Truly. Deeply. Madly

Seeing as now I was massively disappointed in 2008, I've decided not to recap.

I have, however, decided to launch this calendar with a feedback meme:
If you were god-modding Cluegirl, what would you have her do this coming year?

Anything goes -- yes, even that, you pervs. Anonymous commenters are allowed for those too shy or too naughty, and you can say anything you want, good or bad. I am also not promising to DO any of it, but the suggestions might well be interesting, and you never know, something might really inspire me to action.

Anonymous commenting is now, officially allowed.
Take it away, Flist!

We'd some errands to run, you see: new masking fluid, so I can work on bethbethbeth's commission without risking its destruction, picking up the shoes I'd had re-heeled a month ago, mailing some lamentably overdue packages, returning one of my Mithrasmas gift books for the second one in the series, on account of Dominus' not having known when he bought it for me, that I had it already, things of suchlike.

These errands did lead us to the Maul though, and whilst there, and passing by A Certain Shop, (which firestarter333 will remember as the one at which I once walked face-first into a plate glass window, on account of shoe-hypnosis,) I pulled a snap decision, and a hard left, (through the door, thanks, not the window display,) just to see whether they had ... those boots.

Those boots.

There they sat, on the shelf. Smirking at me.

With the attack instinct of a blood-mad pirhana, the shopgirl snuck up behind me, and insinuated herself into my fugue of lust, asking "What size should I bring out for you?"

*They'll not have my size, surely!* I thought, as I failed my willpower check, and gave her the most common shoe size in my whole nation. *And even if they did, there's no way I could afford those wonderful things! I'll escape for certain! What could possibly go wrong?*

This was before I noticed the stunned look on Dominus' face when he turned the lure-boot upside down to check the price. I had no way of knowing! None, I swear!

Anyway. Sure enough, when the shopshark came out, she said all she had was a pair half a size too small, or a size and a half too big. I thanked her, and prepared to go, but she stopped me, and began to dissassemble the thing. Apparently, (and what an effin WONDER this is, in these days of cheapshit workmanship that falls apart in two wearings,) all those buckles? Work. And those laces? Work. So I was able to take a shoe that was the exact length, but too narrow for my foot, and expand it to a glovelike perfection.

The more fool I, I still supposed myself safe. The Dominus came behind me, and whispered the price, at which point, my heart gave a funny little skip, and I knew... I just KNEW that I would be breaking them in next week.

Oh... oh, BOOTS!
Dominus and I did a mini-shoot of bootlove with them when we got them home. The foot fetishists on my flist will like this one, methinks.
( When, exactly, did I become possessed by the ghost of Imelda Marcos? )

Just so's you're warned, we are planning more shoe-fetish sessions. I figure we ought to do them whilst I've still got my ballet arches intact, after all.
Cheers, m'loves!
Now who's got ideas for a costume I should build around them?