He hated this hour, the long, monotonous hour before closing time, made even more unbearable today because Cynthia, his manager, had left him alone to close up shop. Not even her constant harping to keep him company and customers were few and far between, bustling past without a sideways glance, to make it home before the early dark of a cold winter's evening.

As he returned from the storeroom he saw her. Petite, her long, light brown hair a river down her back, examining the red satin stilettos… mmm... good taste, he thought. Those shoes were definitely his favorite of all their present stock.

He approached her from behind. Her perfume was intoxicating, tendrils of musky scent danced around her, enticing. Her hands were small, long fingernails unpainted but immaculate. She had removed her gloves to gently stroke the cold, soft satin along the arch of the shoe and feel its weight in her palm.

“Can I help you?”

She turned, smiling. “Do you have these in a size 5?” Her eyes were extraordinary, blue, not the sweet blue of childhood innocence, but blue ice, almost feline in shape. And her accent, what was that? Not English... Australian maybe, a voice more husky and deep than one would anticipate from such a tiny creature.

“I’ll check out back, I’m sure there’s one pair in stock.”

He returned with the red satin stilettos, size 5, to find her seated and bent forward, untying her lace-up knee-high leather boots with a practiced, deft hand. As the black leather slowly unfolded from her calf, he saw them. His groin suddenly ached. They were sheer, so very sheer that he could clearly see the lone freckle on the inside of her left calf muscle. But how they shimmered, each tiny subtle turn of ankle and leg, caught the light. On his knees, he was mesmerized.

Without shifting his gaze from glimmer of her calves, he removed one red shoe from its box and presented it before her, a sexy satin offering. It was then he caught it, the slight dilation of her pupils, and a flicker of tongue along her top lip. She loves these shoes! Her sharp intake of breathe, palpable excitation.

He knew then he could have her and how.

He reached his right hand round the back of her right calf, fingertips leading palm down her leg to rest under the arch of her small foot and raised it closer. His hand was electrified by the feel of the silk, the shape of her leg and she felt the tingling intensity of his repressed shiver.

He watched her hands reach down and slide under her upper thighs to allow her to raise her leg from the chair. Her skirt fell back from her raised knee to reveal his first tantalizing glimpse of a shimmering thigh, and his first encounter with the pungency of the essential her.

With reverence, an artful hand guided the shoe slowly onto her foot and he raised her leg higher still to fasten the clasp around her slim ankle. The fit was perfect. His strong hand gripped her ankle guiding her leg up and onto his shoulder forcing her legs to spread wider still. The beautiful valley between her upper thighs suddenly revealed a million secrets. They were pantyhose, not stockings, and he suddenly imagined her bending over in front of him, the glorious curves of her ass accentuated by the play of light on the sheer glimmering hosiery.

The most priceless secret of all however, was underneath the long beautiful line of the seam, her swollen clitoris! She wore no underwear.

In that moment he wanted to not only have her, but to be her: to feel every step in every day, the gentle rubbing of the silk, the harder edge of the silken seam. His cock throbbed hard and he let out an involuntary moan.

Visibly amused, she met his gaze then and smiled. She was hungry. She reached forward and grabbed his hair, forcing his cheek to her upper thigh, where he felt her quiver underneath her sheer sheath of silk. His hands devoured her thighs, everywhere at once, stroking, kneading her silk encased flesh. His lips brushed the silk and he wanted to eat her but not yet.

Reaching behind him he removed the other shoe from the box without lifting his head, her wet, silken vulva just inches from his eyes, her scent, woody and deep.

Slowly, he ran the long slender length of the stiletto heel gently down the length of her leg from her ankle suspended on his shoulder, tracing the outline of her shapely calf then slowly down her thigh to the seam, then along the line of the seam of the pantyhose between her legs, back and forth, slowly and gently. He stopped, only to bring his lips to her enmeshed vulva and gently expelled a warm stream of breath onto her already swollen clit. She began to whimper.

He then began to massage her clit with the satiny heel, grinding in small circular motions, her hips rising involuntarily to meet his ever increasing pressure, her wetness apparent as the heel slowly stained a darker, richer red. She was impatient for climax and he allows her this indulgence. Placing both her small hands on his, she dictated the pressure and the rhythm, forcing the satin heel hard up against her, grinding hard up against it. She was lost in her own reverie, audibly moaning, her breathing hard.

Before him, she was weak and vulnerable, and he finally stole the moment to take his own pleasure in her. Lifting her up into his arms, he took her to the service counter, where he let her down, turnsled her back to him and forced her face first to bend over the bench, her arms outstretched, her thighs clenched tight.

There before him, a sight worth dying for, her glorious ass, shimmering in silk in the shop lights.

Finally, he undid his jeans and with throbbing cock in hand; he traced the line where the cheeks of her butt met. He rammed it hard between her clenched thighs.

This is what he had been waiting for, the feel of silk against the tip of his cock…

And with both hands holding her hips firm, he pounded her malleable shimmering flesh, fucking hard her silk encased thighs. She squeezed them together to heighten his arousal, her moaning, audible encouragement to continue, he could feel her wet, pulsating cunt, salivating for him… until, his head spinning, he came with violent force.

Spent of all energy, he collapsed over her on the bench, breathing the scent of her perfume and sex.

Then, raising his head, he saw her. Tall, blonde, and beautiful, pressed hard against the shop window. They had been watched! His momentary panic at being caught however suddenly subsided. This beautiful woman, her hand gently stroking her own angora-clad nipples so visible, so hard, met his gaze with a smile that hinted of intrigue and promise and as his eyes traverse the whole of her he sees them, black fishnets!