“It’s seriously comfortable,” Paulie said as his boss stormed past. He flexed his very manly thighs, something that caught my eyes, as if to demonstrate.
“Now, Kira, I believe?” Those implacable green eyes came to rest on me and then slid down, taking in the well-worn state of my favourite t-shirt, my broken in jeans, and the Converse with the holes on the side in one long look. “You like this whole grunge thing, right?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it grunge.”
“Well, what do you call it? Young mum who’s just done the school run? Mid term university student living in a squat?” Marlow took a step forward, the dress and his tall frame entering my personal bubble at a rapid rate, but I didn’t step back, despite everything in me screaming that I should. He cocked his head slightly, his eyes heavily hooded as he kept me quiet and still with just his gaze. “Fairy tales are full of very nice little girls who get made over into princesses by their fairy godmothers. Well, sweetheart, that’s me. Destiny is calling, there’s a whole world out there, and it’s gonna see you looking fabulous.” His arm gestured to some mythical place I could almost see if I stared long enough. “But you are not going to the ball dressed as a hobo. Put the damn dress on. I’ve been dealing with divas all bloody day, and it’s only just gone ten am. If it looks horrible, if you really can’t bear to wear it, I’ll find something else.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the racks, as if it was no big deal.
“But, lovely, this dress is made for you. Nice arse, tiny waist, an embarrassment of riches in the tit department, and of course, enough wobble to make you unduly terrified of being seen and every man in the place wanting to bury his face in the place that’s softest and sweetest. This,” he thrust the dress in my face, “will accentuate what you think we want to see, and smooth what you think we don’t. The boning has some flex in it, so you’ll still be able to get into strange poses to take your shots. I particularly want to see it when you’re bending down.” His eyes slid over the soft cotton of my shirt. “We’ll tailor it to your height so you’re not in any danger of tripping over it, and I’ll even let you wear flats as a compromise. Deal?”
He held out a long-fingered hand, and I found myself taking it on automatic. The palm was pulled away and the dress thrust into my limp fingers before I had time to think. “Go now,” he said, patting me on the arse. “Show me further evidence of my sartorial genius.”
He collapsed down onto a couch, and intricate tattoos were revealed as he rested his arm above his head.
“He’s amazing, isn’t he?” Jen enthused, escorting me to the other room, her arm linked in mine. “You should see what he’s got for me to wear!”
Well, damn.
With the eternal ‘look at all sides’ shuffle that we women seemed to have to do when trying on a dress, I saw the fucking bastard was right. I admit, spending most of my time either traipsing around taking weird photos or hours touching the shots up in front of my Mac Pro, I didn’t spend a lot dressing up. Like ever. There was never a need, or rather, I didn’t see there as one. Tinder and dating was out. I’d known every guy in town since pre-school, which inspired more sisterly than romantic feelings. Jen tried to get me to go to the parties held at Rutherglen, but that was too much the other way. I saw many a gorgeous creature at those I had attended, but that just made me feel invisible. I saw them, but they didn’t see me, something I could only relieve when I got my camera out.
Well, that wouldn’t happen in this dress. Whether they wanted to or not, people would notice me, because it did everything Marlow had promised it would. My body looked lush, the green somehow accentuating that. The corset turned my normal curves into something almost obscene. I reached into the bodice, trying to push my tits down, but it wasn’t having any of that. There was barely enough room for what I had as it was. I huffed, letting out a long breath with my hands on my hips, and watched the weird juxtaposition between frustrated me and my now sex pot looking body in the mirror.
“Ki?” Jen asked, her voice muffled by the door.
Mirror me shook her head, a resigned expression on her face.
“Coming,” I said, and opened the door.
“Oh, Ki!”
Jen’s hands went to her face, her big blue eyes going wide, then shiny as she took me in. She took a deep breath in, no doubt a torrent of best friend reassurance coming my way, but the other door opposite mine opened.
Damnnn…
This dress was no longer a problem. I couldn’t feel it or my face as acres of lovely brown male flesh appeared in the doorway. Mark damned near filled it, the great mountain of a man, and I felt the need to ask for abseiling rope and those spiked shoes, because I wanted to climb every inch. I followed a lot of fitness models and photographers on Instagram because market research and everything, and that kind of lean, well-defined muscular body always seemed to have more in common with Ancient Greek art than real life men. Boys in Gisbourne drank beer and worked on cars, resulting in a much less godlike appearance. But gods didn’t stare at my tits like they were luscious fruit and he was dying for a taste…did they?
Jen’s smile widened as she took the both of us in, her gaze flicking from one to the other as the silence dragged on, and Mark’s abdomen flexed as his breath came more rapidly. It took a knowing chuckle from her to snap us out of the spell. Mark visibly shook himself, scraping his tawny brown hair back from his face, which just made the muscles along his ribs pop and his bicep look like it was as big as my head.
“You look lovely, miss,” he said finally, and it took me a whole lot longer to respond.
“Now, let me take a look. Twirl, both of you,” Marlow commanded from the couch. His smile was lazy as we strode forward. Well, Mark did. I shuffled, terrified I’d trip on the skirt of the dress.
“Mmm, I’m getting a distinct Outlander vibe here,” the man said, pointing a finger at Mark. “Like he’s all ready to spank you while calling you Sassenach.” Mark snorted at that, shooting Paulie a dark look when he started to laugh. “Alright, you two can retreat back into your off the rack disasters. I’m convinced this is the costume for them, yes?”
“Of course, darling,” Jen said, throwing herself down beside him.
“Very well, begone manly beasts. We’re all very appreciative of the time you’ve been doing CrossFit, but it’s the pièce de résistance now. Sweetheart, did I or did I not call it?”
“You did,” Jen said with a nod. “No one’s putting this Baby in the corner.”
“Well, they might, to have their wicked way with you or to hide you from the many, many suitors that will be flocking to your side.” Both Jen and Marlow’s eyes flicked to where Mark still stood, an almost inaudible grunt drawing their eyes. “Yes, love, this is it. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”
“You OK, boss?”
Mark shook his head when he noticed, turning quickly to leave the room with Paulie hot on his heels.
“I don’t need to be the belle, I need to take photos of the legitimate belles. How do I do that with…this out on display?”