1970 seemed to Sid the year that the excitement had ended. The mini skirt had turned to the dull maxi skirt, free love replaced by Mary Whitehouse and even the cars looked dull and unimaginative in design.
They were like blue or silver cigarette cases on wheels.
The sixties had been great, full of taboo breaking sex, brilliant music, and rebellion against The Old Etonian establishment. At least this is what he had read about. The problem for Sid is that had never happened to him, he had never even seen it. At 22 he already had slightly receding thinning blond hair, at 6 foot 2, he stooped as he walked, wondering if anyone noticed him. It seemed they didn't. He had a boring, meaningless job, and he lived in a dull, tidy flat.
But: he did have porn. Magazines, books, even some audio tapes. How he loved to read about gay and lesbian sex, to look at pictures, to pay his tribute in gasping, desperate, lonely orgasm. He wanted cunt, cock, breasts, anything to pour his spunk onto or into.
Then the cold reality, alone, missing so much. The bitter feeling of missing out, it was almost like bereavement. "How much life have I got, and already so much wasted?"
The Sex Shop.
Sid the dull often walked along the dull street, where the drab first floor flat gave shelter from the grey weather. But under the flat there was something that seemed far from dull: a sex shop book shop.
Not that he really knew, never having gone in there, and the windows were boarded up with cardboard from the inside. He had seen this beautiful doll like girl come in and out of there quite a lot. Black with a sweet face, she had tiny hands and neat pert breasts under her clinging sweater. If you can be a wicked angel, she looked the part.
He often wondered what the shop was like, and even more what she would be like to talk with. That was what he dreamed off with her, to have a conversation, for him not to be put down, or looked on as boring.
The shop did not close till 11pm, so one night Sid decided to go down and walk into the shop, maybe just look at books and say hi! Maybe the doll like beauty would smile, say hello and kiss him. No, just go in and look, just put a toe in the water, just a start!
He walked down the stairs, out into the cold, round to the front door, and then..........stopped, unable to move backwards or forwards. For several minutes, but it felt like years, he stood in the cold and the dark, a mass of fear and indecision.
Finally he retreated to his lonely flat, tears and frustration his only companions, lonely, horny, but so down because he could do nothing about it.
Months passed, his drab world offering nothing but work and dullness. Several times he got close to going to the shop, sometimes by the door, or on the stairs, or just having the thought of going.
