LA, The Holidays & New Stuff
Los Angeles, this week
There's a wildness and hotness about LA. It's like one of Chandler's novels. Maybe it's something to do with those hot winds that blow through every year. Fortunate boys and dirty girls and the sessions in which I get to let loose are all reasons I like LA. If you'd like to read my kinky thoughts through my newsletter, here's one of them. Subscribe through this or my site.
"There was a desert wind blowing that night. It was one of those hot dry Santa Anas that come down through the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.” -- Red Wind, Raymond Chandler
Wrapped in black nylons
Wrapped in black nylon, where sophistication meets allure. Pantyhose, stockings, nylons... they do such wonderful things, don't they? They wrap us like a soft, silky hug, and they retain, perhaps even create certain scents that linger in our mind and reach deep in our psyche.
My nylon feet slip beautifully into high heels and those leather stilettos will impart such lovely smells onto my toes. My high arches smell like a musky wonderland when pressed up against faces. What is it about the smell fetish that's so powerful? I've read somewhere that the human sense of smell and taste are our oldest senses. Atavistic memories lay deep in our genetic history, and our bodies know, even if we don't.
Then, there are my legs. They command attention, admiration and devotion. Ever wonder why I have so many pairs of hosiery? Ever wonder why there's an endless array of seamed pantyhose, patterned nylons, sheer and fully fashioned stockings that adorn my legs? I have admirers. Would you like to be a nylon devotee? Here's how: Throne.com/MzKim
Under the shade of a lemonade stand
Under the shade of a lemonade stand, in the bright white hot of day, I pull up my cotton dress to feel a tiny warm sliver of breeze tickling my thighs. I can feel you looking at me. I look up and into your eyes.
"Kneel."
Legs. And whatnot.
My body is agile. My mind is able. I move through this world perched up on sharp stilettos, ready to pounce.
Gasp. When your legs look so good
When your legs look so good, you don't remember if you're wearing nylons.
