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We had been invited to see Doc's band play last night. We don't go out all that much anymore, but we always enjoy going to see Doc play. I debated all day about what to wear. I really wanted to wear my white jean mini skirt(totally rocks wth the boots), but I didn't think I would get that past Musicman. Plus, there's a foot of snow on the ground and temp's below freezing, kinda makes a mini skirt a bit impractical. Of course, 4" stiletto heels aren't very practical either in that kind of weather, but sometimes it's just too much fun being impractical.
Instead, I chose some jean leggings and a cap sleeve, tunic style sweater. I hurried home after work to get ready. My thought was, if he saw me all dressed and ready to go, I might get away with it. He liked it and I did get to wear them. Walking through the snow in them was a bit of a challenge, but Musicman helped me with that. Once we got inside, they were very easy to walk, or should I say strut in. With boots like those you can't help but strut.
Musicman is a very possesive man, and he see's me as his most valuable possesion. I've know this from the very beginning, though it did take a few years to accept. Over the years friends have tried to talk him into letting me wear certain things(a black bathing suit I owned when we met, comes to mind), but no luck.
He never cared who said what, including me, I was his and he doesn't share. That's what he always says anyway. That hasn't changed, but something has. I think what has changed is the fact that I now acknowledge and even revel in the fact that I am his possesion. If he had said no, that I couldn't wear the boots, I would have taken them off. I have another pair that have a sensible heel and stop below the knee that would have worked with my outfit too.
I'm so happy he didn't say no, the boots were a big hit and the topic of many a conversation throughout the night. Yes, I'm a bit of an attention whore, I admit that. One thing I noticed last night, and the last time we went out to see Doc play, is that we must exude some kind of under current. An undercurrent of our dynamic apparently. Ya see, I'm used to getting stared at, and receiving compliments from other men. Musicman doesn't like that at all, and I don't encourage them.
Men still stare at me, but they no longer compliment me. They compliment him, about me. It's a little weird to be sitting right there and have other men tell Musicman how hot I am, or that they want to do his wife. The shit eating grin that Musicman gets on his face when they say those things is pretty hilarious too.
