Steffie... 2.0
Chapter 6
Later that day Ethan and I were lounging on the couch, a pizza box open between us. The soft, smoky tones of Diana Krall's voice drifted through the room, the gentle rhythm of the piano around me. I closed my eyes and in my mind's eye, I saw her again like I did in Montreal years ago at the Jazz Festival: poised at the piano, her sexy legs, her high heels catching the stage lights. Her presence was magnetic, each note underscored by the quiet strength in her posture. The way her foot might press against the pedal, the curve of her shapely calf and leg.
Ethan leaned back, a slice of pizza in his hand, his expression thoughtful but charged with something unspoken. "You know, there's something I've been wanting to share with you," he began, his tone casual but deliberate.
I arched an eyebrow, taking a sip of my beer. "Oh? Do tell."
He hesitated for a beat, then said, "I have this... fascination, a sort of fetish, I guess. It's about stalking, well, not in a dangerous or creepy way," he quickly clarified. "It's more like the thrill of the chase, the buildup of tension, and how it all culminates in something very dramatic and sensual."
I blinked, slightly surprised, but intrigued. "Like, role-playing scenarios?"
"Exactly but on a much deeper level. It's all about creating a story, stepping into the roles, and making it as realistic as possible. That's what I was thinking while looking at Celeste's broken leg, I was thinking of the movie Mad Mom earlier. There's this one scene that's always stuck with me."
"Go on," I murmured, my voice low and laced with curiosity as I leaned forward, my eyes locking with his and I kissed him. I knew exactly which movie he was referring to, and the intrigue in his expression mirrored my own. Slowly, deliberately, I shifted in my seat, the soft rustle of fabric accompanying the movement as I stretched my long legs out toward him.
With a subtle, teasing motion, I rested my right leg across his lap, the arch of my foot brushing against his thigh. My yoga pants caught the light, accentuating the curve of my calf as it draped over him. My left leg followed, crossing gracefully over the first, my pointed toe extending slightly as if to draw his attention. The slight pressure of my heels against his leg teased his penis, grounding the moment with an intimate weight and hardness.
Ethan's gaze flicked down, his hands instinctively settling on my ankles, the warmth of his touch a contrast to the cool air. His fingers lingered for a moment, tracing the edge of my toes and foot slightly bending my ankle, as if silently appreciating the picture I'd created.
He let go of my ankle and foot for now, "Okay, imagine this. In our version of the movie, you'd play Emma Stone, you know, sexy red hair, confident, with those irresistible legs. You'd wear a red wig, a very short cocktail dress. You come home, walk up the stairs, heels clicking on the wood. The tension builds as you sense something isn't right."
I smiled and licked my lips. "And then?"
"And then," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "you're pushed over the balcony. But, of course, safely, totally safe," he added quickly, his hands gesturing for emphasis.
"We'd choreograph it perfectly so it looks dramatic but doesn't actually hurt you in soft inflated landing. The idea is that it results in a realistic leg break, and you'd spend six weeks in a term rec cast and on crutches. It'd be like stepping into a movie scene, immersive and unforgettable."
There was something undeniably compelling about it. "So, let me get this straight. You want to recreate a scene where I'm your favorite actress, Emma Stone, only to end up with a broken leg, full leg cast and you take care of me for 6 weeks or do you do like that crazy nurse in the movie?"
"It's a surprise"
I shook my head in amusement, setting my beer down, I rubbed his fully erected penis with my left foot feeling some pre-cum.
"You're something else, Ethan. But you have my attention." The room buzzed with a strange, very sexual electric energy as we both contemplated what this newfound game could mean. Neither of us fully realized how far this idea might take us or how much it might reveal about the hidden corners of his sexual desires and fetishes.
The night air clung with a hint of warmth as I brought my Porsche 911 to a smooth stop under the soft glow of a streetlamp. I sat for a moment, my hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, letting the silence envelop me. The low hum of the engine faded as I turned it off, leaving only the faint sound of the world outside. My thoughts lingered on the night ahead, anticipation mixing with a touch of nerves.
With a steady breath, I reached for the door handle and opened it just enough to hear the faint click of the latch. Slowly, deliberately, I shifted in my seat. My hand brushed the hem of my short black cocktail dress, smoothing it over my thighs as I prepared to make my exit. The silky fabric clung to my frame, accentuating every curve in the dim light.
Sliding one leg out first, I let the long line of my calf stretch into view. The sheen of my black pantyhose caught the streetlamp's glow, highlighting the graceful arch of my foot as it emerged, in a sleek 5 inch stiletto high heel. The pointed toe and delicate strap framed my foot like a piece of art, the stiletto tip pressing against the pavement with a quiet click.
I paused, savouring the moment before extending my other leg with the same slow, deliberate motion. The second heel touched down beside the first, a soft click of elegance against the asphalt. My dress shifted slightly, its fabric moving in rhythm with my body as I straightened and stepped out of the car, the door closing behind me with a soft thud.
The night air kissed my skin, the warmth mingling with the cool confidence I felt as I stood tall. My high heels added an elegant edge to my stride and power. Each step toward the house was deliberate, the soft sway of my hips and the shimmer of my dress creating a performance that I knew Ethan wouldn't miss. He was filming everything I was sure of.
His house loomed ahead, the lights from inside casting a warm glow. I moved with purpose, the rhythmic click of my heels on the driveway punctuating each step. My hips swayed naturally, the dress shifting with the motion, hinting at the allure beneath.
Inside, the long staircase was waiting for me with their polished hardwood gleaming faintly in the dim light. I ascended slowly, each step deliberate, as the sharp click of my stiletto heels echoed with authority against the smooth surface. The sound punctuated the air, each tap a reminder of the graceful precision with which I moved.
With every step, my legs stretched and flexed, the lovely fabric of my black pantyhose felt amazing on my leg, accentuating the sculpted curves of my calves. The arch of my feet within the confines of the pointed heels created a delicate tension, a perfect blend of elegance and control. The slender straps around my ankles framed each graceful movement.
As I climbed, a fleeting thought whispered in the back of my mind, a quiet reflection on the night ahead. For one of these legs, tonight might mark a turning point, a transformation from strength and fluidity to stillness, trapped and supported. The idea of a cast immobilizing one limb, keeping it from flexing for weeks, was both sobering and sexually exhilarating. It added weight to each step, a heightened awareness of the freedom and beauty in every motion, knowing it might soon be a memory.
Where was he...
The smooth wood beneath me made each step feel intentional, the sensation of the firm surface under my heels heightening my awareness of every movement. The sway of my hips became a rhythm all its own, the short hem of my cocktail dress shifting ever so slightly, revealing the faint shimmer of the pantyhose against my thighs. The climb was slow, a graceful ascent that turned each step into a showcase of poise and elegance, building anticipation with every moment
At the top of the stairs, I leaned lightly against the railing, crossing my legs with deliberate grace. My sleek black stiletto dangled off my foot as the faint sound of my dress rustling filled the quiet air. The setup was carefully planned, every detail designed to create a moment that blurred the line between reality, performance and pure sexual fetish.
I waited, my chest heaving slightly, breaths coming in shallow gasps, as I felt his presence behind me. I knew he was there, watching, waiting. The anticipation was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to reach out and caress my skin.
"Look forwards, you look amazing Miss, don't look back" Ethan whispered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down my spine.
"I've been thinking about this moment for years, Miss Robinson."
"You have?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He stepped closer, his gloved hand reaching out to lightly trace the curve of my neck. "Every detail. The way your dress hugs your body, the way your heels make your legs look endless."
His fingers moved lower, grazing the edge of my dress, between my legs.
"And nothing underneath...hummm"
Steffie...2.0
Chapter 7 to come
