Emily Cleans Up Good

I jumped visibly with fright and spun around, twisting in the air and nearly twisting my ankle when I landed.

“Oh god I’m sorry,” Rachel said, her apology sincere, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Hand on my heart I stared wide eyed at her, intentionally slowing my breathing, “It’s alright. Not too sure why you got me so bad.”

Of course I did know. I knew precisely why her little surprise had triggered my nerves. It was all those hungry eyes and the needs they felt for me. It was a little moment where I thought that one of them had gotten up the nerves to finally take me, dragging me into the darkness for a quiet little night of thrusting and power and pleasure without ever reaching the party. And it was the fact that, in the moment where I thought it was happening, fear was the last thing on my mind.

And that scared me more than anything else.

“Damn girl, you clean up good!” Rachel exclaimed, her eyes running up and down me, “I mean I’m pissed you never reached out to me but this is a good look. Really cute. Light and flowy. Beautiful, truly. Not too sure how it fits the theme of the night though…”

Her voice trailed off and I shrugged, “I didn’t… I didn’t really think of that. I just decided to wear what I wanted to wear. I guess maybe… flower child?”

When I’d laid the sundress out for review I’d missed the memory Emily had of it. A brief few months where she’d been into the idea of making her own clothing and started by altering the ones she had.

This dress had been the only piece she had actually finished and it showed that it was a first attempt and that was reason enough for me to probably have gone for the other option but I’d already made up my mind by then so I wasn’t about to change it now.

She’d cut the dress, slicing into the fabric with scissors and inexpertly putting it back together. The alterations were minor, mostly changing the back of it into a plunging sort of number that came down nearly to the top of her ass and made it so that her whole back was nearly exposed and ensuring that the dress couldn’t be worn without showing your bra.

I’d not had the courage for that, really. Instead picking out something that was halfway between a bra and a string bikini top and slipping it onto me to give me that extra little layer of protection. I knew the strap in the back was visible but I figured it would only look bad. I didn’t know it would give people ideas.

Still with the long flowing nature of it and the fabric being an oddly inconsistent kind of pattern the closest timeline I could pick out was the sixties, not wanting to acknowledge that free love was the last thing I wanted to try to offer today. Still I’d leaned into it a little, pairing the dress with sandals and a little crown I’d fastened together and trying to have the confidence to wear it without sinking into myself.

“I can see that, though I didn’t take you for a hippy. Either way you wear it well,” she smiled at me and I noticed her eyes flicker down, an almost ****, out of control movement that triggered the memory in my mind of the morning with her that perhaps was yet to come.

Rachel pressing down on me, pressing between my thighs. Giving me a birthday present that made my back arch and my hands grab the sheets. Our two bodies intertwined as I muffled my moans and felt my need reach a fever pitch until she sent me tumbling into the depths of a pleasure that she knew only too well herself.

“You look good too,” I said, “Umm… 50s?”

She was dressed in a style that I had to say accentuated her best features. Blonde and buxom with a tiny waist and a flare of impressive hips.

She’d gone quintessential housewife, a flared dress that was tight around the ribs and the bust. Patterned and with her arms and slender legs on full display.

Of course it was a modernized interpretation. I don’t know how many dresses from that era really had necklines so very generously low.

At my compliment Rachel smiled and gave me a spin, her dress fluttering out and brushing against me a little bit before she plucked at the edges of it and gave a little curtsey.

“Well thanks Miss,” she says, “I do wish you’d replied to my texts, though. I mean I’ve got a second one of these dresses in my closet. We could have been matching, like sisters!”

Being sisters was the last thing on her mind. She was after something a whole lot closer than that.

I stammered, “I’m sorry. I got all preoccupied and ran out of time. Had to meet my landlord and find my clothes and… it was all a little much.”

“Must’ve been, so how’s the place?”

“It’s good. It’s the attic of a house just off campus owned by a… by a guy. He’s really nice and it’s really nice and it’s all...”

“Nice,” she finished for me, “The landlord is cool though? Not a creep?”

“No, he’s cool,” I reassured her, “He’s an older guy but he’s pretty interesting. He like travels the world and fixes old buildings and stuff. I mean he is older but he still seems pretty… pretty…”

While I struggled to find the words, Rachel gave me options, “I’m not sure whether you’re going to go with nice or friendly or hot.”

I started to blush almost instantly at the thought of the last one. Frankly I was pretty sure it was the one my **** mind wanted to bring up.

“Naughty girl,” Rachel teased, “Well I hope your new Daddy doesn’t mind you staying out past curfew, because I’m gonna have fun tonight and I’m looking for a partner in crime.”

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