Chapter 52.4

Far too much time later, we said our goodbyes to the beaming tailor, two silver richer and smiling like old friends parting after far too many drinks.  However, the very moment we closed the door on the man, the lot of us sagged with relief.

“I am not wearing this,” Arx announced, letting her hat fall from her head.  Which did not settle to the ground so much as thump.

But at the very least, the rest of her outfit had been fixed.  Her leggings had been trimmed back to allow for her claws and hemmed to prevent fraying.  Then, they had been secured in place by some sort of leather half-shoe which only served to cover her ankles.  Not that they functioned as footwear with the way she walked.

Meanwhile, the blouse had been modified to include a pair of wide lapels so that her ‘girls’ could get some air.  So she was not scratching at it anymore, but every time I looked at her, she instinctively sucked in a breath sufficient to stretch every button almost to the breaking point.

I appreciated the effect, but I had a feeling the garment was not going to last all that long.  Unlike the panties, which did not survive much beyond the hat.

“Byech!”  She shivered in disgust as she hurled it away.  “Feels like that ‘stit-sucking thing gave me a rash!”

“You would think you’d have learned your lesson the last time,” I pointed out.  “Why did you even bother?”

She cast her eyes to the floor, mid-scratch, and shrugged like a penitent child—perhaps, caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“You liked Lynnria’s so much, I thought… maybe I could tough it out?”

I had to smirk.  Of course, that would have been why.

“Well, in that case, I will accept the sentiment in the spirit in which it was intended,” I said, pulling her close.

She let out a little gasp, perhaps surprised that I would initiate.  But that did not lesson her ardor.

The kiss we shared was intense for all its brevity, but it was next to impossible for it to be otherwise.  There was a kind of magnetism between us.  Almost like an event horizon.  Beyond it lay inescapable passion.

Thankfully—to my sensibilities if not my libido—Lynnria remained understandably curious as to her potential future condition and had knelt to inspect the discarded cloth with some seriousness.

“I can’t understand why this would bother you so much,” she observed thoughtfully, running the material between her fingers.  “It’s so soft… it almost feels like water.”

It had been an innocent observation.  Even so, it was enough to drive a wedge through the mounting flames of our desire, and I pulled away before things escalated farther.  It had been a near thing.  A moment more, and I felt sure the two of us would have been rutting like animals.

Which was… well, maybe not weird, exactly.  The fitting process had taken some time, so it had been a couple of hours since my last sexual encounter.  But it was different.

It was almost as if those few layers of cloth had created a barrier that we could not help but rebel against.  As though enrobing ourselves had become nothing but pantomime.  An act.  As though clothing itself retained no purpose other than to be discarded in sexual frenzy.

I took a steadying breath, suddenly feeling stifled by my own outfit.  The damned thing had been hot to begin with, but now?

Admittedly, it was just a long overcoat, but the fabric was so stiff, it hung out and away from my body like a tube.  And with a color scheme somewhere in the vicinity of moss, it looked like I was wearing a fuzzy bell assembled by an interior decorator from the 1970’s.

I had been trying to pretend it was a wizard’s robe.

Not that Arx seemed to mind overmuch.  From the way she was looking at me, you would have thought my erection was throbbing out in the open air.  And not perfectly concealed behind what felt like inches of wool.

“I don’t know if I can describe it,” she said, turning with some reluctance.  “Maybe like… being teased?  Constantly.  But without any of the good parts.  It’s like wearing… frustration.”

Lynnria’s expression turned contemplative.

Her own outfit had not changed much beyond the sporting gear I had met her in.  When presented with her choice of the display items, she had instead opted to engage in a little bargaining of her own.

To which, the tailor had readily agreed. We were already making out like bandits—from his perspective—so keeping his prized displays had been a welcome alternative.

As a result, Lynnria now had a convenient flap sewn into the seat of her pants for her tail to slip through.  She had even convinced the man to stitch together a pair of those odd, toe-less boots he had made for Arx.  I had no idea what their appeal was, but she seemed to like them.

“Still.  Seems like a waste to just throw it away.”

“Keep it then.”  Arx shrugged indifferently.  “For however long you can stand it.    Maybe you can even use it to cover that nipple on your wrist.  Why do you even still have that thing?  I thought you guys were going to sort it out in the hall.”

“Leave it be,” Jax warned, drawing my attention her way.

Of the three of us, her outfit was by far the least offensive.

Her dress had an elegant and classic design for all its simplicity.  It was just a narrow loop of black cloth draped over her neck that swooped in two pieces down her front.  The cloth widened at her breasts, covering them enough for decency but leaving just a hint to tease at a man’s gaze.  The two pieces then trailed down her front behind a wide belt she had strapped about her waist like a girdle before appearing again—this time as a solid piece—rather like the front of a loincloth.  The flap ended in a diagonal slice somewhere around her ankles.

Much like Arx, she too was sporting a pair of tights, again secured with a set of those nonsensical boots, all of which came together like some sort of faux thigh-highs.  Meanwhile, her hair had been bound up with a strip of leather into a wavy ponytail.

I thought she looked sexy as hell.  Expect for the shoulder pads, which would not have been out of place on the bass player for an 80s hair-metal band.

She even has an ax.  Ha!

I had no idea what theme the tailor had been going for.  We had a sexy rocker.  A sexy gambler… or maybe a colorful extra from My Fair Lady?  A sports enthusiast.  And me.  The walking Erlenmeyer flask.