Time's Up.

Mistress and her devoted Slave are here in our tiny garret this evening, packing for the trip home. Our "loving" daughter has her debris scattered everywhere, deciding what she can send back with us, and what she will keep for the 4 1/2 months left in her "studies" here on the continent.

I suspect she has now realized why it made sense for her to leave us "ugly Americans" behind. We're too loud, too bufoonish, too corny, and we have very poor table manners.  The only thing we are good for is keeping her credit cards below the Max, and bailing out these sophisticated Europeans  whenever Germany gets too big for it's Liderhosen.  (Plus, I doubt I know how to spell "liderhosen".

But I must say Molly and Mick have had an enjoyable time, with and (these last two days) without our daughter attempting to act like she doesn't know us.

Today, while the sullen teen slept in with her Danish friend after a very late evening doing "stuff" on the town (I don't think we really want to know), her bumpkin parents took a final tour around the city, enjoying the art, the food, the ambiance and some startlingly pleasant weather.

Mistress did have time to contemplate resuming her search for the perfect "part time dom".  This guy seems to fit the part, and has a very hard cock. But I doubt he could get a passport to visit River City.

We also saw a painting that reminded us of the events back in the fall at the UCTMW World HQ, on what became known as homecoming weekend (or for that matter any weekend with Suzanne over at All Mine.  You can tell who that is int he middle!

And while we didn't have time to do any lingerie shopping, we did pass by a few compelling windows.  This one with the ultimate truism.

(And when the little red confection in the window is priced at 800 Euros, Love will have to do.)

We did finally meet up with our daughter at the Apple Store, in an old building with a view of the Paris Opera. It had all the manic energy, and over taxed "genius" staff of our local Apple Store, but with a view and in a foreign language.  Give our daughter credit for finding the pale and getting her laptop computer battery replaced without helicopter parents on hand.  And then, back at our apartment, when it was time for us to start packing up, she elected to go for a walk.

Of course, she got no argument from us. By then it had been almost 24 hours since the sexual frenzy of the prior afternoon.   Within moments after the door slammed behind her, Slave was buried exactly where Slaves belong.  And what followed was some lovely afternoon delight, in the soft fading sun of a Paris winter's day.

You'll hear more from us come Sunday, when reality sets in. But we'll always have Paris!