Rubber Chloe

Early Saturday morning, phone rings…. “Chloe?” “Yes?” “It’s James.” “‘Oh Hi, how are you?” “Fine. Listen I am in London tonight, trade show I couldn’t go but I have a big contract to finish up, hotels booked for tonight. I’ll be coming down on the train, want to meet somewhere?” “Yes why not,” A lift in your voice as we swap details… The scene shifts to a club of your choice and I enter, I have never been out in London before, the cab driver was helpful running against type. I am dressed in a black shirt & black slacks, dumb on a hot night maybe but black has a certain quality I admire, you ever watch sex in the city? Mr. Big now he could wear a shirt. I walk to the bar and assess the surroundings. Then I see you outlined at the end of the bar leaning against it, shoulder resting against it holding your drink, your breasts filling a gorgeous short dress, your legs showing below the short hemmed skirt, your eyes penetrating the gloom and noise, the music stops abruptly groans from a thousand dancers as the costafuckingfortune PA kicks out for a while, over the groans I call your name. ...

CH 1 - The Shop Chloe was an average 21-year-old lady but of Swedish origin her body was like a Greek goddess’. Men drooled over her 5'11" body her 36c-24-35 curves, lovely green eyes, luscious golden tan and her very sexy seductive Swedish accent. She lived in a normal house and drove a BMW Z3 in blinding yellow. She was a single spirit and men loved her for it. She would always go to the clubs wearing knee high boots, a short skirt and a low cut Morgan top. She had heard all the chat up lines and all the pulling methods she had fucked about 7 blokes and 2 women. A friend once suggested she should try fetish wear like rubber but she hated it and never tried it again. ...