Facade

Tanna walked in. Just like last time, she was the epitome of calm and grace. She stretched out her hand.
    “Mr. Price, Mr. Hunter, I am very sorry to keep you waiting, but Mr. Bryant is a very busy man, as I am aware you are too. Why don’t I show you to the dressing rooms so you can try on the ordered suits and we can fit Mr. Hunter for his?” Jonas looked at Tanna and then at Chris with some surprise in his face. Was Chris going to buy him a designer suit? He’d had suits with designer labels before. Armani, Paul Smith, Dries Van Noten, but never one made especially for him, and to get one by Nicky’s Façade
    21
    hand was an added bonus. He was strangely turned on by the idea as they were led into the studio. From the corner of his eye, Jonas saw Nicky, in full peacock regalia, bent over one of the long, wide tables full of cloth and half-finished clothing. They walked toward the back where one wall was separated from the rest of the studio by off-white sheets draped over a curtain rail. Despite the seemingly bland color and fabric, Jonas understood it for what it was; the backdrop was meant to ensure the clothes shone above the surroundings. They were taken behind the curtains, and Chris was helped out of his clothes and into his new suit by nimble and clearly skilled hands.
    Stepping out of the dressing rooms again, Jonas admired the charcoal grey trousers and jacket that truly looked like they were sculpted to Chris’s tall, lean frame. Jonas’s appreciative look was rewarded with a gesture to come closer. Chris put his hand on the back of Jonas’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. It wasn’t lost on Jonas that the minions looked away but Tanna didn’t. Her gaze wasn’t intrusive, but she was clearly not embarrassed by it either.
    Jonas was quite used to being put on display and barely blushed, letting his hand wander around Chris’s waist to rest on the small of his back.
    “Nice fabric, excellent cut,” he said.
    “Your turn now,” Chris nodded as he stepped back. “Take your clothes off, so they can fit you with the test cut and Bryant can weave his magic. I bet he’ll make you look brilliant in no time.” Chris moved closer to Jonas again and lowered his voice, just enough to give a semblance of privacy. “Not to mention, those beautiful fingers of his all over your body will make me hard as a rock and that’s just how I like it.”
    Jonas took off his jacket and started unbuttoning the pants he was wearing. He took his time, knowing how much Chris liked a good show. It didn’t bother him that Tanna was there along with the two young male dressers. Jonas had nothing to be embarrassed about. All his life he’d taken good care of his body, and even now that he was in his forties, it still showed. Even the girl sitting at the far table, clearly trying to keep her mind on what Nicky was telling 22
    Zahra
    Owens
    her and failing miserably, didn’t prevent Jonas from doing what he had been asked.
    However, once he had stripped down to his briefs and was being helped into a suit cut from muslin and held together by coarse thread and pins, he did worry about Nicky. He’d only been with the young man once and hoped he would get another chance, but Nicky hadn’t called him yet and now he had probably squandered his chances all together. Most clients wanted to forget about what Jonas did for a living, wanted to feel that they were the only one. Chris wasn’t as picky. His needs were different, and Jonas had no illusions that he was the only one getting paid by Chris to render his kind of services. Nicky was the needy type of client, though, and Jonas didn’t think he would enjoy having it blatantly pushed in his face.
    “Isabelle! Viens ici!” Nicky shouted at the young girl who had been sitting by his side. He left the table, making his way toward the dressing room, pacing quickly and closely followed by the young woman, who looked more than mildly intimidated. Jonas tried to look him in the eye, but Nicky wouldn’t let him; instead he whirled around him at an astounding pace. “Regarde-moi!” he instructed Isabelle as he started to adjust pins along Jonas’s body.
    She was frantically making notes on her notepad, guided by Nicky’s fast-spoken French. Although that language was one of many that Jonas had a working knowledge of, he barely understood more than a few words of what the young man was saying. He eventually decided that what he heard was mostly jargon, so he tried to