I went to see a movie with a friend, probably sometime in the winter of 2003. As we were entering the cinema I happened to glance to one side. A married couple was entering the doors across from us. A tall man in a brown leather bomber jacket opened the door for his wife. His wife was a very attractive woman in her thirties, wearing dark sunglasses. She had short, jet black hair. It was very cold and windy outside that day. This pretty lady was dressed well for the cold. Her hands were pushed deep inside the pockets of a splendid black leather coat. The hem of her leather coat brushed against her calves. Her leather coat was sealed snugly about her by five buttons and a belt tied around her slender waist. The smooth-grain coat shined like liquid in the bright sunlight. The unbuttoned collar of a white Oxford shirt encircled her throat. The notched collar of her leather coat was turned up around her neck. I find that very attractive for some reason. We entered the cinema. The lady's coat fit her close around the breasts and hips. With each step she took, her coat indented beneath her
backside, and highlighted the shapely roundness of her behind in shiny leather. I couldn't help watching her gleaming leather coat shift over her great body as she moved. She withdrew her hands from her coat pockets, revealing black leather gloves on her hands. It was time to choose a ticket line. My friend was oblivious to the leather lady, and, to my dismay, she randomly chose a ticket line on the opposite side of the room from where the couple got in line. Otherwise I would have gotten in line behind her without thinking about it. So I lost sight of this lovely leather lady. A white shirt, a long leather coat, and leather gloves combined to look spectacular on a lovely woman.
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