Gobsmacked

Gobsmacked  

     Jill says, “I love this coffee shop. The espresso brings out my daring side. But it is all in my imagination.”          
     Jim replies, “Have you finished your paper for that ethnography class? From what you told me it sounds not just scholarly but also fun. The courtship rituals of Papua New Guinea sound like a riot.”          
     Jill says, “Well, incest isn’t permitted so the women invite men from other tribes. An old man helps the women choose their partners.”          
     Jim replies, “How do the women know their suitor isn’t a psycho and vice versa?”          
     “That is where the old man comes into the picture. And he has had plenty of experience sifting through the applicants.”          
     Jim replies, “We could use such a mentor here in the states. On a slightly different tack, what are you dressing as for the Halloween party?”        
     Jill says, “Well, thigh-high black nylon stockings with a garter belt for a dark dominatrix look.”       
     “I can safely presume that your domme attire reflects some facet of your personality?”          
     “Though an eager novitiate so far books have replaced experience to teach me the ropes pardon the pun.”          
     Jim replies, “But if the opportunity arose?”       
     Jill says, “Is that an invitation? Sorry for getting your hopes up but these proclivities get too dark for real-life application.”          
     “Would you like another cappuccino?”      
     Jill answers, “You look positively gobsmacked. Don’t worry all sorts of inhibitions are cast aside at Halloween parties.”        
     “What kind of inhibitions do you let play?”      
     “The type that bipolar vixens need lithium to control.”         
     “Do you have manic episodes?”         
     ”Only when the moon is full.”        
     “What do you do when this spirit moves you?”       
     “I eschew convention.”        
     “In what manner?”        
     “I pick up the tab for our dinner at our favorite and most exorbitant restaurant.”       
     “Do I get baked Alaska for dessert?”       
     “No, don’t stuff yourself. The dessert comes later at home.”  
     Jim replies, “You are so funny. Costume balls allow one to assume a persona antithetical to our real self. Does subtlety appeal to you more or frank honesty?”  
     Jill says, “You have supplicated the subtlety Goddess sufficiently. Kneel at my feet like you are proposing to me so that the public won’t think we are engaging in any fetish ritual. It would be a nice touch for you to kiss my shoes.”  
     “What if the patrons get the wrong idea?”  
     “They may get the right idea. Your obeisance in deference to my puissance needs a public display. The subsequent events in our marriage will occur in my apartment where the harvest moon will be roofed out of sight yet still an influence on how I wear my haute couture.”