I felt her before I saw her. You know that sensation that you’re being looked at? The prickle at the back of your neck that makes you feel uncomfortable for a reason you can’t quite place, until you make eye contact and see it wasn’t your imagination. When I realised what was happening, I smiled at her in a ‘do I know you?’ way. I didn’t recognise her – she was tall, slim and dressed in a slinky black frock that emphasised her hourglass figure. I was certain I’d have remembered her. I felt a rush of blood to my cock as she shifted her weight from one stiletto-clad foot to the other and I noticed her dress was slashed to the thigh on both sides, revealing a hint of stocking. She didn’t smile back, making me worry that she hadn’t been looking at me at all, and it was my own lust leading my imagination.

She strode towards me, a glint in her eyes, and I was half-expecting a slap for my errant erection. Her first words did nothing to reassure me.
“You’re scared of me.”
There is no right answer to an opening line like that. If I disagreed, I’d be suggesting that she was wrong – never a good introduction to a stranger. If I said yes, I’d sound like a wimp. I settled on taking a nonchalant drag of my cigarette and giving her a slightly dorkish smile.
“A lot of people are,” she continued. “So, what are you doing here?”
“I’m a friend of Tom’s – he lived next door to me when we were kids. You?”
“I hate all this media shit. I just like to keep up to date with what’s being talked about at all the fashionable parties to make sure I never accidentally find myself talking about something ‘zeitgeisty’”
I smiled again, unsure of what to say, but still aroused to my surprise. She was clearly a woman who knew her own mind – not my usual type at all. As a film producer, I’m used to wannabe actresses trying to get into my pants in the hope it will get them a part. I don’t encourage it but, as Tom says, “It’s a perk of the job. Take it where you can get it, mate.” As such, my usual companions are in their early twenties, with pert breasts and adoring gazes.

The stranger looked me up and down before meeting my eyes directly, her green eyes glinting in the dim and smoky room.
“I’m leaving. You coming?”
“Errr, why?” The question was out of my lips before I engaged my brain.
“You were standing alone. You didn’t mention work in your opening line. That makes you more interesting than anyone else here. And…” she glanced down at my crotch “you seem pleased to see me.”
Without waiting for my answer, she turned on her heel and headed to the cloakroom.

I stood there for a few seconds, trying to register what had just happened. She was intimidating, but intrigued me. I stubbed my cigarette and squeezed through the crowd to catch her at the door.
“You’re astute,” she commented, as I joined her.
“You seem more interesting than that crowd,” I said.
“I didn’t mean for leaving them,” she said. “I meant for being scared of me.”
I was tempted to head back into the familiar throng for a non-threatening night of drink and flirtation, but my cock led me through the door…

***

Outside the party, she was friendlier, with a dark sense of humour that had me laughing despite feeling disconcerted. We walked, talked, and when we got to a quiet street, she said: “This is me. Coming in?”
“Do you usually invite strange men into your house?”
“Only ones who are profile enough that I could make a fortune by selling my story to the papers if they give me any grief.”
Again, the spikiness – but I was getting used to it by now.
“Consider me warned,” I laughed, as she unlocked the door.

***
I wasn’t sure what to expect of her flat but the cosy bookshelf-lined room wouldn’t have been my first assumption.
“Drink?” she asked, getting two tumblers out and filling them with ice before I could answer.
“I’ll have what you’re having.”
”And I thought you knew your own mind,” she said, pouring a hefty measure of Jack Daniels into both our glasses. She bent over and slipped off her heels, giving me a tantalising glimpse of her tight, round arse before she stood up and walked over to me with the drinks.
“Sit down. I won’t bite.”
I bit back the obvious response. Something told me I’d need to work harder with her.
“So, tell me about you – and skip the media bullshit,” she said, curling up in a large battered leather sofa, and patting the cushion next to her. On her own turf and without the heels, she seemed less threatening, but I still didn’t feel comfortable enough to remove my own shoes, and sat upright next to her, as I began to do as she’d asked.

***

Four hours later I was more than a little tipsy, and, I realised, incredibly comfortable, Once I started to tell her about myself, she’d softened and soon I’d found myself sharing some of my deeper secrets – things I’d only told my closest friends. She had a knack for disarming me, matching my confessions with ones that seemed equally intimate. The evening seemed to be heading in one very obvious direction, so I was surprised when she glanced at her watch and said ‘shit, it’s late, I’d better be getting to bed,’ and made it clear with her body language that she meant ‘alone’.
“Err, thanks for the drinks,” I said.
“You can ask for my number if you want,” she replied. “I might answer your calls.”
I felt like a naughty schoolboy for not asking before. “Err, thanks, yes, I’d love it. Let’s do dinner sometime.” I cringed as the phrase popped out of my mouth.
“Well, if dinner’s all you had in mind…” she said, pushing a card into my hand and me out of the door in one move, with a brusque but strangely sensual peck on the cheek. I only realised as I glanced down at the card that she’d never told me her name. It read simply ‘Angel’.

***
I don’t know what perfume she wore but it clung to me even as I arrived home. I couldn’t help but stroke myself as I lay in bed, thinking of the evening, and came to a fast and messy orgasm over my chest.

***

Against my usual nature, I called her the next day. There was no response. I tried to blot her out of my mind but that evening, I kept finding my thoughts drawn away from my buxom twenty-year old companion and back to Angel. I went home alone, craving nothing more than the chance to call Angel again. The phone rang out but she didn’t pick up.

***

After a week, I was frantic. No matter how many distractions I had, Angel was there, tapping on my thoughts making concentration impossible. I left her message after message, feeling like a stalker but unable to resist the urge. And then it came. A text. Five words.

Tonight. My place. My rules.

I was powerless to resist.

***

Angel opened the door wearing a tight red silk dress.
“Good. You’re on time.”
“Of course,” I said, proffering the bottle of wine I’d spent an hour choosing.
“Nice choice,” she nodded appreciatively. “Come through.”
As I walked through the door, I smelled her perfume once more and breathed it in wanting to fill my lungs with her scent. Her buttocks undulated under the flimsy fabric of her dress, and I could have sworn that she was wearing stockings underneath. It took all my willpower not to grab her but I was sure that it would bring the evening to a rapid close.

Instead of leading me through to the lounge, she headed for a room directly ahead and, as she opened the door, I realised it was her bedroom. Opulent was the only word that could describe it: deep red walls, red ceiling, and a red velvet spread on the bed, the colour only broken up by deep fur rugs on the floor.
“Fake,” she said, gesturing at them. “Take a seat.”
She perched on the edge of the bed and indicated that I sit on the chaise lounge opposite – red, of course. I felt like a teenager as she looked at me, the same glint in her eyes that I’d noticed before.
“You want me,” she said.
Usually I’d deny it – be turned off at such arrogance - but my repeated phone calls belied any excuse I could have made so I merely nodded,
“Then you can have me. But on my terms. And only if you trust me.”
Even though I’d only met her once before, the depth of our conversation had been such that I did trust her – something that surprised me.
“I do.”
“Are you happy to do whatever I say?”
Again, I nodded.
“Good. One last thing before we begin. You can stop me at any moment by saying my name three times but if you use my name like that, everything stops and you’ll never see me again, so only say it if you’re absolutely certain. Agreed.”
One final nod was all it took to seal my fate.

***

She started gently, taking my hand and pulling me to the bed. Her lips touched mine, and I felt the charge of ‘anticipation made real’ spark through me. She stayed like that, her lips on mine, breathing my breath and feeding me hers, until I was lost, unable to recall a time when we hadn’t been joined in a kiss. Only then did her tongue delicately snake out and touch my own – just the tip. My cock leapt as if she’d grabbed it. But as I started to deepen the kiss she pulled back. “My rules,” she said, before moving her lips back to mine, and making the world right again.

As her tongue leisurely explored, running over my teeth and tongue, stroking the roof of my mouth, I started to shake. She straddled me and, at the same time, I felt her nails begin to slide gently over my back, starting from the base and moving in circles up my spine. By the time she reached my neck, I was almost crying with pleasure, my cock pressing hard against my jeans. I was sure she could feel me. But the sensation was mostly focussed on my lips, the point where the softness of our bodies met, the only point at which she was letting me into her.

Both of her hands were on my neck now, nails scratching harder but still sensually, the pads of her fingers pressing into the base of my skull. She moved away once more and whispered ‘Kiss me’ before pulling my lips hard onto hers. I kissed her deeply, tongues clashing, teeth biting, lips bruising, my hands moving down to her waist and pulling her body close to mine. She rocked her pelvis against me and could feel the arousal fizzing through my muscles. But, just as I was beginning to fear I’d come from that alone, she pulled away.
“Strip for me.”
My hands fumbling, I pulled my clothes off, throwing them in a heap next to the bed. I looked at her, hoping to see her flesh but she was still fully clothed.
“Now lie back.”

I did as she said, cock twitching as she climbed on top of me, pushing her dress up to reveal that I’d been right about the stockings. She leaned over me, her nipples brushing achingly close to my face as she grabbed first my left arm, then my right and secured them to the bed with leather cuffs that had been hidden down the sides of the bed. She repeated the action with my ankles. I was now tethered to the bed, unable to move my limbs more than a couple of inches.
“OK?” she asked as she clambered off me and moved to the head of the bed to tighten the straps.
“Yes,” I said, despite my nerves, as I was stretched to my maximum.
“Good.” She pulled off her knickers and laid them next to my head on the pillow, close enough for me to smell her arousal, but too far away to taste, then sat astride me once more.

Her long hair brushed against my chest as she wriggled down my body, her hot breath tracing a line down my neck, chest, cock, balls and thighs, then continuing down the rest of my body. She knelt at my feet, just looking at me, then ran a leisurely finger up my thighs and cupped my balls softly in her hands.
“You do realise that I can do whatever I want to you now?” she said, her palm massaging my tightening sac.
My cock bobbed in response before I could articulate one.
“And you like that…” she said, a cruel smile in her voice.

Looking me in the eye, she raised her other hand to her mouth and licked her index finger, slowly and deliberately, then leaned forward to run it, glistening, up the seam of my cock. My pre-cum leaked out onto her finger and she traced her fingertip through it in lazy circular motions before bringing it back to her lips to taste.
“Nice,” she said, moving further up my body and straddling my thigh so I could feel her wetness leaking out of her as she repeated the gesture.

I was desperate for more direct stimulation but she continued to tease me, her only concession to add more fingers playing over my frenulum, and dipping into my arousal. I could feel her grinding against me, so wet that her juices were trickling over my thigh and making my balls sticky. And all the while she looked me in the eye. My bonds meant that I couldn’t even arch up to get more pressure and I closed my eyes trying to intensify the stimulation through my mind alone.
“Open your eyes,” she said.
I watched her bend over my cock, hair trailing over my inner thighs. A jolt of arousal coursed through my shaft as I saw her lips heading for my cock but then, just as I was about to slide into her mouth - she stopped. And, looking me directly in the eye, just breathed over me. I had a moment of hope when she gripped the base of my shaft and aimed me between her lips but – no – she kept her mouth wide open. Now, I could feel the warmth of her mouth around me, but no contact – her breath all that she was giving me.

I groaned and tried to push forward, but was frustrated by my ties. She bobbed her head down, brushing the tip of my cock once against her tonsils so fast it was over before I realised what she was doing, then pulled away entirely.
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I moaned, my now agonised with my need to come.
“Shame,” she said, moving away and opening a drawer next to the bed. I gulped when I saw what she had in her hand – a vibrator – and hoped that she wasn’t planning to use it on me. But by now, if that was what it would take to get an orgasm, I’d take it. She must have read my mind.

“Greedy boy. But it’s not for you.”
She sat astride my face and parted her lips with her fingers, inches away from my mouth.
“It’s for me.”
I watched enraptured as she set the toy buzzing and slid it inside herself, parting her folds. Her finger rubbed on her clit, so near to me that I could see it swelling. I wanted nothing more than to taste her. As she fucked herself with the toy, she held nothing back. Her juices dripped onto my face and I desperately hoped that some would land on my lips but she seemed to know my deepest desires and rocked back and forth until my cheeks, nose and chin were wet yet somehow my lips remained free of her juices. I could see her moving harder, faster now, clearly approaching orgasm. And then…

“What do you want?” she stopped and pulled back, trailing the wet tip of the toy over my chest.
“Anything,” I moaned. “Whatever you want.”
“OK. I want to fuck you. But you’re not allowed to come.”
Christ! But I needed to feel her around me, needed to connect. I nodded.
She slid down to my cock and hovered just above it.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded once more, and felt her lips parting over the head of my cock, her warmth sliding just over the head. She stayed like that, flexing her muscles and looking me in the eye, taunting me.
“Do you want to come?”
”Christ, yes!”
”Well you can’t.”

And with painful slowness, she slid my entire length deep inside her, gripping me tightly and rocking backwards and forwards. My cock was being massaged by her expert muscles and I’d never felt a woman take me so deeply before. It felt like we were joined, each pulse of hers being matched by one of my own. There was no way I wanted to hold back.
“I’ve got to come,” I begged.
“Your choice,” she said, and I remembered the get out clause. My balls tightened as I gasped “Angel, Angel, Angel.” And shot inside her in an orgasm so intense that I screamed, every nerve in my body feeding the climax, and every muscle in my body shaking. I lay on the bed breathing heavily, and closed my eyes as I tried to return to reality.

***

When I opened my eyes, she had gone. The leather handcuffs were still around my wrists and ankles but she’d released the ties that held them to the bed. I undid them and grabbed my clothes, pulling them on rapidly. I wanted to hold her, to thank her. But as I got downstairs, I saw a note pinned to the back of the front door.
“Thanks for a great night. Shame you couldn’t hold back enough for more. Angel”

And I remembered our agreement. “If you use my name like that, everything stops and you’ll never see me again”

I realised I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.

To hear this story, download Sex Talk With Emily Dubberley (show two) at Audible.co.uk