Claudia lay in bed, the soft glow of her phone illuminating her face as she absently scrolled through Instagram. The sheets were cool against her skin, and Peter's gentle breathing filled the quiet space beside her. It had been a few days since their visit to the boutique, but the experience lingered—pulling at her in subtle, tantalizing ways. The feel of the satin dress against her body, the older man's voice shaping her movements, the way Peter had watched, silent and aroused. It all hummed beneath the surface, impossible to forget.

On a whim, she typed the boutique’s name into the search bar. The profile appeared instantly, sleek and understated, just like the store itself. Rows of suggestive yet refined images filled the grid. Claudia’s eyes lingered on one photo—a black satin slip draped elegantly over a mannequin, the plunging neckline leaving little to the imagination. Another photo featured the faint outline of a model’s hardened nipples beneath a thin silk blouse. The caption read: "Confidence isn’t worn. It’s revealed."

Claudia felt a slow, creeping warmth spread through her. It wasn’t just the image—it was the precision of the boutique’s aesthetic, the careful balance of elegance and seduction. It reminded her of the way Richard had spoken to her that day, how his voice had settled into her thoughts, deliberate and controlled. Confidence isn’t worn. It’s revealed. The words felt personal, like a message meant for her.

She shifted slightly, acutely aware of Peter beside her, his steady breathing filling the room. A thrill sparked in her chest as she tapped the screen, zooming in just enough to see the fabric’s sheer delicacy. Her pulse ticked faster.

“Peter,” she whispered, nudging him gently with her elbow. He stirred, propping himself up on one arm to glance at the screen. His hair was tousled, and the sleepy haze in his eyes made him look softer than usual.

“That’s the place,” she said, smirking as she showed him the boutique’s profile. “Looks even more exclusive online.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he nodded, a flicker of interest passing over his face. “It fits their vibe,” he murmured, his hand trailing lazily along her hip beneath the covers. His touch felt heavier than usual, and Claudia leaned into it, enjoying the way his fingers pressed against her skin.

Claudia hesitated for a moment, then tapped the follow button. There was something thrilling in the act—like crossing an invisible boundary. “You never know, they might post something interesting,” she teased, giving him a sly glance.

Peter raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. If anything, he seemed more aroused by her curiosity than concerned. The boutique had stirred something in both of them, and neither of them wanted to ignore it. The unspoken desire that had simmered between them since that day in the boutique felt heavier now, stretching into the quiet moments between kisses, lingering when they undressed at night.

The next morning, Claudia noticed a notification lingering in her inbox. A new message request.

Her pulse quickened as she opened it.

Boutique V: “You looked stunning in that dress. We are currently planning our next private event for selected clients. You are both invited to the next event. Let us know if you’re interested.”

Claudia’s thumb hovered over the screen. Her heart raced, a flush creeping across her skin. She reread the message, feeling the weight of each carefully chosen word. A private event. What exactly did that mean? Was this just a marketing tactic, or had Richard sent it personally?

She swallowed, shifting on the couch. The logical part of her brain told her to show Peter right away, but another part—one she wasn’t sure she wanted to name—kept her staring at the screen. Why was she hesitating?

Because she knew what this was. It wasn’t just an invitation. It was a test.

Her stomach fluttered as she imagined Richard typing the message. Had he expected her to accept right away? Or was he waiting to see if she’d hesitate? The thought made her cheeks burn, but she couldn’t deny the excitement curling in her belly.

With a deep breath, she locked her phone and set it aside. I’ll show Peter later, she told herself, but even as she made the decision, she knew it wasn’t the full truth. She wanted a moment to sit with the feeling—to savor it before confronting what it meant.

For the rest of the day, Claudia found herself distracted. The message circled in her mind, playing over and over as she imagined what these events might entail. She thought of the way the boutique owner had looked at her—confident, assessing, as though he knew exactly how far she would go before even she did. That thought alone left her restless.

That evening, as they curled up on the couch, she placed her phone in Peter’s lap without a word. He glanced down, reading the message in silence. His jaw tightened slightly, and though he said nothing, the faint rise and fall of his chest betrayed his reaction. His fingers curled around the phone, but he didn’t move to type anything.

Claudia leaned closer, brushing her lips softly against his ear. “What do you think?” she whispered, feeling his body stiffen beneath her touch. Her fingers trailed lightly over his thigh, teasing the edge of his shorts.

Peter exhaled slowly, his hand resting firmly on her leg now, inching higher with each passing second. “I think we should tell them that we are interested.”

Claudia smiled, the flicker of anticipation dancing behind her eyes as she typed out a simple reply: “We’re interested. Let us know the details.”

Her phone buzzed moments later.

Boutique V: “Details will follow soon. Be patient.”

Claudia felt a shiver run down her spine. She rested her head against Peter’s shoulder, her body curling closer to his. His hand traced lazy circles over her back, but they both knew there was no ignoring the tension that hung in the room now.

Peter’s hand slowly slipped under the hem of her shirt, his touch deliberate, but there was an unspoken pause between them.

“What kind of events do you think they host?” Peter asked, his voice low, almost cautious.

Claudia smiled, kissing the edge of his jaw. “Let’s wait for more information. We’ll see.”

His eyes darkened slightly at her words, and she relished the way his body responded to the subtle edge in her voice.

The days following the messages stretched endlessly. Claudia found herself reaching for her phone almost unconsciously, the habit forming as if the boutique’s message with more information might arrive at any moment. Each time the screen lit up, her heart gave a little jump—hope flaring briefly—only for it to fade when it was just a friend’s text or a promotional email. The anticipation gnawed at her, a tantalizing itch she couldn’t quite scratch. It wasn’t just the waiting—it was the lingering sensation of being watched, of knowing someone had noticed her.

Peter noticed the shift in her, even if Claudia tried to hide it. It was in the way she absently touched her collarbone during dinner, how she lingered in front of the mirror a little longer than usual after dressing. He caught her gazing at her reflection, her hands smoothing over her hips as if assessing herself through someone else’s eyes. When he kissed the back of her neck, her breath would hitch, but there was always something just beneath the surface—her thoughts drifting elsewhere.

“Nothing yet?” Peter asked casually one evening as they sat on the patio, the warm summer air wrapping around them. The ice in his glass clinked softly as he swirled his drink, eyes watching her over the rim.

Claudia exhaled, swirling the deep red wine in her glass. “No. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. They could send these out to anyone.”

Peter leaned closer, his voice dropping just enough to make her squirm. “Or maybe they know exactly what they’re doing.”

Her eyes flicked to his, a flush creeping up her neck. She hated how easily his teasing got to her. But there was something else—the way Peter’s gaze lingered on her lips, his hand casually resting on her thigh beneath the table. They both felt the weight of the unspoken invitation, dangling like a lure just out of reach. Peter’s fingers brushed light patterns on her skin, and Claudia bit her lip, unsure whether she wanted to pull him closer or let the tension build a little longer.

A few days after accepting the invitation, Claudia noticed the boutique owner's personal account, Richard quietly beginning to interact with her profile. His account appeared in her notifications, following her one evening. It started subtly—an old photo of her in a backless dress from a vacation two summers ago received a like. Then another. Peter noticed too, his eyes narrowing as she scrolled through the notifications one evening.

“He’s going through your old photos now?” Peter asked, unable to keep the edge from his voice.

Claudia tilted the phone slightly, letting him see the screen. “Just these ones. They’re not that revealing.” Her tone was light, but Peter could tell she was intrigued. There was something thrilling about Richard’s silent acknowledgment.

Peter wasn’t sure if it bothered him or aroused him. Richard’s attention didn’t stop at liking old photos—he began leaving comments too and sending her private messages. "You wear that dress well. I’d lower the strap just a little more next time." Or, "The light catches your skin perfectly here. Have you considered something a touch more sheer?" Each remark was subtle, never vulgar, but undeniably suggestive.

Claudia absorbed every word, sometimes re-shooting an old photo just to try out his suggestions. Peter watched her as she adjusted the angle of her phone, slipping the strap of her bikini lower or arching her back just enough to catch the glow of the afternoon sun. Her posts grew more daring—still artful, still composed—but undeniably crafted with Richard’s gaze in mind. A poolside shot with droplets glistening on her stomach. A dress she wore out to dinner, the slit revealing the curve of her thigh. The captions were lighthearted but calculated. She wasn’t posting for everyone—she was posting for him.

One evening, a notification caught her eye.

The screen filled with slow, sweeping shots of the boutique owner’s private pool, bathed in golden sunset light. Laughter echoed faintly in the background as women lounged in delicate, swimsuits, their bodies partially submerged. A man’s hand trailed lightly down a woman’s back as she leaned against the pool’s edge, tilting her head back to expose her neck. The video shifted—candles flickering by the water’s edge, glimpses of bodies pressing close, champagne glasses reflecting soft, ambient lights. It was seductive but tasteful, more like a film trailer than an invitation.

Claudia’s lips parted slightly, and she glanced at Peter. He could see the way her pupils darkened, the way her breath caught at the intimate imagery. The video ended with a sleek black screen, and after a beat, elegant white text faded in: "Saturday. 4 PM. RSVP Required. Location and further details provided upon registration." A link appeared below the text, subtle yet unmistakable, inviting them to click and take the next step.

Claudia's eyes lingered on the screen as she traced the edge of the phone with her fingertip. "It feels so... official," she murmured, her voice carrying a mix of awe and trepidation.

Peter's gaze was locked on the link. "Are you thinking about registering?"

She glanced at him sideways, her lips curving into a slow smile. "I don't think curiosity is going to let me ignore this."

Claudia set the phone down, her fingertips resting on the edge of the screen. "I didn’t expect… that." Her voice was hushed, but the excitement shimmered beneath the surface. Peter felt the same tightness in his chest—the same trepidation.

But when Claudia leaned back, stretching her legs across his lap, Peter knew she wasn’t going to ignore the message. And neither was he.

In the days leading up to the party, Richard's presence on Claudia's social media grew more frequent, his comments slipping in beneath her photos with an almost casual regularity. Yet, each word he left behind felt deliberate, measured in its ability to stoke the embers of Claudia’s curiosity.

One night, long after Peter had fallen asleep beside her, Claudia lay in bed, the dim glow of her phone screen illuminating her flushed skin. She wasn’t tired—not really.

A new message sat in her inbox.

From Richard.

Her heart gave a sharp, anticipatory thud as she opened it. It was a reaction to one of her older pictures from a holiday at the beach, showing her from behind in her bikini.

Richard: “That swimsuit looks incredible on you. I can’t help but wonder how breathtaking you’d look with an even more daring one. Brazilian cut panties would highlight your butt.”

Claudia inhaled slowly, heat creeping down her spine.

Daring.

Brazilian cut.

She bit her lip, shifting under the sheets as she reread the message, her mind instantly supplying the image—of herself in something smaller, something meant to tease.

And Richard picturing it.

Her fingers twitched on the screen. Had he imagined her in one of those high-cut bikinis, the kind that barely covered anything, the kind Peter asked her so often to buy? Had he studied the curve of her ass in her latest photo and thought, She should show more?

The thought sent a shiver through her.

Her free hand drifted down her stomach, her breathing shallowing.

Had he taken his time scrolling, pausing at the ones where her dress clung a little tighter, where her legs were bare, where the sunlight caught her body just right?

She pictured him now—sitting back in his home, phone in hand, scrolling. Had he zoomed in? Had he hesitated before messaging her, or had the temptation been immediate?

Her thighs squeezed together at the thought.

What would he say if he saw her like this—sprawled on the sheets, one hand slipping between her legs, her skin warm from the thrill of being seen, imagined?

She let her fingers slide lower, teasing herself as she imagined his voice.

"You’d look stunning in something more revealing, Claudia. Why hide?"

Her breath hitched.

She imagined him behind her, his large hands smoothing over her hips, adjusting the waistband of her bikini. "This cut would suit you better," he’d murmur, his voice thick with approval.

Her fingers worked faster, her body thrumming with pleasure.

Had he touched himself when he looked at her pictures? Had he stroked himself to the thought of her in something skimpier, knowing she was Peter’s but still imagining—just for a moment—that she wasn’t?

The thought sent her over the edge.

A quiet, desperate whimper escaped her lips as pleasure crashed through her, her body tensing, toes curling, the sheets damp beneath her. She bit down on her lower lip, stifling the moan threatening to spill out.

The aftershocks left her trembling, her pulse hammering.

For a long moment, she lay there, breathless, her fingers still resting against her slick skin.

Then, slowly, she unlocked her phone again.

She reread Richard’s message, her lips parting slightly, considering.

She wouldn’t reply yet. Not tonight.

The next morning, Claudia sat at the kitchen table, absently stirring her coffee, her phone resting beside her like a silent temptation.

She had barely slept. Richard’s message lingered in her mind, his words curling around her thoughts like smoke.

"That swimsuit looks incredible on you. I can’t help but wonder how breathtaking you’d look with an even more daring one. Brazilian cut panties would highlight your butt."

She had read it over and over, letting the words seep into her skin. But the real question gnawed at her—should she show Peter?

Normally, she wouldn’t hesitate. They had always been open about their fantasies, always shared the teasing messages and provocative thoughts. But this felt different.

She glanced at Peter, who sat across from her, scrolling through his phone. He looked relaxed.

Would he be jealous? Angry?

Or worse—what if he told her to stop?

Her fingers hovered over her phone.

She could keep this to herself, let it be a secret thrill that only she knew. The idea sent a ripple of excitement through her. But at the same time…

She wanted to see his reaction.

Slowly, she picked up her phone again and unlocked it.

“Peter.” Her voice was soft but deliberate.

He looked up, his brow lifting slightly.

She hesitated for only a moment before tilting the phone toward him, the message glowing on the screen. “Richard sent me this last night.”

Peter’s gaze dropped to the screen.

Silence stretched between them.

Claudia watched his face carefully—how his expression hardened, his lips parting slightly as he read the words. His fingers curled subtly around his coffee mug, and she swore she saw the faintest twitch in his jaw.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, finally, he exhaled, setting his mug down with a quiet clink.

“He really said that?” His voice was low, unreadable.

She licked her lips, feeling the weight of his question. “I… I wasn’t sure how to feel at first.” She paused. “But I had to share this with you.”

Something dark flickered in Peter’s gaze.

Claudia leaned in slightly, testing the waters. “Does it bother you?”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I should be pissed off.” His fingers tapped against the table. “I should want to tell him to fuck off.”

Claudia swallowed. “But you don’t?”

Peter let out a low, humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “No. That’s the fucked-up part.” 

He met her gaze again, this time with something raw behind his eyes. “The idea of him looking at you, imagining you like that—I hate it.” His voice dropped lower. “But at the same time… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

A slow heat curled in Claudia’s belly.

Peter’s voice was rough, strained. “When I saw his likes on your photos, when I read that message—I wanted to be angry, but instead, I just kept picturing it.” 

Claudia’s breath grew shallow.

Peter let out a shuddering exhale, shaking his head. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Claudia reached out, placing her hand over his. “Maybe you don’t have to fight it.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “Maybe we just… see where this takes us.”

Peter studied her, his grip tightening around her fingers.

There was no going back now.

Later that night, Peter stood at the sink, gripping the cool porcelain, his reflection staring back at him.

The conversation from earlier still burned in his mind.

“I just kept picturing it.”

“Maybe we just… see where this takes us.

He had admitted it. Out loud.

And now, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He pulled out his phone, his thumb swiping over the screen, opening Claudia’s profile.

And there it was—the picture.

That vacation shot, her back to the camera, the bikini hugging her ass just right.

The photo Richard had seen.

The one he had imagined in something even smaller.

Peter’s breath hitched. His free hand drifted down, pressing against the growing ache beneath his sweatpants.

He should have been disgusted with himself. He should have stopped.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he imagined Richard seeing this photo for the first time—how he must have studied it, lingered on it, zoomed in.

Had he touched himself to it? Had he scrolled through even more of Claudia’s photos, picturing her in the Brazilian-cut panties he had suggested?

Peter groaned, slipping his hand beneath his waistband. His cock was already hard, throbbing at the thought.

His strokes were slow at first, teasing, his mind a mess of jealousy and unbearable arousal.

What if—what if Claudia actually bought the bikini Richard suggested?

What if she sent him a picture?

The thought sent a rush of heat through Peter’s body.

Richard would see her.

And the fucked-up part?

Peter wanted him to.

His strokes became erratic, his breath ragged. His mind spiraled deeper—Claudia slipping into the bikini, adjusting the straps, letting Richard look.

His orgasm hit fast and hard, pleasure crashing through him in waves. His muscles locked as he came, his free hand gripping the edge of the sink.

For a long moment, he just stood there, chest rising and falling, reality slowly creeping back in.

He wiped himself off, splashing cold water onto his face.

This wasn’t just about Richard anymore.

This was about what Peter was becoming.

And deep down, he knew there was no stopping it now.

That night, as Claudia curled up beside Peter on the couch, her phone buzzed with a new notification.

Not just a comment.

A voice message.

Her pulse quickened as she opened it. The moment she pressed play, Richard’s voice filled the room—low, smooth, completely self-assured.

"Claudia, that dress you wore in this picture is exquisite. I couldn’t take my eyes off the way it hugged your body—almost perfect. It will be the perfect dress for the party on Saturday."

Peter shifted beside her, his body going still.

Richard’s voice continued, steady and deliberate.

"But for Saturday, I would like you to wear other heels. Something with a thinner strap, a taller heel. The way they change your posture—how your hips move—it makes all the difference."

Claudia inhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around the phone. She knew exactly what he meant.

"And Peter," Richard added smoothly, as if he had anticipated his presence all along. "Make sure she follows through. Take a picture before you leave. Send it to me."

Silence stretched between them as the message ended, the weight of Richard’s words settling in the air like smoke.

Claudia played it again.

He simply watched her, his expression unreadable, though his fingers curled subtly into his thigh—like he was holding something back.

Claudia swallowed, locking the phone screen.

Later that night, long after Claudia had fallen asleep beside him, Peter lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

The weight of Richard’s voice message still clung to the air.

Make sure she follows through. Take a picture before you leave. Send it to me.

Peter had barely touched Claudia all evening. Not because he wasn’t aroused—he was—but because he couldn’t shake the feeling that something between them had shifted.

That Richard had shifted it.

He exhaled slowly, reaching for his phone.

He just meant to check the time.

But the moment he unlocked the screen, he saw it.

A new message.

From Richard.

His pulse kicked up.

Peter hesitated for a second too long before tapping it open.

Richard: "Tell me—did she hesitate when I told her to put on higher heels? Or is she already following my guidance without hesitation?"

Peter’s stomach twisted.

He shouldn’t respond.

But his grip on the phone tightened, and an uncomfortable heat stirred in his chest.

Richard wasn’t just testing Claudia.

He was testing him.

Peter wanted to be angry. He wanted to feel territorial, possessive.

But instead, all he could think about was the way Claudia had just tried on other heels to wear with the dress earlier that evening. Slipping into the new heels. Turning her body slightly, checking the way it moved.

Not for Peter.

For him.

Peter swallowed hard, his fingers hovering over the screen.

Peter exhaled slowly. Then, before he could think too much, he typed a response.

"She hesitated at first."

His stomach clenched. A half-truth.

Richard’s reply came almost immediately.

Richard: "Good. I like that."

Peter hated how much his cock twitched at those words.

He locked the phone and set it down.