It was about eight and the sun was gliding behind the horizon as she slipped on her heels and admired her outline in the mirror that hung at the end of her bed. Her dress sat tightly but comfortably against her hips and clung to her thighs, her stockinged legs shone in the reflected light of the candles on her dresser. The modestly scooped neckline showed off the curve of her modestly sized breasts and did a good job of allowing one to imagine their full unclothed potential. She turned slightly and considered her taut behind, not bad for a woman no longer in the full prime of her youth but ripened to perfection. She could see the outline of her knickers and decided that just for tonight she would go without, she bent her knees slightly and pulled them down gracefully, enjoying the freedom and the slightly wicked feel that it gave her to be so exposed. She draped the slight silk lingerie on the foot of her opulent double bed.
She wasn't expecting to be picked up until nine and was surprised to hear an engine outside. It wasn't the usual car, she realised with a slight thumping of her heart, but a large and powerful sounding motorbike. That wasn't really her friend's style -- he was a man of conservative tastes, largely good hearted but also quite dull to be honest -- they were going out together mainly out of convenience. She glanced down at the window and in the half light she saw a shadow as the engine revved to a standstill and the rider dismounted, he was wearing full leathers and in this light, although she wasn't totally sure, he looked different from her intended assignation.
She hesitated, the door downstairs was unlocked and open, it had been a humid day and was threatening to be a sticky night. For a moment her hand reached for her phone, but as she heard the door click shut, presumably behind her visitor, she stopped herself. The footsteps on the stairs didn't sound quite right, heavier yet more graceful, like a dancers, than she had expected. She looked into the mirror and saw herself in the candlelight, she had just applied her lipstick and the red gloss across her lips made her look more confident than she felt right then. The door opened with barely a sound and she saw him standing there, immediately it was apparent that this was not the person she was expecting.
He was taller, slimmer, dressed head to toe in black smooth leather, black gloves and still wearing the silk balaclava that bikers wore underneath their helmets, just his eyes and mouth showing. His boots accounted for the heavier footsteps. He smelt of leather,oil and smoke, masculine smells, heat seemed to radiate from him. She could just about discern the faint scent of a cologne, a cologne that she recognised but couldn't be sure of, somewhere in the past she'd smelt it before. Despite his appearance she felt unthreatened, also aware that she was breathing heavily, her pulse quickening, her imagination running ahead of her, her breasts starting to heave and her pupils dilating.
He didn't say a word but just stood there.
"Are you my escort....?" She asked after what seemed a delicious age.
He still didn't reply. "Well, did James send you to pick me up?" She took a step closer, still no words from behind that mask. His eyes glanced to the foot of the bed where the discarded knickers hung.
She noticed. "Well," she said, "it's lucky that I'm not easily scared, perhaps you've come to take me somewhere else?" her eyes fluttered with a hint of suggestiveness and he took a step towards her.
She stepped back, suddenly alarmed that she may have misread the situation. Her hands reached behind her to steady herself against the dressing table and he continued to come towards her, still silent, still strangely alien yet somehow familiar. He reached out with his leather slicked hands and gently but forcefully lifted her up onto the dressing table -- she could hardly believe how pliable she was in his strong grip -- her lips were swollen as she felt him pull her face to his and kiss it , his tongue slipping between her lips and filling her mouth, oh god she was hungry, hungry for something like this, she didn't want to know who was behind the mask anymore, she just wanted to taste his lips, her hand reached behind his head and pulled him closer, the silk mask adding to his allure.
She parted her legs to allow him between them, the dress riding up her thighs as far as it could go and showing an inch of white thigh above the dark stocking tops. She would have let him do absolutely anything to her and in a whirling fantasy she imagined his cock as a throbbing pulsating machine, driven by his robot-like outfit, hardened and heated by the ride on his huge powerful motorbike. She wanted him to take her and drive into her with piston like efficiency, fill her with mechanical precision.
She felt the warmth of the leather and as his eyes appeared to seek her consent his gloved hand slipped down to her exposed pussy. Rubbing her gently at first he sought out the tip of her clit and she bucked slightly as he made contact and pulled it gently between two fingers. She gasped as she felt the sensation flood through her, making her wetter, making her flow. She pushed one knee up between his legs and sought out the base of his cock beneath the leather with her thigh, rhythmically moving it back and forth, her hand at his waist. His fingers dipped inside her and she trembled as he slid first one then two then three inside her cunt, dripping now with the ecstasy of this almost unbelievable event. She wanted so much to see that black leather disappear inside her and pushed him slightly away, lifted up her dress and looked to see the moist folds of her vulva being massaged by this mystery visitor, she let her own hand drop down and feel him, slick and covered in juices as he went deeper and deeper, she began to rub herself and then, with her own hand glistening in her juices she reached for the bulge in his tight leather trousers and caressed it, leaving a shining trail across the leather.