Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.
Please note that I am a British female, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat, and the ass is a bum or arse.
I apologise for any typo errors in my story - I edit these myself, and I'm not perfect...
I stood at the sink and washed, first my face, then my arms, then my boobs and finally my groin. I felt for the plug and pulled it, listening to the water as it gurgled away. I ran the cold tap and swirled the water around the sink, hopefully washing away any suds. I could only hope.
Back in my bedroom I opened my top drawer and felt amongst the knickers until I found the ones that I wanted, known, I was told, as boyshorts. They were white and half lacy. All my knickers were white, I always stipulated that when I bought them. Colour was pointless, as were patterns. I didn't mind lace; I could feel the lace patterns.
I don't have an especially fulsome bust, or, to put it another way, I have small tits, I don't quite fill a B cup, so the lady at Marks and Spencer's said when I went for a fitting. I could often go without a bra, but today as I was going into the big outside world, I would wear one. Again it was white, and it was lacy.
I had this trick, I put the bra on backwards, that way it was easier to do up the catch, I then rotated it the right way, slipped the straps over my shoulders and dropped my boobs into the cups. Pretty foolproof I thought. I then opened my wardrobe and felt my dresses, I knew which one I wanted.
Found it, just exactly where I had left it, one and half palms from the right. I stepped into it and put my arms through the straps, trying to line my bra address straps together. Mum had said that I ought to buy dresses with bigger straps so that I could hide my underwear. I just flatly said no. Who in their right mind was going to worry about a visible bra strap? No one, and I didn't care for those not in their right mind.
At the bottom of the wardrobe was my small collection of shoes, and today's selection were the pair second from the left, flat soles, easier for feeling the markings on the pavements, and less likely to turn an ankle too.
From the top of my dressing table I picked up my handbag and felt around inside for the contents. House keys, check. Bus pass, debit and credit card holder, and place for bank notes, check. Tissues, check. Emergency tampon, check. Wet wipes and tissues, check.
I was ready. Today I was going to venture into town, go to the precinct, and buy a coffee and pastry in the Hot Java coffee place. By myself, for the first time. This was what some would call scary, me? I called it absolutely terrifying. I slowly went down the stairs, now was not the time to fall, and went into the kitchen, feeling every switch to make sure that they were off, and that the back door was locked.
I opened my front door, grabbed my stick from by the door and stepped outside into the big and noisy world. I locked the door behind me and took the thirty three paces to the footpath, and turned left, my stick sweeping before me, the ball on the end making an almost imperceptible swoosh as it moved over the path. First lamppost. Second lamppost and then eleven paces and that pole was the bus stop.
I stood facing the road and waited and listened. I heard the cars go past, I heard the vans and a lorry and then I heard the bus. There was a gush of air as it stopped and opened the doors. My only problem was several buses stopped here, and I needed one that would drop me off in the centre of town.
"Excuse me," I said to the open door, "does this town go the Bingley High street?"
"Yes love" a voice said. "There is a small step into the bus, about nine inches."
"Thank you." I waved my stick, found the edge and stepped in. I found my bus pass from in the bag and showed it to where I knew the driver to be. "Can you tell me when we are there, please?"
"Yes love. The second seat on the right is empty. I will call you for your stop."
Not all bus drivers were helpful, for some I was just an inconvenience that slowed them down, but someone always helped, until today that someone had usually been Mum, but today I was on an adventure, by myself for the first time. I had been lucky, a helpful driver.
I swept my stick and found the second seat, checking with hands that it was indeed empty and sat down and stared forwards, listening as the bus doors shut and the lurch as the bus moved forward. This was all familiar, so far. We stopped a few times, usually four stops into town, but the bus didn't always stop at all the stops, I supposed it only stopped if there was someone to get on or off.
"Hello love," the driver called, "the next stop is yours. Don't move until the bus stops, I will give you all the time you need, you don't need to rush."
"Thank you," I answered him, what a great human being.
The bus slowed and then stopped. I stood up, checked I had my bag, and swept my stick as I moved to the front of the bus and to the doors.
"Okay love, you are there, I am right next to the pavement, it is about nine inches down."
I used my stick, found the edge and then the depth and stepped down. I turned around and said, "Thank you so much for your help."
"That's okay love, you have a nice day."
I turned around and stepped away from the edge of the pavement. Now the crossing was around twenty paces uphill from the bus stop. I swept my stick and found the crossing bumps. I then found the crossing post and pressed the button; all I had to do was wait for the beeps.
Safely across the crossing, my next challenge, aka adventure, was finding the coffee shop. The precinct was opposite the bus stop I had arrived on, so that meant I now had to walk around twenty paces downhill and then I would be at the precinct, turn right and the coffee shop was forty paces down and on my left.
I arrived at the coffee shop, and I knew I could get to the counter okay, finding an empty table and seat could be interesting, we would just have to see how I got on. At least I wouldn't be seeking a window seat, that would be pretty pointless.
"Next please," a voice called.
"Is that me?" I asked.
"Yes." The voice replied.
"Thank you. May I have a cappuccino and pastry, please, I don't mind which pastry, and would you be so kind as to bring it to me at my table, only I don't know which table yet."
"No worries, here is a number flag just put it on your table, the server will bring it to you."
I took my debit card out and held it in the approximate direction of the till. Usually the till person holds the payment machine and the customer waves their card. For me it was the other way round. I heard a beep and so I assumed that the till operator had done the wavey thing.
"Could you tell me how much that was please?" I asked.
"Yes, that is seven pounds forty one pence."
"Thank you." That left three hundred and twenty six pounds and seventeen pence in my bank. Few people realised that bank cards had brail on them, and so I knew which card was which and I kept a mental note of exactly how much money I had in my bank. I could go to a cash point and get cash out, but what I could not do was go to a cashpoint and get a balance, I could not read the printed paper slip that they gave you the balance on, so I remembered my balance and took off all my spendings.
I headed off to the table area to find an empty one without groping too many innocent people.
"Excuse me," a voice said to my right, "please do not be offended I am not trying to but in, but may I help you to a table?"
"Golly, yes, thank you," I said.
"I am going to take your arm, okay and I will lead you to a table, it is very busy in here at the moment."
He, the voice was male, or at least it sounded male, took my arm and slowly led me through the tables, I still used my stick to ensure I did not stumble over someone's bags on the floor.
"Here we are." he said, "it is busy in here, do you mind if I share your table?"
I reached out and found the back of a chair and finagled myself into it, I folded my cane and put it on the table, they can be a real trip hazard for other people. When I was happily sat I turned to the direction of the voice. "Yes, my goodness, of course you can share the table, after all, I am only a temporary squatter."
He laughed and I heard the scrape of a chair, then the shuffle sounds as he sat down and then the slight clank as he put his number down.
"I think that you are so brave," he said. "I don't think I could do it."
"Oh, do what?" I asked.
"Go anywhere on my own if I couldn't see."
"I shall let you into a secret, this is my first time, I even caught the bus, and let me tell you, this is not scary, it is absolutely terrifying. I have my Mum on speed dial in case I have a problem, it would be difficult to tell her where I am though, luckily she has an app that tracks me, so she can find me if required."
"My name is Gilbert, or Gil, and I am delighted to have met you, you are such a brave person, really. I don't know how you cope, I really don't."
