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ORIGINAL: ResidentSadist

-=epilogue=-



I went shopping.  I put Vaseline, milk, baby oil, eggs, baby-oil-gel, butter and margarine in my basket.  I get to the check out counter and a sweet working wifey type named Marissa is my check out girl.  Robotically she smiles and says hello, then starts passing my items over the scanner not actually perceiving what they were.  She was on autopilot so to speak.  She scans the milk, eggs extra large sized baby oil, then grabs the family sized tub of Vaseline and butter when . . . the scanner fails.

Her autopilot disengages and she looks down at the big tub of Vaseline and butter in her hands.  I see a mischievous wrinkle in her brow as if these two items somehow triggered a fond sensual memory.  She glances to the left and sees the large bottle of baby oil and looks to right at the yet to be scanned items, which include baby-oil-gel and margarine.  It sorta' looked like a neon sign saying "sex lube" went off in her head as she shifted her gaze back and forth over the items surveying the variety and quantity of lubes on her counter.

She took a last glance at the Vaseline and butter before shifting her semi-perplexed gaze upon me.  She didn't say a word but made an expression with her face and shrugged the two items which seemed to reflect the question, "what on Earth requires this much lube?"  Looking straight into her quizzical eye I said, "Last Tango in Paris".  Her face and chest flushed . . . she put on a coy pose, dipped her head a little, then looked up and smiled with a big mischievous grin.  I don't think she previously realized her thoughts had been so transparent.  She gave me a sly nod of acknowledgement like we were comrades with a common cause before returning to her duties and cashing me out.  It was kind of cute discovering check out girl number 3 was a little bit kinky.

Needless to say . . . my house is no longer short on anal lube.