunk out. She was not to be seen. I left the mackintoshes on the counter. How badly I wanted that special-green Alligator for myself! A good while later I came across one the same elsewhere and appropriated it. And thereby hangs a tale.
Signalache
Posts: 32
Joined: May 18th, 2016, 3:45 pm

Re: Rainwear Fun WithSomeone?

Post by Signalache »

THE APPROACH

I will speak of my Alligator later. I promise myself. Right now: it’s the Kelvinette.
How far back does all this go?
Since I was a toddler who knows no shame.
But shame, like ‘peace comes dropping slow from the veils of the morning
To where the cricket sings’, and there we are—for shame is of the essence of sex—without shame my sex is without its delirious intrigue and without that the cock fails to crow.
So I have decided. I will devise my shameless approach.

Our timetables do not correspond. We are both in our final year; for me it’s Art and Classics. She does, I later discovered, Biology and Psychology. A promising blend I am tempted to think. For now it is something of a relief. Were we sitting in the same class my concentration was bound to suffer, thinking instead of her raincoat hanging in the cloakroom itself conscious of us both and waiting for us to get together.

I have dismissed the notion of a note in favour of being up-front. My trepidation centres on trickery. What, for instance, were those five girls laughing at? Certainly when she looked in my direction so pointedly, I thought, I had no sense she had nudged the others nor were the others supressing a snorting mirth. They continued to act like young women on a hen night or perhaps, inappropriately for their age and intelligence, like oblivious kids at the back of the bus. I could feel my resolve stiffening; the time was coming nigh. I had learned from my studies that creativity only took place in the unknown and by throwing caution to the winds. I became somewhat dizzy as my beloved Catullus comes to mind: What infatuation drives you, lovesick Ravidas, headlong into my lampoons?—that passage: (Quid vis?). What god makes you in an evil hour make haste to start the frantic duel? Is it because you want to be on people’s lips? What are you after? Do you desire to be known no matter what? So you shall be, since you’ve chosen to love my loved one and be pilloried for ever.

Hurrying to overtake the others streaming along the corridor, I come up behind her. I touch her gently on the arm. She turns. We are both stop dead. We look each other in the eyes. Our fellow pupils push past tut-tutting (one or two of them). We are both expressionless. What could we say? Mark Knopfler’s Blood and Water enters my head like the first wave of alcohol. The young woman’s face relaxes, first the eyes, then the mouth softens—giving the sense of someone who recognizes they are on the brink of falling asleep at last.
Last edited by Signalache on May 25th, 2016, 2:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
blackmacjay
Posts: 707
Joined: February 4th, 2010, 7:32 pm

Re: Rainwear Fun WithSomeone?

Post by blackmacjay »

I can't help but say that this is written well but it's a bit mixed up for me.

What does everybody else think?
Signalache
Posts: 32
Joined: May 18th, 2016, 3:45 pm

Re: Rainwear Fun WithSomeone?

Post by Signalache »

Happy to transfer it if that is practicable.
Last edited by Signalache on May 27th, 2016, 11:38 am, edited 1 time in total.
Signalache
Posts: 32
Joined: May 18th, 2016, 3:45 pm

Re: Rainwear Fun WithSomeone?

Post by Signalache »

SOME FIND!

I was, as it happened, in the north at the time, attending a conference I can recall very little about. Only that someone a colleague had invited me to stay the night. All I can picture of the house bar the main attraction (which I’m coming to) were a number of old fashioned rustic paintings of ‘Sheepies and Snaw’ as Frank, my host called them, explaining how they belonged to a one-time popular period of Scottish painting, but which, I have to say, cast a kind of depression on the otherwise cosy sitting room, but made up for by the log fire. Also, there was ample whisky on offer and his wife had cooked an evening meal I recall as being very adequate and which we had sitting round the table swopping stories and making jokes. One of Frank’s favourite expressions of mock surprise was 'Jeepers Creepers Great Balls of Fire' followed by a hearty laugh as if the chance to use the phrase itself had once again caused him considerable amusement. His wife was a slim woman of around forty, probably seven or eight years older than me and, as far as I recall, affable, not amused by her husband’s humour, otherwise attentive. I have not seen the couple again since that overnight stay.

I was given a room across a chilly stone floored passage leading to the back door off to the left as you entered the small maid’s room—I took it to be considering the age of the stone house. What I did not fail to notice was the coats etc. on hooks against the wall opposite my door one of which was an apple-green ladies mackintosh. I went back into the sitting room thanked the woman of the house for her hospitality and declined a nightcap from my colleague and then retired.

It was a long wait while sleep failed to visit me as I listened for the signs the household had retired upstairs to bed. Still I was a trifle apprehensive and opened my bedroom door gingerly, looked left and right before quickly removing the waterproof from its peg and going back to my room with it. When I closed the door behind me that was the moment my genitals gave their first assent.

I surveyed my hostess’s raincoat for a good hour. It was not new but none the worse for weathering a rainfall as was likely in that area of the country prior to the legendary snow fall when a rubber mac would be less than adequate to keep out the cold. It was an Alligator, just like the one that had brought shame upon me. Into the bargain it had an attached hood. It was such a coincidence as made my heart miss a beat and decide that I had every right to claim it as mine. It was as if the petite shop assistant who had seen me in flagrante up in Ladies Rainwear a while back had kept it for me. I felt very tender towards it and exposed myself fully to its exceptional blandishments. The value I put upon it far outweighed that accorded it by someone who would leave it hanging in the cold just inside the back door along with the gardening paraphernalia.

Next morning at breakfast, my hostess asked had I slept well and spoke about the days when there would have been a local girl employed as maid. She commented on how distracted I seemed and wondered if I was worried about the train and bus journey down south. She offered to drive me to the station which I vigorously assured her would not be necessary. When I was ready to leave standing at the front door I suddenly ‘reminded’ myself to get my case which ‘Oh yes’ was ready packed except… I went in at the side door (the gardener’s entrance), do or die… I took the Alligator off the peg, went into the maid’s room, opened my case, without a second thought placed the irreplaceable accoutrement inside and went back all ready for a last goodbye. Frank patted my shoulder; his wife brushed my cheek with the ghost of a kiss and I was away with the fairies. Now and then, when I take Mrs D’s waterproof from its drawer where it is carefully folded and powdered inside its transparent plastic wrapper, we give each other a great night out, nothing short of a celebration. A profound commitment.

After a while when I had made myself fully at home with my prize possession, I decided to drop Mrs D a line telling her how attached I had become to her ‘old’ mackintosh (I put it that way perhaps in keeping with how she perceived it, when in fact it was in stunning good nick. And I gave her a big thank you. I enclosed in a registered envelope along with my letter a very generous payment in recompense, a sum which included a fitting service charge for exceptional services rendered on a number of occasions. I signed my letter with my initials so that she could make her peace with the appropriate person should she wished to but whose extremity I felt she would be inclined to overlook.
I never heard back.
Signalache
Posts: 32
Joined: May 18th, 2016, 3:45 pm

Re: Rainwear Fun WithSomeone?

Post by Signalache »

Me neither. This post: SOME FIND is an I Wish. Writers get that sort of thing. The green mackintosh and its spell was a reality. I am glad to hear it struck a chord. Thank you.
Last edited by Signalache on May 27th, 2016, 1:26 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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