Quote:
Originally Posted by willymccoy
I was always sure someone driving by on the busy road would recognize me, freak-out and call my parents or older siblings or else they'd see my school uniform and call my school. I was also sure that someone from my class would see me there, figure out what I was doing and make my school life a living hell.
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And there I was thinking it was just me!
I was always nervous when buying smut for that very reason. I was sure that someone I knew who would not approve would walk into the shop at the very moment I was standing at the counter, mags in hand, waiting to pay.
I was also very self-conscious if it was a female serving at the till. Particularly a pretty girl. If it was a pretty girl, more often than not I'd just leave and go find another shop if I wasn't in a hurry. Older women not so much, they probably saw the same thing several times a day and they were generally pretty cool and non-judgemental about it (no disapproving looks etc.). But you don't always rationalise it like that at the time, so it could still be a bit embarrassing. If it was a bloke serving, it wasn't so bad.
On one occasion (I'd have been about 16 at the time), I was in a newsagent's shop at the till paying for a copy of "Whitehouse" (the Sullivan mags, which with hindsight were pretty tame, were the nearest thing to hardcore on open sale in the UK at the time), when suddenly another customer - a fearsome old battleaxe of a woman - appeared at my shoulder and started lecturing me very loudly and very angrily about how disgusting such material was and how I should be ashamed of myself for looking at it and what would my mother think if she knew blah blah blah. With hindsight I should have told her to "go forth" and mind her own business. Or maybe said something 'clever' like "I suppose a toothless blow-job's out of the question then granny?!" But as it was she took me so much by surprise that I was just rooted to the spot and said nothing.
The guy at the till took my cash, at which point I beat a hasty exit from the shop - mag stashed under my jacket - and I never went back there again.