Sharp

Sunday night was freezing cold, a ridiculous night for the grand hurrah of winter partying, but so it was. Sydney-cold, knife-sharp, cold enough to curse myself for wearing thigh-high stockings and a very short dress, but not cold enough to go home to change. I buttoned my coat all the way to my knees, wrapped the scarf tight around my throat, and set off on my merry way.

The first party was the play-type, featuring a startling number of people in flannelette. I had some lovely experiences with sharp pointy things and blunt force things, and all sorts of shiny things. I was happy and (purring?) afterwards, and so ready to just snuggle down and hang around, but- no, I had other appointments to keep, so I wrapped my coat and scarf around me, and headed back out in the cold.

A short detour by home, and I was bound for the second party, a bar a few floors up a corner building on Oxford St, nearly filled with dancing dykes (always a pleasant sight). Miss Y and I had a really lovely dance down the front, forcing our own little bubble of femme into the wall of leather-clad short-haired eye candy. I even managed a dance with the person I was supposed to meet there (and oh, bois who can dance! Be still my tapping feet!) before Miss Y and I scampered off down the hill to Kooky.

The third party was my queer homeland, complete with a huddle of familiarity on the stairs and a knot of dancing girls down the side. More dancing, and getting a little physical with that cute girl. Then it was time for one last impromptu strip show* and home.

*Stripping in the open doorway of Kooky in the two minutes before I leave is still not up there with my naughtiest Kooky moments. The current reigning champ is that time with the girl and her shoes, and licking and fondling my way up her ankles. It wins because: I have no idea what her face looks like, as she was sprawled over a sofa and I approached from behind, plus: I didn't ask permission, and we were wearing the same dress (matching is kinky, yes?). The runner up is my birthday, when my date for the evening traded me with another girl in exchange for a pair of pants.