Of Rope, Stockings And You - Part 7 - The Thought Of You: It’s hard to know who drew the deepest breath as Kathy entered the room. A collective sensual sigh of sorts, as she moved gracefully toward you. Her timing was nearly perfect, though I had noticed her arrival much earlier. I detected the faint glow of her cigarette outside our bedroom window, as she stood in the cold November air, watching us, warmed by her thoughts of you. Kathy looked as if she were a movie star – fresh from the 40’s. Her long silk robe matched her raven hair, pulled back from her face and held in place with a shiny pearled comb, which matched a dainty pearl choker. Her red lips set ablaze by the candlelight told of how much she wanted you – without speaking a word. She had the walk of a runway model – though in real life she was a waitress. With us she could be who she wanted to be and tonight, she wanted to be elegant. Kathy stopped for a moment, just in front of you. Gently, she caressed her lips with a finger, as she scanned your every curve – her foot tapping slightly on the floor as she paused in erotic contemplation. Slowly, she began to circle you, her eyes fixed on your body, as it swayed to the sound of her heels on the floor. You followed her movement, leaning out to the limits of your bonds, yearning for her touch. Kathy offered you no respite, save the sweet faint smell of her perfume. She circled once more and stopped at the foot of the chaise. With an easy smile, she reached into the pocket of her robe and drew out two black stockings and laid them on my lap. Without words, she looked into my eyes seeking approval - without words, I gave it. Kathy leaned over, retrieved her stockings and firmly tied each of my wrists to the arms of the chaise. From her other robe pocket came a silver cigarette case – as Kathy tapped a Marlboro against the case, I could clearly see her wheels turning. She smiled again as she lit it – the flame from the match showed the passion in her eyes. She offered me a drag, her lipstick tasted good against the smoke. She sat briefly on the arm of the chaise, feeding me a few grapes and sips of Moet. As if sparked by a thought, Kathy rose, kissed me on the cheek and whispered: “thank you” as she stood once more and faced me in the candlelight. A delicate tug on her robe belt opened Kathy to me. She leaned over and tied my ankles together with the belt – her hands trembling slightly. When she rose again, her robe flowed from her body like a silken waterfall – it pooled as if a dark lagoon around her stiletto pumps. My eyes widened and ascended the vision before me. Kathy wore charcoal stockings with a jet-black back seam. They were held perfectly in place by shiny metal clips attached to the garters of a leather waist cincher – her matching leather bra nearly reflecting her soft face. Black silk gloves beautifully contrasted her fair skin. She looked at me as if uncertain and in a modest whisper said: “Do you like it? Is it okay?” In stunned silence, I nodded in voracious approval as she turned slowly and moved across the room to the waiting body and racing thoughts of you…..