Laura was having a hectic day. She had lived in New York for only two months and was already finding it hard going. From a small town in Texas, she had worked her way up through college, specializing in public relations, and finally got the chance of a lifetime, with a highly sought after career in New York City. Laura had just been promoted to marketing director for North & Central America and was in charge of client relations of the hundred plus companies that partnered with her's in one form or another. Her good looks, southern charm, and consummate professionalism ensured that her bosses prized her highly.

Laura lived in a small, humble, but still over-priced apartment 12 blocks from work. Currently Laura was living alone, her husband and kids would soon be joining her after their home sold in Texas and the kids finished school. She was highly attractive. Recently turned 30, but could easily pass for a college coed. Everything about her perfectly fit the stereotype of the 'girl next-door.' She had a pretty face and beautiful and expressive big brown eyes, pouting rich lips, and gorgeous light brown hair which cuffed her face. Laura had given birth to three kids and was proud of how she had lost the baby weight and actually weighed less now than in college. Laura was never blessed with large breasts and to make things worse, her breasts shrank a cup size after having kids leaving her in an A-cup. Her hips were wide, her grandmother told her she had breeding hips, and she guessed they were since Laura was highly fertile. Once her husband moved up to NYC they were going to decide if they wanted to have a forth child. Her ass was perfect by all accounts. Her legs were long, but shapely, well curved; her feet, petite and graceful. She was sweet, kind and highly feminine, yet did not comprehend that others outside of her husband might be attracted to her, naive to the leering eyes, dirty minds and sexual advances of her coworkers and her neighbors. Everyone at work and in her apartment bloc, noticed her looks and her pleasant nature and it seemed to empower the inner perverts and devious minds of the men around her.

One thing that everyone agreed on, Laura looked magnificent when dressed for work. She was very particular about her appearance. She wasn't interested that much in clothes for the sake of it '96 rather, her appearance was a matter of pride to her, for as yet she had little else to show for her efforts apart from pride, because of the cost of living in a city like New York. She always wore to work business skirts, blouses, heels, tight little jackets, and had a fondness for hose, especially nude hose which flattered the natural light tan of her legs '96 her legs were a cock-warming mixture of curves, curves, curves, sallow skin and the odd freckle. Today, she was at her best, or near-best. She wore a light, silky white blouse, with a small lining of frill at the edge covering the breast and shoulder area. The shoulder strap area barely covered the strap of her bra and exposed her long, lovely arms; her bra encased her boobs in such a way that they were as pert as a college coed, but no amount of padding could stop her nipples from poking through, another new change since having kids, her nipples were always hard even when she was not stimulated. Her husband loved her new pokies, being a leg man he didn't care about breast size, now content to twist her nipples until they almost popped off in his hand. Underneath her skirt, despite the hot weather, Laura wore nude hose again, probably because her husband had a fetish for hose and it made her feel closer to him and enjoyed taking photos and sending them to him throughout the day to excite him. This day, Laura wore a business skirt that was actually much shorter than she had expected or wanted, but she was late, no time to change. The skirt clung to her broad hips, pert ass, and attractive fertile womb area that slightly protruded. In short, she was poured into it. Her heels were pretty little three-inch pumps, very pointy in front, but comfortable enough to walk in.

Even in the metro that morning, the heat was stifling. When Laura hit the streets, she nearly suffocated. She was perspiring, beads, nay rivers, of sweat pouring down her cute face and onto her chest area, forming rivulets between her breasts. She looked dazzling though '96 not many to match her. She was like a queen as she glazed down the streets, shades on, her hair bobbing beautifully up and down, her fine pair of legs exposed by the combination of a little slit skirt and her habit of big paces, each big pace stretching the slit in the back of her skirt. Some men stropped just to watch her walk by, a few whistled.

In work, Laura cooled down, with the help of lots of iced water. Workmates fixed on her as she wiped ice-cubes across her face and forehead and furtively rubbed her shapely legs, cooling, cooling down. After a while, Laura had calmed down; in the ladies room, she restored her pristine beauty, perfecting her delicate make-up. She carefully checked her hose and '96 horror! '96 got upset when she discovered a little running behind the left calf. She tried to fix it, laboriously running her gentle fingers over it, twisting and twirling her legs trying to solve the problem, until immediately desisting when she saw one of the black construction workers looking in through the bathroom window. She ran out of there, back to her office. But she was too decent, too nice, and perhaps too new to complain about a peeping tom.

Fortunately, her boss, a decent guy, ended the day early at 3.30 so staff could go home and enjoy this exceptional weather. Laura dashed for the metro, looking forward to an evening of sleep, wine, and DVD television '96 shy by nature, she had yet to make real friends in this strange, big city. However, Laura's lack of familiar knowledge with New York meant she got confused and misread the metro on her way home. After a few surprising metro stops, she decided to try her luck and get out. As she ascended the stairs and got out onto the street, a feeling of dread overcame her. This definitely was not her home district. The place looked derelict, full of abandoned slabs of masonry that, generously, could be called buildings. Few people seemed to be around: some wizened women pushing trolleys, a few drunken old black men with bottles wrapped in brown paper. A dog barking. Laura, nervous, walked on, and on, and on, hoping to find a nice police officer to give her directions home. She turned a corner, into as it turned out an alleyway full of trashcans and discarded bottles, syringes and what looked like vomit against walls. Looking behind her again and again, feeling more and more nervous, she tried to ignore that somebody '96 somebody '96 might be watching her: her legs and hose quite visible as she swish-swished in that flimsy skirt, her breasts in her thin white blouse could not hide her hard nipples from showing through as she walked faster, faster. Too fast. Her heel gave out, not quite broken, but damaged. She bent down, the hem of her skirt rising almost up to her waist, her rich shapely legs wide apart, the hose on their lovely shape glistening in the late afternoon sun. She tried to fix the heel but then noticed that the run on her hose on her calf rear had worsened.

'Yo bitch' startled her! She looked up to see four teens coming towards her, big guys, young but strong, smiling, smirking, fuckers with attitude. She stood to attention, frozen. 'Yo, fat ass, come here, we show you good time bitch'. Hollers, whistles, and multiple curse words and sexual allegory. She turned, and walked fast, fast, fast, faster, trying to ignore their rising hollers and whistles as her legs swish-swished. She was perspiring now, from fear, not the heat. The sound of her heels, so high, so awkward, so vulnerable, turned the teens on even more as they raped her with their eyes and in their minds. They had done a gangbanging before, a girl they met at a party had passed out and they made sure it was the worst night of her life. But this was different, this was prime baby! They began jogging after her, taking their time '96 they knew she was trapped. A rising tempo of lust, aggression, revenge, hatred swelling them as they psyched themselves up for the fuck of a lifetime. She began sobbing, her mascara turning to liquid as she tried to run, but her heels held her up. She was desperate to get outta there, but deep down knew she couldn't. She turned the corner, but her damaged heel now broke altogether.