For background on the worlds featured in the stories on this blog, check out the 'Details of the Realms of Tang' posting in the AUGUST 2007 folder.
Just to alert you that today, 12th February 2009, I have put a number of new stories, into the MAY 2008 folder. 'La Femme En Cuir' takes place in France and Britain and is about a British woman given a new much sexier life in France and how she deals with it. 'Walking Broad Street' is a story set in contemporary UK about a university student being transformed into a prostitute. Similarly 'White Boots' takes place in Belgium and the Netherlands is about a Canadian businesswoman transformed into a prostitute, Silke. 'White Boots - in Silke's Footsteps' happens in the Netherlands and Germany about another Canadian woman who knew the woman who has become Silke and in trying to find out what has happened, she is also turned into a prostitute.
Previous Updates:
* Just to alert you that today, 7th December 2008, I have put the following stories into the JULY 2008 folder. They all fall in the sub-category of Leather Stories. The first is 'Back in Black' about a mature divorcee having an exciting encounter on a day out in London. 'New Leathers, New Lovers' which is about a woman abandoned by her partner who ends up dressing very much like the woman he has left her for and in turn finds a new lover of her own. 'A New Flatmate' which is about the effect applying to share a flat has on a young woman and finally 'Emergence' which looks at the impact of another young woman starting a job with a television company and having to adjust to the dress code they favour. I have also included some illustrated leather stories. Into the OCTOBER 2007 folder I have put a selection of illustrated Nemarash short stories.
* Just to alert you to the fact that today, 23rd October 2008, I have put the following stories into particular folders. APRIL 2008 has 'All That Glitters' a story about the transformation of a woman into a living golden statue. There is also an illustrated short story version of this. in JUNE 2008 have gone four 'Office Stories' set in contemporary UK with office work as the background to the changes. In 'Recruitment' a secretary and then her friend are enslaved by a mistress and turned into latex-clad lesbian slaves. In 'Executive Toy' over a period of time a businesswoman becomes ensnared by the influential Mr. Gage and is turned into a bisexual latex wearing pet for his business contacts. In 'Take-over Bid' after her friend is transformed into a bimbo and a porn star, a young woman finds herself being taken down the same path until she is reunited with her friend on set. In 'Terms of Contract', Elizabeth finds that implanted thoughts turn her from businesswoman to a lesbian boss's sexual plaything.
* Just to alert you to the fact that today, 14th September 2008, I have put the following stories into the following month's folders. APRIL 2008 has 'Merchandise' a science fiction robot transformation story and ' The Bitch Arrives' a creature transformation featuring a fantasy world. Into MAY 2008 has gone the two parts of 'Charlotte Typed' about the modern day transformation of a woman into a latex-clad submissive and 'Master of Puppets' about a female journalist being turned into the slave of a rock star.
* Just to alert you to the fact that today, 28th July 2008, I have put the story 'Be All That You Seem To Be' into the MARCH 2008 folder. This story is the sequel to 'Be All That You're Meant To Be'. It features concubivores and a demoness, and their transformation of a dull woman into an active lesbian, and a mature lesbian into a youthful vibrant one.
* Just to alert you to the fact that today, 9th June 2008, I have put the story 'Be All That You're Meant To Be', which features concubivores, creatures who live on sexual energy and their transformation of a dull woman, into the MARCH 2008 folder. I hope you enjoy it. A sequel will be following soon.
* Just to alert you to the fact that today, 6th May 2008, I have put the story 'Benighted' which is set in the demi-demon alternate world into the FEBRUARY 2008 folder. I hope you enjoy it. Keep a look out for more stories to follow.
Thursday, 12 February 2009
Wednesday, 30 July 2008
Leather Story: Back in Black
This story was inspired by a woman I encountered when travelling on the London underground railway in May 2004. It has proven to be the most successful erotic story I have written. Since being posted on Literotica in June 2004 it has been accessed on over 45,000 occasions. I do not know if it stems from the fact that it was based on a real person in real locations. Feedback suggests people have welcomed its authenticity. I even had an email from a woman called Geraldine from London whose husband was called Peter, though she did not say if she now behaved or dressed this way, though in my response, I encouraged her at least to try out such an outfit. It may be due to the comparative lack of stories featuring mature women compared to those in their 20s and 30s. Anyway, whatever the reason this has been a surprisingly popular story and I often wonder if the woman who inspired it has ever read it.
Back in Black
Geraldine Hopkins walked slowly along the platform of the Leicester Square underground station looking up at the indicator board for a train to take her home to her flat in Kentish Town. She saw she had a ten-minute wait, which was not bad. It was not yet eleven, and the platform, though busy, was not packed and a lot of people were still heading up the escalators to the delights of the West End of London rather than going home. Geraldine glanced around, noticing a few people looking at her: a couple of men and a woman seem to be interested in what she was wearing. Though she had made great strides today, Geraldine was still a little self-conscious of how she appeared and took a few steps along the platform, feeling even more aware of the leathers she wore than before.
The way she had dressed had all been part of her marking a change. She knew the outfit she wore was not that rare for a woman of her age, early forties, it was usually when a woman reached that age that she could afford to dress like this. Younger women preferred the distressed denims anyway. Though it might be acceptable, Geraldine did feel such an outfit did say something about the woman who dressed like that and how she saw herself. Trying to avoid anyone's gaze she looked down at herself, the smooth black leather boots had a heel, but nothing too outrageous.
The black leather jacket, unfussy, collarless, stretching to just above her waist was common enough for women of all ages in London these days. Maybe it was combining it with the trousers that made the difference. The black leather trousers were snug without being skin-tight. She liked the lack of pockets that would have confused things and how the leather smoothly skimmed her bum, its size and shape she was particularly proud of, the result of sensible eating and exercise. The outfit was completed by a white ribbed top, that again gently showed off her assets without over-emphasising them.
Geraldine had put on jewellery for today's trip out, a couple of necklaces and a few of her rings, though markedly there was not one on the third finger of her left hand. That had been bare since that night three-and-a-half years ago when Peter's adultery had been confirmed to her. She supposed it had made a change for him to run off with the boss, rather than the secretary, and maybe she had to update her views on how the world worked. Partly that had been what today had been about. Today was the second anniversary of the divorce coming through, and, unlike last year she had not sat at her home drinking herself silly, poring over old photos and memories. This year she had had a fun day out.
It had been a pity that Ally was out of town on holiday. Her best friend's marriage was still going strong. However, Geraldine had been determined to have a good time even if on her own and maybe she would not have been so bold with her outfit if Ally had been along. Geraldine had done some shopping, a few indulgences: some jewellery, a nice silk camisole and then tea in an expensive store before a good musical and a tasty Chinese dinner in Soho. Planning it all she had felt courageous and brought together the nice leathers she had assembled on bored weekends over the year. She had never worn them altogether except in front of the mirror and it had been with butterflies in her stomach that she had slipped on the jacket and closed her front door behind her. She had walked briskly to the underground station worried she would run into one of her neighbours, convinced she had become a fallen woman.
They were only clothes after all, Geraldine told herself, but then again were not clothes a reflection of the person in them? That thought gave Geraldine the tingle that had returned a couple of times through the day. The way the soft smooth leather slid over itself, between her arm and body as she reached for something; between her thighs as she walked; the sound of her heels distinct on the tarmac; the rich aroma; the gentle creak as she moved. There was something about leather than no other material had. Beyond that, though, Geraldine knew this outfit was aksi making a statement.
The material may have sexual overtones, but it was tough too. This may be a woman whose bum was comfortably held by shiny leather, but this was a woman too who would strut up to you and speak directly, an independent woman you would not mess with, whether she wanted to see a particular ring, a table in a restaurant or a seat in the theatre. Geraldine loved all those things that she felt her clothes said about her, so unlike the demure woman she had been with Peter. She thought of those shapeless skirts he liked, those blouses that made her look a decade older, and his whole attitude, making her the obedient, compliant wife whilst he lusted after his thrusting (in both senses of the word, no doubt), power-suited boss.
"Can I just say something?" The question came from a man standing just a couple of steps away on the platform.
Geraldine looked up, suddenly her confidence fading. Her mind buzzed with possible scenarios. Was he talking to her? Was he some wino, so common on the underground, about to launch into a bid to beg money? Geraldine looked at him, smiling, the approach she felt would cover any possible outcome.
The man took her look as a 'yes'. "Can I just say, your outfit looks really cool."
"Thank you, thanks, that's nice." Geraldine flushed suddenly and looked away, her eyes fixed firmly on the rails in front of her. As she felt the blush go from her cheeks she looked back, curiosity burning inside her too strongly for her not to do so.
The man was taller than average, probably around six foot exactly. Geraldine was tallish for a woman and so was only five or six inches shorter. The man was probably five or six years younger than her. She wondered what had led him to make the comment. Like herself, he wore glasses. Geraldine's were totally rimless and gave her face a luminance, enhancing the blue eye-shadow her lids wore. His were more rectangular, only framed along the top, giving him a look that mixed seriousness with a relaxed attitude. Geraldine was glad for an instant that he was no tramp and did not appear a psycho. He wore a black moleskin jacket, a blue pullover and beige trousers, all pretty relaxed, reasonably stylish, not down-at-heel, not ostentatious either. Geraldine glanced at his face, quite long, but filling out as he aged. His hair was short, cut close to the scalp, but again in a fashionable way without the hint of the military or some institution.
"Sorry, don't you like compliments?" The man asked.
Geraldine stuttered for a moment. She had guessed his first question had come from some drunken whim, but now he spoke again he seemed sober enough, focused on her, rather than what was running through his mind.
"Erm, I'm not used to them." Geraldine answered honestly.
"That's a surprise, you deserve them." The man answered, his confidence growing, he turned from the standard platform posture of facing the tracks to facing her.
Geraldine wondered at the man's motives. Was he just playing with her to pass the time? Was he trying to chat her up? Was he about to suggest she join some cult or invest in some company? Was he actually a psycho who cruised the underground looking for victims? Countering that, Geraldine felt flattered. Her plan seemed to have worked, how she had dressed herself seemed to be giving out some signals that she was a single woman, not keen on remaining like that for too long.
"Oh." Geraldine replied, her mind void of a more elaborate response.
"Sorry, I should get out of this habit."
"What habit?"
"Striking up conversations with women on public transport."
"Right."
"When I saw you, it was sort of automatic."
"Automatic? Why?" With every sentence they exchanged Geraldine was worried he would ruin it with his sales pitch or something scary.
"I like to see women dressed in leather, I like to encourage them."
"So it's not me that you're interested in, just my clothes?" Geraldine asked, a little irritated.
"No." The man replied quickly. "A sexy woman looks sexy, but in my view leathers just add that finishing touch." He paused. "If I'd walked up and said 'Do you mind if I say how sexy you look?', you'd have run down the platform shouting for the police."
"Point taken." Geraldine said, smiling, sure there was another compliment in the man's explanation. "So, this is something you do most Saturdays? Standing around on the underground complimenting women in leathers?"
"No." This time the man seemed a little more hesitant. "This is the first time."
"Why this time? How much have you had to drink?"
"Nothing. I'm going up to Finchley to collect my car, then it's up the M1 back to Buckinghamshire."
"I see. What were you doing in London?" Geraldine felt she had taken the initiative.
"To buy some presents, to see a movie, it makes a difference on the big screen. I hate Buckinghamshire, I used to live in London, I prefer it down here." he gabbled out his answer, but then took a breath. "Anyway, the women down here are sexier." He looked across at her to see her response
Geraldine nervously brushed her fair, shoulder length hair back from her face. This man was certainly candid, but something about the way he spoke seemed right. She was at a loss what to say next, and fortunately the train arrived and she could focus on getting on board. Geraldine turned right, heading to where she could see a free seat at the end of the carriage. She tried to stop herself looking around to see where the man had gone.
Geraldine sat down. Initially resting her black handbag on her lap, but then putting it down by her feet. She realised she was trying to distract herself from the excitement she was feeling. She recognised the fact that the man's interest had thrilled her. As she straightened up from putting her bag on the floor her eyes connected with his. He was sat opposite and smiled quite sweetly at her.
Geraldine could not stop herself blushing again and gave a brief, and she hoped, dismissive, smile back again. She had been told that men got the message these days, a smile was a put-down, showing clearly that the woman was not interested. Was she interested? What would happen if she was? Geraldine had no idea what to do. She looked back at the man for a clue. There was the smile again, and Geraldine felt strangely reassured. Without noticing she brushed her hands across her neck as if it were tired and then rested her palms on her leather covered thighs. The feel beneath her fingers of the soft, smooth leather, warmed by her body heat, felt so good. Suddenly she felt guilty, had she not been sending out a signal by dressing like this? Was not the act of dressing from head to toe in butter-smooth black leather itself some sort of sign? She dismissed that, it was only a sign that she was a fashionable, independent woman, pleased with her body, and determined to get what she wanted and only what she wanted.
"I'm Andy." The man said, clearly keen to get the conversation started again.
"Geri." Geraldine replied, intentionally using the name Peter had loathed.
"Nice." The man laughed, and that seemed to show Geraldine that he clearly hoped this would go further, but did not know how to advance it. It was up to her now.
The train was momentarily noisy as passengers got on and off at Euston. Geraldine knew the stops very well, but nervously glanced up at the map above the seats opposite counting down the stations to Kentish Town.
"Have you lived in London long?"
"Since I was a student. Tottenham, Hammersmith..."
"Now Kentish Town." Andy said as if emphasising the point that the time was passing quickly, heading towards the moment when they would have to make a decision. He then seemed irritated with himself for cutting her off, and slumped back as if defeated.
Geraldine knew Andy was hesitant, not daring to believe anything much could come of a chance encounter. Geraldine also knew she had to make a decision. She looked Andy over again. He was clean, he was polite, no paunch hung above his belt, and she was sure that under that shirt was some firm flesh. She chided herself, she should not think like that, not measure the man up like a meat in the butcher's. Why not? She had to be honest, she was thinking of the potential for sexual pleasure, weighing it up against the potential for danger. Yet did that not give it a little more edge? Had she not partly made the decision this morning when she had eased her shower-clean legs into the leather trousers, slipped on the top which was not loose, but clung, stepped into the boots with the heel, and selected the jacket that matched rather than contrasted the leather of the trousers? Had she not been saying she was a woman in control, one who had sexual tastes, one who could choose? That was the rub, what did she choose?
Mornington Crescent. No-one got on, no-one got off. She looked back over at Andy. His smile had faded, he looked serene, reading the advertisements above her head. It seemed clear that he had given up hope of this going anywhere. She could see him thinking 'nice, sexy woman, had a brief chat with her, certainly would have liked to get to know her better, to bed her, but that's life, it's all too hesitant these days' or something like that. Geraldine wondered if he would fantasise about what might have happened. That shook her. Would she fantasise about what might have happened as she lay back in her bed later tonight? More accurately would she fantasise about what she could have let, no, made, happen? For a moment Geraldine told herself it could just be a cup of coffee, a quiet chat back at her flat, but knew that was foolish. He would be polite if that was all that he got, Geraldine knew that. She was savvy enough to recognise a 'new man' at a hundred paces. What Geraldine was focusing on now, was would that be all she would settle for? She almost felt like shouting out to the carriage: 'what do I want?'.
The train stopped at Camden Town, with large numbers of teenagers milling around the platform whilst others from this train pushed in amongst them, seeking out the excitement the bars and venues of the district offered. Now the carriage was quieter. Geraldine looked over, Andy's eyes were closed, as if he were meditating, or she hoped, as if he were fixing her image in his mind. She looked to the left of him where her image was reflected in the train window. She saw a sexy woman dressed in black leather, her hair, her make-up, stylish, maybe a little provocative. She did not see Geraldine Hopkins, but a woman knowing the evening was pretty young and that sex was on offer if she wanted it, for the taking, on her terms. As the train pulled out of Camden Town, Geraldine stood up, smoothing out the leather around her thighs and bum, straightening the matching jacket. She walked to stand by the door, but slowly, teasingly, looked back to Andy. His eyes were still closed and that irritated her, the least he could be doing was looking at her, trying to persuade her a little more. She wondered if she had been wrong to think well of him.
The train stopped at Kentish Town and the door opened with its heavy sigh. Andy's eyes flicked open. He looked across at where Geraldine had sat, an expression of acceptance mixed with disappointment on his face.
Were men idiots? Geraldine asked herself as she looked firmly at him, over her shoulder. Knowing she had only seconds she leapt forward and grabbed Andy's right hand, almost pulling him physically through the door. As they staggered on to the platform, the train door closed and the electric engines' moan began rising again and in moments the train was gone.
Geraldine could feel her heart racing. As yet the reality of what she had done had not penetrated her mind. She needed to keep up momentum and still with Andy's hand in her grasp she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tight, her mouth hungry, kissing across his cheek until their lips locked and Geraldine eased her tongue between unresisting teeth. At the taste of him, she knew she had made the right decision.
Geraldine loved the sensation of pushing her body against Andy's, the snug sensation multiplied, by the pressure of his chest against her breasts as he breathed. For a moment, Geraldine fancied stripping him down here, she could feel his cock pushing hard against his trousers as her hand on his back pressed him against her. She gasped as he gripped her buttocks in his hands, lifting her up into him, bringing the leather harder against her flesh.
Whilst Geraldine was enjoying the instant, snatched nature of what was happening, a desire was growing within her for more. She knew she had to have Andy strip her from her clothes and lick her naked body. She broke from the kiss and almost pulled him along the platform. Geraldine was clearly leading the way. The ticket barriers were open and they were soon out in the street heading towards Geraldine's flat. She stopped at the end of her road, to refresh the taste she had of Andy's tongue on her own. As they came nearer to the flat, not speaking, Geraldine could feel a deeper heat building within her that she recognised as a true arousal, this was going to be more than a snog when the pub had closed. She realised that, after so many years without sex with another, she was lusting after this man, he was more than suitable to be Mr. Right Now.
Geraldine tried to calm herself as she fumbled in her handbag for her keys. She did not want to put Andy off by appearing nervous, though she was as eager as a teenager to be closing hard with him. The door opened and the two of them staggered into the hallway. In seconds Geraldine was pressed against the wall, her smooth leather skidding up it as Andy drove in hard, his hands groping, stroking wherever they could. Geraldine let herself rise and hooked her legs behind him, crossing her booted feet. She loved the way her black leather sheathed legs stretched to entrap him. Andy stumbled but carried her successfully through into the living room, and with a delicacy lowered her onto the couch. Yet, Geraldine would not let him go, pulling him on to her with hands and legs, almost mewing in pleasure as his body slid easily across the leather, through the circle of her legs so that his weight rested comfortably on her. Immediately his lips and tongue probed around Geraldine's neck giving her the most delightful of shivers.
Geraldine began tearing at his jacket, then plunged her fingers under his pullover to let them roam on his warm, firm body. It felt so good to have impassioned skin in her grasp, all these sensations she had fantasised of in the past few years, felt so much better in reality. Andy fumbled to get his top off, but Geraldine tore it from him, so glad he had worn something practical that gave her quick access not like the boring buttoned and collared shirts Peter had favoured. Geraldine impatiently snatched at his belt and pulled it free, and as he rained kisses on her face and neck, Geraldine had his chinos half off.
A thought came into Geraldine's mind. This experience had to be savoured. Her initial hunger was sated, and she knew she had Andy for the night. With little grunts and prodding from her legs she pushed him off the couch and into a standing position, with his trousers round his ankles. Geraldine looked at his expression, worried it would be disgruntled, but it seemed more curious, even eager, to find out what Geraldine did next.
"Finish it off." Geraldine commanded breathlessly.
To Geraldine's satisfaction Andy got the message and within moments had shed his shoes and socks, disentangled himself from his trousers and removed his underpants. Geraldine sat there, running her eyes over his naked body, lingering on his erect member, looking forward to feeling it inside her. Geraldine stretched out one black shiny leg and with the toe of her boot prompted Andy to turn slowly, as she admired his shapely bum.
"Keep turning." Geraldine ordered and Andy obeyed slowly.
Geraldine realised how hot she felt, but was reluctant to shed her leather. She slipped off her jacket, then quickly tugged the top over her head to reveal the crimson silk bra below. She slipped the jacket back on, loving the cool feel of it against her bare arms, and the similar, tantalising sensation of her necklaces riding on her bare cleavage.
Geraldine stood and walked slowly, accentuating her steps as if she was a horse at a dressage exercise, placing the toe of her booted foot on the floor then following with her weight on to its heel. Andy became impatient and lunged forward, quickly running his hands beneath the jacket to release Geraldine's bra and, as it fell to the floor, latching his tongue on to a hard nipple, his hand rolling the other between his fingers. Geraldine threw back her head in delight, speech was difficult, and after initial embarrassment she let her words be replaced by moans of pleasure as Andy sensitively, but with strength, sought out her pleasure centres. He lowered himself to his knees and quickly unzipped Geraldine's trousers. Reaching his fingers inside her found her silk panties dark with her juice. His fingers pulled the thin silk aside allowing his tongue long strokes across Geraldine's mound. Geraldine gasped, she was panting, wondering when the sensations would stop, but then his moist tongue connected with Geraldine's erect, starving clitoris and she felt a charge emanate from her sex, rocking her body.
Geraldine staggered back and sat down on the couch with a bump, but Andy was not discouraged and crawled on his knees to her so he could continue his work. Geraldine swung one leg over his right shoulder then the other over his left, again loving the sight of her perfectly leather clad legs pulling this man into her sex. That was the last rational thought Geraldine had as Andy's head nudged up her leathered crotch, skimming easily across the shiny material until his tongue was again in place, running round the lips of her sodden pussy, returning savagely to her clitoris, pushing Geraldine further and further. She was now nothing more than a creature of sweat, of leather, of wordless sounds, of sexual juices, of pleasure. Then the final piece slipped into place as Geraldine let herself live for the instant, unconcerned with anything except what she was experiencing. Her head disappeared into white light, waves of sensation sweeping up her body, centred on her pussy, her clit, but shooting out throughout every fibre of herself.
As her breathing slowed and Geraldine's body returned to some kind of normality, she felt an eagerness. Part of her said she should be grateful, part of her that she should not retain the favour, but the side of her which was now a sexual predator, had had its appetite whetted and its desire to feast some more became dominant. Geraldine unhooked her legs and lent forward pushing Andy back to standing. Slowly she stretched herself in a deliberately feline gesture then stood, thrusting Andy with her hands against the wall. His cock was hard, glistening in the low light. Geraldine raised herself on tiptoes and with after a few moments of jostling impaled herself on his rock hard flesh. It slid so easily into her loose, juicy pussy and Geraldine began shifting, rocking, to get the best sensations from it. Geraldine kissed Andy's sweat covered body, trailing her tongue over him, pulling herself back if she felt he was becoming too aroused, then thrusting again when he was calmed, slapping her leather covered body against him as she came in hard once again so that his knob could dig deep within her.
"Please, please." Andy's voice came weakly, and Geraldine knew what she wanted, but she stepped away, leaving him resting against the wall. He was hesitant, but then as he reached for his cock with his hands, Geraldine yelped at him.
"No!" She screeched; she was the one in control.
Geraldine stepped closer and guided Andy's fingers to massage her pussy lips, to stroke at her clitoris for the few moments it took her to become ready. Then she eased herself back on to Andy's flesh, taking only seconds for the sensation of his cock inside her and his body pressed hard against her aroused nipples for her to explode once more. Her coming triggered Andy's and Geraldine felt she was draining him of life as he slumped, seemingly sucked dry by what Geraldine had done to him.
Geraldine stepped back, so highly aroused not just by the sex she had had, but the realisation that she stood here clad in black like a mistress with Andy before her as her naked toy. She retreated to the sofa and lounged back. Wearily Andy watched her. Geraldine ran her hands over herself, smoothing the leather of her trousers, blemished by Andy's spunk. Smiling, she gestured him over to her and pointed to one patch of sperm. He hesitated but got the message and slowly licked the leather clean. Geraldine pointed out another and Andy went to work. Delighted, Geraldine knew she was building towards yet another great orgasm. It had certainly been an excellent Saturday.
Epilogue
The underground train was busy as Geri stepped on board. She was dressed in a new outfit, a cropped maroon leather jacket sat over the suede bustiere which hugged her shapely breasts. It matched the maroon leather pencil skirt which ran sleek and tight to her knee. Geri loved the smooth taut single sheet of leather stretched tightly across her thighs and ran her fingers delicately over it. Sensuous stockings emerged from beneath the leather but soon disappeared into the sharp-heeled, knee-high boots she wore. Catching her reflection in glass of the train, Geri smiled. Close by was a tall man, probably in his late forties, thick, long blond hair tied back from his face, his body encased in black biker leathers. Geri set him as her target and shifted at each stop until she was hanging from the rail faced towards him, the expanse of maroon leather skirt just inches from his lips. As the train jerked, starting away from a station, Geri let herself be thrown forward. She shuddered with pleasure as she felt the man's hand steady her waist and with her free hand she entrapped it there, pinned between her fingers and the smooth leather she loved so much.
A little surprised, the man looked up, and as his eyes locked on Geri's she slowly ran her tongue over her russet-painted lips. She could see her flat was going to have another first-time visitor tonight.
THE END.
Back in Black
Geraldine Hopkins walked slowly along the platform of the Leicester Square underground station looking up at the indicator board for a train to take her home to her flat in Kentish Town. She saw she had a ten-minute wait, which was not bad. It was not yet eleven, and the platform, though busy, was not packed and a lot of people were still heading up the escalators to the delights of the West End of London rather than going home. Geraldine glanced around, noticing a few people looking at her: a couple of men and a woman seem to be interested in what she was wearing. Though she had made great strides today, Geraldine was still a little self-conscious of how she appeared and took a few steps along the platform, feeling even more aware of the leathers she wore than before.
The way she had dressed had all been part of her marking a change. She knew the outfit she wore was not that rare for a woman of her age, early forties, it was usually when a woman reached that age that she could afford to dress like this. Younger women preferred the distressed denims anyway. Though it might be acceptable, Geraldine did feel such an outfit did say something about the woman who dressed like that and how she saw herself. Trying to avoid anyone's gaze she looked down at herself, the smooth black leather boots had a heel, but nothing too outrageous.
The black leather jacket, unfussy, collarless, stretching to just above her waist was common enough for women of all ages in London these days. Maybe it was combining it with the trousers that made the difference. The black leather trousers were snug without being skin-tight. She liked the lack of pockets that would have confused things and how the leather smoothly skimmed her bum, its size and shape she was particularly proud of, the result of sensible eating and exercise. The outfit was completed by a white ribbed top, that again gently showed off her assets without over-emphasising them.
Geraldine had put on jewellery for today's trip out, a couple of necklaces and a few of her rings, though markedly there was not one on the third finger of her left hand. That had been bare since that night three-and-a-half years ago when Peter's adultery had been confirmed to her. She supposed it had made a change for him to run off with the boss, rather than the secretary, and maybe she had to update her views on how the world worked. Partly that had been what today had been about. Today was the second anniversary of the divorce coming through, and, unlike last year she had not sat at her home drinking herself silly, poring over old photos and memories. This year she had had a fun day out.
It had been a pity that Ally was out of town on holiday. Her best friend's marriage was still going strong. However, Geraldine had been determined to have a good time even if on her own and maybe she would not have been so bold with her outfit if Ally had been along. Geraldine had done some shopping, a few indulgences: some jewellery, a nice silk camisole and then tea in an expensive store before a good musical and a tasty Chinese dinner in Soho. Planning it all she had felt courageous and brought together the nice leathers she had assembled on bored weekends over the year. She had never worn them altogether except in front of the mirror and it had been with butterflies in her stomach that she had slipped on the jacket and closed her front door behind her. She had walked briskly to the underground station worried she would run into one of her neighbours, convinced she had become a fallen woman.
They were only clothes after all, Geraldine told herself, but then again were not clothes a reflection of the person in them? That thought gave Geraldine the tingle that had returned a couple of times through the day. The way the soft smooth leather slid over itself, between her arm and body as she reached for something; between her thighs as she walked; the sound of her heels distinct on the tarmac; the rich aroma; the gentle creak as she moved. There was something about leather than no other material had. Beyond that, though, Geraldine knew this outfit was aksi making a statement.
The material may have sexual overtones, but it was tough too. This may be a woman whose bum was comfortably held by shiny leather, but this was a woman too who would strut up to you and speak directly, an independent woman you would not mess with, whether she wanted to see a particular ring, a table in a restaurant or a seat in the theatre. Geraldine loved all those things that she felt her clothes said about her, so unlike the demure woman she had been with Peter. She thought of those shapeless skirts he liked, those blouses that made her look a decade older, and his whole attitude, making her the obedient, compliant wife whilst he lusted after his thrusting (in both senses of the word, no doubt), power-suited boss.
"Can I just say something?" The question came from a man standing just a couple of steps away on the platform.
Geraldine looked up, suddenly her confidence fading. Her mind buzzed with possible scenarios. Was he talking to her? Was he some wino, so common on the underground, about to launch into a bid to beg money? Geraldine looked at him, smiling, the approach she felt would cover any possible outcome.
The man took her look as a 'yes'. "Can I just say, your outfit looks really cool."
"Thank you, thanks, that's nice." Geraldine flushed suddenly and looked away, her eyes fixed firmly on the rails in front of her. As she felt the blush go from her cheeks she looked back, curiosity burning inside her too strongly for her not to do so.
The man was taller than average, probably around six foot exactly. Geraldine was tallish for a woman and so was only five or six inches shorter. The man was probably five or six years younger than her. She wondered what had led him to make the comment. Like herself, he wore glasses. Geraldine's were totally rimless and gave her face a luminance, enhancing the blue eye-shadow her lids wore. His were more rectangular, only framed along the top, giving him a look that mixed seriousness with a relaxed attitude. Geraldine was glad for an instant that he was no tramp and did not appear a psycho. He wore a black moleskin jacket, a blue pullover and beige trousers, all pretty relaxed, reasonably stylish, not down-at-heel, not ostentatious either. Geraldine glanced at his face, quite long, but filling out as he aged. His hair was short, cut close to the scalp, but again in a fashionable way without the hint of the military or some institution.
"Sorry, don't you like compliments?" The man asked.
Geraldine stuttered for a moment. She had guessed his first question had come from some drunken whim, but now he spoke again he seemed sober enough, focused on her, rather than what was running through his mind.
"Erm, I'm not used to them." Geraldine answered honestly.
"That's a surprise, you deserve them." The man answered, his confidence growing, he turned from the standard platform posture of facing the tracks to facing her.
Geraldine wondered at the man's motives. Was he just playing with her to pass the time? Was he trying to chat her up? Was he about to suggest she join some cult or invest in some company? Was he actually a psycho who cruised the underground looking for victims? Countering that, Geraldine felt flattered. Her plan seemed to have worked, how she had dressed herself seemed to be giving out some signals that she was a single woman, not keen on remaining like that for too long.
"Oh." Geraldine replied, her mind void of a more elaborate response.
"Sorry, I should get out of this habit."
"What habit?"
"Striking up conversations with women on public transport."
"Right."
"When I saw you, it was sort of automatic."
"Automatic? Why?" With every sentence they exchanged Geraldine was worried he would ruin it with his sales pitch or something scary.
"I like to see women dressed in leather, I like to encourage them."
"So it's not me that you're interested in, just my clothes?" Geraldine asked, a little irritated.
"No." The man replied quickly. "A sexy woman looks sexy, but in my view leathers just add that finishing touch." He paused. "If I'd walked up and said 'Do you mind if I say how sexy you look?', you'd have run down the platform shouting for the police."
"Point taken." Geraldine said, smiling, sure there was another compliment in the man's explanation. "So, this is something you do most Saturdays? Standing around on the underground complimenting women in leathers?"
"No." This time the man seemed a little more hesitant. "This is the first time."
"Why this time? How much have you had to drink?"
"Nothing. I'm going up to Finchley to collect my car, then it's up the M1 back to Buckinghamshire."
"I see. What were you doing in London?" Geraldine felt she had taken the initiative.
"To buy some presents, to see a movie, it makes a difference on the big screen. I hate Buckinghamshire, I used to live in London, I prefer it down here." he gabbled out his answer, but then took a breath. "Anyway, the women down here are sexier." He looked across at her to see her response
Geraldine nervously brushed her fair, shoulder length hair back from her face. This man was certainly candid, but something about the way he spoke seemed right. She was at a loss what to say next, and fortunately the train arrived and she could focus on getting on board. Geraldine turned right, heading to where she could see a free seat at the end of the carriage. She tried to stop herself looking around to see where the man had gone.
Geraldine sat down. Initially resting her black handbag on her lap, but then putting it down by her feet. She realised she was trying to distract herself from the excitement she was feeling. She recognised the fact that the man's interest had thrilled her. As she straightened up from putting her bag on the floor her eyes connected with his. He was sat opposite and smiled quite sweetly at her.
Geraldine could not stop herself blushing again and gave a brief, and she hoped, dismissive, smile back again. She had been told that men got the message these days, a smile was a put-down, showing clearly that the woman was not interested. Was she interested? What would happen if she was? Geraldine had no idea what to do. She looked back at the man for a clue. There was the smile again, and Geraldine felt strangely reassured. Without noticing she brushed her hands across her neck as if it were tired and then rested her palms on her leather covered thighs. The feel beneath her fingers of the soft, smooth leather, warmed by her body heat, felt so good. Suddenly she felt guilty, had she not been sending out a signal by dressing like this? Was not the act of dressing from head to toe in butter-smooth black leather itself some sort of sign? She dismissed that, it was only a sign that she was a fashionable, independent woman, pleased with her body, and determined to get what she wanted and only what she wanted.
"I'm Andy." The man said, clearly keen to get the conversation started again.
"Geri." Geraldine replied, intentionally using the name Peter had loathed.
"Nice." The man laughed, and that seemed to show Geraldine that he clearly hoped this would go further, but did not know how to advance it. It was up to her now.
The train was momentarily noisy as passengers got on and off at Euston. Geraldine knew the stops very well, but nervously glanced up at the map above the seats opposite counting down the stations to Kentish Town.
"Have you lived in London long?"
"Since I was a student. Tottenham, Hammersmith..."
"Now Kentish Town." Andy said as if emphasising the point that the time was passing quickly, heading towards the moment when they would have to make a decision. He then seemed irritated with himself for cutting her off, and slumped back as if defeated.
Geraldine knew Andy was hesitant, not daring to believe anything much could come of a chance encounter. Geraldine also knew she had to make a decision. She looked Andy over again. He was clean, he was polite, no paunch hung above his belt, and she was sure that under that shirt was some firm flesh. She chided herself, she should not think like that, not measure the man up like a meat in the butcher's. Why not? She had to be honest, she was thinking of the potential for sexual pleasure, weighing it up against the potential for danger. Yet did that not give it a little more edge? Had she not partly made the decision this morning when she had eased her shower-clean legs into the leather trousers, slipped on the top which was not loose, but clung, stepped into the boots with the heel, and selected the jacket that matched rather than contrasted the leather of the trousers? Had she not been saying she was a woman in control, one who had sexual tastes, one who could choose? That was the rub, what did she choose?
Mornington Crescent. No-one got on, no-one got off. She looked back over at Andy. His smile had faded, he looked serene, reading the advertisements above her head. It seemed clear that he had given up hope of this going anywhere. She could see him thinking 'nice, sexy woman, had a brief chat with her, certainly would have liked to get to know her better, to bed her, but that's life, it's all too hesitant these days' or something like that. Geraldine wondered if he would fantasise about what might have happened. That shook her. Would she fantasise about what might have happened as she lay back in her bed later tonight? More accurately would she fantasise about what she could have let, no, made, happen? For a moment Geraldine told herself it could just be a cup of coffee, a quiet chat back at her flat, but knew that was foolish. He would be polite if that was all that he got, Geraldine knew that. She was savvy enough to recognise a 'new man' at a hundred paces. What Geraldine was focusing on now, was would that be all she would settle for? She almost felt like shouting out to the carriage: 'what do I want?'.
The train stopped at Camden Town, with large numbers of teenagers milling around the platform whilst others from this train pushed in amongst them, seeking out the excitement the bars and venues of the district offered. Now the carriage was quieter. Geraldine looked over, Andy's eyes were closed, as if he were meditating, or she hoped, as if he were fixing her image in his mind. She looked to the left of him where her image was reflected in the train window. She saw a sexy woman dressed in black leather, her hair, her make-up, stylish, maybe a little provocative. She did not see Geraldine Hopkins, but a woman knowing the evening was pretty young and that sex was on offer if she wanted it, for the taking, on her terms. As the train pulled out of Camden Town, Geraldine stood up, smoothing out the leather around her thighs and bum, straightening the matching jacket. She walked to stand by the door, but slowly, teasingly, looked back to Andy. His eyes were still closed and that irritated her, the least he could be doing was looking at her, trying to persuade her a little more. She wondered if she had been wrong to think well of him.
The train stopped at Kentish Town and the door opened with its heavy sigh. Andy's eyes flicked open. He looked across at where Geraldine had sat, an expression of acceptance mixed with disappointment on his face.
Were men idiots? Geraldine asked herself as she looked firmly at him, over her shoulder. Knowing she had only seconds she leapt forward and grabbed Andy's right hand, almost pulling him physically through the door. As they staggered on to the platform, the train door closed and the electric engines' moan began rising again and in moments the train was gone.
Geraldine could feel her heart racing. As yet the reality of what she had done had not penetrated her mind. She needed to keep up momentum and still with Andy's hand in her grasp she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in tight, her mouth hungry, kissing across his cheek until their lips locked and Geraldine eased her tongue between unresisting teeth. At the taste of him, she knew she had made the right decision.
Geraldine loved the sensation of pushing her body against Andy's, the snug sensation multiplied, by the pressure of his chest against her breasts as he breathed. For a moment, Geraldine fancied stripping him down here, she could feel his cock pushing hard against his trousers as her hand on his back pressed him against her. She gasped as he gripped her buttocks in his hands, lifting her up into him, bringing the leather harder against her flesh.
Whilst Geraldine was enjoying the instant, snatched nature of what was happening, a desire was growing within her for more. She knew she had to have Andy strip her from her clothes and lick her naked body. She broke from the kiss and almost pulled him along the platform. Geraldine was clearly leading the way. The ticket barriers were open and they were soon out in the street heading towards Geraldine's flat. She stopped at the end of her road, to refresh the taste she had of Andy's tongue on her own. As they came nearer to the flat, not speaking, Geraldine could feel a deeper heat building within her that she recognised as a true arousal, this was going to be more than a snog when the pub had closed. She realised that, after so many years without sex with another, she was lusting after this man, he was more than suitable to be Mr. Right Now.
Geraldine tried to calm herself as she fumbled in her handbag for her keys. She did not want to put Andy off by appearing nervous, though she was as eager as a teenager to be closing hard with him. The door opened and the two of them staggered into the hallway. In seconds Geraldine was pressed against the wall, her smooth leather skidding up it as Andy drove in hard, his hands groping, stroking wherever they could. Geraldine let herself rise and hooked her legs behind him, crossing her booted feet. She loved the way her black leather sheathed legs stretched to entrap him. Andy stumbled but carried her successfully through into the living room, and with a delicacy lowered her onto the couch. Yet, Geraldine would not let him go, pulling him on to her with hands and legs, almost mewing in pleasure as his body slid easily across the leather, through the circle of her legs so that his weight rested comfortably on her. Immediately his lips and tongue probed around Geraldine's neck giving her the most delightful of shivers.
Geraldine began tearing at his jacket, then plunged her fingers under his pullover to let them roam on his warm, firm body. It felt so good to have impassioned skin in her grasp, all these sensations she had fantasised of in the past few years, felt so much better in reality. Andy fumbled to get his top off, but Geraldine tore it from him, so glad he had worn something practical that gave her quick access not like the boring buttoned and collared shirts Peter had favoured. Geraldine impatiently snatched at his belt and pulled it free, and as he rained kisses on her face and neck, Geraldine had his chinos half off.
A thought came into Geraldine's mind. This experience had to be savoured. Her initial hunger was sated, and she knew she had Andy for the night. With little grunts and prodding from her legs she pushed him off the couch and into a standing position, with his trousers round his ankles. Geraldine looked at his expression, worried it would be disgruntled, but it seemed more curious, even eager, to find out what Geraldine did next.
"Finish it off." Geraldine commanded breathlessly.
To Geraldine's satisfaction Andy got the message and within moments had shed his shoes and socks, disentangled himself from his trousers and removed his underpants. Geraldine sat there, running her eyes over his naked body, lingering on his erect member, looking forward to feeling it inside her. Geraldine stretched out one black shiny leg and with the toe of her boot prompted Andy to turn slowly, as she admired his shapely bum.
"Keep turning." Geraldine ordered and Andy obeyed slowly.
Geraldine realised how hot she felt, but was reluctant to shed her leather. She slipped off her jacket, then quickly tugged the top over her head to reveal the crimson silk bra below. She slipped the jacket back on, loving the cool feel of it against her bare arms, and the similar, tantalising sensation of her necklaces riding on her bare cleavage.
Geraldine stood and walked slowly, accentuating her steps as if she was a horse at a dressage exercise, placing the toe of her booted foot on the floor then following with her weight on to its heel. Andy became impatient and lunged forward, quickly running his hands beneath the jacket to release Geraldine's bra and, as it fell to the floor, latching his tongue on to a hard nipple, his hand rolling the other between his fingers. Geraldine threw back her head in delight, speech was difficult, and after initial embarrassment she let her words be replaced by moans of pleasure as Andy sensitively, but with strength, sought out her pleasure centres. He lowered himself to his knees and quickly unzipped Geraldine's trousers. Reaching his fingers inside her found her silk panties dark with her juice. His fingers pulled the thin silk aside allowing his tongue long strokes across Geraldine's mound. Geraldine gasped, she was panting, wondering when the sensations would stop, but then his moist tongue connected with Geraldine's erect, starving clitoris and she felt a charge emanate from her sex, rocking her body.
Geraldine staggered back and sat down on the couch with a bump, but Andy was not discouraged and crawled on his knees to her so he could continue his work. Geraldine swung one leg over his right shoulder then the other over his left, again loving the sight of her perfectly leather clad legs pulling this man into her sex. That was the last rational thought Geraldine had as Andy's head nudged up her leathered crotch, skimming easily across the shiny material until his tongue was again in place, running round the lips of her sodden pussy, returning savagely to her clitoris, pushing Geraldine further and further. She was now nothing more than a creature of sweat, of leather, of wordless sounds, of sexual juices, of pleasure. Then the final piece slipped into place as Geraldine let herself live for the instant, unconcerned with anything except what she was experiencing. Her head disappeared into white light, waves of sensation sweeping up her body, centred on her pussy, her clit, but shooting out throughout every fibre of herself.
As her breathing slowed and Geraldine's body returned to some kind of normality, she felt an eagerness. Part of her said she should be grateful, part of her that she should not retain the favour, but the side of her which was now a sexual predator, had had its appetite whetted and its desire to feast some more became dominant. Geraldine unhooked her legs and lent forward pushing Andy back to standing. Slowly she stretched herself in a deliberately feline gesture then stood, thrusting Andy with her hands against the wall. His cock was hard, glistening in the low light. Geraldine raised herself on tiptoes and with after a few moments of jostling impaled herself on his rock hard flesh. It slid so easily into her loose, juicy pussy and Geraldine began shifting, rocking, to get the best sensations from it. Geraldine kissed Andy's sweat covered body, trailing her tongue over him, pulling herself back if she felt he was becoming too aroused, then thrusting again when he was calmed, slapping her leather covered body against him as she came in hard once again so that his knob could dig deep within her.
"Please, please." Andy's voice came weakly, and Geraldine knew what she wanted, but she stepped away, leaving him resting against the wall. He was hesitant, but then as he reached for his cock with his hands, Geraldine yelped at him.
"No!" She screeched; she was the one in control.
Geraldine stepped closer and guided Andy's fingers to massage her pussy lips, to stroke at her clitoris for the few moments it took her to become ready. Then she eased herself back on to Andy's flesh, taking only seconds for the sensation of his cock inside her and his body pressed hard against her aroused nipples for her to explode once more. Her coming triggered Andy's and Geraldine felt she was draining him of life as he slumped, seemingly sucked dry by what Geraldine had done to him.
Geraldine stepped back, so highly aroused not just by the sex she had had, but the realisation that she stood here clad in black like a mistress with Andy before her as her naked toy. She retreated to the sofa and lounged back. Wearily Andy watched her. Geraldine ran her hands over herself, smoothing the leather of her trousers, blemished by Andy's spunk. Smiling, she gestured him over to her and pointed to one patch of sperm. He hesitated but got the message and slowly licked the leather clean. Geraldine pointed out another and Andy went to work. Delighted, Geraldine knew she was building towards yet another great orgasm. It had certainly been an excellent Saturday.
Epilogue
The underground train was busy as Geri stepped on board. She was dressed in a new outfit, a cropped maroon leather jacket sat over the suede bustiere which hugged her shapely breasts. It matched the maroon leather pencil skirt which ran sleek and tight to her knee. Geri loved the smooth taut single sheet of leather stretched tightly across her thighs and ran her fingers delicately over it. Sensuous stockings emerged from beneath the leather but soon disappeared into the sharp-heeled, knee-high boots she wore. Catching her reflection in glass of the train, Geri smiled. Close by was a tall man, probably in his late forties, thick, long blond hair tied back from his face, his body encased in black biker leathers. Geri set him as her target and shifted at each stop until she was hanging from the rail faced towards him, the expanse of maroon leather skirt just inches from his lips. As the train jerked, starting away from a station, Geri let herself be thrown forward. She shuddered with pleasure as she felt the man's hand steady her waist and with her free hand she entrapped it there, pinned between her fingers and the smooth leather she loved so much.
A little surprised, the man looked up, and as his eyes locked on Geri's she slowly ran her tongue over her russet-painted lips. She could see her flat was going to have another first-time visitor tonight.
THE END.
Leather Story: New Leathers, New Lovers
This story was very much inspired by people and events that I witnessed while living in London in the late 1990s/early 2000s. The character of Jenny came from a woman I met in a pub in East London who was doing a degree in her late 20s. The leatherwear shop was inspired by those that you found in large numbers along Oxford Street and Carnaby Street back in those days, most of which have gone now. The bar was inspired by places around Soho Square. Ironically the character I named Mac turns over to be very similar to the doctor of that name in the series 'Green Wing' who also rode a motorbike.
New leathers, new lovers
“Jenny, it’s over.” Paul said, now sounding irritated.
“What? Where did this come from?”
“You must have noticed things between us have changed.”
Jenny shook her head indignantly.
“That’s the problem you see nothing beyond your own concerns. You don’t see what I need.”
“What do you need? We have good times.”
“What do you mean? We hardly talk, you’re always typing away on that computer every chance you get. We’re not close any more.”
“What’s this about? Sex?”
Paul hesitated. “To some extent, yes.”
Jenny looked away, gazing carelessly at a magazine on the table. She did not know what to say.
“When we first met you looked good, you dressed sexily, you had an energy. Now that’s gone.”
“Things are tiring, life is tiring, work...”
“Yes, the job, the course, the novel. Am I fourth or fifth on that list? Look what it has done to you. Have you looked in the mirror recently? Look at what you’re wearing.”
Jenny looked down at herself. From the rather battered slippers passed the long loose brown skirt to the baggy sweater she had had for years. They were comfortable, they were what she wore.
“It is a Saturday night and you look ready to slump down with a cup of cocoa.”
Jenny looked over at Paul. He did look ready to go out to a night club, a trendy short sleeved shirt, the shiny dark grey trousers, the chunky shoes, his hair combed up. She was the younger of the two by a couple of years, but even she had to admit it did look like an aunt and her nephew arguing.
“I’m going out. There’s nothing more to say now. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” Paul walked into the hall and picked up the new long leather jacket he had bought. He glanced back at Jenny as if her some chance.
“There’s someone else isn’t there?” Jenny snapped at him. His changed manner, the new jacket had told her.
Paul glanced back but said nothing. He went out through the front door. The fact he did not slam it irritated Jenny, as if he was no longer interested in wasting his anger on her.
Jenny was beginning to wonder why she had come into town. Part of her thought it was better than sitting at home wallowing in self-pity or getting too drunk. Part of her knew it was because she wanted to see who Paul was with. If he was with John or Andy or any of the other mates he had, she could go home happy. She walked through the shopping centre gazing from the gloomy street lit by orange lights into the brightly lit pubs and bars. They were busy but she was certain she would be able to see him. She heard the sound of girls giggling behind her. She stepped aside imagining them to be teenagers. The group of four walked passed her, dressed in bright foil dresses and long boots. As they did she could see they were not teenagers, they were her age, late twenties. Among them she saw Karen who Jenny knew from the college and she must be five years older than that. She watched them as they hurried up the street laughing and joking, throwing out saucy comments to a group of lads on the other side of the road. They were having fun, they were enjoying their bodies, not trying to be stick-thin supermodels, but proud in what they had.
Jenny stopped in front of a bar, one she and Paul had used to go to. The interior had been changed, but as she looked in she still recognised a couple of the staff behind the bar. Then she saw him. A feeling ran through Jenny as if she had been punched in the stomach. Paul was there with Andy and Gill, his girlfriend. He was standing holding a bottle of beer in one hand, laughing. It was only as she looked harder that she saw Paul’s arm was wrapped around a woman. Jenny pressed closer to the window taking in all the details. She had expected some blonde bimbo ten years younger than herself but this woman was her own age. Her hair was a very dark brown, stretching beyond her shoulders. Not too different to Jenny’s, but it looked fine and smooth, well tended not a mass of knots like her own generally was after a night of re-working the latest chapter. Her face was made up, not tarty but sophisticated. She probably looked as blotchy as Jenny in the mornings, but this was not a cold morning, it was an evening out and her look fitted.
The woman wore a tight silk blouse. Her breasts were average but were enhanced by the silk which clung to them and the bra she wore below. From the glances Jenny caught between the blouse’s buttons she at first thought it was silk, but then realised it was leather. It must be the softest leather ever. Jenny had no doubt the women had leather knickers to match. Paul’s hand was cupped around her bum which wore tight shiny leather trousers. The way they rippled as the woman moved showed they were real leather, not some fake plastic. She looked both comfortable and yet sexy. Jenny had never really thought the two went together, but this evening she could see a woman who had combined them successfully.
Jenny did not know what to do now. She felt drained. She had found the answer that she had expected. She felt some kind of relief but this was edged with anger at Paul, that he could not admit there was this other woman. Something told Jenny to storm into the bar, to slap him across the face and pour his beer all over him, but that was juvenile, she would come off looking worse. It would be better to go in calmly, as if she had just stumbled across him on her way home, then embarrass him in front of his friends, in front of the whole bar. She turned back to look at him again. The woman’s hand was stroking up his back, smoothing the leather of his new jacket. He responded and turned to kiss her, a long lingering kiss. They were the lovers, not herself and Paul, they had never looked like that in public, she had always been too self-conscious. This woman was unashamed, proud to be with Paul, Jenny knew she would not succeed in embarrassing her. She told herself it was best to go home.
Jenny looked through the window for the last time, now feeling bemused by it all. Then she saw that Paul and the others with him had gone. Urgently she looked up and down the inside but could not see them in the crowd. She could not let them run into her out here. Andy and Gill knew her well and for them to see her would be too much, but to meet Paul with his new woman would be total humiliation. Jenny turned to walk away up the street. Then Andy and Gill came out of through the door. Paul followed on after them. Jenny shrunk into the shadows, praying she would not be seen, but unable to look away. Paul hesitated at the door. “Lucy, you’re coming?” He asked.
Jenny heard the voice before Lucy stepped through the door into the street light.
“I was just getting my jacket.”
Lucy came on to the pavement. She was easing on a cropped black leather jacket as she did. It matched her tight trousers in its shine. Paul wrapped his arm around her, hugging her shiny smooth bum as they carried on up the street. The high-heels of Lucy’s ankle boots clicked as she walked away. Jenny stood transfixed. The woman was at once so confident and so sexy. The light caught the shiny leather as she walked. It rippled and caressed her with every step.
Jenny was flushed, somehow embarrassed seeing the woman. She felt inadequate, knowing she did not have a fraction of Lucy’s attitude, not an ounce of her sexiness. Then she felt a jealousy, a hunger, wishing it was her strutting away instead of Lucy. To be dressed like that and embraced by Paul, the thought made her tingle. Nervously she followed, somehow feeling that if she stayed in sight some of the magic would rub off on herself. In moments the couple had crossed the road. They were heading towards a new night club. Jenny followed and joined the queue three or four people back. She just caught glimpses of Lucy, laughing, whispering in Paul’s ear, no doubt about her plans for him later.
Then they were gone from sight, passed through into the nightclub. Jenny was nervous, she was uncertain what she would do. The idea that she should confront Paul returned. She would tell him that she could be everything that Lucy was if he came back to her.
“Sorry love, I can’t let you in.” The bouncer’s words snapped Jenny out of her thoughts.
“What?”
“I can’t let you in.” The bouncer was firm but patient. He nodded to another couple of women who stepped past him. He moved to the side guiding Jenny away from the queue.
“Why? I’ve got the money.”
“That’s not the problem. You’re not dressed right.” He nodded to the women just going in with their spangly string-strap tops and tight jeans. “You have to be wearing something at least like that.”
Jenny did not argue, she knew it was true. “Okay.” She spoke quietly, but the bouncer had already turned his attention to the next clutch of customers. The excitement of seeing Paul and Lucy had faded. They were out of her sight and she could not conjure up any images of what they were doing. Suddenly she felt very tired and foolish standing on the street with all these people around. Slowly she began retracing her steps home.
Jenny walked slowly up the road back home from the station. Her boss was a sympathetic soul and had given her the afternoon off, even encouraged her to book a beauty session in town. Her argument was retail therapy worked every time and a session with a beautician could make a new woman of you. It had been days since Jenny had seen Paul, though from the fact his clothes and other items had gone from the house she guessed he had been back when she was at work. Jenny thought him a coward. What she wanted was not retail therapy but the final argument, to drag the answers out of him, to find out where Lucy had come from and to insult and condemn her.
As Jenny turned into her road she froze. There was a car outside her house. Then Paul emerged carrying a box. Without thinking, Jenny began walking faster, looking intently, making sure it was indeed Paul. As she got closer she noticed what he wore, his new leather jacket was now matched by baggy leather trousers, no doubt Lucy’s influence. Then the woman herself emerged. She had some kind of holdall. She was dressed from head to toe in burgundy, burgundy leather at that - a long length jacket, looser trousers than the night in the bar but ones that still showed her shapely body and kitten-heeled boots to match. As they set what they were carrying down by the car, the couple stopped to kiss. Lucy pulled him close locking him in place with her thigh wrapped around his bum.
“Paul!” Jenny said with force, but not shouting. She cleared the short distance to him in moments.
“Jenny.” He seemed really surprised. “I thought you’d be at work.” Paul’s arm stayed around Lucy’s back, holding her close as if to defend her.
“No.” Jenny said. Now the initial assault was over she did not know what to say. She glanced over to Lucy. She noticed that beneath the jacket she wore just a black leather waistcoat, and nothing below.
“You’d like that, Paul,” Jenny said accusingly, “just a row of popper buttons and you can be touching her skin.”
“Yes, I like that, I like it a lot. Lucy does too.”
Lucy said nothing but slowly nodded.
“Lucy and I are lovers, how we dress, how we respond to each other is part of that.” Paul continued. “When I tried to come close to you, I did not see a woman even aware of being a sexual creature. I faced having to grapple through the shelves of the local charity shop to reach you, uncertain what I would find beneath it all. With Lucy I see a woman who is confident, proud of her sex, pleased to be with me. Even you can see that.”
Jenny was speechless. She looked down at her work clothes, dated but smart. She was angry that she had nothing to dispute Paul’s argument.
“Jenny,” Paul’s voice was softer now, “I was not going to try to intrude if you wanted to shut me out. You were telling me we were no longer close by throwing yourself into your work. It took Lucy to show me the signals I had been missing.”
Jenny was tired. She turned into her pathway. “Okay.” She said softly. She turned back at the door and watched for a few moments as the couple loaded the car. Even as Lucy did something as mundane as put a box into the boot, she gave off her signals, Jenny watched the leather of her trousers tighten as she bent and release as she stood. In moments she was in a car and moments later than that Paul and her were gone.
Jenny glanced at her watch, she had to hurry if she was going to get to town inside. She threw aside all the thoughts that had been running through her mind and concentrated on a quick lunch and changing to go out.
“There you are madam.”
Jenny looked down at the neatly manicured nails, now painted silver. She had to admit they did look good. She glanced into the mirror at the make-up on her face. She looked serious, but more energised. She ran her tongue along her shiny dark red lips, blew herself a kiss and laughed. Her boss would be pleased, if no-one else. Then she told herself that was being too hard. She was actually enjoying the pampering, it had been what she needed. With all the herbal tea and kind words from the beauticians, however false, she did feel comforted and all thought of Paul had gone from her mind. She began thinking instead of buying some clothes or going for afternoon tea.
“The final touch.” The hairdresser said proudly. Jenny again tried to place her accent, uncertain whether she was Dutch or Scandinavian.
The covers came off to reveal Jenny’s new hairstyle. She almost jerked back with surprise. She knew it would be shorter by far than she had had it, but what surprised her was rather than the auburn colouring she had expected, it was a rich blonde.
“That’s the E3 colour?” Jenny asked slowly, remembering back to the chart of colours she had perused when she came in.
“Yes, A3, as you asked. Doesn’t it look great, very strong and dynamic.”
“Yes, it’s great.” Jenny turned her head a little. The colour accentuated the short length. The boss would be surprised when Jenny arrived looking like a power-dressing film exec.
“Lovely, I like the effect.” Jenny said, not wanting to hurt the woman’s feelings. The hairdresser brightened with the positive comments. Jenny kept looking. Well, if this was the post-Paul Jenny, this was her. She paid and tucked her clutch of products into her black leather handbag, the one she had not used for ages.
Jenny left the salon. She wandered through the department store in a bit of a daze, surprised every time she caught sight of herself in a mirror. She did not recognise the blonde, short-haired woman with the smooth make-up. She drifted aimlessly through the clothing sections, with half a mind to buy an outfit to go with the new haircut. That made her brighten a bit. No-one was paying attention to her, she did not stick out the way she had feared. She had no idea what she wanted, but everything looked too suited to teenagers or grannies. As Jenny lifted a few things from the hangers she again felt people were looking her, mentally telling her she was unsuited for what she had picked. She put the stuff back, she was not going to find anything in a busy place like this. Jenny walked out of the shop into the street letting herself go with the flow of the crowd. She thought about what Paul had said and began thinking about what he would like her to wear. She agreed she had probably not cared as much as she had, and just tossed on what was comfortable with little thought for her appearance or what made her feel good to wear. How Lucy dressed was no doubt how he would like to have seen her.
Lucy! Suddenly through the crowd Jenny was sure she had seen her. The burgundy leather was distinctive enough and the woman she saw had the same long dark hair. Jenny hurried to catch up, not certain what she do if she found her. Jenny dodged through the crowd on the pavement, it seemed to be getting busier. Lucy was still in sight waiting to go over at the next crossing. Jenny could gain on her. Then instead of crossing there Lucy turned right and went over the main road as the green man on that crossing appeared. Jenny slipped between the shoppers, trying not to knock into anyone as she did. Somehow Lucy seemed to have got ahead again. Then Jenny just caught a glance as she turned into a shop. In moments Jenny was there. Like many of the shops in the area it was on two levels. Upstairs sold jeans and teeshirts, then at the head of the stairs to the basement level stood two mannequins dressed in long leather jackets.
There was no sign of Lucy upstairs so Jenny headed to the staircase. As she walked down the steps she left the noise of the street behind. Below was an Aladdin’s cave. It was a large space with leather jackets and trousers at one end, a wide assortment of boots at the other and odd items of clubbing gear between. The air was heavy with the drowsy scent of leather. Jenny reached the foot of the staircase and looked around, there was no sign of Lucy. She began to turn to leave.
“Can I help? Are you looking for something special?”
Jenny turned back to see a small Asian man appearing from a stock room. She felt embarrassed, but warmed to the man’s tone. Here with no other customers she felt there was no rush.
“Erm, er, yes.” She said walking into the centre of the shop. “A jacket.”
“Yes, good. We have a whole range, the best prices. Three-quarter length?” The man asked with the experience of years in the trade. He crossed to the hangers between the full-length ladies coats and the shorter jackets.
Seeing the black leather the image of Lucy coming out of the bar with Paul flashed into her mind. “No, something shorter. Erm, cropped, what’s that style?”
“Ah, yes, a bolero jacket.” The shopkeeper moved along to the shorter jackets and pulled down one in black leather.
“Yes, that’s it.” Jenny replied, forgetting this was some sort of pretence. “A bolero, but a bit shinier.” It did not quite match the image in her mind.
“Ah, you want glazed leather. Very popular.” The man lifted down a similar jacket, but the shine on it was what Jenny had had in her mind’s eye.
“That’s it, great.”
The shopkeeper walked over with the jacket draped across his hands so she could see it. He hesitated and Jenny realised he was waiting for her to try it on. Quickly she pulled off her wool jacket and laid it on the padded bench. The man walked around her as she slid her arms into the jacket. In moments it was on her. It felt comfortable and looked good. She walked to the mirror admiring it. It made her look more alive. She twisted round so she could see the back. She ran her hands over the seat of her jeans, still visible below the short length of the jacket.
“You’d like some matching trousers?” It was a woman’s voice. Jenny looked round to see her coming from the storeroom. The assistant could have been the shopkeeper’s daughter. She did not wait for Jenny’s reply but lifted down a glazed pair of leather trousers.
The shopkeeper muttered something Jenny did not understand and the assistant swapped them for a pair without back pockets. She held them by the waist and turned them back and forth so Jenny could see how smooth the line was. She walked over to hold them against Jenny’s waist. Jenny glanced down imagining her legs covered in the shiny leather.
Jenny felt she had to say something. “Do you have these, but a little tighter?”
“Ah, you want skin-tight, yes, we have them in the glazed.” The assistant nodded her understanding and lifted down a slimmer pair.
“I’ll try them on.”
The assistant pulled aside the curtain to the small changing cubicle and hung the trousers from the hook inside. Jenny hurried in. She hurried to take off her faded jeans. Then she took the trousers almost quivering. As she put one foot and then the other into the trouser legs she worried they would be too small, but as the leather slid up her calves, past her knees and over her thighs it seemed to shape to her. The steel buttons drew the trousers tight around her. Jenny stepped from the cubicle feeling excited. She could not take her fingers off the smooth leather but kept stroking it. She crossed to the mirror oblivious of the others. It was if the skin of her legs had become glossy black. She looked at how the leather rippled as she moved but came back to its perfect smoothness reflecting the light. Jenny knew she had to have them. She again turned her back to the mirror. This was the image she had seen of Lucy. Now she could see herself walking away from the bar like that, she was the sexy one.
“How about boots?” Jenny looked down. The court shoes she wore looked wrong with the trousers.
The shopkeeper smiled broadly and walked to the other end of the shop, indicating the range they had from heavy clompy boots for goths to thigh-length PVC ones.
“No ankle boots, I have some of them. Something a bit longer, something with a heel.”
The shopkeeper returned with a couple of pairs. Jenny sat down and tried them. At first rising from the floor as she wore them felt strange, but soon it was less of a novelty. Jenny tugged up the third pair of boots and rose on the heels. She was getting used to the extra inches. These stopped at the knee. She walked to the mirror and stood, twisting them back and forth to catch the light. She walked back over to the bench. The assistant was setting down a new longer box on the floor.
“I think these are what you are looking for. We are selling more of them than ever. Customers like the length.”
Jenny watched as the woman took the black shiny leather boots from the box. She was already shedding the others. She had seen some this long appearing even in high street stores, but they were still not very common. She pulled one then the other on. They slid smoothly over her leather trousers. The were the perfect size and widened as they stretched beyond the knee. Her thighs, with the smooth leather drawn tight over them, were still visible but the rest of her legs were encased in the boots. She strode to the mirror, feeling that in these she could do anything.
Jenny glanced back at the assistant. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll take these.”
The assistant gestured to his daughter and handed something else to her. Jenny was curious what it was.
“How about a bustiere to finish off the look?” The woman suggested. She held a broad band of black leather.
Jenny felt a thrill run through her as she saw it. The idea of the leather caressing her breasts as it already hugged her bum excited her. The shopkeeper had read her precisely, he knew she was changing before his eyes.
Jenny took the bustiere between her fingers and felt the smooth leather. The assistant let it slide into Jenny’s hands and then pulled back the curtain of the small changing cubicle then closed it behind her. Jenny was breathless as she slipped off the jacket. She hung it quickly on the hook, knowing she would soon be putting it back on. Her fingers struggled to unbutton her plain blouse fast enough. Then it was off, followed quickly by her bra. Jenny glanced for an instant at herself, naked to the waist and leathered below. In the quiet of the shop she could hear every soft creak of her trousers and her boots as she moved. That thought excited Jenny - her tight leather trousers and her long leather boots. She wrapped the bustiere around her and zipped it up. Jenny gasped as the leather pulled tightly against her midriff and her breasts, pushing them up, proud in the shiny leather. The sensation was exhilarating. She grabbed for the leather jacket and pulled it up her bare arms into place.
Jenny emerged from the cubicle like a butterfly from a cocoon. The shopkeeper hurried to clip the sales tags from her clothes, he knew there was no way she could leave without buying them. Jenny stepped forward to the full-length mirror. She did not recognise the blonde leather-clad woman who stood before her. She turned to the side and ran her fingers over the shiny leather that coated her thighs. Her backside was a smooth hemisphere, pert and counterbalanced by the orbs of her breasts. Every tiny movement, every breath she took created small ripples, and the comforting sound of the leather she wore.
Jenny collected her small handbag and slung it over shoulder. She realised how many leather items she had had without realising, this bag, her gloves, now all seemed part of the whole. She handed over her credit card to the shopkeeper. As he handed back the receipt Jenny shuddered as she realised the clothes were no longer things she was trying on in the shop, they were her own. The assistant gave her a carrier bag with her old clothes neatly folded inside. They now seemed so mundane, part of Jenny’s former life.
“See you again.” The shopkeeper called as Jenny walked to the stairs.
“No doubt.” She glanced back with a smile and strode briskly up the stairs towards the street.
Jenny stepped out on the pavement and for an instant she felt she had just woken from a dream. She took a few paces to get out of the way of the press of shoppers. She retrieved her gloves from her handbag and slipped them on. She then walked away, feeling flushed all over, nervous and self-conscious of how she looked to others. She was aware of how differently the clothes she now wore made her move. The heels of her boots made her walk with a strut, and she felt her bum swaying sexily with every step. Part of her wanted to slip into some department store and change back into her old clothes, but she told herself she had come this far, she had made a real change. She somehow felt protected, the leather was not like feeble cotton or wool, it shaped to her, it would not tear or get wet. As she felt it shielding her, holding her whole body in comfort, her confidence grew. Jenny lifted her head and walked with assurance. She would see women dressed in leathers, not a totally rare sight in London, and would smile as if they were part of the same secret club. She smiled too as she knew that if Paul saw her now he would not be able to take his eyes off her.
Jenny stopped for a moment wondering what to do next. She realised she had been walking aimlessly along the street. She felt she had to explore her new existence a little more. It was fine to strut around in public, but how would people respond to her one-to-one. She glanced down the side roads off the busy street. She was looking for a bar, something quiet but trendy. Jenny would never have gone for a drink at this time of day, but that was the old her. She caught sight of a bar that described itself as a ‘rendezvous bar’. She laughed to herself that a rendezvous was what she was looking for. A good encounter dressed like this would confirm to her she had made the right decision. She turned down the road. Before she did she shoved the carrier bag into a waste bin. She wanted to be seen as a woman who always dressed like this, not some housewife out for a treat. Jenny walked to the bar, delighting how the sound of her heels clicking could be heard in the quieter street. She glanced in through the window and her mind flashed back to the Saturday before. She felt a little contemptuous of that timid Jenny standing outside the bar in town. The place looked decent, comfortable fittings and a mixture of customers, business types and smart shoppers, no sleazy looking nerds.
Minutes later Jenny was carrying her glass of wine over to the stripped pine table. She eased into the deep brown leather sofa. She could see herself reflected faintly in the glass. She turned her chest back and forth to see how the light caught the line of her breasts. She had tucked her gloves into her jacket pocket and gently stroked her fingers up and down the smooth leather of her thighs. She felt strong and confident.
“Hello, could I sit here?”
Jenny looked up suddenly, startled by the man’s voice. She tried to speak, but coughed. “Erm, yes, yes, be my guest.”
As he put the glass on the table and lowered himself into the armchair beside it, Jenny ran her eyes over him. She guessed he was around thirty. He had long fairish hair held back at the nape of his neck. He wore a long loose black leather jacket and matching leather jeans. The large white shirt suggested to Jenny that he was an artist. She felt excited, sure that he had been attracted to talk to her by the leather she wore. For the first time she realised that seeing her dressed this way people would make assumptions about what sort of woman she was. She knew from seeing Lucy that she would give out the air of someone confident and sophisticated, she had to avoid ruining the image.
“Are you waiting for someone?” He asked.
“No-one in particular.” Jenny liked how that sounded, she was enjoying this role.
“Been shopping?”
“Just looking.” She smiled, trying to make it sound flirtatious.
Jenny looked him over again. He seemed less confident than when he had come across. Now she worried she was too much for him, but she was determined not to let him go. She ran her eyes over him, wondering what it would be like to caress and kiss him dressed as they were, their leather stroking across each other’s.
“You can call me Tamzin.” Jenny said. She did not look like Jenny, she certainly was not going to behave like Jenny.
“My friends call me Mac.”
Jenny reached forward to shake his hand, with mock formality, she was keen to get a little closer, clean to initiate some contact.
“Mac.” She repeated the name and sipped at her drink. “And what do you do?”
“Computers, music.”
“Which, computers or music?”
“Both. I remix and edit. The main office is round here. I just delivered them the finished session for today.”
“Sounds interesting. You’ve got the rest of the day off?”
Mac nodded. “Sure.” He seemed more at ease. Jenny moved a few inches closer. “How about you Tamzin? What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“Getting to know you better.” Jenny giggled. She was finding it hard to hold back from grabbing this man and running her hands over his leathered body. She felt she had to resist, not to do what her body was hungry to do. Yet, deep within her she felt she could not miss the opportunity. He would expect it from a woman who looked the way she did. She did not appear some timid mousy woman, she appeared one with confidence, confidence to dress the way she wanted, to be so obviously sexy.
“So what do you do for fun?”
Jenny felt she was winning. He was interested, he was relaxing, he was interested in Tamzin, in herself. Jenny’s body felt empowered, she felt strong, she realised she felt happy.
“I write.” It was the truth. “A novel.”
“Oh, I like writing too,” Mac said as he leant forward. His lips were only a couple of inches from her skin. His voice fell into seductive soft tones, “erotic verse on my lovers’ bodies.” He whispered into Jenny’s ear.
Jenny felt more confident, somehow her leather gave her that. She felt if she stood and wrapped herself around Mac their clothes would merge bringing them impossibly close together. The schoolgirl giggle had gone. Boldly Jenny fixed her eyes on Mac’s and ran her tongue slowly across her glossed lips as if she were a cat licking cream.
“Here, these are some samples.” Mac leant back and pulled a small leather bound notebook from inside his jacket. As Jenny took it could feel the heat of his body still coming from the leather of the book. She flicked through the poems, they were short but intense. She tingled first at what the words said, then at imagining them being delicately written across her body.
Mac moved on to the sofa beside her, the leather of their thighs touching.. His hand cupped hers that held the book. The other rested on her leathered thigh. Jenny took it and gently guided it across the smooth surface, her skin tingling with the gentle pressure reminding her how she was dressed. Then their mouths came together. Jenny shuddered as if current had run through her. She could smell Mac, smell her leather, smell his, all mingling in her nostrils. She gasped a breath and then locked again, feeling his hands cup her smooth backside as she clutched at his back.
Mac sat back, unable to stop grinning. “You’re not a woman to beat around the bush.”
Jenny smiled. “No, when I see something that looks tasty, I like to taste.” In the back of her mind a voice was asking what she thought she was doing, but the rest of her knew precisely. She ran her finger along her lip, then sipped more of her drink.
“Would you like an early dinner?” Mac asked, still sitting close to her.
“Certainly, I’ve nothing planned.” She stood, delighting in her body as she rose on the heels.
Mac scrambled to his feet. He hurried to open the door for her and they stepped out on to the street. “My car’s parked just down there.” He gestured to the blue sports car.
“I thought you’d have a motorbike.”
“I do, for weekends, but you’d have to get a different set of leathers to ride that.”
“I look forward to selecting them. For now I assume these’ll do for riding you.”
Mac answered with a kiss. “You are sinful.”
Jenny just laughed. Mac opened the car door and Jenny got in, her leathers slid easily across the seat. In moments Mac was beside her. He reached over to strap the seatbelt across her. Jenny wriggled with pleasure as his head rested on her breasts for an instant. As he sat in his own seat with his hand stroking her thigh Jenny glowed inside, knowing he could not keep his hands off her.
“You keep your hands on the gear stick.” Jenny said as she reached over and began stroking the leather that covered his thigh.
“Where to?”
“Brighton.” Jenny replied.
As the car started Jenny was tempted to look back, but knew it was not worth the effort. She looked over at Mac and then at the road ahead.
New leathers, new lovers
“Jenny, it’s over.” Paul said, now sounding irritated.
“What? Where did this come from?”
“You must have noticed things between us have changed.”
Jenny shook her head indignantly.
“That’s the problem you see nothing beyond your own concerns. You don’t see what I need.”
“What do you need? We have good times.”
“What do you mean? We hardly talk, you’re always typing away on that computer every chance you get. We’re not close any more.”
“What’s this about? Sex?”
Paul hesitated. “To some extent, yes.”
Jenny looked away, gazing carelessly at a magazine on the table. She did not know what to say.
“When we first met you looked good, you dressed sexily, you had an energy. Now that’s gone.”
“Things are tiring, life is tiring, work...”
“Yes, the job, the course, the novel. Am I fourth or fifth on that list? Look what it has done to you. Have you looked in the mirror recently? Look at what you’re wearing.”
Jenny looked down at herself. From the rather battered slippers passed the long loose brown skirt to the baggy sweater she had had for years. They were comfortable, they were what she wore.
“It is a Saturday night and you look ready to slump down with a cup of cocoa.”
Jenny looked over at Paul. He did look ready to go out to a night club, a trendy short sleeved shirt, the shiny dark grey trousers, the chunky shoes, his hair combed up. She was the younger of the two by a couple of years, but even she had to admit it did look like an aunt and her nephew arguing.
“I’m going out. There’s nothing more to say now. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” Paul walked into the hall and picked up the new long leather jacket he had bought. He glanced back at Jenny as if her some chance.
“There’s someone else isn’t there?” Jenny snapped at him. His changed manner, the new jacket had told her.
Paul glanced back but said nothing. He went out through the front door. The fact he did not slam it irritated Jenny, as if he was no longer interested in wasting his anger on her.
Jenny was beginning to wonder why she had come into town. Part of her thought it was better than sitting at home wallowing in self-pity or getting too drunk. Part of her knew it was because she wanted to see who Paul was with. If he was with John or Andy or any of the other mates he had, she could go home happy. She walked through the shopping centre gazing from the gloomy street lit by orange lights into the brightly lit pubs and bars. They were busy but she was certain she would be able to see him. She heard the sound of girls giggling behind her. She stepped aside imagining them to be teenagers. The group of four walked passed her, dressed in bright foil dresses and long boots. As they did she could see they were not teenagers, they were her age, late twenties. Among them she saw Karen who Jenny knew from the college and she must be five years older than that. She watched them as they hurried up the street laughing and joking, throwing out saucy comments to a group of lads on the other side of the road. They were having fun, they were enjoying their bodies, not trying to be stick-thin supermodels, but proud in what they had.
Jenny stopped in front of a bar, one she and Paul had used to go to. The interior had been changed, but as she looked in she still recognised a couple of the staff behind the bar. Then she saw him. A feeling ran through Jenny as if she had been punched in the stomach. Paul was there with Andy and Gill, his girlfriend. He was standing holding a bottle of beer in one hand, laughing. It was only as she looked harder that she saw Paul’s arm was wrapped around a woman. Jenny pressed closer to the window taking in all the details. She had expected some blonde bimbo ten years younger than herself but this woman was her own age. Her hair was a very dark brown, stretching beyond her shoulders. Not too different to Jenny’s, but it looked fine and smooth, well tended not a mass of knots like her own generally was after a night of re-working the latest chapter. Her face was made up, not tarty but sophisticated. She probably looked as blotchy as Jenny in the mornings, but this was not a cold morning, it was an evening out and her look fitted.
The woman wore a tight silk blouse. Her breasts were average but were enhanced by the silk which clung to them and the bra she wore below. From the glances Jenny caught between the blouse’s buttons she at first thought it was silk, but then realised it was leather. It must be the softest leather ever. Jenny had no doubt the women had leather knickers to match. Paul’s hand was cupped around her bum which wore tight shiny leather trousers. The way they rippled as the woman moved showed they were real leather, not some fake plastic. She looked both comfortable and yet sexy. Jenny had never really thought the two went together, but this evening she could see a woman who had combined them successfully.
Jenny did not know what to do now. She felt drained. She had found the answer that she had expected. She felt some kind of relief but this was edged with anger at Paul, that he could not admit there was this other woman. Something told Jenny to storm into the bar, to slap him across the face and pour his beer all over him, but that was juvenile, she would come off looking worse. It would be better to go in calmly, as if she had just stumbled across him on her way home, then embarrass him in front of his friends, in front of the whole bar. She turned back to look at him again. The woman’s hand was stroking up his back, smoothing the leather of his new jacket. He responded and turned to kiss her, a long lingering kiss. They were the lovers, not herself and Paul, they had never looked like that in public, she had always been too self-conscious. This woman was unashamed, proud to be with Paul, Jenny knew she would not succeed in embarrassing her. She told herself it was best to go home.
Jenny looked through the window for the last time, now feeling bemused by it all. Then she saw that Paul and the others with him had gone. Urgently she looked up and down the inside but could not see them in the crowd. She could not let them run into her out here. Andy and Gill knew her well and for them to see her would be too much, but to meet Paul with his new woman would be total humiliation. Jenny turned to walk away up the street. Then Andy and Gill came out of through the door. Paul followed on after them. Jenny shrunk into the shadows, praying she would not be seen, but unable to look away. Paul hesitated at the door. “Lucy, you’re coming?” He asked.
Jenny heard the voice before Lucy stepped through the door into the street light.
“I was just getting my jacket.”
Lucy came on to the pavement. She was easing on a cropped black leather jacket as she did. It matched her tight trousers in its shine. Paul wrapped his arm around her, hugging her shiny smooth bum as they carried on up the street. The high-heels of Lucy’s ankle boots clicked as she walked away. Jenny stood transfixed. The woman was at once so confident and so sexy. The light caught the shiny leather as she walked. It rippled and caressed her with every step.
Jenny was flushed, somehow embarrassed seeing the woman. She felt inadequate, knowing she did not have a fraction of Lucy’s attitude, not an ounce of her sexiness. Then she felt a jealousy, a hunger, wishing it was her strutting away instead of Lucy. To be dressed like that and embraced by Paul, the thought made her tingle. Nervously she followed, somehow feeling that if she stayed in sight some of the magic would rub off on herself. In moments the couple had crossed the road. They were heading towards a new night club. Jenny followed and joined the queue three or four people back. She just caught glimpses of Lucy, laughing, whispering in Paul’s ear, no doubt about her plans for him later.
Then they were gone from sight, passed through into the nightclub. Jenny was nervous, she was uncertain what she would do. The idea that she should confront Paul returned. She would tell him that she could be everything that Lucy was if he came back to her.
“Sorry love, I can’t let you in.” The bouncer’s words snapped Jenny out of her thoughts.
“What?”
“I can’t let you in.” The bouncer was firm but patient. He nodded to another couple of women who stepped past him. He moved to the side guiding Jenny away from the queue.
“Why? I’ve got the money.”
“That’s not the problem. You’re not dressed right.” He nodded to the women just going in with their spangly string-strap tops and tight jeans. “You have to be wearing something at least like that.”
Jenny did not argue, she knew it was true. “Okay.” She spoke quietly, but the bouncer had already turned his attention to the next clutch of customers. The excitement of seeing Paul and Lucy had faded. They were out of her sight and she could not conjure up any images of what they were doing. Suddenly she felt very tired and foolish standing on the street with all these people around. Slowly she began retracing her steps home.
Jenny walked slowly up the road back home from the station. Her boss was a sympathetic soul and had given her the afternoon off, even encouraged her to book a beauty session in town. Her argument was retail therapy worked every time and a session with a beautician could make a new woman of you. It had been days since Jenny had seen Paul, though from the fact his clothes and other items had gone from the house she guessed he had been back when she was at work. Jenny thought him a coward. What she wanted was not retail therapy but the final argument, to drag the answers out of him, to find out where Lucy had come from and to insult and condemn her.
As Jenny turned into her road she froze. There was a car outside her house. Then Paul emerged carrying a box. Without thinking, Jenny began walking faster, looking intently, making sure it was indeed Paul. As she got closer she noticed what he wore, his new leather jacket was now matched by baggy leather trousers, no doubt Lucy’s influence. Then the woman herself emerged. She had some kind of holdall. She was dressed from head to toe in burgundy, burgundy leather at that - a long length jacket, looser trousers than the night in the bar but ones that still showed her shapely body and kitten-heeled boots to match. As they set what they were carrying down by the car, the couple stopped to kiss. Lucy pulled him close locking him in place with her thigh wrapped around his bum.
“Paul!” Jenny said with force, but not shouting. She cleared the short distance to him in moments.
“Jenny.” He seemed really surprised. “I thought you’d be at work.” Paul’s arm stayed around Lucy’s back, holding her close as if to defend her.
“No.” Jenny said. Now the initial assault was over she did not know what to say. She glanced over to Lucy. She noticed that beneath the jacket she wore just a black leather waistcoat, and nothing below.
“You’d like that, Paul,” Jenny said accusingly, “just a row of popper buttons and you can be touching her skin.”
“Yes, I like that, I like it a lot. Lucy does too.”
Lucy said nothing but slowly nodded.
“Lucy and I are lovers, how we dress, how we respond to each other is part of that.” Paul continued. “When I tried to come close to you, I did not see a woman even aware of being a sexual creature. I faced having to grapple through the shelves of the local charity shop to reach you, uncertain what I would find beneath it all. With Lucy I see a woman who is confident, proud of her sex, pleased to be with me. Even you can see that.”
Jenny was speechless. She looked down at her work clothes, dated but smart. She was angry that she had nothing to dispute Paul’s argument.
“Jenny,” Paul’s voice was softer now, “I was not going to try to intrude if you wanted to shut me out. You were telling me we were no longer close by throwing yourself into your work. It took Lucy to show me the signals I had been missing.”
Jenny was tired. She turned into her pathway. “Okay.” She said softly. She turned back at the door and watched for a few moments as the couple loaded the car. Even as Lucy did something as mundane as put a box into the boot, she gave off her signals, Jenny watched the leather of her trousers tighten as she bent and release as she stood. In moments she was in a car and moments later than that Paul and her were gone.
Jenny glanced at her watch, she had to hurry if she was going to get to town inside. She threw aside all the thoughts that had been running through her mind and concentrated on a quick lunch and changing to go out.
“There you are madam.”
Jenny looked down at the neatly manicured nails, now painted silver. She had to admit they did look good. She glanced into the mirror at the make-up on her face. She looked serious, but more energised. She ran her tongue along her shiny dark red lips, blew herself a kiss and laughed. Her boss would be pleased, if no-one else. Then she told herself that was being too hard. She was actually enjoying the pampering, it had been what she needed. With all the herbal tea and kind words from the beauticians, however false, she did feel comforted and all thought of Paul had gone from her mind. She began thinking instead of buying some clothes or going for afternoon tea.
“The final touch.” The hairdresser said proudly. Jenny again tried to place her accent, uncertain whether she was Dutch or Scandinavian.
The covers came off to reveal Jenny’s new hairstyle. She almost jerked back with surprise. She knew it would be shorter by far than she had had it, but what surprised her was rather than the auburn colouring she had expected, it was a rich blonde.
“That’s the E3 colour?” Jenny asked slowly, remembering back to the chart of colours she had perused when she came in.
“Yes, A3, as you asked. Doesn’t it look great, very strong and dynamic.”
“Yes, it’s great.” Jenny turned her head a little. The colour accentuated the short length. The boss would be surprised when Jenny arrived looking like a power-dressing film exec.
“Lovely, I like the effect.” Jenny said, not wanting to hurt the woman’s feelings. The hairdresser brightened with the positive comments. Jenny kept looking. Well, if this was the post-Paul Jenny, this was her. She paid and tucked her clutch of products into her black leather handbag, the one she had not used for ages.
Jenny left the salon. She wandered through the department store in a bit of a daze, surprised every time she caught sight of herself in a mirror. She did not recognise the blonde, short-haired woman with the smooth make-up. She drifted aimlessly through the clothing sections, with half a mind to buy an outfit to go with the new haircut. That made her brighten a bit. No-one was paying attention to her, she did not stick out the way she had feared. She had no idea what she wanted, but everything looked too suited to teenagers or grannies. As Jenny lifted a few things from the hangers she again felt people were looking her, mentally telling her she was unsuited for what she had picked. She put the stuff back, she was not going to find anything in a busy place like this. Jenny walked out of the shop into the street letting herself go with the flow of the crowd. She thought about what Paul had said and began thinking about what he would like her to wear. She agreed she had probably not cared as much as she had, and just tossed on what was comfortable with little thought for her appearance or what made her feel good to wear. How Lucy dressed was no doubt how he would like to have seen her.
Lucy! Suddenly through the crowd Jenny was sure she had seen her. The burgundy leather was distinctive enough and the woman she saw had the same long dark hair. Jenny hurried to catch up, not certain what she do if she found her. Jenny dodged through the crowd on the pavement, it seemed to be getting busier. Lucy was still in sight waiting to go over at the next crossing. Jenny could gain on her. Then instead of crossing there Lucy turned right and went over the main road as the green man on that crossing appeared. Jenny slipped between the shoppers, trying not to knock into anyone as she did. Somehow Lucy seemed to have got ahead again. Then Jenny just caught a glance as she turned into a shop. In moments Jenny was there. Like many of the shops in the area it was on two levels. Upstairs sold jeans and teeshirts, then at the head of the stairs to the basement level stood two mannequins dressed in long leather jackets.
There was no sign of Lucy upstairs so Jenny headed to the staircase. As she walked down the steps she left the noise of the street behind. Below was an Aladdin’s cave. It was a large space with leather jackets and trousers at one end, a wide assortment of boots at the other and odd items of clubbing gear between. The air was heavy with the drowsy scent of leather. Jenny reached the foot of the staircase and looked around, there was no sign of Lucy. She began to turn to leave.
“Can I help? Are you looking for something special?”
Jenny turned back to see a small Asian man appearing from a stock room. She felt embarrassed, but warmed to the man’s tone. Here with no other customers she felt there was no rush.
“Erm, er, yes.” She said walking into the centre of the shop. “A jacket.”
“Yes, good. We have a whole range, the best prices. Three-quarter length?” The man asked with the experience of years in the trade. He crossed to the hangers between the full-length ladies coats and the shorter jackets.
Seeing the black leather the image of Lucy coming out of the bar with Paul flashed into her mind. “No, something shorter. Erm, cropped, what’s that style?”
“Ah, yes, a bolero jacket.” The shopkeeper moved along to the shorter jackets and pulled down one in black leather.
“Yes, that’s it.” Jenny replied, forgetting this was some sort of pretence. “A bolero, but a bit shinier.” It did not quite match the image in her mind.
“Ah, you want glazed leather. Very popular.” The man lifted down a similar jacket, but the shine on it was what Jenny had had in her mind’s eye.
“That’s it, great.”
The shopkeeper walked over with the jacket draped across his hands so she could see it. He hesitated and Jenny realised he was waiting for her to try it on. Quickly she pulled off her wool jacket and laid it on the padded bench. The man walked around her as she slid her arms into the jacket. In moments it was on her. It felt comfortable and looked good. She walked to the mirror admiring it. It made her look more alive. She twisted round so she could see the back. She ran her hands over the seat of her jeans, still visible below the short length of the jacket.
“You’d like some matching trousers?” It was a woman’s voice. Jenny looked round to see her coming from the storeroom. The assistant could have been the shopkeeper’s daughter. She did not wait for Jenny’s reply but lifted down a glazed pair of leather trousers.
The shopkeeper muttered something Jenny did not understand and the assistant swapped them for a pair without back pockets. She held them by the waist and turned them back and forth so Jenny could see how smooth the line was. She walked over to hold them against Jenny’s waist. Jenny glanced down imagining her legs covered in the shiny leather.
Jenny felt she had to say something. “Do you have these, but a little tighter?”
“Ah, you want skin-tight, yes, we have them in the glazed.” The assistant nodded her understanding and lifted down a slimmer pair.
“I’ll try them on.”
The assistant pulled aside the curtain to the small changing cubicle and hung the trousers from the hook inside. Jenny hurried in. She hurried to take off her faded jeans. Then she took the trousers almost quivering. As she put one foot and then the other into the trouser legs she worried they would be too small, but as the leather slid up her calves, past her knees and over her thighs it seemed to shape to her. The steel buttons drew the trousers tight around her. Jenny stepped from the cubicle feeling excited. She could not take her fingers off the smooth leather but kept stroking it. She crossed to the mirror oblivious of the others. It was if the skin of her legs had become glossy black. She looked at how the leather rippled as she moved but came back to its perfect smoothness reflecting the light. Jenny knew she had to have them. She again turned her back to the mirror. This was the image she had seen of Lucy. Now she could see herself walking away from the bar like that, she was the sexy one.
“How about boots?” Jenny looked down. The court shoes she wore looked wrong with the trousers.
The shopkeeper smiled broadly and walked to the other end of the shop, indicating the range they had from heavy clompy boots for goths to thigh-length PVC ones.
“No ankle boots, I have some of them. Something a bit longer, something with a heel.”
The shopkeeper returned with a couple of pairs. Jenny sat down and tried them. At first rising from the floor as she wore them felt strange, but soon it was less of a novelty. Jenny tugged up the third pair of boots and rose on the heels. She was getting used to the extra inches. These stopped at the knee. She walked to the mirror and stood, twisting them back and forth to catch the light. She walked back over to the bench. The assistant was setting down a new longer box on the floor.
“I think these are what you are looking for. We are selling more of them than ever. Customers like the length.”
Jenny watched as the woman took the black shiny leather boots from the box. She was already shedding the others. She had seen some this long appearing even in high street stores, but they were still not very common. She pulled one then the other on. They slid smoothly over her leather trousers. The were the perfect size and widened as they stretched beyond the knee. Her thighs, with the smooth leather drawn tight over them, were still visible but the rest of her legs were encased in the boots. She strode to the mirror, feeling that in these she could do anything.
Jenny glanced back at the assistant. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll take these.”
The assistant gestured to his daughter and handed something else to her. Jenny was curious what it was.
“How about a bustiere to finish off the look?” The woman suggested. She held a broad band of black leather.
Jenny felt a thrill run through her as she saw it. The idea of the leather caressing her breasts as it already hugged her bum excited her. The shopkeeper had read her precisely, he knew she was changing before his eyes.
Jenny took the bustiere between her fingers and felt the smooth leather. The assistant let it slide into Jenny’s hands and then pulled back the curtain of the small changing cubicle then closed it behind her. Jenny was breathless as she slipped off the jacket. She hung it quickly on the hook, knowing she would soon be putting it back on. Her fingers struggled to unbutton her plain blouse fast enough. Then it was off, followed quickly by her bra. Jenny glanced for an instant at herself, naked to the waist and leathered below. In the quiet of the shop she could hear every soft creak of her trousers and her boots as she moved. That thought excited Jenny - her tight leather trousers and her long leather boots. She wrapped the bustiere around her and zipped it up. Jenny gasped as the leather pulled tightly against her midriff and her breasts, pushing them up, proud in the shiny leather. The sensation was exhilarating. She grabbed for the leather jacket and pulled it up her bare arms into place.
Jenny emerged from the cubicle like a butterfly from a cocoon. The shopkeeper hurried to clip the sales tags from her clothes, he knew there was no way she could leave without buying them. Jenny stepped forward to the full-length mirror. She did not recognise the blonde leather-clad woman who stood before her. She turned to the side and ran her fingers over the shiny leather that coated her thighs. Her backside was a smooth hemisphere, pert and counterbalanced by the orbs of her breasts. Every tiny movement, every breath she took created small ripples, and the comforting sound of the leather she wore.
Jenny collected her small handbag and slung it over shoulder. She realised how many leather items she had had without realising, this bag, her gloves, now all seemed part of the whole. She handed over her credit card to the shopkeeper. As he handed back the receipt Jenny shuddered as she realised the clothes were no longer things she was trying on in the shop, they were her own. The assistant gave her a carrier bag with her old clothes neatly folded inside. They now seemed so mundane, part of Jenny’s former life.
“See you again.” The shopkeeper called as Jenny walked to the stairs.
“No doubt.” She glanced back with a smile and strode briskly up the stairs towards the street.
Jenny stepped out on the pavement and for an instant she felt she had just woken from a dream. She took a few paces to get out of the way of the press of shoppers. She retrieved her gloves from her handbag and slipped them on. She then walked away, feeling flushed all over, nervous and self-conscious of how she looked to others. She was aware of how differently the clothes she now wore made her move. The heels of her boots made her walk with a strut, and she felt her bum swaying sexily with every step. Part of her wanted to slip into some department store and change back into her old clothes, but she told herself she had come this far, she had made a real change. She somehow felt protected, the leather was not like feeble cotton or wool, it shaped to her, it would not tear or get wet. As she felt it shielding her, holding her whole body in comfort, her confidence grew. Jenny lifted her head and walked with assurance. She would see women dressed in leathers, not a totally rare sight in London, and would smile as if they were part of the same secret club. She smiled too as she knew that if Paul saw her now he would not be able to take his eyes off her.
Jenny stopped for a moment wondering what to do next. She realised she had been walking aimlessly along the street. She felt she had to explore her new existence a little more. It was fine to strut around in public, but how would people respond to her one-to-one. She glanced down the side roads off the busy street. She was looking for a bar, something quiet but trendy. Jenny would never have gone for a drink at this time of day, but that was the old her. She caught sight of a bar that described itself as a ‘rendezvous bar’. She laughed to herself that a rendezvous was what she was looking for. A good encounter dressed like this would confirm to her she had made the right decision. She turned down the road. Before she did she shoved the carrier bag into a waste bin. She wanted to be seen as a woman who always dressed like this, not some housewife out for a treat. Jenny walked to the bar, delighting how the sound of her heels clicking could be heard in the quieter street. She glanced in through the window and her mind flashed back to the Saturday before. She felt a little contemptuous of that timid Jenny standing outside the bar in town. The place looked decent, comfortable fittings and a mixture of customers, business types and smart shoppers, no sleazy looking nerds.
Minutes later Jenny was carrying her glass of wine over to the stripped pine table. She eased into the deep brown leather sofa. She could see herself reflected faintly in the glass. She turned her chest back and forth to see how the light caught the line of her breasts. She had tucked her gloves into her jacket pocket and gently stroked her fingers up and down the smooth leather of her thighs. She felt strong and confident.
“Hello, could I sit here?”
Jenny looked up suddenly, startled by the man’s voice. She tried to speak, but coughed. “Erm, yes, yes, be my guest.”
As he put the glass on the table and lowered himself into the armchair beside it, Jenny ran her eyes over him. She guessed he was around thirty. He had long fairish hair held back at the nape of his neck. He wore a long loose black leather jacket and matching leather jeans. The large white shirt suggested to Jenny that he was an artist. She felt excited, sure that he had been attracted to talk to her by the leather she wore. For the first time she realised that seeing her dressed this way people would make assumptions about what sort of woman she was. She knew from seeing Lucy that she would give out the air of someone confident and sophisticated, she had to avoid ruining the image.
“Are you waiting for someone?” He asked.
“No-one in particular.” Jenny liked how that sounded, she was enjoying this role.
“Been shopping?”
“Just looking.” She smiled, trying to make it sound flirtatious.
Jenny looked him over again. He seemed less confident than when he had come across. Now she worried she was too much for him, but she was determined not to let him go. She ran her eyes over him, wondering what it would be like to caress and kiss him dressed as they were, their leather stroking across each other’s.
“You can call me Tamzin.” Jenny said. She did not look like Jenny, she certainly was not going to behave like Jenny.
“My friends call me Mac.”
Jenny reached forward to shake his hand, with mock formality, she was keen to get a little closer, clean to initiate some contact.
“Mac.” She repeated the name and sipped at her drink. “And what do you do?”
“Computers, music.”
“Which, computers or music?”
“Both. I remix and edit. The main office is round here. I just delivered them the finished session for today.”
“Sounds interesting. You’ve got the rest of the day off?”
Mac nodded. “Sure.” He seemed more at ease. Jenny moved a few inches closer. “How about you Tamzin? What are you doing for the rest of the day?”
“Getting to know you better.” Jenny giggled. She was finding it hard to hold back from grabbing this man and running her hands over his leathered body. She felt she had to resist, not to do what her body was hungry to do. Yet, deep within her she felt she could not miss the opportunity. He would expect it from a woman who looked the way she did. She did not appear some timid mousy woman, she appeared one with confidence, confidence to dress the way she wanted, to be so obviously sexy.
“So what do you do for fun?”
Jenny felt she was winning. He was interested, he was relaxing, he was interested in Tamzin, in herself. Jenny’s body felt empowered, she felt strong, she realised she felt happy.
“I write.” It was the truth. “A novel.”
“Oh, I like writing too,” Mac said as he leant forward. His lips were only a couple of inches from her skin. His voice fell into seductive soft tones, “erotic verse on my lovers’ bodies.” He whispered into Jenny’s ear.
Jenny felt more confident, somehow her leather gave her that. She felt if she stood and wrapped herself around Mac their clothes would merge bringing them impossibly close together. The schoolgirl giggle had gone. Boldly Jenny fixed her eyes on Mac’s and ran her tongue slowly across her glossed lips as if she were a cat licking cream.
“Here, these are some samples.” Mac leant back and pulled a small leather bound notebook from inside his jacket. As Jenny took it could feel the heat of his body still coming from the leather of the book. She flicked through the poems, they were short but intense. She tingled first at what the words said, then at imagining them being delicately written across her body.
Mac moved on to the sofa beside her, the leather of their thighs touching.. His hand cupped hers that held the book. The other rested on her leathered thigh. Jenny took it and gently guided it across the smooth surface, her skin tingling with the gentle pressure reminding her how she was dressed. Then their mouths came together. Jenny shuddered as if current had run through her. She could smell Mac, smell her leather, smell his, all mingling in her nostrils. She gasped a breath and then locked again, feeling his hands cup her smooth backside as she clutched at his back.
Mac sat back, unable to stop grinning. “You’re not a woman to beat around the bush.”
Jenny smiled. “No, when I see something that looks tasty, I like to taste.” In the back of her mind a voice was asking what she thought she was doing, but the rest of her knew precisely. She ran her finger along her lip, then sipped more of her drink.
“Would you like an early dinner?” Mac asked, still sitting close to her.
“Certainly, I’ve nothing planned.” She stood, delighting in her body as she rose on the heels.
Mac scrambled to his feet. He hurried to open the door for her and they stepped out on to the street. “My car’s parked just down there.” He gestured to the blue sports car.
“I thought you’d have a motorbike.”
“I do, for weekends, but you’d have to get a different set of leathers to ride that.”
“I look forward to selecting them. For now I assume these’ll do for riding you.”
Mac answered with a kiss. “You are sinful.”
Jenny just laughed. Mac opened the car door and Jenny got in, her leathers slid easily across the seat. In moments Mac was beside her. He reached over to strap the seatbelt across her. Jenny wriggled with pleasure as his head rested on her breasts for an instant. As he sat in his own seat with his hand stroking her thigh Jenny glowed inside, knowing he could not keep his hands off her.
“You keep your hands on the gear stick.” Jenny said as she reached over and began stroking the leather that covered his thigh.
“Where to?”
“Brighton.” Jenny replied.
As the car started Jenny was tempted to look back, but knew it was not worth the effort. She looked over at Mac and then at the road ahead.
Leather Story: Emergence
This story was in part inspired by Kate Gerbeau (when she was still Kate Sanderson) when she was appearing on the British consumer affairs programme, 'Watchdog' in the early 2000s and often appeared in leather clothing (as she also did all the time on 'Robot Wars'). She left 'Watchdog' and was replaced by Julia Bradbury in 2005. Bradbury does dress very sexily, but has tended not to wear leather, probably to make her distinct from Kate. The other impetus was people winning competitions in order to become presenters on programmes. So those two threads came together with me envisaging such a competition winner stepping into Kate's boots (and leather trousers!).
Emergence
Gemma Barclay worked in an insurance office, but whenever she could, she sent in articles to the town newspaper, and helped out a friend on a local radio station, always dreaming of breaking into television. Then, soon after her twenty-fifth birthday she won the first round of a competition for new talent. She went up to town for interviews and screen tests with the other finalists. Gemma had never expected to get that far, but soon found that her reasonable looks, her tidy appearance, her quick brain and the experience she had, were a winning combination. Barely five months after entering she was announced as one of the four winners who would have regular slots on a range of television programmes. Gemma was told she was going to be on 'Getting Value' a consumer affairs programme with young, dynamic presenters. She felt it was the ideal first rung of her career. It seemed like the break she had dreamt of had finally come.
Dressed in her smartest suit Gemma arrived at the television centre for her first proper day working for the company. She knew that they would not start shooting the programme until the following day. She met with Jo Standish, the producer, and Chris Patterson who oversaw all the consumer type programmes. They briefed her on all the topics her first programme would cover. She met the other two presenters, they seemed more down-to-earth than she had expected and that had relaxed her. With the introductions out of the way, she was sent to wardrobe, hairdressing and make-up. She accepted that these were all part of the business of television and headed off with good grace. Though she liked to make the most of her appearance Gemma was keen to progress in television through her abilities rather than any dolled-up looks. She went first to see what they wanted her to wear.
'Hello!' Gemma called as she walked through the door marked 'Wardrobe'. Inside, the room was packed with rails of clothes, there was the sound and the smell of a steam iron and occasionally the sight of a staff member hurrying back and forth with clothes over their arms. There was every kind of clothing, from medieval robes to the latest fashions, the full range necessary for the company's programmes.
Gemma walked up to the nearest woman. She was about Gemma's height, possibly ten years older. She wore a long loose black silk blouse and dark trousers with a brocade pattern on them. Her hair stretched a way down her back, held from her face by a tortoiseshell clip.
"I'm looking for Anna Booker."
"You've found her." The woman smiled.
"I'm Gemma Barclay."
"The new presenter on 'Getting Value', bang on time." Anna said warmly. "This shouldn't take long. I had all your measurements sent through, so this is just to see what you look like in it. Then you can pop back in tomorrow ahead of the shoot and get all kitted out without delay. Sound alright?"
"Sure." Gemma said, not a little curious about what she was going to be wearing but Anna seemed to know her job.
"I've assembled it all over here." Anna said. Gemma followed her to a corner of the room where only a few items hung on a rail.
Anna reached down a hanger. At first Gemma thought it was just a pair of black denim jeans and jacket, more casual than what she had expected to wear for her first time on television, but she was happy to do what Anna suggested. As Gemma stepped closer she realised that they were not denim at all, but leather. They still had the prominent yellow stitching of jeans but as Anna held them up Gemma could see that they were smooth, perfect black leather.
"I can't wear that." Gemma said, sounding startled.
"Why ever not?" Anna asked incredulously. "They're brand new, they look great. They told me your sizes." She nodded to a pair of matching boots resting on the floor close by.
"Do you think it really suits what I'll be doing? This is a consumer affairs programme."
"Yes." Anna said slowly. "You did notice what Alison Moore wore. You're stepping into her shoes, or should I say boots."
Gemma looked sheepish. She had only seen a few episodes of the programme, it was on Thursday nights when she played squash. Now she thought back she remembered the shiny leather trousers, the maroon leather skirt and knee-length boots, the brown cropped leather jacket, the red biker jacket, that Alison had worn on the odd programmes Gemma had seen. To be truthful, Gemma had never really looked at the fashions, her thoughts had been on the topics being discussed. She glanced up and saw a shot of Alison dressed in a long leather coat and her distinctive matching leather trousers amongst the stills Anna had across her wall.
"I thought that was her own stuff." Gemma replied.
"A lot of it was. Have you got something similar you want to bring in?"
"Erm, no, I thought I'd be wearing something like this." Gemma indicated the grey suit she wore.
Anna shook her head. "Haven't they briefed you on your role at all? Consumer programmes have a tough image these days. You must have seen them chasing down dodgy traders in the street. You need to stand out, look tough, but also stylish and knowledgeable. I thought this outfit would stamp your mark on the programme right from the start."
"Erm, right." Gemma realised there were so many aspects of this job she had not thought through. "I don't think I would feel comfortable dressed from head to foot in leather, it would make me too self-conscious."
"Well, we're at a bit of an impasse then. I know Jo Standish has worked out the look of the show with Chris Patterson. I'm just going along with what they asked for wardrobe. You'll have to talk to them, if you want to change it."
Anna went and hung up the leathers on a rail and tucked the boots beneath them. She looked a bit disappointed. She disappeared behind a hanger. Gemma stood feeling embarrassed, not knowing what to do. She realised that her assumptions about the job had left many areas out, especially about how she was to appear to the public.
"Well, what are you doing standing there? You're supposed to be having your hair done after seeing me."
"Oh right." Gemma replied, but did not move.
"You're having second thoughts aren't you? Maybe you're not cut out for television." Anna said more sympathetically.
"It's just I had an image of how I would come across and it seems that everyone here has other ideas."
Anna laughed. "We all bow down to the demands of the viewer. I think you'd look great in these." She walked back to the leathers. "Otherwise I wouldn't have picked them out for you."
Gemma felt guilty for disappointing Anna.
"The programme's not until tomorrow. If you want time to get accustomed to something that you don't feel is you, I can let you have it all over night. Walk around in them, go out in them, you'll soon feel as if they're just your second skin."
Gemma looked pensive.
"Think about it while you're having your hair done."
"No, it's got to be now or never." Gemma walked briskly to the changing cubicle.
Anna smiled broadly as Gemma quickly stripped off her grey suit and plain blouse. In moments she was in her underwear.
"Well, before I can think about what you're wearing on top, we have to sort out the underwear."
In minutes Gemma's plain white underwear was replaced by items in midnight blue silk. The sensation made her tingle.
"Put this on first."
Anna handed her a soft black short-sleeved top scooped down to the top of her breasts, now lifted by a proper fitting bra. She eased on the top and it clung to her. She felt safe in it as it held her snugly. Her breasts seemed to have grown another cup size, but she had not time to worry about that as Anna was handing her the leather jeans. Gemma hesitated, feeling the smooth soft leather in her hands before she eased one leg then the other into the jeans.
As she would later realise, they were the best quality, the legs cut from single pieces of leather and lined the full length. They slid easily up her legs. She had not worn tight jeans since she was a teenager, but these fitted like a glove. As she buttoned the fly closed the leather was tight across her thighs, coating them with a sheer, almost reflective, coating that she could not stop running her fingers over. There was no hesitation when Anna handed her the short jacket. Gemma eased it on delighting in the rich aroma of the leather and the slight creak as she moved reminding her she was now coated with a second glossy skin.
Gemma slipped on the black short stockings and the leather boots, that seemed now to be one with the trousers.
"Well, look at you." Anna said enthusiastically. She indicated the full length mirror.
Gemma gasped as she looked, startled, aroused as she realised it was herself she was looking at. Her eye ran over the leather from her toes up over her thighs. She turned side on to see how her bum had been transformed in to a leather coated half-globe. The jacket made her arms and back as equally as sensuous and accentuated her rediscovered breasts.
"Right. That's great. I was right, it's perfect. I think I'll have more trouble getting you to take them off than getting you into them. A deal's a deal. You've got them until after filming tomorrow."
Realising she would have to go home like this. Gemma stopped dead.
"No backing out, on either side. These are staying here." Anna said taking away Gemma's grey suit and court shoes. "Off you go, presenter, you've got an appointment."
Gemma walked slowly from wardrobe, conscious of the sound the stack heels of her boots made as she went down the corridor, aware too of the way the leather seemed to move around her, stressing, relaxing in different places as she moved. She looked nervously around, wary that people would see her. She noticed a few interested glances from men, but she looked away, embarrassed, unaware of the lingering gazes her leathered bum received once she had passed.
Gemma stepped into the hairdresser's area. A smallish slim woman was hurrying around. As Gemma entered she stopped. The woman wore low slung jeans and a tight top, a bit like Gemma's, but pale blue. It was her hair, blonde and braided which caught Gemma's attention. It looked exotic and changed the shape of the hairdresser's face. It gave her that toughness that Gemma felt she needed.
"Hi, Gemma, I'm Carol, right, sit down." She swung the chair around to face Gemma. "We'll talk through the options."
Gemma sat down in the chair and let Carol run her fingers through her hair. "You keep this well. It'll be easy to work with. I'm surprised you haven't done something a bit more with it." Gemma looked in the mirror, her hair was fair and hung straight down to her shoulders. She felt it looked professional, but Carol was probably right.
"What have Jennifer and Jo got planned?"
Carol smiled. "Well, there's what Alison had. Shorter than this, cropped tight at the back and spiky on top, with highlights. It's a pretty common design at the moment. What do you think, or do you want something a bit less radical?"
"I really like how you've done yours." Gemma hesitated, trying to envisage how she would look. "Could I have something like that?"
"Most certainly." Carol grinned. "If this is what you're going to be wearing it'll go perfectly. We don't just want a replica of Alison and it fits Jennifer's 'vision' for the programme."
"Great, let's begin." Gemma gave herself over to Carol's skills. She rested her hands on her leather thighs, still amazed that her body could feel like that. She felt a tingle. Everything seemed like a dream and the time needed to transform her hair flew by.
"There you are." Carol stood back and Gemma looked up. For a second she was startled. Putting her hair into braids seemed to change the shape of her head, her whole face. She did not recognise the leather-clad woman looking back at her.
"I am proud of that, it looks great."
"Yes." Gemma said a little hesitantly, but as she stood and saw her full-length reflection she shuddered as she realised that the sexy image was herself. She alternated between feeling nervous and feeling aroused, but she knew she would never be the same again.
"I'll see you tomorrow just before the shoot, time to just check."
"Yes, thanks." Gemma replied, a little in a daze.
Gemma walked more slowly down the corridor, pondering what to do now. She felt really on edge, excited throughout her body, aware of the scent of the leather that wrapped her, of the feel of her braids touching her face.
"Hi."
Suddenly Gemma snapped out of her thoughts. She turned to find a tall man emerging from a producer's office. He wore a long leather jacket and baggy leather trousers. For a moment the fact did not register, then she recognised Steve Peterson, the male equivalent of herself, one of the two men who had won the contest. They had met at the announcement, but from his look he did not recognise her. Gemma smiled to herself.
"Hello." She said warmly.
"I'm Steve, I'm new round here." Gemma's guess had been right. It gave her new courage, to him she could now be anyone, she could continue writing her story afresh.
"I won that competition. You may have seen it."
For a moment Gemma faked a bemused expression. "Oh, yes, that's right, I remember." She was enjoying playing with him, but did not want him to slip off the hook.
"What are you going to be working on?" This was something she did not know.
"'Transformations' the new home conversion show."
"Ah, I see they've kitted you out in the style they have for their home conversion male presenters." She gestured to his leathers, for the first time recognising how well they suited his body.
"No, this is my own stuff. I don't see what get-up they've got me until tomorrow. Though I'm sure they'll want me with longer hair."
"I'm in tomorrow too, for the first shoot."
"What are you on?"
"'Getting Value', I'm their new presenter."
"Oh, I thought that was going to Gemma Barclay."
Gemma laughed. "No, apparently she had second thoughts, couldn't hack it."
"Well, you look more the part."
"Thanks." Gemma replied, truly pleased.
"Can I buy you a coffee?"
"Sure." Gemma said delighting in the interest Steve was showing, he had ignored her at the announcement.
They walked to the lift, Gemma's boot heels clicking on the floor as she strode, Steve's soft leather boots much quieter.
Steve stood against the mirror at the back of the lift, Gemma lent forward to press the button. As she did she felt Steve's soft touch run up the smooth leather of her thigh. Her skin tingled. Slowly she stepped back forcing her leathered bum against his crotch. She wiggled her tightly held bum and felt Steve's cock respond. She giggled with a wicked thrill, she had never done anything like this before, but then she had never looked like this before.
Then she felt Steve's arms pressed around her, his leather slowly moving across hers. She closed her eyes and drank in the smell, the gentle sound of their second skins in contact. Gemma turned to face Steve and impulsively pressed her lips against his. In moments their tongues were mingling.
"Shall we skip coffee?" Steve whispered into Gemma's ear. "My flat's ten minutes from here."
Gemma pulled back from him and smiled her answer. A shiver of excitement ran through her. Part of her could not believe what she was doing, but the larger part was thrilled by it. As the lift stopped at the ground floor, she stopped for a moment to view the leather-clad sex kitten about to step out. That was not the Gemma Barclay she knew, but whoever it was, Gemma was enjoying being her.
Steve's hand reached for her and she took it, letting him lead her to the low sports car. She slid across the leather-covered passenger seat and pulled the seatbelt snug against herself. Gemma liked the way it pressed her jacket and top close against her. In the low seat Gemma delighted seeing her smooth leather coated thighs before her and ran her hands over their slippery surface. Then one of Steve's joined them, stroking closer and closer to her hips and then her inner thighs. Gemma's breaths came as pants as her arousal increased.
"What's your name?" Steve asked as the car pulled away.
"Karin, Karin Jensen." Gemma said confidently. She had often thought what stage name she would take, she liked the Scandinavian feel of Karin Jensen and now it seemed to fit the woman she was becoming. Gemma Barclay would be sitting in the canteen in her grey suit, whilst Karin Jensen was heading to her new lover's flat dressed in sexy leathers.
They reached the flat in under ten minutes. Steve jumped from the car but Gemma eased out of it, enjoying the pleasure of sliding her leathered legs out first then moving her slinky body like some shiny feline. She smoothed the leather on her thighs and strutted behind Steve up to the front door to his flat. In moments they were through the door, their leathered bodies immediately pressed together as their tongues probed each other's. Steve seemed eager to screw Gemma where she stood, but she slowed things, stepping back from him. She felt confident, she was the one in control now, and she was going to play things her way.
"Go, into the bedroom." She said firmly. Steve began to move, she grasped his arm and held it until he looked back at her. She forced his fingers to run across the leather at her waist. "When I get in there, I just want you in leathers. Just that jacket, those trousers and boots, nothing else. Understand?"
Steve was almost gagging on his tongue and just nodded agreement.
Gemma turned and headed to the bathroom, she had her own preparations to make. She closed the door and in moments she was shedding her boots and leathers. For a few instants she stood just in her new underwear, but then she realised they were not what she wanted. She pulled off the bra and panties and tossed them aside. She returned to the tight leather jeans and slid them back on quickly, panting as she did. The sensation of the leather brushing her aroused sex was delicious. She bent over to ease her boots back on, looking in the mirror at how her backside became that perfect shiny black hemisphere. She was still naked from the waist up, but her nipples were hard, eager for their own touch of the leather. She gasped as she slipped the jacket back on and pulled it tight. Her mind ran through all the sorts of leather clothes she had seen, but had never had the courage to try. She knew now that her body would not forgive her unless her breasts was squeezed tightly into a leather bustiere. For the moment she did up the jacket tight against her flesh.
Gemma stepped from the bathroom aware of the caress of the leather across much of her body. She drank in the quiet sound of it as she moved, the scent that was engrained in her now, and the feeling as it rippled on naked flesh as she moved.
Steve was knelt on the bed dressed as she had ordered, his bare chest visible between the jacket, his cock threatening to explode from the taut leather of his trousers. Gemma walked slowly towards him, provocatively swaying her hips as she stepped. She stroked her hands over her leather-coated breasts as her tongue circled her lips. She was just an arm's reach away from him as she unbuttoned first her jacket, just leaving it loosely open, and then turned to the jeans. Steve could not look away as the bright metal buttons were undone, one-by-one. Gemma lent forward quickly and flapping his own hands back released his cock from its leather container, he was ready at her command, dressed in the way she wanted. Then she lunged forward and they were lost in the flurry of leathered limbs and bodies, colliding, seeking out each other. Sweat poured beneath and over the leather, until, breathless Gemma, sat astride him, his cock touching the lips of her sex, their leathered thighs pressed together. Then she rode him, thrusting on his hard tool into herself, stroking her clitoris as she did, knowing next time she did it, her hands would wear soft leather gloves.
Gemma came first, feeling detached from the real world, distant from the sights, sounds, aroma, sensations around her. She could only emit little grunts, almost like a purr as she shuddered and was filled throughout with the pleasure. As she settled back down, still astride him, she watched her own juice and his, trickling across her leather covered crotch. She wiped it clean, smearing it across his sweaty chest. These were good leathers, she wanted to keep them looking like it. She had emerged from the chrysalis and loved the shiny black butterfly she had become.
Anna looked up as she heard the sound of high-heels coming into her room. Gemma walked in and it took a moment for Anna to recognise the nervous woman she had seen the day before. Anna had guessed Gemma might have changed out of the leathers that she had been given and had already began wondering what else she could get Gemma to wear instead. She saw the bulging bag that must hold the leather jeans, jacket and boots. However, her attention was snatched away when she saw what Gemma now wore. As she moved, a long leather coat, stretching almost to her heel, swished behind her. Beneath it she wore a black leather bustiere with lines stitched into it to sculpt her body and show off her breasts. Beneath it was a skirt stopping inches above her knee. It was a single sheer piece of black leather, pulled taut, perfectly smooth, across her thighs. She stood in gleaming black leather boots which just crested her knee, their sharp heels raising her from the floor, giving her a confident, almost arrogant, air.
"Erm," Anna hesitated, "right. Are you ready to get changed?"
Karin smiled briskly, "I already have."
THE END
Emergence
Gemma Barclay worked in an insurance office, but whenever she could, she sent in articles to the town newspaper, and helped out a friend on a local radio station, always dreaming of breaking into television. Then, soon after her twenty-fifth birthday she won the first round of a competition for new talent. She went up to town for interviews and screen tests with the other finalists. Gemma had never expected to get that far, but soon found that her reasonable looks, her tidy appearance, her quick brain and the experience she had, were a winning combination. Barely five months after entering she was announced as one of the four winners who would have regular slots on a range of television programmes. Gemma was told she was going to be on 'Getting Value' a consumer affairs programme with young, dynamic presenters. She felt it was the ideal first rung of her career. It seemed like the break she had dreamt of had finally come.
Dressed in her smartest suit Gemma arrived at the television centre for her first proper day working for the company. She knew that they would not start shooting the programme until the following day. She met with Jo Standish, the producer, and Chris Patterson who oversaw all the consumer type programmes. They briefed her on all the topics her first programme would cover. She met the other two presenters, they seemed more down-to-earth than she had expected and that had relaxed her. With the introductions out of the way, she was sent to wardrobe, hairdressing and make-up. She accepted that these were all part of the business of television and headed off with good grace. Though she liked to make the most of her appearance Gemma was keen to progress in television through her abilities rather than any dolled-up looks. She went first to see what they wanted her to wear.
'Hello!' Gemma called as she walked through the door marked 'Wardrobe'. Inside, the room was packed with rails of clothes, there was the sound and the smell of a steam iron and occasionally the sight of a staff member hurrying back and forth with clothes over their arms. There was every kind of clothing, from medieval robes to the latest fashions, the full range necessary for the company's programmes.
Gemma walked up to the nearest woman. She was about Gemma's height, possibly ten years older. She wore a long loose black silk blouse and dark trousers with a brocade pattern on them. Her hair stretched a way down her back, held from her face by a tortoiseshell clip.
"I'm looking for Anna Booker."
"You've found her." The woman smiled.
"I'm Gemma Barclay."
"The new presenter on 'Getting Value', bang on time." Anna said warmly. "This shouldn't take long. I had all your measurements sent through, so this is just to see what you look like in it. Then you can pop back in tomorrow ahead of the shoot and get all kitted out without delay. Sound alright?"
"Sure." Gemma said, not a little curious about what she was going to be wearing but Anna seemed to know her job.
"I've assembled it all over here." Anna said. Gemma followed her to a corner of the room where only a few items hung on a rail.
Anna reached down a hanger. At first Gemma thought it was just a pair of black denim jeans and jacket, more casual than what she had expected to wear for her first time on television, but she was happy to do what Anna suggested. As Gemma stepped closer she realised that they were not denim at all, but leather. They still had the prominent yellow stitching of jeans but as Anna held them up Gemma could see that they were smooth, perfect black leather.
"I can't wear that." Gemma said, sounding startled.
"Why ever not?" Anna asked incredulously. "They're brand new, they look great. They told me your sizes." She nodded to a pair of matching boots resting on the floor close by.
"Do you think it really suits what I'll be doing? This is a consumer affairs programme."
"Yes." Anna said slowly. "You did notice what Alison Moore wore. You're stepping into her shoes, or should I say boots."
Gemma looked sheepish. She had only seen a few episodes of the programme, it was on Thursday nights when she played squash. Now she thought back she remembered the shiny leather trousers, the maroon leather skirt and knee-length boots, the brown cropped leather jacket, the red biker jacket, that Alison had worn on the odd programmes Gemma had seen. To be truthful, Gemma had never really looked at the fashions, her thoughts had been on the topics being discussed. She glanced up and saw a shot of Alison dressed in a long leather coat and her distinctive matching leather trousers amongst the stills Anna had across her wall.
"I thought that was her own stuff." Gemma replied.
"A lot of it was. Have you got something similar you want to bring in?"
"Erm, no, I thought I'd be wearing something like this." Gemma indicated the grey suit she wore.
Anna shook her head. "Haven't they briefed you on your role at all? Consumer programmes have a tough image these days. You must have seen them chasing down dodgy traders in the street. You need to stand out, look tough, but also stylish and knowledgeable. I thought this outfit would stamp your mark on the programme right from the start."
"Erm, right." Gemma realised there were so many aspects of this job she had not thought through. "I don't think I would feel comfortable dressed from head to foot in leather, it would make me too self-conscious."
"Well, we're at a bit of an impasse then. I know Jo Standish has worked out the look of the show with Chris Patterson. I'm just going along with what they asked for wardrobe. You'll have to talk to them, if you want to change it."
Anna went and hung up the leathers on a rail and tucked the boots beneath them. She looked a bit disappointed. She disappeared behind a hanger. Gemma stood feeling embarrassed, not knowing what to do. She realised that her assumptions about the job had left many areas out, especially about how she was to appear to the public.
"Well, what are you doing standing there? You're supposed to be having your hair done after seeing me."
"Oh right." Gemma replied, but did not move.
"You're having second thoughts aren't you? Maybe you're not cut out for television." Anna said more sympathetically.
"It's just I had an image of how I would come across and it seems that everyone here has other ideas."
Anna laughed. "We all bow down to the demands of the viewer. I think you'd look great in these." She walked back to the leathers. "Otherwise I wouldn't have picked them out for you."
Gemma felt guilty for disappointing Anna.
"The programme's not until tomorrow. If you want time to get accustomed to something that you don't feel is you, I can let you have it all over night. Walk around in them, go out in them, you'll soon feel as if they're just your second skin."
Gemma looked pensive.
"Think about it while you're having your hair done."
"No, it's got to be now or never." Gemma walked briskly to the changing cubicle.
Anna smiled broadly as Gemma quickly stripped off her grey suit and plain blouse. In moments she was in her underwear.
"Well, before I can think about what you're wearing on top, we have to sort out the underwear."
In minutes Gemma's plain white underwear was replaced by items in midnight blue silk. The sensation made her tingle.
"Put this on first."
Anna handed her a soft black short-sleeved top scooped down to the top of her breasts, now lifted by a proper fitting bra. She eased on the top and it clung to her. She felt safe in it as it held her snugly. Her breasts seemed to have grown another cup size, but she had not time to worry about that as Anna was handing her the leather jeans. Gemma hesitated, feeling the smooth soft leather in her hands before she eased one leg then the other into the jeans.
As she would later realise, they were the best quality, the legs cut from single pieces of leather and lined the full length. They slid easily up her legs. She had not worn tight jeans since she was a teenager, but these fitted like a glove. As she buttoned the fly closed the leather was tight across her thighs, coating them with a sheer, almost reflective, coating that she could not stop running her fingers over. There was no hesitation when Anna handed her the short jacket. Gemma eased it on delighting in the rich aroma of the leather and the slight creak as she moved reminding her she was now coated with a second glossy skin.
Gemma slipped on the black short stockings and the leather boots, that seemed now to be one with the trousers.
"Well, look at you." Anna said enthusiastically. She indicated the full length mirror.
Gemma gasped as she looked, startled, aroused as she realised it was herself she was looking at. Her eye ran over the leather from her toes up over her thighs. She turned side on to see how her bum had been transformed in to a leather coated half-globe. The jacket made her arms and back as equally as sensuous and accentuated her rediscovered breasts.
"Right. That's great. I was right, it's perfect. I think I'll have more trouble getting you to take them off than getting you into them. A deal's a deal. You've got them until after filming tomorrow."
Realising she would have to go home like this. Gemma stopped dead.
"No backing out, on either side. These are staying here." Anna said taking away Gemma's grey suit and court shoes. "Off you go, presenter, you've got an appointment."
Gemma walked slowly from wardrobe, conscious of the sound the stack heels of her boots made as she went down the corridor, aware too of the way the leather seemed to move around her, stressing, relaxing in different places as she moved. She looked nervously around, wary that people would see her. She noticed a few interested glances from men, but she looked away, embarrassed, unaware of the lingering gazes her leathered bum received once she had passed.
Gemma stepped into the hairdresser's area. A smallish slim woman was hurrying around. As Gemma entered she stopped. The woman wore low slung jeans and a tight top, a bit like Gemma's, but pale blue. It was her hair, blonde and braided which caught Gemma's attention. It looked exotic and changed the shape of the hairdresser's face. It gave her that toughness that Gemma felt she needed.
"Hi, Gemma, I'm Carol, right, sit down." She swung the chair around to face Gemma. "We'll talk through the options."
Gemma sat down in the chair and let Carol run her fingers through her hair. "You keep this well. It'll be easy to work with. I'm surprised you haven't done something a bit more with it." Gemma looked in the mirror, her hair was fair and hung straight down to her shoulders. She felt it looked professional, but Carol was probably right.
"What have Jennifer and Jo got planned?"
Carol smiled. "Well, there's what Alison had. Shorter than this, cropped tight at the back and spiky on top, with highlights. It's a pretty common design at the moment. What do you think, or do you want something a bit less radical?"
"I really like how you've done yours." Gemma hesitated, trying to envisage how she would look. "Could I have something like that?"
"Most certainly." Carol grinned. "If this is what you're going to be wearing it'll go perfectly. We don't just want a replica of Alison and it fits Jennifer's 'vision' for the programme."
"Great, let's begin." Gemma gave herself over to Carol's skills. She rested her hands on her leather thighs, still amazed that her body could feel like that. She felt a tingle. Everything seemed like a dream and the time needed to transform her hair flew by.
"There you are." Carol stood back and Gemma looked up. For a second she was startled. Putting her hair into braids seemed to change the shape of her head, her whole face. She did not recognise the leather-clad woman looking back at her.
"I am proud of that, it looks great."
"Yes." Gemma said a little hesitantly, but as she stood and saw her full-length reflection she shuddered as she realised that the sexy image was herself. She alternated between feeling nervous and feeling aroused, but she knew she would never be the same again.
"I'll see you tomorrow just before the shoot, time to just check."
"Yes, thanks." Gemma replied, a little in a daze.
Gemma walked more slowly down the corridor, pondering what to do now. She felt really on edge, excited throughout her body, aware of the scent of the leather that wrapped her, of the feel of her braids touching her face.
"Hi."
Suddenly Gemma snapped out of her thoughts. She turned to find a tall man emerging from a producer's office. He wore a long leather jacket and baggy leather trousers. For a moment the fact did not register, then she recognised Steve Peterson, the male equivalent of herself, one of the two men who had won the contest. They had met at the announcement, but from his look he did not recognise her. Gemma smiled to herself.
"Hello." She said warmly.
"I'm Steve, I'm new round here." Gemma's guess had been right. It gave her new courage, to him she could now be anyone, she could continue writing her story afresh.
"I won that competition. You may have seen it."
For a moment Gemma faked a bemused expression. "Oh, yes, that's right, I remember." She was enjoying playing with him, but did not want him to slip off the hook.
"What are you going to be working on?" This was something she did not know.
"'Transformations' the new home conversion show."
"Ah, I see they've kitted you out in the style they have for their home conversion male presenters." She gestured to his leathers, for the first time recognising how well they suited his body.
"No, this is my own stuff. I don't see what get-up they've got me until tomorrow. Though I'm sure they'll want me with longer hair."
"I'm in tomorrow too, for the first shoot."
"What are you on?"
"'Getting Value', I'm their new presenter."
"Oh, I thought that was going to Gemma Barclay."
Gemma laughed. "No, apparently she had second thoughts, couldn't hack it."
"Well, you look more the part."
"Thanks." Gemma replied, truly pleased.
"Can I buy you a coffee?"
"Sure." Gemma said delighting in the interest Steve was showing, he had ignored her at the announcement.
They walked to the lift, Gemma's boot heels clicking on the floor as she strode, Steve's soft leather boots much quieter.
Steve stood against the mirror at the back of the lift, Gemma lent forward to press the button. As she did she felt Steve's soft touch run up the smooth leather of her thigh. Her skin tingled. Slowly she stepped back forcing her leathered bum against his crotch. She wiggled her tightly held bum and felt Steve's cock respond. She giggled with a wicked thrill, she had never done anything like this before, but then she had never looked like this before.
Then she felt Steve's arms pressed around her, his leather slowly moving across hers. She closed her eyes and drank in the smell, the gentle sound of their second skins in contact. Gemma turned to face Steve and impulsively pressed her lips against his. In moments their tongues were mingling.
"Shall we skip coffee?" Steve whispered into Gemma's ear. "My flat's ten minutes from here."
Gemma pulled back from him and smiled her answer. A shiver of excitement ran through her. Part of her could not believe what she was doing, but the larger part was thrilled by it. As the lift stopped at the ground floor, she stopped for a moment to view the leather-clad sex kitten about to step out. That was not the Gemma Barclay she knew, but whoever it was, Gemma was enjoying being her.
Steve's hand reached for her and she took it, letting him lead her to the low sports car. She slid across the leather-covered passenger seat and pulled the seatbelt snug against herself. Gemma liked the way it pressed her jacket and top close against her. In the low seat Gemma delighted seeing her smooth leather coated thighs before her and ran her hands over their slippery surface. Then one of Steve's joined them, stroking closer and closer to her hips and then her inner thighs. Gemma's breaths came as pants as her arousal increased.
"What's your name?" Steve asked as the car pulled away.
"Karin, Karin Jensen." Gemma said confidently. She had often thought what stage name she would take, she liked the Scandinavian feel of Karin Jensen and now it seemed to fit the woman she was becoming. Gemma Barclay would be sitting in the canteen in her grey suit, whilst Karin Jensen was heading to her new lover's flat dressed in sexy leathers.
They reached the flat in under ten minutes. Steve jumped from the car but Gemma eased out of it, enjoying the pleasure of sliding her leathered legs out first then moving her slinky body like some shiny feline. She smoothed the leather on her thighs and strutted behind Steve up to the front door to his flat. In moments they were through the door, their leathered bodies immediately pressed together as their tongues probed each other's. Steve seemed eager to screw Gemma where she stood, but she slowed things, stepping back from him. She felt confident, she was the one in control now, and she was going to play things her way.
"Go, into the bedroom." She said firmly. Steve began to move, she grasped his arm and held it until he looked back at her. She forced his fingers to run across the leather at her waist. "When I get in there, I just want you in leathers. Just that jacket, those trousers and boots, nothing else. Understand?"
Steve was almost gagging on his tongue and just nodded agreement.
Gemma turned and headed to the bathroom, she had her own preparations to make. She closed the door and in moments she was shedding her boots and leathers. For a few instants she stood just in her new underwear, but then she realised they were not what she wanted. She pulled off the bra and panties and tossed them aside. She returned to the tight leather jeans and slid them back on quickly, panting as she did. The sensation of the leather brushing her aroused sex was delicious. She bent over to ease her boots back on, looking in the mirror at how her backside became that perfect shiny black hemisphere. She was still naked from the waist up, but her nipples were hard, eager for their own touch of the leather. She gasped as she slipped the jacket back on and pulled it tight. Her mind ran through all the sorts of leather clothes she had seen, but had never had the courage to try. She knew now that her body would not forgive her unless her breasts was squeezed tightly into a leather bustiere. For the moment she did up the jacket tight against her flesh.
Gemma stepped from the bathroom aware of the caress of the leather across much of her body. She drank in the quiet sound of it as she moved, the scent that was engrained in her now, and the feeling as it rippled on naked flesh as she moved.
Steve was knelt on the bed dressed as she had ordered, his bare chest visible between the jacket, his cock threatening to explode from the taut leather of his trousers. Gemma walked slowly towards him, provocatively swaying her hips as she stepped. She stroked her hands over her leather-coated breasts as her tongue circled her lips. She was just an arm's reach away from him as she unbuttoned first her jacket, just leaving it loosely open, and then turned to the jeans. Steve could not look away as the bright metal buttons were undone, one-by-one. Gemma lent forward quickly and flapping his own hands back released his cock from its leather container, he was ready at her command, dressed in the way she wanted. Then she lunged forward and they were lost in the flurry of leathered limbs and bodies, colliding, seeking out each other. Sweat poured beneath and over the leather, until, breathless Gemma, sat astride him, his cock touching the lips of her sex, their leathered thighs pressed together. Then she rode him, thrusting on his hard tool into herself, stroking her clitoris as she did, knowing next time she did it, her hands would wear soft leather gloves.
Gemma came first, feeling detached from the real world, distant from the sights, sounds, aroma, sensations around her. She could only emit little grunts, almost like a purr as she shuddered and was filled throughout with the pleasure. As she settled back down, still astride him, she watched her own juice and his, trickling across her leather covered crotch. She wiped it clean, smearing it across his sweaty chest. These were good leathers, she wanted to keep them looking like it. She had emerged from the chrysalis and loved the shiny black butterfly she had become.
Anna looked up as she heard the sound of high-heels coming into her room. Gemma walked in and it took a moment for Anna to recognise the nervous woman she had seen the day before. Anna had guessed Gemma might have changed out of the leathers that she had been given and had already began wondering what else she could get Gemma to wear instead. She saw the bulging bag that must hold the leather jeans, jacket and boots. However, her attention was snatched away when she saw what Gemma now wore. As she moved, a long leather coat, stretching almost to her heel, swished behind her. Beneath it she wore a black leather bustiere with lines stitched into it to sculpt her body and show off her breasts. Beneath it was a skirt stopping inches above her knee. It was a single sheer piece of black leather, pulled taut, perfectly smooth, across her thighs. She stood in gleaming black leather boots which just crested her knee, their sharp heels raising her from the floor, giving her a confident, almost arrogant, air.
"Erm," Anna hesitated, "right. Are you ready to get changed?"
Karin smiled briskly, "I already have."
THE END
Leather Story: A New Flatmate
This is an old story and shows up many themes that have appeared in a number of my stories. I often re-use the same name, and as you can see here, Helen, Karyn and Nikki are ones that have often featured. Also the whole issue around moving into a new house or flat and what you uncover when you move in there, is a common theme of mine, I suppose, of a lot of writers. This is a quick story about a woman coming to wear leather as a result of such circumstances, and again, as with a number of the leather stories, the sexual element is implied rather than seen explicitly.
A New Flatmate
Helen pressed the doorbell. A few moments later the door was opened by a young woman about Helen’s age. However, in contrast to the plain blouse and skirt Helen wore, she was clad in shiny black leather. She wore a cropped leather top that showed her nipples erect in the leather and left her midriff naked, so that Helen could see the ring in her navel. Her legs were coated in tight shiny leather jeans covering smooth, matching leather boots. Her hair was short and blonde. She wore three silver rings in each ear and a stud in her nose.
“Karyn?” Helen asked.
“Yes, we spoke on the ‘phone, you’ve come about the room.” Karyn said warmly.
“Yes.” Helen said.
“Come in.”
Helen followed, her attention focussed on Karyn’s bum, swaying sexily in the smooth leather, which creaked gently with every step. The jeans clung to Karyn like a second smooth skin. Helen realised they had no pockets so as Karyn walked in front of her she was presented with the smooth hemisphere of Karyn’s leathered backside. Helen found it difficult to concentrate as she was shown around. It was a clean and modernly furnished flat. Her prospective bedroom was nice, but bare.
“This is my room.” Karyn said at last. Opening the door into a large plush room, dominated by a circular bed covered with silk sheets and a large mirrored wardrobe. “We are usually very informal here, the last woman who had your room, Lucy, her, and I were always swapping clothes.” She slid back the door of the wardrobe to show a wide range of exotic clothes, many in leather, others in PVC, even a rubber catsuit, plus a variety of pairs of boots.
Helen flushed, she could hardly imagine herself borrowing any of those clothes. Karyn slid the door shut.
“So what do you think?” Karyn said eagerly.
“Fine.” Helen stuttered, looking away from Karyn awkwardly.
“Shall we have a coffee, and discuss the details?”
“Erh, yes.” Helen replied, not really knowing what to say. She was trying to cope with the idea that she could be living in this house with a woman so exciting and sexy.
Helen walked back down into the living room, whilst Karyn went into the kitchen. She looked around the plushly decorated lounge and reclined on the blue leather sofa. There was an expensive hi-fi and television built into matching metal blue units. Smart lamps and a carpet also adorned the room. Soon Karyn returned with the coffees and sat down opposite Helen.
Helen sipped her coffee nervously, she could not keep her eyes off Karyn, they kept running up and down her body, from her boots, the length of her shiny leathered legs to her naked waist and then her shiny breasts. She could not help looking at how the leather caressed her naked body, coating it in a second smooth, shiny skin.
Suddenly Karyn sat forward her eyes fixed on Helen’s, but her look was enthusiastic, not annoyed, it was challenging but in an encouraging not offended way.
“You’re fascinated, aren’t you? Not just a little curious, you can’t look away. This is different to passing someone like me on the street, you are having to face up to sitting so close to someone who is so blatant, so honest about what she is, admitting loads of things that you could not even consider yourself. You’re too frightened to admit your own feelings. Somewhere, deep hidden in the depths of your dreams, your fantasies, lies an urge to let yourself go, to dress yourself how you really want, sexily, to admit what you really want.” She deliberately ran her hands slowly across her leathered thighs, then her naked flesh and erect breasts, to emphasise her points.
Helen was blushing ferociously. She was sweating, her mouth was dry, her heart beating violently. She put the cup down on the table, her hands shaking.
Karyn stood up slowly, smoothing the leather across her thighs provocatively. She walked across to Helen who was frozen to the spot.
“You want to live here more than you could ever say. I agree on one condition - that I make you what your dreams are burning for you to be.”
Karyn took Helen’s unresisting hand and pulled her up. She led her gently into her bedroom. Casually Karyn unbuttoned Helen’s blouse and discarded it. Then she bent to remove Helen’s shoes, her shiny bum thrust upwards as she did. Helen was almost panting as she felt her skirt and then her tights pulled down. Karyn rested her leathered body against her as she removed Helen’s bra, and then lightly kissed both of her bare nipples in turn. Helen could not conceal her body’s reaction. Both her breasts were hard, and her sex loose and hungry.
Karyn walked to the wardrobe and collected a leather top, trousers and boots like she wore. Helen was shuddering with anticipation as she came back to her. She expected Karyn to dress her. Instead she laid the clothes on the bed.
“Dress.” She said.
Helen hesitated. Then slowly picked up the top. She could not believe what was happening. Slowly she wrapped the smooth leather across her breasts, and then zipped it up the back. She could not believe the sensation. She could not stop herself reaching for the trousers. Slowly she slipped in one leg and then the other and pulled the trousers up so that her bum was coated in shiny leather. She buttoned the fly and buckled the belt, sealing herself into the leather. Finally she reached for the boots, the leather of her trousers and top creaking as she did. She pulled on one and then the other and buckled them up. She rose on the heels and noticed they were sharper than Karyn’s, stilettos, more feminine.
Helen walked across to the mirror and stood with her hands on her hips, not believing what she was seeing. Her body felt relaxed but aroused, she loved the sensation of the leather coating her body and the whispering sound it made as she moved. Like this she felt she was a different person, that she had shed all the concerns of her previous existence. Then she felt Karyn’s fingers brush against the smooth leather which coated her bum and she gasped with the sensation. Karyn walked up behind her and wrapped her hands around Helen’s waist. She began gently swaying from side to side taking Helen with her. Helen was powerless to stop herself, soon she was swaying and bending as Karyn did, her body warm and pressed close to her. Their leathers stroked across each other. Helen could see Karyn’s face visible beside hers in the mirror. Soon she was drifting away, her movements, her arms, her body thrusting and stroking as Karyn’s did.
“Ahh, Nikki.” Karyn whispered in her ear.
“My name’s Helen.” She replied lazily.
“No, Helen was the woman outside, you’re Nikki, you can’t stop the change.”
Karyn turned her around suddenly and smothered her lips with her own. Helen struggled to pull away but the feeling was too pleasurable, the pair of them swayed and stroked against each others’ bodies as Karyn’s tongue probed deep into Helen’s mouth and her fingers caressed her hardening breasts. As Karyn’s hands stroked her leathered bum, Helen realised how she was dressed that it was not a dream, not someone else, but herself. Helen felt herself yielding, wanting to arouse and please this woman. She turned from simply yielding to actively making love to Karyn, to prolong the sensation. As she let Karyn’s tongue deep into her mouth Helen knew that the next time she stepped out of this flat it would be as the leather coated lover she was now.
A New Flatmate
Helen pressed the doorbell. A few moments later the door was opened by a young woman about Helen’s age. However, in contrast to the plain blouse and skirt Helen wore, she was clad in shiny black leather. She wore a cropped leather top that showed her nipples erect in the leather and left her midriff naked, so that Helen could see the ring in her navel. Her legs were coated in tight shiny leather jeans covering smooth, matching leather boots. Her hair was short and blonde. She wore three silver rings in each ear and a stud in her nose.
“Karyn?” Helen asked.
“Yes, we spoke on the ‘phone, you’ve come about the room.” Karyn said warmly.
“Yes.” Helen said.
“Come in.”
Helen followed, her attention focussed on Karyn’s bum, swaying sexily in the smooth leather, which creaked gently with every step. The jeans clung to Karyn like a second smooth skin. Helen realised they had no pockets so as Karyn walked in front of her she was presented with the smooth hemisphere of Karyn’s leathered backside. Helen found it difficult to concentrate as she was shown around. It was a clean and modernly furnished flat. Her prospective bedroom was nice, but bare.
“This is my room.” Karyn said at last. Opening the door into a large plush room, dominated by a circular bed covered with silk sheets and a large mirrored wardrobe. “We are usually very informal here, the last woman who had your room, Lucy, her, and I were always swapping clothes.” She slid back the door of the wardrobe to show a wide range of exotic clothes, many in leather, others in PVC, even a rubber catsuit, plus a variety of pairs of boots.
Helen flushed, she could hardly imagine herself borrowing any of those clothes. Karyn slid the door shut.
“So what do you think?” Karyn said eagerly.
“Fine.” Helen stuttered, looking away from Karyn awkwardly.
“Shall we have a coffee, and discuss the details?”
“Erh, yes.” Helen replied, not really knowing what to say. She was trying to cope with the idea that she could be living in this house with a woman so exciting and sexy.
Helen walked back down into the living room, whilst Karyn went into the kitchen. She looked around the plushly decorated lounge and reclined on the blue leather sofa. There was an expensive hi-fi and television built into matching metal blue units. Smart lamps and a carpet also adorned the room. Soon Karyn returned with the coffees and sat down opposite Helen.
Helen sipped her coffee nervously, she could not keep her eyes off Karyn, they kept running up and down her body, from her boots, the length of her shiny leathered legs to her naked waist and then her shiny breasts. She could not help looking at how the leather caressed her naked body, coating it in a second smooth, shiny skin.
Suddenly Karyn sat forward her eyes fixed on Helen’s, but her look was enthusiastic, not annoyed, it was challenging but in an encouraging not offended way.
“You’re fascinated, aren’t you? Not just a little curious, you can’t look away. This is different to passing someone like me on the street, you are having to face up to sitting so close to someone who is so blatant, so honest about what she is, admitting loads of things that you could not even consider yourself. You’re too frightened to admit your own feelings. Somewhere, deep hidden in the depths of your dreams, your fantasies, lies an urge to let yourself go, to dress yourself how you really want, sexily, to admit what you really want.” She deliberately ran her hands slowly across her leathered thighs, then her naked flesh and erect breasts, to emphasise her points.
Helen was blushing ferociously. She was sweating, her mouth was dry, her heart beating violently. She put the cup down on the table, her hands shaking.
Karyn stood up slowly, smoothing the leather across her thighs provocatively. She walked across to Helen who was frozen to the spot.
“You want to live here more than you could ever say. I agree on one condition - that I make you what your dreams are burning for you to be.”
Karyn took Helen’s unresisting hand and pulled her up. She led her gently into her bedroom. Casually Karyn unbuttoned Helen’s blouse and discarded it. Then she bent to remove Helen’s shoes, her shiny bum thrust upwards as she did. Helen was almost panting as she felt her skirt and then her tights pulled down. Karyn rested her leathered body against her as she removed Helen’s bra, and then lightly kissed both of her bare nipples in turn. Helen could not conceal her body’s reaction. Both her breasts were hard, and her sex loose and hungry.
Karyn walked to the wardrobe and collected a leather top, trousers and boots like she wore. Helen was shuddering with anticipation as she came back to her. She expected Karyn to dress her. Instead she laid the clothes on the bed.
“Dress.” She said.
Helen hesitated. Then slowly picked up the top. She could not believe what was happening. Slowly she wrapped the smooth leather across her breasts, and then zipped it up the back. She could not believe the sensation. She could not stop herself reaching for the trousers. Slowly she slipped in one leg and then the other and pulled the trousers up so that her bum was coated in shiny leather. She buttoned the fly and buckled the belt, sealing herself into the leather. Finally she reached for the boots, the leather of her trousers and top creaking as she did. She pulled on one and then the other and buckled them up. She rose on the heels and noticed they were sharper than Karyn’s, stilettos, more feminine.
Helen walked across to the mirror and stood with her hands on her hips, not believing what she was seeing. Her body felt relaxed but aroused, she loved the sensation of the leather coating her body and the whispering sound it made as she moved. Like this she felt she was a different person, that she had shed all the concerns of her previous existence. Then she felt Karyn’s fingers brush against the smooth leather which coated her bum and she gasped with the sensation. Karyn walked up behind her and wrapped her hands around Helen’s waist. She began gently swaying from side to side taking Helen with her. Helen was powerless to stop herself, soon she was swaying and bending as Karyn did, her body warm and pressed close to her. Their leathers stroked across each other. Helen could see Karyn’s face visible beside hers in the mirror. Soon she was drifting away, her movements, her arms, her body thrusting and stroking as Karyn’s did.
“Ahh, Nikki.” Karyn whispered in her ear.
“My name’s Helen.” She replied lazily.
“No, Helen was the woman outside, you’re Nikki, you can’t stop the change.”
Karyn turned her around suddenly and smothered her lips with her own. Helen struggled to pull away but the feeling was too pleasurable, the pair of them swayed and stroked against each others’ bodies as Karyn’s tongue probed deep into Helen’s mouth and her fingers caressed her hardening breasts. As Karyn’s hands stroked her leathered bum, Helen realised how she was dressed that it was not a dream, not someone else, but herself. Helen felt herself yielding, wanting to arouse and please this woman. She turned from simply yielding to actively making love to Karyn, to prolong the sensation. As she let Karyn’s tongue deep into her mouth Helen knew that the next time she stepped out of this flat it would be as the leather coated lover she was now.
Illustrated Leather Stories
These are some of the illustrated stories I have produced using images I have garnered from the internet. These have generally appeared on the Hypnotics Collective too. This selection features characters being introduced to leather clothing, often as part of other changes being made to them and through mind control.
Monday, 30 June 2008
Office Story: Recruitment - Part 1
This was the first story in what I see as a sub-set of the stories set in the contemporary UK. These are stories where the transformation of the woman in question starts in an office work context. I have termed these 'Office Stories'.
This story was initially written in October 2000 long before I had ever encountered Alphax's seminal story 'Presents' or N.M. Hawthorne's 'The Collar', but this story certainly falls into the 'lesbian mistress enslaving women through gifts of collars and rubber clothes left on the doorstep' sub-genre that they created. The first part has subtle mind control, the second part a more direct approach.
Recruitment
by Tang.
Part 1
Rebecca had only been at the job as secretary a few days. It was reasonable working for Mr. Thomas if a little unexciting. One day she was told that they were to have an important client visiting, a Ms. Harrison, but that she was to stay out of the way whilst she was there.
Rebecca sat at her desk and ran through the files in front of her. She realised that Mr. Thomas had left those dealing with the Harrison account with her. Rebecca picked them up and walked to Mr. Thomas's office. She tapped on the door and went in. Mr. Thomas was not there, but Rebecca stopped short as she saw his visitor.
Ms. Harrison was dressed in a skin-tight red leather jumpsuit. She also wore matching sharp heeled boots which stretched to her knees. Her hands were coated with red leather gloves, all the shade of her lipstick. Her hair was blonde and sharply cut. Rebecca hesitated then looked again. Lying at Ms. Harrison's feet was a young, shapely woman, dressed in a shiny black rubber catsuit which clung to her body making it slippery and glossy. She wore matching thigh boots. Her hair too, was cropped tight. At her neck she wore a glossy collar and attached to it was a leash which her mistress fiddled with between her fingers. The pet purred as Ms. Harrison casually stroked her shoulder.
Rebecca was speechless, hesitantly she put the file on Mr. Thomas' desk and began stepping slowly back towards the door.
"You must be Rebecca." Ms. Harrison said cheerfully.
"Y-y-yes." Rebecca said hesitantly, frozen to the spot.
"I see you are fascinated by Tyta, my pet." She spoke calmly. "I know your type, from the moment you came in, from how you are looking now. You can't help wondering if you could be so erotic. Fawning for your mistress." Ms. Harrison emphasized each sentence.
Rebecca stared transfixed. "Imagine your naked body coated in squealing slippery rubber." Ms. Harrison continued then she stopped talking as if letting the image sink into Rebecca's mind. "Erotic and servile. Living for pleasure, unconcerned with everything else."
Rebecca tried to stop herself thinking the thoughts Ms. Harrison was putting so seductively into her mind, almost entrancing her. She glanced down at her own clothes, just to check that she was not somehow becoming like the pet. Then she heard movement behind her. She turned and flushed as Mr. Thomas walked in.
"Erm, ah, Mr. Thomas, I have the file for you on the business with Ms. Harrison..." Rebecca said hesitantly.
"It was so good to meet you, I look forward to seeing you again." Ms. Harrison said as Rebecca edged towards the door.
"Okay, Rebecca. I think you had better go now. I'll handle it." Mr. Thomas said.
Rebecca nodded and slipped from the room. She tried not to, but could not help glancing over at the two women as she closed the door. Rebecca returned to her desk, but was unable to think clearly. She wondered where a woman like Ms. Harrison came from, her lifestyle. Then she heard the other door open. She looked up to see Tyta strutting out of the office. Her rubber squealed and rippled with every step. Rebecca tried to look at her work but within moments had given up any pretence. She stared as Tyta stood still on her high sharp heels, encouraging Rebecca to look at her. Tyta glanced down to the pointed toes of her glossy boots, Rebecca's gaze followed hers, then rose slowly up her shapely legs, every contour shown in the shiny gloss. Her eyes moved past the shiny buckles at her thighs and the thin zip over her naked crotch. Her hands, themselves covered in long glossy gloves, rested on her shapely hips. Rebecca continued working up Tyta's body to her firm breasts, their nipples clearly straining in the rubber. Then she took in the shiny collar at Tyta's neck and her sharply made-up face. Having seen that Rebecca had clearly viewed her body, Tyta began to gently sway, sighing slowly as her body delighted in the rubber that clung to her. She turned her bum to Rebecca, tight and shiny in the gloss. She ran her hands across it, gently stroking, then down between her thighs. Tyta was soon panting and moaning as she moved so erotically. Rebecca just sat entranced by the scene. Then Ms. Harrison came through into the room.
"Having a bit of fun?" She asked her pet. Tyta slowed her moves and strutted swaying in her rubber to her mistress. They kissed passionately, the Ms. Harrison casually ran her hand over her pet's slippery bum, then attached the glossy leash to her collar.
"Did Rebecca watch you, my pet?" Ms. Harrison asked as she looked over to Rebecca.
"Yes, mistress, right through."
"Just as I thought." She walked towards Rebecca, Tyta following behind, led by her leash. "I could make you Tyta's stable mate within minutes. I know you could not resist, admit it, you are as erotic as she is. Come with me."
Rebecca just gulped, she could feel herself rising from her chair and leaving to become Ms. Harrison's sex-slave. She shuddered as she thought of herself as a sex object with skin-tight rubber clinging to her body. Suddenly the intercom unit buzzed and Rebecca let out her breath.
"Yes Mr. Thomas."
"Please come in here, Rebecca."
Rebecca glanced up at Ms. Harrison. The moment had passed and she spoke formally, if hesitantly. "Excuse me. I must go."
"Fine, but I am sure I will see you soon." Ms. Harrison said and strode from the room, Rebecca watched Tyta strutting behind her, her bum swaying sexily. She felt the urge to follow, to yield to the urges aroused in her, to become a glossed sex-slave. She snapped her mind back to her job. She went into her boss's office.
"Ah, Rebecca, just a word. I know Ms. Harrison is an important client, but I think I should handle business with her from now. We don't want you getting tempted by her." He did not look at her directly. "You know she is rather eccentric, and you know some women get affected by people like her. I think you understand."
"Yes, Mr. Thomas." She said, feeling daring even talking about Ms. Harrison and her pet.
Rebecca sat in her bedroom, her pussy still moist from the arousal she had had that day. In her mind she felt herself having swapped with Tyta, herself in the skin-tight rubber strutting behind Ms. Harrison, looking at the plain secretary sitting at the desk. She found it difficult to block the image from her mind. She knew if she ever saw Ms. Harrison again she could not resist becoming her sex-slave. Somehow her body was hungry for the bondage, but now Ms. Harrison was gone, there was no way she could follow up, her chance had passed. She could have been transformed into a horny sex-slave and now it was just a fantasy.
A ring at the front door snapped Rebecca out of her thoughts. She hurried downstairs. When she opened the door there was no-one there just a large parcel, addressed to her. Bemused she brought it into her house. She quickly unwrapped it. The moment she caught sight of the long shiny boots, she knew she would soon be a purring sex-slave, her body would not let her do anything else, she could not resist the transformation. She ached to think of herself, leashed, strutting in her rubber, at her mistress's command, being so erotic, licking out her mistress a she was ordered, unable to disobey, just erotic and servile.
Rebecca eagerly carried the clothes to her bedroom, barely thinking what she was doing. She quickly undressed and stood naked in front of the mirror. She then lifted up the black rubber catsuit and looked at it as caught the light. This was going to be what she wore, showing off every part of her body, showing her servility. Slowly she eased one leg and then the other into the gloss. It was slippery and arousing as it slid across her naked skin, clinging to her body. Soon it coated her bum and she remembered Tyta thrusting out her own. Rebecca quickly slid her arms into the rubber and eased the zip up, sealing her naked body into the shine, watching as her hardening breasts straining against it. Already she felt different, the rubber squealed to her every move and made her body catch the light. She eased her glossed legs into the long boots, she was panting as she buckled each at her thighs. She stood on the sharp heels, knowing she was yielding to her urges and that this was an irreversible process. Finally she slipped her hands into the long shiny gloves and gazed into the mirror.
Rebecca ran her eyes over her own reflection as she had over Tyta's body. She gasped as she watched the light catch the shine of the tight rubber, how it was taut across her body, how her shapely contours were shown by her clothes. She turned side on to admire the shine that clung to her bum and closely followed the line of her thighs. She took time to get to recognise her new self.
Rebecca began strutting across the room, becoming accustomed to the sharp high heels, letting her body yield to the second slippery skin that coated it. She lifted up her legs and twisted her body, delighting in the squeal as the rubber tightened and released, rippling across her body, shaping it to her and shaping herself to it. Within minutes she was comfortable in the slippery, shiny rubber. As it became less of a novelty, it became more arousing. She was becoming a woman suited to the way she was dressed. It was impossible to stop, this was the new her, these were the clothes she wore, from choice, this was the way she looked. Then Rebecca caught sight of a glossy collar at the bottom of the parcel. She picked it up and slowly lifted it to her neck. She hesitated, then closed it, locking it. Now she was truly a glossed sex-slave.
Rebecca was impatient, she was glossed and aroused, hungry to please her mistress. It was clear that Ms. Harrison knew where she was, she had been right that Rebecca was a sexy woman and had released her urges and as a result she had been transformed into an erotic pet. Rebecca knew that she would now strut, led on her leash, and obey her mistress, do whatever she wanted to do, for whatever use she wanted.
There was a ring at the doorbell. Barely thinking, Rebecca strode down to the front door, not giving her appearance another thought, this was what she was. Her rubber squealed as she moved and Rebecca loved the sound. At the door stood a woman in tight shiny blue leather. She stood on sharp heeled ankle boots. Her shapely thighs were wrapped with a leather miniskirt, her breasts were firm in the shiny cropped leather jacket she wore.
"Follow." She said simply. Rebecca obeyed, the door was closed behind her and she walked to the large car with the tinted windows. The rear door was opened for her. She crawled across the shiny rear seats like a big cat and stretched out lazily, running her hands over her slippery body.
The car drove off but soon stopped, Rebecca barely noticed, her mind was becoming more erotic, and soon she was only concerned with being servile and sexy. The door was opened and Rebecca slid her slinky body from the car. They were outside a plush block of flats. The leathered woman led her into a lift and they rose to the penthouse. Rebecca realised that when she left the lift she would be the property of her mistress. This was not a game, this was her, she was no longer a secretary, she had let herself be transformed into a sex object. Rebecca realised that there was really no turning back and she shuddered excitedly at the thought.
The lift stopped and Rebecca strutted out, the door was opened and she stepped through into the penthouse. It consisted of a large room in dark blue with long swishing curtains covering doors leading off it. There were a few long sofas with a couple of women dressed like her, lying on them, dozing or playing with dildos. As the door closed behind her, Rebecca realised that she was taking another step. Up to now she had thought she had changed, but it could have just been a game, just her dressing up sexily. Now she was beginning to realise that she was ceasing to be a free woman, she had let herself start becoming someone else's property. At the end of the room was a large chair at which Ms. Harrison sat. Her legs were splayed and a rubbered pet was knelt in front of her, licking at her pussy. Ms. Harrison's head was thrown back and she was grunting with the pleasure. Rebecca looked around, thinking she should feel embarrassed, but realising she was part of the scene and as she did could not stop the urge she felt to be at Ms. Harrison's feet licking her out.
To one side Rebecca caught sight of Tyta. She was in a cage and had shed her glossy rubber skin in favour of a tight glossy thong and a slave harness. Her leash was tied to the wall. As she saw Rebecca, Tyta thrust her body out towards her inviting Rebecca to use it. Rebecca tried to resist but found herself strutting uncontrollably over to her fellow sex-slave. She opened the cage door and stepped in. Tyta wrapped herself around Rebecca, running her hands over her newly rubbered body. Rebecca could not resist as her mouth was smothered with Tyta's lips and filled with her tongue. She began to sway with Tyta, she felt so animal, so erotic and she could hear her rubber squealing, reminding her just how erotic she appeared.
Rebecca felt Tyta ease down the crotch zip of her catsuit and felt her fingers stroking deep inside her. The pleasure was great. Rebecca squirmed as she was stimulated, her clit and pussy being fingered, running with juice. Then she felt her breasts released, hard and shiny. They were teased and licked by Tyta. Rebecca grunted and moaned at the pleasure. She knew she was just a sex toy, fucking another woman clad in skin tight rubber, her mind concerned only with sex. She knew she would remain here and become as much a sex-slave as Tyta, erotic and servile. Rebecca shuddered as she orgasmed. Tyta pulled away and Rebecca eased up the zips, sealing herself back into her rubber, the skin-tight gloss she chose to wear.
Rebecca turned to see Ms. Harrison smiling. "I was right you are a sexy bitch. I knew you would come here." Rebecca realised that Ms. Harrison knew her better than she had herself. "There is no turning back, you have turned into a sex-slave, you are now my property, I dress you, I own you, I use you."
"Yes, mistress." Rebecca felt a thrill as she said it for the first time.
"Excellent." Ms. Harrison replied, clearly delighted by her response, her servility. "I will give you your collar name, your only name, Serena."
The new slave swayed in her rubber which seemed to suit her so well. She seemed to be settling herself into her new identity as she had into the glossy second skin than clung to her. "Yes, mistress, I am Serena your sex-slave."
Ms. Harrison smiled and stroked her hand across Serena's slippery bum, she grunted in pleasure, thrusting her pussy forward. Ms. Harrison ran a leathered hand across Serena's body, stroking her breasts briefly. Then she lifted up a leash and locked it to her new sex-slave's collar. Serena eased to the floor, and licked her mistress' boots, running her tongue over the tight red leather, then up her smooth legs to her still naked sex. Serena's tongue penetrated deep and she delighted in serving her mistress licking at her until she felt her shudder with pleasure. She lapped at her mistress's juicy pussy, aroused at being so erotic, so servile. Ms. Harrison shook with orgasm. She signalled Serena to stand and led her by her leash strutting on her sharp heels, her gloss bound bum swaying, her skin-tight rubber squealing.
Serena was led to her own cage. She stepped inside without hesitating. Ms. Harrison tied her leash to a ring fixed on the wall. She then closed the cage and locked it. Serena grunted and thrust her glossed body against the cage bars, like the erotic sex-pet that she was.
Serena awoke, she shook her hair, it was braided, she liked the feel of it, another change which confirmed what she was.
"Ah, Serena." Ms. Harrison said. She wore long red leather boots which stretched to her knees. Then a tight matching outfit which reached her breasts, holding them straining in the leather. A large loose belt sat on her hips. The leash in her hands ran to Tyta's collar. Beside them was a woman with blonde hair braided like Serena's. She stood on sharp heels of glossy ankle boots, buckled tightly. She wore shiny clinging rubber leggings which stretched from her waist to her calves. Above them was just a black leather waistcoat.
"Yes, mistress." Serena said, it was a natural response. She got to her feet and walked to the cage bars. She was intrigued by the newcomer. Serena gently swayed her rubber bound body, hoping to arouse the visitor and tempt her to use her body.
"I have sold you to Karyn, she is now your mistress." Ms. Harrison explained.
Serena purred with pleasure, thrusting her glossed body against the smooth bars aroused by being someone else's property, hungry to please her new owner, Karyn. Ms. Harrison unlocked the cage and untied Serena's leash. She strutted out on her high heels as her leash was handed to Karyn. She walked over to her new pet.
"Still." Karyn commanded but with a warmth.
Karyn crouched down and ran her finger from Serena's shiny heel up her calves, shown tight in the boots, then on to her thighs. Then Karyn stroked both hands over Serena's bum tantalizing her pet. She then moved a hand between Serena's legs to ease down the thin zip, so exposing her naked pussy. Karyn's fingers thrust deep into her and her thumb caressed Serena's clit until she ran moist and she panted, jerking her body uncontrollably.
Serena felt the probing hands sweep across her glossed waist and body until they settled on her aroused breasts. Then she was spun round and her lips parted as Karyn's tongue was forced in. Serena stroked her glossy body up and down her mistress's; both of them writhing in pleasure. Then Karyn broke, shuddering with as she approached orgasm. Serena grunted and shivered as her body was swept with pleasure, her skin-tight rubber just tantalizing her further. She had never felt so erotic.
"Excellent." Karyn said. "A great purchase."
"I am glad you are pleased. I think you made a good selection, she will serve you well."
Serena strutted behind her mistress as she was led from the room on her leash.
This story was initially written in October 2000 long before I had ever encountered Alphax's seminal story 'Presents' or N.M. Hawthorne's 'The Collar', but this story certainly falls into the 'lesbian mistress enslaving women through gifts of collars and rubber clothes left on the doorstep' sub-genre that they created. The first part has subtle mind control, the second part a more direct approach.
Recruitment
by Tang.
Part 1
Rebecca had only been at the job as secretary a few days. It was reasonable working for Mr. Thomas if a little unexciting. One day she was told that they were to have an important client visiting, a Ms. Harrison, but that she was to stay out of the way whilst she was there.
Rebecca sat at her desk and ran through the files in front of her. She realised that Mr. Thomas had left those dealing with the Harrison account with her. Rebecca picked them up and walked to Mr. Thomas's office. She tapped on the door and went in. Mr. Thomas was not there, but Rebecca stopped short as she saw his visitor.
Ms. Harrison was dressed in a skin-tight red leather jumpsuit. She also wore matching sharp heeled boots which stretched to her knees. Her hands were coated with red leather gloves, all the shade of her lipstick. Her hair was blonde and sharply cut. Rebecca hesitated then looked again. Lying at Ms. Harrison's feet was a young, shapely woman, dressed in a shiny black rubber catsuit which clung to her body making it slippery and glossy. She wore matching thigh boots. Her hair too, was cropped tight. At her neck she wore a glossy collar and attached to it was a leash which her mistress fiddled with between her fingers. The pet purred as Ms. Harrison casually stroked her shoulder.
Rebecca was speechless, hesitantly she put the file on Mr. Thomas' desk and began stepping slowly back towards the door.
"You must be Rebecca." Ms. Harrison said cheerfully.
"Y-y-yes." Rebecca said hesitantly, frozen to the spot.
"I see you are fascinated by Tyta, my pet." She spoke calmly. "I know your type, from the moment you came in, from how you are looking now. You can't help wondering if you could be so erotic. Fawning for your mistress." Ms. Harrison emphasized each sentence.
Rebecca stared transfixed. "Imagine your naked body coated in squealing slippery rubber." Ms. Harrison continued then she stopped talking as if letting the image sink into Rebecca's mind. "Erotic and servile. Living for pleasure, unconcerned with everything else."
Rebecca tried to stop herself thinking the thoughts Ms. Harrison was putting so seductively into her mind, almost entrancing her. She glanced down at her own clothes, just to check that she was not somehow becoming like the pet. Then she heard movement behind her. She turned and flushed as Mr. Thomas walked in.
"Erm, ah, Mr. Thomas, I have the file for you on the business with Ms. Harrison..." Rebecca said hesitantly.
"It was so good to meet you, I look forward to seeing you again." Ms. Harrison said as Rebecca edged towards the door.
"Okay, Rebecca. I think you had better go now. I'll handle it." Mr. Thomas said.
Rebecca nodded and slipped from the room. She tried not to, but could not help glancing over at the two women as she closed the door. Rebecca returned to her desk, but was unable to think clearly. She wondered where a woman like Ms. Harrison came from, her lifestyle. Then she heard the other door open. She looked up to see Tyta strutting out of the office. Her rubber squealed and rippled with every step. Rebecca tried to look at her work but within moments had given up any pretence. She stared as Tyta stood still on her high sharp heels, encouraging Rebecca to look at her. Tyta glanced down to the pointed toes of her glossy boots, Rebecca's gaze followed hers, then rose slowly up her shapely legs, every contour shown in the shiny gloss. Her eyes moved past the shiny buckles at her thighs and the thin zip over her naked crotch. Her hands, themselves covered in long glossy gloves, rested on her shapely hips. Rebecca continued working up Tyta's body to her firm breasts, their nipples clearly straining in the rubber. Then she took in the shiny collar at Tyta's neck and her sharply made-up face. Having seen that Rebecca had clearly viewed her body, Tyta began to gently sway, sighing slowly as her body delighted in the rubber that clung to her. She turned her bum to Rebecca, tight and shiny in the gloss. She ran her hands across it, gently stroking, then down between her thighs. Tyta was soon panting and moaning as she moved so erotically. Rebecca just sat entranced by the scene. Then Ms. Harrison came through into the room.
"Having a bit of fun?" She asked her pet. Tyta slowed her moves and strutted swaying in her rubber to her mistress. They kissed passionately, the Ms. Harrison casually ran her hand over her pet's slippery bum, then attached the glossy leash to her collar.
"Did Rebecca watch you, my pet?" Ms. Harrison asked as she looked over to Rebecca.
"Yes, mistress, right through."
"Just as I thought." She walked towards Rebecca, Tyta following behind, led by her leash. "I could make you Tyta's stable mate within minutes. I know you could not resist, admit it, you are as erotic as she is. Come with me."
Rebecca just gulped, she could feel herself rising from her chair and leaving to become Ms. Harrison's sex-slave. She shuddered as she thought of herself as a sex object with skin-tight rubber clinging to her body. Suddenly the intercom unit buzzed and Rebecca let out her breath.
"Yes Mr. Thomas."
"Please come in here, Rebecca."
Rebecca glanced up at Ms. Harrison. The moment had passed and she spoke formally, if hesitantly. "Excuse me. I must go."
"Fine, but I am sure I will see you soon." Ms. Harrison said and strode from the room, Rebecca watched Tyta strutting behind her, her bum swaying sexily. She felt the urge to follow, to yield to the urges aroused in her, to become a glossed sex-slave. She snapped her mind back to her job. She went into her boss's office.
"Ah, Rebecca, just a word. I know Ms. Harrison is an important client, but I think I should handle business with her from now. We don't want you getting tempted by her." He did not look at her directly. "You know she is rather eccentric, and you know some women get affected by people like her. I think you understand."
"Yes, Mr. Thomas." She said, feeling daring even talking about Ms. Harrison and her pet.
Rebecca sat in her bedroom, her pussy still moist from the arousal she had had that day. In her mind she felt herself having swapped with Tyta, herself in the skin-tight rubber strutting behind Ms. Harrison, looking at the plain secretary sitting at the desk. She found it difficult to block the image from her mind. She knew if she ever saw Ms. Harrison again she could not resist becoming her sex-slave. Somehow her body was hungry for the bondage, but now Ms. Harrison was gone, there was no way she could follow up, her chance had passed. She could have been transformed into a horny sex-slave and now it was just a fantasy.
A ring at the front door snapped Rebecca out of her thoughts. She hurried downstairs. When she opened the door there was no-one there just a large parcel, addressed to her. Bemused she brought it into her house. She quickly unwrapped it. The moment she caught sight of the long shiny boots, she knew she would soon be a purring sex-slave, her body would not let her do anything else, she could not resist the transformation. She ached to think of herself, leashed, strutting in her rubber, at her mistress's command, being so erotic, licking out her mistress a she was ordered, unable to disobey, just erotic and servile.
Rebecca eagerly carried the clothes to her bedroom, barely thinking what she was doing. She quickly undressed and stood naked in front of the mirror. She then lifted up the black rubber catsuit and looked at it as caught the light. This was going to be what she wore, showing off every part of her body, showing her servility. Slowly she eased one leg and then the other into the gloss. It was slippery and arousing as it slid across her naked skin, clinging to her body. Soon it coated her bum and she remembered Tyta thrusting out her own. Rebecca quickly slid her arms into the rubber and eased the zip up, sealing her naked body into the shine, watching as her hardening breasts straining against it. Already she felt different, the rubber squealed to her every move and made her body catch the light. She eased her glossed legs into the long boots, she was panting as she buckled each at her thighs. She stood on the sharp heels, knowing she was yielding to her urges and that this was an irreversible process. Finally she slipped her hands into the long shiny gloves and gazed into the mirror.
Rebecca ran her eyes over her own reflection as she had over Tyta's body. She gasped as she watched the light catch the shine of the tight rubber, how it was taut across her body, how her shapely contours were shown by her clothes. She turned side on to admire the shine that clung to her bum and closely followed the line of her thighs. She took time to get to recognise her new self.
Rebecca began strutting across the room, becoming accustomed to the sharp high heels, letting her body yield to the second slippery skin that coated it. She lifted up her legs and twisted her body, delighting in the squeal as the rubber tightened and released, rippling across her body, shaping it to her and shaping herself to it. Within minutes she was comfortable in the slippery, shiny rubber. As it became less of a novelty, it became more arousing. She was becoming a woman suited to the way she was dressed. It was impossible to stop, this was the new her, these were the clothes she wore, from choice, this was the way she looked. Then Rebecca caught sight of a glossy collar at the bottom of the parcel. She picked it up and slowly lifted it to her neck. She hesitated, then closed it, locking it. Now she was truly a glossed sex-slave.
Rebecca was impatient, she was glossed and aroused, hungry to please her mistress. It was clear that Ms. Harrison knew where she was, she had been right that Rebecca was a sexy woman and had released her urges and as a result she had been transformed into an erotic pet. Rebecca knew that she would now strut, led on her leash, and obey her mistress, do whatever she wanted to do, for whatever use she wanted.
There was a ring at the doorbell. Barely thinking, Rebecca strode down to the front door, not giving her appearance another thought, this was what she was. Her rubber squealed as she moved and Rebecca loved the sound. At the door stood a woman in tight shiny blue leather. She stood on sharp heeled ankle boots. Her shapely thighs were wrapped with a leather miniskirt, her breasts were firm in the shiny cropped leather jacket she wore.
"Follow." She said simply. Rebecca obeyed, the door was closed behind her and she walked to the large car with the tinted windows. The rear door was opened for her. She crawled across the shiny rear seats like a big cat and stretched out lazily, running her hands over her slippery body.
The car drove off but soon stopped, Rebecca barely noticed, her mind was becoming more erotic, and soon she was only concerned with being servile and sexy. The door was opened and Rebecca slid her slinky body from the car. They were outside a plush block of flats. The leathered woman led her into a lift and they rose to the penthouse. Rebecca realised that when she left the lift she would be the property of her mistress. This was not a game, this was her, she was no longer a secretary, she had let herself be transformed into a sex object. Rebecca realised that there was really no turning back and she shuddered excitedly at the thought.
The lift stopped and Rebecca strutted out, the door was opened and she stepped through into the penthouse. It consisted of a large room in dark blue with long swishing curtains covering doors leading off it. There were a few long sofas with a couple of women dressed like her, lying on them, dozing or playing with dildos. As the door closed behind her, Rebecca realised that she was taking another step. Up to now she had thought she had changed, but it could have just been a game, just her dressing up sexily. Now she was beginning to realise that she was ceasing to be a free woman, she had let herself start becoming someone else's property. At the end of the room was a large chair at which Ms. Harrison sat. Her legs were splayed and a rubbered pet was knelt in front of her, licking at her pussy. Ms. Harrison's head was thrown back and she was grunting with the pleasure. Rebecca looked around, thinking she should feel embarrassed, but realising she was part of the scene and as she did could not stop the urge she felt to be at Ms. Harrison's feet licking her out.
To one side Rebecca caught sight of Tyta. She was in a cage and had shed her glossy rubber skin in favour of a tight glossy thong and a slave harness. Her leash was tied to the wall. As she saw Rebecca, Tyta thrust her body out towards her inviting Rebecca to use it. Rebecca tried to resist but found herself strutting uncontrollably over to her fellow sex-slave. She opened the cage door and stepped in. Tyta wrapped herself around Rebecca, running her hands over her newly rubbered body. Rebecca could not resist as her mouth was smothered with Tyta's lips and filled with her tongue. She began to sway with Tyta, she felt so animal, so erotic and she could hear her rubber squealing, reminding her just how erotic she appeared.
Rebecca felt Tyta ease down the crotch zip of her catsuit and felt her fingers stroking deep inside her. The pleasure was great. Rebecca squirmed as she was stimulated, her clit and pussy being fingered, running with juice. Then she felt her breasts released, hard and shiny. They were teased and licked by Tyta. Rebecca grunted and moaned at the pleasure. She knew she was just a sex toy, fucking another woman clad in skin tight rubber, her mind concerned only with sex. She knew she would remain here and become as much a sex-slave as Tyta, erotic and servile. Rebecca shuddered as she orgasmed. Tyta pulled away and Rebecca eased up the zips, sealing herself back into her rubber, the skin-tight gloss she chose to wear.
Rebecca turned to see Ms. Harrison smiling. "I was right you are a sexy bitch. I knew you would come here." Rebecca realised that Ms. Harrison knew her better than she had herself. "There is no turning back, you have turned into a sex-slave, you are now my property, I dress you, I own you, I use you."
"Yes, mistress." Rebecca felt a thrill as she said it for the first time.
"Excellent." Ms. Harrison replied, clearly delighted by her response, her servility. "I will give you your collar name, your only name, Serena."
The new slave swayed in her rubber which seemed to suit her so well. She seemed to be settling herself into her new identity as she had into the glossy second skin than clung to her. "Yes, mistress, I am Serena your sex-slave."
Ms. Harrison smiled and stroked her hand across Serena's slippery bum, she grunted in pleasure, thrusting her pussy forward. Ms. Harrison ran a leathered hand across Serena's body, stroking her breasts briefly. Then she lifted up a leash and locked it to her new sex-slave's collar. Serena eased to the floor, and licked her mistress' boots, running her tongue over the tight red leather, then up her smooth legs to her still naked sex. Serena's tongue penetrated deep and she delighted in serving her mistress licking at her until she felt her shudder with pleasure. She lapped at her mistress's juicy pussy, aroused at being so erotic, so servile. Ms. Harrison shook with orgasm. She signalled Serena to stand and led her by her leash strutting on her sharp heels, her gloss bound bum swaying, her skin-tight rubber squealing.
Serena was led to her own cage. She stepped inside without hesitating. Ms. Harrison tied her leash to a ring fixed on the wall. She then closed the cage and locked it. Serena grunted and thrust her glossed body against the cage bars, like the erotic sex-pet that she was.
Serena awoke, she shook her hair, it was braided, she liked the feel of it, another change which confirmed what she was.
"Ah, Serena." Ms. Harrison said. She wore long red leather boots which stretched to her knees. Then a tight matching outfit which reached her breasts, holding them straining in the leather. A large loose belt sat on her hips. The leash in her hands ran to Tyta's collar. Beside them was a woman with blonde hair braided like Serena's. She stood on sharp heels of glossy ankle boots, buckled tightly. She wore shiny clinging rubber leggings which stretched from her waist to her calves. Above them was just a black leather waistcoat.
"Yes, mistress." Serena said, it was a natural response. She got to her feet and walked to the cage bars. She was intrigued by the newcomer. Serena gently swayed her rubber bound body, hoping to arouse the visitor and tempt her to use her body.
"I have sold you to Karyn, she is now your mistress." Ms. Harrison explained.
Serena purred with pleasure, thrusting her glossed body against the smooth bars aroused by being someone else's property, hungry to please her new owner, Karyn. Ms. Harrison unlocked the cage and untied Serena's leash. She strutted out on her high heels as her leash was handed to Karyn. She walked over to her new pet.
"Still." Karyn commanded but with a warmth.
Karyn crouched down and ran her finger from Serena's shiny heel up her calves, shown tight in the boots, then on to her thighs. Then Karyn stroked both hands over Serena's bum tantalizing her pet. She then moved a hand between Serena's legs to ease down the thin zip, so exposing her naked pussy. Karyn's fingers thrust deep into her and her thumb caressed Serena's clit until she ran moist and she panted, jerking her body uncontrollably.
Serena felt the probing hands sweep across her glossed waist and body until they settled on her aroused breasts. Then she was spun round and her lips parted as Karyn's tongue was forced in. Serena stroked her glossy body up and down her mistress's; both of them writhing in pleasure. Then Karyn broke, shuddering with as she approached orgasm. Serena grunted and shivered as her body was swept with pleasure, her skin-tight rubber just tantalizing her further. She had never felt so erotic.
"Excellent." Karyn said. "A great purchase."
"I am glad you are pleased. I think you made a good selection, she will serve you well."
Serena strutted behind her mistress as she was led from the room on her leash.
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