A gorgeous chair. All gleaming and evocative and red leather covered and wicked looking; an object of desire, more than just a piece of furniture. I shouldn’t have bought it. Simon will go nuts when he arrives and finds I’ve had it delivered. This glorious old town house we’ve bought was just a smidgen beyond our budget, even allowing for us doing it up ourselves, and on top of that we’re saving for our wedding. There just isn’t really any money to splurge on luscious Victorian antiques, no matter how divine and desirable they are. Yet when I saw the chair, I saw Simon in it, and that’s why I went back and bought it. I could just imagine him lounging against the leather, enthroned like a sex god and ready to dispense retribution, just like one of those vintage disciplinary gentlemen in the Blue Book. Ah, the dear old Blue Book. Suddenly, I’m awash with memories, and I’m back there, on holiday at that cottage by the lake, opening those pages, poring over the old Victorian spanking photographs they contained…and seeing the light.
What do You think about Ritual Of The Red Chair (2012)?
