Call it a public service!

You have to think about that for a moment. ‘Well…’ Then it’s obvious, and you smile. ‘Wasn’t exactly all that long ago that I was one of those slavering animals fantasising about you, was it? I have sympathy with anyone who spends their nights jerking off to pictures of you in a pretty dress.’

Emma looks simultaneously embarrassed and flattered. ‘Oh, hush,’ she mutters, tugging at her dress.

‘Nah, I’m serious!’ You touch her arm lightly; the material is gorgeous, soft and crinkly and expensive – and, naturally, it fits her like a glove. ‘Blush all you want, Emma, you’re a fucking fantasy for hundreds of thousands of us. And if you occasionally decide to step out in a dress that shows off a little more…’

Emma’s chin finally comes up, and she’s smiling reluctantly. ‘Well,’ you finish, ‘I’d consider it a public service, to be honest with you. Seriously. Can you imagine how many orgasms you’ll have caused by this time next week?’

Emma can’t stop herself giggling at that, even though she’s blushing. ‘Stop it! Seriously. You’re being ridiculous.’

‘I’m actually not,’ you retort, beginning to enjoy this. ‘Let’s say that dress causes a thousand guys to cum tonight, and that’s being conservative. How much pure happiness is that? Can you imagine having a thousand orgasms all at once? How much net positivity have you added to the world, just by you being you and wearing that dress?’

Emma has her face in her hands, but she’s laughing. ‘Okay, okay,’ she manages at last, ‘fine. I take it you’re in favour of no bra, then?’

You shrug amicably. ‘Could say that, yeah.’