Leather Miniskirt

by Misti Love-Fitzpatrick

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© Copyright 2024 - Misti Love-Fitzpatrick - Used by permission

Storycodes: FF; F/f; fpov; foreplay;sex; bond; leather; lingerie; rom; cons; X

Rekka watched the crowd stream into the auditorium. It wouldn’t be long until all of the 1,000 seats were filled, she estimated. She was with her parents to celebrate her brother’s graduation from law school. Haruto had worked hard and it was time to honor his accomplishment. The students walked in groups of about 20 from the front rows to the stage. Rekka and her parents cheered as Haruto shook hands with the law school dean and received his diploma. There were about 200 more students to go, however. Rekka took a deep breath and reminded herself to be patient, but soon gave up.

“I need to go to the restroom,” Rekka told her mother.

Rekka chose the far stall. She found the light blue pill in a plastic bag in her leather purse and swallowed it. The restroom door opened and there was silence, but others soon entered. Rekka fished around in her handbag and found the toy she needed. She had been horny since the moment she had woken up that morning, her interrupted dream full of glamorous bars and sweaty no-strings-attached sex. 

A pretty brunette born in Tokyo, her parents had moved to southern California when she was four years old. Rekka was dressed demurely for her brother’s ceremony, a white short-sleeve cotton blouse, beige high-waist pants and pumps. But underneath she wore a black sheer thong with lace trim. She moved it aside and made sure the dual vibrator rabbit was on its lowest level of intensity. As her inhibition melted away from the pill, the green metal door of the stall began to resemble the entrance to a lush garden. Rekka spread her legs, the heels of her pumps banging against the door as the small vibrator rotated around her g-spot. The orgasm rocketed through her body. If someone heard, they didn’t make an issue out of it. Rekka didn’t give a fuck if the whole world heard.

After ten minutes or so, enough time to gather herself, Rekka returned to the auditorium and smiled at her mother. As the students filed onto the stage, Rekka was somewhat surprised by the fashion choices of some of the female graduates. Most of them wore dresses or pantsuits, but more than a few had opted for miniskirts. It was a warm day and short skirts certainly were in fashion, but Rekka wondered if they were appropriate at such an august occasion. The auditorium was packed with middle-aged and older parents. Rekka was thinking about this when she saw a woman – who looked about her age, which was 25 -- get up from her seat and head for the stage.

She was pretty, with thick blonde hair hanging past her shoulders in long curls. When the blonde turned on the stage to face the audience, Rekka first noticed her lips, full and accentuated by glossy pink lipstick; and then her eyes, blue like sapphire. Rekka’s attention shifted to her outfit – a white, long-sleeve satin blouse and a black leather miniskirt. The blonde’s long legs were bare and she wore black pumps with a stiletto heel. She was on the stage for only about twenty seconds. But that was long enough for Rekka, with a side view, to see that the skirt was skintight and by far the shortest of the ones she had seen on that stage.

The ceremony dragged on for another hour. There was a reception in the lobby afterwards. Rekka and her parents found Haruto, surrounded by his friends. They hugged him and chatted for nearly half an hour. Offering to get her mother a cookie and a drink, Rekka joined the queue. By the side of the line, she saw the blonde, who was chatting with two other women, both of them nondescript. Rekka noticed that the blonde wore a wide chunky gold bracelet on her left wrist. It looked expensive. Her long nails were painted with a pink metallic look, the same shade as her lipstick. She wore gold rings on each middle finger and her thumbs.

Fuck, this chick is something else.

Rekka waited until the blonde’s friends walked away before approaching her.

“Congratulations, such an honor,” Rekka said, introducing herself with a handshake. The blonde hesitated, wondering if she knew her. “Thank you, I’m Angelina. Have we met?” Rekka noted that Angelina wasn’t blonde from a bottle; no sign of brown or black roots. She also had a sweet Southern accent.

“My brother, Haruto, is in your class. Do you know him?” Rekka asked. Angelina politely said she didn’t. Rekka didn’t consider herself a conversationalist, but those who knew her well did. She asked Angelina questions about her plans after law school. Rekka was not obsequious or flirtatious. It turned out Angelina had a series of job interviews lined up at law firms from Miami to San Diego. She didn’t brag, but she was happy to discuss them.

Rekka remarked that the packed lobby felt a bit claustrophobic and suggested they go across the street to a small bistro, where they could get a glass of wine. Angelina asked if her friends could join them. “Of course,” Rekka said, adding she needed to say good-bye to her parents and brother. A few minutes later, she rejoined Angelina, who introduced Rekka to her two friends. The four women headed to the bistro.

“Are you Japanese?” Patricia, one of Angelina’s friends, asked Rekka as they found a table.

“Japanese-American. Born in Tokyo, but I don’t have any memories of it. My parents moved here when I was small and we’ve lived in L.A. ever since.”

“You have beautiful hair,” Patricia said. Rekka’s black hair was parted in the middle and reached halfway down her back. Rekka thanked her. “She’s a hairdresser,” Angelina told Rekka with a smile. She had returned from ordering a bottle of white wine and sat next to Rekka. On the way to the bistro, chatting with Patricia, Rekka had walked behind Angelina and marveled at her ass framed by the buttery leather. The tightness of the skirt revealed every curve. Rekka wondered what that sexy ass would look like, say, covered in honey on a hot night in the South. She practically had to pinch herself to chase that image from her mind. She glanced at Angelina’s long, perfectly-shaped legs, perhaps for a few seconds too long and wondered if Angelina had noticed.

“Where are you from?” Rekka asked her.

“Tupelo, Mississippi.”

Rekka smiled. She thought Angelina’s breasts were the perfect size, a 36C she estimated. (close, it turned out – 38C)

“Have you been there?”

“No, but isn’t that where Elvis was born?”

“Very good,” Angelina said, sipping her wine. “I’m impressed.”

Rekka didn’t ignore Angelina’s friends. That would be rude and so she made sure to include them in the conversation. After two hours, Rekka asked for Angelina’s phone number. “It would be fun to get together again,” Rekka told her. They exchanged numbers, typing them into their smartphones. Angelina’s friend, Patricia, gave Rekka a knowing smile as they parted. She had noticed Rekka’s stolen glances, her hazel eyes all over her best friend’s breasts and legs.

That went well.

Rekka wrote in her journal that night. Although she considered herself bi-sexual, she had not been with a man for nearly two years. In that time, her interest in women had grown. Her first lesbian relationship had been with a college professor who had seduced her over the course of six months. That woman had introduced her to the lesbian community, but Rekka rarely approached other women. It wasn’t ambivalence. It was the excitement of another woman being attracted to her appearance and wanting to know more about her.

But Rekka could not resist talking to Angelina. She was attracted to pretty blondes, but had never been with one. Blondes have more fun – or at least that’s what I’m told, she wrote in the journal, enjoying the hackneyed cliché. Blondes reminded her of the Beach Boys and endless summers where the boys surfed and the girls wore string bikinis and couldn’t wait to get fucked. She had no clue, of course, whether Angelina had any interest in women. They had just met and if Rekka had not approached her, she likely would never have seen her again. 

But something in Patricia’s knowing smile at the bistro had intrigued Rekka. Patricia’s gay-dar had gone off when Patricia had mentioned her “beautiful hair.” She looked like she wanted to touch it. Patricia had a slightly butch vibe about her. Had Patricia picked up on her interest in Angelina? Or did Patricia know something about Angelina that others didn’t? Rekka dismissed her thoughts as navel-gazing and closed her journal entry with “My new blonde Southern belle girlfriend??? TBD.”

A few days later, Rekka called Angelina and left a voicemail message. She then remembered Angelina was interviewing for an associate position at a big law firm in Miami. Later that week, Angelina called her, but Rekka missed the call. Angelina confirmed in her message what Rekka had thought. She had been in Florida for the job interview. “Phone tag,” Rekka said, as she finally connected with Angelina. She asked how the interview went and asked Angelina if she had time to get a drink that Friday. She said she did. They arranged to meet at a pocket bar near the condo tower where Angelina lived.

Over a carafe of sangria, Rekka demonstrated how she was a good listener and potentially even a better friend. Angelina was chatty, offering details about her interview in Miami and how she liked the people at the law firm. There were women in high positions and a racial diversity that Angelina liked. Aware that she was hogging the conversation, she asked Rekka about what she did for a living. Rekka said she was an investment manager at a large firm.

“How did you get into that?”

“I actually took some finance classes at Yale and eventually changed majors,” Rekka explained. “I went from philosophy to money,” she added with a laugh.

 Rekka wore a pink top with spaghetti straps, tight jeans and black ankle boots with a stiletto heel. She had gathered her long, black hair in a ponytail and wore gold hoop earrings. Her mascara was limited to a thin under-liner and a dark shade of brown lipstick. The jeans were hip-huggers that showed off her diamond navel ring, but it was her necklace that caught Angelina’s eye.

“You’re a Christian,” Angelina said, her stunning blue eyes lowering to Rekka’s silver necklace with the cross pendant.

“I am. It’s an important part of my life.”

“That makes two of us,” Angelina said. “My God-daddy is the pastor of a church in Birmingham, Alabama.”

Rekka nodded. It felt nice to have Angelina recognize they had something in common, although Rekka’s religious beliefs were largely personal. Rekka felt like Angelina was more comfortable after learning that Rekka was a Christian, but that could have been a misperception. Their conversation, however, did become more personal. They shared stories about their childhoods, families and aspirations.

The pocket bar became their regular spot to meet. Angelina and Rekka usually got together once a week for cocktails. The Miami law firm had offered Angelina a job, but she had declined it and accepted a position at a bigger New York City law firm that paid more. The job, however, didn’t start for six months. Rekka invited Angelina to her house to celebrate. As Angelina pulled up in her black BMW convertible, Rekka felt her pulse quicken as she saw that Angelina was wearing a similar outfit to the one at the graduation ceremony.

The leather miniskirt was red, with a diagonal zipper on the front. Angelina wore a long-sleeve crop top in ivory. It was clear she was not wearing a bra. Rekka greeted Angelina at the door with a flute of champagne. “Congratulations, my friend.” Angelina beamed. “Tell me all about it.” Angelina talked about her excitement at landing the job. “The interview was the first time I had been to New York City,” she gushed. Rekka thought that was interesting, a part of Angelina that seemed so sweet and innocent. They stood in the small kitchen. Rekka was putting the final touches on dinner. She was making Angelina’s favorite dish, crawfish etouffee.

“So thoughtful you remembered,” Angelina told her.

Rekka smiled and thanked her for the kind words. “Another leather skirt, like the one you wore at graduation.”

“You have a good memory,” Angelina replied, sipping her champagne.

“How could anyone forget?” The comment hung in the air. “I like this zipper. Does it zip from the top?”

“It does.”

Rekka playfully touched the zipper and waited for Angelina’s reaction. She smiled and so Rekka moved it down more. Angelina’s nipples were hard through the top.

“Don’t stop, Rekka.” Angelina’s voice was soft.

“You’re so pretty – and such an impressive woman,” Rekka told her. “I’ve been attracted to you since I saw you for the first time.”

As she lowered the zipper, Rekka could see Angelina was wearing a red silk panty. Rekka lightly grasped Angelina’s right wrist. She could tell she was trembling slightly.

“Have you ever been with another woman?” Angelina asked and Rekka said she had. “I’m bi, but very much feeling lesbian at the moment.” Rekka said it with a laugh and Angelina joined her.

“Have you?” Rekka said.

“No, just thought about it,” Angelina said. “You know, ‘Katy Perry, I kissed a girl and I liked it.’ ’’

“May I kiss you?” Rekka asked.

“I wish you would, Rekka.”

Rekka kissed her lightly on the lips. Angelina’s skirt was almost halfway unzipped and Rekka slipped her right hand under the top of Angelina’s panty, close to her sex.

“Can we go slow?” Angelina asked. Rekka withdrew her hand and kissed her again.

“Of course,” Rekka replied.

Anticipation is making me wait.

It was the following morning. Rekka lounged in bed, quoting a Carly Simon song and then masturbating about what had unfolded last evening with the hottest blonde she had ever seen. Angelina’s request to “go slow” was not unusual. After all, Angelina had confided she never had been with another woman. Rekka texted her, asking if she wanted to go on a picnic later that day. It was one of those classic summer days, blue skies and 70 degrees. Angelina didn’t respond. Rekka wondered if she had cold feet, but told herself not to be catastrophic.

Angelina called her a few hours later.

“I’m so sorry, Rekka. I’m so afraid.”

“Can you come over?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Rekka asked what was wrong.

“I’m afraid of what I did last night. I’ve had these thoughts before about other women, but never acted on them. I feel like what I did was wrong.”

Rekka was speechless, a rare circumstance.

“We kissed. What happened?” she asked. The reference to the kiss sounded awkward.

“I’m not sure. I feel confused and I’m worried about what my parents and friends would say if they found out I’m a lesbian,” Angelina said.

“Are you?”

“I don’t know.”

Rekka heard the confusion in her voice. But she didn’t feel like making a big speech about how peoples’ sexual orientation was determined at birth and it wasn’t a “lifestyle choice.” Perhaps that could have worked, but Rekka doubted it. There was silence on the other end of the phone. Rekka thought it was impersonal that Angelina was telling her on the phone and not in person. It began to anger her. “Well, it was nice while it lasted,” Rekka said. She knew it sounded cold. When Angelina began to cry, Rekka said good-bye and ended the call.

At first, Rekka wrote it off as a failed conquest – a good try that showed promise but went awry. But then she felt an uncomfortable guilt about how her friendship with Angelina had ended. When Angelina brought up their mutual Christianity, was that a plea for some sort of guidance? Rekka had wrestled with her faith and the homophobia that seemed to infect even the most open-minded believers. Shouldn’t she have helped Angelina navigate through those choppy waters?

She felt the same guilt about Angelina’s fear of her parents finding out she had same-sex desires. Rekka had carried the enormous weight of coming out to her parents and had done so alone. Why hadn’t she offered help to Angelina, sharing her experience? Despite the guilt, she decided not to get back in touch with Angelina, for fear of bothering her.

A week later, Angelina texted her.

<Can we meet?>

Rekka didn’t respond initially. She was exhausted from work and in no mood to get on what could be an emotional rollercoaster.

The following day, she sent Angelina a text. <what do you want?> Almost immediately, she regretted the tone, which sounded short-tempered. Angelina didn’t respond.

A week passed and then Angelina called.

“I feel really badly about how I handled that.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Angelina.”

Angelina tried to remain calm, but failed. She began to cry, unable to talk through the sobbing. 

“I’ve missed you,” she finally managed to tell Rekka.

“I’m glad that you called,” Rekka said. “I’ve missed you too – and I didn’t handle that good-bye well either.” She told Angelina about her guilt, about her failure to discuss religion and coming out to her parents. Angelina talked about the mixture of fear and excitement she felt about her lesbian desires. They chatted for nearly two hours and arranged to meet the following night at their favorite spot, the pocket bar. 

When Rekka arrived, the bartender handed her a small envelope. She opened it. The message was: “Come to 3303. Love, A.”

The elevator delivered Rekka to the 33rd floor. She knocked twice at 3303, then a third time. The door opened, but she could not see Angelina, who was standing by the side. Angelina told her to come in. Angelina wore white lingerie – a bustier in tulle with peony embroidery, sequins, and crystal slides and a matching panty; a lace garter belt and thigh-high silk stockings. White patent leather pumps with a five-inch stiletto heel completed the look. Her long, blonde hair was combed out and hung right past her shoulders.

“You’re so beautiful,” Rekka said, gently kissing Angelina. She rested her hands on Angelina’s hips, enjoying the warmth of the creamy white skin as she ran her right index finger along the top of the garter belt.

“Please forgive me,” Angelina whispered.

“You did nothing wrong.” Rekka kissed Angelina, caressing the side of her face and moving her lips to her neck. Angelina sighed and removed Rekka’s black leather jacket. Rekka wore a white T shirt, jeans and motorcycle boots. Angelina thought the look gave Rekka a masculine edge, which further aroused Angelina.

“Take me to your bedroom,” Rekka told her. Angelina reached behind her and took Rekka’s hand, guiding her to the lavishly-decorated boudoir. The bedroom, illuminated only by a row of candles, featured a large bed with pink sheets. Standing by it, Rekka opened Angelina’s mouth with her tongue and lowered the straps of her bustier, releasing her breasts.

“Isn’t this where we ended off last time?” Rekka said with a smile. She kissed Angelina’s hard nipples, alternating with licking them and sucking the points into her mouth. For a moment, she pondered this turn of events, the heart to heart on the phone and now this hot blonde dressing up in what looked like bridal lingerie for her. She slipped off Angelina’s panty, damp from her arousal.

“You smell so good, babydoll.”

“I thought I’d explode, waiting for you to come up from the bar,” Angelina said.

“You are a bomb ready to go off. Do you have any rope?”

Angelina looked puzzled. “Twine. Why do you ask?”

Rekka asked where. Under the sink, Angelina said, watching Rekka walk out of the bedroom. Upon her return, she told Angelina to lie on the bed on her stomach. Rekka unhooked her bustier and undid the garter belt, and slipped off her thigh-highs, leaving her nude.

“I’m going to tie you up,” Rekka told Angelina, who didn’t respond. Rekka took her wrists behind her back and bound them, using more of the twine because of its thinness. She then ran her hands over Angelina’s ass and touched her pussy for the first time. Rekka had never been with a woman this wet. Her slit glistened and Rekka had to keep reminding herself to go slow, to avoid the temptation of burying her face in Angelina’s inviting backdoor and kissing a short trail down to her sex. 

Instead, she touched Angelina, her fingers moving gracefully over the sleek folds of her sex before sliding two fingers inside. Angelina instinctively spread her long legs. Rekka noticed that Angelina had painted her toenails white, the same color as her long, pointed fingernails. Rekka wondered if it was white for her lesbian virginity.

“You have such a pretty pussy,” she told Angelina, whose hips began to buck.

“I want you to make love to me,” Angelina said, her head reclining as she reached for Rekka.

Rekka cocked her head.

“In the nightstand drawer,” Angelina said.

Rekka opened the drawer to find a black leather harness and a large dildo.

“You’re a kinky girl.”

“Bought it last night.”

“You were very confident,” said Rekka, telling her to turn over onto her back.

“What did you think when you first saw me?” Angelina asked.

“Let’s see. Hot blonde. Pink lipstick. Black leather miniskirt. That pretty much checked all the boxes,” Rekka said.

Angelina laughed.

“Did you think the skirt was too short?”

Rekka smiled. “No, but I thought it was bold.”

“What do you mean by bold?”

“Black leather at a graduation ceremony; you don’t see that every day,” Rekka said.

“No, you don’t. I wanted to be seen.”

“You were, baby.” Rekka kissed her. “That’s why I chatted you up.”

Rekka had attached the harness and leaning forward to kiss Angelina, she slid the dildo into her sex. Rekka could tell she was tight, from Angelina’s low moan as she gradually pushed the shaft deeper. Angelina covered its length with her wetness and asked for more. Rekka couldn’t believe what was happening. She had strapped on before, but those encounters had not unfolded like this. 

She raised Angelina’s legs and found her rhythm, slowly quickening the pace of the silicone shaft as they kissed. She could feel Angelina lose control, her breathing heavier. Rekka pulled out and slid her tongue over Angelina’s clit, alternating with butterfly kisses. Angelina couldn’t hold off much longer. Rekka moved her tongue faster and felt the jolt of energy flow through Angelina’s body, her sighs now turning to screams as she came. As the setting sun threw shards of purple and red into the bedroom, Rekka held Angelina and they kissed until sleep overcame them, waking up in each other’s arms at dawn.


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