The first time I saw her, she was balancing a tray of dumplings with delicate grace, her petite Asian figure wrapped in a modest summer dress that did nothing to hide the way her body moved beneath it. She was a quiet beauty--soft-spoken, obedient, and completely unaware of how much attention she attracted.
Her short husband, however, was a different story. He was just another nerdy overworked China-man too busy stirring woks and counting cash to realize the kind of woman he had at home.
I had been ordering from their Chinese restaurant for weeks, each time watching her through the pickup window, studying the way she smiled at customers, always polite, always demure. She had that natural submissiveness, a kind of quiet eagerness to please that made men wonder just how far she would go if pushed the right way.
And I was more than willing to push.
Tonight, I had a plan. A little invitation, a little misdirection--enough to get her exactly where I wanted.
I opened the food delivery app and sent a message directly to the owner.
Andrew: Hey man, I was thinking... you and your wife work too much. You ever take her out to have some fun?
A few minutes passed before he responded.
Husband: she doesn't like bars and loud places. She's a quiet one, you know?
That was exactly what I was counting on.
Andrew: Oh, this isn't just any club. It's exclusive. Private. The kind of place where quiet people learn to let go. I know the owner. VIP treatment.
I let that sit for a moment. Give him just enough curiosity to bite.
Husband: Sounds interesting. What kind of club?
I smirked.
Andrew: A place for couples to explore. No pressure. Just fun. I'll take care of everything. You and your wife deserve a break. Let me send a car for you tonight.
I could already see the gears turning in his mind. He'd hesitate--worried, intrigued, not quite sure if he should say yes. But eventually, he would. And by the time he realized he wasn't going where he expected, it would be far too late.
The husband took the bait. He was eager--too eager, in fact. The moment he agreed, I knew he hadn't even consulted his wife. He wanted to impress me, to show he was open-minded. That was all I needed.
Now, I just had to get her alone.
I waited until later that evening before making my next move. A simple message, sent to the restaurant's number. I already knew she was the one managing their orders.
Andrew: Hey, it's Andrew. Your husband told me you're both coming tonight. Change of plans--I've arranged something special just for you.
There was a long pause before a reply finally appeared.
Wife: Oh... Hello. My husband didn't mention anything?
I smirked. Of course, he didn't.
Andrew: He's meeting me there a little later. I'll send a separate car for you. It's better this way--you'll have time to settle in, get comfortable. The wardrobe team at the club already has something hot picked out for you. Just say your name when you arrive, and they'll take care of everything.
The typing bubble appeared, stopped, then reappeared again. She was hesitating.
Wife: I... don't know. What kind of place is this?
Andrew: It's private. Exclusive. A place where women like you learn to let go, just a little. Nothing happens unless you want it to. But trust me, you'll enjoy it.
I let that sit. I knew exactly what was happening on her end--her heart beating a little faster, her fingers hovering over the screen, her thoughts spinning in a dozen different directions.
And then, the message I was waiting for.
Wife: Okay.
Li Na stepped out of the taxi, her heart pounding in her chest. The address Andrew had given her led to a discreet entrance--no signs, no flashing lights, just a heavy black door with a small brass plaque. A man in a tailored suit greeted her with a polite nod, as if he had been expecting her.
"Your name?" he asked smoothly.
She swallowed, suddenly unsure. "L-Li Na."
The man gestured toward a dimly lit hallway. "Right this way. The wardrobe is waiting for you."
Her footsteps were nearly silent as she walked, the hush of the place wrapping around her like a secret. When she stepped inside the changing room, she was met with a series of luxurious black velvet curtains, soft lighting, and a row of outfits neatly arranged on a satin bench.
A woman approached, wearing a masquerade mask covering her face and dressed in a sleek black dress that clung to her body like liquid silk. "This is for you," she said, holding out a delicate Chinese cheongsam dress ensemble of red straps and sheer fabric. "It will fit perfectly."
Li Na hesitated. The outfit was nothing like what she would ever pick for herself--tiny, revealing, designed to highlight every delicate curve of her body. But something about the moment made it impossible to refuse. Slowly, she reached for it.
The woman without hesitation started to undress her and she must have done it hundreds of times because within seconds before she had time to react she was completely nude and and couldn't even see where her old clothes jacket and shoes had ended up. The woman admired her Asian body, long black hair and shy face with a naughty smile. "We don't get that many Asian girls here, you surely will be in the center of attention."
The woman was on her knees now between her legs and taking off her panties. She didn't see where she got the small electric razor from but after some swift movements her bush was completely bald for the first time in her life. She never had sex with her husband and we're just busy enough to have time to masturbate every morning alone. The woman gave her busy a quick kiss and said that it was to get dressed handing her the slutty traditional Chinese dress.
When Li Na slipped it on, she barely recognized herself. The harness-like straps wrapped around her petite frame, hugging her soft skin, emphasizing the gentle curve of her round behind and the elegant line of her small tits and collarbone. The sheer panels revealed just enough to make her feel daring but still covered enough to feel... safe.
She turned toward the mirror, her breath catching in her throat.
This wasn't the quiet, dutiful woman who took orders at the restaurant. This wasn't the wife who spent her nights cleaning tables and counting receipts.
This was someone else entirely. An Oriental slut.
She tilted her head slightly, smoothing her hands over her exposed shoulders, down her sides. The lighting caught the soft golden tones of her skin, the way the fabric hugged her form, accentuating her small but perky chest, the delicate dip of her stomach, the slender curve of her thighs.
For the first time in a long time, she didn't feel invisible.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
