Page 17 of Sleep

“No stress? I can feel it radiating off you in waves!”

I ignored that. “I should have this one done in a couple of weeks. The Christmas season will be the perfect time to showcase this fabulous orange. Let me put a little bit of boning across the back here. Do you want a pocket for the mic box on the left upper back or hanging off the hip?”

“Off the hip. I’m thinking of adding a boa element to this number and don’t want to risk another malfunction.”

“Malfunction.” I laughed.

“I was not expecting my mic to fly across the crowd like that! Luckily, it hit a very handsome man flat in the chest, and he blew me in the back afterwards by way of apology.”

“Bruce!”

“Yes, Mother. I did. I was a slut and I don’t regret it.”

“Language.”

We did this, gentle teasing and scolding. It was a comfortable place to exist, just letting my hands do the work while Bruce nattered on telling stories of people I vaguely knew, stories of people I didn’t, his gentle laughter matching mine.

“I’m going to find you a nice man. Someone with billions in the bank, who will treat you the way you deserve. Because you are a lovely person, my darling.”

“I am,” I agreed with a wink. “And this lovely person is now going to remove this dress before I turn you into a human voodoo doll. You know the drill. Cover your face and do not move.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Shut up, Bruce. Then can you do a quick tuck so I can grab the measurements for that miniskirt you asked for?”

“Oh, now we’re talking!” He grinned.

“Don’t need your tackle in my face this time.”

“You love my tackle in your face.”

“Bruce.” I sighed. Ted yapped in agreement.

“Oh shush, you terrible creature,” Bruce huffed.

“Actually…” I began.

“Are you going to declare your undying love for me? I mean, you are on your knees.”

“I am,” I admitted, rolling my eyes from my position on the floor. My face was a little too close to where Bruce was strapping his tackle into a neat tuck. “But no. I’m not secretly harbouring The-Giant-Bruce-Crush.”

“Such a tragedy. We would have made a gorgeous couple.”

“I’m too young for you.”

“I could be your Daddy.”

“This old twink is not in need of any Daddying.”

“So what were you going to tell me? It sounded juicy. I could tell from how you smiled.”

“Not that juicy. Got this guest at the moment. Nice guy. Frightfully rich. Awfully straight.”

“Oh. Those are the best ones. There’s nothing better than breaking the straights.”

“Bruce,” I warned again. He may have been as old as my dad, but blimey, he was hard work sometimes. “I’m not going to break any straights. Anyway. I have a feeling he’s one of these bi-curious blokes with a fetish for a fantasy that will crash and burn the minute he realises what’s under the dress.”

“Been there, done that,” Bruce muttered.

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