Posted by: littlegirlyone | August 9, 2007

all the pieces of me

for my latest assignment i was asked to take a survey of random people to determine my most attractive physical attribute. of course, the idea of that rattled me completely. in hindsight, i realized i’d set myself up for the assignment, i’d practically asked for it with my cheeky response to a question about what was most attractive about me: i don’t know, i said. i haven’t taken a poll. totally asked for it.

it took a couple of days for the idea to sink in, and every time i thought about asking that kind of question, i would turn my head in embarrassment and flush pink.

i had to get 20 responses to make a “poll.” that had been negotiated up from 3 (my first suggestion), then 5, 10, 11, and then without thinking, i’d agreed to 20. that number intimidated me.

the first two i picked were sitting in front of a bar at a small table; just 2 guys having beer. when i’d been on my cellphone out front, i’d noticed them, and also noticed them noticing me. i went back out front several times, stared at them a little, ran back into the bar and stewed on the idea. i hated how nervous i was, and at the same time, i felt so jittery with nervous energy that i was hyper aware of everything around me. finally, and with a deep breath, i went back out.

“i’m sorry to interrupt,” i started, “but i was wondering if i could ask you a rather embarrassing question?” i turned my head to the right, blushing.

“go ahead,” one of them grinned.

“i- um, well, i noticed you watching me before, when i was out here on the phone, and i was wondering what physical feature it was about me that caught your attention?”

they were happy to answer my question. “your eyes,” one said. “definitely your eyes.” his friend agreed.

“thank you,” i blushed again. “thank you very much.” and i ran back inside.

my next victims came a bit later: a table of four boys that had been chatting with me on and off since i’d sat down. i had inadvertently made myself a topic of their conversation by working my way in and out of my seat, and squeezing between my table and theirs with my trips outside to size up my first two prospects. because our tables were close together, my butt kept sliding across their table’s edge, and at least once i’d bumped one of their arms on my way out. i thought i heard a bit of commentary before, and when it happened again, i swiftly apologized, and opened the door for conversation. when i felt good and ready, and was just about to leave, i worked up my courage to ask them: what was the first physical feature you noticed about me?

three went for eyes, and the one whose arm i’d brushed looked me right in the eye and said “your ass.”

i felt like i might sink into the floor. i think he felt bad for embarrassing me because he explained, “well, i couldn’t help it, it was pressing into my arm.”

i quickly apologized. he said, “no, don’t apologize. i could’ve moved my arm, you know.” and he smiled at me in a way that answered any other question i might have had. i said my goodnights, and left for a bar about a block away. i hoped that its more raucous environment would help me feel more outgoing.

i had my third drink there, and so a few of the people i asked next were a blur. i remember i actually got an old receipt out of my wallet to keep a tally because my head was getting fuzzy to the point where the count would be hard to remember. also, as it got later and people got looser, the answers began to stray. i remember the only 3 girls i asked. there were three of them, all very nice and outgoing. i told them i had been challenged to take a poll of 20 people, and asked them my question. one complimented my hair, another my eyes, another my face. before i could thank them and head in the other direction, one of them had tapped a boy on the shoulder.

“answer her question,” she grinned. “she’s trying to take a poll . . . “

the guy looked me up and down as i asked him. he answered that i had a lovely smile (which he was getting a lot of since i was grinning in my humiliation). then, he asked me why i was taking such a poll. i answered somewhat vaguely, something about a friend whose opinion of my most attractive physical feature differed from my own, and a lame line about how the poll was supposed to decide it. i could tell by the way he was looking at me that he knew there was more to the story.

“there’s something else you’re not telling me. why would you agree to take this poll? just for fun?”

i shook my head.

“well?” he asked. i squeezed my eyes shut and felt him step closer. i took a deep breath.

“do you know what it means to be a submissive?” i asked him. he grinned and nodded.

“so this is something a dominant asked you to do for him?”

i looked him in the eye. “yes.”

“wow.” he looked impressed.

“please excuse me,” i said, “i need to ask a bunch more people if i’m going to make my tally.” and i walked around the corner to the other side of the bar.

the next two i remember asking were a couple of older gentlemen sitting across from me. i felt they’d be easy enough. once again, i apologized for interrupting their conversation, and proceeded to my question. the first gentleman went with eyes. i thanked him for his response. the second, without hesitation said, “your tits.” i blinked a couple of times, smiled and thanked him for his response. as i walked away, the first gentleman called out, asking me if i was going to let his friend get away with that. i walked back to him.

“would you care to change your answer? do you feel you were dishonest?”

“no,” he said, “it’s just that -” i waited.

“are you sure you don’t want to change your answer?”

“no.”

“alright, then. thank you both again for your time.” the man looked to be in complete disbelief that his companion had been able to compliment me on my tits without me throwing my drink in his face. it sort of made me smile, and i felt like i wouldn’t be forgotten by either of them anytime soon.

the highlight of the evening came as i was preparing to leave. i still had 5 to poll, but it was getting late and i was getting tired. i thought i might be able to ask a few on my way to the train. outside, i ran into a young man who’s obviously become quite taken with me after i’d asked him my question. i’d noticed him following me around, and we’d chatted a few times inside the bar. outside, he struck up conversation with me again, and i indulged him for a moment. as we were talking, a friend of his stumbled up to him. the friend looked like he’d had much too much to drink, could barely stand still, and was slurring. i thought i’d found an easy opinion, so i asked him if i could ask him a question and if he would answer honestly. the sober friend kindly got his attention for me and told him to answer my question. as it turned out, the drunk young man had a hard time understanding what i was asking him for, so i decided to give him multiple choice. this was one possibility i had discussed earlier.

“can i give you multiple choice options and make it easier?” i inquired.

“oh, yeah. that’d be good.” he slurred.

“this is A,” i pointed to my freshly painted toes, red and shiny against the black leather sandal straps. “this is B,” i turned half around, pointing to my booty. “this is C,” i continued to turn, highlighting my chest. as i turned around, i noticed i’d gained another audience member in a homeless guy in a wheelchair who’d been passing by. “this is D,” i continued, pointing to my smile. “and this,” i pointed at my eyes, “is E.” by the time i’d finished he looked puzzled. he thought for a long moment, and all of a sudden the homeless guy weighed in.

“go with B, man” he encouraged.

“i know, i know, but i’m into C,” the drunk boy debated.

“yeah, but B, man, i mean, B . . . “

“can i see B again?” the drunk boy asked. i complied, turning in my place so that he could see the curve of my backside. “now, C again,” he asked. i turned again.

the homeless guy and the drunk guy went back and forth, finally agreeing to disagree. i put the homeless guy down for B, the drunk guy for C, and said goodnight to the three of them. i was incredibly aroused by the debate, the objectification, my compliance, my humiliation. all of it washed over me, carrying me on a happy buzz toward the train. a couple blocks away from the bar, i heard footsteps, and a guy calling out “wait!’

i turned. it was the friend of the drunk guy, the same one that had been chatting me up around the bar. he asked me to go home with him, told me i was sexy and that he wanted to talk to me some more. in the context of my relationship with mark, it might have been ok, but i hesitated.

“why not? you have someone waiting for you?” he asked.

i shook my head slowly. “i sort of do.” and at that moment, all i was thinking about was the fact that my assignment was to take the poll and go home. i hadn’t asked for, or received permission to go home with anyone, or even to kiss anyone. even as i coursed with desire to be touched and kissed and used, i slowly turned away.

i walked away, slowly.

i felt controlled and calm and wet.

*** edited to remove photos for privacy


Responses

  1. I’d vote for your eyes or your chest, but you look beautiful in all of your pics. Isn’t funny how our perceptions differ from those of others? I’ve always hated my eyes. If I had to have plastic surgery, I’d change my eyes. Yet I get more (positive) comments about my eyes than any other body part. Go figure.

  2. Shall I be a gentleman, or shall I be honest? The latter, I think. So, mouth, definitely. But the tits come close.What a fun assignment, and how well you did it.

  3. it was fun to read this. 🙂 i think i’d pick your eyes. that photo is really neat and they are really quite striking, in a way that isn’t so apparent on a webcam.

  4. thanks to each of you for participating in my survey. i have so much more to say about this experience – but it will have to wait until later this week.vacations RULE (i haven’t done anything all day but sit around 🙂

  5. i'm kind of sad i read this after the pictures were taken down ;)! you're wayyyy more obedient that i am (or think i would potentially be). i don't think i'd be able to go through with it.


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