Dressmaker

"David, I saw you there. I wish we had caught up." Hearing her voice again sent prickles over his back.

"David, I have three women here who want you to make them a dress. Happy Valentine's Day, David." He could feel her breath and hair on his neck.

"David, please call me as soon as you can. Fifteen more ladies want one. Please ring me." He could feel the soft press of her breasts against him and was almost in tears with the memory. He made himself coffee and drank as he thought. The phone rang again. He didn't answer it. He couldn't explain his two and a half month absence. He didn't know why.

It had been difficult living duel lives, one of carrying hods of cement for the brick layer and the other in the atmosphere of Vivienne's sophistication. The easiest way was to go back to farting with the boys. He knew he lacked the sophistication to be attractive to her and he knew he had to get over her as fast as possible. He was shocked when she talked of him being a brick layer's laborer while on the catwalk at the fashion parade. It had been a carefully guarded secret. He slowly drank the coffee, made another and with his heart in his mouth he rang.

She was so pleased when he said hello. Her relief was palpable.

"How are you?" she asked. His response was hesitant and awkward. She changed to business, worried he'd hang up.

"We have orders. Nineteen want dresses. Yellow dresses but not necessarily yellow. There is a lot of interest." She paused and waited for a response. "Red dresses are in demand too." She waited again but still there was no response. "Would you like to make lingerie?" she asked. "I didn't count the inquiries, there were too many." She could hear him fumbling for some thing to say. "Do you want to be busy?" she asked. There was silence for a time.

"Yes." he said.

"We need to talk."

"Ok."

"Meet me?"

"When?"

It was late, nearly two in the morning but he was in the car and on his way. They met at the college, in the classroom he'd seen so much of. His chair was missing but Vivienne was there. She gave him a nervous peck on the cheek in greeting. She offered coffee and he accepted. He went with her and found the mugs while she topped up the kettle. They leaned against the bench top, both anxious all would go well.

"Wow," Vivienne exhaled. He looked at his feet and moved one a little. "What did you think of the fashion show," she asked.

"I was surprised. I didn't expect my work to be shown." She smiled.

"It was easily the best of the year." He blushed and changed to his other foot. "You were the only male student," she told him. "Initially we thought you'd be with us for two lessons. We thought you leaving would be disruptive. But you stayed. We found it difficult to put you in a class after that. What takes others six years took you two. Remarkable for some one who turned up with a brand new, unused sewing machine. You didn't even know how to thread the needle." They both smiled, David with embarrassment and Vivienne with pride. She poured the coffees and they went to the drafting table to sit.

"I'm sorry about last time you were here," Vivienne said and looked at her hands, she was nervously wrapping her fingers around each other. He looked down at his hands and opened them as he spoke.

"I'm the one who should apologize. I'm the one who left in a rush and didn't stay to talk. I've been embarrassed since and wanted to come and apologize but couldn't think of how." His speech was slow and hesitant. "I'm the one who was the problem. I'm so sorry." He was almost in tears. She leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss in the forehead. He looked up at her and wanted to say something but couldn't.

"You know you did very well at the fashion parade," she said. "You have so many orders- for little red dresses, little yellow dresses and lingerie. You know, you were a hit. This has been our best Valentine's Day ever." She reached out to him and took his hand. You have to make a choice. You can make dresses and underwear for people, or you can sell the patents for the little yellow dress to be made commercially and you get royalties, or you can do nothing." She looked at him, willing him to choose, and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

"Really?" he asked. He was looking at her, took her other hand in his and squeezed them both.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Can I think about it?" he asked. She kissed his forehead again.

"I'd like to enter your dresses in a much bigger fashion show. I want to get you a very good contract." She was rasping her finger nails over his forearms. As she leaned forward her breasts were full against her stretched bra. He looked at them for some time. She watched and gently pushed towards him.

He reached to her and put his fingers under the front openings, as he had when a student. She felt his rough cement hands graze her nipples as he examined the cut. She could barely breathe. He reached to a button, then another and slowly he unbuttoned them all. With her shirt pushed back on her shoulders he looked at the bra. He reached around and gently unclasped it. His fingers went over her breasts slowly as he checked for pressure marks. He lifted her breasts in his hands and looked at her nipples, so big on their wrinkled areolas.

Slowly he leaned forward and took her nipples, one by one, into his mouth and sucked them. She thrust her breasts towards him, her lungs so full she couldn't breathe easily. She put her hands on the sides of his face. Slowly she stood at the drafting table and he followed. He kissed her mouth and as she turned to sit he gently lifted her onto the table.

The kiss was breathless as he sucked her lower lip into his mouth. She moaned. Slowly he kissed her face, her forehead, cheeks, eyes, down her chin and neck to her breasts. The kiss went around her nipples, one at a time before he sucked them deep into his mouth and she sighed. His lips traveled from her breast, to dance on her ribs and she giggled, as he unhooked her skirt.

He started sucking her skin as his lips trailed on her stomach and his fingers lowered her zip. She lifted and he pushed her skirt down her legs. She sighed, her eyes closed- she couldn't bear to look. What a Valentine's Day! Already it was better than she'd dreamed to expect.

His lips found her panties and went over them to suck her through them. She reached to pull them down but his hand stopped her. He sucked as he worked slowly down to the wet gusset and pushed her legs apart. She bent them and lowered her knees to the sides. The gusset was narrow and he licked the exposed parts of her labia.

He didn't look up as he reached for scissors. She thrust her pussy at him and felt the cold steel as he cut her panties away. He didn't stop sucking as his lips slid seamlessly into her pussy and she moaned. He vacuumed her lips into his mouth and his tongue pushed them to his palate. She squirmed, held his head, wrapped his hair in her hands and pulled him deeper. She felt the heat of his breath and the pressure of his nose.

The suction stopped. She could feel her labia retract and his tongue slowly, gently licked its way up her channel. She felt it, so smooth, and pushed herself towards him, impatient for more. The tongue continued and she wailed. So slow, frustrating and- she wailed again. She could feel him, his warmth, as he slowly progressed.

She pulled at his hair, she was so ready for more, and suddenly his tongue touched her clitoris. She wrenched at his hair and slowly the broad flat of his tongue moved along until the tip of his tongue was there and in a quick move it reversed across her clitoris. With a jolt she jumped uncontrollably on the table and screamed. He held her to stop her falling as she soared with her clitoris in the warmth of his mouth. She felt his hands on her hips as she jittered on the table and screamed. Slowly the jitters lost their frequency and power, her breath regained coordination. She began to giggle and laugh.

She pulled him close and ripped his shirt off with buttons flying over the room. She hooked her fingers under the waist of his jeans and slid a hand in to hold his swollen cock as she undid his belt and jeans. With them on the floor she pulled him by the hands to be beside her. They lay together, watched the glimmers of early morning light and hugged each other. Vivienne, with her legs open, her sex flooded and hot, waited.

*

Notes.

*"Duck on the pond"- A phrase used to indicate the presence of a woman in the work area, mostly used in shearing sheds but used more widely too. It's an indication for the men to behave.

*hod- Builder's light open trough on staff for carrying mortar etc,- Çoncise Oxford