Not-So Kinky Boots

We sat at the bus stop.

We wanted to get into town, and it would be far quicker to bus it than click-clacking all the way down the uneven Leith Walk in our new punk, spiked heels.

So we sat there, ears blasted with K$sha on repeat: "Die Young", "Don't Stop", "Tik Tok", "We R Who We R", "Die Young", "We R Who We R." Those last two are our favourites. 

If that ain't obvious?

Oh, yeah. It would probably help if we introduced ourselves. Scarlett, you will already know. 

Alright? 

And I'm Byron. It's alright, you can take a photo. You can stare. I love it. 

Easy, Byron. 

Mmm, yes, my nickname, “Easy Byron”. 

Ha. 

So anyway, we sat there, the two of us, sharing our one body, reading something on our phone, when he sat next to us. 

His words are slurred. He's been drinking. He smells something fierce - like he’d just stumbled out a brewery at closing time. All hops and beer. 

It’s so intoxicating. We breathe it in. This is the closest we can get to alcohol. We are allergic. 

He gets talking. Calls us "pet" and "hen" and asks if I was part of a Fringe Show, pointing to our new, impractically perfect boots. He thinks we are hot.

"A big lass".

His eyes move over my body, as if peering right through my clothes. Over our developing tits. Down the soft rolls of my stomach. To my tuck. I don't think he knows we are a Doll. 

I tell him in code.

When he asks if I have kids - he was talking about his grandkids, he was 74 - I told him I want kids one day, but I can't. I don't have the right plumbing. I do love a good euphemism. 

We part ways. He respects that we have a boyfriend and says that my boyfriend was a lucky man. 

No. No. We're the lucky ones. Tom is an angel. 

Parts of us were nervous. We’ve always struggled with male attention. But me? ... That was the first time anyone ever did that to me. I only emerged last week. And to know that me and Scarlett can have that effect on people, well... this old 27-year-old’s still got it. 

Behave Byron. 

I am behaving... badly. So very ... very ... badly. And I love it. 

So that is the story of how, on Monday, the 25th of August at 3:15 PM, I was propositioned by a 74-year-old in town. A rather sweet tale in its simplicity. And while nothing happened between us, for a short while, it made us feel good. Made us feel attractive. Made us feel desirable. Sexy. Feelings that we don't always feel. 

I know... terrible of me, but true.  

I am, like Scarlett, a sexual being. And I ain't ashamed to admit it.