A distraction is a fascination to an inappropriate attraction.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

[Sunday, June 13th (Day 378)]
[Noon, The Sacred Whore]

Ah, boredom.  My old friend.

It's slow, even for a Sunday, and by the time I've finished with all the little tasks that must be done - sweeping, dusting, reordering the clothing racks, and tidying the displays - only a few hours have passed.  And there's nothing left to do.  It's times like these that having the two assistants is more a burden than a boon, and I actually toss Winnie a look when she moves past.  

I throw some money at them and send them away.  Buy something, go take a nap, I don't care, just go.

I'm minded to flip the sign to closed after that, as everyone else has the good sense not to be open on a Sunday, but I don't.  Anything could happen, anyone could show, anyone at all...  I keep the bedroom door open, to listen for the bell, as I move back to change.  It's humid today and I'm not dressed for it, I've suddenly realized.  And my other shirt was a little dirty, from the cleaning.  Yes.

In a moment, though, I'm back to sitting on the counter, glancing around the shop and near-to-tears with nothing to do.  It's ridiculous I know, but with three of us here all the time, and two so hard-pressed to be busy little worker bees, there doesn't seem enough activity to go around.  That's it, that's the rub - they are just bothersome, underfoot and annoying.    If a customer came in they'd both be sure to just run over, before I even had the chance to give a go.  Start a conversation.  Maybe have some lunch.  Socialize. 

Hmph.

And you think they could have left me a bit of alteration to do in the meantime, something, to break up all this waiting.  All this god-awful wanting (nagging) to go do something foolish.  Like I even need any more supplies.  

Though I wonder if the General Store is even open on Sundays.

[Open to Jane]
[Continued http://estdeus-innobis.livejournal.com/446918.html]
[And there is sexy time...]

Comments

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

He steps away from me, still smirking. I really don't think he has any other expressions. After a moment i follow him over to the dresses, keeping the rack between us. I don't even know how to wear some of these. Draping a sari has to be easier.

Dorian peers at me over the clothes, asking about my preferences in the most condescending way imaginable. "My mother says I look good in green," I mutter. "I don't like green. I like red and yellow and dark blue." Even telling him about my favorite colors feels like opening a door he's bound to insinuate himself through. "And I want to make an impression on-on someone."

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

"My mother says I look good in green." I listen, of course, but once she's actually being useful there's no real reason (at the moment) to look her way. I rummage through the dresses instead, not looking for anything in particular but looking all the same. "I don't like green. I like red and yellow and dark blue."

"Nothing green, then," I say before glancing up. "It makes this whole ordeal pointless, doesn't it? If you don't walk away with an impractical little something that'll probably annoy your mother?"

"And I want to make an impression on-on someone." Hmm. But I expected as much. The Sacred Whore isn't a place most people come to regularly. There's most often a reason behind it.

"In that case, no red. It's too obvious." I move to the other side of the clothing rack and give her another glance over on the way past. Yes, I may have something in mind, the rough sketch of an idea at least. "You don't want to seem desperate, do you?" Of course not. "A darker blue would suit you, but not in June."

I wonder, idly, who has caught her eye. I'll find out eventually, I'm sure, so it's not the most nagging curiosity. Yet. "So yellow it is. Now exactly how short is not too short? As you can imagine, we may have different ideas on that." Not that I wouldn't love to see her face as she walked out of the dressing room in a thin babydoll number.

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

I don't think my mother is ever going to see me wear this dress, but I don't correct him. He's more or less grasped the idea. And I'm almost glad he turns down red. I got married in red.

I'm not desperate, not the way he thinks. Not desperate for Jamie. I am desperate to get some kind of a hold on my life again, though. I'm tired of things happening to me. Weddings and babies are all very well if you decide on them, but I didn't. I can certainly decide about dresses, though, and Dorian is going to help me, one way or another. "Above the knee," I tell him when he asks about length. "But not too much. I want--I want something that says I'm not just the pie girl, all right?"

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

"Above the knee," she says, which is just about right for what I would have guessed. It's a good length, at least. Something I can work with. "But not too much. I want--I want something that says I'm not just the pie girl, all right?" That's a sentiment I can at least understand, no matter that I've never been there myself.

"All right," I say after a long moment looking at her, gauging her really, before I toss what few things I've managed to find over my shoulder and start towards the back of the shop. Not just the pie girl, indeed. Well, that at least I can do. "Go on, then. Into the dressing room and take off your clothes." Though I could wish that she followed direction a little better. "I'm going to hand you things to try on."

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

It seems that he approves of what I've said, because he starts gathering up clothes like he's picking fruit. He does own everything, but really, it's very careless. Once he has an armful, he just stares at me, and I can see ideas clicking together in his brain. It's a very uncomfortable thing to watch, so I stare right back, clicking together things about him as well.

He's very, well, very. Everything about him. He's very tall and very thin and his cheekbones and chin are very sharp. His eyes are very pale and very bored and lazy. His suit fits him very well. All of him is very beautiful, though I wish he would stop being so rude. He practically orders me into the dressing room, but I go, because it's where I want to go anyway.

When I'm down to my camisole and kachera, I hold my hand out through the curtain. "I'm ready. Don't you dare come in here, though, or you can't have any pie."

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

I fetch my tailoring supplies from the back room and when I return it's just in time to see Jane hold her hand out through the curtain. "I'm ready. Don't you dare come in here, though, or you can't have any pie." I laugh at that. We're beyond any sort of self-control that would keep me from it. Besides, she's already undressed, and much less likely to storm out. "Best behavior, I promise." As though that's saying anything.

The first dress (http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v40/risen_one/excolo/?action=view&current=yellowsundressrufflespintuckslacehem1.jpg) I hand over is the shortest of the lot, a sheer sort of yellow cotton with a low neckline and a lace border around the bottom. It is, of course, the sort of thing she'd be terrified to walk out of the shop in. Which is the point.

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

I can hear him laughing through the curtain, and I think it would be a nice laugh if it weren't at me. I'm not sure how much his promise of good behavior is worth, either.

He passes me a dress, an insubstantial lacy thing. I hold it out at arm's length and stare at it. It's the kind of thing wispy little girls like Tiffany go around in on market day. I, on the other hand, have had too much in the way of chest since I was thirteen, coupled with hips my mother is sure will carry dozens of her grandchildren.

I thrust the dress back out at him. "No." He cannot actually make me put the thing on, after all. "You'll have to do better than that, Dorian."

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

Almost as soon as I pass her the dress she's holding it back out. So much for an adventurous spirit. "No. You'll have to do better than that, Dorian." I raise an eyebrow, no matter that she can't see it, and give a quick glance under the curtain. Hmph.

"All right, one moment," I say, leaving her still holding out the dress. Her clothes are on the floor at her feet and it's nothing to reach under to grab them, already standing again by the time she can realize what I've done. "You can stay in there all afternoon, if you like. Or you can try on the dress." It won't suit her, I know that already. But that's not why I want her to try it on.

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

He agrees, and I relax a little. The next dress can't possibly be worse. What happens next is, though. A long, pale arm shoots under the curtain and grabs up my clothes. I snatch at them, but he's quicker than I am.

I grit my teeth, unwilling to let him hear my frustration. Once I've composed myself, I gather the curtain around myself and poke my head out. "Dorian." I make sure my best smile for the worst customers in firmly in place. "Are you trying to humiliate me?" I think I could teach him a thing or two about selling things.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

"Dorian. Are you trying to humiliate me?" The look on her face is just priceless. My own smile is as close to innocent as I can possibly manage, standing just out of her reach with her clothes in my arms.

"Oh, Jane. If I were trying to humiliate you, it'd be a bit more obvious." And by God it would. "I'm trying to do my job, which sometimes involves dramatic intervention." I set her clothes on the counter and come back, arms crossed. "If transformation were easy, everyone would do it. Now if you want to stay 'just the pie girl', I'll give you your clothes back and you can be on your way. If not, stop being so damn stubborn and just try on the dress."

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

He drops my clothes on the counter, talking at me all the while in that infuriating drawl. I can feel myself getting angrier by the second. "Whether or not you're trying to, you have," I spit at him.

Giving up on propriety all together, I sweep the curtain aside and march over to him, crossing my arms and glaring up at him. "I'm already not just the pie girl, and if you can't see that, then you're blind and stupid as well as being an enormous ass." I don't make a habit of swearing, but really, he's being dreadful.

"That dress won't fit me, and both of us know it." I stop for breath, suddenly aware of how little I'm wearing. Well, I've gone this far. No sense in stopping now. "Stop being so damn stubborn and take my measurements if you have to. That's your job."

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

I look down at her, standing there as she is in (what say may stoop to call) her underwear. "No. The dress will fit you just fine. Will it suit you? Probably not, but that wasn't the point of all of this." Uh, I really hate having to explain myself. But it's not as though she looks due for any miraculous insight just now.

"You see, the dress I want to send you home with is something you never would have chosen for yourself. It would have made you uncomfortable, no matter what you said about wanting to try something new, and you would have left without it." I slip past her to the dressing room and pick up the discarded dress from the floor. "This dress, while trust me it's your size, is too short. The neckline is too low. You would have put it on and been appalled, vowing never to set foot from the dressing room in it... Which, as I said, was the point."

She's still just standing there when I return, slip of a dress over my arm. "So that, by comparison, the dress you should be wearing wouldn't seem that terrifying at all." It's quite like saving a drowning person, this fashion business; they all need to flail and fight before they let you help. "And I don't need to measure you, I know your measurements just fine." My smirk creeps back to my face, for all the seriousness of before, as the conversation turns. Not that I can see too much, with what she's wearing, but... "I may be an ass, but I'm not stupid." I give her a once over. "And I'm sure as hell not blind."

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

He gives me a long and patronizing speech about how it was really a good and sensible thing he was doing, even going so far as to pick the dress up and bring it back to me. I stay right where I am and fume, trying to ignore the warm air on my bare arms and legs.

His eyes as he finishes tell me he's not ignoring anything. I can feel my face getting hot as he looks me over, but I'm still far more angry than I am embarrassed. "So this has all been a-a manipulation, just to get me to pick the dress you want?"

I can't believe anyone in their right mind would do something so convoluted and rude to someone to whom they were trying to sell something. "That'd be like me giving out free samples of a pie I'd overspiced and then begging people to try the plain ones in hopes that they'd buy those."

He is stupid. "Just give me the dress you think will suit me and...and whatever I need to wear under it." I can just see his opinion of my underwear forming behind his eyes, and I don't want to hear it.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

I roll my eyes. "Everything's manipulation, Jane, you're only upset because you haven't figured that out yet." Honestly. But she wants the dress, fine by me. This'll get old soon, I imagine, so it's best to move it on towards it's natural conclusion.

Though I still don't understand why people can't see it's the journey that's all the fun.

The dress (http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v40/risen_one/excolo/mishka-designs-dress.jpg) I had in mind is hanging near the counter where I left it and I take the time to swing by the lingerie section before returning, dress is one hand and bra and panty set in the other. The bottoms she's wearing now are almost as long as the dress and it's not as though the top is doing any great favors. Hopefully she'll get the point.

"Here you are," I say, polite as can be, before handing it all over. "Don't beat yourself up too much, when you realize I was right." At that I just move away, putting the first dress back on the rack and tidying a bit while I wait for her to change.

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

He hands over a dress the color of daffodils and the nicest underwear I've ever seen. "Thank you," I tell him very primly and retreat to the dressing room. It takes me a little time to work out how it all stays up, but once I have it on and have taken a good look in the mirror, I'm quite pleased. It is a nice dress, comfortable but trim, flirtatious without seeming garish. I imagine it will take me some time to get used to showing this much of my shoulders and back, but I'm sure I'll manage.

Steeling myself, I pull the curtain aside and step out, turning slowly in front of him. "What do you think?" I can't manage to sound indifferent, but I can at least hide my pleasure at the success of the outfit.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

I turn from the folding I've busied myself with and smile. "I think that I'm a genius, obviously." I move over to where she's standing and do a quick walk around, just to make sure everything fits properly. And it does, of course. "You want to make an impression, this is how you do it."

We're not done yet, though, not nearly. I motion for her to wait as I collect a pair of sandals, a knitted shoulder shrug, and a hair tie. When I return, I pull her over to the mirrors. There's no point in all of this if she can't see herself.

"You see, every good outfit has at least one secret weapon," I say, sweeping her hair from her shoulders and tying it to one side. "This is yours. The legs, everyone will notice, you have nice legs. But what you need to remember is just here-" I touch the curve of her neck just slightly, smiling at her in the mirror. "This is grace and beauty and sex rolled into one, without ever having to show much of anything at all."

I slip the shrug around her shoulders at that and laugh. "Everyone always forgets that. It's the small and subtle things that get the attention."

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

He sizes me up again, talking all the while, of course. I roll my eyes and try to stand up straight while he brings me more things. I like the shoes, though they're not practical in the least, and I have a nicer hair tie at home, but I'm not going to tell him any of this. I slip on the heels and let him pull my hair back. He's very quick and clever with his hands, which I already knew. I'm glad he's being nice with them now, though.

"Thank you." That's all there is to say, really. I'll remember what he said about the secret weapon. That's important, and I didn't know it before. Turning around as he finishes adjusting the knitted thing, I lean against the mirror. I'm not small and subtle, just short and sensible, but I think, I think I've got his attention.

I square my shoulders and tilt my head, watching him watching me watching him in the mirror. "Dorian. Are you very good in bed?" Is he happy and poised like this, I wonder, or smug and infuriating like he was earlier, or all of them together? I could ask Glass, but I'd like to find out for myself. It would take my mind off Jamie, certainly, and it's not as though I'm in danger of getting pregnant.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

A slow grin eases onto my face, I can feel it. "There's only one real way to find out." Things have taken an unexpected turn, I'll admit. And oh, but those are my favorite sort of afternoons. "Are we done shopping now?" There's the urge to move forward, I think she'd like me to, but I stay where I am for the moment. It's part of the fun, seeing exactly how this will go without pushing one way or the other.

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

He doesn't smirk, for once. This is mostly a real smile, if very lazy and smug still. "I'm done shopping," I tell him very firmly. "And I've already taken my clothes off any number of times for you." He couldn't see me, but I don't really care. "I think you should take off yours. In the dressing room."

I fold my arms and look at him expectantly. I think this is a game I can play.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

Oh God, she's serious.

I laugh, I can't help it. "In the dressing room? Well that hardly sounds like fun," I say, starting to unbutton my shirt. "Are you sure I can't just take them off right here?" Of course, we are technically still open for business. The door's unlocked and either Winnie or Damien could be back at any time.

I slip out of my shirt and toss it her way.

[janeveniver.livejournal.com]

He doesn't go quietly, of course. I catch the shirt he tosses me as I eye the lean lines of his chest. "You should eat more. You're far too thin." But I can't help smiling as I say it. I won't mind baking him pies at all.

I point towards the dressing room. "You can prance around your shop all you want, but that's where I want you to make me forget my ex-husband." And oh, Dorian, I really, really do.

[dorian-excolo.livejournal.com]

"You should eat more. You're far too thin."

"What can I say? I'm a man half-starved," I say. "In obvious need of Excolo's finest pies." Oh God, if Iago were here...

"You can prance around your shop all you want, but that's where I want you to make me forget my ex-husband."

"Prance? I don't prance." I'm still smirking a bit though, of course, backing towards the dressing room. "Strut, yes. If you're very lucky."

My shoes, my socks, they're easy enough to take off and kick into the corner once I'm behind the curtain. There's something amusing about all of this, especially now that she can't see me.

I toss my pants out of the dressing room.