The unmistakable staccato click of high heels punctuating the conversational din first caught his attention. He was a regular here, often interrupting his commute from office to apartment by ducking into his favorite watering hole for a quick drink or the diversion of pleasant conversation. His visits had become even more frequent after the failure of his air conditioner. In his opinion, it was impossible to survive the late day heat of a summer in L.A. without it. So he waited here, until cool darkness crept in on velvet wings and lowered the temperature of his living quarters from Hellish to merely annoying. He considered himself good looking and, judging by the attention frequented upon him by the women at the bar, he was right. Usually he ignored the advances thrown his way but he felt on edge tonight. The sound of the heels pushed him into full arousal. He needed sex tonight. He wanted it now.
He nursed his drink while his eyes scanned the dimness of the bar for the source of the clicking sounds. He located her standing by a corner table in conversation with two women seated there. With her back to him it was impossible to make out many details. She was taller than average, her height accentuated by the four-inch, glossy black stiletto heels she wore. Her legs reminded him of a gazelle, long and lean with the calves forming tight muscular balls under the heelsβ influence.
His gaze tracked up the length of her legs to where her thighs disappeared under the hem of her little black dress. It lingered on the tight, black cloth molded over the muscular roundness of her ass. Her hair, brown with blonde highlights, cascaded downward, contrasting sharply with the silky scarf draped around her throat and the tan of her exposed back. He wanted her. He felt his balls tighten with anticipation.
She stiffened, feeling his eyes upon her. Pivoting smoothly she turned and faced him as she sought the source of the unseen, sexual energy. The inaudible click of her gaze meeting his stopped all noise except the hammering pulse of his heart. With a quick flick of his wrist, he downed his drink then jerked his head in the direction of the door leading out to the sultry Los Angeles evening. Her return nod was almost imperceptible. The front of his pants bulged noticeably as he opened the door into the dusky light.
Exiting the bar, he turned towards his office building one block away. Urged on by the fire in his loins, he walked hurriedly through the gathering darkness. Behind him he could hear the clack of impatient heels matching his pace. He reached the front door of the office building. He grabbed his wallet and removed the key pass that allowed him after-hours entry. The heels approached as he ran the card through the reader and opened the door.