We are going to parties this weekend. Not play parties–cocktail and formal parties. This is exciting. We have never done this. We rarely go out when we are together, and when we do, it’s with a small group of (often kinky) friends. So it’s exciting to venture out into Society (*snorfle snarfle*) with Robbie.

We both like social niceties, especially when we can fuck with them. Robbie in particular likes the idea of mixing elegant manners and perversion–very Story of O, him. For my part, I am an inveterate exhibitionist and can say or do some rather irreverent things, especially when I am mixed with alcohol. I expect it will be some weekend.

One of the best things about the weekend from my point of view is that we will have to dress up. Robbie lives in the country and spends most of his time in (sexy) jeans–and although he likes me in skirts, I persist while down on the farm in wearing really unattractive knit cotton pajama-like things from the Gap, which I can work in.

But today I bought the most gorgeous skirt ever. It’s so long I look 20 feet tall, and it’s so stunning I barely need to wear anything with it.

As it happens, I will be wearing some things with it: heels, underthings, a white t-shirt, and either a necklace or my collar, which I left at Robbie’s house when I left there, the last time, after the fight-to-end-all-fights, which was followed by reconciliation. We are nothing if not predictable.

And he will be wearing a suit. I have never seen him in a suit. When he walked into the place we were staying for our dirty weekend wearing a dress shirt (kind of), I almost fell over, I was so amazed at how he looked. So I am very much looking forward to seeing him in a suit.

And to seeing him again.

Images by Rebecca Beard and erocrush, via a flower a day.