What a freaky day. The office was in pandemonium. Managers running all over everywhere, secretaries frustrated beyond words as everyone madly tried to get a financial report completed, a financial report that meant the difference between keeping their branch of the company open or everyone receiving a pink slip at the end of the month. Takeovers were brutal.
Peg ran out of the office like a bat out of hell when, after an hour and a half of overtime, she finally delivered her spreadsheet to her boss. He was so absorbed in numbers he only grunted at her when she told him she was leaving. It wasn't like him; he was usually a very decent guy, always chatted with her for a few minutes Friday at the end of the day. Their check in time, making sure all was well. But that was OK. She understood. He was trying to save both their necks.
She took a deep breath of cool fresh air when she exited the large office building. She stopped for a moment, deciding whether she wanted to take the bus home or walk. It was later than usual, the busses would be less crowded but so would the streets.
Fuck it, she thought, I'll walk off some of this stress, and she headed down 22nd Ave. It was her favourite part of the walk home. There were all kinds of funky fashion shops that had interesting window displays to look at. A little window-shopping might just ease some of the worry. She sure wouldn't be doing any real shopping until she knew she still had a regular paycheck.
She crossed the street and the corner and aimed for home. The first store she passed that held her attention was a vintage clothing store. Today the mannequins were dressed in roaring 20's garb, there was a beautiful blue beaded dress on one and another wore a double-breasted pinstripe suit, including spats and a wide brimmed hat. Interesting that both mannequins were women, complete with flapper style finger waves in their hair.
She continued down the street and stopped at a lighting store, Tiffany knockoffs stood glowing in the window, their multi colored glass shades throwing pale rainbow shadows on the cement in front of the store. Beautiful. Expensive but beautiful.
Yeah, expensive, she thought, it would be a while before one of those graced my living room. She carried on.
After passing yet another fabulous clothing store she began to have doubts about walking home being such a good idea. Everything she saw she wanted and nothing she saw she dared buy. Not today, maybe not for a very long while. Goddamn takeover! Fuck!
Her leisurely pace picked up, her head bent downward, not bothering to look in the windows anymore. No point, it only depressed her further. How would she pay the rent, her bills? She had zero savings. Fuck fuck fuck.
She turned the corner, two blocks to go. She just wanted to be home. At least for now it was secure, no bosses there, nobody trying to take it away from her. Silence and calm, exactly what she needed after this week, just silence and calm. A whiff of something caught her attention and her head snapped up straight. What was that?
Leo's! Leo's Leather, the best leather store in town. They carried anything leather from suit jackets, to chaps and everything in between. Their door was open and she could smell that heavenly pungent leather smell. It called to her, beckoning her into the store, calling her name, enticing her in. She didn't think twice and entered the store.
Five little steps inside and she was engulfed in the succulent divine aroma of leather. Styles and textures surrounded her, each with it's own special appeal. An unending supply of color filled her vision. Heaven was here.
With slow deliberation, she inhaled deeply, allowing the scent to infuse into her lungs. A shiver ran down her spine. Delicious. Peg moved to one side of the store and began to examine the leather wares.
Biker jackets, heavy and black, the zippers were huge and bright and shiny. These jackets could take abuse. Oh but they felt so strong. She stroked the roughness of a sleeve, appreciating its weight when she held it in her hands. She took one from the hanger and put it on. It was far too big and it cocooned her, but the weight did something to her shoulders and they immediately relaxed. She let the jacket slide from her shoulders and she heaved it back onto the hanger. It was so heavy Peg had trouble putting it back on the rack. She moved down to ladies wear.
The aroma of the leather was almost over powering, she felt high. Her pulse raced faster the deeper she went into the store. Her hands touched the garments as she passed the racks of leather goods; they swayed on the racks like dominos falling, each item bumping the next. Cool to the touch the textures of the leather caressed her fingertips as she passed.
Purple shorts, red skirts, black pants all in different weights of leather and suede. She stopped and stared at all the colors, all the choices, wishing she could just try some of it on. She wanted to feel the restrictions new leather imposed on her movement. She lifted the sleeve of a lush brown suede suit jacket, she put it to her face, brushing the softness against her skin, inhaling that pungent smell, so concentrated, as it covered her nose. Luxury. Decadence. She had to try some of it on.
With that decision made the temperature in the store felt ten degrees hotter, breathing was not as easy as it had been and she labored for each breath. She had to put it on; she had to feel weight against her skin. She chose the brown suit jacket, a red leather mini, a red leather halter, the purple shorts, a black pair too, a black micro mini, a royal blue suit. On her way to the change room she saw boots, long shiny patent leather black thigh high stiletto boots. She was panting. She fumbled with boxes, finding her size and dashed into the dressing room.
The dressing room was silent, vacant. Blood pounded in Peg's ears, her chest heaved, she couldn't get her clothing off fast enough. She had to try the leather on, she had to, she was driven.
The micro mini was first. It was tight and she had to squeeze her hips into it. Lined with satin the hem hung just below her cheeks, it showed off the rounds of her ass beautifully. She grabbed the red halter, needing more. Her nipples hard, pushed against the thin top, showing tiny red nubs in an otherwise smooth sensual cupping of her breasts. She ran her hand over her breasts, feeling each nipple tingle as her hand passed. Her breast filled the halter almost to overflowing; the underside of the garment was soft suede, a treat against her heated skin. The scent of the leather drifted upwards, again saturating her with is strong perfume.
Sitting on the edge of the bench she worked one leg and then the other into the thigh high boots. They made her legs look longer, her thighs thinner, her ass tighter. She admired herself in the mirror. Why had she never done this before? Why had she never allowed herself this much self-serving delicious pleasure? She looked beautiful, tarty, sexy. Hot! And she was hot.
She felt the familiar stirrings in her nether parts. She had plumped up; there was a slickness there that hadn't been before. She reached down and touched herself, she wasn't surprise when her hand came away moist. She touched herself again, prodding her lips apart, sending a zing to her clit, which took a direct route to her nipples. God, it felt so good.
She sat on the edge of the bench again, feet together, knees spread wide apart. The mirror reflected an image she'd never seen before. A trampy tart faced her, cheeks flushed, forehead damp and pussy glistening. She reached down and stroked her clit again, suppressing the moan that wanted to erupt from her throat. Her other hand slid underneath the halter, sandwiching itself between the softness of her breast and the softness of the leather, both so soft, but in such different ways. She squeezed her nipple, her belly turned over inside. She stroked her clit, waves of pleasure spread through her body. She stroked faster and the waves came harder.
She continued to stroke her clit, watching herself in the mirror, in awe of the picture that presented itself to her. Peg's excitement grew with surprising speed and when she could no longer take the intenseness that filled her she grabbed the suede jacket and pressed it to her face as one would press a chloroform soaked rag. She drew deep ragged breaths, sucking in the scent of the leather, absorbing it into her lungs, and into her skin, as tidal waves of intense pleasure overwhelmed body.
She sat there for what seemed to be a long time, the intoxicating odor of the leather acting first as a stimulant and now as a sedative calming the crescendo of pleasure into soft gentle waves, into trickles, into a memory.
Able to function once again, she reluctantly removed the wonderful clothing encasing her body. With a note of melancholy she dropped the halter on the bench beside the luxurious suede jacket and donned her work clothes.
Leaving the store she inhaled one last deep intoxicating breath and turned towards her apartment, her worries gone for moment, the hellish week forgotten. She didn't remember the rest of the walk home.
