A Girl Called Eddie

"That might be just a little too dangerous," he answered. "Going shopping is one thing, but a pair of queens in high heels and short skirts could get themselves into serious trouble, if they bumped into the wrong kind of people."

"Oh, honey, please, for me!" I pleaded. "Carrie only allows me to go out once a fortnight and I do so enjoy the nightlife. There's nothing to be afraid of, honestly. Besides, Mistress will be back in two days, then we're going to have face the music. Let's enjoy ourselves while we can."

He was still nervous, three hours later, as we strolled into the club, looking for the entire world like two predatory blonde real girls in high heels and lip-gloss.

"If that skirt of yours was any shorter, your cock would be showing," he whispered.

"You can talk, Miss Hot Legs," I retorted. "That little pink Lycra number doesn't leave much to the imagination."

"We look like a pair of cheap whores," he said. "I just hope we get away with this."

"Of course we will," I promised. "This is going to be the night of our lives. See the way some of those men are looking at us. Let's see if we can get somebody to buy us a drink."

Eddie soon discovered that I had much more in mind than just a few drinks and a little harmless flirting. While he seemed uncomfortable with all the attention we were attracting, I reveled in my natural role of shameless tease, pouting suggestively, flashing my stocking tops and fluttering my eyelids at any available man that took my fancy. Before he quite knew what was happening, I had invited a pair of handsome young studs back to the apartment for "coffee".

"This is madness!" he hissed, drawing me to one side, just as we were preparing to leave. "Those two obviously think we're the genuine article. We can't just take them home for a foursome."

"Don't tell me you don't want that six-foot-four blond "I retorted. "You've spent the last ten minutes with your tongue down his throat. I'm surprised he didn't notice the bulge in your panties."