Romans & histoires Theory Silk Blouse

"Cherub, which one should I wear?" Nana asked Zayn with a cute pout etched on her lips, looking adorable as she held two sarees in her hands –Cotton Silk Printed Saree with Blouse Piece and Hand Block Printed Saree. "The cotton silk one is finer and you won't have problem closing your stomach." He advised, looking up from his laptop wearing his wire glasses making him look sexier.

Monica explained nervously, trying to sound enthusiastic as she pointed out sheer silk blouses and ribbed knit tops designed to expose my collarbones. "Look at the tailoring on this, Miss Aurelia. If you pair this cropped sweater with the white leather mini, it accentuates your waist beautifully. Or, for a more formal look, he suggested this sheer silk blouse with the pleated wool skirt. It's designed to drape elegantly while leaving just the right amount of skin exposed." I stood there with my arms crossed, my expression frozen in a cold, hard glare. The tiny, fragile shred of hope I had harbored for his humanity just moments ago crushed into microscopic pieces. Every single item was calcul

And at first, I disregarded her words as a sales speech, because after all, Atlas must be spending a fortune on me here. But when she took my arm and led me to the tall mirror to see their handiwork, I couldn’t hold in my gasp. Even I could admit that the hair and makeup, coupled with my clothes, was an astonishing sight to behold. The cloth was a masterpiece of shimmering blue silk that draped and flowed around my hips with an almost hypnotic quality. Woven all through the material were silver threads that gleamed and blinked with any movement I made. Its sweetheart neckline hugged and lifted my breasts so lovingly it felt like a lover’s hands cupped them. I felt snug and almost overwhelmin

One dress in particular stopped me cold. Midnight blue silk, almost black in certain light. The neckline was elegant without being conservative, cut to showcase collarbones and the graceful line of a woman's neck. The fabric draped in a way that suggested movement, like water flowing over skin. Sophisticated, timeless, with just enough edge to be interesting. Perfect for Olivia. Before I could overthink it, I pushed through the door. A sales associate materialized immediately, her smile professional but warm. "Good evening, sir. Welcome to Maison Laurent."

And maybe I did. I slipped out of my dress slowly. Each movement felt more forbidden than the last. My zipper echoed in the stillness like the sound of rules being broken. I peeled the silk from my skin and slid the lingerie on each strap, each clasp, each lace panel pressing against my curves like a promise. The bra was a perfect fit. Too perfect. The panties sat low on my hips, the scalloped edge teasing the dip of my thighs. I’d never felt so naked while being technically dressed.

“Something professional but stylish.” Her eyes lit up, already scanning me like I was a project she was dying to perfect. “You have such a great frame for structured pieces. Let’s get you something that commands attention.” She said and gestured for me to follow. “First day at a new job?” “Something like that.” She pulled out a crisp white silk blouse and held it against my shoulders. “Classic. Timeless. This with a high waisted skirt? Perfection.” I ran my fingers over the fabric. “I’ll take it.”

She unbuttoned the second button. "Oh, my god! You're wearing a slip!" "It's silk. Just for you," she replied as she parted the sides of her blouse and unbuttoned the third button. She cupped her tits displaying them to her. On the couch, she caught her breath. "You're killing me," she pleaded.

Then the blazer—slid off my shoulders, pooled at my feet. The silk blouse came next. I took my time with the buttons, letting each one slip free like a confession. The fabric whispered down my arms and fell. Black lace bra underneath, sheer enough that my nipples were already peaked, dark and straining against the delicate material. I could feel his stare like a physical touch—hot, possessive, unblinking.