doesn’t like women.’
‘Lira? Where did that come from?’
‘She said so.’
‘It’s just that I have a lover, a husband actually,’ Lira inserted.
‘Then why are you here with us?’ I didn’t believe her or I didn’t want to, and, even though I knew it was irrational, I was angry. ‘If you’re so content with this husband, why were you at Jack’s party without him?’ I didn’t like that they had been working together to manipulate me. And worse, I didn’t like that I had been so needy and that it had been so obvious.
‘I told Adam I’d help him find someone. He doesn’t like the bar scene. He’s quite picky and he picked you. We picked you,’ she said easily.
‘Why me? Because you figured I’d be easy prey?’
‘Because I like the way you wear your clothes, the loose fit of your trousers, the way they hang on your hips, the way your breasts push against the fabric of your blouse, the cut of your hair, the way it hugs your head accentuating your cheekbones.’ Adam watched me, his eyes on my face, as he spoke and then he took a sip from his coffee cup and was silent.
I wondered where he’d been when we were at Jack’s, how he’d been able to watch like that, without me seeing him.
‘I like that you fit just under my chin, that your body just slides into place. I could put my chin on top of your head without bending my knees – if you’d let me. Do you like anything about me?’
I didn’t even have to think about it. ‘The eggs are perfect,’ I said, looking directly at him so that he could see the honesty in my face and the limits I was setting. He laughed anyway. Lira pursed her lips.
‘Anything else?’ His voice was strong, the same dusty baritone, and there was no whine, but the words felt like need. I thought about it, running through the last few hours, beginning with his hand under Lira’s dress.
‘Lira says you like women,’ I offered.
‘I do,’ he confirmed.
‘I believe you,’ I said remembering how he’d stroked my clit to make sure I came before him and that he’d thought to bring me a robe afterwards. And that he hadn’t pressed his advantage when he was behind me. Not fully, not this time anyway. I sipped my juice and watched him eat. Lira leaned over and tore off a piece of his toast.
‘I liked the way you looked at Lira,’ he continued as though there hadn’t been a lull in the conversation. ‘As though you wanted to swallow her whole. It made me jealous and I had to have you. Now that I have, I find that I want to keep you. At least, for a bit.’
‘I’m not sure whether to be flattered or frightened.’
‘Flattered, definitely,’ he said, finishing his eggs.
Having eaten everything, I pushed my plate away, gathered my clothes into a manageable bundle and made my way to the guest bathroom I’d seen near the entryway. A few minutes later, I was fully clothed and ready to say my farewells. I figured I would shower when I got home. When I came out of the bathroom, Lira rose from her cushions to stand before me. She leaned down, pressed her lips to mine and slid the pointed end of her little tongue along the length of my lower lip.
‘I like you. I really do, but this thing with Charlie is new. It’s like I told Adam, I want to try it out the traditional way, but I can be here for you on occasion. If that’s what you want. Adam likes you.’ She pouted.
‘I’m happy for you.’ I slipped around her and extended my hand to Adam. ‘Nice to meet you.’ He took it in both of his.
‘Encantado,’ he said as he brought the palm of my hand up to his lips. His riposte and the crinkle of skin around his eyes showed that he appreciated the irony of our farewell. Then he pulled a business card from his robe pocket and tucked it into my pants pocket. ‘So you can contact me if you change your mind or if you have need of anything.’ His eyes tried to snare mine, the end of his lips curved upwards.
I nodded, refusing the connection, and extracted my hand from his. He shrugged in the European way as I made my way to and through the door without even looking back at Lira.
Once I had exited the elevator and walked the length of the red carpet to the main entrance, I dropped the card into an ornate stone ashtray that stood next to the doorman’s post. The uniform-clad black man hastily tossed and crushed the burning butt of his cigarette beneath the toe of his patent-leather shoe. He smiled up at me, but his eyes were weary beneath the hard lip of his military-styled cap. ‘Good evening, ma’m,’ he said as his hand rose to the brim of his hat and he tipped it up without it ever leaving his head. I smiled back and asked him to hail me a cab. A shrill whistle and a yellow cab appeared at the curb just as the pewter sky began to lighten. I slid a couple of dollars into the brown palm that held open the door before settling comfortably onto the cracked faux-leather seat.
‘Tighter,’ Juliette said.
Sophie pulled, tugged on the ribbon and tied a bow. The stays had created a tiny waist for Juliette and the effect was stunning. They stood next to each other, the two women, the mirror confirming Juliette’s silhouette. It was a true hourglass. The burgundy crushed velvet of the gothic dress fell in waves over her hips. Her breasts were just contained by the bodice. Juliette twisted left then right, smoothing the fabric over her stomach. She gave a tiny smile; knowing, self-aware, pleased with how she looked. She turned to Sophie, who could feel the heat of the other woman’s breath on her cheek.
‘Tighter still.’
Sophie undid the bow and tugged again, pressing her knee into Juliette’s back, unsure how much tinier she could force her waist to be. But Sophie was acquiescent; aware women like Juliette were her customers. They employed her. She remained in the shadows. They came to her because it was their time, their big day ahead. Their expectations were that she could transform them. She had an excellent reputation and her job was to help them feel wonderful. And it was a job she loved. Women were her forte. Some allowed her to caress them, making them feel special, and she felt tantalised by these brides to be, their skin glowing, their eyes shining. Some were naïve, others much more knowing. Rarely did she feel able to take things further. She had to save that for herself, or in the clubs, sweaty and hot. Not the most conducive environment for a woman with her needs.
This was the final fitting, and also the last appointment of the day. The front door was locked; their outlines would only be faintly visible through the frosted windows. Sophie was jaded, her eyes sore from concentrating on details. Once Juliette left her studio she would never see her again. They would revert to being strangers. She was going to lose her. Sophie felt a dull ache around her heart. And moistness between her thighs. She had been drawn to Juliette from the moment she stepped through the studio door, breathless, all in black.
‘I want something dark,’ she’d said, throwing her bag to the floor. ‘Something gothic.’ And Sophie had agreed. It would suit her. She suggested purple first, then they settled on a deep burgundy.
