In a flurry of excitement caused by the promise of lunch, one had just finished selecting the perfect shoes to go with the little black dress, spritzing on perfume, putting on a rather nice black bra trimmed with red ribbon in readiness for donning on the dress, when He walks into the midst of all this girly fluttering and announces his toenails need cutting... One stood there for a minute and wondered how much one actually wanted the good slave award as opposed to how much gratification would be achieved by bludgeoning Him with a shoe.
For the record waiting until a girl has almost finished primping is not the best time for a request for a pedicure. Black dress + perfume = sexy. Pedicure does not. In fact pedicure equals the death of sexy.
Of course one would love to say that one complied graciously with dignity and regal calm. It would be a lie. So we left home, one of us in a black dress and one of us with a pedicure, and only one of us happy. Sighs and although He wasn’t bludgeoned one of us is not getting the good slave award after all...
For the record waiting until a girl has almost finished primping is not the best time for a request for a pedicure. Black dress + perfume = sexy. Pedicure does not. In fact pedicure equals the death of sexy.
Of course one would love to say that one complied graciously with dignity and regal calm. It would be a lie. So we left home, one of us in a black dress and one of us with a pedicure, and only one of us happy. Sighs and although He wasn’t bludgeoned one of us is not getting the good slave award after all...
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