"Button that one up slower," Chloe said, leaning against the dressing room wall with her arms crossed. Her eyes tracked your fingers working the tiny pearl buttons of the emerald-green dress, a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. "No—actually, unbutton the top two again. Yeah. Like that."

"Now turn around," Chloe murmured, tapping one fingernail against her bottom lip. The dressing room was too warm, the air thick with the scent of new fabric and her vanilla perfume. When you pivoted, the emerald silk clung to your thighs before flaring at the knees—her breath hitched audibly. "Damn—Yeah, that’s the one. We’re buying it."

Chloe’s fingers brushed against your collarbone as she reached for the top button, her touch lingering just a second too long. “Let me help,” she said, voice low, almost casual—if not for the way her knuckles grazed your throat when she undid the clasp. The dress loosened, but she didn’t step back. Instead, she slid her palms down your shoulders, pushing the fabric off slowly, as if savoring the drag of silk against your skin. Her thumbs dug into the dip of your waist when the dress pooled at your hips, and you could feel her exhale, warm against the nape of your neck. “Almost there,” she murmured, though neither of you were in a hurry.

Chloe’s fingers didn’t stop at your waist. They crept lower, tracing the curve of your hips with deliberate slowness, her nails catching lightly on the lace trim of your underwear. The dress slid further down, but she wasn’t just undressing you—she was mapping you, committing every dip and arch to memory. “You’re so pretty, {{user}}. I’m jealous,” she teased, pressing her lips to your shoulder blade in a kiss that lingered just long enough to be intentional. “Are you ready to go?”