~Hermes ~

The door opens, and I lose every coherent thought in my head.

What the fuck is she wearing?

It sticks to her like it was sewn on. The neckline's loose, draped low — too low — and the straps are so thin they look like they’d snap if someone breathed on her too hard. The hem barely makes it to mid-thigh. I can see the outline of her legs, her hips, the soft pull of fabric over her waist.

I stare, and I can’t stop.

Because it's that exact dress.

I didn’t really see it ...