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"A present? Why? We're grown-ups. That whole presents-for-everybody-you-know-shit... we're so over that."
Taylor stops his stride and pulls his green bobble hat deeper into his face. He starts explaining like he's talking to a very young child. "Look, I want to buy you a present because you're not just anybody I know. I want to give you something for the fun we had, because I like you. That's all. No pressure or shit. I don't want anything in return."
"But I don't need anything."
"We'll see." Taylor grabs Tré's arm and pulls him forward, through the snowflakes, over the plaza. The air is cold enough to make one's skin sting. Hardly anybody is out here in the winter night, and the few passers-by who are have huddled up in their coats and scarves and hats until hardly anything reminds that there's a human inside.
Tré sighs and looks at his watch. "It's only 40 minutes until all the shops are closed."
"That's enough. I hope."
Tré squints through the flakes, at the shop they're heading for. "Are you buying me some new panties? Or a... tankini?" he chuckles.
"Yeah." Taylor turns and grins like a wolf.
"No. You're shitting me. You're not going to a lingerie shop with me!"
"Why? 's nobody else in there at this time of day."
Tré chuckles and pulls his shoulders up. "You sick bastard. We could get a catalogue, and mail-order, and next time we meet I wear that stuff for you..."
"I want to see how it fits. And also, the stuff never comes as great as it looks in the catalogues." Taylor pushes against the door, and pulls Tré by the arm. There's no way of resisting now. And Tré is getting nosy. This should turn some heads.
Warmth engulfs them as they step through. The place seems to be covered entirely in lace. The windows are filled with white plastic doll bodies with bras, panties, corsets, bodices, silk nightgowns, little shirts, bathing suits, bikinis, and even some petticoats on them. The walls seem to consist of niches with coat hangers on metal rods. And on them — more underwear, bikinis, nighties, bodices...
And behind the counter, there is an elderly, very neat-looking shop assistant, smiling at the two of them.
"Good evening. Can I help you?" She's sure she can. Two men, buying lingerie for their girlfriends... completely helpless, presumably.
Taylor comes to the counter and gives her his sweetest smile. "Hello. We're looking for something for him." He points at Tré, who already starts to feel bad about the lady.
Her thin grey eyebrows come together. "Are you making fun of me?"
"No," explains Taylor, pouring sweetness like a honeycomb. "You see, it's a Christmas present for him. Seriously."
The lady pulls her head back and narrows her eyes. Only politeness is helping her keep up her poise.
"It's your shop, of course, but we'd like to buy something. We're not kidding you." Now he's giving her the lost look.
She's melting, and by and by, her face opens up into an incredulous smile. "And what are you looking for, then?"
Taylor looks at Tré.
"Uhm... underpants?" suggests Tré. "And a bra? I don't know."
She looks him up and down and nods. "The difficulty is to find something in your size. Come over here, please?" She waves him towards one of the niches. Tré takes off his jacket and hands it to Taylor, and while the lady pulls out coat hanger after coat hanger and spreads the fabrics over his chest, Tré stands as still and upright as he can.
"This should be the shelf for you," she decides finally.
Tré is starting to grin all over his face. He is feeling more and more like a child in a candy store by the minute. Fingers running over the flimsy fabrics and lace bits, he goes through all the coat hangers. This is really good stuff. The price tags alone are a bit of a shock, but what the hell. It's a present.
"This one is nice," says Taylor beside him, "and this one here, how do you like this one?"
Tré, one arm full of coat hangers and silk and mesh and elastics (and one pink nightie over his shoulder), only nods. Shit, this is going to be a difficult decision. He would take any of these things.
The shelf is looking very ruffled and empty when they return to the counter.
"The fitting rooms are over here." Their understanding shop assistant leads them to a little carpeted corridor.
"Thank you!" Tré tries to look as serious and responsible as he can, covered in women's underwear, just to reassure her.
"Hurry up, we haven't got all night!" Taylor, arms loaded with lingerie as well, pushes him into a cubicle and shoves himself in after Tré.
Tré swears under his breath. It's getting crowded in here. "I don't even know where to start."
"The pink nightie is a mistake. Pink doesn't go well with your hair." Taylor lifts it up and eyes it critically.
"Pink is more your thing anyway," says Tré and shakes off his shirt. "With you being a blonde."
Taylor, clutching the pink thing to his chest, leers at Tré getting naked.
Tré loves to feel that stare on his back. Let's see if we can make this even better... He slips into a light blue set, pulls everything in place with care, and examines himself in the mirror. "Why are you in here? I thought a present is meant to be a surprise, so you can't see me in it before Christmas!"
"Says who?"
Tré finds a white mesh slip in the heap, and pulls it on his head. Then he turns around and points at the nightie. "Why don't you go and try that thing on?"
Taylor looks down on it and grins before he vanishes backwards, though the curtain. "Be right back."
Tré hums to himself. The blue set goes and instead he tries on a yellow one with stripes (it leaves too much of his butt exposed), and a dark red one made all out of lace, and a silvery one with ribbons, and then... a sinful black one with sequins. And there's a see-through negligee to pull over it.
With feathers. He's looking hot.
In this moment, Taylor tugs the curtain and shakes it. "Tré? Can I come in?"
"Sure."
Taylor, breathing heavily, pushes his body inside. He's standing strangely hunched, the dress a shapeless tent around him. But when he straightens up, Tré can see what the pose was good for — the fabric is clinging to Taylor's hard-on, which is pointing straight upward and forward, right at Tré.
There are red spots on his cheeks, and he's still not quite catching his breath.
"Like the nightie?" Tré asks under his breath and grins.
Taylor's hands brush the layers of black mesh on Tré's chest. "Fuck, yeah." His voice is a rasp, hardly audible.
"You gonna buy it?" asks Tré casually, and stops breathing when Taylor's hand ends up on his crotch. "Stop. Stop!" he hisses under his breath. "We can't do that in here!"
Something is going on with Taylor. His panting in Tré's ear gets even worse, and of course it's not failing to have an effect on the contents of those black sinful underpants. Tré gnashes his teeth, trying to restrain himself from rubbing his growing erection against Taylor's belly.
Taylor's rasp is right in Tré's ear. "Fuck me. Now. Please. We can be really silent, just a minute, she's not gonna notice..."
It takes all of Tré's self control to roughly push Taylor away. "No. Stop. No way!"
Taylor seems to see his point. With a look like his heart is breaking, he leans back against the wall, and Tré is free. "Shit."
"Later," Tré promises.
"Later?"
"After Christmas."
Taylor's nostrils are trembling. He nods and whines. "Yeah... after Christmas..."
Tré wags the black feather boa on his negligee like a propeller. "I think I've found what I like." He can see Taylor's looks in the mirror. He must look stunning in it. Oh yes, he likes this very much.
The shop assistant gives them a slightly strange, but kind look when they place their finds on the counter. Tré tries to shut his ears when the price is being said out loud, but Taylor pays without even flinching.
And after some "Merry Christmas"-wishing, they're back out in the cold, with a bag each.
Taylor is still gnawing his lip. "I can't wait."
"Me neither. But you know. After Christmas."
"I won't see you for a while after Christmas."
"Yeah. The longer the wait, the more fun it is later." Tré is beginning to love this.
Taylor groans through his teeth.
This groan is one Tré wants to keep in mind. Taylor may not be around for a while, but Tré still has his new underwear — and he can't wait to try it on all by himself. Second best, in this case, is also wonderful.
But... not before Christmas.
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