Meanwhile.... back at the UCTMW World HQ

Mistress and Slave made it back from their Parisian adventure to visit their long lost sullen teen.  One fear I had about arranging this journey, about 4 months before her year abroad ends, was that she would have a meltdown on the last day and beg to go home with us.

As it turned out, that was not the problem. Instead, it seemed after about 4 days we had overstayed our welcome. By yesterday morning when we dropped her off at the Gare du Nord (she reminded me more than a few times that you don't pronounce either the "r" or the "d"), she seemed more than happy to have us skedaddle back to the banal world we come from, and to take our shoddy table manners and unsophisticated habits with us.

Nevertheless, Mistress and Slave did have a wonderful time, with more time to ourselves over the last two days. There was great eating, strolling, sight seeing and appreciating the more elegant and sensual lifestyle of this great city, with its soft pathways, winding alleys, and charming Bistros.

Of course, back here in River City we had some adjusting to do after the nine hour flight home. It was colder, we were back behind the wheel rather than strolling or riding the Metro, and that six hour time shift was a bit of a bear.

But fortunately we had what amounted to a whole weekend left to ourselves, in the empty nest, to adjust. 

Who can complain about that?

After the mail was opened and the cats were reassured that their human companions had returned, Mistress elected to go get some deferred maintenance done on her fingertips and feet. It was Slave's job to re-stock the larder.

But I was reminded via text, somewhere in the produce department, that on my return home there would be a cropping in my future. a list of pecadillos had been run up during that week away, where the lack of privacy had prevented swift justice. 

Ouch.

But as it turned out, by the time Mistress returned, and I had stored away the groceries, she was too tired for corporal punishment. Instead there was some plain old raucous sex in the executive suite, preceded by some much deferred worship.  It was nice to be able to go full throttle after a week, without the need to stifle or listen for the key in the lock of our little apartment in the Marais.

And while out own little "Temple of Love"  may not have high ceilings or stained glass like St. Chappel, it's great to be able to keep the door open and not worry about volume.

After a nap that seemed like it could have gone on much longer, Slave assembled our dinner: a roast chicken and sauteed spinach. And by then we were a little too tired even to turn on the TV.  Instead we retired to our cozy bed, caught up on the papers, and read until it was what passed for a suitable eastern time zone bed time.

Of course, we woke at a crazy hour this AM. Was it 2 am, or 3 here ? But 9 am Paris time? The cats missed us, apparently. One was licking my hand while the other was parked on my ass.   

It seemed there was only one prescription for nocturnal readjustment (after the cats were shown the door).

"Would Mistress like her Slave to fuck her?"

"My cock is always welcome, Slave...."

Yes, we'll always have Paris.  But wherever we have an empty nest, I'm happy to call home.