I never knew what to expect.
We had been friends for a long time. I loved her style of flair, and even though she was only 3 years younger than me, sometimes she seemed many years my senior.
We met through a friend at a night club, and I was amazed at her style and pizzazz from the beginning. Had I had the nerve to do as she did, I would. However, I have always been bad with money, and a glandular problem has always made my stomach extend past my shoes, more than I have ever liked.
She was light-hearted, fun, honest, and had many other attributes that I admired. It didn't hurt that she was a looker, and did not have an ego that she knew it and was out to make everyone else know that she did.
Raven black hair hung from her head. Eyes that looked into your soul and seemed to tell you that she could determine whether you were a decent man or not from the get go. Skin as smooth, and almost as white as pure ivory. Her tiny frame could do nothing to hold back the ample, yet not over abundant, cleavage. You could not pigeon-hole her into a specific style, because it changed every time you saw her.
One night, she was dressed as a vampire goddess, another night, a punk chick minus the shaved or multicoloured hair. It always looked good on her, and even if she showed up wearing a burlap sack from Idaho, you would find yourself wishing you were a potato.
We never had contact outside of the club we both frequented. This only served in my desire to know her more. All of our communication was done through mutual friends. Until that fateful night that I never expected.
I was an amateur writer, and my biggest vice was wine. I know it is sad, but I found that a few glasses of the grapey nectar helped my creative juices flow. One night at the club we were discussing our plans for the weekend, and I told her that because I had been suffering from a case of writers block, I had purchased a few bottles and was planning on secluding myself in my den and using them up as I wrote a few pages for my latest attempt at creating.
I had been at my desk for a while and the half bottle of red had not really helped in creating anything. I was stunned to hear my doorbell ring. I was expecting no visitors, or packages. I was instantly embarrassed when I opened the door in only my knickers and found her at my door. I ducked behind the door and apologized for my lack of garments. She smirked and simply walked in.
She swept past me and placed herself in the middle of the living room. She stood there with one of her hands on her hips; the other was partially hidden behind her back. Her hair was hanging straight down. She tossed her cloak on the chair revealing her black and silver corset that showed how ample her cleavage could be. A matching ultra mini skirt that flowed from her body showed that her stockings were held up by straps that were either attached to the corset, or a garter belt. Black high heels made the outfit one of pure desire, but the topper was the mesh fingerless gloves that came up past her elbows. God, this was enticing and I was happy that I was wearing black silk boxers. A thong on me would have seemed unsexy at this point.
"I have had enough of the testing at the club and have come to inform you that you may be worthy to join a special clique within our little group. You have met about 10 of us in the club, and there are only 3 who are in this special group."
