Edging and Elegance
Elle wears a special dress out to a party. . .without her husband.
Elle stood before the mirror, fingertips trailing over the smooth emerald silk of her gown. It clung to her hips with tailored precision, the neckline plunging lower than anything she’d ever worn. It was elegant—undeniably beautiful—but it felt like a costume. Not quite her.
And yet, she had said yes.
Her husband had requested it. The dress. The daring. The night. His voice had been soft when he asked, a quiet mix of curiosity and desire. “Just for tonight,” he’d said. “I want to see you through someone else’s eyes.”
The words had lingered, strange and intriguing. And strangely, she had agreed.
The party glittered from the moment she arrived on her own—low music, candlelight flickering across polished glass and knowing smiles. Tonight, she was on her own. The party had its own set of rules unique to a certain subculture of affluence and sexual self exploration. Everyone was potentially available for more than just a conversation.
She headed straight to the bar. A man silver streak at his temples and the kind of practiced charm that made compliments feel like currency smiled in her direction. He admired her dress—of course—and she returned his gaze with a smile that felt borrowed. Polite. Curious. Elle tried to let herself enjoy the attention like her husband had wanted.
She took a sip of wine and looked out to the dance floor. There a younger man with the confidence who always seemed to get his way. Maybe, she thought as she made her way closer. At first she danced alone, running her hands into her hair so anyone looking her way could see the toned muscles of her arms. She smiled at the younger man. Soon she felt his hand fitting into the small of her back, as though testing the waters. Their steps moved in time with the music, their conversation light, playful. Nothing intimate. But it was something.
"Do you come to parties like this often?" he asked, his tone suggestive.
"Not like this," she said, and watched the understanding flicker in his smile.
She imagined husband’s eyes on her—somewhere in the crowd, watching. Not possessively. Not with jealousy. But with a quiet fascination, as though he were witnessing a transformation he’d imagined but never seen.
The night unfolded. Another glass of wine. Another slow dance. A touch on her bare shoulder that lingered. Elle flirted—not just with words, but with timing, with silence, with the arch of an eyebrow and the curve of her lips. When she caught a man taking a generous look at her chest she would catch his eye and bite her lip with a permissive look. She wasn’t simply part of the scene; she was shaping it. And with each passing moment, she began to enjoy the power in it.
Then she saw him.
He stood near the open balcony doors, apart from the crowd. Not the most striking man in the room, but there was something about his stillness, his gaze that didn’t chase attention, that drew her in. He had the quiet confidence of someone who didn’t need to speak loudly to be heard.
She found herself beside him, as if pulled there by a current.
“Enjoying yourself?” she asked, in a conspiratorial voice.
“I think so,” he said, not quite smiling.
He glanced at her, taking in the dress, the neckline, the calm assuredness in her posture. “You look like you belong here.”
“Do I?” she asked.
He looked at her then, really looked, with a gaze that held no expectation—only observation. “You belong wherever you decide to be.”
No line. Just truth. And danger.
They tried small talk—about a books she’s just read, of all things, but the real conversation was about the spaces between words, about the kinds of moments that don’t have names. The air between them vibrated with possibility.
He nodded at her ring “Your husband is somewhere here?” he probed.
“He’s at home, actually, he told me he wanted me to enjoy myself on my own tonight.”
When he offered to walk her outside, she paused. Not from fear, but from clarity. She could go. She could take this night to its edge, wherever that led. Her husband had wanted her to explore this—to become something bold and unbound. And she had.
“I have a better idea” she said digging deep for the courage she was building up all night. The man raised an eyebrow.
Elle tried to imagine her husband watching from across the room as she drew in close to the man and whispered in his ear “How about we see if we can find a bedroom?”
It wasn’t hard to break away from the crowd and slip upstairs to what turned out to be a guest room. The man ran his hands over her dress as she pressed her lips against his. There was an immediate, almost animal energy as he grasped his hands over the contours of her body.
Elle pulled the fabric from her shoulders and let the top of the dress collapse around her waist. Elle had beautiful breasts—not too big. Just natural and pert. Elle was just a touch shorter than the man she’d picked out from the party.
“Do me one little favor and I’ll suck your cock,” she said.
The man would say yes to anything right now. And he did.
“Take a picture of me doing it.”
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