Tess, a partner-in-crime over at Sex Kitten, recently wrote a sweet little piece describing her predictable day and not-so-predictable evening while wearing the above stockings, which she purchased from Secrets in Lace. The moral of her story? Boys like girls in pretty things, namely sexy lingerie and, more specifically, sexy nylons.

I have a very clear and fond memory of the circumstances surrounding my very first pair of stockings. I’d just turned fifteen and my father had given me his credit card with permission to specifically purchase a pair of pantyhose and a few other girlie things. I didn’t want pantyhose. I wanted nylons and a garter belt. And I was bound and determined to have my way.

Never underestimate a teenage girl’s inginuity, particularly when she has her babysitting money stashed away for a rainy day…or lingerie.

When I returned from the mall, I hastily scooted past my father, who was working a crossword puzzle at the kitchen table, and up to my bedroom, before he could ask to see what was in my packages. Once I’d hidden the Victoria’s Secret swag, I returned with his credit card and a receipt which clearly listed pantyhose as one of my purchases. He was happy and I was happy.

The first time I wore those stockings was for an interview for a summer job. I’d bought a new dress and my first pair of really high heels that day at the mall, too, so I was feeling pretty grown-up when I went out the front door and hurried to the bus stop, resume in hand.

Now I’d already pretty much figured out how to get and keep a boy’s attention by then. (When you’re Catholic, such talents are part of your DNA.) In fact, I thought I was pretty good at this boy-girl thing. But until that day, I had no idea that –just by slipping into a sexy pair of nylons– I could increase my sex appeal (translation: power) ten fold.

Teenagers, grandfathers, adolescents, middle-aged men–it didn’t matter–were ogling me, opening doors, smiling, melting, practically drooling. Perhaps some heavenly alignment had brought all the stocking fetishists out to play on that particular day. Or could it be that I looked so damn hot I was actually creating them in my wake? Nah! I really think each and every man has at least a little bit of a stocking fetish. Pretty legs are…well…they’re pretty!

At one point a man stopped me. “Miss,” he said, “I hope you don’t take offense, but I just want to tell you that you have beautiful gams.” Of course, being fifteen, I’d never heard the word “gams” before. And while I might have been a vixen in training, I was (and still am) a polite young lady. So I smiled brightly and said, “Thank you very much,” and continued down the street.

Later I asked an adult and found out that gams referred to legs…a word The Chairman of the Board might have used to describe Shirley MacClaine’s lanky appendages. So my own little mini lingerie fetish was born. Because if it was good enough for Shirley and the Rat Pack, it was good enough for me.

Besides, stockings are so damn sexy, aren’t they?

No, not that kind, you little bondage freak!

As in…learning the ropes.

As in…always being a day late and and a dollar short, because I am a creature of habit (which you can attribute to my flickering bouts of co-dependency) and put off learning new things, particulary techno-crap.

As in…the fact that I cling to tradition (it’s a Catholic thing). So I don’t know html (I’d rather pay someone), I fumble with Internet etiquette (yes, there is such a thing) and I’m probably the last person in the history of the Net to finally get her own blog. If you build it they will cum? er, come?

As in…I am –much more, than less– the type who always goes by the seat-of-her-panties (it’s the poet in me), just doing my thing without too much thought to convention or cabals (as you should know by now, I have an aversion to boxes and rules).

But, in between blogging here and blogging there and taking calls and doing interviews and writing essays and all the other stuff that deleriously clutters my days, I’m trying to understand how this World Wide Web works. In particular these days, I am focusing on this blogging thing.

I was told my someone who I think is pretty internet saavy that “google likes text” and “verbage is everything.” Therefore, if I want to get noticed, I should use a lot of keywords and such, so that the Internet Gods pick up on it and somehow through their mystic and all-knowing powers (something to do with magic spells known as algorithms), lead the web-surfing minions to my little blog. Evidently, the The Gods keep tabs on all of this in a little black book. Their highly-secretive scribblings are knows as page rank.

And then there are the High Priests of Internet blogging, Technorati. These guys seem to really know their stuff and act as a liaison–connecting everything and everybody together, be it Google, blogger or surfer. They are have created a few magic spells of their own, including tags and pings. And, unlike the Internet Gods, they generously share their wizardly creations with all of us.

At least that’s what I’m getting out of it so far. As you might imagine, I can get flustered with all of this.

I get rope burns.

A good friend of mine read these to me over the phone and I couldn’t quit giggling. I begged him to send them to me via email, so I could share them with my readers (all three of you).

A married man was having an affair with his secretary. One day they went to her place and made love all afternoon. Exhausted, they fell asleep and woke up at 8 PM. The man hurriedly dressed and told his lover to take his shoes outside and rub them in the grass and dirt. After she’d done so, he put them on and drove home. “Where have you been?” his wife demanded. “I can’t lie to you,” he replied, “I’m having an affair with my secretary. We had sex all afternoon.” His wife looked down at his shoes and said, “You lying bastard! You’ve been playing golf.”

Affair #2

A middle-aged couple had two beautiful daughters but always talked about having a son. They decided to try one last time for the son they always wanted. The wife got pregnant and delivered a healthy baby girl. The joyful father rushed to the nursery to see his son. He was horrified to find the ugliest child he had ever seen. He said to his wife, “There’s no way I can be the father of this baby. Look at the two beautiful daughters I fathered!” Have you been fooling around behind my back?” The wife smiled sweetly and replied, “Not this time.”

Affair #3

A mortician was working late one night. Examining the body of Mr. Schwartz, which was about to be cremated, he made a startling discovery. Schwartz had the largest private part he had ever seen. “I’m sorry, Mr. Schwartz,” the mortician commented, “I can’t allow you to be cremated with such an impressive private part. It must be saved for posterity.” So he removed it, stuffed it into his briefcase and took it home. “I have something to show you that you are not going to believe, he said to his wife, opening his briefcase. “My God” his wife exclaimed, “Schwartz is dead?”

Affair #4

A woman was in bed with her lover when she heard her husband opening the front door. “Hurry,” she said, “stand in the corner.” She rubbed baby oil all over him and then dusted him with talcum powder. “Don’t move until I tell you,” she said, “pretend you’re a statue.” “What’s this?” the husband inquired as he entered the room. “Oh, it’s a statue,” she replied, “the Smiths bought one and I liked it. So I got us one, too.” No more was said, not even when they went to bed. Around 2 AM the husband got up, went to the kitchen and returned with a sandwich and a beer. “Here,” he said to the statue, “have this. I stood like that for two days at the Smith’s and nobody offered me a damn thing.

Affair #5

A man walked into a cafe, went to the bar and ordered a beer. “Certainly, sir, that will be one cent,” the bartender said. “One cent?” the man exclaimed. He glanced at the menu and asked, “How much for a nice, juicy steak and a bottle of wine?” To which the bartender replied, “A nickle.” The man looked at the bartender. “A nickle? That’s crazy. Where’s the guy who owns this place?” The bartender said, “Upstairs, sir, with my wife.” The man asked, “What’s he doing upstairs with your wife?” The bartender smiled and answered, “The same thing I’m doing to his business down here.”

Affair #6

Jake was dying. His wife sat at the bedside. He looked up and said weakly, “I have something I must confess.” His wife patted his cheek. “There’s no need to do that,” she said. “No,” he insisted, “I want to die in peace. I slept with your sister, your best friend, and even your mother!” His wife smiled. “I know you did, honey. Now just rest and let the poison work.”

Drum roll please….

A while back, 2/24/06 to be exact, I told you that I was pulling together another weblog that would be a collection of my short erotica and poetry. A few people have been watching me put it all together and have been extremely generous with their comments and support along the way, for which I am deeply grateful.

So, while I still will be tweaking and rounding out the rough edges, Blistered Lips is kinda-sorta ready for public consumption. It is work-safe (something Zen Fetish isn’t) as it is just a collection of words strewn together, and you don’t have to worry about Marian the Librarian peeking over your shoulder to find a picture of a dildo or other such x-rated material parked on your desktop. But it might give you a boner, so be careful. If such metaphysical happenings should occur, please be kind and leave a nice comment.

FYI: Blistered Lips is hosted at Vixen Blogs, where Mistress V is hooking-up both the prolific and the slow-witted with FREE blogs. So if you’ve been looking for a place to set up “blog-keeping” hurry on over there and get yours while you can. If you are new to blogging, it is a great way to get your feet wet. It’s where I started…and look at me now! Plus V is a darling when it comes to helping you out when you get stuck or confused (not that that ever happened to me, of course). And if you’re a boy, no need to fret. Vixen blogs are gender-blind. Boys, girls, and everything inbetween: We’re all vixens at Vixen Blogs!

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Also of note, you can find a few new things from me at Sex-Kitten:

• Burke Heffner: It’s a Vision Thing is an interview I conducted with Burke Heffner of Things To Look At. He is a man of many talents and has a knack for creating noir images of beautiful women. He also knows some very cool people and was very generous and open with me. Make sure to check out his site and read the interview. He deserves your attention. ***Oh, and pretty soon I will be following up this interview with a certain model. When I publish that interview, BIG NEWS will be revealed concerning Mr. Heffner…so stay tuned.***
• Art Appreciation 101: Welcome to the Big Wide World Little Girl is an essay I wrote about how a wonderful professor quite literally changed the course of my life. What I didn’t write in the article is that I developed a major crush on him and still send him a Christmas card every year.
• Doc Johnson’s G Spot Tickler is a tongue-in-cheek sex-toy review I wrote with the help of my friend, Nanette. Who, as you know, likes these sort of things much more than I do.

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Okey Dokey…gonna work the phones and do some writing. Be good until we meet again. And if you can’t be good? Well, you know where to find me.