dressing table chair.
Yves reached out to balance him. “Are you okay, Marco?” His right hand was on the small of Marco's back and his left was on Marco's flat stomach.
"Yes, I'm fine,” Marco said. “But I'll be better once I get out of this thong."
"Do you like the new pillows, Marco?” Yves asked.
Jane Francis stared at a couple of animal-print pillows on a small love seat and pressed her lips together. Since Yves had started working for Marco, he taken it upon himself to accessorize the dressing room in the TV studio. He'd polished the floors himself, he'd rearranged the furniture, and he'd repainted everything in the same shade of taupe. Yves claimed that when a room was monochromatic, it was more relaxing. And he wanted Marco's dressing room to be a peaceful, uncomplicated place to be. He even filled small vase on Marco's dressing table every night because he knew how much Marco loved fresh flowers.
"The pillows look wonderful, Yves,” Marco said. “I love them."
"All you need is a red light and a massage table,” Jane Francis said. She knew Marco couldn't have cared less about how his dressing room looked.
Marco gave her a look. Then he yanked off the black tights and tossed them on top of the suede jacket and the high heels. This was work. Marco didn't care about Jane Francis or Yves seeing him in a tight thong.
Yves bent over and picked up the discarded clothing. He pressed the clothes to his chest and said, “I'll take these out and hang them up, Marco. I don't want them to get ruined. They're so beautiful."
Jane Francis's eyes opened wide.
"You do that, Yves,” Marco said. “I'll get dressed."
When Yves stepped out, Jane Francis said, “Are you sure about this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did you forget about Rebecca Braun?” Jane Francis said. “She's the one in charge of your wardrobe and she doesn't like it when someone else handles the clothes from the collection. The last time it happened it took three days to calm her down. She takes her job very seriously and she's the one responsible for all those clothes. If something is missing, it's her fault."
Marco stopped moving. “You're right. Would you go after him before Rebecca finds out? I can't go out like this. I'm half naked.” He smiled. “If those young camera guys see me like this there's no telling what might happen."
"Oh, get over yourself,” she said. “We all have assholes."
Then she stomped out of the dressing room and turned to left. But she didn't have to walk far. Yves was standing at the edge of the set, all alone, staring into a full-length mirror. He was wearing Marco's suede jacket and the high-heeled boots, posing and dipping with dramatic moves as if he was a model walking down a runway.
Jane Francis cleared her throat to get his attention. Yves stopped moving and turned in her direction. His face dropped and his eyes widened.
"I was only trying it on for a moment,” he said. “I just wanted to see how it looked and felt. I didn't mean any harm. Please don't tell Marco or anyone else."
Jane Francis smiled. “C'mon, kid. Let's go back into the dressing room. I think it would be a good idea to just let Rebecca Braun take care of these clothes.” It was hard to get mad at such a sweet young man, even if he had quirks about food. The look she'd seen in his eyes had been absolute fear. Though she was rough on the outside, Jane Francis had a soft heart. “Don't worry. This is our little secret. Besides, you look cute in the jacket. You could be a model yourself if you wanted to."
"Ah well,” Yves said. “I'm afraid I wouldn't be a very good model. I'm a simple guy with innocent dreams. I don't have the personality to be a model, and I'm not nearly good looking enough. But thank you for the compliment."
Up until those last few comments, Jane Francis had been on Yves's side. But when he spoke about himself in this self-deprecating way, as if he were nothing but an awkward, worthless slob, she couldn't help
Yves reached out to balance him. “Are you okay, Marco?” His right hand was on the small of Marco's back and his left was on Marco's flat stomach.
"Yes, I'm fine,” Marco said. “But I'll be better once I get out of this thong."
"Do you like the new pillows, Marco?” Yves asked.
Jane Francis stared at a couple of animal-print pillows on a small love seat and pressed her lips together. Since Yves had started working for Marco, he taken it upon himself to accessorize the dressing room in the TV studio. He'd polished the floors himself, he'd rearranged the furniture, and he'd repainted everything in the same shade of taupe. Yves claimed that when a room was monochromatic, it was more relaxing. And he wanted Marco's dressing room to be a peaceful, uncomplicated place to be. He even filled small vase on Marco's dressing table every night because he knew how much Marco loved fresh flowers.
"The pillows look wonderful, Yves,” Marco said. “I love them."
"All you need is a red light and a massage table,” Jane Francis said. She knew Marco couldn't have cared less about how his dressing room looked.
Marco gave her a look. Then he yanked off the black tights and tossed them on top of the suede jacket and the high heels. This was work. Marco didn't care about Jane Francis or Yves seeing him in a tight thong.
Yves bent over and picked up the discarded clothing. He pressed the clothes to his chest and said, “I'll take these out and hang them up, Marco. I don't want them to get ruined. They're so beautiful."
Jane Francis's eyes opened wide.
"You do that, Yves,” Marco said. “I'll get dressed."
When Yves stepped out, Jane Francis said, “Are you sure about this?"
"What do you mean?"
"Did you forget about Rebecca Braun?” Jane Francis said. “She's the one in charge of your wardrobe and she doesn't like it when someone else handles the clothes from the collection. The last time it happened it took three days to calm her down. She takes her job very seriously and she's the one responsible for all those clothes. If something is missing, it's her fault."
Marco stopped moving. “You're right. Would you go after him before Rebecca finds out? I can't go out like this. I'm half naked.” He smiled. “If those young camera guys see me like this there's no telling what might happen."
"Oh, get over yourself,” she said. “We all have assholes."
Then she stomped out of the dressing room and turned to left. But she didn't have to walk far. Yves was standing at the edge of the set, all alone, staring into a full-length mirror. He was wearing Marco's suede jacket and the high-heeled boots, posing and dipping with dramatic moves as if he was a model walking down a runway.
Jane Francis cleared her throat to get his attention. Yves stopped moving and turned in her direction. His face dropped and his eyes widened.
"I was only trying it on for a moment,” he said. “I just wanted to see how it looked and felt. I didn't mean any harm. Please don't tell Marco or anyone else."
Jane Francis smiled. “C'mon, kid. Let's go back into the dressing room. I think it would be a good idea to just let Rebecca Braun take care of these clothes.” It was hard to get mad at such a sweet young man, even if he had quirks about food. The look she'd seen in his eyes had been absolute fear. Though she was rough on the outside, Jane Francis had a soft heart. “Don't worry. This is our little secret. Besides, you look cute in the jacket. You could be a model yourself if you wanted to."
"Ah well,” Yves said. “I'm afraid I wouldn't be a very good model. I'm a simple guy with innocent dreams. I don't have the personality to be a model, and I'm not nearly good looking enough. But thank you for the compliment."
Up until those last few comments, Jane Francis had been on Yves's side. But when he spoke about himself in this self-deprecating way, as if he were nothing but an awkward, worthless slob, she couldn't help
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