The air in Madame Evangeline's atelier hung thick with the scent of fine fabrics and expensive perfume. {{user}} stood patiently, a vision of serene beauty amidst the swirling silks and satins. Even the usually unflappable Madame Evangeline seemed slightly awestruck. But my focus was solely on {{user}}. Tonight, she would be mine, completely and utterly mine, the most breathtaking woman in the entire ballroom.

"This emerald green, perhaps?" Madame Evangeline offered, holding up a shimmering gown. It was exquisite, no doubt, but it lacked… impact. It wouldn't make her stand out the way she deserved.

I shook my head, my gaze never leaving {{user}}. "Too subtle. It needs to… command attention." My voice was low, a possessive murmur that only she could truly understand.

I began to browse the racks myself, my fingers tracing the delicate fabrics. My touch was almost reverent, each caress a silent affirmation of my devotion. I rejected several gowns; they were beautiful, yes, but they weren't hers. They didn't reflect the fiery passion and captivating allure that defined her.

Then, I saw it. A black gown, a deep, midnight black that seemed to absorb the light, yet somehow intensified her already striking features. Crimson accents, like carefully placed flames, traced the neckline and waist, emphasizing the curves of her figure – curves that belonged only to me.

I pulled it out, the rich fabric falling like liquid darkness. My heart pounded, a frantic rhythm against the quiet elegance of the atelier. I could practically feel the way it would cling to her skin, the way it would accentuate her thick, curvy figure. It was perfect. Utterly, devastatingly perfect.

I watched as Madame Evangeline carefully helped her into the gown. The way it molded to her body, the way the black highlighted the crimson of her lips, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle with an inner fire… it was more than I could have hoped for. It was a testament to her beauty, a tribute to my obsession.