Fashion Week

It's dark when I finally arrive at the Massimo de Marco atelier. It's my last go-see of the day. I'm forty minutes late.

Inside the crumbling brick building, everything is bright, clean, and modern. An officious-looking woman with narrow glasses and a dark bun is shuffling and sorting a daunting stack of papers. She quickly looks me over and returns to her work.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to bother you. I'm Tran Banh, I'm here for my fitting?"

"You're late. We're not seeing any more girls."

"I'm so sorry, there was a fire on the Subway. I had to walk here from Aiko Aiko."

"Still. We're not doing any more fittings tonight."

Massimo comes out of the back room and shuts the door behind him. He's taller than I expected, with sleek hair down to his shoulders and a sharp jaw. He looks tired.

"Sasha? What is the problem?"

"The last model is here. I told her we're not seeing any more girls."

"No, is fine. I'm still working." He smiles at me and gestures toward the workroom. "Come, I have the most magnificent gown for you to try on. You will love it."

I trail after him, trying not to gawk. New and vintage pieces are everywhere you look. Jewelry. Rows of perfectly coiffed wigs. Coats that cost more than everything I own. I'm in awe.

"I apologize for being late," I nervously chatter. "I had to walk here from my last appointment. My feet are killing me."

"Is okay, really," he says as he takes my jacket. "I used to be a model, many, many years ago when I was a young man. I was always in trouble for being late."

"Thank you, that's nice of you to say."

"Yes, well. I'm glad you're here. I want you to wear the final piece."

"Oh, wow. I'm honored!"

"Undress, please, and stand there. I have the dress is in my office. For safe-keeping."

"Of course."

I strip down to my nude thong and strapless bra, put my heels back on, and step onto a small platform surrounded by mirrors on three sides. Twelve looks displayed on dress forms are scattered throughout the room. They're like nothing I've ever seen before, brilliantly kaleidoscopic visions of the night sky that seem to come alive in the light. Aurora borealis, Saturn's rings, the rocky Martian surface.

Massimo comes back into the workroom carrying a gown even more extraordinary than the rest. It has a plunging sweetheart neckline and ends in an elegant mermaid tail. The gown positively drips with black, white, and gold beading and crystals that look like shooting stars when they move.

"Oh my God." I cover my mouth. "It's beautiful."

"Yes. And it will look beautiful on you."

"Oh my God. It's almost too incredible to wear."

"I want you to walk like the queen of the universe. Like you have all the stars in your eyes. This is not a dress that just any woman can wear."

"I can do that."

"Good."

He carefully lays the dress out on an empty table and walks over to me. I watch his reflection in the mirror. He unhooks my bra and puts it with the rest of my clothes.

"The gown is very heavy. It will pull the undergarment."

Massimo gets on his knees and starts taking my measurements. He has a smoldering intensity that seeps into me. His touch is strong and sensual, and I start to yearn for him to go further. I snap myself out of it and try to focus on the job.

He writes down some final notes and goes to make the alterations. I watch his nimble fingers fly across the fabric. I pass the time by thinking about them inside me.

Massimo puts on the finishing touches and helps me step into the gown. He's right, it weighs a ton. But it fits like a glove and stays where it's supposed to. Wearing it makes me feel strong. Powerful. I straighten my shoulders and tip my chin toward the sky. He clasps his hands to his heart.

"You see. You are the queen. The world is yours. You are perfect."

"I really do feel like a different person." I gently sway my hips and make the fringe dance. "I feel like Joan of Arc. Like I'm wearing armor."

"Not like Joan of Arc. You are the one who sets the fire. You are the god."

I smile at myself in the mirror and admire my body.

"I start the fire."

"You start the fires."

Massimo slowly runs his hands down the sides of my body, from the very top of the dress to the very bottom. His touch soothes and lingers. The air between us is charged. He methodically checks the fit on every curve and adjusts my breasts until they defy gravity. My heart pounds in my chest.

He takes a step back to survey his work, and something happens to me. I kiss him. Impulsively. Passionately. He takes my face in his hands and expertly kisses me back. His lips are full and soft. His tongue teases mine. I'm in heaven.

He steps back and motions for me to turn around. I comply. He unzips me and carefully takes the dress off. He slowly runs his fingers down my spine.

"Don't move."

I nod and touch my neck seductively. Massimo brings the gown back to his office and sits at my feet when he returns. He touches every part of me with his hands and mouth. I look down at him worshipping my body. He touches me like a fine object.

Massimo caresses the soft part of my stomach. Massages my breasts. Licks my sternum. Pushes my underwear to the side. Kisses my hipbones.

I tremble and whimper and bite my lip to keep from moaning. He picks me up by my ass and slides his rippling cock inside me. I hold him close and kiss his ears. His strong arms hold me easily. He murmurs something in Italian. It sounds beautiful.

I watch the two of us make love in the enormous mirrors. We go on forever, reflections inside of reflections. He's so sexy, and so am I. We look like we belong among these rarified things.

The rubbing of our bodies stimulates me, and I bury my face in the crook of his neck to quiet my orgasm. He kisses the top of my head, withdraws without climaxing, and lowers me to the ground.

Massimo fixes my underwear and puts my bra back on, and he dresses me in my street clothes like he's preparing me for a show. He brushes out my hair and kisses me one last time, with great feeling.

"Remember. You are the fire."

"I will. Thank you."

"Good-night, my dear."

I try to slink out of the workroom without notice but Sasha is there to sneer at me. I feel like dropping through the floor.

"That must have been a very thorough fitting. Hope he didn't wear you out too bad, you need to walk tomorrow."

I'm angry and embarrassed and my face is hot with burgeoning tears. Then I remember. I throw my middle finger in the air as I waltz out the door.

"Eat a dick, Sasha! Ya burnt!"