"This delicate blue lace is French, of course. But the straps are made of Cordovan leather. There are only three in each color, one in each size of each color," the beautiful red-headed La Perla sales representative says, smiling brightly as she presents the lingerie beneath the display case she's standing next to.
Horse. A distasteful thought crosses my mind, sparked by Anat's endless ramblings about leather. Both its production and extraction are unethical. I know leather, so I don't wear it. I force a smile, feigning interest. What kind of lingerie guy is he? La Perla, Agent Provocateur, Frederick's of Hollywood, or Victoria's Secret? La Perla is high-end fashion: luxurious, refined, and one of a kind. Agent Provocateur sits between high-end and mid-range, offering a subtly sexy aesthetic. Victoria's Secret is more mid-range, elegant but leaning toward playful rather than sensual. Frederick's of Hollywood, on the other hand, takes pride in selling the most overtly sexy, show-it-all pieces. He's probably a La Perla guy.
"And these here are diamonds, of course," she adds, as I follow her finger to the three small teardrop diamonds dangling from the center of the blue lace thong with horse leather straps. It's strikingly unique and beautiful, befitting the $3,489 price tag. Considering he tried to gift me a diamond necklace and has diamonds on his cufflinks, watches, and belts, Mr. Silence like diamonds. At least these are subtle, not against my skin, and I won't have to wear it for long. I sigh and show her a picture of the white credit card.
"Wonderful! It comes in blue, red, and black. Which one would you like?" she asks with some excitement, probably because of the sale commissions.
"The red one—no! Blue... wait..."
I love wearing lingerie as much as I love styling clothes, but this one is so not me. Lingerie is for men. Lingerie is for men. I repeat the mantra in my head. Does he even like lingerie? Doesn't every man? James doesn't like lingerie. But he's also a bisexual and a model. Well, he mostly doesn't like how most women don't know how to wear it. Maybe that's why he spent two weekends showing me, three years ago. I sigh loudly.
The redhead panics and says, "If you don't like this one, we have plenty of other unique, sexy pieces in the back that are limited edition or one of–"
"No, this is fine. I'll take the red one, please."
Her face lights up. "Perfect! Are you sure you don't want to try it on?"
I shake my head.
"Great, I'll wrap up the red in small for you."
I sip the champagne while she wraps up the most expensive lingerie set I've ever purchased, around seven thousand dollars. A laugh escapes me at the thought that we've spent so much time making love that I haven't had the chance to seduce him with lingerie or even beautify myself for him.
Beth texts that she has drawings of designs for me to look at, so I head to her studio in the Fashion District after leaving Rodeo Drive with my lingerie set wrapped in a box, tucked inside a black paper bag.
Forty five minutes later, I'm sitting in Beth's studio. Beth points her pencil at the sketch in black with gold accents, highlighting the details. "This is a simple boat-neck gown with a mermaid flare. I know you like interesting shapes."
I try to focus, but the other forty designs pinned to the board scream for my attention.
"So," she continues, "I added the mermaid flares and the folded shoulder to balance out and keep your hourglass figure."
I grin.
Beth laughs, and asks, "What?"
Shaking my head, I say, "I've always wondered what it's like being one of your custom design customers."
"What do you mean? You model for me all the time—you wear my clothes."
"I know. Before, I wore your visions. Now, it's your vision of me." I bite my lower lip, trying to contain my excitement.
I face her when I hear her sigh.
"You're happier than I've ever seen you," she says, stepping closer, her tone somber. "Ace, the happier you are now... the harder it will be when it ends."
My eyes well with tears unsure why her words hit me so hard. "Doesn't everything end?"
Beth's gaze drops to the black bag I placed next to her table. "It feels like a dream, doesn't it?" Her watery eyes reflects mine. There's a history there. Secrets of living the polyamorous life.
I nod. Everything about Mr. Silence does feel like a dream. I'm just not sure whose. I'm not sure what's reality anymore.
"Don't dream too long, or you'll lose yourself," Beth warns. A shadow flickers in her eyes before she turns back to the board.
"Silk, linens, cottons, wools, and natural combinations of those—we'll stay away from polyester. Lenzing™ Ecovero™ viscose and maybe recycled poly are fine, but we'll keep it simple and functional. So far, I have forty outfits for you, suitable for four real seasons, not just Cali's two. Questions? Comments?"
My eyes fixated on the board, captivated by the elegant details and graceful designs. I remember, "Wait, yes, can you add some... gold to the color?"
Beth stares at my nails. "I've noticed."
I instinctively curl my right over my left to hide the nails as her eyes meet mine. Her expression makes me swallow hard as I tighten my grip
She adds, "Anything else?"
I shake my head.
"I'll let you know once I have something for you to try on."
Relieved, I say, "Great, I'll see—"
"Where's he taking you?"
"I'm... sorry?"
"These outfits you're ordering—it would help me design better if I know the occasions and events he's taking you to."
I stare at her. Her face saddens, and a hint of pity crosses her eyes as she holds my gaze before moving around her desk to sit down.
She drops the receipt wrapping my white credit card into the bag. "Don't forget your bag," Beth says, her pencil continuing to work on the unfinished design on her desk.