"If you don't wear protection, I won't sleep with you
again! There are too many risks without you covered!"
she'd said that morning.

I'll do it, because I love her. I'll do it, because
really, it's a small price to pay to get some. But
damn if I won't feel stupid. So, out I go to buy some protection that I hope will suit her.

The store I go to has quite the selection . . . do
people really wear them in such wild colors?! I
suppose I'd like plain, but the wilder ones keep
catching my eye. Multicolored, with a propeller?
Oversized, with tassels?

I pick up several and take them to the bathroom to try
them on in secret. I'm probably not supposed to be
doing this. Standing in front of the full-length
mirror, I slip on a propellered one. It's too small.
I think I tore it. Dammit, I knew I should've
measured myself. I would've felt so self-conscious
doing it, though, and I sure as hell wasn't going to
do it in front of her.

The one with tassels is too big and the tassels are
tickling me. A quick glance at my reflection confirms
that I look as ridiculous as I feel. I try a red one,
as I think it will complement my coloring. The red
looks strange on me; in fact, it makes me look oddly .
. . cheerful. No, that won't do at all.

As I am removing the red one, the bathroom door bangs
open and a man walks in. I try to hide the stack
behind me, but the torn propellered one falls to the
floor. The man looks at it and looks up at me.

"Are you *trying those on* in here?! Freak! I'm
getting a manager." The guy slams out of the
bathroom, and I look at myself in the mirror. I
suppose I do look like a freak with that discarded
propeller thing at my feet, and the red one, which
isn't much better, half-on and half-off.

I decide I need to skedaddle before Mr. Outrage comes
back with the manager, so I grab a black one off my
stack and put it on quickly. It looks almost
dignified on me, and it fits properly. I pick it up
and scoot up to the checkout, glancing around
furtively, on the lookout for my "friend."

The clerk nods at me knowingly. "Ah, I think your
girlfriend will like this on you. I think this will
please her very much."

"I hope so," I reply, quickly handing him a fistful of
credits. I grab the bag and leave before he can make
change.

When I get to her place, she opens the door, smiling
at me. I kiss her enthusiastically.

"Well, hello to you, too," she says, amused. "Is that
what I think it is in that bag?"

"Of course it is, dearest." She grins at that and
leads me to her bedroom.

*******

Later, as we bask in the afterglow, she murmurs, "That
was wonderful."

"Yes, dearest, it was," I reply. "I thought this
would decrease sensation, but it didn't at all."

"Maul, darling, I'm so glad you bought that hat. I
didn't need any more scratches."

I grin at the black fedora on the nightstand.

=====