At the age of forty-five, I was made a partner in the corporate law firm where I worked. This involved a move to head office on the other side of the country. Of course, I had visited head office before, but moving there, where I knew no one, was a daunting prospect. I did wonder if it might be the opportunity to meet my dream partner, but I had no idea how to go about it. As one of the senior lawyers, I had mentored interns and had always been very drawn to them, especially the confident ones. Of course, I had never done anything about it or told anyone about my thoughts. It would have undoubtedly cost me my job.

When the day came, my belongings went into storage, and with a couple of cases in the boot of my car, I set off. Fortunately, the company had set me up with an apartment for the first few months while I searched for a place of my own. Even better, it was within walking distance of the office. I spent the first couple of weeks getting used to my new office environment and settling into the apartment. I found time in the evenings and weekends to explore the area around the apartment, and while there were quite a few bars and restaurants, there was nothing that really grabbed my attention.

After that couple of weeks, I also started searching for a place of my own, deciding that a loft apartment would probably be eminently suitable. There were quite a number of warehouse conversions being done at that time, and I had the choice of a number of them, eventually settling on a 3-bedroom top-floor apartment. Quite why I wanted three bedrooms, I have no idea. My offer on that was accepted, and after that, it was a matter of waiting for the bank and the conveyancing solicitors to do their thing.

Now that I knew where I was going to be living, I decided to be adventurous and see what the area known as the gay village had to offer. Over a number of weeks, I managed to visit quite a few bars and clubs, but I wasn’t really meeting anyone. One evening, in a club, I noticed a group of young ladies chatting animatedly and felt a twinge of jealousy. One of them, in particular, caught my eye – long blonde hair, a leather dress, and boots. She must have felt me looking as she looked straight at me, forcing me to blush and turn away.

More or less, the same thing happened the following two Friday nights. She was there with her friends and caught me looking at her. I have to admit to going home and masturbating while thinking about her. I was still living in the corporate apartment, but getting closer to completing on my own place, so I was quite excited by planning how I was going to decorate it. I missed a few weeks of clubbing with all that going on and eventually got the keys. A couple more weeks and it was how I wanted it, and all my worldly goods had been delivered, even if one of the bedrooms was full of boxes.

Now that I had a spare Friday night again, I returned to the club, took a seat, and looked around, but there was no sight of the group of ladies. Sighing to myself, I nursed my glass of wine and started to think about what else I could do. After about ten minutes, I felt a tap on the shoulder and a voice confidently saying, “I assume there’s no one sitting here?” Looking up, I was stunned to see the blonde in the leather dress. Somewhat lost for words and completely embarrassed, I managed to say, “Ummm, no, Miss” – I was so flustered. She smiled as she sat, “Perhaps you’d better go and get me a Manhattan then.” Absolutely stunned, I just did as I was told and went to the bar for her Manhattan and another glass of Chardonnay for myself. I returned and set her cocktail down in front of her before sitting with my own glass.

She smiled and told me to relax, settling back and crossing her legs, which drew my eyes to her boots. I gradually managed to relax in her company as we exchanged information about ourselves. As I thought, she had seen me looking at her and had decided that she would approach me when she was not with her friends. She explained that she was looking for a particular type of woman and that I appeared to fit the profile. She said that she felt the need to be in charge of a relationship and that she particularly wanted an older woman. I blushed and just nodded, unsure of what to say. She then told me that if I was interested, I should go to the loo, remove my bra and panties, and give them to her. Nothing else for it! Returning, feeling that all eyes must be on me as I could feel my breasts swaying under my blouse, I dutifully handed them over.

She asked if I had ever read the “Story of O,” and when I replied in the negative, she took a book from her bag and handed it to me, telling me that if it didn’t put me off her, I was to purchase a proper mini skirt and crop top and return to the club without underwear the next Friday. Reading the book certainly opened my eyes – not a world I had known about before, but I was intrigued.

On that Saturday afternoon, I headed to the shops and, feeling well out of place, entered one of the stores catering to teen and twenties girls. I tried on a few skirts and tops before choosing ones I thought weren’t too revealing. I should have known that this would be a mistake, as when I entered the club, she just looked at me disapprovingly,

“Call that a mini skirt? I can see I need to take you shopping." She asked me what I thought of “The Story of O,” and I said that it had both scared and excited me. She nodded and said she assumed that, as I was there, I must still be interested, to which I agreed. She told me she had some ground rules and that if I agreed to those, we would take it from there. Compete obedience was expected of me; I was always to address her as Miss Susan or just Miss. She would choose my clothes and what I was to wear, and knickers were completely forbidden.

I agreed to that, and she told me to turn up at a particular coffee shop the next morning, dressed as I was now, so that we could go shopping. We spent the rest of the evening dancing and talking.

On Saturday morning, I turned up at the coffee shop wearing the mini skirt and crop top, as agreed the night before. Being without a bra or knickers, I was extremely self-conscious. When she arrived, I bought her a coffee (of course!). Today, she was just in jeans and a T-shirt, but still looked absolutely stunning. Over coffee, she told me where we were going – I didn’t say anything, but I was quite alarmed as I knew that there were shops that specialise in clothing for younger women.

When we went into the first shop, I wondered what on earth I’d got myself into as she selected a number of much shorter mini skirts and crop tops for me to try on! I had to come out of the changing room each time to show her. At the end of that, she selected three skirts and three tops for me to take to the counter. After I’d paid and taken the package, Miss Susan stopped me and took a skirt and a top from the bag, asking the young assistant to remove the tags and if it would be OK if I went to the changing room to change into them. Giggling, she nodded her approval and, blushing, I went to change. The skirt was so short that I really knew I couldn’t bend without exposing myself. Worse (or maybe that should be better) than that, I could feel that I was starting to become aroused by this and, returning to the counter with my clothes, I could see a broad grin on the assistant’s face.

She handed me the bag, and I put my own clothes into it as Susan looked me over, saying, “Good girl, that looks much better”, causing the assistant to giggle again. Grinning broadly, Miss Susan slapped my arse and told me to hurry along. I have to admit that I was getting really turned on by this humiliation.

Our next port of call was a fetish shop! Explaining that there was another club she wanted to take me to, she said I needed more revealing clothing for that, which really shocked me, but I didn’t dare say anything. She selected a flared vinyl skirt which didn’t even cover my arse cheeks, an open-tip vinyl bra and a matching suspender belt! She then chose a selection of toys, including a collar and leash and sent me with them to the counter to pay. Once we’d finished, we went for lunch, me having to take extreme care in how I sat down so as not to expose myself.

After lunch, we went back to my apartment, where I was told to strip for inspection. She tutted at my pubic hair, saying that it would have to go, making a phone call where I could hear her making an appointment for a full-body wax and, as an afterthought, better get nipple piercing at the same time! She wanted me to pleasure her before she went home, and, as she stripped, I was treated to the sight of her perky 32B boobs and luxuriant blonde bush. Soon I had my face buried in that bush, bringing her to orgasm. When she left, it was with strict instructions not to play with myself and that she’d be back in the morning.