Emma Morgan walked, naked, out of the bathroom, fresh from a long session in the shower. On the bed lay the gown, meticulously spread. Emma felt so proud, that she had designed and applied every last stitch to the burgundy silk material.

Mainston College, having a course in fashion design, had been her first choice when leaving high school. Emma had shown such flair that she was encouraged to stay on for a doctorate in dress design. Now, at twenty-four, it was the end of her college life. Soon she would be settling into her dream of being a fully-fledged dress designer.

Now, looking in the full-length mirror, she viewed the body the gown had been made for. Extra heels would be essential to keep the hem from trailing. She ran a hand from breast to thigh and trembled at the thought of the hand of one very special man, doing that. She gave a little shudder of expectation, glanced again at the gown, lying on the bed.

Emma giggled, as she thought, after all her work on that gown, how long would it take for him to have her out of it?

Nine days before the prom, she had debated whether to go, or not. The gown could be used for some other occasion. Then, the college secretary had come to tell her that there was, “A Professor Christian Parsons, asking for you on the office phone.” The secretary was new and hadn’t recognized the name.

An excited Emma knew exactly who it was. Why would he be ringing her now? It was almost two years since, that time.

Nervously, she picked up the phone, “Hello, this is Emma Morgan.”

His voice, deep and resonant as ever, as he replied, “Ah, yes, the brilliant dress designer. Your principal has been singing your praises.”

Controlling her breathing Emma said, “She exaggerates, Professor Parsons.”

“Whoa, no more of the professor. I’m not at your college, and you are almost away into the big world. Call me Chris.”

“All right, Chris. Why are you phoning me?” She was so curious about this approach.

“I was wondering whether you’d be at the prom next week.”

“I was considering it.”

“Have you made yourself a gown?”

“Yes. Why?”

“What material have you used?”

“Silk.” Emma wondered what difference that made.

There seemed to be a sharp intake of breath before he sighed, “ Must see that. You wore a silk top on that broken night.”

“You’ll be at the prom?” A warmth started around her throat.

“The principal has kindly invited me.”

“But why phone me?”

Only a slight pause, before, “We have unfinished business, don’t we?”

Her heart was beating faster, “I don’t know what—”

“You know exactly what I mean, Emma. Will you be there?”

Nothing would keep her away now, but all she said was, “It’s possible.”

“Good,” he said, and the line closed.

Now, standing naked in front of the mirror, one hand still lingering over her bush. There could be no other interpretation of ‘unfinished business’. could there?

When Emma had started the college-aged eighteen, she heard of an obscure Mr Parsons, who had a big future in linguistics. She, being in design, their paths never crossed until, some two years into her course, someone pointed him out to her. Emma instantly thought him incredibly handsome.

Then, just when they had finally reached a stage of casual greeting whenever they met, Parsons, at the young age of 28, was awarded a professorship in linguistics.

Shortly after he gained the vice principal role at a major linguistics college, a hundred miles distant. Emma was devastated.

The prom night that year doubled as a farewell tribute to Professor Parsons. After asking her for a first dance, he had told her how pretty she looked in the yellow silk top with matching long skirt. Emma had felt stupidly shy.

Boldly handsome in his tux, he’d led her into a second dance. Emma’s heart had begun to pound. Breathing became difficult when, this time, he had held her close as they danced.

But it was during that third dance, with his hand caressing over her back through the silken top, Emma had felt his hardness pressing against her, his lips stroked lightly over her heated cheek, and the moistness started between her thighs.

When he whispered, “I think we should find somewhere a little more private, don’t you?” All Emma could do was numbly nod her head before being guided towards his office. One hand enclosed her left breast through the silken top.

The office door closed, they had kissed wildly, and Emma loved the way he clutched at her breasts. Longed for him to open her top if he really wanted them.

That was as far as they got, as a female voice sounded down the corridor, “Professor Parsons.”

Cursing, Chris had directed Emma towards a door on the left. Standing in that small washroom. Deflated, she recognized, the secretary’s voice, declaring that the Principal was waiting to make his presentation.

Emma heard Chris’s delaying attempt, followed by the secretary’s firm, “Now.”

Glumly, she’d heard the sound of two pairs of feet walking away. Glancing at her watch Emma saw that her father would be collecting her soon. Opportunity gone.

What other interpretation could she put on ‘unfinished business’? Emma turned away from the mirror and pulled on silk panties. Not her favourites but silk gown, silk panties. Why not?

With gently applied make-up, and her dark hair turned out seductively at her shoulder, she slid into the gown. The deep V at the back would enable her to reach the zip easily, without any mad contortions.

Excited, she savoured the sense of pleasure the sensuous silkiness of the material on her bare skin. No bra on this night. The way the deep narrow V neckline showed only a hint of her gentle twin curves pleased her.

As she left, her father had laughed, “Just as well I’m picking you up at eleven-thirty. You’ll need to escape the wolves.”

That did bother Emma a little. She had tried to talk him out of it, but his determination had been firm.

At eight-fifteen, Emma moved into the spacious college hall, where flocks of young ladies flounced in all manner of styled and coloured gowns, and young men looked uncomfortable in dinner jackets and black ties.

Emma had picked up the standard glass of punch, when her tutor, Maeve Richie, came dashing towards her, “I’ve been dying to see this gown.” She stood back to admire it “Oh, Emma, it is simply gorgeous.”

Other friends came to bubble their enthusiasm and admiration. But Emma’s eyes scanned the hall, for the first sight of Prof - no, Chris. Couples danced, and small groups chatted all around the hall. Had he changed his mind?

Just before nine o’clock, there was a tap on her shoulder. Turning, she found herself looking into that darkly handsome face that she hadn’t seen for almost two years, eyes so blue, dark hair cut short, and smile to lighten her heart.

“God, I knew you’d be special, but in that gown Wow.” His hand reached out and stroked over the silk on her hip.

Emma’s breath quickened at his touch, and she was shaken by how shy her voice sounded as she asked, “You really like it?”

His head shook in wonder, “The colour, the flair of the skirt. And oh, hell, it’s silk. Astounding. You are surely going places. Emma in silk. Wonderful.”

It was the immediate future Emma was interested in. Already there was dampness just as she had expected. Silk panties maybe not the best choice. “So, you like it?”

Chris reached for her hand, as he told her, “We need to be on the dance floor for you to know how much I like it.”

In his arms and drawn close against him, she gasped as she discovered his reaction to her gown. The hardness against her belly was unmistakable, and she just couldn’t resist saying, “Unfinished business?”

One hand smoothed along her hip, while the other stroked a line of silk just above her buttocks. His blue eyes were bright, as he said, “It is now urgent business since you are gorgeously covered.”

Vaguely aware of how her silkiness affected him, Emma had to tell him when her father was collecting her. He agreed that urgency was essential. Very quickly Emma had agreed to his hotel, which was only ten minutes away, and without delay, they were in his car.

Chris told her that this was not his usual style, “But unfinished business is unfinished. A promise remains.” When asked about other men, she told him of the student almost putting her off sex for life. He laughed, as he drove with one hand while the other stroked along the silk covering her thigh.

Emma’s eyes held on his handsome face, but his hand provoked further moistening, she glanced down at the swelling in his pants. Eagerly her hand moved to it, but before she could explore further, he pushed her hand away. “God, not yet,” he gasped, “You’ll have me driving into a ditch.”

Smiling, triumphantly, Emma sat back and relished his hand returning to her silken thigh. Reaching the hotel, and in the elevator up to the third floor, Emma knew she was so ready for whatever lay ahead.

Arriving on the third floor, they were out onto a quiet corridor. Releasing her, Chris produced a card, wafted it over a pad and they were inside a large smartly decorated room.

After only a quick glance around, Emma found herself pressed back against the wall, with their mouths active. Chris’s hands roamed over her curves under the silk burgundy material.

Now, with some determination, Emma found his pants zip and within seconds she had his hardness clutched in her hand, with her fingers stroking along it. Chris broke their kiss to growl, “Unfasten my belt.” Somehow, he had dropped his jacket away, and as she succeeded in undoing his belt she said, in return, “Unzip my gown.”

His response surprised her. “I want you to keep your gown on.”

“You like it that much?” she asked, only half-joking, as she pushed his pants and boxers down and he stepped out of them.

He looked directly into her face as Emma stroked along his hard cock and fingered his scrotum, and he asked, “May I ask you to do something special for me?”

Emma had a pretty fair idea of what he might ask and was just a little queasy since, she had only read about oral sex, had never experienced it. Now she felt a little more advanced in her thinking, and this was one way to gain some expertise. His request coming this early seemed somehow out of sequence. “How special?

She thought he looked a little uncertain as he said, “Will the skirt of your gown spread enough to allow you to bend or kneel?”

Here it comes, Emma thought, and tried to give him a gracious smile as she nodded her head, “I’m sure it will.” She flared out the skirt and slowly dropped to her knees, which was no great discomfort on the plush carpet.

Her movement brought her face close to his jutting erection and, fascinated, she gazed at the purple shining head and the little slit there. Her first real close-up and she awaited his instruction before proceeding.

That instruction, when it came, was not quite what she expected, “Hold it and wrap the edge of your skirt around it. Leave the head exposed. Can you manage that?”

Emma found her ardour cooling in the light of this strange request, but she struggled to feed the material of her gown around his cock. If that pleased him, fair enough. She held her fingers around the silk to hold it in place, and she was surprised by the delighted gasp that came from him, “Oh, yes, oh, my God, yes, yes.”

Momentarily, from the way he jerked in her hand she feared he would cum over her gown, but drawing in a deep breath, he hissed, “Lovely. Now lick my end and take as much as you can between your lips.”

She looked up into his face, wondering whether she should protest, but he was smiling, and nodding his head in encouragement, “Don’t worry. You’re pleasing me, keep your fingers rubbing the silk, but I’m in control.”

In control of me, Emma might have said, but feeling rather like an obedient slave, she leaned forward and, tentatively, placed the tip of her tongue on the shiny purple surface. His gentle moan encouraged her to make a bolder sweep of her tongue all around the head. That wasn’t so bad, she could take him between her lips, with her tongue still doing its job.

His moans increased as she jerked him a little while taking as much of his cock in her mouth as she could manage. He, seeming pleased, and whispered, “Suck. Please suck.”

Not much to suck, she thought, with her hand gripping the silk down his shaft. But his heavy breathing indicated that it was working. She was wondering how far this could be taken, he reached down with his hand, and said, “That was so good of you. Just scrub my cock with the silk.”

This was all so unexpected. Emma ran the loose silk along and around his cock. “Yes, oh, yes,” he gasped. “Okay, lovely, better release before I cum.” Placing her hand in his, she was pulled easily to her feet.

His mouth immediately fastened on hers again, and as their meshing tongues returned the expectant glow to her lower core, his hand moved slowly over her gowned breasts.

But it moved on down over her belly, and his fingers curled to press silk tightly, eagerly, along her waiting, oozing crease. Emma was instantly worried about her wetness showing through onto her gown.

But that was the moment that he clutched her waist in both hands and held her at arms-length, “Now you deserve some pleasure, and soon we will be really finishing the business. If you just go to the bed.”

Emma was only too pleased to do that. Moving forwards her hand reached back for her zip

“No, no,” he hissed. “Just lie on your back on the bed.”

“Don’t you want my gown off first?” She was desperate for the touch of his hands against her skin.

“No, no, the gown is you, and you are the gown.”

She frowned back at him, and had to say, “This seems so strange.”

“You’ll see,” he said, with a kindly smile, as his fingers unbuttoned his shirt. “You made the gown to fit your body. Together, you and the gown, are one entity of silk that I long to adore.”

So dubious as she climbed on the bed, and lay on her back, Emma watched him as he removed his shirt. Such a superb body, but he was going to be totally naked while she was gowned. Could anything be stranger?

Immediately, the answer was ‘yes’, as, naked, standing by the side of the bed, he asked, “Tell me, please, what kind of panties are you wearing?”

Even more puzzled, she told him, “Silk.” His eyes widened. Was that surprise? For a moment she thought it was delight on his face.

He stood above her, his blue eyes drifting slowly up her body, from toe to head.

“Oh, Emma, you are a delight. Your shapely body classically encased in your wonderful silk workmanship. The curves, the maroon—”

“It’s burgundy,” she corrected.

He smiled, and said, “Of course it is. Sheer magic. Do you see the effect you wearing that gown has upon me?”

Emma hardly needed to shift her gaze to take in the rock-solid pillar of his cock, which pointed at her.

“And that face,” Chris sighed, kneeling on the bed. “A face that has to be kissed and I must do the kissing.” And then he added, “Just flair out your skirt, as you did when you knelt for me.”

Emma, remained in a slightly bewildered state, as she lay back and positioned the skirt of her gown out wide on either side of her. This was, so far, not at all what she had expected.

Next moment, he was stretched out alongside her, leaning over her as his mouth found hers and they slipped easily into a passionate embrace. His hand was fondling her left breast through her gown. More surprisingly, having the silk manipulated against her skin was quietly tantalizing.

As their kissing became more frantic, she reached down to grasp his hardness once more, while his hand moved down from her breast to trace over the curve from waist to hip, and he broke the kiss to murmur, “Such a sensual gown.”

With her fingers roaming up and down his rigid member, Emma wondered whether he needed telling that she had skin that was equally sensual. She caught her breath as his hand traced over her flat belly and his fingers, for a second time, pushed the silk of her gown into the softness of her wet crease.

Don’t mark my gown, she was about to cry when both of his hands moved in unison to the top of her silk-covered thighs and began rubbing them up and down.

For Emma it was again, a pleasant sensation, having silk rubbed against her skin, but she wanted his skin on hers. Then she realised that, with each upward movement, Chris was, in fact, raising her skirt higher, gradually bunching it at her waist.

Heart beating faster, Emma wondered where this was leading. She knew that her whole lower body was on display, more definitely, when Chris, as he pushed the hem of the skirt to her waist, added pressure to part her thighs further.

Almost immediately, she was gasping as, for the first time Chris’s fingers seemed to be moving to her pussy. But her silk panties were in the way and as his fingers touched the silk-covered mound, she gasped, “Just pull them off.”

She was almost shocked when he said, “Sssh, they’re gorgeous”.

Yes, his fingers were moving, fluttering through her wet pink petals, from her clit back to the entry of her pussy, Yes, delightful sensations for her, except, his fingers were using her silken panties as cover.

When one finger pushed deep into her, he seemed to be savouring the silkiness of her panties he dragged with him. It was still an intoxicating feeling, and her hips gave an involuntary jerk. A hot intensity poured through her body.

Chris lowered his head towards her groin, but then he did something so surprising, so baffling to Emma that it momentarily checked her race to exquisite satisfaction. One hand was, of course, busily fingering her, through her panties, but now, the other hand reached up and pulled the hem of her skirt down over his head and over her thighs.

Emma wasn’t sure whether her sharp intake of breath was because of this action or own misled passion. Now she gave a solid breathless gasp as she became aware of the pressure of his tongue along her crease, only it was through her soaked panties. He was actually licking at her silken panties, and through them, could he be tasting her juices, as she heard his moans of deep pleasure?

She had to admit, even if this was beyond anything she might have expected, his licking was provoking extreme lascivious delight in her.

. Managing to raise her head slightly she confirmed that Chris’s head was cocooned under her skirt, there was only the unnatural sight of her burgundy gown bulging around his bobbing head.

His licking and sucking now concentrated on her clit and was quickly driving her into a frenzy that she had never experienced.

And, oh God, his head was bobbing so determinedly as his tongue raked back and Emma realized that her panties were now so saturated that Chris could not keep his tongue within the silken folds, so that, heaven be praised, she was now feeling tongue really raging at her clit. It was pure delight. All new to Emma but all too much, too much,

Frantically she hauled at her skirt, as her heartbeat echoed throughout her body and her passage pulsed on nothing, but pulsed so demandingly that she had to scream her need, “Chris! Oh, Chris! I want it, oh, quickly!.”

His reaction was delightfully prompt, as he raised himself and moved over her body murmuring, “You taste wonderful. So delicious through the magic of silk.”

Then his lips were on hers, and she was tasting her own juices, as she raised her hips to accept what his hand was presenting at her entry. The next second that magnificent shaft was travelling with hot robustness that overwhelmed her, up and up into her very core.

Emma heard the squealing before she realised it was coming from her own mouth which had jerked away from the kiss as her head tossed, her hips heaved, and her mind went away, lost in the sheer euphoria of his lovely organ which was filling her, so immense, so demanding.

Chris had plunged and plunged again deep into her, but in an instant when he paused, Emma found her own hips thrusting demandingly up at him, and she heard his chuckle as he growled, “I guess I’ve managed to get to you.” And without further comment, his lunges quickened, and despite her own rapture, she was aware of his heavy breathing becoming regular grunts.

As she allowed herself to slide into another ecstatically frantic state, Chris’s. body heaved, he gave a massive groan. Wrapped in her own frenzy, Emma was very aware of the jerking lunges as his cock expelled his seed to join her own juices. She gripped at him tightly, being transported to somewhere she had never been.

Coming slowly back to reality, she wondered if she would ever achieve such delights again, but instincts were already telling her that it wouldn’t be with Chris. In response to his single word question, “Good?” She nodded, and said, “Best ever,” which wasn’t really a big compliment.

They lay, side by side, catching their breaths, and Emma knew she just had to ask, “Chris, it was so good, but—” She hesitated, wanting to be discreet, “—apart from down there, you haven’t touched any part of my skin.”

He lay silent for a moment, then he sat up and looked down at her, “That is the sadness of it. I can desire you, as I did. But I can only get it up when the body is clothed in the finest of silks as you were. You felt so good.”

For Emma, there was little more to be said. As they dressed, their chat was subdued, knowing that it was all over. At quarter past eleven his car arrived outside the college. Chris leaned towards her, kissed her gently and said, “Finished business?”

Emma returned the kiss before agreeing, “Finished.” And she added, “But, oh, finished so well, and so differently.”

He smiled, kissed her one final time, before telling her, “I’ll be looking out for all your gowns in the best magazines.”

Sadly, Emma watched him drive away, and when her father collected her and asked, “Had a good night?” She could only reply, “Different,” before sitting back in the car and reliving the unknown joys and unexpected puzzles of the past two hours.