I’m standing outside Thrust and Velvet, of all places. A sex shop you glimpse from the motorway, large neon pink sign hanging over the door and mirrored windows. I’ve driven past it a hundred times, always with a smug little as if smirk. But here I am, engine still ticking, hands gripping the wheel ready to reverse back onto the road.

I’d thought about ordering something online, scrolled through pages of glossy, suspiciously perfect twenty-year-olds modelling tiny straps of PVC and vinyl over massively inflated breasts. None of it looked like something I could wear. Then I remembered this place. It took me a full week to work up the nerve, but Josh is coming over tomorrow, so it’s now or never.

I hover outside the door for a solid minute, pretending to check my phone. My heart’s thudding like I’m about to break into MI5. The door beeps as I finally push it open, an artificial chirp that somehow makes it worse. Inside, it’s an assault of the senses. Bright. And overwhelming. Wall-to-wall silicone, clamps, latex, leather, lace and shiny things I can’t even identify. Daunting doesn’t begin to cover it.

I drift awkwardly between aisles before I stop in front of a rack of lacy knickers that definitely aren’t what I came in for, but it’s easier than staring directly at the wall of rubber cocks behind me. I’m about five seconds away from bolting when someone appears beside me.

“Can I help you?”

I startle. A young woman, maybe mid-twenties with long black hair, winged eyeliner and a lip ring. Her demeanor is one of calm indifference and I feel no sense of judgment.

“Uhh...” I hesitate. “Sorry, this is all new to me. I don’t really know what I’m doing”

She smiles kindly. “That’s alright. It’s new to everyone at some point. Did you have something in mind? Is it for you, a partner, or...?”

“So, there’s this guy I’ve been seeing...”

She tilts her head. “Yeah?”

“He’s into, like... shiny stuff. PVC, latex, that kind of thing.”

“Gotcha,” she grins. “Come with me.”

She leads me toward the back of the shop where there are racks of lingerie in every colour, shape and fabric imaginable. My stomach tightens.

“You’re about an eight?” she asks, flipping through hangers like a stylist in a porno version of Pretty Woman.

“Urm... yeah, usually.”

“Any colour preferences?”

“I don’t know. Black, I guess?”

She nods, pulls a few pieces off the rails; corsets, bodysuits, thongs. Then leads me to a changing room and leaves me to it.

The first thing I try on feels ridiculous; stiff. Plastic-y. But then I catch sight of myself in the mirror and... I don’t hate it. The way the corset pulls me in, how my waist looks and the line of my thighs. It’s unfamiliar, but not awful. I turn to examine myself from all angles. Dare I say it, I look fucking sexy. I try to picture in my mind Josh’s reaction, imagining his eyes bulging from his head like a cartoon character, tongue lolling out of his mouth and saliva dripping on the carpet. By the time I emerge, I’ve picked two corsets with matching underwear and the shop assistant raises an approving brow.

“You’re going to a lot of effort for this guy?” she says at the till, folding everything into a black paper bag.

“Yeah I guess. Thanks for your help. Honestly.”

“No problem at all. Really glad to help.” She winks at me encouragingly. 

I blush. “Thanks.”

.......

I’ve cleaned the house until my hands felt raw, even though I know Josh won’t notice. So long as there’s not a pair of boxers hanging from the lampshade he’ll be impressed. But it makes me feel better, calmer, more in control. I’m wearing one of the corsets under a structured black dress; high neckline, sleek cut. Just enough to hide the surprise. 

When the bell rings, my stomach flips as I open the door. He’s there, casual as ever, always handsome without even trying. Hoodie, messy hair, jeans that hang on his hips. His energy bubbles under the surface, bright and boyish.

“Wow,” he says, stepping inside. “Your house is awesome. Do I get a tour?”

He nods towards the photo on the wall; Cassie, aged eleven, her school portrait. 

“That your daughter?”

“Yeah. Cassie.”

The sudden reminder of real life hits hard, like cold water splashing my face. It feels wrong, somehow, to have her smiling face here in the middle of this strange, secret thing I’m building with Josh.

I shake it off. “Drink?”

“Yeah, please. You look... good. Kinda posh, though. Just for hanging out?”

I try to retain my composure as I lead the way into the kitchen, handing him a beer from the fridge and one for myself.

“Well,” I say, cracking it open, “it’s the only thing in my wardrobe that could hide your surprise present.”

He raises an eyebrow, “surprise?”

I sip, “come on. I’ll show you around first.”

The house tour doesn’t take long. As he moves from room to room, I watch him take in the details: the white walls, the wooden floors, the soft pastel accents. It is nothing extravagant, just calm and feminine. I stripped away every trace of the masculine after my ex-husband left, turning the space into a sanctuary for Cassie and me. It is ours, light and girly, and completely free of any male energy. At least, it was, until this boy stepped inside.

I open my bedroom door. “So... this is the bedroom.”

Josh flings himself onto the bed like a teenager in a hotel for the first time. “Nice bed.”

He leans back onto his elbows and grins. “So... what’s the surprise?”

I step back. “Well, since we’re in the right room...”

I reach behind, slowly lowering the zip of my dress and letting it fall; I watch it drop and pool on the floor like a puddle. Beneath it, the black PVC corset gleams in the low light, the high-cut thong digging a little into my flesh. My eyes stay down a moment, half-shy, but curiosity gets the better of me and I am compelled to look back up. Josh’s eyes are wide, jaw-on-the-floor wide.

“Oh fuck, Alice. Jesus fucking Christ.”

He’s on his feet in seconds, crossing the room, hands already sliding along the tacky, slick material of the corset.

“Good present?” I ask, voice small but smug.

He looks like he’s been knocked sideways.

“Best I’ve ever had.”

His hands skim along the sides of the corset, fingertips grazing the glossy surface like he’s handling something precious. His breath is shallow, chest rising and falling as he takes a step back to look at me properly.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. “You look... unreal.”

I feel exposed in the quiet, it’s not the corset exactly, it’s the way he’s looking at me and seems hardly able to speak. He walks around me slowly, one hand brushing down my spine, stopping just above my buttocks. The other runs lightly across my hip, then up to the edge of the bodice. I don’t move, just breathe, trying to stay in the moment without disappearing into self-consciousness. Finally he breaks the silence.

“I thought you couldn’t get any hotter,” he murmurs, “shit.”

He leans in, lips against my ear. “I want to fuck you just like this? Keep the corset on. Would you like that?”

A shiver runs through me. He’s good at this. Good at the voice, the tone, the way his hands know exactly how much pressure to apply. His fingers slide between the straps at the side, tugging gently, teasing, but then I surprise both of us. I turn, catch his wrist, and push him gently backwards until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Sit,” I say. Not quite bossy, but close.

He obeys, eyebrows raised, a smirk flickering at the edge of his mouth. “Oh... okay.”

I climb onto his lap slowly, straddling him, the PVC creaking softly with each movement. I can feel how hard he is beneath me, even through the layers, and I rock forward just enough to make him groan.

“You liked shiny things,” I say, voice low.

“I do,” he breathes, “so much.”

“Good. Then hands behind your back. I don’t want you to dull the gleam.”

He blinks. “You’re serious?”

I nod. “Unless you want me to stop.”

“No. Fuck. No, don’t stop.”

He folds his arms behind him and stays still, eyes locked on mine, chest tight with anticipation. I run my hands up his torso, slowly unzipping his hoodie, then his jeans. Taking my time and letting him squirm.

“You’ve had a lot to say,” I murmur, pressing my mouth just below his ear, “now I think it’s my turn.”

He exhales sharply. “Jesus, Alice.”

I lean back slightly, rolling my hips against him, slow and deliberate. I’ve never done anything like this before, never taken charge, but something about the way he looks up at me makes it feel natural. I know I’ve given him something he wants and the way his eyes tell me I’m the materliasation of every dream he’s ever had gives me something too. It’s so different with Josh, I feel totally confident in what I’m doing and free from my usual fear of being judged. In the past I’ve always let the guy take the lead, but now I’m discovering that I like being the one who decides when it speeds up and when it stops. 

He shifts under me, restrained by nothing but the promise not to touch. The tension in his shoulders is delicious. I press down again, slowly, feeling the hard line of him through his briefs, letting the friction tease us both.

“Still good?” I ask, even though I can see it all over his face.

His breath catches. “You have no fucking idea.”

I smile and slide off his lap, kneeling between his legs. I tug his underwear lower, just enough, and the sight of him; hard, flushed, ready, it makes something twist deep in my stomach. He’s beautiful like this. Desperate, obedient, eyes on me like I’m the answer to every question he ever asked. I trail a single finger along the line of his thigh, watching him twitch.

“You want me to touch you?” I ask.

“God, yes,” he exhales, long and slow.

“But you’re not going to move?”

He nods quickly. “No. I won’t. I swear.”

I take him in hand, slow and firm, and he lets out a strangled sound, head tipping back. My other hand presses against his stomach, holding him in place. I stroke him in slow, even motions, watching his muscles tighten, his jaw clench. He’s already so close to falling apart.

“I could make you come just like this,” I say, voice calm. “Without even taking off my thong.” I slow down just enough to keep him on the edge.

“Jesus, Alice,” he groans, “you’re killing me.”

“Good.”

I let go and crawl back into his lap, positioning myself over him, the slick between my thighs making the friction almost unbearable. He makes a broken sound as I slide my hand between us, guiding him in; not all at once, just the tip, just enough.

“You said you wanted to fuck me in this,” I whisper.

He nods frantically, throat croaking with a muffled cry.

“So do it,” I murmur, “but don’t move until I say.”

He groans again, hands still behind him, trembling with restraint. I sink down onto him slowly, inch by inch, and his whole body shudders beneath me. I’m soaking, tight, stretched. The PVC squeaks with each shift of my hips.

“Fuck,” he whispers, “you feel... oh. Fuck.”

I start to move, slow and controlled, rolling my hips while his eyes flutter shut. I press my palms to his chest to steady myself, riding him at my own pace, savouring the power, the way he pants. Every time he tries to thrust up, I stop and still him with a glance or a shift of weight. He obeys, biting his lip so hard I worry it might bleed.

“You like this?” I ask.

“Too much,” he chokes out.

I speed up, just a little, enough to start building something hot and dangerous in my own belly. When I lean forward and kiss him, it’s messy, hot and full of need. His hands twitch, aching to touch, but he waits and that, somehow, makes it even better. He’s close; I can see it in the way his jaw tightens, the way his breath gets ragged, his body straining under mine.

“Fuck, Alice,” he gasps. “I can’t... I’m gonna…”

I watch him come undone beneath me, his mouth falling open, body jerking as he pulses inside me. I stay still, heart pounding, sweat cooling on my skin, his hands softening on my hips. He blinks up at me, dazed and smiling, and tugs me down into a messy kiss. I kiss him back, but something’s tugging at the edge of me. That tight coil in my belly never quite snapped. It’s still there, stubborn, unresolved. He leans back, panting, brushing a hand across my thigh.

“That was... fuck,” he says. 

I smile faintly and slide off his lap, the stickiness between us uncomfortable now that the rush has passed. I slip off his lap and adjust the corset, hands smoothing over the creases more out of reflex than vanity. My body still hums, something restless lingering under the surface. Josh lies back on the bed, flushed and smiling, looking faintly stunned. His chest rises and falls as he stares at the ceiling, then turns his head and looks at me, eyes sparkling.

“I can’t believe you got that, like, for me?” he says, quieter now, but there’s no teasing in it, just wonder.

I glance down at the glossy black material, then shrug, half-smiling. “Yeah, I did.”

He props himself up on one elbow, his expression softening. “That’s... I don’t know. That’s kind of the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

I laugh gently, not unkindly. “You need to raise your bar.”

He smiles, but doesn’t let me deflect. “No, seriously. You didn’t have to. I didn’t expect it. But you did. And you look... wow… incredible.”

I pull the throw across my lap and sit on the edge of the bed, suddenly a little too aware; there’s still an old echo of uncertainty in me that I can’t quite shake.

“I don’t usually do things like this,” I say softly. “Not because I don’t want to, just... I don’t know. You bring something out in me.”

Josh doesn’t speak right away. When I glance over, he’s watching me with that same open, slightly awestruck look. 

“I’m not very good at this,” I say, “at being seen, I mean, and giving in to what I want. You being so young and this PVC thing, it’s all very out of character for me.”

“You’re doing fine,” he says, still watching me carefully.

I let out a breath, not quite a laugh. “Sorry. I’m a bit of a mess sometimes.”

He sits up and shifts closer, still not touching, but close enough that I can feel the heat of him. “I don’t think you’re a mess. I think you’re... honest, and hot, and really fucking surprising.”

That makes me laugh properly. “Surprising?”

“Yeah.” He grins, then shrugs, a little sheepish. “Like, one minute you’re telling me about some clever app you’re building, and the next you’re in PVC looking like my ultimate fantasy. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

His voice is earnest, and for the first time I feel like I’m really looking at him, really seeing. And what I see is not just lust, or awe, but the simple fact of his gratitude. 

I exhale slowly. “Sorry. I sound ridiculous.”

“No,” he says softly, “you don’t.”

His hand rests on my thigh, not groping, just warm and grounding. Somehow, with this small gesture, my every frantic thought evaporates. I no longer feel uncertain or out of place, I feel seen in a way I didn’t realise I’d been missing.

“I want to do something for you,” he says, easing me back onto the bed with careful hands, kissing the inside of my arm as he lowers me down. Then he moves between my thighs and trails kisses up the inside of my legs. His lips are warm, unhurried, trailing higher, then pausing just at the edge of me.

“You okay?” he asks, glancing up and I can’t help but smile. He looks so beautiful and so young; his face calm and reassuring, as if nothing in the world could rattle him. I don’t know how he does it, but with him, I always seem to end up being all right.

He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t push. Just starts to touch me with the same care and intent as before, maybe even more so. His mouth is slow and deliberate as his tongue traces soft circles, pressure building gradually, like he’s learning me by feel. I lean back and close my eyes, forcing myself to stop thinking. He’s just there, and I’m letting him in, completely. The orgasm comes slowly, not sharp or explosive, but deep and steady. My whole body pulses around it, thighs trembling, breath catching as I let go in full.

When I open my eyes again, he’s gazing up at me, and he crawls up beside me, wrapping his body around mine without a word. I rest my head against his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart. In that moment, I don’t feel like a mother, or a grown-up, or someone trying to make sense of this inexplicable place I’ve found myself in. I just focus on the now and the feeling of being... wanted. And right now, that’s exactly what I need.