For The Inquisition I Wore...

Big black feathered eyelashes with blue and silver glitter cat-eyes. Red lipstick. New quiff-esque haircut. Gas mask. Gaffa crosses on nipples. Cincher cinched tight. Big blue velvet skirt. Black army boots. Packing big and hard over crotchless fishnet tights.

My look was delighfully androgynous somehow, and attracted a whole new variety of admirers. I danced, snogged occassionally, cuddled, chatted, frottaged, considered my options, and at one point may have sat on a Bear's head (not quite like that, and its all a bit blurry, perhaps he was just under my skirt). But it seems My Significant Monster (aka The Westie) has spoiled me for mere mortals, and whilst it was a dizzying festival of mutual admiration and flirtation with a vast array of the prettily perverse, I really wasn't very interested in much more action than a quick grope in the queue for the loo or a promise of boot polish. But it was very, very nice to know it was there for the taking if I changed my mind.