"And how about you, sir? Could we have a look what's inside your bag?"
It's a sunny afternoon in late spring. I'm walking home from work, mindlessly navigating the traditional obstacle course to avoid the street vendors, chuggers, and sundry influencers getting in the way. It takes a moment for me to register that the question is meant for me, and I look up in amazement.
The first thing I notice is the professional camera, pointing in my direction. All right, that is a lie. The camera may be the third thing I notice, or even the fourth.
The first thing I see, I'm a bit embarrased to say, is an amazing cleavage. The young woman asking is wearing a Lycra sleeveless crop top that shows off a flat stomach, and, more significantly, manages to push her ample bust up and out, creating curves you can lose yourself in. The second thing that catches my eye, when I consciously tear my gaze away from the astonishing cleavage, is the outline of her vulva. She is very obviously a woman, clad in yoga hotpants that are tight enough to show off every detail. Only then do I see her face. She's young, almost half my age, in her early twenties. She's very pretty, with long blonde locks and big blue eyes. Then, finally, I notice the camera.
"Your bag, sir?" the blonde asks again.
"My bag?" I stammer as my gaze magically gets drawn into the depths of her cleavage again. I tear my eyes away from her breasts, only to get lost in her equally enticing pale blue eyes. I suddenly realise who she is.
She is Lexi, a.k.a. the Bag Lady, famous on the Insta, the 'Tube, TikTok and every other social media platform in existence. Her content consists entirely of viral film clips that show her rummaging through people's handbags or backpacks and displaying what's in them, while she shows off as much skin as platform guidelines allow.
"My bag. Right. Well, nooo, I don't think so, love." I really can't have her go through my bag now. Not with the thing I just purchased, the thing that's now hiding in there, in a plain black plastic bag of its own.
"Oh, come on, sir!" She bats her eyelids at me and pushes up her ample bosom in my direction. This woman sure knows how to convince slightly horny middle-aged men, I can tell you that. "What could possibly go wrong?" she quips.
I'm only too aware of what could go wrong.
"For one thing, it'll probably go viral," I blurt out.
Oh, no. Why did I say that?
Well, to be honest, it's been a long time since a good-looking young woman flirted with me, even if it is obviously fake flirting. I find myself quite powerless at her charms. The sensation is almost cartoon-like, as if I have a 'horny me' sitting on my left shoulder, and a 'sensible me' sitting on my right, and both are yelling at me what to do. Right now, the horny side is winning. The beauty of her smile, not to mention the beauty of certain other assets that she keeps trying to push into my face, shoves my sensible side into the back seat.
The camera zooms in on me, while I try with all my might not to zoom in on her gorgeous tits again. At least, my sensible side thinks, she caught me coming from work. I'm wearing an acceptable shirt and reasonably stylish jacket. Her bright smile hypnotises me further. I hear myself say "Oh why not, let's do this."
'Noooo!' my sensible side screams into my ear. 'You idiot! I'll tell you why not! It's that package! In the black plastic bag! Run, before you get ruined!'
But my horny side makes me stay, entranced by this young woman.
As if by magic a small table appears. Lexi takes my bag off my shoulder and puts it on the table. It is a nice satchel bag, larger than your average handbag but smaller than a briefcase, made of recycled banners and car seat belts, sturdy, practical and stylish. She compliments me on the bag.
As she admires it, I try hard - and fail - not to stare too openly at the curvaceous bum she stretches towards me. It has that perfect rounded heart-shape. Thong knickers, I notice. Of course.
I start sweating profusely when she puts the first items on the table. "Smartphone. Power bank. Cable. Purse. Deodorant. Packet of chewing gum. Keys, notebook, pen." She looks at me, puzzled. "What about this bag will make this clip go viral, again, sir?" she teases.
"You'll see," my horny side tells her. My sensible side screams at myself to shut the bleep up.
And yes, then she finds the offending object. It's an oblong package, wrapped in a discreet black plastic bag.
"Well, well, well? What's this?"
Of course, I know very well what 'this' is. 'This' is, I am both ashamed and excited to admit, a beautiful black leather paddle. It's both elegant and well-made. I just purchased it from the upmarket 'adult store' around the corner.
Why have I just purchased a paddle? To be honest, I'm not quite sure myself. Of course, I've always had a serious spanking fetish, but until now I'd kept that a deep dark secret.
None of my former partners ever found out that I harboured a deep desire to turn them over my knee and spank their behinds until they begged for mercy. Or came. Or, preferably, both. Nor did I ever tell any of those former lovers that I would have gladly gone over their laps for a similar treatment. Spanker or spankee, as long as behinds were getting thoroughly smacked, I would have been happy. Somehow, I never dared tell.
That would be one part of the explanation. Another would be that I'm bored with my life. Bored, bored, bored. I'm in my early forties. My love life has been non-existent for a few years now, my teaching job at a university is steady, but rather a dead-end. My friends are amazing but settling down more and more. Life feels like a repetition of the same dull moves every day.
So, when I passed the adult store, I acted on a whim. I went inside and bought the paddle, resolving there and then to start trying to find someone to use it on. Or to have it used on me. Maybe practice some self-spanking, for all I cared. As long as behinds are getting thoroughly smacked, right?
Only to run into the Bag Lady, her cleavage, and her camera.
'You can still leave! Grab your things and go!' my sensible side screams. But my horny side takes another good look into Lexi's big blue eyes. "Go on, open it" I hear myself say.
'Nooo!' But sensible me knows it's too late now. Viral it is...
Lexi's long fingers deftly unpack the paddle. "Oooh, what's this? Someone's been naughty?"
"Oh, I don't know. Have you?" I hear myself flirt back. The sensible part of my brain harrumphs in disgust, and shuts down completely, leaving Horny Me at the helm.
She asks, purring, "Are you going to use it on someone? Or will someone use it on you?" Sexy Lexi hands me the paddle back.
