The Dressmaker, My Mother, and the Strapless Dress

Carla hung up the phone with a little hop that made the old boards of the landing creak. Diego had just invited her to the end-of-year party and, for the first time in months, she felt that the last week of school was going to end with something worth remembering.

—Mom! —she shouted, taking the stairs two at a time—. Guess who just asked me out!

Lucía, her mother, was folding towels on the sofa. She lifted an eyebrow with that ironic smile she always put on when she wanted to needle her.

—Let me think. Mateo, the math guy?

—No, Mom. Diego —Carla replied with a theatrical sigh—. Diego, the one from the village, the one who plays guitar, the one you say looks like he’s never read a book in his life.

—That one. —Lucía shrugged with false innocence—. Well then, congratulations, darling. And what are you planning to wear?

That was precisely the question. Carla sat on the arm of the sofa and twisted a strand of hair around her fingers.

—I need a dress. A pretty one, Mom. Seriously. Diego and three other boys are going to rent a car and they want us all to go together.

—Tomorrow we’ll go see Mariela —her mother cut in before she could finish—. I haven’t seen her in ages, and her boutique is still the best around. She’ll surely give us a discount.

Carla nodded and ran back upstairs. That night she barely slept.

***

Mariela’s boutique was at the end of a narrow street in the old quarter, between a secondhand bookstore and a sewing notions shop that smelled of camphor. From the outside it didn’t look like much: a dark wooden door and a window with two mannequins dressed for a winter wedding. Inside, it was another story.

—Lucía, at last you show your face! —Mariela appeared between two racks with a huge smile—. How many years has it been, seven, eight?

—Too many —her mother replied, giving her two loud kisses—. Do you remember Carla?

Mariela turned to her and looked her up and down without rushing. Carla, who was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, suddenly felt as though she were walking into an empty swimming pool.

—The last time I saw her she had pigtails and was missing a tooth —Mariela said, offering her a hand—. Look what you’ve turned into. Lovely.

—Thank you, ma’am —Carla answered, looking down.

—Mariela, please. Ma’am makes me feel old, and I’m not ready for that yet.

Lucía laughed and explained about the dance, the special dress, the final year. Mariela listened, nodding, and when she finished, she looked Carla straight in the eye.

—What are you thinking, darling? Tell me without being shy. If you don’t tell me, I won’t guess.

Carla searched for her mother’s silent approval before speaking.

—Something strapless. With the shoulders showing.

—Good girl. A woman who knows what she wants. This way.

Mariela led them to the back of the shop, where a tall rack held evening dresses packed together like petals on the same flower. She pulled out three, discarded them, pulled out two more, and finally chose a white one with a black sash at the waist, covered in tiny embroidery that looked like spiders spinning webs.

—This one —she said, holding it up—. There isn’t another like it in the whole province. Try it on.

Carla looked around, searching for the fitting room.

—No need. I’ll lock the front door and you can change right here. It’s just us three, family style.

Before she could protest, her mother nodded. Mariela was already at the door sliding the bolt.

***

Carla undid her jeans with clumsy fingers. The T-shirt fell to the floor, the pants followed it. She was left in panties and bra, feeling more exposed than she had expected, and began taking the dress off the hanger.

Mariela came back at that moment and stopped short.

—Wait, wait. That won’t work. It’s a strapless dress. With the bra on we can’t judge anything. Take it off, go on.

Carla opened her mouth to say something, but her mother beat her to it.

—She’s right, Carla. What were you thinking? Take it off and stop being fussy.

She felt the heat rising up her neck. She reached behind her back, unclasped the fastening, and let the garment slide down her arms to the floor. When she straightened up, her tits were bare in front of the two older women, her nipples already hard from the cool air and from something else Carla didn’t want to name.

Mariela gave a low whistle, almost a whisper.

—Goodness, Lucía. Your daughter has beautiful tits. And look at those nipples, pink, full, begging for a mouth. Where does she get that from?

—From my mother —Lucía replied naturally—. In my family we’re all like that. Big, pale nipples, always ready. Mine go hard for nothing.

—I can see that. —Mariela took a step toward Carla, just enough for her to catch the scent of jasmine perfume—. May I ask you something personal, darling?

—Y-yes.

—This boy who’s taking you to the dance. Diego, right? —Mariela reached out and, without warning, brushed the curve of Carla’s right breast with her fingertips, then pinched the nipple between thumb and forefinger and squeezed with a calm firmness that drew a gasp from Carla—. He’s a boy. And boys, in the car, after the dance, try to get a hand under the dress. Do you want him to find the cotton panties and bra you’re wearing today when he does? Or do you want his jaw to hit the floor?

Carla clenched her thighs without being able to help it. She felt Mariela’s hand continue stroking her with a slow, almost absent rhythm, as if checking the texture of an expensive fabric, while the thumb kept tracing damp circles around the nipple.

—I-I don’t know. Mom, what do you...?

—Mariela’s right —Lucía said without looking away—. Diego isn’t going to stop at your hands, Carla. He’s going to take your dress off completely, suck your tits, and put his cock wherever he feels like. If you go wearing the lingerie you’ve got on, you’ll ruin the moment.

Mariela nodded as if the conversation were settled.

—Before the dress itself, we need to deal with what’s underneath. Take off your panties.

She didn’t have time to answer. Mariela hooked her thumbs under the elastic and pulled down in one motion. Carla was left completely naked in the middle of the shop, the cool air raising gooseflesh on her stomach and a warm wetness sliding down the inside of her thigh that she didn’t even dare look at.

***

Mariela stepped back, tilted her head, and furrowed her brow with the expression of a seamstress who has discovered a flaw in a stitch.

—Lucía, look at this. Look at the pussy she’s got here.

Her mother came closer. Carla wanted to close her legs, but Mariela stopped her with a hand laid gently on her thigh and then, without changing her expression, slowly opened them until she was fully exposed.

—She’s got too much hair —Mariela said calmly, running a finger through the thick hair covering her pussy and down to brush the already swollen lips—. And she’s going to wear the smallest panty we have in the shop. That won’t do. If Diego lowers his head to eat her pussy, the hair will get stuck in his teeth. She needs shaving.

—Now? —Lucía asked, her voice a little rougher than usual.

—Now. I’ve got new blades in the bathroom. I shave myself every month. The mouth that eats it will thank you, trust me. A smooth pussy is better to lick and better to fuck.

Carla’s face burned. She wanted to protest, but something in Mariela’s voice —calm, technical, almost maternal— took the words away. Her mother wasn’t even looking at her face anymore. She was looking between her legs, the tip of her tongue barely showing at the corner of her mouth.

—Come on.

***

The bathroom was at the back, behind a bead curtain that tinkled when they went through. It was small, with a large mirror and a folding chair leaning against the wall. Mariela opened it in the center and tapped the seat.

—Sit down. Open your legs wide. The wider they are, the better I can leave your pussy.

Carla obeyed. She sat naked on the cold chair and spread her knees until her sex was fully open under the yellow light. Mariela filled a bowl with warm water, soaked a sponge, and knelt between her legs. The sponge passed over the hair with a soft, patient heat that made her let out a sigh far too long for the silence it fell into. The dressmaker ran an open hand over her pubis, pushing the water toward the lips, letting it drip slowly toward her ass. Every touch sent a jolt straight to the tips of her nipples.

Mariela lifted her eyes to hers and smiled.

—You’re very wet, darling. And it’s not just the water. Look. —She slipped her index finger between the lips and drew it out shining, lifting it to the light so Carla could see it clearly—. You did this all by yourself. Do you realize? It’s running down the insides of your thighs.

Carla didn’t answer. Lucía, who had followed them to the doorway and was leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, smiled too, and the free hand she had dropped to the waistband of her trousers slipped inside without any pretense.

—You don’t need to be ashamed —her mother said—. It happens to all of us. I’m getting my pussy soaked just from looking too.

—Your daughter needs a bit more than a shave —Mariela said without taking her eyes off Carla’s open sex—. What do you think?

—I think you know what you’re doing. Eat her pussy, Mariela. I’ll stay and watch you make her scream.

This isn’t happening, Carla thought. This cannot be happening to me.

And before she could finish the thought, Mariela lowered her head and put her mouth on her.

***

It was such a sudden shock that Carla let out a sharp cry and gripped the edge of the chair with both hands, her knuckles white. Mariela’s tongue traced slow, deliberate circles, not touching the clit yet. She started with the outer folds, moving over them with a patience that seemed cruel, sucking each lip separately, taking them into her mouth and releasing them with a small wet click. She went down to the entrance of Carla’s pussy and pushed the tip of her tongue in a centimeter, pulled it back out, pushed in again, until Carla was already moving her hips forward without asking permission.

Only then did she move up and attack the clit.

—Jesus Christ —Carla muttered hoarsely—. Jesus Christ, Mom, Mom she’s...

—She’s eating your pussy the way God intended —Lucía finished—. Let her do it right. Hold on and watch.

Carla opened her eyes and saw that her mother had her hand sunk into her panties up to the wrist. She was rubbing herself openly, moving her arm in a long rhythm, her eyes fixed on Mariela’s mouth working between her daughter’s legs. She had bitten her lower lip and was breathing loudly through her nose.

—Suck her well —Lucía said in a tone Carla had never heard from her—. Put two fingers in her, let her learn once and for all what good fucking is.

Mariela obeyed. She answered with a muffled moan against Carla’s sex, lifted one hand, and slid two fingers in at once. Carla arched her whole back and the cry burst from her without control. The fingers went all the way in, curved, searching for a point Carla hadn’t known existed, while the tongue kept punishing her clit with short, rapid licks. She held Carla’s right thigh with her elbow, keeping her open without letting her close, and every time she withdrew her fingers they gleamed with a thick thread that fell onto the tile.

—Like that, like that, like that —Carla panted, not recognizing her own voice—. Don’t stop, please, please don’t stop, I’m...

—Come in my mouth —Mariela said, lifting her face for a second, her chin shining all the way to her neck—. Come on me, darling. I want to swallow it.

She went back down and sucked the clit directly, without detours, with two fingers pounding inside. Carla felt the tingling begin in her calves, climb up her thighs, settle in her lower belly like an electric current growing and growing without finding an outlet, until it burst.

—Oh, oh, oh, I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming!

Her hips lifted off the chair on their own, pushing her pussy against Mariela’s face, and the orgasm tore through her with an intensity that left her trembling several seconds later, with her thighs clenched around the dressmaker’s head and her breath coming in ragged gasps. Mariela’s fingers were still inside, moving slowly, milking every contraction. When she finally pulled them out, they made a wet sound that Carla heard over her own panting.

From the doorway, Lucía let out a cry of her own, sharp, strangled. Carla turned her head just in time to see her mother clench her thighs around the hand buried in her panties, bite the back of the other hand to keep from crying out louder, and remain trembling against the wooden frame with her eyes closed. Her mother had just come standing up, while looking at her.

***

There was a long silence, broken only by three breaths searching for a way back to normal. Mariela slowly straightened up, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand —then sucked the fingers she’d had inside Carla one by one, without looking away—, and looked at Lucía as if asking permission to speak.

—I don’t want to sound like what I am —she said with a crooked smile—, but I’m also impossibly horny.

Without waiting for an answer, she yanked off her skirt and panties. She sat down in the chair in the place Carla had just vacated, opened her legs all the way, and brought two fingers to her sex to spread it with her thumb and middle finger. It was so swollen it looked like a flower opening against the light, shining under the yellow bathroom lamp, with the clit sticking out hard as a pearl.

—Mom... —Carla began.

—Go —Lucía replied before she could finish—. Go and return the favor. You’ve left her face dripping, now it’s your turn. From today on there’s no shame in this family. Eat her pussy the way yours was eaten.

Carla knelt in front of Mariela. She had never done this, didn’t know where to start, didn’t know whether she would taste good or bad or like nothing at all. But the scent of jasmine mixed with something else, more intimate, denser, almost salty, rose into her nose and took her fear away at once. She leaned in and pressed her mouth to it first with closed lips, an awkward kiss on the lips of Mariela’s sex. Mariela shuddered all over and shoved her face with her open palm.

—Stick out your tongue. Open it and put your tongue in me.

The rest came by itself. Carla parted Mariela’s lips with the tip of her tongue, moved up slowly and found a hard spot the dressmaker was pressing against her with her hips. She latched onto that spot and sucked it like a small candy, and Mariela let out a moan so long Carla thought for a second she was hurting her. She wasn’t. In three minutes she learned what she had spent years imagining without knowing it. How to curl her tongue around the clit. How to drop down now and then to lick the entrance and drink what came out. How to slip a finger in, then another, searching for the same point Mariela had searched for in her.

—That’s it, girl, that’s it, fuck, that’s it —Mariela growled, both hands clutching the hair at the back of Carla’s neck, setting the rhythm, pushing her face against her pussy every time Carla tried to breathe—. Don’t stop, suck me there, there, put your fingers all the way in, yes, there...

Her mother had come closer. She was standing beside the chair, one hand once again buried in her unbuttoned trousers. Watching them.

—You’re going to make her come, Carla —Lucía said quietly, almost in her daughter’s ear, while the other hand went down and caressed her bare back, her ass cheek, and slipped between her buttocks to touch her sex from behind—. Her face is turning red. A little more, a little faster with your tongue.

Carla obeyed. She sped up her tongue and curled her fingers upward harder. Mariela went rigid in the chair, clenched her thighs around Carla’s head the same way Carla had clenched hers around Mariela’s, and came with a long cry that bounced off the tiles. Carla felt the dressmaker’s pussy contract around her fingers, felt a warm stream wet her chin and run down her neck. She didn’t move her mouth away. She sucked until the end, until Mariela gently pushed at her forehead to make her let go.

Lucía, still beside her, took the cry as if she herself had just finished. She pulled her hand from her trousers, shining, and without thinking wiped it by passing it over her daughter’s open lips.

—Here. Taste your mother too.

Carla sucked Lucía’s fingers without taking her eyes off hers. They tasted different from Mariela’s, softer, sweeter. She swallowed them whole.

***

Twenty minutes later, with her pussy smooth as Mariela had asked —shaved with a blade in a patience that was almost a second session, the dressmaker running the razor close to her skin and then cleaning her with a warm towel that left Carla trembling again— and her cheeks red enough to take hours to fade, Carla tried on the dress again. It fit perfectly. Mariela circled her, adjusted a fold at the hip, marked two tiny stitches at the neckline with a pin, and in the final step pinched her nipple through the fabric just to see her jump.

—There. Diego’s going to lose his mind. And it won’t be because of the dress.

Carla laughed despite herself. Her mother was looking at her from the other side of the shop with a new expression, not exactly maternal, not exactly complicit, but something in between. A smile Carla would take a while to decipher.

—You know what I like about your shop, Mariela? —Carla said, adjusting the hem.

—What do you like, darling?

—That it’s a full-service shop.

Mariela burst out laughing, making the bracelets on her wrists tremble.

—I’ll write that down. And listen, I’m offering you something. One day a week, after class, you come and help me in the shop. I’ve got very specific clientele, women like us, and some of them could use a young fitting-room girl with a quick tongue. I’ll pay you well. The dress, of course, is free.

Lucía raised an eyebrow. Carla glanced at her sidelong, waiting.

—Whenever she wants —her mother replied—. But the rest of the days, the service is mine at home. And tonight I’m starting, as soon as we get there.

The three of them laughed at the same time. Mariela opened the door for them, slid back the bolt, and the street of the old quarter came in again with its smell of camphor and fresh bread, as if nothing had happened.

Carla left with the dress bag over her shoulder, still walking carefully, still feeling liquid inside, the freshly shaved pussy brushing her new panties with every step. Diego, she thought, was going to have to work very hard to live up to the night that had already begun without him.