She was a vision from behind. Her long curly hair fell down her back in golden-brown and raven ringlets to brush the tops of her black leather chaps. Her bottom was bare, thrust out of the tight leather leggings, round and full and firm. The bare skin was a deep, latte brown. High-heeled platform boots peeked out from beneath the bottom cuffs of the tight chaps that hugged her thighs and calves, outlining the muscles of her strong, long and slender legs.
But it was when she turned that I knew this was one I had to have, if I could. She faced my direction and nonchalantly leaned against the pillar, looking idly off at Club X’s dance floor. I could see now she wore a slave harness that been obscured by her long hair from behind. But when she turned to me I could see how the black leather straps framed her delicate breasts, making an “X” in her cleavage. In her navel she wore a large, dangling gem that shimmered in the club light as she moved her hips slowly with the rhythm of the ...
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