The shop sits on the corner of two cobblestone streets in the old section of town. It is a boutique in every sense of the word. All the women’s clothing is designed and manufactured in-house.  The clothing is refined, as is the air in the shop itself. It is refined, but not stuffy or exclusive.  I am the only customer and am greeted warmly upon entering.

“Good afternoon.  Welcome.”

“Hello,” I reply.

“Have you been in before?”

“No, I haven’t.  But I’ve long admired your clothing.”

She leaves me to browse for a few minutes, and then comes out from behind the counter, and in a helpful voice asks, “Are you looking for anything in particular?”

I am browsing a rack of classic white blouses, all rendered in the finest cotton.  I’ve taken one off the rack and am holding it up.

“I like this fabric, but the cut is too straight and full.  My wife is quite narrow-waisted. Does this come in a more fitted cut?”

She reaches down the rack and pulls out a similar blouse, with darts that would accentuate my wife’s figure nicely. I admire it, and nod approvingly.

“This looks more like it.  Do they run true to size?” I am holding a small, which would normally fit my wife.

She responds in the affirmative.  “I wear a small and I’m a size six.”

I apprise her for the first time.  She stands about five feet six and appears to be built somewhat like my beloved – small breasted, petite.  She is wearing a simple one-piece blue linen dress with a hem that falls just below the knee.  I note her calves and ankles – she is fit. I take her comments as an invitation for me to examine her, and my eyes rise to take in her face. Blond shoulder-length hair and stylish red glasses frame it.

“My wife is a four.”

“The small will be perfect on her.”

Rather than let me settle too quickly on the white blouse, she helpfully points out a few other options.  My eye is drawn to a royal blue stripe that exudes a seaside vibe. I note only one on the rack and ask her if she has it in a small.

“We can make one, but right now that’s all we have.”

“I’m afraid I need it sooner than that,” I reply. “Perhaps another time. It’s beautiful.”

I reach next to it for a dark grey stripe with a hint of navy, size small. Taking it off the rack, I hold it up admiringly.

“I like this one. It seems quite versatile. I could see it tucked in with a skirt and a strand of pearls at a dinner or a party or untucked with shorts and sandals for cocktails on the patio or the boat,” I remark.

She nods her head in affirmation. “Yes, you can dress this up or dress it down.”

“I really like this one,” I reply. “I’ll take it.”

I hand her the blouse and we walk toward the counter.

“Would you like this gift wrapped?”

I smile broadly. “Oh my goodness, can I kiss you on the lips? That would be so wonderful.”

As she moves carefully and deliberately through the process of boxing and wrapping, we engage in friendly, casual banter. I learn a bit of her story, and she shares some tales of wealthy, indulgent clients from a previous life down south. We bond over our mutual loathing of those types, and as we continue to talk, I am drawn to her. There is no wedding ring on her finger, but later there is a mention of a boyfriend. I place her in her mid-forties.

I am attracted.

There is a stack of cards in a holder on the counter.

“Are you Jayme?” I ask, the name of the manager on the cards.

“Yes, I am,” she replies. “One of the things I offer, and I don’t charge for it, is a free one-hour consultation. Your wife could make an appointment any time. I’d be happy to show her things that I think would look good on her.”

“That would be nice.” I take the card and slip it into the bag alongside the beautifully wrapped box.

She is about to hand me the bag when she says, “If you have a few minutes more, I’d love to show you a little dress that I think she would really like and would look good on her, based on how you’ve described her. That is, if I’m not being too much of a pushy saleswoman.”

I’ve already been in the shop longer than I’d planned, but I’m enjoying her company. “Perhaps a few more minutes. I’m intrigued.”

She comes out from behind the counter and says, “Pardon me just a minute, it’s past closing time and I should lock up. You’ll be my last customer of the day.”

She locks the door and flips the little sign over to display “Closed” to the street.

“Oh my, I didn’t realize it was already past five,” I remark. “I’m sorry I’ve kept you late. I can come back another time to see the dress.”

“It’s no trouble at all. You’re a very pleasant customer, and I’d love to show you the dress.”

We move to the back of the shop, and she takes the dress off the rack and shows it to me. It is another versatile number in a rich shade of blue-grey, a smart casual little cocktail dress. I can immediately see it on my wife.

It appears to be tailored appropriately, but as dresses can be more complicated than simple blouses, I am compelled to ask, “Do you really think it will fall nicely on her? Have you worn it? She’s built a lot like you.”

She holds it up in front of her. It looks nice. “No, I haven’t tried this one on. I can do that now and you could see for yourself.”

“I really shouldn’t put you out. It’s already past closing.”

She smiles and responds. “It won’t take but a minute, and I’m in no hurry today. My boyfriend is working late.”

With that, she whisks herself off toward the dressing room tucked into the back corner of the shop, sliding the curtain closed behind her.

I wait. The curtain isn’t full length, and as she kicks out of her shoes her bare feet, ankles, and lower calves are visible.  I hear a rustle of clothing, and see her blue dress fall to the floor. I feel a stirring in my groin at the thought of her behind the curtain, dressed only in her undergarments. More rustling, and then her voice.

“Would you mind zipping me up?”

I am aware of my erection growing, and shifting around uncomfortably, do my best to conceal it.

“Sure, no problem.”

She pushes the curtain aside and turns away. I step forward and she presents herself. I reach out and gently tug the zipper up.

“Fasten the hook if you would, please. Might as well get the full look.”

I fumble a bit before I successfully fasten the top of the dress in place. In so doing, my fingers brush her skin. I am aware of her scent. We are dangerously close to one another.

I break the trance and take several steps backward. She spins and faces me.

The dress, and her, are a vision of beauty. Her gentle curves are accentuated, and this dress hugs her small breasts in a way that the other one didn’t. I am aware that I am staring at her, but I can’t look away.

“So, how do I look? Or, I should say, how does the dress look?”

I blurt out the truth. “You look ravishing. It’s perfect.”

She smiles radiantly. “That’s the nicest compliment I’ve heard in ages.” I detect a blush.

“You’re going to make me a poor man,” I say jokingly. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to take it.”

“I guess I haven’t lost my touch,” she replies, with what seems like an impish grin.

Feeling a bit impish myself, I add “Too bad I can’t take the whole package.”

I am immediately embarrassed, but decide not to compound the error, and let the silence fall upon us.

She responds by smiling broadly. “You’re a sweet man. An attractive one, too. Now come unzip me, and let’s get this dress off and wrapped up.”

She spins around once again and presents herself to me. The air is thick. I take two steps forward. Her head is bowed, and I brush her hair aside to gain access to the hook. My fingers brush the back of her neck once again. This time, I detect a slight shudder.

As delicately as I can, I unhook the dress and slowly, oh so slowly, unzip the dress, willing this moment to last as long as possible.

She lets out a long breath and remains still. As if drawn by a force I cannot control, I brush my fingertips down the soft skin between her shoulder blades. The shudder is more evident this time. She doesn’t move. I lean down and brush my lips against the downy hairs on her skin, barely touching her. Her scent is intoxicating.

She breaks contact by taking a big step forward. I am immediately mortified, realizing I’ve ventured far across a line. My heart begins to race, and I begin to back out of the dressing room when she wheels around to face me, her eyes gazing directly into mine, stopping me in my tracks.

I wait for what is coming. Without breaking eye contact, she slides the dress over her shoulders and gently steps out of it. She stands before me in lace bra and thong. Her eyes are piercing. Neither of us says a word.

She reaches behind her and grabs the hanger, delicately hanging the dress back on it. With a half turn, she places it back on the hook and turns once again to face me. For an eternal moment, neither of us moves. I am trembling with a mixture of nerves and desire.

She makes the first move, closing the space between us and placing her hands on my chest. She leans in and her lips brush against mine. My heart pounds as I take her face in my hands and open my mouth to deepen the kiss. She responds in kind, and our tongues probe one another’s mouths. Her arms encircle my shoulders as I move my hands down her back to pull her closely into me. My erection presses into her belly through my pants, and she lets out a whimper.

My hands run up and down the soft skin of her back as the passion in our kisses deepens. I slide my hands down to her firm, round ass, and she whimpers again.

I break the kiss and slide my hands around to the front of her body, tracing my fingers across the lacy front of her bra. Her nipples are already erect, pushing against the lace. I tweak them gently through the fabric, and she responds with an intake of breath as I pinch with more intensity.

I pause and move upward to slide her bra straps off her shoulders, exposing her breasts. I lean down and take a nipple in my mouth, running my tongue across and around it and feeling it harden further under my touch. She moans in approval, and I move to the other nipple. Back and forth I alternate, pushing her small breasts together to shorten the distance and enable more rapid movement between them. She clasps her hands across the back of my head and pulls me in closer.

I break away again and reach behind her to unclasp the bra, and I slide it completely off, leaving her naked from the waist up, clad only in her thong. She kisses me feverishly and then pushes back and unbuttons my dress shirt, complimenting me on my style as she does so. I shed the shirt and she moves toward my belt, quickly unbuckling it and opening my pants. She reaches inside and pushes my pants and boxers down. My cock, freed from its constraints, springs forth, rock hard, precum already dripping from its tip.

In a flash she is on her knees, clasping my member and gazing up at me intently before swirling her tongue around it and engulfing it in her mouth. I reach down and run my fingers through her hair as she continues to work me. My cock is about to explode, and I pull her off me and stand her up. I push her thong aside and dip a finger, then two, inside her. She is soaking wet.

I step out of my pants and slide her thong off. I move her to the bench and bend her over it. I slap my cock against her ass and then position it at her entrance. I tease her a bit and then slide it in slowly until I am completely bottomed out. She gasps, and I hold it there for a few moments before withdrawing entirely, then slamming it home again, roughly this time.

I grab her hips for leverage and pound her aggressively. Moans turn to screams, obscenities pour forth, and suddenly she loses all control, her body convulsing and her legs shaking uncontrollably. I pull out and plant soft kisses on her ass cheeks as she comes down from her orgasm.  When she begins to regain equilibrium, I shove two fingers back inside her and fuck her to another climax. Her hands are gripping the cushion on the bench for everything she is worth, and I feed her my fingers. She laps up her juices hungrily, and I position my cock to resume its assault.

I am possessed now. Her violent orgasms have stoked my fire, and I fuck her with every ounce of my being. I grab a fistful of hair at the base and pull, her head snapping back, and her throat exposed. She urges me vocally, and I whisper in her ear.

“You are so sexy, so hot. You turn me on so much.”

She responds, “My god, you are so hard!”

“You made me this hard, do you like seeing how much you turn me on?”

“God yes! I love it!”

I increase the pace and intensity of my thrusts until I can feel my own impending climax approach. As the point of no return nears, I issue fair warning.

“I’m going to cum….”

“Give it to me!” comes the response. “Cum inside me! I want it! I need it! Please!”

Her words put me over the edge, and I am blinded by the most intense orgasm I can remember. I empty myself inside this woman who I don’t even know, spasm after spasm pumping her full of my seed. As she feels it, she releases once again, this time emitting a blood-curdling scream of “Oh FUCK!!”

My climax seems to go on forever, the main earthquake gradually giving way to more gentle aftershocks. I am stunned by the sudden intimacy between us, and it takes over my being, thrilling me to the core.

I remain inside her for a time, until my gradually softening manhood disengages with a plop. A dollop of our combined fluids hits the floor with a splat. It is almost terrifying in its rawness and intensity.

I spin her around and kiss her deeply. She returns my passion measure for measure. I don’t want this moment to end, and I sense she doesn’t either.

But end it must. We have partners, and lives, to get back to. I’m nearly at a loss for words but manage this: “You are amazing.”

“Wow,” comes her compact reply. Then, “I hardly know what to say.”

“Me neither,” I respond with a slight chuckle.

This elicits a laugh from her, and then tears. She suddenly grabs me and holds me as tight as she can.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yes, I’m fine… more than fine, in fact.”

“What is it, then?”

She breaks the hug and fixes me with that gaze. “I don’t know what came over me. You probably won’t believe me, but I don’t do this type of thing. I mean at all. I haven’t been with anyone since I started dating my boyfriend.”

She pauses, and I hasten to add, “Same here… I’ve been completely faithful. And yet when I saw you in that dress…”

“I know,” she answers. “Sometime during the wrapping, I sensed something strange, a bit scary, and yet wonderful between us. Pure chemistry, I guess.”

“Is that why you decided to show me the dress?”

“Yes,” she replies. "I just wanted to savor the moment between us a bit longer."

“So, you weren’t seducing me,” I ask.

“Not yet, no. But then I noticed it was past closing time, and then we were alone in the back, and once you asked me if I was sure the dress was the right cut, everything just sort of happened.”

“It was when you asked me to zip you up…” I offer.

“I guess that was it, yes. I wasn’t conscious of what I was doing, it was like some unseen hand was guiding me.”

“Then I guess I should let that hand know how grateful I am,” I say.

At that, she laughs, and her eyes brighten.

“And now…. How are you feeling?” I inquire.

She pauses, piercing me with that look again, a small tear visible at the corner of one eye. She takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“That was amazing. And special. Very special. I meant what I said before. You are an exciting and attractive man. What we did was so intimate. And to be honest, I can’t remember ever being fucked like that.”

“You brought out the animal in me…” I reply.

“And you, what about you?”

I take a moment to compose my thoughts. “I feel a swirl of emotions. A little guilty, I suppose.”

“Me too,” she interjects.

“But no regrets,” I continue. “I guess I’ll have to work it out. This changes nothing at home, but there’s something magnetic and thrilling here.”

“I feel it, too. Do you think…”

I kiss her, then, our tongues dancing for minutes as I pull her naked body against mine.

“I don’t know,” is all I can offer in response. “Let’s not count out the possibility, but let’s give this some time.”

I am hard again, and a few minutes later I am back inside her. This time I scream her name as I flood her with my essence.

Slowly, and reluctantly, we dress. She offers to wrap the dress, but I thank her and tell her that I will save it for another occasion. I prefer to get the remaining transactional details over quickly, not wanting to lose the magic of this interlude.

After I pay, we linger just inside the door. She takes my hands in hers.

“Your wife is one lucky woman. You care enough to pay attention to the details. I hope this doesn’t cause you any problems, but I’m glad I’ve met you, and I will always treasure this little piece of heaven we stole here this afternoon.”

“Thank you,” I reply. “I feel the same way. I won’t ever forget this.”

We steal a glance out onto the street, and seeing no one, share one final passionate embrace.

She unlocks the door and I step out into the real world, making my way down the street toward the parking garage. The fog has moved in, and I can feel a soft mist against my face. A feeling of well-being mixed with melancholy fills me as I begin the hour-plus journey to my home and my wife, another woman’s bodily fluids now dried on my manhood, visions of me seeping slowly out of her. I smile. Life will never be the same.