Mistress Chokes.

It was another heavenly day of ample sunshine, warm temperatures and uncrowded slopes here in the high desert. And it's even better on a Sunday when Mistress and slave don't have to slavishly monitor their I-phones while riding the ski lift ,to create the impression that they remain attentive and engaged in that alternative work universe.

And of course before we hit the slopes there was sex. Slave even unwound the extension cord and plugged in Mistress's favorite power tool to give her a nice shuddering cum before taking advantage of her weakened state of consciousness.

But back to the slopes. The blue skis. the well groomed cruiser runs that make you feel like Spider Sabbitch or Suzie Chapstick. All the stars are aligned for an epic day.

And then, Mistress's big opportunity came. As we crested a rise at the top of the mountain and prepared to slide off the chairlift, there HE was -- casually strolling in his red and white ski patrol jacket, walking two cute mountain rescue dogs.  It was Mistress's fantasy Mountain Man, the guy who holds the USA record for "bagging" Everest. He works here in winters between guiding treks to Denali, Kilimanjaro, the Antarctic, and Nepal. Mistress and MM  are "intimate" facebook friends, and on our last trip here he even gave Mistress a little hug and kiss on the cheek when she chatted him up after his world spanning slide show and lecture.

Was this karma. A chance to follow up, maybe finagle an apres ski beverage?

This is how things unfolded:

Slave: "Is that him, Mistress...."

Mistress: "Uh....ummm.... I think.... uh, yeah.... that's him...."

(Chair hits apex where it's time to unload.... Mistress and slave slide onto the snow, dodging one cute dog).

Slave whispers an aside: "Say hello, Mistress..."

Mistress:  "Wow.... I....not sure..... ...."

(Uncertain, Mistress slides past MM, gaining speed on her skis as the window of opportunity slams shut.)

Slave:  "Hey [first name of MM].... nice dogs...."

MM: "Yeah.... great aren't they....."

(Of course, MM doesn't know who the fuck slave is....he's only talked to Molly in the past)

When I caught up with Mistress I politely asked why she didn't say anything to her fantasy MM.

"I didn't want to be a stalker slave...."

"But you weren't stalking, Mistress ... he was right there... in front of you.... you had to turn to avoid running right into him...."

By now Mistress was recovering from the jittery knees and flush that no doubt started somewhere betwixt her clean shaven folds. She was apparently too embarrassed to hike a little ways back up the hill. And MM was now bringing the cute dogs into the ski patrol HQ adjacent to the lift. Heading back to say "hi " would clearly have been stalker-esque at that point.

Poor Mistress.

Another missed opportunity!