Page 59 of My Ex-Fiance's Best Men
One thing is certain. Whatever Helen is doing there, it’s not about the dumplings or the rare rice wine the Golden Lotus is popular for. The woman is a heavyweight gambler, at the very least.
It does answer some questions, though I don’t think Phoebe will like the answers.
17
THEO
“Welcome to the Perle Noire, Mr. Forbes.”
“Glad to be here,” I pause to read the nametag, “Melanie.”
Around me, a luxurious lingerie store unravels with sleek, gold-brushed racks of only the finest undergarments from several high-end designers. The exquisite lace, silk, organza, and satin along with a plethora of bejeweled accessories sparkle and capture my eye, briefly overwhelming me with what seems like endless possibilities.
The walls are covered in sand-colored stone reflecting the soft white lighting coming from the designer fixtures. Every inch of this place screams tasteful opulence, and their business model follows suit. The Perle Noire offers access to its racks by appointment only.
Melanie, my attendant, is one of the store’s three salespeople, trained to get me to spend large. I didn’t come to pinch pennies anyway.
“Would you like some coffee? Sparking water? Champagne?” she asks with a pleasant smile.
I won’t even remember what she looks like by the time I walk out of here, but everything about her is intentional. Her neutral makeup, her soft uniform colors, the tone of her voice, all designed to keep my focus on the products currently on display. And it’s working.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I tell her. “I was told you would assist me in selecting lingerie and a trousseau for my girlfriend.”
“That is correct, and I’m glad you chose the Perle Noire for this endeavor,” she replies.
Glancing around, I notice that the lingerie is carefully grouped per slightly varying color codes, ranging from the purest, coolest white to the deepest, blackest black. In between is almost every color of the rainbow, its countless variations unfolding in layers of possible fantasies.
No wonder this place is so exclusive.
“Can you tell me a little bit about your girlfriend?” Melanie asks with a smile.
I give her a small card with Phoebe’s measurements, generously provided by Penny so I wouldn’t mess this up. Thank heavens for a good bestie. “This should tell you a little bit about her size,” I reply. “She’s curvaceous, beautiful. She would’ve made Renaissance painters cry tears of joy.”
“She sounds lovely, Mr. Forbes.”
“She’s incredible, yet her whole life she’s been made to think she’s not good enough,” I say, images of her in random selections of the lingerie around me becoming clear in theback of my head. “She’s an intelligent woman. Highly educated. Strong and funny. Cute as a button when she’s happy. She radiates light, Melanie. Does that make sense?”
“Absolutely. Shall I walk you through the color palette? We could start with the soft whites first. But I do need to understand the occasion. The trousseau we’re putting together should not be too little or too much, if you know what I mean.”
“I do. I want to give her something that empowers her, something that makes her feel like the goddess she is. Something to evoke her femininity and her strength.” I grin. “Something I can easily take off.”
Melanie laughs lightly as we stop at one of the white-themed racks. “I completely understand, Mr. Forbes. One of the reasons our clients love this store so much is because we cater to absolutely every size. We also tailor the designs to further please them, making tasteful alterations where needed, using the same type of fabric as the original.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“How about this, for starters?” Melanie asks as she pulls an item from the rack.
It’s a gorgeous panty and bra set made entirely from ivory-white lace. The panty straps are satin and bow tied. Pearls are embedded in the intricate embroidery. I let my fingertips brush over the delicate gold thread accents outlining the floral patterns in a subtle, elegant matter.
“It’s not too bridal, is it?” I ask.
“No. I’ll show you the bridal models in a moment, and you will surely notice the differences. I believe this is one of those lingeriesets that says, ‘I love and worship you’ in the most beautiful way possible,” Melanie replies.
“I’m inclined to agree.”
One by one, Melanie selects specific models and colors from the racks. Half an hour later, I’m looking at eight sets in different colors and made from a variety of materials, each likely to fit a special occasion.
My pants are getting tighter. My thoughts are sinful. But my private thoughts remain private as we reach the red section of the lingerie store.
