Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Edgar looked around. He’d never seen a ghost in Allie’s shop. She’d never seen a ghost here. It would probably be okay.
“Okay,” Edgar said and forced his eyes closed. Jamie’s warm hand on his cheek was calming, and he pressed into it.
“Thank you.” Jamie’s voice was velvet, and Edgar shivered. “Okay, here’s outfit number one.”
Jamie handed him the garments one at a time, and Edgar changed, his equilibrium off with his eyes closed. Jamie caught him a few times when he would have lost his balance, hands lingering a bit longer than necessary.
They adjusted his waistband and grazed his hip bone. Fingers ran through his hair and sent frissons from his scalp through his whole body. He thought about the other night, when Jamie had touched him so sweetly, he’d wanted to scream.
A whiff of Jamie’s delicious scent, and then a gentle kiss feathered across Edgar’s cheekbone.
“Okay. Open your eyes, and look in the mirror.”
Edgar blinked blearily as his reflection came into focus. Only he didn’t look like himself at all. Seafoam-green joggers ended in elastic at his anklebones, and his feet were shoved into too-small black-and-white-checkered sneakers. The shirt reminded Edgar of old pictures of Breton sailors, with its wide neck, three-quarter-length sleeves, and thick horizontal navy and white stripes.
At first, he couldn’t tell why he looked so different; then he realized Jamie had pushed his hair forward where he always combed it back. It was just long enough to fall over his forehead, and it made him look both younger and less somber.
“Wow, I look…”
“Damn,” Jamie said, eyes drinking him in. They cleared their throat. “So what do you think?”
“I like how you did my hair.”
“Oh, good. I just thought I’d try it. But if you train your hair that way after you shower, it’ll start doing it on its own.”
Edgar imagined himself as a head of hair and Jamie training him into what they wanted him to be. It made his chest heat.
Flustered and at a loss for anything to say, Edgar blurted the only thing that came to mind. “You can see my—” He touched his collarbones. “It makes me feel…” Vulnerable. “Weird.”
Jamie kissed his cheek softly and went back to flipping through the rack.
“Exposure doesn’t have to feel vulnerable. If you choose when and how you let people see you, it can feel powerful.”
Edgar considered what it would feel like to dress for Jamie rather than for the ghosts. What it would feel like to someday, just maybe, be able to believe something like exposure doesn’t have to feel vulnerable.
“Like burlesque?” he asked, remembering Jamie’s description of the power they felt when they chose to reveal their body for the audience.
“Exactly. Okay, what else do you think?”
“I don’t really like the color of the pants. It reminds me of a baby’s room or something? But I like the elastic at the ankle. That would be convenient for biking especially.”
Jamie was nodding, listening intently.
“The shoes are too small, but I would maybe wear them if they fit. Especially in the summer. They’d be cooler than boots.”
He stared at the shirt. Kept coming back to it.
Jamie put their hands on Edgar’s shoulders.
“Why don’t we put the shirt over there and revisit it later?” Jamie suggested.
“Um, okay.”
Jamie leaned in until their lips were an inch from Edgar’s. “Can I tell you something?” they murmured.
Edgar’s heartbeat sped. “Uh-huh.”
“This shirt looks so hot on you. It’s the tiniest tease, but it reminds me that you have a body underneath your clothes and that I want to reveal it.” They kissed the corner of his mouth. “To strip your clothes off and see everything they hide.” They kissed his cheekbone, lips lingering sweetly.
Heat pulsed at the base of Edgar’s cock. “What…what happens when you look at the clothes I usually wear?”
“Oh, I want to do the same thing. I just want the clothes to land in a donation bin rather than on your floor.”
Edgar laughed and groaned at the same time, erection making the pants suddenly far too tight.
Jamie’s eyes traveled down his body, and they bit their lip. “All right, next outfit.”
They tried on outfit after outfit, and they were laughable, ugly, fine, and silly by turns. But something started to happen the more clothes Edgar tried on. At some point in between the drop-crotch shorts (laughable), the neon orange jacket (ugly), the gray plaid trousers (fine), and the lavender and brown paisley (silly), Edgar stopped evaluating the clothing based on how different each piece was from what he usually wore. His polo shirts and plain-colored T-shirts didn’t have to be the yardstick if he didn’t want them to be.
When he opened his eyes to find himself in a utility kilt and beret, Edgar laughed. “This is fun,” he said. “I can’t believe I’m actually having a good time doing this.”