Sunday, July 18, 2010

A Big Night Out... or Communication Sucks, part two

I guess I should write this all down while it is fresh in my head.

All week, it seemed like all I could to do was think about our trip and getting ready.

Wednesday, Master told me to go ahead and get a pedi with my Manicure so I took off the whole afternoon from work, I wandered around the mall waiting for the polish to harden. After I got home I tried on some different clothing and finally ended up with a black leather mini, textured black thigh highs, a skin tight black bustier that makes my cleavage very eye catching. I left the outfit on so Master could see and decide. The skirt was whore short… I was legs from ankles to armpits, but they looked good and judging from Master’s reaction, some very sweet and enthusiastic spanks and official approval, I realized I had my outfit chosen. Though I was rapidly having second thoughts about how I was going get from our hotel to the burlesque show dressed like one of the actors, but no guts no glory and if Master liked the way I looked, that was the important part.

Thursday at work went by fast, and I have to admit all my focus was on tomorrow. After work, I swung by the bank and then I got right onto getting the laundry all caught up and house cleaned and ready to go. The weather men had said that the weather was going to be absolutely perfect, high clouds in the morning and mid seventies in the afternoon. I decided to wear a skirt and packed some shorts for the ride home.

Friday, we had a nice quiet, lazy morning, I got packed and got the car all ready to go and dressed in a pretty skirt. The only thing Master did was say he wanted me to wear some different shoes… ones that have “bare feet” (read toes showing) so I changed into a pair of sandals. They aren’t quite as comfortable as the little flats I had chosen for walking around, but they are okay. I can wear them all day at work without problems. I figured they would work fine.

We got out the door at precisely 9:00 am but of course, we ended up turning around and going back because Master had one of those… “Fuck, I have to go shit again,” moments. I kept a very straight face, did not even roll my eyes. I was sooooo good. We got to the hotel with only one missed exit.

It is funny, how giving up on being right can take over your mind. I had told Master that check in was 4:00 but he contradicted me… saying I had said 12:00. You know, I just blinked and edited my memory. “Okay, twelve.” Well of course it was 4:00 but the people at the hotel were nice and let us leave our car there and we spent four hours walking around downtown Seattle.

I learned that Master has the worst sense of direction. Every time we would come out of door way, he would head off in the wrong direction and he would NOT listen to me, so we would end up with him staring at a map for about ten minutes with me vibrating because I knew where we were and he would not believe me. I was standing there with this wide anticipatory grin on my face waiting for him to admit I was right, again, when this one lady looked at us and asked if she could help us. I just laughed and said “Oh, no, thank you.”

It was a hell of a lot colder than those weather men said it would be but if we kept moving I was just barely warm enough. Pikes Place Public Market was a cluster fuck… there were so many people there it was almost impossible to move so we only wiggled through there about one time.

Then for some reason Master decided to take off on some huge cross country hike. I guess there was a time a lot of decades ago when he had found himself down and out in Seattle and was trying to find some of the places he had been. I allowed him to push me along, looking in windows and at the thousands and thousands of people. I would stop and ooooh and ahhhh over shoes or dresses or drag him into an art gallery here or there but then he would get back on track and push me along.

He would do this thing… tell me that this trip was for me and we could go where I wanted or look at what I wanted to… but, you know, every time I tried to turn or steer he wouldn’t go. He would stop and tell me “there isn’t anything up that way” and drag me off the other direction. I stopped trying pretty fast. One of my sandal straps started to rub a place on the top of my foot raw and I kept trying to walk different so it didn’t hurt. He growled at me about limping, but he finally turned us around and we walked back. We got to the hotel exactly at 4:00 and we laid down for about an hour. It felt so good just to lie down and be quiet.

So there we were, lying around in the hotel room and he arbitrarily decided that we had to "HURRY." I threw on my outfit, suffering another small spasm of “oh god, what was I thinking” but I did not have time to get too scared. He started to hustle me right along. He told me we could not eat at the restaurant I had chosen and hurried me to some fast food Mexican place. I could not figure out what the fuck he was doing but by that time I was all "yes, Sir."

Important piece of information… I think I told him that the show started at 7:30 but because we had "will call" tickets I wanted to be there a little after 7:00 ...about a HUNDRED times...

So anyway back to the story, there I was marching around crowded downtown Seattle in a micro mini leather skirt and cleavage during busy rush hour. I could not help but reach around and check that my ass wasn’t hanging out about every ten steps. I kept feeling this breeze ya’know. (And yes, there were panties… nice black ruffled panties. Master is not that kinky.) We ended up walking about a mile and got there an hour early. He looked at me with a "what the fuck" look and I repeated for the 101rst time... "Well, it doesn't start till 7:30. I TOLD YOU THAT ABOUT A HUNDRED TIMES."

He said, "You said 7:00.”

"I said I wanted to be there a little after seven to get our tickets.” By now I was not keeping the condescension out of my voice. Why the fuck doesn’t he get it???

So he had heard 7:00. Because the last word in my little speeches had always ended with was 7:00, that was the only word that he listened to or remembered and after he heard 7:00, he decided to be there by 6:30. So that is why we could not have a nice dinner and why he made me walk there so fast. So there we were at 6:00 …standing on the street in front of a still closed theatre. Me all dressed up in my whore clothes in a kinda run down neighborhood.

He was totally ranting at me about how why couldn't you just say 7:30 instead of going on and on and on… and I retorted that he never gets what I matter what I say and my natural nervous response to this fact is to say it more and more complexly, to over explain, to make sure to include every fucking nuance of my decision making process and all the potential variables… and now that this had happened that things were only going to just get fucking worse and worse. What used to take four paragraphs will probable now take twelve. By the time I was done we were both laughing.

We ended up at a bar, him drinking coffee (according to him, some of the worst coffee he had ever tasted… and we were in Seattle for god’s sake) and me sucking down shots of kahlua. Nobody was really mad and we certainly weren't late. The whole time we sat in the bar, Master kept chuckling. I am sure he thinks I am fucking crazy but, ya’know, I am just as convinced that he realizes there is nothing he can do about it.

The show was AWESOME!!!! We sat right in the front row. The dancing, music and singers were great, lots of pretty semi-nude bodies (g-strings and pasties). The show was about this kind’a sleazy, down and out burlesque show that was out of money and had to do something to sell more tickets or lose the theatre and how they did not want to sell out to the more mainstream kinds of things. It was really funny and a little touching. The main star was a big fat, very sexy woman with big voice and lots of other big things and the suit guy that was trying to get them to be more marketable wanted to get rid of her because she was fat but they refused. Now when Master and I see a large woman who is obviously proud and beautiful, we smile and say to each other... "Keep On Humping the Dream." That was the finale.

Both of us were exhausted by the time we got back to the hotel… sorry no sex stories to tell on this trip. In fact Master hardly ever has sex with me when we aren’t home. Sad, huh…

Yesterday, as soon as we got home we took a three hour nap. We are old… too much excitement and we are down and out on the couch, Master said he wanted dinner at 6:30 so at six I got up and started cooking and he came in and asked me, "Are you making dinner?"... I started to babble... started to say all this stuff... "you said... it is... I was starting...”

He grabbed me by the throat and said, "Yes or no?"

I gulped and laughed and said, “…but I haven’t gotten the whole twelve paragraphs yet.” The fingers around my neck tightened and I squeaked out, “Yes?" But when he let me go and I started jumping around and singing, "I am just so full of words!!!!" He cracked up.

Speaking of words this has gotten book length and I have a whole weekend’s worth of chores to get caught up on.

P.S. Sorry about no pictures. I totally forgot my camera.

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