Posted by Michelle on December 30, 1997 at 16:12:39:

It was a brisk fall afternoon. Cheryl McKinney was at home getting ready for what she felt was going to be a night to remember. She had just met Rob Johnson, the big time college football quarterback. Cheryl was a freshman and Rob a senior. Cheryl was majoring in civil engineering while Cheryl was just starting out in her business classes. They had an exciting date planned. First was dinner at a posh restaurant followed by taking in the opening night of Phantom of the Opera.
Cheryl was a rich girl, daughter of a wealthy business man who loved her very much. He gave her just about anything she desired. It was getting close to 6:00 pm so Cheryl proceeded to get ready. She opened her closet, looking at the vast wardrobe she had. The black knee length evening dress was certainly in order. Black sheer stockings from Fredericks of Hollywood were a perfect compliment, along with a alluring black lace garter belt. Then came the shoes. For this evening, with this dress, there was only one choice. A brand new pair of 5" high heel sandals with a see-through sole and heel. Cheryl sat on the foot of the bed and carefully slipped on her stockings and smoothed them over her silky smooth legs. Once on, she fastened them to the lace garter belt. Then the shoes. She slid them on her feet, admiring how they looked with the sheer black stockings. Cheryl then stood up and eased into her fabulous evening dress. The top needed a little adjusting, to fit properly over her ample 36C sized breasts which were encased in an equally alluring Victoria Secrets push-up style brassiere. Feeling incredible, she walked towards the full length mirror in the corner of the room. She gazed at her curvacious 5'10" frame. What a woman she was. She lifted her dress slightly, to snug up her stockings so they had that tight feeling she so loved. A quick glance at the clock on the wall told her it was time. A quick brush of her long brunette hair was all that remained. Cheryl then grabbed her handbag and saw one last thing she needed. A gold anklet. She put her foot on her bed and clasped the cold, thin chain to her right ankle. The gold anklet contrasted with the black stockings beautifully. That was it.
Cheryl walked out of the front door of her luxurious apartment and there sat waiting her most loved thing in life. A 1964 silver Chevrolet Corvette. The car was in absolute mint condition. It was given to her by her father on her 18th birthday. She could have had any new car she wanted, but when she saw that car at a dealer that specialized in Corvettes, this is what she really longed for. She had talked to Rob earlier in the day and insisted that they go in her car. With her keys in hand, she opened the door and sat in the drivers seat while keeping her muscular legs outside of the car. After that, she lifted her gorgeous stems and pivoted them to the right and into the car. Once fully in, she placed her handbag on the passenger seat and closed the door. With heightened anticipation, she eased her left foot into the cluctch, turned the key and sank that luscious right high heeled sandaled foot into the Corvettes gas pedal. The big V8 engine roared to life. A vibration from the gas pedal caused a tingle in her right foot and leg, causing Cheryl to arch her back ever so slightly. Having never driven in these shoes, let alone a shoe with this high of a heel, she gave the gas pedal a few "practice" pumps. The engine revved furociously while she slowly worked the gas pedal with those pretty sandals. While pumping, she experimented with moving her high heel around, trying to find the "right" position that allowed her the most comfort. Once satisfied that she had it mastered, it was off to get her boyfriend. It was about a 10 mile drive to his place, a lot of it on the "main drag" leaving town. The shiny Corvette was placed in 1st gear, clutch let out, and right foot easing cautiously on the gas pedal. The car was now in forward motion. At about 25 mph, Cheryl slammed the clutch to the floor, shifted, and buried that right sandaled foot back into the gas. The sheer power of this car was what she loved. Wanting to see what she was feeling, Cheryl rolled her eyes towards her right foot. The black stockings peering through the clear strap that partially covered her foot was hot. Concealing, yet revealing, she said to herself. She continued to keep that foot buried to the floor, practically working the pedal with just the tip of those sexy sandals. After her somewhat long 10 second look, trouble was ahead. Cheryl lifted her head and saw an upcoming intersection where the light was just turning red. The car was at about 60 miles per hour at this point. In a sheer state of panic, Cheryl gripped the large steering tightly, then slammed her high heeled sandals to the clutch and brake pedals. The Corvettes tires locked up and the back in started to slide to the right. Cheryl's feet pressed against the pedals with force, her calve muscles bulging, stretching her sheer stockings. She turned the steering wheel to the right, trying to keep the car in as straight a line as she could. The car started to slow. Cheryls feet were pushing the clutch and brake so hard, she felt like her feet were losing circulation. The acr almost at a stop, she lost her grip on the clutch, and her high heeled left foot slammed into the floorboard. Once the car stopped, the engine stalled. Visiblly shaken, she sat in the seat, in disbelief of what had happened. What was she doing? She had almost gotten herself and who knows who else killed. Cars started honking their horns. Composing herself, Cheryl put the car in neutral, then attempted to start the car. She turned the key then started to slowly pump the gas pedal. Nothing. Visibly upset, Cheryl arched her silky foot and started to pound on the gas pedal. She did so with rythmic thrusts, rear end slightly off the seat, back arched. She was hitting that pedal so hard, you could here the sole of her sandal slap against the innocent gas pedal, echoing throughout the car. The big beast still would not come to life. Tears starting to shed from her eyes, she cradled her head in her soft hands. She could not believe what was happening. Her night to remember was turning into a nightmare. The cars in the intersection continued to blow their horns mercilessly. The Corvette was about half way into the intersection at a 45 degree angle. Cheryl continued to have her face buried into her hands when she heard a tapping sound on the driver's side window. It was a man. Approximately 6"3" tall, muscular build, casually attired. It was the stranger.