Life On the Mesa

Mistress and slave have been enjoying our kids free time out here in the high desert. There has been plenty of skiing, beautiful sunsets, lots of wake up sex and evening worship, some afternoon sunning on our patio, and even a few opportunities for Mistress to receive the flirtatious attention of some locals.

Take Wednesday morning.  We were waiting in the ski valley parking lot for the "cattle car" to haul us ip the hill to the base area, when a short wiry fellow in a ski helmet walked by and said "good morning" to Mistress.

I heard the voice and spoke up.

"Is that Gary Johnson?"

He turned and confirmed that he indeed was the 3rd party Presidential candidate who had a brain cramp when asked about "Aleppo" back in the fall, a faux paux that probably helped put a certain orange hued pussy grabber in the White House. We chatted a bit with Gary - a low key guy who has climbed the Seven Summits and was an early advocate of legal pot.

"You have such white and shiny teeth", Gary told Mistress, clearly dazzled.

Then last night we went to a local "Hoedown" to benefit the Ski Patrol, those rugged guys who come to the rescue of stricken skiers or otherwise distressed damsels. While Mistress has never required "rescue" I suspect she wouldn't mind being strapped down to one of those sleds by some rugged ski patroller and hauled away to some mountain hut for a more detailed examination of her "injuries".

As we drove up to the high mesa brewery where the party was held, I asked Mistress if she wanted to enter on her own and have me watch from afar was she flirted with the assembled crowd of rugged mountain men.

"Oh slave.... that would be so slutty......"

So we entered together, and I offered to fetch us drinks ... as a good slave would do.  Mistress had on some flashy turquoise jewelry, a sexy black dress with tights, and boots. She was already turning heads as I left her to her own devices and headed to the bar.

  It took maybe 10 minutes for me to wade up to the bar and grab a beer for me and a glass of chardonnay for Mistress.  Glasses in hand, I turned back into the crowd to track down Mistress. Ultimately, I found her leaning against the sound board stand, being chatted up by --- you guessed it ---- a rugged looking bearded fellow in a ski patrol hat.  As I approached with her drink, the guy (sadly) took the message and backed away, joining some friends at a nearby table.  He was clearly disappointed, thinking Mistress was solo, and not tied down by some boring older gent.

As I stood next to Mistress, I raised an eyebrow.

"So what was that about Mistress...."

"Oh he was just making conversation slave.... said he'd never been to this event before....."

"I think he was bummed when I showed up....."

She just giggled.

"You may be right, slave....."

So dear readers, what's the proper cuckold protocol in that situation..... Should I not have interfered? Or would it have been rude to withhold Mistress's drink and leave her to her conversation with Mr. Ski Patrol?