Have a Rockin' New Year!

 Mick and molly were (almost) hoping to get snowed in for New Year’s Eve.  We’ve skied four days in a row, the legs are a little tender, and the thought of eating at home, cuddled before the fireplace, and watching “When Harry Met Sally” had a certain romantic appeal.

But the snow promised for out little valley did not materialize, and instead we carried out our plan to meet some friends at a “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve” celebration at a local hotel.

We were surprised to discover on arrival that the party was not in the historic old bar with it’s Viga beamed ceilings and adobe décor, but in the hotel’s “conference center” a sterile ballroom that dwarfed the 100 or so brave souls who made it out to “ring out” a year that some would say was a tad underwhelming. But we’ve always been able to find the fun in the odd. The music was good, the company charming, the drinks more than adequate, and Mistress and a few of the other guests had their long shapely legs encased in sexy tights…..All it took was a little imagination to get into the scene and enjoy the spectacle of a 50 something crowd boot scooting across the dance floor while the band played “Brick House”.

“This is like a wedding Mistress, and we’re the wedding crashers.”

“It reminds me of the “Poseidon Adventure”,  Mistress responded.  Well Slave never really saw that old disaster movie. All I remembered was that some big danged boat flipped over and melodrama ensues, with the ritual screaming and well earned demise of the more annoying members of the (fading) star studded cast. Seen one disaster movie, seen them all! The cause of this mayhem is faded in cinema history: was it a Tsunami? Volcanic eruption? Meteor strike? Who knows. But a little checking this morning proved once again that Mistress is always right.

 

Sure enough, there are old war horses like Shelly Winters, Ernest Borgnine and Gene Hackman all celebrating New Year’s Eve in a kitchscy New Year’s Eve ballroom, before that big danged liner does it’s flip! (BTW, is that Carol Burnet?)

Then Mayhem ensues as suddenly that big Christmas Tree is on the ceiling!

Of course, the good part about celebrating New Year's Eve on Mountain Time is that you can "celebrate" the arrival of the new year when the ball drops on Times Square. So as 10 pm approached we charged our glasses one more time, toasted the new year, and boot scooted out into the night, seeking the shelter of our warm adobe house as the snow finally began to fall.

"I hoped you didn't mind leaving early, Mistress. But we might have ended up sharing a life boat with Shelly Winters if we had waited until midnight!"

(Look here tomorrow for an update from our Western Correspondent, who is not looking forward to 2017!)

Mistress, Debbie and "Great Tits."

Mistress and Slave have been enjoying the first week of the rest of our life. We've long wanted to spend more time at our SW hideaway.  Now we can. Though slave is still getting used to the fact that he no longer  must obsessively monitor his email on work days. in case of a client "emergency". Poor Mistress is the one having to deal with work calls from the slopes.

It certainly has given us more time for naughty things. Morning cock riding and afternoon worship have been featured so far on the menu, along with skiing in between.

"The crop is coming out this weekend, slave....."

"Oops....."

But today's blog is not son much about this week, as it is a week back in the misty past of the early 1990's. It's a flashback induced by the sad and also odd coincidence that both Carrie Fisher and her mother Debbie Reynolds passing away earlier this week.  The news of "Princess Lea's" demise came as we drove across Kansas on Monday, accompanied by extensive coverage on  BBC radio and NPR. Then yesterday, the apparently linked death of Carrie's Mom from "heartbreak".

Slave cynically commented that "Debbie couldn't stand all the attention that her daughter was getting....she had to do something to upstage her....."

This observation came from my recollection of stories Mistress has told over the years about the three days Mistress spent with Debbie. This was back when we were engaged in our steamy "covert" relationship. Mistress was about 27, a young corporate executive. Slave was  40 something.  And we were both cheating on our spouses, with a secret love nest to accommodate our mutual lust. It's something you could never get away with now, in the age of I-phones, text messages, emails  and social media. Too many ways to get caught.

Debbie was coming to River City to help launch a new cable channel. Mistress was assigned to shepard her around town, and, implicitly, make sure she had a "good time" but didn't get into trouble.  It sounds easier than it turned out to be.

Oddly, slave was part of this strange sequence of events.   I was invited by Mistress to a big reception to  celebrate the cable launch, and took my father and his wife to meet the "star" who was more my parents' generation than mine. We still have a photo of Mistress, Debbie, and my Dad tucked away, all of them smiling.  For some  reason I cannot recall,  both of our spouses were not there!

(How did we get away with that shit?)

"So what was she like, Mistress?"

"A real piece of work.  She kept a Hollywood diva schedule. Sleep until noon. Then stay up "entertaining" until 4 am. "

"How do you know she was up that late?"

"Because I had to be there....she made me stay....We had booked her into this suite at [the classiest hotel in town] and she would invite people up to hang out with her.  Room service kept bringing drinks... She flirted with all the men, and was kind of nasty to me and all the women....I remember just wanting to go home to bed, but she insisted I stay.... she was dancing with the Mayor ( my old college buddy), and sharing all her Hollywood stories....."

"Did you ask her about Carrie?", who was an actress and writer with some notoriety of her own at the time.

"Sure.... I told her I liked her daughter. She said "You would like her. You're just like her. All dark and brooding. The two of you will never be happy....."

"Ouch...."

I recalled that one of the pictures we had of her and Debbie included a tall blonde  executive that Mistress had one her her rare f/f flings with.  The image shows the blonde with a bit of a leer, eyeing Mistress in a very predatory way. Their affair was fuel for our own mutual sexual stylings at the time. A precursor to cuckolding, but with nicer legs and more curves?

"Wasn't your old friend Liz there too that week, Mistress....."

"She was slave, it was when all that was going on. And another woman, Sharon .... you remember her.... who was coming onto me with these very suggestive notes....she was later linked in rumors about an affair with Martha Stewart."

Ah..... the 90's.

"Sounds like your 3 days with Debbie was a bit of a nightmare, Mistress."

"It was slave.... but she did say I had 'great tits'."

"And you still do....."

Sad Disturbance in the Kinky Force

Fiancee Gets the Dowager Domme Once Over

Mistress and slave are speeding as fast as we can across the great vast American heartland .... aka "Trump Country". We are  on our way to the sheltering arms of the Blue State where our SW hideaway is located.  With no obligation to return to an office, we have no scheduled date of return to River City.  Now that's a good feeling!

We did spend Christmas evening with family -- our daughter and her fiancee accompanied us to the Dowager Domme's home where she prepared a filling Holiday feast.  But first there was a certain hazing of the young, innocent fiancee that was required.

You see, the DD has an "interesting" collection of various artifacts collected from around the world to complement her world class collection of kinky shoes and boots. (I was unable to discretely photograph the spikey 4 inch pumps shoes she was wearing for a holiday meal at home, which surely would have impressed our readers).

One "conversation starter" was the penis gourd hanging on her wall..... a souvenir brought back from a trip to New Guinea.  Over hor' dourves, She explained to our slack jawed future son in law that the guys in the tribe she visited wore penis gourds and nothing more during their visit.

"when they danced sometimes their scrotums popped loose!", the DD's more typically submissive husband, and Mistress's stepfather interjected.

Oops.

I tried to be helpful, suggesting that he and his groomsman might want to consider penis gourds in lieu of tuxes for the wedding.

"They're actually hard to come by....it's a long trip to New Guinea.", the DD countered.

"You mean you can't find some on E - Bay? ", slave helpfully rejoined.

As the family chatted on I took my own little tour around the room, noting the very useful antique lariat on the wall.  I didn't ask the DD for the story of how this keepsake was acquired, or how she had put it to good use since then.

Hopefully the fiancee was not taken aback by this pre-dinner chit chat, or the DD's rather peculiar collection of items which could be put to use in more ways than one.

Nothing worse than a runaway groom who must be brought to heel.  Though the DD might consider than a challenge.