It's Wicked Wednesday and Lord Craven-Moore Takes the Day!

Yes, tis true, I am taking command of Wicked Wednesday. Tis also true that I have accepted this twenty-first century way of living, albeit grudgingly. I have finally, after numerous stares and pointing, relegated my fine linen shirts, cravat and buckskin breeches to the nether regions and have decided to 'break out the jeans' as my LIT ladies are so very fond of saying.


What do you think, friends? Do jeans work on me? I am not convinced. Oh, do pardon the lovely alabaster hand (who shall remain nameless) doing me up. That bloody zipper is a corrundrum for a man who has never before worn such a garment, let alone dressed himself. And the chest hair...I'm sorry if it offends in any way, but I cannot in all conscience shave it~it's taken a couple of centuries to grow, and I'm rather fond of it, I daresay.


I must say, I felt rather wicked donning these denims. I should probably feel rather wicked having a hand in my, what is the vernacular....fly? But, I confess, as a sultan of wickedness, these things pale in comparison to what I have done lately.


Shall I confess a few of my wicked deeds?


1. I drew a little goatee and devil horns on Charlotte's kidlet's life size poster of Zach Efron. (oh, such drama from a female so young! I once had a little opera dancer who couldn't hit as high a note as that squealing little nine year old did.)


2. I downloaded every Pussy Cat Dolls video onto Charlotte's new computer and cajoled her husband into watching them with me. (What? I am rather enamored of their singing. Very good voices, you know.... and the husband agreed, wholeheartedly. But do you know, we did not receive supper that night, and had to go to Taco Bell. What kind of meat do they serve there, do you think? But that is another post for another time.)


3. I maxed out Amanda's Visa at the local mall. (now her husband has to work the weekend in the ER to pay off my new clothing fetish. But I reminded him how damn good I will look in my jeans, lying on his couch, while admiring his wife while he tends to all those sickly people. I asked him to consider it an act of charity, and he made a strange motion with his hand. Darling Amanda said to ignore it, but in case it was some strange twenty-first century male bonding ritual, I returned the finger gesture. Naturally.)

4. I printed off pictures of myself in jeans with the unknown hand on Kristina's husband's printer and sent the image to his clients. (I thought I was doing a favor for the poor bloke, you know, drumming up business and all that, except how was I to know that he had already set something up and I ruined hours of work and used all his paper, and whatever else goes into running a printing company. Really...these men need to communicate things better, a sign simply stating 'don't send pictures of yourself in your new trousers' would have sufficed. Instead, I endured hours of grumbling and language that I did not know was in the English vocabulary. Fortunately Kristina, that angel, saved me by whisking me away to her study, whereby I gave her ideas for her naughty scene in the novella she is writing.)

5. I have booked an appointment for a tattoo. Just wondering now where I should place it, and what it should be. I'm thinking the LIT logo might be a nice addition to my chest. Or perhaps something to do with the Pussy Cat Dolls, I have not yet decided. What do you think?


So, what do you plan to do on this Wicked Wednesday? If you're into naughty writing, I took the liberty of posting a spicy excerpt of Charlotte's erotic historical Addicted on her newsletter site. I believe you have to sign up to her newsletter (http://www.charlottefeatherstone.net/) to read it, but my....it is rather wicked....

Happy Hump Day,

With much love and wickedness

Lord CM