It is amusing how twisted my sense of normalcy is. The other day at the dungeon, I was chatting with Mistress Alicia in the reception area when a food delivery arrived. She rushed to hide as I opened the door. Bewildered, I said, "It's ok, it is just the delivery guy, not your client." She cocked her head to the side and gestured at herself. It took me a moment to realize that she was in full fetish regalia: skin tight latex pants, barely there halter and thigh high boots. Of course she was correct, the delivery guy did not need to see her attire. But we both laughed out loud that momentarily I just didn't understand. She looked perfectly normal (and scrumptiously hot) to me.
I had another "wearing fetish gear is perfectly normal" moment over at Rubbercat. I was wearing a short blue latex dress, a black brocade corset and six-inch heels. A guy that I had found adorably attractive when he entered, stopped to chat a moment with me on his way out. I invited him out for a drink and we talked while he waited for me to be "off-duty." Once I had finished, I told him to wait just another minute so that I could change. Afterward I wondered if he had met me in jeans, a black t-shirt, my leather jacket and flip-flops if our initial chemistry would have been the same. It just never occurred to me while I was, that I was hitting on someone with my cleavage and the the length of my legs on full display. He was intelligent, amusing (and as previously mentioned, quite adorable). Too bad he doesn't live in this country.