Christchurch was glowing under the weekend lights, the kind of night where the air feels warm even when the temperature doesn’t. You and your wife — Bollywood, as you call her when she’s dressed to command a room — stepped out of the car ready for a proper night at a cocktail bar.

You kept it sharp and understated: black dress pants, polished shoes, crisp white shirt. Clean, confident, classic.

Bollywood, though… she was the headline act.

She wore black stiletto knee‑high boots, a red leather mini skirt, and a white corset‑style top that framed her figure with bold, dramatic lines. Over it all, she had a long black coat, the kind that moves like a curtain being pulled back on a stage. She didn’t have to try — she simply arrived, and the room adjusted around her.

As you walked toward the bar entrance, conversations dipped. Not silent — just shifted.

A couple paused mid‑sentence. A guy nudged his mate. A woman in a silver dress gave Bollywood a quick up‑and‑down look, the kind that says respect. Even the men with their partners couldn’t help but glance over, caught off‑guard by the confidence and colour she brought into the room.

Inside, the lighting caught the shine of her boots and the red of her skirt, turning her into the most vivid thing in the bar. You found two stools at the counter, and Bollywood slid onto hers with effortless control, crossing one knee‑high boot over the other.

The bartender approached, sleeves rolled up, grin already forming.

“Evening. You two are definitely dressed for a good night. What can I get you?”

Bollywood tilted her head, playful but composed. “Something strong,” she said. “Something red.”

He laughed softly. “I can work with that.”

You ordered an Old Fashioned — “Make it proper,” you added — and he nodded, already impressed.

A couple settled into the seats beside you. The woman wore a sequined black dress; her partner tried not to stare at Bollywood but failed miserably.

The woman leaned over with a friendly smile. “I love your coat. That’s… dramatic.”

Bollywood smiled back. “Sometimes you’ve got to give the city a little theatre.”

The woman laughed. “Well, you’re doing it.”

Her partner chimed in, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, you two look sharp tonight.”

Bollywood gave a polite nod — the kind that acknowledges the compliment without inviting anything more.

Your drinks arrived just as the bar door swung open again. A loud group entered, already warmed up from wherever they’d been. One of the guys spotted Bollywood instantly and froze mid‑step. His girlfriend noticed.

“What are you looking at?” she snapped.

He panicked, looked away too fast, and nearly tripped over the step. His mates burst out laughing. Bollywood didn’t react — she simply reached for her cocktail, the deep red catching the light, and took a slow sip.

You leaned closer. “You’re causing chaos tonight.”

She smirked. “I’m just walking.”

The woman beside her was still smiling to herself, replaying the earlier exchange. Bollywood shifted slightly, turning toward her. The coat opened just enough to reveal more of the red skirt and the shine of her boots.

The woman noticed immediately.

Bollywood rested her hand lightly on the woman’s knee — a confident, warm, socially bold gesture. Not suggestive, just deliberate. A touch that said: Relax. I like your vibe.

The woman froze for half a second, then let out a soft laugh.

“Oh… you’re confident.”

Bollywood’s voice stayed smooth. “I appreciate people who carry themselves well.”

The woman’s partner looked over, confused. “What’s going on?”

The woman didn’t pull away. She simply placed her hand over Bollywood’s for a moment — a friendly, appreciative squeeze — before letting it rest back on her lap.

“Nothing,” she said. “Just girl talk.”

Bollywood gave her a small, knowing smile. “Exactly.”

The woman looked down at her knee where Bollywood’s hand had been, then back up with a spark of playful disbelief.

“You’re dangerous,” she whispered.

Bollywood winked. “Only if someone deserves it.”

You watched the exchange, amused. Bollywood wasn’t flirting romantically — she was doing what she always does: taking control of the room’s energy, choosing her moments, and making someone feel seen in a way that left them glowing.

After a few more hours of cocktails bollywood and the woman were hitting it off, one ofthe womans husbands work clients was at the bar and the hubby was chatting to him with back to wife , bollywood hand slips up and the womans dress, the woman who we will call stacie , let out a wee mmmmm sound and didnt stop bollywoods hand, bollywood then grabbed the womans hand and put it just at the bottom of her leather skirt, By now stacie had a few cocktails and slid her hand up bollywood leather dress only to find she wasnt wearing any panties , bolly let out a wee moan , then said to stacie got go to toilet , and stacie said oh yes i do too , PART 2 TO COME