I normally don't do garage sales, but on this particular Sunday I was feeling a little whimsical. When I saw the sign, the open garage door, and the items piled around I pulled over to the curb and parked.
Okay, so I was a bit of a womanizer; the first thing I noticed was the brunette behind the card table. She looked like she was in her mid to late thirties, had a pleasant smile and a pleasant shape. I probably spent about as much time looking at her as I did the stuff she was selling.
There were a lot of men's clothes my size.
"If you see anything you want to try on, the spare room is just across from the kitchen," said the woman, gesturing at a door at the back of the garage.
There was also some skiing equipment, a few boxes of records, and the usual garage sale knick knacks. I also spotted a trunk. On top were a neck brace and a back brace. Must've been a bad skier, I mused. Maybe that was why the skiing stuff was for sale. My back had been out a few years before and the doctor said I had a malformed vertebrae in my back. I'd probably throw it out again some day. It wasn't something I really wanted to do repeat though. Then I opened the trunk and looked inside.
There were some blankets and nestled between them a sack that jingled. Looking inside I saw what looked like some kind of medical appliance. A truss or something like that. I looked around and the brunette was selling records to a young blonde thing. I took a couple pairs of pants, the back brace and the sack and went through the door at the back of the garage.
The spare room was right where she said it would be. There were boxes stacked all around the place. She must be having a moving sale, I mused. The pants fit like they were tailor made for me. I tried the back brace and it felt fine. I decided that if I actually bought it I'd never need it and would end up wasting my money. I decided to buy it anyway as a kind of lucky charm -- if I had the thing around maybe I'd never need it. Then I got around to the sack.
I pulled what looked like a metal jock out of the bag. Was this guy into hockey or something? Seemed excessive for groin protection. I pulled the waist band on and clipped it shut. Two chains dangled down my ass cheeks and the front shield dangled behind me. I reached down between my legs to pull it up, but that didn't seem right. I reached into the bag and found some other things were in there. I pulled out a metal tube with two pins on it. It took me a couple of minutes to figure out how it hooked into the front shield, but eventually I got it right. It was obvious that my penis was supposed to go into the tube, so I slid it into place. Geez, but this guy sure wanted to make sure his dick didn't get bruised. It had four settings and I found the one most comfortable for me. The front didn't want to stay attached to the waist band and I knew something else was missing.
Reaching into the bag one more time I pulled out what looked like a lock with a metal knob on it. Why in hell would you have a lock on sports equipment? Well, since I'd come this far I might as well see how it went together. Maybe then I'd figure out what the hell it was for. I slipped the knob and lock assembly on over the pins at the front of the waist band, but the thing didn't seem to want to go into place. I fumbled with the thing for three or four minutes, all the time becoming more impatient with the thing and all the more determined to figure out how the hell it worked.
I gave the thing a little extra push and suddenly everything slid into place.
Shit. The lock had closed without my meaning it to. I rummaged in the sack. One more lock on a metal knob. Nothing else. I pulled at the lock. Nothing doing. I tried to slip the waist band down. It didn't budge. I was stuck. Shit.
I stood there for a minute feeling like a complete idiot before finally pulling my pants on and going out to see the brunette running the sale. I walked out still carrying the sack, the back brace and the clothes I'd tried on.
"Find something you like?" she asked cheerfully.
"Yeah," I replied. "I'd like these, but I seem to be... well... stuck in this jock or truss or whatever it is."
"Truss?" she said, looking puzzled. "I don't have anything like that."
"It was in that trunk there," I said, pointing, "in this bag."
"Oh, my..." she said, starting to grow a smile. "Let's have a look."
Reluctantly, I went back into the spare room with her where I had no choice but to drop my pants.
She began to giggle.
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to stifle her laughter. "That's not a truss. It's a man's chastity belt." She examined it more closely.
"A chastity belt!?" I said, stupidly.
"It was my ex-husband's," she explained, calming down. "I suspected he was cheating on me, so I got him this. I didn't know the bastard made a copy of the key."
Feeling my manhood in jeopardy, I tried to slip the thing off again. I found it was still locked. She seemed amused and continued to talk.
"It's made of stainless steel and lined with neoprene, so it can be worn for a long time without unlocking it. It fits nice and close, which makes it hard to cut off. And the lock rests behind this steel flange, so it can't be cut off. It's supposed to be escape-proof and tamper-proof," she added, with a smug little smile. "Anyway, it seems to fit you perfectly. You must be sized the same as him. These are supposed to be custom fitted."
"Would you mind unlocking it?" I said. I was certain she'd be telling me about this all day, if I let her.
"You want to buy it?" she said with an impish smile.
I started to consider how much damage my bank account could afford. She must've seen the look on my face because she began to giggle again.
"Don't worry! I'll unlock it for you first thing tomorrow whether you buy it or not."
"Tomorrow!" I exclaimed.
"Everything's packed!" she said, spreading her hands. "I promise I'll look for the key, but I'll probably have to go to the bank and get the spare from my safe deposit box. It's Sunday and they're closed until tomorrow. Here. We better put the other lock on for comfort sake."
CLICK. Another lock made sure the penis tube stayed attached to the front shield. Just then she heard another car pull up.
"The sale!" she said and was gone.
I ended up running the sale for the rest of the day while she looked for the key. It was getting late when I finally had to give up for the night and go home.
"I'm really sorry," she said, with that impish grin and giggle which implied she was anything but. "You know, it kind of serves you right for checking me out earlier. Oh yeah, I saw you sizing me up."
"Hey, I didn't mean anything..." I started, feeling a little panicked.
"Relax," she giggled. "I'll get the keys from the bank tomorrow. Stop back here and I'll get you out. Or if you decide you like it, don't," she added, impish again.
"I'll see you tomorrow," I said.
Monday morning my shower took longer than usual. I followed the instructions the woman had given me and used a hair dryer to get the water from under the belt. Then I used talcum powder under the waist band. Time consuming, but not too difficult. The night had been restless, but I had to go in to work. I wasn't on the best of terms with the boss at that time and couldn't risk calling in sick that morning. What happened next made me wish I had.
"Corporate wants the new scheduling system set up immediately. You're to leave for Portland today."
"Today? But, I can't. I'm meeting this woman..."
"And I'm sick and tired of covering for your womanizing."
"But, it's not like that..." I stammered.
"You'll be on that plane this afternoon or on the unemployment line tomorrow. End of discussion."
Great. No time to chase across town to the woman's house. Word got around fast that the boss was ready to take my head off at the knees, so no one was willing to do me any favors. I couldn't find anyone to go there for me. I thought I should phone her. Then it occurred to me that not only did I not have her phone number, I didn't even know her name.
Reluctantly, I quickly packed a bag and headed for the airport. I was thoroughly humiliated at the airport metal detectors, had to go to a private room for an inspection, and almost missed my plane.
That night I went down to the hotel's bar before going to sleep. I sat glumly at the bar, looking at the women there that I couldn't have. The belt was uncomfortable and it definitely cramped my style. Once woman came on to me and I told her I couldn't.
"Married, huh?" she asked sadly.
"Worse," I muttered, paying my tab and leaving.
It was three days before I got back to town. And I had to go through the same nonsense at the airport on the way back. At least I was getting used to the feel of this belt. The first couple of days had been almost unbearable.
As soon as I finished at the office, I drove back to the woman's house. I was supposed to have been there Monday and here it was Thursday. What I saw made my heart sink. The house was empty. Utterly and completely empty.
She had moved.
I asked her neighbors where she'd gone. They either didn't know or weren't telling. She'd been trying to get away from a guy. Bad relationship.
I couldn't believe it.
The post office must have a forwarding address. I sent her a letter asking her to send me the keys. A day went by. Then a week. Finally, I found a letter in my box. It was the one I'd sent. Return to sender. No forwarding address on file.
I've been placing newspaper ads locally, but I don't know if she's even still in this city. I'll try other cities next, but which do I try? It's such a shot in the dark.
On a good note, with my womanizing days ended and my productivity up the boss is happy with me again. It looks like I might even be headed for a promotion.
Sometimes I wonder if that woman ever looks at that key, thinks about me and smiles that impish smile?
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Page last updated 97-Dec-11 by: Altairboy@aol.com