Soft yet harsh. Now grey again. Grey. Dawn. Dawn is grey... Dawn is a pale hint in the eastern sky, fortelling of a day blanketted with clouds, and ag...in devoid of the warmth of the sun. I sit waiting, as I have for the past three hours, with teeth clenched against the arctic-like winds that gnaw at my feet and hands and bite at my exposed cheeks. That I would be here at all, or atleast in this position, never entered my mind until that news flash last April... The six of us had been planning. Short tight pencil skirt. Bright red. Blood red. That temping slit you love so much right down the middle of the skirt. So if I cross my legs you can see the tops of my stockings.Tell me about those.The stockings?Yes, pet.Thigh high. Black. A seam running straight up the backs of my legs.I love that seam.It took me forever to get them lined up exactly.Just for me? Yes, dear.What else are you wearing?High heels. The fuck-me-now black ones. The ones you love.And what else?Nothing.Nothing else? No. More

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