It was about eight and the sun was gliding behind the horizon as she slipped on her heels and admired her outline in the mirror that hung at the end of her bed. Her dress sat tightly but comfortably against her hips and clung to her thighs, her stockinged legs shone in the reflected light of the candles on her dresser. The modestly scooped neckline showed off the curve of her modestly sized breasts and did a good job of allowing one to imagine their full unclothed potential. She turned slightly and considered her taut behind, not bad for a woman no longer in the full prime of her youth but ripened to perfection. She could see the outline of her knickers and decided that just for tonight she would go without, she bent her knees slightly and pulled them down gracefully, enjoying the freedom and the slightly wicked feel that it gave her to be so exposed. She draped the slight silk lingerie on the foot of her opulent double bed.
She wasn't expecting to be picked up until nine and was surprised to hear an engine outside. It wasn't the usual car, she realised with a slight thumping of her heart, but a large and powerful sounding motorbike. That wasn't really her friend's style -- he was a man of conservative tastes, largely good hearted but also quite dull to be honest -- they were going out together mainly out of convenience. She glanced down at the window and in the half light she saw a shadow as the engine revved to a standstill and the rider dismounted, he was wearing full leathers and in this light, although she wasn't totally sure, he looked different from her intended assignation.
She hesitated, the door downstairs was unlocked and open, it had been a humid day and was threatening to be a sticky night. For a moment her hand reached for her phone, but as she heard the door click shut, presumably behind her visitor, she stopped herself. The footsteps on the stairs didn't sound quite right, heavier yet more graceful, like a dancers, than she had expected. She looked into the mirror and saw herself in the candlelight, she had just applied her lipstick and the red gloss across her lips made her look more confident than she felt right then. The door opened with barely a sound and she saw him standing there, immediately it was apparent that this was not the person she was expecting.
He was taller, slimmer, dressed head to toe in black smooth leather, black gloves and still wearing the silk balaclava that bikers wore underneath their helmets, just his eyes and mouth showing. His boots accounted for the heavier footsteps. He smelt of leather,oil and smoke, masculine smells, heat seemed to radiate from him. She could just about discern the faint scent of a cologne, a cologne that she recognised but couldn't be sure of, somewhere in the past she'd smelt it before. Despite his appearance she felt unthreatened, also aware that she was breathing heavily, her pulse quickening, her imagination running ahead of her, her breasts starting to heave and her pupils dilating.
He didn't say a word but just stood there.
"Are you my escort....?" She asked after what seemed a delicious age.
He still didn't reply. "Well, did James send you to pick me up?" She took a step closer, still no words from behind that mask. His eyes glanced to the foot of the bed where the discarded knickers hung.