Freakazoids

Most of the time, I'm good with trying to love you out of the box, as I wrote about the other day…

But right now, right in this exact moment?

I cannot get that image of you in that outfit… for hours… out of my head. And I'm thinking…

Wanna do that again? Do whatever inscrutable and beautiful but probably damaging thing you did to your hair again, put on that makeup, squeeze that bodacious booty back into those tights, and meet me in the bar at that fancy-pants hotel by the theater?

And maybe I'll actually manage to get myself to leave the house with those 3.5" shorts on. Oh, I know you'd love it… for a laugh if nothing else, but my dear… your laugh turns me on just as much as everything else you do, so laugh it up… though I'm not too sure those shorts are cut out to hide my response.

And sure, we'd be getting looks. Oh, how people will stare! But you know what? I don't even care, I'd be with you. And besides… I've got a feeling we wouldn't be in public for very long…

Say… you weren't ever planning on wearing that leotard again, were you? Those tights don't have sentimental value, do they?

No?

Good.

Hope you brought a change of clothes, or we'll be getting even funnier looks at breakfast…

…or could I just have my breakfast in the room, too?