The Black Dress

It was during a quiet afternoon stroll on a shopping trip that Nix stumbled across it a boutique tucked between a florist and a wine bar, its window display catching her eye with a flowing maxi dress that practically called her name.

She slipped inside, taking her time as she wandered through the boutique. Her fingers drifted lazily across the delicate fabrics soft silks, crisp linens, the occasional shimmer of something sheer. The shop had a sultry presence, like it was hiding little secrets between the hangers.

At the back, she paused at a rack of lingerie. Lace bras. Matching knickers. The kind of thing she'd wear just to drive me mad. Her fingers played with a deep green set, all straps and barely any fabric. Pure temptation.

"Looking for anything special today?" came a woman's voice light, pleasant, with just a hint of something knowing.

Nix turned, offering a small smile to the shop assistant. Poised. Polite. The perfect professional. But it was the assistant by the till who held her attention. Young. Clean-cut. Trying his best not to stare, but clearly watching as her hands traced the edges of a red thong.

"Just browsing," she replied smoothly, her voice casual, lips curling into that wicked little smile she wears when she's up to no good.

The woman nodded and moved on, but the moment lingered. Nix knew full well she had an audience. Her fingertips brushed the lace of one final set. She picked it up and held it against her body in front of the mirror. Catching the cashier's eye, she gave the faintest smile before turning away. In the reflection, she saw the black dress. Sleek. Daring. It made promises before it was even on her body.

She added it to the collection over her arm and disappeared behind the velvet curtain of the boudoir-style changing rooms. Dropping the garments onto the chaise longue, she let the curtain fall shut behind her, her body already humming with anticipation.

She peeled off her jeans and the vintage 80s T-shirt she always looked effortlessly sexy in. Her fingers lingered on the dress a black cocktail number. Sleek. Minimal.

She had just pulled the dress over her hips when she realised she couldn't quite reach the zip at the back. The silky fabric hugged her too tightly, resisting every twist of her arms. With a quiet sigh and a grin to herself, she stepped just slightly out of the curtain and caught the eye of the female assistant.

"Would you mind giving me a hand?" Nix asked, her voice soft.

"Of course," the woman replied, stepping in with a warm smile.

The assistant's hands were quick, efficient, but gentle as she slid the zip up, securing the dress in place. Her eyes lingered in the mirror for a moment, clearly appreciating how the garment clung to Nix's body, before she offered a polite nod and returned to the shop floor.

The silky fabric fell over her body. She smoothed it down slowly, then looked up and smiled.

That dress didn't just fit. It clung. Hugged her. Simple, elegant, and oozing with the kind of sex appeal that didn't beg it dared.

It dared her to take things further. And of course, she did. A boldness. A wicked curiosity. With a devilish glint in her eye, she reached behind herself, unzipping the dress once more. Letting it fall to her hips. With a playful flick of her finger, her bra strap was undone. She slid the straps down and pulled it free. Then, with a little smirk, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers. With a slow shimmy of her hips, she slipped them down her thighs, letting them pool at her feet.

She stood there for a moment, utterly bare beneath the dress. She hesitated.

The zip. Again. Too far to reach.

This time, she simply asked for help without poking her head out. The male assistant stepped in. His gaze was obvious. He'd clearly been observing, trying not to, but failing spectacularly.

"Sorry," she said, her voice featherlight. "Could I trouble you to zip me back up?"

He froze for a beat. Blinked. Then nodded and stepped in fully.

His fingers careful, trembling slightly touched the back of the dress, slowly drawing the zip up. Grazing her spine through the thin fabric. She watched him in the mirror the entire time. Watched the way he tried not to look. Not to breathe too deeply. But Nix could feel it the tension. The heat.

"Thank you," she said softly, her eyes locking with his in the mirror before he turned and quietly left.

She looked in the mirror again, this time bolder. Bare beneath the fabric. Her eyes alight with mischief.

She couldn't keep it to herself.

Her phone sat on the little sofa in the corner. She grabbed it and messaged me straight away.

Nix: Hey, I'm at this little boutique and found something amazing.

I paused just long enough to let her wonder.

Me: Oh? What did you find?

There was a short delay. I imagined her biting her lip, glancing at her reflection one more time before snapping the photo and hitting send.

When it came through...

Me: Bloody hell. That's not bad at all.

Nix: Haha. Has it made you a little bit hard?

Cheeky minx.

Me: You know it has. Now, buy it.

Nix: You're mad. It's so tight... I wouldn't be able to wear anything underneath.

In fact, I'm not.

She knew exactly what that would do to me.

Me: Is that so? Then that's the best part.

Nix: Besides, what kind of girl do you think would wear something like this?

Me: Not a sensible one. But one who looks absolutely stunning in it. Like you. Buy it. No excuses.

Nix: Haha. Where would I even wear something like this?

Me: What about Hannah's do? Perfect excuse.

Nix: Don't be silly. You know it's just girls going.

Me: Then I'll meet you after. We'll go for drinks. I'd love to see my wife turn a few heads.

I pictured her smirking at her phone, shaking her head the way she always does when I push her buttons.

Nix: Would you like that? Me, in this sexy black number, catching everyone's attention?

Me: Absolutely. Watching you flirt and tease again, like the old days... just for one night.

Nix: You're so bad. Picture it... you watching me dance with some stud, his hands on me...

You wouldn't be jealous?

Me: Of course I would. But I'd be proud too. And very turned on.

She was loving this now. I could feel it.

Nix: You're a naughty man... and I love it.

Me: Imagine it... you grinding on him, teasing him with your body, driving him mad...

Nix: What if I picked someone with big arms to wrap around me, pulling me into his chest, teasing him even more?

She wasn't done.

Nix: Should I? Push my peachy arse back, grind on him, feel his cock against me...

Me: Steady on. I'm at work.

Nix: Maybe I'd let him slide his big hands around my waist... let one wander up to cup a breast. Squeeze just enough to make my nipples hard. The fabric's so tight, you'd easily see them firm and aching, poking through like they're begging for more.

There was a long pause after that.

She knew exactly what she'd done.

Me: For fuck's sake, Nix. I'll buy the bloody dress.

She smirked reading it, heart racing, skin tingling. She stared at herself in the mirror a while longer, feeling bold. Dangerous. Irresistible.

Then she flicked her hair over her shoulder and typed:

Nix: Alright, Mr Naughty. Deal. But if you're buying it, you've got to take me somewhere I can wear it.

She didn't try on the rest. She knew that was the one. She changed again slower this time. Reluctant to peel herself out of the dress, but knowing it would only be more fun the second time around. She let it fall to the floor gently and stood for a moment, completely nude. Her body still warm, tingling from the teasing thrill of our exchange.

She reached for her jeans and T-shirt, but paused.

The curtain. It wasn't fully closed.

She glanced in the mirror and saw the till reflected perfectly in the gap. And standing right there, looking back towards the changing room, was the young assistant.

If she could see him... he could absolutely see her.

She didn't move. Not right away. Letting the moment hang. Her bare figure perfectly framed by the light and shadows of the mirror.

Then, with the smallest smile tugging at her lips, she skipped her bra and pulled on her T-shirt slow and unbothered. The fabric skimmed over her skin, making her nipples harden, but leaving everything else deliciously exposed just a little longer.

Jeans followed. No knickers. She tossed them with her bra into her handbag, smirking.

Pushing her fingers through her hair, Nix scooped up the dress and stepped out with a quiet confidence that could have stopped hearts. judging by the look on the assistant's face as she approached the till it had.

She handed over my credit card with that wicked grin of hers. When he gave it back and she slipped it into her bag, she pulled out her knickers, passing them back to him.

"Could you take care of these?" she said with a cheeky giggle, before leaving the shop.

Her phone buzzed again.

Me: Anywhere you want, gorgeous. How about a night in London next weekend? Just you, me... and that dress.

Nix: It's a date. But be warned... I'm going to drive you mad.

Me: I wouldn't want it any other way. I can't wait to see you in it.

She slid her phone into her pocket and stepped out onto the street. My wife. The teasing little minx. Her new black dress folded neatly over her arm.

She smiled, cheeks still flushed from the thrill of it all the cheeky exchange, the unspoken tension, the way the young assistant's eyes had lingered on her like he'd never seen curves like hers up close. It was a stolen moment, fleeting but electric. Later, when she told me everything, her voice dipped low, velvety, laced with wicked delight. She said she could still feel the burn of his gaze on her skin, long after she'd left. The way he'd looked at her in the mirror... she hoped I'd look at her the same way across a candlelit table in London. Hungry. Wanting. And maybe, just maybe, some handsome stranger would be watching too from the shadows of the bar, his eyes locked on the curve of her hips. Desperate to touch. Hungry to taste. She toyed with the thought of giving him a dance. Slow. Deliberate. Her body doing all the talking. Letting him feel her.

She flashed that devilish smile.

Can you imagine me grinding, knowing I'd stirred something primal? Something possessive...

And left you ravenous for me.