Confessions

Shortly, we arrived at one of my favorite places; the shopping complex. Eyeing the place warily, Kevin slowly undid his seat belt and turned askance at me. Shaking my head and offering no word of explanation, I simply got out and waited for him to follow. Once inside, I made a beeline for one of my favorite stores, knowing he'd almost instantly refuse what I had in mind.

Just as I had expected, upon entering, Kevin wanted to turn right around and leave. "I am not playing dress-up like some eight year old girl," he complained.

Grinning, I grabbed him by the arm. "Oh, come on, Dad. It'll be fun. You'll see. Trust me." At that, he reluctantly allowed me to drag him into the shop. We went right past the women's section and I drug him into the back of the shop where the men's section was.

I knew the girls who owned the store by first name. As Pamela, the heavier set, darker haired owner saw me, she beamed. After roving over Kevin for a moment, she grinned, instantly pulling things from racks as she followed us toward the sitting area with the adjacent changing rooms.

Giggling like a couple of school girls, we added a few more items to her pile and handed it to him. He eyed us like cobras, just waiting to strike, but went to see what we had given him anyway. Sitting on the divan, surrounded by a wonderful assortment of colors and scents, we talked in hushed tones as we waited for him to come out in some of the things we had chosen.

As we talked, the conversation drifted to Kevin and why we were here. I explained to her what had happened. Putting her left hand to her very ample bosom, she offered me a shocked face. "You have got to be joking me," she exclaimed.

Shaking my head sadly, I told her everything. She had already known a very large portion, but I filled her in on what she didn't already know. Nodding sagely as she quietly listened, I finished my little story. "...and that's why I brought him here," I finished.

"You did a smart thing," she advised. "Nothing like playing in clothes to help take your mind off of things." With a wicked little grin, she added, "Or playing out of them. Whatever tickles your fancy."

I gave her the obligatory blush and started sifting through some of the garments hanging about us. Just as I started rummaging through some lovely poet shirts, the door to the changing room clanged shut. Turning expectantly, I simply gaped at what Kevin came out in. Where he had found the horrendous thing he had on, I had not the faintest clue.

Judging by Pamela's reaction, she didn't know either.

Standing before us was Kevin, dressed in the most god-awful ugliest shade of purple I had ever seen. And what was worse was the fact that the suit, for it most certainly was a suit, was not just a suit, but a fat suit. It was obviously a Halloween costume, but where had he gotten it from? He looked like one of those rolly-poly lawyer types you only see in the sitcoms for the 'fat guy' comedy relief.

Jaw agape, I pointed back at the stall. I didn't have words for his outfit, simply gestures. Grinning impishly, he went back inside. As our eyes met, Pamela burst out in hysterical laughter.

"Where on God's green earth did he get that thing from?" I was amazed that he would even consider putting it on. It was, however, quite amusing, now that I thought about it.

Shrugging, Pamela handed me a shirt she had pulled from the rack behind the divan just before Kevin's radical appearance. I held it up and looked it over. It was gorgeous. The material was a soft white cotton with some of the most lovely beige and teal embroidery work around the collar and cuffs that I had ever seen. Add in a soft pale brown leather draw string for the lacing near the neckline and it was almost too good to be real.

I glanced askance at her and she shrugged noncommittally. "This is a man's shirt, yes?" I knew it was a stupid question, but I asked it anyway.

Nodding, she pulled a pair of boots from behind the divan as well. "Maybe these are his size. I think they'll look good together. And in those jeans he came in in? Mmmm... Honey, you're lucky to share the same building as him." Flushing, I nodded and set the two on the end of the divan for when he came out in the real clothing we had given him.

It didn't take long for him to, either. Stepping out and brushing his fingers along the length of the top, he looked up at us. He looked good enough to eat! The top he had on was a black poet shirt, the draw strings near the neck left loose, showing a hint of his pale skin through the lacing. The vest he had on over it hung open, the bead-work on the leather done in turquoise and black, the beads glinting in the florescent lighting. He had traded out his worn blue jeans for a pair of black slacks, ending in, unfortunately, his scuffed old sneakers. It didn't deter from the look, though.

My breath hitched as my eyes roved over him. I knew this was a good idea when I had thought of it. He was looking around for a mirror, and I couldn't help but to admire him in this new style of clothing. It was definitely not meant for everyday wear, but that was okay. Kevin made the clothes look good.

After admiring himself in the mirror, he turned to me. "What do you think?" Nodding my definite approval, I handed him the shirt and boots Pamela had handed me. Taking them from me, his fingers brushing mine, he furrowed his brow. "Aren't you going to play dress-up, too?"

I stopped before I pulled my hands away, his fingers resting on the backs of mine. I hadn't thought about me dressing up. This was meant to take Kevin's mind off of things, not mine. I shrugged. "Do you want me to?"

Nodding and smiling, he turned to the door of his changing stall. "I think it's only fair, after all." With that, he disappeared behind the door, leaving me to gape after him.

Clearing her throat for my attention, Pamela was grinning. She already had an outfit laid out for me, the sneaky little wench. Glancing out into the rest of the shop, to make sure we were still the only ones there, she shrugged. "No sense in you wandering back through half the store. I'll hold the divan cover up for you so you can change. You alright with that?"

Nodding, I moved to stand behind her as she pulled the cover from the divan, holding it up like a shield. I changed quickly, not really seeing the outfit until I was completely encased in it, standing in front of the mirror Kevin had used not too long ago. What met my eyes almost took my breath from me.

The top was a simple cut, the embroidery adding just the right amount of decoration around the hem, slit cuffs, and collar. There was a bit of lacing at the neckline, meant only for detailing and not for cinching the narrow 'v' cut deeply into the front of the shirt. There was a thin dark suede belt, about two fingers wide, that came as part of the shirt's design, the detailing on it also done in lacing. It had no buckles, but tied together with a hidden loop and knot at the front, allowing a portion of the belt to hang down freely just to the right of my pelvis.

The pants were a soft, muted suede with lacing up the outsides of the legs, from hip to ankle. There was a loop and knot closure on them, as well, hidden by the length of the shirt. The only part of my outfit not done in browns and beige, besides the minimal amount of embroidery on the shirt were my boots.

They only came to my ankle, but the front, where the tongue should be, was lacing, like on the sides of my pants. The heels of the turquoise-colored boots gave me an additional three inches, easily. They, too, were made of suede.

Pamela clucked her approval behind me, coming to fuss with my hair, adding a small ebony clip to hold the hair on the right side of my head. She pinned it just above and behind my ear, leaving the left side to hang free. Stepping back to admire her work, I saw her eyes reflected in the mirror. She was looking the other way.

Turning toward the dressing room, I almost fell. Not from the heels, but from the look on Kevin's face. He was staring at me. I flushed a deep crimson and glanced at the floor. He'd never looked at me like that before. It was unsettling and exhilarating, all at the same time.

As I slowly raised my eyes, I allowed myself to take in his appearance as well. He looked stunning in the shirt and boots Pamela had picked out for him. She was right, as well, about how his own jeans would set off the outfit. I didn't know what to say, not that I thought I'd be able to say much around the lump that had suddenly lodged itself in my throat.

Thankfully, I didn't have to. Kevin did. "Well, ladies. This has been loads of fun, but I'm getting mighty hungry. I think we should put our toys away and go find some food." Glancing at me again, he added, "By the way... How much is that outfit, anyway?"

Pamela pulled out her little notebook with all her prices listed, as she didn't want to attach price tags to any of the garments. She tallied up the separate pieces quickly and moved over to him, showing him the price on her little pocket calculator.

His face drawn, he looked at me again. And then once more. It was clear he was grappling with the thought of buying it, despite it's wretchedly high price. He, apparently, really liked it on me.

Sighing, I busied myself with getting out of the outfit, regardless of the lack of shielding. It wasn't like he hadn't seen a woman in her panties before, anyway. Perhaps not me in mine, but that made no difference.

I was just wiggling out of the pants when Pamela cleared her throat again. I glanced up and flushed so many shades of red, my face burned. He was staring at me. Again. I instantly stopped and grabbed the divan cover self-consciously. "What an idiot!" I mentally berated myself.

Talking in hushed tones on the other side of the sitting area, Kevin and Pamela were obviously discussing prices. I sat on the divan, practically pouting as I sulked. I had really liked the outfit. And I loved the way Kevin looked at me while I was wearing it.

Finally, Pamela clucked at me. "Put your pants back on, you silly girl," she chortled. "He's buying it."

Blinking, I looked up at her. "How much?"

She shook her head, smiling. "Not telling. It's a gift from him to you. You don't ask the prices of gifts. Now hush your mouth and put your pants and boots back on. We'll be waiting out at the register. Just put your other clothes in one of those little bags there. And hurry up. The man's hungry." With that, she was gone, leaving me to wiggle back into my pants and pull my little turquoise boots with the three inch heels back on my feet.