He was a regular client; not especially frequent, but certainly regular. He would call every two months or so, sometimes every two weeks; the longest interval had been three months. He had been calling for nearly three years now.
She wondered what his story was. He didn't talk much, and he didn't want to have sex with her. It could have been disquieting and, in the beginning, it had been. But now she knew what to expect. Which didn't stop her from being extremely curious.
At the appointed time, she knocked on the door of the usual hotel room. He opened it wide, standing aside to let her enter. She walked in and stood before the bed, unbuttoning her coat, taking it off and laying it on the back of a chair. He was sitting on the bed now facing her.
Standing there in only a deep blue, lacy thong with matching garter belt and stockings, and high-heeled shoes, she wondered again to herself what his story was. He was quite a good-looking man, in his forties probably, but looked kind of sad, empty almost. He turned to where it lay beside him on the bed, and picked it up with two hands, cradling it almost reverently. He extended his arms to offer it to her, and she took it by the shoulders, dropping it towards the floor and stepping into it, slowly and steadily. She inched it up her legs, pulling it little by little over her hips, sliding her hands through the armholes, and using her opposite hands to move it slowly up her arms and onto her shoulders.
It was a beautiful dress, strangely cut, but in a beautiful midnight blue shade of satin. Its plunging neckline reached almost to her waist, and the draping behind dropped all the way to the small of her back. A fine silver chain across her collarbone stopped it from slipping off her shoulders, and she fastened it now.
She turned slowly all the way round so he could appreciate it from every angle. As she faced him again, she saw that familiar look in his eyes, the emptiness gone, almost sparkling. Happiness? Lust? Something of both. He was unfastening his pants now, freeing his erect cock from its confinement, and beginning to stroke himself. She knew it wasn't her that inspired these feelings but the dress.
She started to hum a sultry tune in her head and swayed in time with it, making the folds of the material sway also, swishing as they brushed against each other. The light from the lamps made the fabric shimmer as she turned and moved. Her curiosity was overwhelming her, but she hid her skepticism well. What was with this man and this dress? Was it just a dress or did it have a history? The effect on him was impressive in any case. His eyes were half-closed now but he was still watching her, watching the dress, and he stroked more quickly, his hand firm on his long, thick shaft, rising and falling to some other tune than the one she was humming. She mused that it was a waste of all the money he was paying her, but who was she to argue?
She turned again, a little twirl now, making the dress circle outwards, and then swayed again from side to side. He was close now, and was forcing his eyes wide to look at the movement of the gleaming satin as his hand moved rapidly up and down. She didn't turn again because she knew what he wanted. He had been very clear with his instructions all that time ago: she would not talk, would not question; he would not touch. His hand was a blur now, and suddenly he grunted and his cum arched across the small space that separated them, landing at the point of the V of the neckline, and again full on the front of the dress, and again, and again.
She stood there for a short while as he surveyed the effect of his handiwork. When he was ready, he smiled and nodded at her. She walked sedately to the bathroom to remove the dress. As she took it off, she realized there was a drop of cum at the top of her abdomen. She scooped it up with her finger and, hesitating only a second or two, placed her finger in her mouth. What a waste.
She laid the dress on the toilet seat and returned to the room to put her coat back on. As she finished fastening it, she picked up the bills he had left for her on the table, nodded to him and left.
Inspired by Depeche Mode's Blue Dress, from the Violator album