Saturday, 12 May 2007

Uniform Arousal

Uniforms have never really been a big turn on for me.

Obviously nurses hold a strong appeal. But I prefer the fantasy style of nurse who have to wear heels, seamed stockings and naughty mini skirts that don't quite cover the buttocks. The reality, some hard working lass wearing flat shoes, wrinkled tights and a dress that smells of antiseptic and vomit, doesn't just have quite the same effect.

Yet uniforms have a strong hold on quite a few people's erotic imaginations.

We've all heard of politicians who have "a thing" for a particular football strip. And the majority of stripper-grams will offer the services of a "naughty police woman" complete with handcuffs. But it isn't just men who have their buttons pressed by the stimulating thought of a saucy uniform. Uniforms can also hold a powerful sway for women.

In sign language last week we were talking about work and occupations. It was difficult for me. I'm a writer and student therefore I don't know what work is. But the rest of the class found this one of the simpler chores.

Did I mention that the majority of our class are female? No? I guess I'm getting absent minded in my old age. Anyway, the female class all sat to attention when one of the class's few males subjects took the chair and began to sign about his job.

He introduced himself and explained he is a fireman.

You've never heard the silence of a sign language close grow so intense. The mood was so electric that I thought one of the overhead lights would be likely to pop. Fifteen women leant forward in their seats, all of them watching avidly as our resident fireman signed his way eloquently through a description of his uniform, helmet and pole.

One lady almost fell out of her seat. Another had to be excused and rushed flustered from the room. A third simply smiled at him, tongue lolling from the corner of her mouth. Shit! He even turned me on a little bit.

A brief Q & A followed but it had fallen into the lapses of smut and filth.

"How big is your pole?"

"How many men can slide down your pole in one day?"

"Do you polish your helmet?"

Eventually, the rest of the class told me to stop asking questions.