He was waiting for her when she stepped out of the bathroom, all showered and perfumed, and he handed her the white box with the pink ribbon and said, “Open it.” “Shouldn’t I put some clothes on first?” she said, and he said, “No, open it now.”

On the phone he’d told her they were going to his club. She was hoping for a ring, but maybe he’d give it to her there. They’d been to the club for New Year’s Eve, and it was nice, posh and private, with good food and an intimate dance floor, and she loved to dance.

When she pulled the ribbon and opened the box, there it was, a red gown so beautiful, so sheer, and she held it up to the light, and he told her to put it on, and she said, “Okay, I’ll just put on my...” and he said, “No, put it on now. I want you to wear it with nothing underneath.” She blushed almost as red as the dress because it was just impossible—even in the soft candlelight of the club everyone would see everything, her nipples, her belly button, her below. In the mirror on her dresser, even through two thicknesses, it was so sheer she could she the shadow of her ... not just the shadow but the soft hairs. Maybe he’d let her shave. Was there time? But without the hairs, they’d see her ... What a conundrum!

And then he was behind her, stroking her shoulders, kissing below her ear, caressing her breasts, and she could feel his firmness. She said, “Maybe we should just stay home,” and he said, “No,” and his fingers circled her nipples, and she said, “Won’t you be embarrassed for me?” and he pinched both nipples, first together and then one after the other, and then both together again, and he said, “No, I’m proud of you. Now get dressed,” and he stood there, watching.

It felt so good slipping over her skin, her breasts, her nipples, lower, and she shook herself and it slid down all the way, but enough inches above the knee that she was sure when she sat there wouldn’t be anything keeping anyone from...

But no sooner had it settled all the way down than he lifted it up and his finger went in, and he told her to bend forward, and when she had her hands on the dresser, he went in, deeply, all the way in one smooth thrust, and he fucked her slowly, carefully, keeping her on the edge for the longest time before he allowed her to come, and when she started coming, she felt him coming, too, powerfully, silently.

She thought they would just go to bed then, but he said, “Put on your shoes.” “Shouldn’t I take a quick shower first?” she said, and he said, “No,” and he swatted her on the butt, a good hard swat, and then he helped her balance while she put on her shoes.

At least she had a coat—it was February after all—and as they were walking out, she said, “I might leak,” and he said, “That’s why we’re taking a cab,” and when they were in the cab, he said, “Are you leaking?” and she said, “I think so,” and he said, “Good,” and he smiled at her in a way that made her blush.

At the club she thought maybe she’d just keep the coat on, though how could she dance wearing the coat? But he took it off her shoulders right away and handed it to the check girl, and she was sure everyone was looking at her.