Enters

I walk from my car to the supermarket, feeling quite exposed, and fearing that my arousal is obvious. I hurry inside, and rush to get my required items. The items I was ordered to acquire. The rushing probably exposed more of me than a slower pace, so i slow down. Trying not to think of what I might have let be seen, I walk at a slower pace. Even more consious of the potential of being seen, exposed. Rushing would cause me to be harder to see, to have my hard nipples harder to see. But, really, I'm not superman or something, rushing will just cause my skirt to rise and quarantee that I flash people.

So I walk at a slower pace. I nod to myself. People will have a longer opportunity to see me, to have me imprinted into their mind. My flushed and aroused state. Moving through the supermarket buying the items my Mistress has ordered me to buy, I feel eyes on me. Do they know? How can they not know? It may or may not odd to buy these three specific items and nothing else, but why would anyone leap to the correct conclusion?

Licking my lips, several random and jumbled thought rush through my scattered and foggy mind. I tend to be more cautious, more careful of what people can and cannot see. But, in my heightened state of arousal, I made several foolish mistakes. I do not normally dress this way in public despite owning a couple of these types of clothing lying around . . .because sometimes I like wearing them at home and imagine. I also do not normally shop in a supermarket in a heightened state of arousal. Do they know? Can they tell?

It is a mistake, I know. Like going to the food store while hungry. You make odd purchases doing that. Stare at something and think, do I want to eat that? Being hungry, the answer could easily be yes, when it’s something I might not otherwise buy. Or going to a clothing store while naked. Well, no, I’d need to have some way to pay, and, well. Hmm, I suppose there are some ways . . . I’d probably grab and wear whatever I could find that would cover me up, regardless if it was something I’d otherwise wear.

My attempts at distracting myself, to redirect my thoughts away from thinking about people seeing me, people's eyes staring, judging. Swallowing hard, I look around. Saturday night, and rushing almost nude through my local supermarket. I am not certain what the normal crowd situation is like at the market. I am not sure if I am disappointed or relieved to find that the supermarket is mostly empty. Possibly both.

Enough trying to distract myself. enough trying to hide what probably cannot be hidden. My hunger is too great.

I grab a rather large cucumber, some small apples, and fifty clothing pins. Moving so fast probably exposed me to anyone, looks around quickly, sees no one, that might be around. And why the heck do they store clothing pins with the fruit and vegetables?

Good thing self-serve lines exist. No way I'd have been able to get myself through and outside otherwise. I rush through the self-serve line. Please work, please work. Uh. Hmm. What the heck am I supposed to do again to buy items without scanning codes on them? Whimpers softly to myself.

Squeaks and jumps, knowing that I'm flashing anyone looking . . . well in my direction. An arm had appeared while I was distratedly starring at an apple. A hand, attached to that arm naturally, types on the machine, my mind is too blurry to recall what that thing is called, and my items are rung up for me. I hear a grunt, and I spin to thank them, but they've already walked too far away.

I'm sure I'd normally be rushing out the door now, but I find myself just standing there. Barely clothed. I know I flashed whoever that was. And they said nothing to me. Didn't linger. Just rang me up. And now I'm distracting myself on words. Rung? Rang? bah. Now I'm just distracting myself from the realization that they had no desire to stare at the barely clothed woman dripping with need, smelling of desperation.

Back to my car I go. Licking and chewing on my lips, walking slower than I expected to be at this point. Gasping, wait wait wait, the quicker I get home the quicker I can have fun, the quicker I can see Mistress again.