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."