When Donna meets Laura at a friend's art exhibition, the attraction between the two women is immediate. Both know exactly what -- or rather, who -- they want. But there's much more to Laura than her sexy leather outfit. She introduces Donna to a world full of intriguing, hot fetishes ... starting with Donna's shoes.
“I said I’d love to photograph you.”
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t be any good as a subject.”
“Believe me, you would. You have the height, your body is in proportion, and your legs look amazing in those shoes. In fact, I’d love to photograph the backs of your calves and shoes. They’d make a great image for the cover of a book.”
I blushed, remembering how much my old girlfriend loved my feet and shoes, and now having her say it, too, well it was almost as though fate had made me wear them.
“That’s so nice of you,’ I said, grabbing a glass of champagne as a waiter wandered past. “So, how did you and Wanda meet?”
“We dated for a while when she was in Uni,” she said simply.
Good, she was a lesbian.
Now, could I get her interested in me? I had to let her know I was single.
“So, you seeing anyone now?” I asked.
“No ... you?” She focused on my mouth while asking as though willing the answer to be no, too, which, of course, it was.
“Do you want to go to the mezzanine floor and talk, it’s not quite as noisy?” she asked.
The mezzanine floor was Wanda’s bedroom. It looked down on the lounge room. Laura seemed to know her way around. I wondered if Wanda and Laura perhaps still had a thing going with each other.
I was almost positive Wanda had a sugar daddy. I thought she’d turned and was at least bisexual, but now I wasn’t so sure.
“Yeah, why not.”
I studied the way her hips moved again as she climbed the small circular stairs. Her rounded butt was only inches away from my eyes. I could have reached out and ran my hand lovingly over a cheek, but I resisted, hoping later an opportunity would arise.
We made our way over near the window and began to chat. She remained very close to me and it wasn’t long before I noticed her hand running up the inside of my leg and into the top of my stocking where she pinched the warm flesh.
She was bold, that was for certain.
“Do you want me to stop?” she whispered.
“No.”
