Diane added, “Oh, yeah.”
After the briefest of pauses, Bev said, “I don’t know. Could he try on the twill again, just to compare?”
I lost it then and started laughing. They were obviously enjoying themselves. If they wanted to watch, some little imp inside of me wanted to give them something to see. I turned and looked back over my shoulder at the mirror, so I could see the way the denim hugged my butt. I brushed a hand across it ever so slightly.
“I think these will do nicely,” I announced to the room at large. Then I turned to face them and trailed a hand down across my stomach until my thumb hooked into the waistband and my fingers just hovered over the buttons. “Do you think they fit?” I asked them. While my fingers drummed nonchalantly.
Diane repeated a breathy, “Oh, yeah.”
Brill cleared her throat and added, “Definitely.”
Bev just grinned with a very hungry looking glint in her eye.
M. Roubaille’s assistant on the other side of the couch just nodded. Her eyes were quite large and fixed on my fingers.
“Do you have something suitable in the way of a shirt, M. Roubaille?” I asked.
From the way he smiled, I got the impression that he enjoyed the performance much as I did—perhaps more. “I believe I do, M. Wang.”
He slipped a long sleeved selection in pale pink cotton up my arms and across my shoulders. It was not the smooth cotton I expected but a richly textured oxford cloth. “Pink?” I asked skeptically.
“Trust me. Few men have the ability to wear pink. You are one of them.”
I shrugged, slipped it on, and buttoned it, slipping the tails into my jeans. I felt the women’s eyes on me as I slid my hands down into my pants.
He had me stand still for a moment while he walked slowly around me, tugging and adjusting. He unbuttoned one extra button on my shirt. “You can get away with this,” he murmured with a sly wink.
I turned to face my audience again, letting the fingers of my right hand slide up to the collar of the shirt and then play across the exposed upper chest where the extra button was undone. “Do you think this makes me look too girly?”
The assistant standing behind the couch shook her head vigorously.
Diane cleared her throat before speaking. “Girly? Ah, no.”
Brill added, “If that’s girly then I’m on the wrong side of the fence.”
Bev just grinned some more.
He had me sit in the chair and handed me a pair of navy socks with padded toes and heels along with a pair of low boots. The boots were made from an amazingly supple leather with a soft café au lait color and a brushed finish that made them seem almost like a smooth suede. They slipped on easily and fit perfectly. I stood in them and stepped to the center of the room. They had just a bit more heel than I normally wore, but the extra two or three centimeters made me stand a little straighter.
“You need a jacket and a belt,” Roubaille said. “But how do you like this so far?”
I shook my head in admiration. “These are such simple clothes, but they fit so well they seem almost elegant.” Grinning I added, “But the real audience is over there.” I nodded to where Brill, Bev, and Diane were seated.
He smiled. “They seem to approve, Monsieur.”
“I have a belt, perhaps,” I offered. I stepped back into the changing room and pulled the boy toy belt from my pants on the chair. It had been made especially for me and held a sentimental value beyond the actual belt and buckle. The leather slid smoothly through the belt loops and the golden buckle with the black dragon head rode perfectly on my lower stomach.
“An excellent piece of workmanship,” M. Roubaille admitted. “And exactly the right touch of whimsy. Now, for the jacket.” He held open a coat for me to slide into.
I slipped my arms into it and he pulled it up across my shoulders. Again, he surprised me with both color and texture. The coat was made from a very narrow-wale, lightweight corduroy in an olive green. It was very close to a neutral color, but picked up the pink in the shirt and countered it beautifully. It was a double-breasted cut with wide lapels and a rounded collar like the old time sailor’s pea coats. It even had big, anchor-embossed black buttons. It was light enough that I could wear it around the station without getting overheated, but when I pulled it closed and tried the buttons, I could feel the warmth begin to build up. If I were ever stuck on the docks, this would certainly keep me warm enough.
“Ladies?” I asked. “Will this do?”
I displayed it for them, buttoning and unbuttoning the jacket. I could not resist and even slipped it off entirely and slung it over my shoulder for full effect. M. Roubaille suggested what he called a continental style where he just draped it around my shoulders allowing the sleeves to hang free. He also showed me how to release the cuffs and fold them back a bit allowing the shirt to show for a more casual look that was also very nice.
Brill asked, “Could we see some more shirts, M. Roubaille? He’ll need more than just the one.”
“But, of course, madam,” he said and brought out three other selections—a classic white oxford, a turtleneck jersey in a dark green that worked perfectly with the jacket, and a henley pullover with a simple rounded collar and five buttons at the top.
I took my time trying each of them on, enjoying being watched in an odd way.
Finally, M. Roubaille asked, “If there’s nothing else, may I have your purchases wrapped, Monsieur? Or do you wish to wear them?”
“Might I take a moment to consult with my friends?” As soon as he said the word purchases, a very panicky feeling washed over me. I did not know if I could afford this. What little I knew of fashion made me fear I was in way over my head.
“But of course.”
Brill, Bev, and Diane were all sitting there with very odd expressions and looking a bit flushed. “I’m sorry that took so long,” I said. “But what do you think of the outfit?”
Bev spoke first. “It’s you, Ish.” She sounded a bit breathless.
I took Brill aside and asked softly, “Are you okay, Brill? You look a little flushed.”
“I’m fine. Really.” Her smile looked shaky to me.
“Okay, well, how do I ask how much this is going to cost? I’m beginning to worry that I can’t really afford it. And I don’t wanna look like an idiot getting back into my old clothes.”
“You won’t look like an idiot. Just ask to see the statement. You can always pick a few pieces and leave the rest. He won’t think twice.”
I nodded and turned to Diane. “What do you think? Will these work?”
“I think so, but if you could just slip the jacket off and walk over there and back for me once?”
I did as she asked, pretending not to know they were watching my butt. When I turned, I found her and Beverly nodding at each other. “Yes, Ish. I think that works very well.”
“Very well, then, M. Roubaille, I think these will do. If I could see the statement?”
His assistant had a pleased little smile on her face as she presented me with the tablet displaying the accounting and then slipped back into the background while I consulted with Brill, Diane, and Beverly once more. The tab was two thousand two hundred and eight credits.
Diane gasped when she saw the amount. “Wow, I knew it was going to be steep but…”
“I can loan ya some if you need, Ish,” Bev offered in a lowered voice.
I looked to Brill. “Well, you really should keep the jacket. That’s only a kilocred and it is spectacular on you.”
I looked from one to the other before speaking. “No. The question is: how does this relate to clothing in general? I don’t buy clothes and I have no idea what a pair of jeans costs.”
Bev caught on first. “It’s about ten times what you would pay anywhere else, but you are never going to find clothes that fit that well ever again. I can help you if you’re short.”