Ericas Boots

The boots were her most frivolous purchase ever. For $400 they had only decorated the inside of her closet, reminding her of her woefully single state every time she opened the doors. They stood proudly in the corner, glossy and haughty, telling her she'd never be that girl, not the girl with enough balls to slip those boots onto her feet, zip them snugly around her calves and knees and thighs, and strut out the door on those 4" heels. She was, instead, the girl who dreamed of being a braver girl, a sexier girl. A wanton woman who would look for sex -- and find it -- in those boots.

It was Saturday night and she was drinking wine alone in her bedroom. She was by no means proud of this fact. She'd had a mostly productive day, but it was night now, and warm, and she ached for some immediate companionship. She'd given herself a break from dating -- too many polite but sparkless dinners with benign accountants. And she knew why. The boots said it all; on the inside, behind closed doors, she was wild and lusty, but on the outside, she presented like a librarian, and not an edgy, sexy librarian, either. More like a boring, cat-loving librarian, And although she was, in fact, a middle school guidance counselor with a healthy sexual appetite, she knew that most men found her a bit unsexy.

By her third glass in twenty minutes she could feel a pleasant buzz suffusing her. She was loose and it had been far too long since she had had the right kind of man between her legs -- or any man, for that matter. She stripped her clothes off and tossed them in the hamper, enjoying the feeling of her tits swinging free, of the air caressing her body. God, she needed to be properly fucked. Her heart beat a bit faster as she considered which of her three vibrators would be her lucky fellow tonight.

And then, opening her closet door to toss her clothes into her hamper, she spied the boots and paused.

No. Tonight she needed a sound fucking with a real cock, preferably but not necessarily attached to a decent man. Her nipples puckered and she toyed with them, slipping into a reverie where she walked down to Ammermon's, found the first available man, and asked him to fuck her senseless. She giggled a bit hysterically. It was ridiculous, really. She could no sooner walk up to some strange guy and...

But the boots.

She could let the boots do the talking.

It was 9:30 and she knew Dawntee was probably still home. Her neighbor across the hall was a night owl, a drag queen, and a brilliant makeup artist. Although they'd only exchanged hellos in the hallway for the year that they'd been neighbors, Dawntee was friendly and very likely would be happy to help. Grabbing the boots, Erica flung on a robe and went across the hall.

She could smell Dawntee's perfume wafting from the apartment before she even heard the sultry, "Who is it?" She had to repeat herself twice before Dawntee opened the door, a puzzled expression on her face, pulling her own kimono tightly around her lithe frame.

"Well, if it isn't my neighbor," she purred.

"Hello there, sweetheart. Come to borrow a cup of sugar?"

Erica blushed and held up her boots. "Sort of."

Dawntee ushered her into the opulent apartment, beckoning for her to sit on one of the velvet couches. "Those are some boots," she prompted, looking Erica up and down, "and I'm going to forgive the fact that you haven't come to Dawntee's Inferno on the sole merit of you owning such a fierce pair of boots."

"I'm sorry I haven't been to your show..." she started weakly, but Dawntee silenced her.

"I understand. Not your cup of tea. So tell me what I can do for you and these boots tonight?"

Erica took a deep breath. "I need a man."

Dawntee's eyes widened. "Honey, don't we all. Just for tonight?"

Erica nodded.

"Well then, " Dawntee said with a smile, "Those boots are a wonderful choice, in that case."

"But all I have is the boots."

Her neighbor studied her for a moment and then rose, pulling Erica up by the hand. "Come with me."

And just like that, she was in a bedroom straight out of Barbie's dream house, staring at a wall of rolling racks stuffed with gorgeous garments. There was satin and sparkle and chiffon and sequins aplenty, every color of the rainbow, a confection of beautiful clothes designed to knock a man dead.

"Welcome to my dressing room," Dawntee said with a proud sweep of her hand. "You've come to the right place." She dug through one rack, then another, then tugged out a scrap of bunched magenta material no bigger than a bathing suit and held it up triumphantly. "I can't believe it was so easy to find. You can't consider anything else, not with that ass of yours."

"What is..." Erica's mind reeled. Surely that was an accessory, not a garment.

"I want you to try this on and then take a look at yourself."

"But I'm not wearing anything under this robe, " she protested, blushing slightly.

Dawntee grinned. "Can't wear anything under that dress, either. Trust me. Now put it on."

Erica wriggled into the Lycra dress, pulling the straps up over her tits and tugging the hem down over her hips. It barely cleared her ass cheeks. And already, she could see the change in her appearance. The color was perfect on her, flattering her dark hair and golden complexion. The Lycra sucked everything in and somehow seemed to lift her ass, because it suddenly looked round and juicy. She preened in the mirror a minute and then Dawntee patted the chair of her dressing table.

"Come on then, let's finish up."

With various styling tools and gorgeous palettes of makeup, Dawntee worked for what seemed like mere minutes before she pointed Erika to the full-length mirror. "Go see," she prompted, and Erica slowly rose and walked to the mirror.

Staring back at her with shiny, tossable hair, smoky eyes, and a sultry pout was a girl who looked like she was built for nothing but sex. Erica preened and pranced in the mirror, taking herself in from all angles. She admired her pert tits and the swell of her ass, the contours of her thighs and the way her pubic mound thrust up from the vee between them. She posed in the mirror and tossed her hair over her shoulder and was amazed at herself. At Dawntee's version of her.

"How did you do this?" she gasped.

"Honey, I've been doing nothing but this in my bedroom since I was a little boy. I'll show you some of my tricks another time. Right now you better get those boots on -- you've only got a few hours till last call, and you need to get yourself out where some men are."

"Ammermon's?"

Dawntee gave her a withering glance. "Honey, no, not Ammermon's. Not unless you want some broke-ass factory worker to buy you a can of Budweiser and drill you for four minutes in the back of his Taurus before he goes home to his wife and screaming brats. You need to go somewhere you can find a man with money to spend who can show you a good time." She smiled slyly. "If you're really in need, then you need to come with me to Pogo, because I know people and can make a few introductions."

Erica must have looked worried, because Dawntee looked at her and pealed with laughter. "Oh, honey, not pimp you out! No, darling, something a bit more subtle. Just an introduction. Like this. 'Mr. Big, this is...'" She looked expectantly at Erica.

"Erica," she said, a little hurt that Dawntee didn't know her name.

Dawntee rolled her eyes, not unkindly. "Sweetie, it's a nightclub. You're there for casual sex. You don't need to give your real name. Make one up. And no offense, but think of something sexy."

"Ok, I'll be...ummm..."

"Lola," Said Dawntee firmly. "Tonight your name is Lola."

Erica laughed. "But that's ridiculous! I can't even say that with a straight face. No one is really named Lola."

"Look at yourself for a minute," Dawntee insisted softly. Erica looked at her own suddenly luscious curves and made up face. And then she looked at the boots. "'Mr. Big,'" prompted Dawntee, "'This is my friend...'"

"Lola," Erica breathed, feeling her heart beginning to pound.

*****

The club was like an aquarium of beautiful people, all perfectly dressed to display their best assets. Erica had felt like a swan at home, but by the time she'd squeezed through some of the throngs of people, her confidence was a bit faded. Compared to many of these women, she was a desperate attempt, a little girl playing dress-up. But she was determined to make the most of her night. Just having the boots on in public was a start, she told herself. It was farther than she'd gotten before. Who knew what the night would hold for her?

Dawntee knew everyone there, and she introduced Erica to several people. There was an older businessman named Dan (she bet that was his real name) who instantly took to her, grasping her hand in his in a way that was familiar and thrilling but maybe still not what she needed. Dawntee nudged her in Dan's direction and she danced with him a bit, enjoying the buzz of the drink and the heat of his body pressed against hers. He was so tall he nearly dwarfed her, in his late forties with thinning hair but, as far as she could tell, a substantial cock in his pants. She wondered how he would feel, what he would want her to do, if he would make her do things she had never done before. Her pulse raced as she considered telling him no and having him grab her and take her anyway, a man used to having his way, who wasn't used to women saying no, who took what he wanted. Her pussy was suddenly moist as she realized it wasn't just about a man, it was about a game, too, a power struggle. That's what she needed tonight.

But then Dan went to talk to some friends and Dawntee introduced her to Xavier. He was a bartender, her age, an almost cruel beauty. He devoured her with his eyes, and it was easy to imagine what he would feel like pounding her into the mattress. He had a luscious, biteable mouth and the whitest teeth she'd ever seen, a contrast to his dark skin. His ambiguous ethnicity made him ever more exotic and sexy; he was velvet-eyed and muscle-bound with a beautifully cultivated scruff that she imagined him brushing against the insides of her thighs. He moved like an animal on the prowl.

"Will it be Dan? Or that one?" Dawntee said at her ear.

Erica didn't answer. That one, her mind screamed, but she just stared at him, and after a few moments of conversation, Dawntee excused herself and Erica was left with this virile god, her entire body humming in anticipation.

"I live upstairs," he said, taking her hand. She nodded mutely and went with him, his hand wrapping around her wrist as he led her toward the emergency exit. She watched him moving through the crowd, all sinew and sex, and her groin cramped in anticipation. Her pussy was so wet she could feel the moisture as she walked.

When they got to the door, he held her head and kissed her without saying a word, his tongue sliding between her lips, tasting her mouth like he was enjoying a delicious feast. She moaned against him and he grabbed her by her ass and ground his cock against her barely-concealed mound. His fingers dug into her ample ass cheeks as he pressed her into him, warm and willing and needy. He chuckled in his throat and slid one hand into the top of her dress. He pinched her nipple and she gasped and responded by kissing him back with complete abandon, her fingers reaching between them to grasp his erection through his jeans. It was massive and she kneaded it with her whole hand, aching for him to take her upstairs and put it in her but unwilling to break the delicious contact. And then he unlocked the door to the stairwell and led her through it, locking it behind them.

*****

Xavier had seen her right away. She stuck out in the predatory savannah of the club, a frightened gazelle despite her bullshit attempt at dressing the part. The dress, which he admired because it hugged her like body paint, clearly made her uncomfortable to wear, and those boots -- Christ, those boots were wearing her, they were a different woman's boots, and yet the thought of her naked, the juxtaposition of those innocent eyes peeking up at him while he held her leather-clad ankles... His cock stirred in his jeans at the pleasurable thought of fucking her wearing only those slutty boots. Fucking her and using her and making her both satisfied and sorry that she'd come into his club wearing such a ridiculous costume when she could barely deliver what it promised.

Her eyes darted around the club as she stood very still next to Dawntee, and he took in every inch of her. Dark eyes, large and liquid. Too much eye makeup, but it gave her a slutty extra something, and it would smudge off on his sheets, which always thrilled him. A sweet pout of a mouth that he imagined enveloping his cock. Shiny long hair, also dark, enough to pull on as he fucked her. Perky breasts, a nice C cup by his judgment, and a very curvy ass rounding out the bottom of that dress. Nice thick thighs barely visible between the end of that short dress and the top of those thigh-high boots. She looked soft and sturdy and slightly vulnerable, and his cock grew harder still at the thought of corrupting this good girl, giving her what she clearly needed but had never had, making her lose control.

He watched her talking to Dan, dancing with him. His boss, the owner of this club, was a powerful man and could throw a good fuck into a woman but enjoyed the thrill of letting someone else do the scouting. It was a game they played; Dan accepted that Xavier (who was the manager of the club and not, as many thought, just a bartender) was the better-looking man and often used him as bait, particularly with the younger women. Sometimes it worked out and sometimes it didn't; if a girl was unwilling then Dan was happy enough to watch Xavier fuck her instead while he enjoyed the show from a distance, stroking his own sizeable cock while the woman of the evening lost herself in the act of getting expertly serviced by the young god. But other times, the best times, they shared a woman who was truly in need, a hungry girl, one who knew what a rare opportunity it was to be fucked by two virile men who understood that there was a real woman involved and pushed the limits just enough, just enough to blow her mind and spend her body without crossing that line.

Xavier calculated that she might be one such woman. He watched Dan pull her closer, press her to him, cup those delicious buttocks with one large hand. He saw her toss her hair, lean in close, take a big gulp of her drink and smile as Dan spoke right in her ear, his mouth against her earlobe. She squirmed a bit, not with nervousness, he guessed, but with heat. With unfulfilled desire. And as he made eye contact with Dan from across the dance floor, he nodded, and Dan grinned at him, a wolfish grin, and turned back to his sweet prize.

*****

In the stairwell, Xavier stopped her and slid his hand up between her thighs. Erica moaned softly as his fingers were greeted by the unprotected slickness of her cunt.

"Oh, I am going to fuck that wet pussy," he murmured, his eyes dark with lust, his fingers sliding idly back and forth, gliding over her clit and dipping back to her blazing crevice, all the while trailing his mouth down the side of her neck, hitting all of her secret spots, making her moan and arch into his lips. She was melting under his touch, she had never been touched like this, she wanted him to push her down on the dirty stairs and yank that dress up and fuck her there, with the cold metal stairs pressing into her ass, pressing into her back. She ached for him to fill her up, to stretch her out, to make her beg, to give her everything but still make her crazed for more.

"You like that, Lola? You want me in this juicy wet pussy of yours?" She nodded and whimpered as his thumb hovered over her clit, then grazed it purposefully.

"My cock's going to be up in this hot cunt, isn't it, Lola?"

She gasped and gripped his wrist, holding him there, nodding and whimpering until he covered her mouth with his and devoured her moans with his lips and tongue. When he pulled back, he removed his fingers from her dripping snatch and held them to her face where she obediently, without him even saying a word, sucked them into her mouth, looking him in the eye as he pushed them against her tongue. She savored the taste of her own need, the musky smell of herself on his entire hand as he fed her arousal to her.

"You dirty slut," he growled, seemingly pleased, his own breath coming shallower now, his cock straining against the front of his jeans. Without even thinking twice about it, she dropped to her knees and pressed her face against his tented crotch, rubbed her cheek and her mouth across the tension of his pants. "Oh, Lola, I am going to fuck your face," he murmured, pressing her into him. She didn't care. She hoped he would fuck her face; she hoped he would unzip and stuff his big cock into her mouth and choke her with it. She imagined being gagged on that cock, but craving it still, the violence of the act making her impossibly wet.

Xavier pulled her up off her knees and led her up the stairs. Her heart was pounding with her own wantonness and the anticipation of Xavier's cock and her absolute lack of concern for her safety or her dignity or anything else besides getting good and fucked. She entered the apartment behind him and he turned to her and kissed her again, softer this time but with a similar urgency. He took some time to taste her lips before nibbling down her neck and across her collarbone. Then he turned her and grazed his mouth across her exposed shoulder blade. She sighed and pressed her ass against him, reminding herself of the delicious size of him. His fingers slid inside the top of her dress again, but this time he impatiently yanked the material down and then clamped onto one of her nipples, rolling it and then pinching it between his fingers. The moan that escaped her lips was louder than she had intended it to be, but Xavier grinned and spoke softly into her ear, "Fuck, I love to hear you moan like that. You really want it, don't you, horny little slut? You need my cock." With his other hand he yanked the dress up over her hips so that she appeared to have on nothing but her boots and some bunched-up fabric around her waist.

He pushed her against the back of his couch. "Bend over," he commanded hoarsely, even as he nudged his knee between her thighs. He needn't have bothered. She was already spreading her legs wide on her own accord, thrusting her creamy round ass in the air as she draped her torso across the back of the couch.

He had barely unzipped and was smacking his cock against her ass like he was spanking a naughty child. Every time a velvet blow struck her, she arched and whimpered, "Oh, yes...yes..." She was aching for him to enter her to stop teasing her with his giant cock. She pressed herself down further on the couch, her ass even higher. She heard him tearing open a condom wrapper and she wriggled her ass in anticipation. Seconds later he had the tip of his cock inside her.

And there he stopped, maddeningly taunting her with such minimal penetration.

"Xavier...Xavier..." she tried to back into him, but he held her down firmly, rocking just slightly so to keep dipping a scant inch into her and then withdrawing until he was almost out of her. He chuckled as she struggled to swallow him into her needy depths, thrashing against his unyielding strength, her cunt growing juicier by the moment, her excitement beginning to seep down the insides of her thighs.

"Ready to beg?" he asked softly, and she responded, "Yes, yes, Xavier, I need your cock, I need it all the way inside me, please...please..."

"That's a start," he encouraged, as he reached under her and clamped his fingers around one of her hard nipples, seizing it without pressure.