The Midnight Blue Silk Dress

The Midnight Blue Silk Dress

The Hotel Regina, on Victoria Street, still kept the air of the 1930s between its stucco walls and its aged mirrors. Irene Alvear crossed it that Friday with the light suitcase of black canvas and her heart beating it with a mixture of anticipation and calm. She wore a grey pearl jacket suit and, underneath, the piece she had made for three weeks: a set of lace of bone color Calais, so fine that it looked like a second skin. Each stitch, each bow, had been thought for this moment.

In Suite 407, the light sifted through the curtains of raw linen. On the bed, already extended, waited for the midnight blue silk dress that Valeria had asked him to bring. Irene touched him with the yolk of her fingers. The cloth slipped like warm, fresh water, with an almost imperceptible weight. He lifted it up and let it fall on his own body; the brush against the naked skin caused a chill that swept through his spine. He stayed like this for a few seconds, breathing the smell of old and clean wood that was shedding the room.

Valeria arrived on time, at nine a.m. She called with two soft blows and waited. When Irene opened, she saw her with the long coat of black wool and leather gloves up to her elbow. Her hazelnut eyes ran through Irene's jacket suit and stopped at the neck, where the lace loop barely appeared.

"Good evening," said Valeria, with a low, contained voice. "Do you still want it to be mine tonight?"

Irene nodded. “The pulse accelerated, but her response was clear.

"Yes. I want you to guide me. I want to obey you and you decide when and how you touch me.

Valeria smiled barely, almost tenderly, and closed the door behind her. She left her coat on the back of a chair and took off her gloves with slow movements. She left them on the table as if they were ritual objects. Then she approached until she was one step away from Irene.

"Take off the jacket," he asked. "Just the suit. The rest, leave it alone.

Irene unbuttoned her buttons with firm fingers. “The zipper of the skirt, as she went down, seemed too strong in silence. She took off her jacket and left it on the same chair. She remained in lace and skirt camisole, the skin of the neckline and arms exposed to the golden light of the lamp. Valeria surrounded Irene slowly, without touching her yet. The brush of the air that lifted her step was the first real contact.

"Turn around," Valeria said when she came to her back. "I want to see silk fall on your body when you put on your dress.

Irene took the dress from the bed. The silk had a texture that seemed alive: soft, slightly cold at first, then warm against the skin. She passed it over her head carefully, letting it slip to her ankles. The cleavage in uve showed the lace she was wearing under her; her back was almost exposed except for fine cross straps. Midnight blue contrasted with her light skin and enhanced the blush that began to climb her neck.

Valeria released a contained exhalation.

Don't move until I tell you.

Irene obeyed. She heard the sound of Valeria’s shoes moving away and back. A moment later, she felt something cold and metallic being placed on her left wrist: black velvet-lined handcuffs. They did not squeeze; they only remembered that their hands were now under control. The other wrist was held to the first with a short chain. Irene breathed deeper, but she did not protest. The metal covered in cloth was strange and exciting to her against hot skin.

"Walk to the mirror," said Valeria. "I want you to look at yourself.

Irene took five slow steps. In front of the whole body mirror she could see: the dress fell in straight and fluid lines, but as she moved she let her curves be guessed and, above all, the lace that appeared through the neckline and the lateral opening. The arms held by the handcuffs forced her to maintain an upright posture, shoulders back. Valeria's reflection appeared behind her, without touching her yet.

"Tell me what you feel," Valeria asked.

"I feel that silk sticks a little to my thighs when I breathe, and that lace reminds me that I have something you chose, and that I can't move my hands.

"All right, now we're going to have dinner here. I'll choose the times. You'll only answer when I ask you.

Valeria had ordered dinner in advance. On the center table there was a tray with covered plates, a bottle of very cold white wine and two glasses. Irene sat on the edge of the sofa; the chain of handcuffs tinted against the wood of the armrest. Valeria stood in front of her, opened the dishes and served. The smell of grilled asparagus and smoked salmon filled the space. Valeria split an asparagus with the knife, wet it in the butter sauce and brought it to Irene’s lips.

"Eat," he said. "Slowly.

Irene opened her mouth. The contrast between the heat of the asparagus and the freshness of the butter gave her a small involuntary sound. As she chewed, Valeria wiped a drop of sauce from her lip with her thumb, without haste. Then she took the same finger to her own mouth and sucked it. Irene swallowed saliva, more for the image than for the food.

The dinner lasted almost an hour. Between bite and bite, Valeria spoke of her week, of a new collection of fabrics she had received, of how she liked to see Irene contained and expectant. Whenever Irene tried to respond more than necessary, Valeria raised two fingers and she kept quiet. Silence became another form of caress.

When they were finished, Valeria picked up the dishes and left them outside the door. She returned with a glass of wine for each one. She sat on the arm of the sofa, so that Irene had to turn her body slightly to look at it. The chain of handcuffs repicked against the glass plate that was still on the table.

"Now I'm going to blindfold you," Valeria said. "Not because you want me to stop seeing you, but because I want you to feel more the touch of silk and lace. Do you agree?

"Yes," answered Irene without hesitation.

Valeria pulled a strip of black silk out of the vest pocket. She gently placed it over Irene’s eyes, tingling it on the back of her neck. The world became dark and the rest of her senses sharpened: the smell of wine, the crackling away from the heat, the rubbing of Valeria’s clothes as she moved. She felt her neck touched with two fingers, drawing the neckline of the dress to the hollow between her breasts. The contact was so light that it almost hurt because of the little she promised.

"Breath deep," Valeria whispered in her ear. "I want every time you fill your lungs to notice how the lace stretches against your skin.

Irene obeyed. The air entered cold and came out hot; each inhalation made the lace rub the already hardened nipples. The brush was minimal, almost a suggestion, but sufficient for a deaf heartbeat to begin to form between her legs.

Valeria got up. Irene heard the sound of the zipper of her own dress coming down her back. The silk opened like a curtain and the air of the room stroked her spine. The dress fell to her ankles with a whisper. Now there was only the lace set: high-cut panties with lateral ties, garter and very fine stockings. Handcuffed hands prevented her from covering herself, even though she did not want it.

Valeria surrounded her again. This time she did touch her: she passed her palms through her sides, from the hips to under her arms, without getting to brush her breasts. The leather of the gloves had disappeared; now they were bare, warm hands, with slightly rough buds because of the work with the fabrics. She stopped on the ribs, just where the lace ended and the skin began.

"Tell me what you need," Valeria asked.

"I need you to take my bow off my panties with your teeth," Irene replied, surprising herself for the clarity of the phrase. "And let me wait a little longer.

Valeria rio bajito, a serious sound that Irene felt in her stomach. She knelt down in front of her. Irene perceived the heat of her breathing through the lace. Valeria’s teeth caught the left loop and threw slowly. The knot fell apart. Then she did the same thing with her right. The panties were loose, about to fall. Valeria did not remove it yet.

"Stay that way," he said. "I will prepare the next step for you.

Irene heard that Valeria was moving away to the suitcase she had brought herself. She took out something that creaked like silk paper. A moment later, she returned and placed a soft object against Irene’s back: a kind of black satin bra with very light whales. She adjusted it over the current lace, and closed the hooks precisely. The new bra squeezed just enough to remember her presence every time Irene breathed. The cups, lined with tulle, let the heat of the skin pass but did not allow direct contact.

"Now walk to the window," Valeria said. "I want you to feel how the city looks at you without being able to touch you.

Irene twitched forward, guided by Valeria’s voice. The window had a wide marble sill. Irene stopped in front of the glass. Though her eyes were blindfolded, she knew that the lights of the Gran Vía were reflected in the buildings opposite. The new bra gave her a more upright posture; the original lace now rubbed the lower part of the breasts with every slight movement. The panties, still loose, threatened to slip if she took a step further.

Valeria placed herself behind her, so close that Irene felt the heat of her body through her clothes. She passed her arm forward, without touching her breasts, and leaned her hand on Irene’s belly, just above the lace of the panties. The thumb drew slow circles over the unmade loop.

"I can see how your breathing is speeding up," he muttered. "Do you want me to put my hand down?"

"Yes," replied Irene, almost voiceless. "Please."

Valeria lowered her hand half an inch, rubbing the lace. Then another half an inch. She stopped. Irene had to contain a groan of contained frustration. The pleasure was on that border: knowing that Valeria could touch her and deciding not to do it yet.

"Turn around," Valeria said. "I want to see you face to face.

Irene turned. The handcuffs tinted. Valeria carefully removed her bandage. The light in the room seemed blinding for a second; then she saw Valeria’s face very close, her eyes bright, her lips open. Valeria grabbed her face with both hands and kissed her at last: a slow, deep kiss, which tasted white wine and control. Irene responded with all her body that allowed her restrictions, bowing to her.

When they separated, Valeria smiled at him with a mixture of tenderness and authority.

"Now I'm going to take your panties off," he said. "But first I want to hear you ask me again."

"Please take it off," said Irene. "I want to feel your mouth."

Valeria knelt again. This time she pulled the ties already undone and the panties fell to the ground. The fresh air hit her on the wet skin. Valeria did not rush. First she kissed the inner part of one thigh, then the other one, going up very slowly. When she reached the vertex, she passed her tongue through the edge of the lace that still covered the outer lips. Irene had to lean on the windowsill to keep her balance. The handcuffs prevented her from holding on to Valeria’s head, so she just let herself go.

Valeria licked patiently, alternating pressure and softness, stopping each time Irene seemed about to reach the limit. Every time she stopped, Irene let go of a short sigh that sounded almost like a sob. The satin bra oppressed her breasts; each breath made the tulle rub the nipples already sensitive. The contrast between the oppression of the bra and the freedom of the lower part of the body created a tension that Irene had never experienced so clearly.

When Valeria decided that the time had come, she introduced two fingers slowly, curving them forward. At the same time, she sucked the clitoris more firmly. Irene arched violently, banging the window with handcuffed hands. Orgasm went through her in long, deep waves, which made her bend her knees. Valeria held her, still touching her until the spasms turned.

Later, Valeria got up and kissed her again, sharing the taste. She unlocked the handcuffs and left them on the table. She massaged Irene’s wrists carefully, kissing every red mark the velvet had left. Then she drove her to the bed and helped her lie down.

"Now I take away your bra," he said quietly. "He has fulfilled his function."

He unbuttoned it slowly, releasing his breasts. The relief was immediate and, at the same time, strange: the skin seemed more sensitive without pressure. Valeria lay beside him, still fully dressed, and passed her hand through Irene’s belly, chest, neck, in long, reassuring caresses.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Floating," replied Irene. "As if the skin reminded me of every place where you touched me and every place where you decided not to touch me yet.

Valeria smiled and took off her shoes. She put on the time just to take off her vest and shirt. Below she wore a simple black bra and linen pants. She took them off too. She stayed in organic cotton underwear, dark grey, almost austere compared to Irene’s. She lay down again and lured Irene against her body.

"Now sleep for a while," he said. "When you wake up, we will continue. Or not. You decide.

Irene closed her eyes. Her body weighed deliciously; each muscle seemed to have been released after the strain maintained. Valeria’s smell — a little bit of sandalwood soap and hot skin — wrapped her up. Before falling asleep, she thought that power was not only in command or obedience, but in the confidence of knowing that either of them could stop everything with one word and that even so, both of them still chose to continue.

He woke up an hour later. The room was still dim; only the light of a lamppost entered through the open window. Valeria was awake, drawing lazy circles on Irene’s back with the yolk of her fingers. When she noticed Irene moving, she bowed and kissed her shoulder.

"Do you want to continue?" he asked.

Irene turned around and looked Valeria in the eye and nodded.

But this time I want you to use your tongue again and don't stop until I ask you to. Can you?

Valeria rio bajito, please.

• I can, and I want to.

It was placed between Irene’s legs, which opened without hesitation. This time the rhythm was even slower. Valeria explored with her tongue every fold, every sensitive point, alternating between sucking and licking with the flat tip. Irene grabbed onto the sheets, bowing. The second orgasm was different: longer, deeper, almost painful because of how much she had expected it. When she finished, Irene gently pulled Valeria’s hair, telling her to stop.

"Come here," he asked, with a snoring voice.

Valeria went up and curled up against her. Irene passed a hand through her chest, going down to the edge of her underwear. Valeria held her breath.

"Now you," said Irene. "I want to feel you rushing into my hand."

Valeria took off her underwear. Irene touched her with safe fingers, finding the exact point she knew she liked it. Valeria moved against her hand, controlling the rhythm herself, until she shook and stood still, breathing against Irene’s neck.

Then, the two remained silent for a while, listening to the distant traffic and the heartbeat of their own hearts. Irene joined the time just to reach the bottle of water that was on the table. She drank a sip and offered it to Valeria, who also drank. Then they hugged again, skin against skin, without haste.

At dawn, when the grey light began to filter through the curtains, Valeria rose up and prepared a bath in the huge foot bath of the suite. She threw out lavender salts and tested the temperature with her elbow. When she was ready, she helped Irene enter. The hot water relaxed the muscles that still remembered the tension of the previous hours. Valeria got behind her and soaped her with a soft sponge, paying special attention to the wrists and the lumbar area. Irene let her take care of her, enjoying the contrast between the domination of the night and the tenderness of now.

When they left, Valeria dried Irene with a large, hot towel that she had heated up on the radiator. Then she dressed in comfortable clothes: dark jeans and a thick cotton shirt. Irene put on the silk dress again, but with nothing under it. The fabric was strangely comforting against freshly washed skin.

Before he left, Valeria handed him a small package wrapped in silk paper.

"Open it at home," he said. "It's a new bond for the next time you want me to tie your hands.

Irene kept it in her coat pocket. They went down together to the lobby. The receptionist did not even look up. Outside, Victoria Street was almost deserted at that early hour. They said goodbye with a brief but deep kiss, knowing that they would see each other again soon and that each meeting would add a new layer to the story they were writing with bodies, fabrics and silences.

Irene walked to Atocha station with her coat fastened to her neck and package in her pocket. The subway was already working. She sat in an almost empty car and closed her eyes. The rolling of the train reminded her of the swing of the hotel bed. She smiled for herself, thinking that the power of silk was not in what she showed, but in what she promised to hide and reveal at the exact moment.

When he arrived at his apartment, he opened the package. Inside there was a black velvet bow, wider than the handcuffs, with a silver clasp in the shape of a knot. He stroked it for a moment, feeling the softness against his fingers. Then he kept it in the drawer of the bedside table, next to the notebook where he pointed ideas for new designs. I knew that the next garment he made would have to incorporate that same velvet in some subtle way, so that every time Valeria saw it she knew that Irene was still choosing, again and again, to turn herself in.

The midnight blue silk dress was hung in the closet, wrinkled just in the lower part, with the scent of Valeria still attached to the cloth. Irene planted it carefully and left it ready for the next time the city, the hotel and the desire were back to coincide. I knew it would not be soon; the ritual needed its waiting time. But I also knew that when it arrived, the silk rub against her skin would remind her that the true domain was not in force, but in shared patience and the certainty that both continued to choose every step of the way.