I perch on the stool, my legs held tightly together so nothing is visible despite my mini skirt. My feet in high heels are hooked on the wrungs of the stool, twisting on the rod in a unsteady rhythm. The high walls of book shelves tower over me, rising to the vaulted ceilings of the ancient bookstore. My back is to the entrance of the hallway. The wide expanse of the room is vast behind me, leaving a sense of vulnerability and luxuriousness. He told me to come here. I knew exactly where he meant; he didn't need to go into details. He told me to not turn around, to sit facing the window, watching the traffic, far below if I wished. To read a book if I wished. But not to turn around.
I check my wrist watch... it's five minutes after he told me to arrive. I don't know how long he'd want me to wait, or how long he plans to be occupied with the business of the bookstore. I shiver, the vastness of the room settling on my skin. Tracing the leather spine of the book, I turn it to the page that I had left on the bus. Required reading for my classes. I glance towards the city scape revealed by the broad window, the city changing gears in sunset for the evening mask from the business, tidy front it had portrayed during the Tuesday hours.
I imagine in his hands settling on my hips, drifting up the lines of my corset to the well-shaped breasts under the boning. How he'd gently push away my hair to reveal the delicate neck, strapless and fragile for him. How he'd gently bite my neck, pulling me into him, into his chest and belly with his hands...
I hear a click behind me. The door. I twitch, wanting to turn to him, to run to him, to leap into his arms. I stop myself, letting one of my heeled feet hang off into oblivion. I lower my head, a sign of resignation to his wishes. My hands close the book on my lap, folding neatly over the cover. I listen to the sounds he's making; the moving of chains from behind the heavy, velvet curtained windows, the scraping of a chair. I fasten my eyes on the spire of a distant sky scraper.
The feel the soft steps approaching me, his soft tanned leather boots padding against the walnut floor. I feel his presence behind me, close... I feel the cold dead feeling of his breath on my shoulders. I shiver, holding myself still in submission to his wishes.
Then his arms reach around me, rubbing against my hips, his cold cold hands settling on the inside of my thighs. Gentle pressure pushes my legs apart, revealing my secrets to the twilight city below us. He gently takes my ear lobe into his mouth, his warm tongue lapping the tender fleshes. Small nibbles along the edges help me to relax into his grip, soft puddy in his firm and capable hands.
His warm hands trace up my inner thighs, toying with the soft stray hairs from my cunt. I shiver, twisting gently on the stool, deeper into his grip. His fingers play with me, on either side of my outer lips, messaging the hair and pressing into my mound... the slick inner folds rubbing against each other. I ache for him to slip his fingers into me, teasing me in and out until I beg as his palm rubs against my clitoris. He lets go of my ear lobe, roughly pulling me into his chest, pressing the zipper of his jacket into my back.
“You're going to slip off this stool, and slip off this rediculous skirt. I'd like you to keep the corset on. Stand against the wall, pressing your breasts and bush against the glass for the entire city to view. You may pull out the hand grips if you'd like, and take off your heels, but don't turn around.” then his hands leave me, the cool air replacing where the soft leather had been against my skin.
I slip off the stool, kicking off the heels and slipping my mini skirt down to my feet, and step out. I look at my toes on the wood floor, the cardigan design tracing up my legs to my upper thighs. I slip my thumbs under the cuff of the right sock, slipping it down my thigh to my knee, pushing it down to my ankle and off my toes, feeling the cold air kiss my skin as it's revealed. I wiggle them against the hard wood. Stepping towards the wide plane of glass, I reach my thinly boned hand behind the thick,plush curtains and grab the wooden dowels that swings down at shoulder level for me to hold onto. I step up to the window, pressing my belly and breasts up against the wide planes of glass. Leaning my cheek against cool glass, I sigh as I relax into the stance. I close my eyes, relishing the cool cool firmness against my aroused skin.