Dry Cleaners

I went to the dry cleaner's today to get my favorite suit cleaned and to FINALLY get the matching pants hemmed. I purchased the jacket, skirt and pants months ago, but I have a fear of getting things tailored. I once had a lined silk dress ruined by an incompetent woman and I didn't want my new pants ruined. So today I took the plunge and tried a new place. I handed over my skirt and jacket with ease, and cautiously asked if the seamstress was available. To my joy/dismay the seamstress was there and I was directed to a changing thing. I say "thing" because it was NOT a changing room. It was a small space created by hanging fabric on four sides. The "door" was an opening in the fabric which I could close by fastening two 1" square pieces of velcro together.

I'm standing in this "room" and I realize that I'm wearing what H3.2 refers to as cute panties. Which means they are more than a thong, but not a whole lot more. (Sorry for the mental picture Dad!) Also, I hear a lot of male voices behind me, and I realize that I forgot to blog about a certain subject some time ago...

There are different categories of men. And each of these categories have subsets that have a particular way of letting a woman know that she is attractive. You have the white, male, blue collar worker that likes to yell, holler, whistle and generally make verbal asses out of themselves. You have the drunken prick at the bar that tries to grope you, the "Is your Daddy a thief" stupid pickup lines... on and on it goes. Lately I have been disturbed by the "I have taken your clothes off and bent you over whatever handy dandy surface is nearby and am ravaging you RIGHT NOW look". In the culture of this particular subset, this is just as normal as whistling is at a construction site.

It usually happens to me when I am in work attire, AKA suit, heels, stockings, etc. When I am working I'm in professional financial person mode. I'm thinking about the stock market, 401(k)'s and a particular client's inadequate life insurance. I'm not thinking about Nookie. I'm clean and pure and chaste dammit. These men look at me and I feel like taking a shower. Don't get me wrong, it is not the "Wow you're hot" look. It's the "Don't move I'm about to cum look". EW!

So, back to the dry cleaners. I'm in this changing "place" and I hear a group of men belonging to this particular subset right behind me. And I'm standing there in my cute panties. And my Xanax hasn't kicked in yet. Did I mention the fabric isn't as thick as I would prefer in a changing area? I'm thinking two feet of concrete would be more to my liking. Then I bend over to pull my dress pants on and my bottom touches the fabric. I'm imagining the imprint of my ass on the fabric and 6 or 7 instant hard-ons. I'm hoping that someone will just throw water on me and we can cut to the "I'm meeeeellllllting" part.

Some of you may be thinking at this point that I am one whacked-out bitch and no one cares about my damn panties or my ass against the fabric in a dry cleaners. However, if you care to recall one fact all of this may make sense:

I am a female. Any rational thoughts or feelings of logic are feeble at best and do not operate AT ALL when I am PMSing.