Peter likes to watch Lydia dress, especially when she’s fucked out, slick with sweat and cum, but he likes the ritual of it, the bend and drag of stockings up her calves and around her plump thighs, the smell of her, chanel no5 and sex, and those tiny skirts flashing that strip of skin marked with his teeth, and she likes to dress for him, the layers of beautiful lingerie – that she makes him pay for – because she likes the weight of his gaze