Teaching His Virgin

Chapter Four

Britney

I’ve definitely fallen down the rabbit hole, I think, enjoying all of the outfits I’ve gotten to see — dresses, leather suits, corsets, and very short skirts. I love every minute of it.

I’m playing my other favorite game now: taking down notes on each outfit and writing the ways I would improve them. By that, I mean the ways they could be reworked to further enhance the wearer’s beauty, not just show off more skin.

But I’m not scared by any of this.

I love the new vibe.

I just wish there wasn’t so much emphasis on – Before my eyes, yet another person comes into view covered in tatters of clothing, designed to show off everything but the barest tip of the nipple, and sometimes even that is on display — showing so much skin.

I sigh, telling my face to cool off and my pussy to do the same. I’m here to get ideas and inspiration, not to get flustered and distracted by my wet, virgin pussy. My other friends can go off and lose their virginity (if they haven’t already), but I’m in working mode. I’m in fashion designer mode, and I’ve already taken notes on my phone.

Now, I’m taking pictures again, though on the sly. My focus is on one particular clubgoer, this woman, in the most interesting “coat” I’ve ever seen. It’s down to her calves. It’s made of velvet, but almost like the woman in the fancy corset from earlier, it’s covered in belts. Although this one has more embroidery and more stitching and gem work than that one had.

I feel someone draw up beside me, and before I can hide my phone — and the fact that I’ve taken so many probably-illegal pictures on it — I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn, quickly trying to tuck my phone away.

The moment I take my eyes away, I recognize the tall man who’s come to stand next to me. He is the same dapper-dressed individual who gave us all the invitation into the club. He smiles at me, seeming to ignore my discomfort — the blush of embarrassment I have on my cheeks — and points to the woman in the coat I’ve been studying.

“What do you think of that? Do you like the coat?”

For a moment, I’m not sure what he’s asking me. My brain is so overwhelmed by the idea that I might be in trouble for having my phone as I do, that I can’t speak.

I can’t answer him immediately, so he elaborates.

“You seem intrigued enough. I’ve been watching you check out the various fashions displayed on the floor, and I’m interested to hear what you think. You’ve been writing enough and taking enough pictures.”

He gives me another sly smile.

“Which I will keep any mention of to myself. Normally, they would be prohibited and get you kicked out, of course.”

Now I’m not sure what I’m feeling. His thinly veiled threat is somewhat frightening to me, but it is also oddly turning me on. My pussy is now warming from the gruffness in his voice and the warning reverberating in my ears.

I turn away, trying to get my mind back on fashion.

“Well, for starters…” I quickly find the coat in question and fix my eyes on that, and on the notes I recorded on my phone. “For starters, I would make sure that the belts are wider in some places. Like around her hips and backside. They can still be there, but the amount of flesh, the amount of skin showing… I don’t know if I would make something like that and then expect someone to walk around in it. Especially not out in public, not if they are planning to get somewhere.”

I look at the coat again, realizing that the revealing quality is not just on the backside of the coat where it drapes down, but along the wearer’s front. Her nipples are pretty much fully exposed. Her breasts are allowed to push through and in between some of the belt work.

“That goes for the front of it as well. If it’s a coat it should cover something, not just drape around her like that — it’s like my grandmother’s embroidery kit got in a fight with my dad’s belt collection.”

I fall silent after that, not sure if these were the kind of ‘thoughts’ he was looking for or not.

I’m thinking probably not at this point. He looks serious, troubled, and not in a good way.

“That coat is an Ainsworth. Most people can’t afford a coat like that, let alone suggest changes to it.”

I laugh at that moment. I’m not sure whether it’s out of nerves or genuine humor. The man said that so seriously, with so much defensiveness, I can’t help but feel uncomfortable.

“Sorry. I’m not meaning to laugh at you, but it’s what I do with designs and people in them. I think about how to make changes, make them reflect more of the wearer’s beauty, not just the designer’s whims. I can’t help it. I’ve always been that way. It’s the reason I decided to go to NYU for fashion design, and why I have big plans to learn everything I can. Especially any and all designers I don’t know much about.”