Post by Magda on Oct 15, 2017 17:48:26 GMT -5
How did you come to have it in your closet then?
“You left it with me,” Magda said, neglecting to add that he’d taken the contents of its pockets with him but left the jacket itself in her hands. “And I couldn’t throw it away. It was yours.” As if that much was obvious.
Dane took the blazer and the hanger from her without a word, without even a word of recognition. His eyes did linger on it though, but laid it down on her bed beside the tuxedo, a hand lingering on the lapel. Magda didn’t press him. Doubtless for him it was just some miscellaneous garment, and she didn’t have the heart to try attach old memories to such a simple piece of clothing when there were new memories laid out across the bed.
Thank you, I suppose we’re running out of time for show and tell.
“Later, perhaps. In the meantime, get your kit off,” she said with a swift wink, brushing a knuckle against the shoulder of his cotton t-shirt. “And don’t worry, I won’t look,” she added, turning away from him with a grin and going back to the vanity table as he hesitantly stripped off his clothes. Magda seated herself at the stool before the dresser and opened a wooden jewellery box inlaid with mother of pearl. She couldn’t help but glance at his reflection over her shoulder as he wriggled out of his trousers, her eyes traced the lean curve of his back and legs, then flashed back to her own face as she studded her earlobes with sapphires and twisted back her hair, pinning it into a sleek chignon and fixing it into place with a diamond and sapphire hair comb. Piece by piece, he donned the tuxedo, and it fitted him as though it had been sewn for the lines of his own body, just as she had expected it would.
She turned around on the vanity stool as he shrugged on the waistcoat, her eyes measuring the length of leg and sleeve along with the line of the cut. His collar wasn’t too slack or loose, and the fabric fell the way it should do without hanging too short or being overly creased. Magda stood and crossed to the bed and opened a small velvet box within which were nestled a couple of platinum cufflinks. Placing one between her lips like a sewing needle, she carried the other to Dane, picked up his wrist, teased out the white shirt cuff from behind the jacket sleeve, and threaded the first cufflink into the buttonhole. Once done, she took the second cufflink from her lips and replied, “We don’t need a story. If anybody asks, we simply tell them the truth.” Her fingers finished their work at his other cuff before she tweaked the dinner jacket sleeves down and examined how they sat at his wrists. Satisfied, she continued, “We’re old friends and you’re accompanying me to the dinner. I don’t think anybody needs to know any more than that.”
Placing both hands lightly to his chest, she smoothed down the front of the shirt into the deep ‘V’ of the waistcoat and looked up at him, at first smiling faintly up at him, before her eyes dropped to his collar. She turned back for a moment, took the bow tie from the bed and handed it to him, before opening up an old cherry wood box that had been sat on the bedspread. She took an ornately engraved white gold pocket watch from its depths, and took it back to Dane. Magda tucked the chain bar into the top buttonhole of his waistcoat and slipped the watch into his left-hand waistcoat pocket, letting the watch fob hang to the front.
Magda took two steps back, her eyes tracing up and down his form. Other than the bow tie which she’d handed him, there was only one touch left. She picked up a shoebox from the bed behind her and knelt to set it on the floor. From within tissue paper padded depths she took a pair of gleaming black leather oxfords, which she set on the Persian rug before Dane’s feet.
“Let me know how they fit,” she said, straightening up and smoothing down the front of the silken bathrobe.
“You left it with me,” Magda said, neglecting to add that he’d taken the contents of its pockets with him but left the jacket itself in her hands. “And I couldn’t throw it away. It was yours.” As if that much was obvious.
Dane took the blazer and the hanger from her without a word, without even a word of recognition. His eyes did linger on it though, but laid it down on her bed beside the tuxedo, a hand lingering on the lapel. Magda didn’t press him. Doubtless for him it was just some miscellaneous garment, and she didn’t have the heart to try attach old memories to such a simple piece of clothing when there were new memories laid out across the bed.
Thank you, I suppose we’re running out of time for show and tell.
“Later, perhaps. In the meantime, get your kit off,” she said with a swift wink, brushing a knuckle against the shoulder of his cotton t-shirt. “And don’t worry, I won’t look,” she added, turning away from him with a grin and going back to the vanity table as he hesitantly stripped off his clothes. Magda seated herself at the stool before the dresser and opened a wooden jewellery box inlaid with mother of pearl. She couldn’t help but glance at his reflection over her shoulder as he wriggled out of his trousers, her eyes traced the lean curve of his back and legs, then flashed back to her own face as she studded her earlobes with sapphires and twisted back her hair, pinning it into a sleek chignon and fixing it into place with a diamond and sapphire hair comb. Piece by piece, he donned the tuxedo, and it fitted him as though it had been sewn for the lines of his own body, just as she had expected it would.
She turned around on the vanity stool as he shrugged on the waistcoat, her eyes measuring the length of leg and sleeve along with the line of the cut. His collar wasn’t too slack or loose, and the fabric fell the way it should do without hanging too short or being overly creased. Magda stood and crossed to the bed and opened a small velvet box within which were nestled a couple of platinum cufflinks. Placing one between her lips like a sewing needle, she carried the other to Dane, picked up his wrist, teased out the white shirt cuff from behind the jacket sleeve, and threaded the first cufflink into the buttonhole. Once done, she took the second cufflink from her lips and replied, “We don’t need a story. If anybody asks, we simply tell them the truth.” Her fingers finished their work at his other cuff before she tweaked the dinner jacket sleeves down and examined how they sat at his wrists. Satisfied, she continued, “We’re old friends and you’re accompanying me to the dinner. I don’t think anybody needs to know any more than that.”
Placing both hands lightly to his chest, she smoothed down the front of the shirt into the deep ‘V’ of the waistcoat and looked up at him, at first smiling faintly up at him, before her eyes dropped to his collar. She turned back for a moment, took the bow tie from the bed and handed it to him, before opening up an old cherry wood box that had been sat on the bedspread. She took an ornately engraved white gold pocket watch from its depths, and took it back to Dane. Magda tucked the chain bar into the top buttonhole of his waistcoat and slipped the watch into his left-hand waistcoat pocket, letting the watch fob hang to the front.
Magda took two steps back, her eyes tracing up and down his form. Other than the bow tie which she’d handed him, there was only one touch left. She picked up a shoebox from the bed behind her and knelt to set it on the floor. From within tissue paper padded depths she took a pair of gleaming black leather oxfords, which she set on the Persian rug before Dane’s feet.
“Let me know how they fit,” she said, straightening up and smoothing down the front of the silken bathrobe.