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Tragedy, love and, finally, sex, as the story ends.

The house was L shaped and from the corner I could see a small patio leading from a sliding glass door. inside I could see her in the kitchen. She had slipped off the blue jacket of her suit and her silky white blouse was half un-tucked from her skirt. She was looking in a cupboard clearly deciding on lunch.

I hugged the wall of the house and tried to keep an eye on her as I moved closer. Not that I had anywhere to hide if she saw me. How far was the run back to my car? What do I do when that sliding door is locked, as I know it has to be? What if she's not alone?

While I thought about these things she walked out of the kitchen. For a brief moment I thought about bolting back to my car and going back to work. That would be the sane thing to do. But then I thought about my wife. How she would nag me for forgetting my anti-snore strips. How difficult it would be to talk her into sex. My wife didn't wear sexy lingerie nor did she wear designer hosiery. She wore pant suits at work with trouser socks. She dictated the terms of love making: No doggy style, only in the bedroom, and never, under any circumstances, would she give me oral sex.

But this woman, it wouldn't matter what she wanted. I was going to take her how I wanted her. I could force her to do what ever I wanted! I would fuck her all afternoon! With that thought I ran at the sliding door. In a burst of adrenaline I yanked on the door, heard something pop, and the door flew aside. Much like my sliding door at home, it was cheep and the plastic lock had given way to the force I had placed on it.

"Who's there?" came a panicked voice from the other room. I ran into the house and toward that voice. She said it again only louder this time and I ran down a hallway toward an open door. As I reached the door she stepped into it. instinctively I wrapped my arms around her as we collided, just as if I was playing football in high school again.

Together we bounced off the near wall and then crashed to the floor. I heard the air rush out of her lungs when we landed and she struggled to breathe as I lay on top of her. I was a bit dazed myself and tunnel vision enveloped my sight. I stared at her neck closely, looking at the smooth skin. Her fragrance enveloped my nostrils, intoxicating me with the lust for her body. I looked down her blouse at her cleavage and then further to her legs.

She had taken her skirt off. Her blouse draped just at the top of her thighs and her long pantyhose covered legs were displayed in front of me. One shoe had been knocked off in the collision and her bare nylon foot caught the sun just right making it shine and appear superbly silky.

She started to cough as she got her wind back and I realized that I was in her bedroom. No one else had shouted. I don't know how long we lie on the floor but if there was another person in the house they hadn't heard anything nor had they come to her rescue. I stood up and manhandled her to her feet.

On the bed lay her skirt neatly folded and next to it the package of new hosiery. The pantyhose had been removed and lie in a bunch next to the package. She must have been in the act of switching to her undamaged hose.

She was still dazed and it seemed she hadn't quite found her breath. I roughly turned her and bent her over the bed. I wrestled with her until I had both her arms pinned behind her back. I grabbed the pantyhose on the bed and used them to bind her wrists and forearms together. It took me a moment as I adjusted her arms to fold across the small of her back and then wrap them in the sheer nylon. When I finished tying the knots she started to scream for help.

I grabbed the back of her head and forced her face into the bed, cutting off her scream.

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