Immaculate

Magazines and Eye Tests

No, this story isn't quite done yet, I haven't rambled enough yet. :D I want to get them at least settled before I start on my other idea for a story. I'm not clever enough to write two stories at once, I just couldn't keep it all straight. I envy the talented ladies on here who have several stories going at once.

Ok, I have no idea what happens in American eye tests. They've just changed over here recently. Whereas before you got to wear awesome goggle type glasses that made you feel like Anakin Skywalker in a Pod Race, now, alas these glasses have been replaced with a machine that you look through that has all the lenses inside that rotate. I was gutted on my last visit. :(

Anyway, I digress, point being, I'm going to have to use the British way of eye testing, as I really don't have time to research it.

Part 119

Sang's POV

I was sitting in a small waiting room with Mr Blackbourne. I had washed up and changed back into a dark green wool pencil skirt, a red sweater and my long knee high boots. I was going to have my eyes tested next and I was a little nervous. They had told me exactly what would happen, and I knew that Mr Blackbourne was going to stay in the room with me. He was going to get his eyes tested first and I was going to watch, and then we'd swap. I knew it was stupid to get nervous over a silly test, but it was the fact it was someone I didn't know. I knew Dr Green couldn't do it, but I still wished it was him or Dr Roberts that could do it for me.

I was flicking through a glossy magazine while Mr Blackbourne was on his iphone. He was surfing the net I think, but the magazine on the table had caught my eye. It was a woman's magazine and it seemed like the first six or so pages were adverts for lipsticks, perfumes, hair dye and other things I had no name for.

I stopped at a page and blinked. The title was quite obvious How to blow like a Pro. Tips for giving a good blow job.

I could feel myself going red, but I was curious and this wasn't Google, so it should be ok to read it. I knew that it was something I wanted to be able to do if it brought them pleasure and the thought of it turned me on too. I started to read the article, bringing the magazine up slightly and slinking slightly lower in my seat so that Mr Blackbourne couldn't actually see what I was reading. By the third paragraph down I was redder than a tomato, totally engrossed and a little confused. It seemed like such a lot to keep in mind, deep throating (which sounded like I could possible asphyxiate), but remembering to pay attention to the ball area, the perineum, using your hands in a twisting motion, tighten the grip on the bottom and tongue on the top, but then tea bagging as well... which I really wasn't quite sure what it was. Then it said some men like to keep eye contact (how was that physically possible?) and others didn't, humming, no teeth. But then some did like a gentle scraping of teeth. How on earth was I going to get this all together and make it good, when it sounded like far too much to remember?

And why on earth was it called a blow job when it didn't look like there was any blowing to be done? I looked sideways at Mr Blackbourne, wondering if I could ask him, or whether this was a question I could text Dr Green with, when no one could actually see my face while I was texting.

I saw him turn his eyes to look at me, and an eyebrow was raised slightly and then he was frowning.

"Are you feeling ok? You look a bit heated," he said and of course, that just made the whole blushing thing worse. The eyebrow went up again and I closed the magazine hurriedly and straightened up.

"I'm fine, thank you," I told him and debated back and forth, but I really didn't think this was the time or the place. I was a little shocked that it had even been in the magazine as it was.