No need to merely window shop when you find yourself horny on the high street… There’s a surprising number of places to go down in downtown.
I know at least one obliging shop assistant in Birmingham city centre who will pop into your changing cubical and gladly lend a hand should you require one. He makes a show of nipping in and out to fetch various items, maintaining the illusion of diligently tending to customer needs, for the benefit of CCTV.
One way to get ahead in retail.
In one department store, I visited the restrooms and found myself distracted at the urinals by a fellow shopper.
Our furtive fumbling was interrupted by the arrival of store security. We quickly rearranged ourselves and tried not to look too flustered, but it became clear the security guy was interested in the same thing we were when he flashed more than his ID.
He motioned me to join him in an empty toilet stall.
I hesitated, “I don’t want to be caught in there.”
“Who’s going to catch you? I’m security … and I’ll be in there with you.”
Unconvinced, I pointed to the bodycam at his chest and asked, “What about that?”
“It’s only turned on when needed,” he replied, which was more than could be said about him.
I’d heard rumour of a Pakistani lad at a furniture business who was grateful for any distraction from the tedium of manning the family store.
I called in to see if I could provide relief.
After several minutes of me feigning interest in flatpack furniture, the guy asked, “Are you on Grindr?”
The next thing, he popped a ‘Back in five minutes’ sign on the door, manhandled a mattress into position to block the view through the shopwindow and led me to the rear of the shop.
We were getting down to business (at the family business) when he suddenly cocked his head and anxiously listened for sounds.
“Is everything Ok?”
“Yes, I think so,” he replied. “I thought for a moment my uncle was back from the warehouse.”
I had unexpectedly found myself in a variation of that scene from My Beautiful Laundrette, where Daniel Day-Lewis and his mate nearly get caught in the act at the back of the launderette .
It was a false alarm.
One evening, on my way home from work, I received Grindr messages inviting me to meet some guy at a location in Birmingham’s Southside District.
It turned out to be a fast-food outlet. When I arrived, I could see the guy stood at his post through the shop’s floor to ceiling glass frontage. I walked in and joined him behind the counter, where he unzipped and invited me to play in plain sight of the wide window and unlocked door. I dropped below counter. For anyone passing it would look like the guy was on his own… but with a very satisfied smile on his face.
I did wonder ‘What would I do if a customer came in?; I decided, if they had only called in for takeaway, I would remain hidden, but if they were dinning in, I would have to reveal my presence. I couldn’t remain crouched behind a counter for the entirety of their meal… my knees wouldn’t take it! I would just pop up and declare something along the lines of, “Well, your pipes seem in full working order. I’ll send you my invoice,” and stroll out.
“Let’s go upstairs,” the guy suggested.
He locked the entrance and led me to a door at the back of the shop.
“I can’t turn on the lights,” he explained, “and we will have to be quiet as there is someone in the office.”
I was led down a dark corridor, passing a frosted office window, through which I could make out the shape of a man sat behind a desk and vaguely hear him talking on his phone. We crept silently up the stairs, flattening ourselves against the wall and keeping to the shadows.
The upper floor was a spacious area strewn with old business papers and office furniture. I was led to the rear most room and basked in the illumination of a streetlight outside the window.
Afterwards, as we descended the stairs, the guy from the office appeared in his doorway.
Quick as a flash, I announced, “Well, I’ll certainly consider renting the space. I’ll be in touch.”
“Thank you,” my new acquaintance played along, “I look forward to hearing from you.”
I engaged the perplexed colleague in an awkwardly sticky handshake and quickly departed.
Next time you walk by a shop displaying a sign stating ‘BACK IN FIVE MINUTES’, wonder what is happening behind closed doors… and hope they have rinsed their hands before reopening for business.
