This is my first story submission. I'd be grateful for any and all feedback!
The bell above the entrance gave a soft chime, and Asha looked up from her perfectly folded display of shirts. She hadn't seen another human in over two hours, so the sound jolted her out of a quiet daydream.
Then her eyes met his.
Tyler.
Professor Tyler, technically, but he wasn't her professor anymore. Her breath caught in her throat just a little before she smoothed it out with practiced calm. He looked exactly as she remembered--slightly disheveled in a curated kind of way, tall with kind eyes and a voice that always made her lean in a little. The beard was a little fuller now, his eyes tired, but still sharp.
He smiled. "Hey. Asha?"
She straightened up and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "Hi, Professor."
"Tyler," he corrected gently.
God
, she thought.
Even his voice still does things to me.
He looked around. "I, uh... I need a pair of pants. Slim fit, something dark. Also looking for a dress."
"For you or someone else?" she asked with a soft, teasing lilt in her voice.
Tyler gave a short laugh, almost embarrassed. "For my ex. I'm seeing her tonight."
Ex.
Asha's eyebrows lifted just a little before she masked it with a smile. "Ah. Dangerous territory."
He nodded with a half-smile. "Yeah. Trying to be... diplomatic."
She motioned with her hand, inviting him deeper into the store. "Let's start with pants. Dress we can circle back to."
As they walked side by side into the more private rear section, Asha glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Same quiet, thoughtful energy. Same deep voice she used to think about while trying to fall asleep after late study nights. She felt a flicker of heat in her chest and quickly shifted the focus.
"What kind of dress are you thinking for her?" she asked casually.
"I don't know. Something elegant. Not too flashy. Just something nice that... might remind her."
Asha's voice came out lighter than she expected. "What's her skin tone?"
Tyler paused for a second. "Um... kind of wheatish? Like yours."
That stopped her for a beat. Her heart skipped once.
"Oh," she said, glancing at him again. "And... her build?"
He hesitated again. Then: "Honestly? She looks a lot like you."
Asha felt that one like a quiet bolt of lightning. Her body buzzed.
He dated someone like me. Who touched him. Kissed him. Rode him. Let him take her apart. And now he's here. With me.
The warmth started between her legs before she even realized it. She adjusted her stance slightly and bit the inside of her cheek to keep her thoughts at bay.
She led him to the men's section and began browsing, fingers skimming the fabrics until she found a pair that would hug in all the right places.
"These," she said, holding out a slim-cut charcoal pair with a high thread count and subtle stretch. "Try them. They're made for someone with your... frame."
She caught herself looking at his waist. Broad shoulders, tapered core. She'd imagined what was under his lectures more than once.
Tyler nodded and took the pants with a grateful smile, disappearing into the fitting room. The store returned to its hush. Asha leaned against the edge of a display and let herself feel the quiet throb of desire.
If she looked like me, did he touch her like I wish he'd touch me? Did he kiss her neck slow before pushing her up against a wall? Did he whisper to her between thrusts?
She pressed her thighs together, hard.
Then she heard him call, voice tight: "Asha?"
She straightened. "Yeah?"
"I have a problem."
She blinked, then walked over to the fitting room. The door was ajar, and he stood there, the pants halfway fastened but clearly caught at the zipper. Her eyes lingered.
"Oh." She tried to sound neutral. "Let me..."
She knelt in front of him, close enough to smell him--clean and masculine with a faint trace of cologne. Her fingers moved to the zipper, doing her best to avoid the bulge pressing behind the fabric. She felt heat flare in her cheeks.
"Sorry," he murmured.
"It's fine," she said softly, working the zipper, her fingertips lightly grazing his boxers. She felt the tension in his body, the restrained breath, the unmistakable pressure beneath.
The zipper refused to budge. Asha let her hands fall away and looked up at him from where she knelt.
"Maybe it'll loosen on its own," she said, her voice lower than before. "Why don't we shop for the dress while we wait?"
She stood slowly, lightly brushing her arm against him as she rose.
She didn't meet his eyes. She couldn't. Her face was burning, and her whole body was alert, buzzing, wet.
She turned and walked ahead of him, knowing he was watching her hips move, and knowing he was thinking about everything she'd just touched.
She stopped near the women's formal section, glancing back with a polite smile to reset the moment. Her voice shifted, light and professional again. "So, dress time. You want something elegant. Classy, but... maybe a little memorable?"
Tyler nodded, visibly trying to shake the static from the last few minutes. "Exactly."
She scanned the racks with purpose, then paused when her fingers found the fabric--silky, black, strapless. A body-hugging, whisper-thin number that shimmered faintly under the lights. She slipped it off the hanger and held it up between them.
"This might be more daring than you were imagining," she said carefully. "But it's beautiful."
"Looks amazing." His eyes traveled the length of it, then flicked toward her. "Just thinking how it would look on her."
The words hovered in the space between them, and for a second Asha just stood there, heart thudding.
On her.
Like me.
Her fingers gripped the hanger tightly. She bit the inside of her cheek. A voice inside her whispered--dangerous, curious.
What if I offered?
She took a soft breath, keeping her voice gentle, almost tentative. "Would it help... if I tried it on?"
Tyler blinked. "You'd do that?"
Asha glanced away shyly, her voice quieter now. "I mean, if it'd help."
He was silent. She didn't dare look at his face.
Then: "Oh, that's so generous of you. Well... okay? But only if you're comfortable."
She nodded quickly, her hands already trembling as she turned and walked toward the fitting room with the dress draped over her arm. Her pulse was pounding as she shut the door behind her, leaning against it for a second to exhale.
What the hell am I doing?
She unzipped the dress and stepped out of her modest skirt, her blouse, folding them neatly. The dress was light as water, the fabric smooth beneath her fingers. She stepped into it, but as she began to pull it up, she paused. Her bra straps--thin and white--stood out like neon against the cut of the neckline.
She twisted, trying to adjust. No matter what she did, the straps ruined the effect. The dress demanded more.
I can't wear this with a bra. Not this one.
She stared at herself in the mirror.
But if I take it off...
Her eyes flicked downward. Her nipples were already firm, the idea of what she was doing firing heat straight through her chest.
Would it be too much? Would he notice? Would I want him to?
She swallowed hard.
Then she reached behind her, slowly unhooked her bra, and slid the straps down her arms. She let it fall silently into her pile of clothes, leaving her breasts bare beneath the silky black fabric.
When she pulled the dress up again, it hugged her hips and waist like a second skin, clinging to every curve. The top molded to her chest, pressing just tight enough to lift, to shape.
Her nipples were visible--barely--but they were there. Her stomach fluttered.
She turned, twisted, looked from every angle. The back was low, the sides kissed her ribs. Her skin glowed against the dark fabric.
This is so... fucking... revealing.
She hesitated at the curtain.
He's going to see everything. But I offered. I said I would.
And part of her wanted him to.
Let him see what he's not supposed to.
She closed her eyes for a moment, found her center, then slowly pulled the curtain back and stepped into the open.
The room was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning.
Tyler turned. His eyes widened, and he seemed to forget how to speak for a second.
Asha stood there, arms gently at her sides, looking at him with an uncertain expression. "Well?"
His eyes roamed over her, slow and reverent. From her bare shoulders to her waist, lingering on the soft swell of her breasts beneath the fabric.
"It... looks incredible," he said finally, voice thick.
Asha didn't move. Her heart beat against her ribs. Every inch of her skin felt electric.
I'm doing this. Letting him look. Letting him wonder.
Asha smiled, her cheeks warm. "You think so?" she asked, playing up a little bashfulness. Her hands smoothed over the dress as if adjusting it, though nothing needed adjusting. It was perfect--and she knew it.
Tyler nodded. "I mean... I don't know. Is it maybe... too revealing?"
Asha tilted her head thoughtfully, pretending to consider it with strict professionalism, though her eyes sparkled.
"Hmm," she said. "Let's see."
She turned slightly, presenting herself in profile. The fabric caught the light, drawing attention to the delicate line of her waist, the gentle swell of her hips. She leaned forward just a bit, towards him, inspecting her reflection in the mirror on the far wall. Her posture subtly shifted--just enough that the neckline dipped with her.
"From your angle," she said, voice lightly teasing but still calm, "what do you see?"
Tyler opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
She let the silence linger, then smiled faintly. "It's okay. I'll narrate."
