Ruby Red Slippers

Speaking of Angels. Or Fates .. or any other spiritual females that come in forms of three, a chance encounter in the falls was interesting at least and rather intriguing at best.

A little red haired slave came to the boulder I perched upon and asked me if I was ok. It struck me very odd and I asked her why she came to inquire such from me. She said I didn't look like I was from here. Righteous little beast, I have not had such an extreme compliment in a long time. Even if I am reasonably sure she did not mean it to be such a compliment, I took it and made it mine.

We spoke a bit. Aside from the obvious misunderstanding that she preferred women in a not unappealing yet completely useless-to-me sexual preference ... the conversation went rather well.

During it however I was a little taken off balance by a fascinating free women pointing to me while she spoke to another free woman. It was not a passive sort of point. Like, check that out. No, it was one of those directive sort of gestures that left me waiting to see what command would be followed. I waited without climax.

It was obvious to me though that the little red haired slave, who now perched on the rock next to me so I did not have to keep leaning forward to look down, did know the gesturing woman and was either in love with her or deathly afraid of her. It really could be interpreted either way. Emotions work like that I have found. Sometimes I wonder why I want to have them at all for it seems that normal people are just as screwed up with theirs as I am with my inappropriate ones. Which is merely an introspective side note and nothing more.

Unfortunately my attention wavered and when it returned the pleasing bit of flesh had been turned into a pair of red platform shoes. So if the little red haired slave was the ruby slippers, which of the others was ToTo? And which one was the Wicked Witch? And if that were not strange enough the second free woman was screaming at me to unhand them. I hope her family gets her some medication for that. She is strikingly beautiful as well and it would be a shame to waste such.

So I am left with an odd tri-twisted encounter. And for me to call something odd is indeed noticeable. On one hand I am finding little emotion about whether or not I see any of them again. Part of me not willing to be recognized and needing to remain anonymous, and yet another part of me feels this ... dare I say, urge? To experience the oddity again. But is that not what Angels and Fates do? Entice? Spell? Enthrall? Make absolutely miserable by orchestrating events beyond our control? I should have kicked my heels together before she got away with them, but then, I am a masochist.