He goes weak in the knees for a beauty in boots. She likes her leather worshipped from toe to tip. Together, they’re a sole — match made in heaven.

“Look over there,” Ted said, nudging me with his elbow and pointing to a stunning blonde seated one table over from us. “She’s a stone — cold fox, isn’t she?”

I looked where he was looking — then past where he was looking. Yes, the woman he’d mentioned was attractive, blonde and slim in a blue V — neck dress that revealed her cleavage to perfection. But next to her, sat the boots of my dreams. I mean, the girl of my dreams. In the boots of my dreams.

The wearer was damn hot. A slinky brunette in a wraparound dress the color of crushed cranberries. She possessed a slightly untouchable air that I found oddly enticing. But it was her boots — those dangerous leather boots — that made me swallow hard and sit up straighter. Her boots were midnight black, glossy as fuck, outfitted with silver hardware and buckles at the top. As if to emphasize their power, the woman had on fishnet hose in the same red of her dress, which served as a beacon to me, an artsy arrow pointing to the boots below.

Ted made eyes at the platinum blonde. I stared longingly at her neighbor, fantasizing about all the different things I wanted to do to the brunette beauty and her brilliant boots. I could imagine her on top of me, a boot on either side of my torso as she rode me to our mutual climaxes. Next, I pictured the two of us in a 69, so that I could stroke her sleek footwear while I toggled her clit with my tongue. When I breathed in deep, I’d be able to smell her scent mingling with the primal erotic aroma of leather.

By the time Ted stood up, I realized that I had to get myself under control. I wouldn’t make a good impression if I was too visibly far gone due to my fetish.

“I’m going to ask if they’ll join us,” Ted told me. I didn’t stop him. He’s a charmer. In minutes, the ladies had indeed joined us. Ted began to chat with his chosen girl, and I turned all of my attention to the boots and their owner who seemed totally aware of my infatuation. My obsession, if you will.

She put out a hand to me, and I shook it and introduced myself.

“This goddess was stroking my dick as if she’d held it in her hand every day.”

“Hi, Hal,” she smiled. “I’m Vivica. I noticed you noticing me.”

“You wear those often?” I asked, staring at the black leather — at the way it caressed her calves and hugged her legs perfectly.

She smirked. “I thought the line was, ‘Do you come here often?’”

“Who needs a line with boots like that?” I countered.

“You were definitely appraising them earlier,” she said. “You have a thing for leather or boots specifically or” — she raised her eyebrows at me as she simultaneously lowered her voice — “for making love to a woman who’s only wearing boots like these?”

I couldn’t believe what she’d said at first. I decided that I must have misheard, my fantasy clouding my brain and making me hear what I wanted to hear. She leaned in, and her leg began rubbing against mine, ever so lightly, ever so seductively. I couldn’t feel the leather of her boots through my slacks, of course, but that exotic pressure of the hide against my pants made my dick hard in a heartbeat.

This wouldn’t do. How could I be suave with a woody like —

Her hand was on my dick. Was I dreaming? I looked wild — eyed at Ted and his girl. They seemed to be chatting about the weather — the weather! — while this vixen next to me was cradling my cock through my slacks. Her fingers tripped over my hard — on. I knew nobody could see what she was doing, but that didn’t stop me from reeling from the sensation. This goddess was stroking my dick as if she’d held it in her hand every day.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said coyly.

“What question?” I babbled. What question had she asked? Had she actually asked me a question? Her boot was against my leg. Her hand was in my lap. Ted was saying something innocent about the wonders of sunscreen, and I almost started to laugh. My side of the table beat his side, hands down. And speaking of hands, Vivica’s were on their way to unzipping my pants. I put my hand on top of hers to stop her. I wasn’t prepared to be exposed so soon.

She leaned in even closer, pressed her lips to my ear and said, “If you’re ready to ditch this dive, you can answer that question at my house. I have something I’d like to show you. Something I think you’re going to want to see.”

I nodded automatically, made an excuse to Ted about the two of us catching up later, and ushered Vivica out of the bar. In motion, she was even more breathtaking. Her dress caressed her curves as if the fabric was in lust with her body. I understood the dress’s desires. I, for one, was in lust with her body, as well.

The ride to her place was the most exquisite form of agony. Vivica sat at my side, and she crossed her legs sensuously and then let one of her hands stroke over the leather of her boots. I watched her hand move whenever I could. At stoplights, I stared openly. As I drove, I caught glimpses from the corner of my eye. Those boots seemed to have been made for her. They fit her with heavenly perfection, molded to her calves, reaching her delicate knees and hugging her like a second skin. If we hadn’t been in the car, I would have been all over her, manhandling her. It was lucky for me we hadn’t taken public transport.

We chatted on the ride, but mostly, I remained mildly tongue — tied because she continued to steer the conversation to boots. To her boots. To the way those boots would feel against my body. No matter how she began a story, the end involved her boots and me. At one point, she explained that she was an art director at a local publication.

“That’s an interesting job,” I said. “What exactly do you do?”

As she explained, she casually digressed into details that I found maddeningly arousing.

“And I had this late afternoon meeting. Something I had to look presentable for, you know?”

“Of course.”

“So I chose to wear this dress and these boots. You like these boots, don’t you, Hal?”

“God, yes.”

“And I was at this meeting, in my boots — these boots. You’re going to fuck me in these boots, aren’t you, Hal?”

“Please, yes.”

Then back she returned to telling me about her day, her meeting, the way the boots had felt against her skin, how men had watched her walk down the hall, how I had watched her at the bar. How she’d been horny all day long, and all she’d wanted to do was find someone who appreciated her gorgeous boots even half as much as she did.

“Twice as much,” I interrupted when I couldn’t stand the teasing any longer.

“Twice as much?” she echoed, and there was a challenge in her voice. “How do you come up with that?”

“You’re wearing them,” I said, finding a little bit of my power somewhere. “You’re getting some satisfaction, I’m sure, from the way they feel on your body. But you don’t get to see them on you, not the way I do. It’s the pleasure of the observer, the way a performer can never fully appreciate a play he or she stars in. You don’t get to see the whole picture.”

“So paint it for me.”

“Those boots are captivating,” I said, “magically so. The way you move in them makes them almost seem like an extension of your body. Of your” — I hesitated, but we’d definitely crossed a line early in the evening, so what did I have to lose? — “of your sexuality.”

“Mmmm,” she sighed and shifted one boot against the other. “I like that. Tell me more.”

She’d been driving the conversation so far. I decided it was my turn to take the wheel. To take the driver’s seat.

“Vivica leaned against the wall and let me orally worship her footwear.”

“I think those boots give you a type of power,” I said.

“You see me as a super hero?”

I shrugged. “Why did you choose those boots to wear for your special meeting today?”

She pondered the query. As she did, she stroked the supple shaft of her boot. I could imagine her fingertips stroking my cock the same way, her naked skin on my naked skin. And I could almost feel the leather of her boots under my palms. We were interconnected, the two of us. It had happened so fast — strangers in a bar who had come together because of one kinky fetish.

‘"They make me feel strong,” she said. “You’re right. I could have chosen high heels. Or a sensible pair of loafers. But I wanted to stride into that boardroom today and make an impact.”

Under her direction, we’d reached her house, and I pulled the car over and looked at her. “When we get inside,” I said, “I want you to wear nothing but the boots. Can you do that for me? Will you do that for me?”

She nodded, and then we hurried together into her place. From the second we were inside, it was as if a starting gun had gone off. There was a rush, a race, a palpable energy that was unstoppable. She tore her dress off. I hurried out of my shirt and slacks. She lost her stockings. I stripped off my boxers. We were naked in no time, but Vivica did as I asked. She slid those boots right back on and then cocked a hip at me.

“Oh, lady,” I said. “You are everything I’ve ever fantasized about.”

She grinned.

“From the ground up,” I said, and I went on my knees in front of her and began to kiss and stroke the tips of her boots. She sighed as if my mouth were caressing her skin rather than her polished hide. I didn’t mind supplicating myself in this manner. Her boots were worthy of my adoration. Vivica leaned against the wall and let me orally worship her footwear. It was almost as if we had to get that out of the way first. Then we could learn about each other’s bodies.

I pulled her down on the floor with me, and we rolled around for a moment before finding the perfect position: me on my back and her astride me, exactly as I’d pictured in the bar. In this configuration, I could feel her boots against my skin, but I could also look at her lovely face and cup her pert breasts as she rode my cock. She seemed as moved by my motion as I was by hers. I rocked her back and forth, my hands on her hips as I ground into her from below. Soon, she took over, moving herself on my staff. As she slid up and down my rod, those boots — those wicked boots — worked their magic on me. I had to close my eyes and simply bask in the sensations for a moment. The feel of the leather against my skin as her warm, wet pussy enveloped me was almost too much to bear.

Then things got better still.

Vivica came.

I felt her muscles tighten and release around my dick. The experience, learning how she felt from the inside out for the very first time, was breathtaking. I continued to pump into her, raising her in the air with each thrust of my hips as she climaxed. She was loud, crying out her pleasure, so that her moans and sighs seemed to reverberate in the air around us. Then slowly, she sank down again. She stilled for a moment, smiling at me. My dick was still as hard as wood inside her, my breath coming at a rapid pace.

“Oh, fuck,” she exclaimed, smiling more broadly. “I needed that. You have no idea, Hal. No idea at all.” Then she looked at me and understanding crossed her comely features. She was at peace. I was still ramped and ready. Ecstasy hadn’t called my name yet.

“As she slid up and down my rod, those wicked boots worked their magic on me.”

“Let’s see what we can do for you,” she said, and she slid off my cock and moved so that we were in a 69. I had her beautiful pussy in front of me and her boots on either side of my head. This was nirvana. The fragrance of expensive leather delighted my senses, and the luxurious scent mingled perfectly with that of Vivica’s pussy. I took a moment to breathe in, to really appreciate where I was. The sensuous perfume. The feminine musk and the leather. I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. Then I was luckier still as Vivica captured my straining dick in her mouth and began to suck the head.

Oh, lord. That was the capper. I thrashed under her ministrations, feeling as if someone had placed the cherry on my sundae.

Vivica’s mouth was a welcoming place. She hummed under her breath as she began to slowly lower her lips down my shaft. I remained as motionless as possible. One part of me wanted to start banging away at her mouth, deep — throating from below. But I had the feeling that if I let her do the work, I’d receive my pleasure in droves. And I was right. Vivica was a tease. She taunted me with her tongue. She traced sensuous designs along my rod as she bobbed her head. I started to slowly stroke her leather boots in tandem with the rhythm of her mouth. As she moved down my cock, I caressed the part of her boots that were closest to my head. Then when she pulled up, I let my hands slide toward her knees. I felt as if I were assisting in some way. I had the distinct feeling that Vivica was as much a leather boot fetishist as I was, and that, in some way, my worshipping her footwear turned her on as much as it did me.

She paused for air, and I paused my hands. When she resumed, she was like a machine, pumping, sucking and draining, and I had to hold on tight to stay anchored to this stratosphere. She was bringing me too much pleasure. Some had to spill out in some way. That way was my tongue. I focused on her pussy then, positioned perfectly in front of my face, and I licked at her split with force and desire. Vivica’s hums turned to moans, but she didn’t release me. Thankfully, she stayed on task, continuing the delicious, delirious motions of her mouth on my manhood until I couldn’t take anymore. Not another second. Not another lick. I pulled my head back and alerted her.

“I’m going to come, baby. I’m going to come so hard.”

She had a choice. She could back up, and we could both watch me shoot. Or she could do what she did: clamp her lips around me and suck harder still, suck for all she was worth. I erupted, filling her mouth with my copious semen. She swallowed with finesse, capturing every drop, then sliding off me and licking her lips with supreme satisfaction. There we were, sticky and demolished, hardly in her apartment at all. We had come undone together, but there was more to be had. More pleasure to swallow.

Vivica stood and beckoned me to follow her down the hall. Stripped of her clothes, she looked like a goddess. She was curvy in all the right places, lean and taut in the others. Naked in those boots is how I always wanted her to be. She took me to her bedroom and settled herself in the center of a large California king. I waited for instructions, sensing she desired me a certain way. I was right.

“Fuck me like this, Hal,” she said, and she motioned for me to join her in the bed. As soon as I did, she positioned herself with her legs over my shoulders. Oh, sweet heaven. Now, I was in her, facing her, and feeling the leather boots on my naked skin. This woman had my number dialed. She knew every kink that I kept secret in my private playbook. She rubbed her legs along my flesh. I sighed and thrust, filling her to the brim with my cock.

“The drawer,” she whispered. I looked where she was pointing, and I leaned over her to pull out the drawer in question. Inside was a large pair of leather gloves. Dear me, the sweet thing was kinkier still.

“Put them on,” she begged, and I did, never breaking our connection. Now we each had on leather gear, and the power flowed freely and unhindered. As I fucked Vivica, I started to stroke her clit with my leather — clad fingertips. She continued to slide her legs to and fro, so that the leather of her lovely boots positively caressed my naked back.

“That’s right,” she whimpered when I touched her clit straight on. “I love the way the leather feels.”

We were soulmates, and sole — mates, so marvelously matched. Two lovers of leather, all lathered in lust. I closed my eyes and ground my hips against her, taking her as deep as I could. She slid her legs down and anchored me with her thighs clasped, her boots locked behind my waist. I played with her clit between my gloved thumb and forefinger until she cried out and begged for mercy.

Mercy?

Not here. Not now. I continued to toy with her until I felt the orgasm build inside her body. Felt her hold her breath. I opened my eyes then and stared into her stunning face, all flushed with heat and desire, with untamed emotion.

When she came, I felt her pussy gripping me. She brought me with her, my own orgasm sparked by the intensity of hers. I jammed myself into her until our bodies couldn’t fit any tighter. I bucked again and again, unable to stop myself, not wanting to stop at all. The climax was so intense that I was robbed of speech, of thought. My whole being was electrified by the sheer joy of what had happened. Slowly, so slowly, the pleasure ebbed, and I collapsed against her, pinning her to the bed as the sweet ripples of release continued to race through me.

“Oh, fuck, Hal,” Vivica sighed. “That was exactly what I needed.”

She sat up and unzipped her boots. I pulled the gloves free and set them on the nightstand.

“Now, I have something else to show you,” she said. “Remember? Remember what I said at the bar?”

“Your etchings?” I teased.

“Not quite.”

She stood in her post — coital glory, a Venus wrapped in wrinkled bedsheets, and she moved to a closet set into the far wall. When she opened the door, I was the one to sigh. Floor to ceiling, row upon row, were the boots of my dreams. Every color. Every style. Would each pair take us on a different journey, bring us to new levels of carnal creativity? I didn’t know. But I was ready and willing to take the next step.