X-Ray Vision Ch. 03: Explored

...

I showed up after work, having received a summons from my sister early this morning. Half asleep I answered the phone, she'd apparently been up all night, wanted me to come over right away! But just this once I 'pulled her chain', told her that older sister or not, I had to go to work, could come over after.

She was in the back when I went in, with a customer, a woman her age. Giving the lady bejesus over a beautiful dress, torn halfway down one side. It was in Vietnamese so I didn't get any details, but she was steamed. The lady left the dress and beat a retreat, red-faced and embarrassed.

She ranted on for a minute until she remembered who I was, switched to English. "I don't care it was their anniversary, he doesn't get to ruin my dress! No respect! It'll take hours to fix. Look at that! That panel! And that! Has to be ripped out, replaced, match the dye lot, maybe it can't be done! What, I start over, make her a new dress from scratch? Who does she think she is!"

I waited, hands behind my back, waiting for her to run down, not a little concerned. I'd never seen her in this mood!

She tossed the ruin onto a pile of scraps, looked at it with her hands on her hips, angry. Picked it up again, running down, thoughtful now. "But maybe a different dress...without that panel. Open on the side, stitched top and bottom, tension over the shoulder to make it lay flat. Hm. She has the tits for it. Hm."

She saw me again, smiled! Tossed the ruin back on the pile. "Hey! Jilly! I did it! Last night I had a vision, saw what your dress was going to be, your Greg-fuck-me dress! So I made it! It's everything! Sexy! Beautiful! Dangerous! Sexy! You will make it move like snakeskin, make it live! You have to try it! Strip!"

"How long have you been awake? What have you eaten today?"

She looked blank. "Huh? I don't know. Take off your clothes! Look at this!"

She had all the symptoms of an artist driven mad by lack of sleep and caffeine. Eyes bright, emotions a rollercoaster. Her teapot smoking on the burner, clearly boiled dry, probably been drinking caffeine all night, working all day. I set the pot aside, turned off the burner.

I was interested in that dress. "Show me!"

She had a sheet over a dress dummy, plucked the corner, whipped it up and away.

There on the dummy was an astonishing little black dress, breathtaking in it's brevity, heart-stopping in it's shocking design.

Khang took my blazer, stripped it off. When she reached to unbutton my blouse, I put a hand out.

"You eat something, then I'll try on the dress."

"Don't be silly!"

"That's the deal! What do you have here?"

She looked frustrated, then put a hand to her stomach, surprised. "I'm hungry!"

She scrounged a bag of sesame candy, some leftover brown rice, started stuffing it in. Reached for her teacup; I headed her off, dumped it, filled it with water. She took it, looked outraged, then drank it in a single pull.

Once her stomach was appeased she absently set the bowl on a shelf. There were two other bowls up there.

Now I let her strip me. It was fun! Not long ago we'd considered being lovers; I still thought she looked cute as shit.

When she went for my panties, I objected. "I have to wear some underwear!"

Her head popped up, looked me square in the eyes, alarmed. "No underwear! Nothing is to go under! Just you! All you! You and the dress! The whole point!"

The panties went.

She started on the dress, unhitching it from the dress dummy. It was mostly of black satin with a form-fitting lace bodice, shaped and lined with sheer fabric. There were no straps; no obvious way it would actually stay on me.

It had a skirt, I guess. Just a ruffle of silk to cover the crotch, a little longer on one side.

She finished untying and unbuttoning, pulled a silk ribbon on one side, it fell open like a clamshell into her arms. Put the ribbon in her teeth.

"Arms out!" she said, but muffled by the ribbon. I raised my arms obediently, feeling quite vulnerable, stark naked in front of my sister, utterly open to her. She didn't seem to notice, all business now.

Crouched, she made me raise one foot, slipped a band on, then the other. Scooted the whole arrangement up my legs to my crotch, snugged it in place. To my relief the dress had something like panties built in, a thong really.

The dress was closed on one side, open on the other. She put her arms around me, her face to my armpit, struggled to reach the scraps of fabric and pull them into place and closed.

"Hold this!" I bent one elbow to keep the bodice up with the palm of my hand. She took the ribbon from her mouth, threaded the silk through some loops up her side, threaded back down again. Held that while she tugged and adjusted.

"Let go!" I cautiously released the dress, surprised to find it stayed put. It still gaped on the side opposite the closure. She tied a loose knot in the cord.

Coming around Khang started at the bottom, began buttoning a series of black pearl buttons through tiny buttonholes, closing the gap. She took care, not putting any stress on them, just getting them through the tiny holes but not tugging.

Going back around she untied the silk, tugged a little here and there, snugged up the ribbon and tied it in a cute bow.

Standing back, she admired the fit. "Turn!" So I turned on bare feet, small steps, slowly revolving around and back to face her. Her face was shining.

"You make it work! You make my dress look like heaven! Oh Jillian, I love sewing for you, designing for you! You have such boobs! A butt! Oh those hips!" She was beside herself.

Compared to her tiny girl friends I did have a butt, hips. I looked over my shoulder at a mirror, to look at myself.

But I wasn't there! Some strange beauty was there, in a black predatory sleeve of conquest that hid nothing, outlined everything.

The bodice reached barely to the center of my breasts, just covering my nipples! Nothing at all on the back, naked to my waist. Butt bare, legs bare.

"Where's the rest of it!" I blurted. I was alarmed. Could I go out in this? Go to a club in this?

"It doesn't even cover my boobs!" Khang stepped in front, considered my chest. Thrust her hand into the bodice, tugged my boobs as high as they would go! Leaving them bursting out the sheer fabric, my nipples a ghostly outline in silk just below.

I didn't have a lot, but in this dress it looked like a million bucks.

I had a hundred questions. "Why is the skirt mostly not there?"

"You can't dance properly in a full skirt."

"Full skirt! That's not even enough for a belt! And I don't know if Greg even dances!"

She looked at me like I was her silly younger sister. "Oh he'll dance. He'll dance with you in this dress. I guarantee. He won't take his eyes off you. He will follow you anywhere, do anything you ask.

"What will Phuong think! He'll think..."

"Phuong saw the dress. He smiled, he approves. He knows it will get the job done! He's no fool, not really."

That shocked me about as much as the dress did. Was everybody conspiring to get Greg to fuck me? Jesus.

Khang went into big-sister-advice mode. "See the silk ribbon? For getting out. Just pull the bow, pull the ribbon out, it falls off, you step out.

See the buttons? They are for ripping! Held by a single thread. Greg grabs here, pulls!

Never bend over! Sit upright, not leaning back! Dance like this!"

Khang demonstrated the upright rigid posture, hands down by her waist, stepping to an imaginary beat. Raised one hand over her head, danced turning, showing off, looking darling. I'd seen women in the clubs do that! Now I knew why.

Ok I'll try. Standing straight, arms loose but not floppy, step-step-step-wiggle. Raise my arm, turning, slightly rotating my hips, my shoulders, feeling the dress move.

Like a dream! Nothing scratchy, everything like a second skin, part of me.

Khang had stopped, frozen, forgetting to dance, hand over her head, just watching me. Her mouth open.

"Is it ok? Is something falling off? Am I doing it right?"

She remembered to breath. "It's ok." Breathing hard. "I am so good. This is the best fuck-me dress I ever made."

I flushed bright red, you could see it all the way down my shoulders and chest.

It was too much. I stepped to her, hugged her, held her. She hugged me back.

A button went Pop! bounced on the floor, rolled under the cutting table.

I giggled, let go of her. She looked alarmed, then smiled, laughed with me.

I love my sister.