would be too.
Juliette’s skin was pale under the lights. Sophie gazed at the space where Juliette’s breasts met, pushed together, two semi-circles of delicious-looking flesh. A big jet crucifix nestled there too. She wanted to be as close as the crucifix; she was desperate to touch, to taste and to bury her head right in that spot. Probably not appropriate feelings to have about a bride to be, but not uncommon ones for her either. She wasn’t going to deny them. Her body wouldn’t allow that. It was an instinctive response. She would satisfy herself later, with memories, once Juliette had left. When she was alone.
Sophie was adept at holding images firmly in place in her mind, able to retrieve them for her own satisfaction. They might be glimpses, of a woman behind a carelessly pulled curtain in her changing room, of a smooth back, a softly rounded belly and pert breasts. A woman excited about her future, quick to bare her body for the designer. Anticipating her special day. All of these days were special for Sophie, and never more so than with Juliette as a customer.
‘Perfect,’ Juliette said, touching Sophie’s bare arm.
‘Almost done,’ Sophie whispered, holding Juliette’s hand in place, just for a moment. She would have been happy for this task to continue all night. Adjusting Juliette’s wedding dress to ensure a perfect fit. She drew away and sat cross-legged on the floor, checking the hem.
‘He will love it,’ Juliette said. ‘Releasing me at the end of the day, thinking I’m his.’
‘I have no doubt,’ Sophie replied. ‘The dress is beautiful, and so are you. I hope he’s worth it.’
Sophie struggled to keep the bitter tone from her voice.
Juliette momentarily looked surprised, then made a face.
‘Maybe, I’m not sure,’ she said. Whether she meant about her beauty or his worth was uncertain. Sophie was always astonished at the doubts women brought to her studio. The imperfections they saw in their bodies, faces, hair. Sophie was blind to most of them, but then she had always been a great lover of the female form, in all its variety. Her job suited her so much. She was successful, could afford to be discerning about the brides she created dresses for.
‘And I will never belong to him. I’m my own woman; no one else has done enough to earn me. Not yet.’
This sounded like a warning shot. Juliette turned to face Sophie.
‘What would you think? Would you be pleased?’
She knows, Sophie thought, but that was no great surprise. Her sexuality was no dark secret. She didn’t answer but lowered her head, not wishing Juliette to see her flush. With embarrassment or desire? Or a mixture of the two.
‘Do you think it needs adjusting here?’
Juliette indicated the bodice. Sophie had embroidered a row of seed-pearls at the edge, entwined with intricate gold thread. Juliette was tucking her fingers between the dress and her body. The bodice was low, encasing her breasts, just, giving a medieval appearance to her overall look. Her dark nipples were just tucked below the edge. On the day she would wear a shawl of gold chiffon, but now her arms, shoulders and cleavage were on show.
‘I’ll check for you,’ Sophie said. The stays were as tight as she could pull them. And the dress was snug at the back. It would stay in place.
‘It’s here, at the front, look.’
Juliette turned to face Sophie.
Sophie smoothed down the front of the bodice, making invisible adjustments, knowing from experience it was perfect. She ran her fingers along the line of pearls, feeling the warmth of Juliette’s body beneath. She ran her hands down her sides. The fit was just right. She left them in place on her waist, unwilling to let go.
‘You want me, don’t you?’ Juliette asked her. ‘Like he does. Bitch. Taking advantage of the situation. Touching me.’ She pulled away from Sophie, held her hands across her breasts.
Sophie looked away, uncertain how to answer, surprised at Juliette’s tone. She had misread this situation, for the first time ever. Of course she wanted her. Had done since she’d entered the studio three months ago. Wanted her every time she came for a fitting, felt like she knew every inch of her body, but desperately desired intimacy with her. And she had felt some reciprocation at times. Some small flirtations – smiles, unnecessary baring of flesh, touches. They had all been signs, almost invitations to Sophie. But she had always remained aware the other woman was about to marry. Over the months Juliette had told her much about Matt. Women tended to. Like a hairdresser, people confided in her. Slowly revealed details about their lives. Told her how they liked to be fucked. About their first time with their husbands to be. Shy at first, they soon opened up, and Sophie encouraged it. She had no desire to be fucked by a man again, but hearing about other women’s pleasure turned her on. She took a deep breath. It was her turn to confide. If she didn’t take this chance this woman would be lost to her for ever.
‘I do. But I’m not taking advantage of you. Look, hands off.’ She took her hands from her waist and held them in the air. The irony of the words she used wasn’t lost on either of them. She smiled.
‘I’m teasing you.’ Juliette returned her smile. ‘It’s his favourite fantasy, you know, seeing me with another woman. I’ve never fulfilled it for him. Although I’ve fulfilled many others.’
‘Indeed?’ Sophie feigned surprise. But she could always tell. Some women exuded innocence; some spoke of their virginity with pride, although very few did these days. Juliette was not one of those women.
Juliette touched Sophie’s arm again, causing her to shudder. Her hands had encircled the other woman’s waist, like his would do on the day. She tried to suppress her jealousy, to no avail.
‘Yes, I’ve gone along with many things. But not that. You don’t think I’m going to try it now, do you? Without him here to watch?’
Sophie looked away. The woman was taunting her, playing with her. But that didn’t quell her desire, it intensified it.
‘I don’t know. I would, but then I know I’m good. Better than many men. I understand what pleases women. But if you’re not interested, then that’s your loss. I can find my pleasure elsewhere. You’re not the only woman in the world.’ This last statement felt insincere. Juliette was clearly not the only woman in the world, but she was the woman Sophie was most desperate to fuck and be fucked by.
Juliette hesitated, then leant towards her, tilting her head slightly, and kissed her. She broke away for a second.
‘I think you may have helped me change my mind. I like someone strong and persuasive. It’s sexy.’
Sophie could taste mint and lip gloss. She might have won her over. Juliette kissed her again. Sophie closed her eyes, imagining that this would soon end and she would be alone. But the kiss became more intense. Juliette parted her lips with her tongue, flicking around inside Sophie’s mouth, twisting around her own tongue. She responded, returning the kiss. Juliette cupped her face in her hands, stroking her cheek, pushing her hair back. Sophie savoured the moment, not knowing if it would end abruptly. Juliette could change her mind, feel she had made a mistake, pay for her dress, disappear from her studio and her life. She had to seize this moment. She reached round the tiny waist and undid the bow, slowly releasing the stays, loosening the bodice. She felt Juliette’s body relax. She stroked her back. Her tailor’s hand had a sensitive touch. Juliette shivered,
