Chapter 10 #2
A good portion of everyday shopping was done online, but people always needed time away from work and home.
Physical stores hadn’t disappeared; they’d merely narrowed down into specific niches that survived the Digital Revolutions around the end of the twentieth century.
Which meant nowadays, the entire aesthetic of Bond Street was sleek and subtle on the outside while the interiors of well-branded stores overflowed with luxury products and fawning attention to their wealthy clientele.
Three-dimensional holographic advertisements were relegated to one or two windows in each shop, showcasing the hottest styles of the season strutting down the fashion runways.
Levels of wealth existed even in the retail environment, or rather, especially within retail.
What a person could afford and show off was as much a status symbol as where they dined and who they were seen with.
Jamie had learned young the skill of putting yourself out there in a calculating way to draw the exact kind of attention you wanted.
Their arrival didn’t go unnoticed when the SUV pulled up in front of the shop in question, the manager hovering at the entrance, waiting for them.
Jamie suffered through the effusive greeting, steering Kyle through the brightly lit store showcasing the latest men’s styles while other shoppers looked on curiously.
Black-suited security guards manned the front entrance and kept an eye on the establishment while CCTV blanketed every conceivable angle save within the dressing rooms, for which Jamie was grateful.
“I don’t see why you couldn’t have just bought a suit for me off the rack,” Kyle muttered, working to undo the buttons on his wrinkled dress shirt.
Jamie eyed where Kyle stood on the slightly elevated dressing platform in front of a three-way mirror, enjoying the view. “Do I look like someone who buys off the rack?”
“It’s clothes. You could order it all online and a person wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”
Jamie chuckled, ignoring the scandalized look their personal shopping attendant tried to hide as the man ferried in various items for their appointment.
Jamie took the glass of whiskey a different attendant handed him before she swept out of the room, the door sliding shut behind her.
Donovan stood guard outside the dressing room, having no desire to be in there with them while they played this game.
Despite the worry simmering in the back of Jamie’s mind, he had to admit he was enjoying certain aspects of their covers. Watching Kyle strip down to his underwear in public so he could be measured and dressed to Jamie’s liking wasn’t a bad way to pass an afternoon.
Kyle, for his part, wasn’t exactly faking his dislike of the high-class shopping experience.
Some of his reactions were truly his own, raw and telling, especially when it came to confirming the measurement of his inseam.
The dressing room’s body scan listed out his measurements for the attendant on hand, who felt it was his duty to double-check using a more traditional method.
The attendant might have asked Kyle to adjust himself out of the way of the measuring device that was slipped right up against the apex of his inner thigh, but he sure didn’t like it, judging by the look on Kyle’s face.
Jamie had to cough to cover his laughter.
“You think this is funny,” Kyle accused.
“On the contrary, I think it’s educational,” Jamie replied around a grin. “Stop wriggling like a little boy getting fitted for his first pair of dress pants. I know you can stay still.”
“The scan alone was more than enough.”
“A good tailor and designer always checks their measurements twice. You pay for the attention to detail in a place like this.”
Kyle shot him a murderous look before holding himself rigidly still as the attendant finished double-checking his measurements, comparing them to the numbers from the scan on the display his data rings produced.
The man bustled out of the room, neither of them watching him leave.
Kyle crossed his arms over his chest, not in the least embarrassed by his state of undress.
Jamie lazily let his gaze trail up and down Kyle’s trim body before taking a sip of his drink.
“Is this what you have to go through every time you get a new suit?” Kyle asked.
“My measurements are on file with my tailor, and they are rechecked quarterly. Bespoke designs clothes for you down to the last inch for a perfect fit. It’s too close to Friday to go to Savile Row and plan for multiple fittings, and a tuxedo takes a bit more work than a regular suit.
I don’t know if anything will come up between now and then, which means we have to settle for the next best thing that isn’t off the rack. ”
“Like I care what I wear to the gala.”
“I care what you’ll be wearing to the gala. If I want you in a tux, you’ll wear a tux. If I want you to go without, then you will.”
Kyle arched an eyebrow, shifting on his feet. “Is that right? I don’t think I’d fit the dress code going mostly naked to a fancy party like that.”
Jamie swallowed another sip of whiskey and set the glass aside. “Who says you’d be going? I’d leave you at home with instructions to wait for me.”
Kyle sucked in a sharp breath at that offhand comment.
They both knew exactly what Jamie would expect to see if he came home from a night out alone to Kyle in his bed.
The thought made Jamie’s cock twitch in his pants, though he didn’t allow himself to dwell on the idea for very long. It really wasn’t the time and place.
“I’d say let’s do that for this gala, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go without me,” Kyle finally said.
“Then stop complaining about getting properly fitted for your clothes. I like seeing you dressed up.”
“You like dressing me.”
“That, too.”
Their attendant came back inside the dressing room with an armful of clothes, trailed by a second attendant.
Between the two of them, they hung the suit jackets, dress shirts, pants, and vests around the private room on hidden hooks.
Kyle shot Jamie a pleading look at the number of clothes he was expected to try on, which Jamie ignored.
“Nix the white and the gray outfits. I want him in black,” Jamie said as he bent his leg to rest his right ankle over his left knee, watching with a keen eye as Kyle was handed a crisp white dress shirt.
“Of course,” their attendant said, snapping his fingers at his helper.
The white and gray tuxedos were taken out of the room.
The design house didn’t carry a wide range of tuxedos, but what styles they produced were in a classically modern style Jamie preferred over a statement outfit some of his peers enjoyed.
No crushed velvet or color of the season, just expensive Italian virgin wool cut into slim-fitting black pants with a subtle satin trim lining the sides that reminded him of their mess dress.
The satin was repeated on the edge of the coat pockets and along the notched lapel in such a way that it wasn’t overwhelming.
One tuxedo jacket came with tails, but Jamie waved that choice off.
He’d never liked that older style, and he didn’t think Kyle would either.
What he ended up putting Kyle in was a classic outfit that would blend in with everyone else at the party wearing a similar look, which was exactly what Jamie wanted.
He knew Kyle hated being on display for this mission, the sniper in him bemoaning the lack of actual physical cover.
At least this way, Jamie hoped to ease his mind a little.
Kyle pointed at the bow tie the attendant held in his hand. “No.”
“Yes,” Jamie countered.
“I hate this.”
“You’ll thank me later.”
“You wish I’ll thank you later,” Kyle muttered under his breath before submitting to the hands of the attendant.
In the end, Jamie got Kyle in a tuxedo that passed his notoriously high approval level.
The final result was a look Jamie really wouldn’t mind peeling Kyle out of if they were home and they didn’t have a countdown hanging over their heads.
The attendant discreetly left with a mutter about booking for a rush alteration.
Jamie barely heard him, all his attention focused on Kyle as he drank in the sight of the other man.
Kyle didn’t squirm under Jamie’s thorough perusal, mindful of Jamie’s previous command. Jamie finally crooked a finger at him, and Kyle stepped off the dressing platform, walking toward him in the shiny black wingtips Jamie had chosen for him.
“You look good,” Jamie said as Kyle crawled onto his lap, knees on either side of Jamie’s legs.
Kyle wrapped his arms around Jamie’s shoulders, casually running his fingers through the short blond hair at the nape of Jamie’s neck. “It’s too tight. Where the fuck am I supposed to hide a gun on me? You’d be able to see the imprint of it a mile away.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“Like hell I am. There’s barely any room to breathe in this thing.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen you weighted down with fifty pounds of gear and you never complained, yet a proper fit is what has you whining?”
“I can carry my gear in uniform. I can’t carry anything while wearing this getup.”
“This getup is your uniform for the gala. You’re not getting out of it.”
“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind helping me get out of it right now.”
Jamie skimmed his hands up Kyle’s torso, liking the feel of the soft fabric beneath his hands, liking the feel of Kyle even more. “You’re wearing it. That’s final.”
“Yes, sir.”