Shiny leather

She stands in that dress like it was poured on, black patent stretched tight across heavy breasts. Light slides over every curve, catching the swell of her cleavage and the way the laces cinch her waist. She runs her palms down her sides, fingertips gliding across the slick surface, enjoying how it feels against her skin. The material clings to her hips and rides up just enough to show the tops of her thighs. She turns slowly, glancing back at the mirror. “I heard men like this shiny stuff,” she says, almost to herself, giving the laces a small tug. “Guess I made the right choice.” Her hands drift lower, brushing the hem, then slip between her legs, pressing the glossy fabric against the heat there. She bites her lip, breath catching as her fingers start to move.