Emma's Stiletto Seduction Pt. 14

I had not asked David for his thoughts a second time, there was no point. I knew that this is something that cannot slip your mind. In fact it had been occupying his spare moments almost constantly, and I was feeling guilty for starting them.

It was a few days later that I received a text message...

David: Hi Em, I have thought of something you may like to try. X

Emma: That's great, what do you suggest? X

David: I have a scenario that I'd like us act out x

Emma: Count me in x

David: And I know just the place, is Sunday 16th April 2022 ok for you? x

"Still formal", I giggled to myself.

David then filled me in on the details. I must admit that it was not quite what I had expected from him, those few days of thoughts must have been spinning around his mind in turmoil until he was turned on enough to suggest it.

As usual, I had got home to my apartment after work on Friday night. I then travelled to Davids' house after showering and getting my things together. We had spent the last 5 weekends as a couple. Fridays and Saturdays were usually spent in coffee shops and then evenings in front of the fire watching television or listening to music. It has become a routine, yes, but one we had both become content with. It was like a marriage, but a rare one in which the couple still liked each other and had sex.

It was 6.30 pm Sunday when I started getting ready. I knew what was planned to happen, although I had no idea if I could actually make it happen. David had assumed correctly that I could seduce his mechanic, which was the last time that David shared me. As on that occasion, I dressed appropriately this evening.

It was very rare that when I was expecting sex, not to wear stockings and suspenders. In the period I have been seeing David, I doubt that he had seen me out of stockings. This includes when in bed to sleep, and the shower, and the bath. As a transwoman, I like to make the effort and he liked that about me.

But tonight I didn't wear stockings, or a basque and not even a g-string. I was going to wear no panties. Instead I pulled on a very tight pair of black latex leggings, size 12. They were high-gloss and very wet-look, and clung to my every curve.

I paired them with a black push up bra which elevated my growing breasts into what David described as a "perfect handful". It was true that I did not have a D cup like most women seemed to have these days, but I hoped that them being round and pert was enough for most men - and that my body made up for it in other ways. Instead of a blouse or silky top, I wore a short black leather tailored jacked that buttoned at the front. Only two buttons would be fastened, so that it hid the front clasp of my bra. It exposed my belly button from below and suggested a line of cleavage at the top.

Naturally, my fingernails were kept long and painted black to match, and my trademark dark liquid eye liner and mascara applied liberally. I wore my shoulder length black bobbed hair in two bunches that hung underneath each ear. My large 3" hooped sterling silver earrings completed the look.

Boots tend not to work well with glossy leggings, so I chose a pair of 3 1/2" patent leather stiletto court shoes that I kept at the bottom of David's wardrobe. I pulled the ankle straps tight and buckled them. Even though David was coming with me, It is always best to wear shoes, especially heels, that you can run in if you are going to meet a stranger.

David was already waiting for me in the hall. He was sitting on the third stair as I brushed passed him. He looked me up and down and tried not to smile. I had only ever worn leggings when out on a date with him once prior, when he took me to get my tongue pierced. He also remembered that on that day, he had also cracked an egg in my pockets and also on my head, letting the egg-white and yolk slip down my sleek black hair.

He knew that this was a favourite kink of mine, to be wet and messy.

I took my lipstick out of my shoulder bag that was hung over the stair post, and held my iPhone in my hand. David had suggested that's all that I would need tonight. Even though we were going out to hopefully share me with another man, it felt different. We were more relaxed than in previous encounters. Like we were just popping out for coffee or a sandwich.

We travelled in the car approximately 45 minutes to a housing estate on the edge of a large town. I hadn't been there before, but for some reason it felt like David knew the place fairly well.

"It used to be quite busy around here," He suggested, "but everyone seems to go into the town centre now."

He pulled the car over to park on what was a residential street. We had passed a gathering of shops on the corner some 100 yards back. It looked like it had once been a Spar, but was now somewhat run down. The bright lights of a fast food outlet revealed no customers.

The houses in the area were a mixture of 1930s semi detached properties and long lines of terraced houses with ginnels. I instantly knew that I would look out of place in the area the moment my stiletto high heeled shoes echoed on the pavement.

When David had sold me his idea, I had not tried to think too much about the details like this. But I was here now and would just have to go through with it.

He opened the passenger door for me, David ever the gentleman. Thankfully I wouldn't be the only one out of place here. He wore Dark brown trousers and even darker brown shoes. They were less dressy than his usual smart shoes, more of a boot, which made David feel even taller than his already substantial height. He wore a shirt and jacket, but no tie.

"It's about fifty yards on the left." David instructed, and ushered me forwards along the street. I was correct, the metal tips of my shoes popped on the tarmac and echoed through the quiet streets that the night was now claiming for its own.

Lit up in the distance, between a large gap in the houses, was a pub. It was exactly what you would expect to find here, and had existed for what felt like a hundred years. Made out of the same dark red brick as the surrounding propertie, the front facade as narrow as a terrace.

To the left of the pub frontage was a door that was left open and led into a small vestibule. To the right was a large bay window that revealed a few tables, some plush benches in a booth arrangement and a bar. We could see an older person sat at a table with his back to the window. A pint of beer rested next to him, and he held up a large newspaper. It did feel like an area that tablets and the internet had skipped, the last analogue generation. Two more men were sat at tables nursing drinks, heads craned to watch a television that appeared not to have the sound on.

A few days earlier, David had described the layout of the pub to me perfectly...

"When you enter though the vestibule you will see the main public bar. It's carpeted, with tables and chairs but it feels dated and more like an old lounge. There will probably be a one or two people there, but it's not a young persons place anymore.

The bar is to the back of the room, facing the window as you walk in. You can pass the bar on the left, through a corridor to another room, the pool room to the rear. This room has a concrete floor, And there is a door out to a small yard if I remember correctly. There is a smaller bar for service in the back room, that links from the front but I cannot recall anyone using it. There are womens' toilets and a disabled toilet cubicle just beyond the corridor that most men use.

It also has an upstairs, wooden steps that lead to a mezzanine on the pool room and a function room at the front that's probably closed now. The mens toilets are also up there which is why most use the downstairs disabled facilities."

I didn't ask David how he knew all these things, but I trusted him. And he was correct in every detail.

I was to walk in, alone, with David following me precisely two minutes later.

I was definitely overdressed, and I doubt that they had seen anything quite like me in the pub, perhaps ever in its 100 years of existance. Thankfully the carpet deadened the sound of my heels as they sunk into the worn patterned carpet. The men in the bar did not stir or move their attention to me. The barman felt like part of the furniture, but looked up when he heard the door close. He looked at me but said nothing.

"Gin and tonic please." I asked, trying desperately to keep my nerve as I placed my phone onto the bar. The surface was damp, with two dead pint glasses placed on a plastic draining tray.

The barman turned and pulled a tall glass from a shelf, holding it up to an optic.

"Gordon's ok?" he asked, looking at me intently through the mirror behind the bottles.

"Yes, fine." I replied.

He pressed twice, and delivered a large measure into the glass.

"Ice?"

"No thank you."

He placed the glass on the bar in front of me, it was a large measure. He turned once more and took a bottle of tonic water from the refrigerator underneath the cash register. He uncapped the bottle, and the fizz of the liquid broke the silence.

As he poured two thirds of the tonic into the glass, the door behind me closed. It was David, the mirror at the back of the bar proving quite useful once more.

"Three-eighty" said the barman.

I felt my heart sink a little, as I knew that I would have to ask a question that I thought I already knew the answer to,. "Do you take Apple Pay?" I asked, cringingly.

"Errr" Said the barman.

Thankfully the barman turned to the till, and dragged across a card device still attached with a curled wire. I tapped my phone against it, begging it to work. And it did.

I could see David smiling, and I knew that he thought that I wouldn't be able to pay this way and he would have to come to my rescue. I took my drink and the barman turned to David, who promptly ordered a "scotch on the rocks and a bottle of water".

"Where are the ladies?" I interrupted.

"Back there" gestured the barman, not questioning my request.

I left the lounge-bar and walked into the back room. The carpeted floor changed to tile, and then to concrete. David had been extremely accurate in his description. I placed my drink down and left to use the toilet facilities, leaving the men that were now audibly chatting to each other.

I was feeling nervous, but confident. As I finished reapplying my red lipstick in the toilet, I received a text message...

David: You have caused quite the stir already! X

Emma: They didnt even notice me! X

David: I think they did, they are deciding who has the best chance to fuck you! X

Emma: really?

David: Yes, really. X

Emma: You know its you. Right?

David: yes x

It was quite a shock to find that men of a certain age still act like horny teenagers when presented with a feminine form.

I walked back into the pool room and took my gin from the unattended bar and leant casually against the pool table, resting my bottom cheeks. I casually checked my phone as an older gentleman walked through from the lounge, past me and into the disabled toilet. I noticed that he had definitely caught a sly look at me.

The male was in his early 60s, and had clearly spent too many nights in this place. He was short, around 5ft 7, with a belly that betrayed the pints drank in here. He may have been once attractive, but the years had not been kind.

I checked my phone...

David:?

Emma: Is this the one that wants to fuck me? x

David: Yes x

I could hear the flush of the disabled toilet and the door unlocked. I tried to act my casual best, paying attention only to my 'phone and leaning nonchalantly against the pool table. My plastic leggings clung to its tacky surface.

"Fancy a game?" Said the man, boldly.

My eyes looked up over the top of my black rimmed spectacles. I could feel the heavy mascara sticking my lashes together. I pouted my lips, quizzically.

"Pool" said the man.

"Oh I've never played before." I lied, returning my gaze back to my phone and trying my best to ignore him. It is odd that this behaviour encourages sexual behaviour from men towards me more then anything.

The man hurried over, oblivious to my initial coldness, reached into his pocket and placed two coins on the table.

"I'll show you, love." He said, now giving me the opportunity to refuse his invitation.

He placed the two coins into a slot at the side of the table, and the quiet room filled with noise as the balls crashed into the end of the table, sounds reverberating from the hard, durable furnishings.

The pool room had two booths, with black plastic seats and some high stools set under a wide shelf. It felt like it was once a thriving venue, but now barely got any use.

The man turned to a rack of pool cues held against a wall and took one that he liked the look of and placed it on to the table cloth.

"Do you know the rules?" He said keenly, still not looking at me directly.

I lied again in reply, "No, I do not."

He carefully placed the balls into a triangle shape with his hands, and adjusted them into some sort of order. I stepped away from sitting against the table and faced him. His eyes widened as he got to look me up and down, and he rolled the cue along the table cloth, testing it for straightness.

Every so often we heard voices from the lounge. They were all talking now, more loudly than before.

"So how does this go?" I asked.

"Err you hit the white ball and try and get your colours into the pockets." Said the man, "And then you can pot the black to win."

"How do you decide who is red or yellow?" I asked.

"The first person to pot a ball gets that colour, " He answered quickly, "do you want to break?"

He placed the white ball at the top of the table, and handed me the cue.

I put my drink back on a small shelf above two stools, the glass now coated in my bright red lipstick. I should have asked for a straw

As I bent over the table, I could see his eyes fixing themselves on me. The tight black plastic of my leggings now stretched taught over my bottom. I could feel him feasting himself on the view and allowed my heels to scrape the floor a little to attract his attention to them.

I struck the cue ball and miss-hit, it went sideways rated than be propelled forwards and at a slow pace. The man chuckled and smiled.

I turned to face him, tilting my head and stroking my hair bunches, "You will have to show me."

I expected him to take the ball and break off, but he didn't. He was more confident than I imagined him to be, perhaps fuelled by a few hours spent drinking in here earlier and encouraged by me showing my body off to him a little.

"Bend over the table as if you are striking the ball," He suggested again, "but don't hit it."

I followed his direction at once to the letter, bending over so that my bottom was pushed into the air. My left arm flat on the clot hand my breasts on the table cushion.

He stood behind me and to my left. He placed his left hand on mine, which was now gripping the green felt of the table and he spread my fingers with his.

"Like this." He suggested, as he strongly held my hand down.

Then he reached over my back with his right arm, and gripped his right hand over mine on the pool cue.

"Let the cue slide through your fingers."

This wasn't the first time a man had done this to me. I definitely knew where this was going. It was old school flirting, with no sense of self or personal boundaries. It was being 'chatted up' but belonging of the the 1970s. Crude, physical and to the point.

On 99.99% of women this display would have ended up with a push, or even a slap, but it was accurately what David had predicted when he pitched the idea to me. It was precisely what he wanted to happen to me this evening.

And so I let it.

I hadn't expected it to happen so soon though, it wasn't going to be a subtle seduction.

I'm not sure if the man actually thought that this approach to pulling a younger woman would work, and it must have been a shock to him when I didn't pull away or resist. He remained behind me, the pretence of teaching me to run a cue though my hands, but had now re-positioned so that his crotch was pushing itself into my bottom.

He pushed the cue through strongly when gripping my hand, and the white ball separated the others.

"Good shot." He said as we stood up, and I passed the cue back to him. For a moment we forgot there was a pretence of a game.

This is the one benefit of internet dating I had found over the prior 20 or so years. All of the thrill, or sometimes boredom of the chase, was removed. You make an arrangement for sex, have sex, and thats it.

But we continued the subterfuge.

He hit a yellow ball into a pocket, and then another, but missed on the third attempt.

"My turn now?" I asked, innocently, placing the remains of my Gin glass back on the shelf.

The popping and scraping of my heels again echoed through the room as I rounded the table. It reminded me of the time I used my shoes to seduce David all those months ago. And yet here we were, very much together as a couple but with him in another room just a few yards away, having suggested that I seduce someone else to help satiate my sex drive.

I bent over the table again, but the man didn't respond this time, instead just looking at me and contemplating.

"Can you show me how again?" I asked, summoning my poshest voice to break his gaze.

The man walked back to me, and once more positioned himself behind me. He leant over and took my hands back in his, running the cue though our fingers.

"Do it like this." He said, suggestively.

"You want this?" I asked, slowly wanking the butt of the cue though his hand."

I felt his warm breath on the back of my neck. He definitely smelt like his confidence had come from the drink.

I hit the cue ball but we remained in this position for longer than before. I stood up but he forced me to stay against the table, his groin forming the perfect jigsaw piece against the curves of my bottom.

His hands found my shoulders and settled against the soft black leather of my jacket.

I turned around and whispered that he should get us more drinks.

Quickly he pulled himself together and asked, "What are you having?"

"Another gin please, for now."

He released me from the table and made his way back to the lounge bar. I checked my phone once more, I had a message ...

David: Are you ok? X

Emma: Yes, he is definitely up for it x

David: He is chatting to us, he cannot believe his luck x

Emma: Are you ok with this?

David: Yes, enjoy yourself Emma X

The man hurried back to me, with a drink in each hand, relieved I had not changed my mind and left the pub out of the rear exit. He set the drinks down on a small table. The pint was already half empty next to my gin.

"Whose turn is it?" He asked.

"I'll take it." I replied cheekily, but not selling it.

As I bent over he resumed his prior position not waiting for the invite, pushing himself hard against me. He didn't guide my hands to the cue though, but rather placed his hands on my hips, steadying himself and guiding my bottom back against him.

He seemed to feel encouraged by my lack of resistance to this and placed his hands back to my shoulders, beginning to dry-fuck me from behind. I hadn't known him for thirty minutes, and yet here we were, the masquerade game of pool now hastily forgotten and his mind focussed only on one thing.

After allowing him to grind himself against my body for a few minutes, I turned around so that we were face to face for the first time. In my high heeled court shoes we were the same height. His lips soon clumsily found mine, and he forced his tongue deep into my mouth.

It wasn't a passionate kiss, but an awkward one. It was how you imagine people french kiss but not actually how it's done. All from him, all tongue, and pushed as far into my mouth as possible. He tasted of beer, until I could taste my own cherry red lipstick on his lips.