My eyes were drawn to her the moment she walked in.
I was sitting alone in a rather upscale restaurant and had up until then had the place more or less to myself. This was fine with me, as it meant no one saw me there alone and thus would be able to think about how sad I must be to be in such a place on my own. The waiter had already given me more than one pitiful look, so the last thing I needed was any from strangers.
But when she walked in, none of that mattered anymore.
She glided through the doors and across the floor to a table not far from my own, but I swore she'd stepped out of one of those old Hollywood films. She had that sort of beauty to her, a Marilyn Monroe vibe that fit perfectly with her golden hair and lovely figure.
But it was her outfit that really got my attention.
Leather. So much leather.
A short leather skirt which showed up her incredibly toned, stocking-covered legs which dove-tailed into a pair of over-the-knee leather boots. A leather top which offered a fair view of her chest even from where I sat, with a fur coat draped across it. And along her arms, a pair of shoulder-length black leather gloves. Every piece looked to be of the highest quality, and my mouth watered at the sight.
I freely admit that I have a rather massive fetish for leather, especially gloves and boots when worn by beautiful women, and this lady more than fit the bill. Luckily for me, she did not seem to notice she was not the only diner here tonight, and so I was able to continue my meal without worry.
Even so, I caught myself glancing over at her a number of times. When she removed her fur coat and draped it over the back of her chair; when she shifted in her seat and moved her booted legs around; and when she smoothed out her gloves before perusing the menu. Every little movement sent shockwaves through my system.
Yet the more I looked at her, the more I had a nagging suspicion that I'd seen her somewhere before. At first, I dismissed such a notion, not being the kind of person who could ever dream of encountering such a lovely-looking lady as this, but something inside me said otherwise.
It took me far longer than it should have to recognize her, and once I did I was filled with a flurry of emotions. She was Miss Vera, a rather well-known fetish model whose work I had followed online for quite some time. I'd first come across her on a random fetish site, but over time found myself on her personal websites a number of times, always looking longingly at her pictures and clips.
But never buying any.
Yes, although her sites were subscription based, I could never bring myself to sign up. Something about it felt almost Faustian, like the moment I put my information there then I was trapped. To be fair, a small part of me would not have minded being trapped by such a beauty as Miss Vera, but I still remained little more than an observer.
Which is what made this feel so awkward. Here she was, someone I had watched on a screen for the longest time, and even if I had the courage to say a word to her, it would feel so disingenuous given. So instead I did what I had always done, just in another setting. I watched.
I finished up my meal not long after and watched as hers arrived. She did not remove her gloves the entire time, yet moved with such grace that I don't think as much as a crumb ever touched her leather clothing. She was truly ravishing, and as I sat there I longed to even approach her, to be in her presence for even a moment.
Oddly enough, I was not alone in my thinking.
While I was distracted by her, the waiter returned. Given I had paid my bill and tipped, I wasn't sure why he would have returned other than to get me to leave, which would have been strange given the restaurant was not busy. Instead, he handed me a small, folded piece of paper.
"From the lady" was all he said, then walked away.
Perplexed as I was, I quickly opened up the note and saw two words written in the most exquisite handwriting. "Come closer."
Without a second thought, I did just that, although I took my time on the off chance that I was misinterpreting things. Even so, Miss Vera did not look my way or stir even as I found myself standing less than a foot away from her. She simply finished up her meal without a word and then deemed with worthy enough for her to speak to.
"You've been watching me since I walked in, haven't you?"
