The Weekend

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000

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.

The Path to Slavery

Thu, 15 Mar 2007 00:00:00 +0000

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.

Rubber Chloe on Gromet's Plaza Archive

The Weekend

The Path to Slavery