She crossed her legs, and I almost crossed my eyes.

Her gams were perfect — long, lean and adorned with black fishnets that seemed to be studded with shards of diamonds. Was that glitter on her tights? The lights in the room picked up the twinkling sparks dancing on her thighs, but it was the boots she was wearing that had me standing up straighter. I imagined stroking those glossy black boots of hers while we made love, her legs over my shoulders so I could turn my head to the side and breathe in the deeply erotic aroma of well-tanned leather.

“Can I help you?” she asked sharply, and I realized I’d been staring, perhaps even drooling.

I was actually supposed to be helping her. I was working the bar, after all, and she was a paying customer. How could I let her know every time she shifted, all I wanted to do was go down on my hands and knees and worship her beautiful boots?

“I think that’s my line,” I tried, hoping she would be a customer with a sense of humor and not one who would bark at me.

“Then you say it,” she insisted. I caught a glint in her violet-blue eyes. She was playing with me. She was aware I’d been staring, and she knew exactly what I’d been staring at. As I watched, she shifted again, one leg over the other, and I felt my dick twitch.

“Can I help you?” I asked. My voice had gone down deep, a growly query that seemed to throb between us with all sorts of sexual promise. Can I help you get off? Can I help you reach your next world-shaking orgasm?

“I think you can,” she said, “but not here.”

I looked at my watch. I had two more hours until the end of my shift. I had the feeling those were going to be the longest two hours of my life. I told her the time I got off. She grinned at me and said, “And I’m guessing you’ll get off again not much later.” With that, she scribbled on a napkin, paid her tab and slid off the barstool. Dumb with lust, I stared at her note. Her name was Sasha. She’d left her number and told me to call her.

I watched those beautiful legs of hers in those perfect boots walk all the way to the door. I shook my head, trying to clear my dirty thoughts… but then I saw her outside through the window and knew I had to follow. I hurried to my coworker and said, “It’s slow. I have a massive” — erection — “headache. Can you handle the rest of the shift without me?”

Joe didn’t look pleased, but he did know I’d owe him. He nodded, and I shucked my apron, grabbed my jacket and sprinted away. I caught up with Sasha at the corner. She didn’t seem surprised to see me.

“Can I help you?” she asked, and there was a low rumble of humor in her tone.

“That’s my line,” I reminded her.

“What’s your next one?”

“Your place or mine?”

“That depends, you know.” She was staring at me. I wondered what it would depend on. “On proximity,” she finished.

“I live across the way,” I said, indicating the apartment building.

“Your place,” she said, and we were walking together, hand in hand. I felt excitement growing inside me as I listened to the sound of her boots on the pavement. I live in a third-floor walkup. Those boots of hers click-clacked on every wooden step.

“I saw you looking,” she said. “Saw you staring at my legs.”

“Your boots,” I agreed.

“So you want me to keep them on?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” I told her.

“And the tights?”

“How attached are you to them?”

She stopped me on the stairwell and pushed her body against mine.

“I like them, but I wouldn’t mind if you… ” Then she took my hand and drew my fingers into the netting. She showed me how she wanted me to tear it. I did exactly as she’d demonstrated, and we both seemed to hold our breath as the fine fabric gave way. The sound of the tearing fishnet made my dick even harder than it had been already.

“I like them,” she echoed, “but I’ll like them even more in tatters.”

I had to get her inside my apartment to avoid the two of us having sex on the stairs. That wouldn’t have been too bad, I supposed. But I wasn’t ready to be evicted just yet.

We barely made it into my place, and then we simply went at it in my small living room. She tossed off her lightweight coat and pulled off her dress. I dropped to my knees in front of her and began to stroke those mesmerizing boots. She unclasped her bra and let it fall free. I tore the sparkling stockings until she was standing there in only the boots, a pair of shiny black panties and the shredded remains of what had once been fantastic fishnets.

“Fuck me,” she urged. “Fuck me now.”

I had her down on the floor, and I continued to palm her boots as I kissed my way up her thighs. She groaned and arched, and her hips beat against the soft gray carpet. Her knees were bent, her thighs spread wide. I pressed my face to the gusset of her panties. She tugged them aside to reveal her shaved split. I licked her clit while still stroking her boots. “Fuck me!” she said once more, her voice a desperate whisper. I was getting to her with my tongue. I could tell.

“I want to touch your boots while I’m in you,” I confessed, tearing the panties off her.

“I did as she told me. I knelt before her and my hand worked piston-fast on my dick.”

We ended up with her thighs over my shoulders, exactly as I’d imagined. I directed my cock to her hole, already aware of how wet she was from my sojourn between her thighs. The flutters of the fishnet fabric enhanced my experience as I drove my cock home. She tightened and released on my pole while I held her boots. I turned my head and breathed in the aromatic scent of leather mixed with her mouth-watering musk.

“You feel so good,” she purred as I worked her.

“You smell so good,” I countered, unable to stop myself from breathing in deep. Then I did something totally unexpected. I licked her boot. She watched me with wide-open eyes. She didn’t tell me to stop, didn’t ask what I thought I was doing. I bit the leather, winning myself a tangy taste. She moaned. That was all I needed to free my inner beast. I licked and bit those boots as I continued to fuck her with every ounce of my power. She watched me intently the whole time, and the look on her face, whenever I turned to observe her, was one of total bliss. She was as into me adoring her boots as I was into worshiping them.

Then she said the words I hadn’t even dared to think about or even consider: “You can come on them if you want.”

I froze.

“Really,” she said, and she was starting to move as she spoke, readjusting our positions. My cock slid free of the glorious confines of her pussy. She stood and looked down on me, as disheveled now as she had been pristine at the bar. “Come on them,” she urged. “Jerk your dick and shoot. I want to see you do it. I want to see your cream stripe my shiny boots.”

I shuddered at her words. I was so turned on I couldn’t even think straight. Was this really happening? Had I met a sex goddess who not only was too stunning for words but who also shared my number-one fetish? I did as she told me. I knelt before her and my hand worked piston-fast on my dick. I had plenty of lube from her pussy juices to ease the ride. She kept up a steady stream of encouragement, telling me how sexy it would be to see my load all over her leather.

“The only thing sexier,” she whispered, “would be to watch you clean those boots — with your tongue.”

That did it. I came like a firehose, shooting rope after rope of semen across the glossy black boots. Sasha ruffled my hair and stroked my face. Then she said, “Okay, baby. Get to work.”

That was the start of a perfect night… and a beautiful relationship. We make a perfect pair.