Enter Mistress Rebecca

Steadily, smoothly with perfect posture she moved through the crowd toward the DJ booth. She walked with the confident stride of a catwalk model, one high heeled foot crossing in front of the other. It looked restrained but she was actually covering thr ground at quite a clip. She was not there to shake hands and back slap like a politician.

The crowd did not make a sound, but just parted almost serenely to allow she and I moved. Everyone looked at her and then briefly at me. Even the hottest and sexiest of the escorts and the most arrogant and wealthy looking of the guests. They looked at her with admiration and lust, and at me with vague inquisitiveness. I understood them wondering who I was and what I was doing with Mistress Rebecca.

steampunk corset escort gran canariaI did not look like a scary tough security guard. I was (and am) the grey man. That was (and is) my job. Mid grey linen suit in reasonably fashionable but not edgy style. Short but not aggressive hair, slightly above medium height. Fit looking but not hugely muscular or overly skinny. Tanned from my time around the haunts of the rich and famous. Eyes that were sometimes green and sometimes brown depending on how the light hit them steadily scoping everyone around us for potential threats. I also understood why they found it hard to take their eyes off the amazing, powerful and sexy woman ahead of me. She seemed to project sex and power through everything that she did, though she did not seem to do anything. Maybe it was better to say that she exuded sex from everything that she was.

Blonde hair with honey highlights cascading lose around her tanned shoulders. Which were well defined and exercised and nearly as broad as mine. I guessed swimmer or gymnast. (I later found that both were right, as was judo and karate fighter) Tonight her look was rather different to the sports wear she had on when I first met her. No Lycra or running shoes today.

Instead she wore a luminously white leather corset, cinched in to pronounce her already small waist even more. A floor length white leather skirt with slits from floor to the waistband. Through which slits showed her white high heeled thigh boots and about a mile and a half of bronzed, taut thigh that rippled as she strode. In her running shoes she was five feet seven inches. Tonight, she must have stood close to six feet, possibly a touch over. And she still moved with grace and athleticism.

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