Little Black Dress Read online

  “That too. Keep up the good work.”

  “Get ready for your first international order. Next week will be big.” She took long strides toward the Metro station as she chatted. Slipping her sunglasses on, she flipped her long hair in the breeze.

  “I think I’m finding my je ne sais quoi.”

  “Your what? Whatever. Just make us some money, kid.”

  “Will do. Hey, I met a woman here who’s helped me get acclimated to French culture. I’d like to take her to dinner tonight. Okay to expense it?”

  “Alright. Sure. Just don’t go overboard.”

  “Got it.”

  She hung up before Mitch changed his mind and pulled Giselle’s business card from the outside pocket of her handbag. Looking up the address on her phone’s map app, she groaned at the distance. It was completely on the other side of the city which meant she’d have to take a taxi back to her hotel. Growing up in New York City, Jamie’s street smarts told her not to ride the trains at night, especially in a strange city. The Metro was safe enough during the day and after almost a month, she navigated the underground maze of trains like a native. Too bad she still couldn’t speak or dress like one.

  Climbing the stairs from the Metro, Jamie sighed at the sight. She was still in awe of the beauty of Paris. The well-kept buildings and small cafés could’ve been straight out of a movie set. Paris was unlike New York and other than the obvious language barrier, she began to love the culture. After a couple wrong turns, she found the address and rang the bell. A series of locks clicked and a well-dressed woman pulled open the wooden door.

  “Bonjour, Mademoiselle.”

  “Bonjour. Je m’appelle Jamie Scotts. Giselle is expecting me.”

  “Oui. Oui. Come in.” The woman offered a warm smile, walked to the front of her antique desk and picked up the phone receiver. “Mademoiselle Jamie is here.”

  After a moment, the delicate tick of heels filled the quiet room. “Merci, Murielle,” Giselle said, approaching Jamie and hugging her lightly while administering the double air kiss Jamie had by now begun to expect. Her blonde hair tickled Jamie’s nose as the scent of orange and jasmine filled Jamie’s senses when she smiled at Giselle. Her friend’s tight knit dress hugged every curve and showcased her long, shapely legs. She towered over Jamie’s 5’5” frame. “Come with me into the back. I think I have something you’ll love.” She took Jamie’s hand into her own and tugged her forward. Jamie’s heartbeat switched into overdrive as her gaze fell over Giselle’s backless dress. The neckline plunged down to her tailbone where a small tattoo peeked out from the dress’s fabric. Swallowing hard, Jamie forced her line of vision upward and away from Giselle’s swaying backside.

  The next room was lined with fabrics, mannequins, dress forms and a sewing machine. “You’re a designer?” Jamie asked, scanning the room’s contents. She realized she didn’t know anything about Giselle. She’d figured her to be a businesswoman but was so focused on her own issues, she’d never asked what she did for a living.

  Giselle touched a bolt of fabric and nodded. “Oui. I’m a designer. I can’t tell you what a thrill it brings me when I say that.” She smiled broadly.

  “I could only imagine.” Jamie’s gaze focused on rack of blouses and skirts. When she pictured a fashion designer, she thought of rail thin runway models dressed in outlandish clothing. Giselle’s studio was filled with mostly neutral separates.

  “I pulled together some samples in your size. They’re last year’s styles but most of my designs are classics and only a trained eye would know. You’re free to take what you want.”

  Jamie approached one of the racks. Her fingertips ran down the length of a creamy blouse. “I couldn’t. I wouldn’t feel right about taking from you. You’ve given me so much already.”

  “Please. I want you to have them. I usually give my samples to charities but haven’t had the chance yet. After looking at your outfit yesterday, I think an emergency makeover is overdue. Here—” Giselle moved to the rack and expertly pulled hangers of skirts, sweaters, blouses and jackets. “You can mix and match most of these pieces into different ensembles. You just need a few key pieces.” She handed Jamie the pile of garments.

  Scanning the room, Jamie awkwardly searched for a dressing area with her arms full of clothing.

  Giselle giggled. “I forgot how Americans are so caught up with nudity. It’s just skin. We all have it. No?”

  Don’t make a fool of yourself. Giselle was right, she was being silly. Jamie snorted and unzipped her pants. She shimmied into a grey skirt with ruffled trim and a lavender blouse. The difference a good cut and expensive fabric had on her body was instantly noticeable. “Do you have a mirror?”

  Giselle was busy pulling more outfits together from the rack. “There’s a full length over in the corner. Just take the hangers off the top.”

  Removing the hangers, Jamie caught the first glance of the way the Giselle’s designs hung on her body. She twisted and turned, examining every inch of the outfit. “Wow.”

  “Yes. Wow. You have a beautiful figure and you were covering your curves with clothing that was too big for you. Here, now let’s try this.” Giselle held a black knit dress.

  “Oh. I don’t think I can wear anything like that,” Jamie said and waved her hand.

  Giselle held the hanger in front of Jamie’s chest. “You don’t know unless you try.” Giselle tilted her head and furrowed her brow as her gazed traveled the length of Jamie’s body. “Yes. It’ll work. Trust me.”

  “Okay,” Jamie said doubtfully. She unbuttoned the blouse and slipped it off her shoulders before easing out of the skirt.

  “Lift your arms.” Giselle’s fingertips casually grazed Jamie’s back, unleashing a butterfly or two in Jamie’s stomach and she pulled the dress over her head. Smooth fabric floated over her arms and down her abdomen. Giselle knelt and smoothed the bottom of the dress over Jamie’s legs. “Turn.”

  She pivoted on her heels until her back faced Giselle. “Panty lines. Cotton panties won’t work with this dress. Otherwise it’s perfect. You’ll need a thong or go without.”

  Jamie’s cheeks flushed a deep red and she turned away from the mirror hoping Giselle wouldn’t notice her embarrassment. “I’ve never worn a thong and I always wear underwear,” Jamie chuckled.

  “Not to worry. A trip to the lingerie store is our next stop. You won’t believe what a well-fitted bra can do for you.”

  Jamie flushed again and assessed her boobs. I guess they can use a lift.

  After a dozen more changes, a pile of clothes that would never fit in her small hotel closet sat on Giselle’s work desk.

  Jamie surveyed the pile and shook her head. “Really. This is too much.”

  “Nonsense. A girl can never have too many shoes or clothes. Put the knit dress back on and we’ll hit Mimi’s before we go to dinner.”

  “As long as dinner’s my treat. I got the okay from my boss to take you out.”

  “What are we waiting for then?” Giselle smoothed on a coat of scarlet lipstick over her plump lips before taking Jamie’s hand, guiding her to the front. She spoke quietly with Murielle before giving her a quick hug followed by a “Bonsoir.”

  A quick trip to Mimi’s boutique yielded two lacy bras and a few thong panties, which Jamie tested out on their walk to the restaurant. The soft dress whispered over her backside, making her acutely aware of her nipples hardening through her new bra and knit dress. The new textures sent her body on high alert. Awareness only grew when Giselle slipped off her coat and the colors of her mysterious tattoo teased from the edge of her dress.

  Giselle kissed the hostess on both cheeks. “You favorite table, Ms. Bianchi?”

  “Please,” she said warmly.

  Jamie smiled as she placed a napkin in her lap, happy to be seated next to her new and only friend in Paris in a corner table of the small restaurant. Giselle ordered for the both of them, including a bottle of Bordeaux.

  “I noticed your last nam
e on your business card. Bianchi? Are you Italian? Your accent is a little different from most I’ve heard here.”

  “I’m originally from Italy but my parents moved us to Greece when I was a teenager.”

  “How did you get into clothing design?”

  “A lot of hard work. I came to Paris seven years ago with my sketches and a few Euros and worked from the bottom up. My first job was sewing samples for a designer. Gradually I moved up the ranks. When my employer retired and moved away, I took a chance, bought his studio and started my own label. Small boutiques bought a few of my designs.” She took a sip from her glass and poured more wine into Jamie’s. “Just last year my dream came true when Harrods bought my spring line as a test. It sold well and they contracted me for the next two seasons.”

  Jamie nodded. “Looks like you’re living out your dream.”

  “I worked for it, but yes. It is my dream.”

  “You must not have much time for a social life. Boyfriends?” Jamie had glanced at her hand back at the studio for the telltale signs of a ring.

  Giselle picked up her glass and rocked it in a circular motion. The red liquid coated the sides of the glass and flowed downward into a pool of garnet.

  “I’m sorry. That was too personal, wasn’t it?” She looked down at her own glass.

  “No. Not too personal. I’m just trying to find a way to tell you something that may risk our new friendship.”

  Jamie searched the woman’s eyes.

  “No boyfriends. I’m attracted to women.”

  Her words washed over Jamie like a soft wave and flowed warm and hot down to her core.

  “Et toi, Jamie?”

  “No boyfriends,” was all she could say before taking a very unladylike gulp of her wine. Glancing back to Giselle, Jamie’s heartbeat ticked up and she took a deep breath before she spoke. “I’ve always been something of a geek.”

  Giselle furrowed her brow. “Explain geek.”

  Jamie snorted at the sound the word made coming from Giselle lips. “Geek means socially awkward.”

  Giselle nodded. “Ah, okay. Continue.”

  “I was painfully shy when I was younger and spent most of my high school years behind a computer screen. I found my niche in college as a computer science major. But as one of the only females in my classes, I found myself being one of the guys instead of dating them. They just didn’t interest me.” Jamie shrugged, finished her wine and slid the glass toward Giselle who promptly refilled it. The delicious wine’s effects washed over Jamie, giving her the courage to ask the question that was at the tip of her tongue. “When did you know you liked women?” Her eyes flicked to the side then back to her glass.

  “I think I’d always known but one particular night I found out for sure. I went on a date with a man. He took me to a club and his sweaty hands were all over me while we danced. He kept shoving his tongue down my throat. I felt physically ill and slipped out the back door after excusing myself to the ladies’ room. The door led to a dark alley and that’s where I saw them. Two women. I heard them first as it was so dark. Their soft feminine sighs drew me to them. I moved closer to find one of the women had the other against the wall, fondling her exposed breast and kissing her as though she were a cherished piece of porcelain. I couldn’t look away. Then they saw me and stopped. I was about to turn and run away but the woman against the wall held her hand out to me. Her eyes held such depth and generosity. I looked at the other woman and she smiled. I joined them and we did nothing but kiss. I never saw either again but I knew that was the lifestyle for me. Soon after I moved to Paris to start a new life. And here I am.” Giselle shrugged and smiled.

  Jamie turned toward her new friend. “You have it all together. I wish I knew what I wanted out of life.”

  Giselle touched her arm. “You will, ma chère, you will.”

  After dinner, they walked arm and arm back to the shop. Jamie’s cheeks hurt from smiling, her belly sated from the rich French food. They stopped at the shop’s front door and Giselle pulled her keys from her purse. She twisted the key in the lock and pushed the heavy door open into the room. Only a small sliver of light shone through the window from the light post outside.

  “I’ll call a taxi for you and have my courier deliver the clothes to your hotel tomorrow. You should take that great blouse and pleated skirt with you for tomorrow’s appointment. You look lovely in pink,” Giselle called as she headed down the hall without switching on the light. Jamie tried to follow Giselle’s rapid French as she listened to her call for a taxi. The piece of the conversation she made out was the address as Giselle returned to the front swinging two hangers from her index finger. Smiling, she held the blouse against Jamie’s body. Silky fabric slid across the backs of Jamie’s hands.

  “I can’t thank you enough. For everything.” Jamie looked into the woman’s eyes, remembering the story Giselle told her at the restaurant. Depth and generosity were exactly what reflected back at her.

  “The pleasure is all mine.” She handed Jamie the hangers, grasped her shoulders and pulled her in. Jamie breathed deep and inhaled Giselle’s signature scent of orange and jasmine. Their bodies melded into one another as Giselle kissed Jamie on both cheeks. Her eyes locked with Giselle’s as they pulled away. Jamie wet her lips, lifted her head and closed the space between them. A horn sounded outside the door, startling the women.

  Giselle smiled. “That’s your taxi.”

  Jamie shook her head. Did she just make a move on Giselle? The effects of the wine made her woozy and she nodded as Giselle took her hand, leading her to the door. With a light squeeze of her hand, she opened the door and a gust of wind hit Jamie’s face. She glanced back, craving the privacy of the dark shop and the warmth of Giselle’s embrace.

  Chapter Four

  ‘Ding’

  The brass bell rang above her head as Jamie opened the shop door. Stepping into the store, the skirt’s fabric caressed her stockinged legs. It amazed her how a change in wardrobe adjusted her entire outlook. Even the heels she dreaded slipping on her feet that morning were actually bearable. She was surprised she made it to the appointment without turning her ankle in the high-heeled pumps Giselle gave her from the studio. Maybe there was something to this fashion thing after all.

  “Jamie!” Anna glided from the back of the store and kissed Jamie on both cheeks before stepping back and scanning her up and down. “I love your outfit!”

  Jamie smoothed the skirt with both hands. Normally, she would cringe from such scrutiny. She wasn’t used to receiving comments on her clothing. Instead she stood straight with her shoulders square and was proud to detect approval in the woman's eyes. “Thank you. A friend took me shopping last night.”

  “She certainly has excellent taste. Come, come. We’ll sit in the back office and wait for Simon. He’ll be here momentarily,” Anna said, guiding her to the cramped but neat office.

  The door chime sounded. “Sis? Come take your coffee before it winds up all over your flowers. Oops, I just dropped the croissants on your precious tulips,” a friendly but masculine voice teased.

  “He’s kidding. At least I hope so.” Anna hurried out of the office and returned with a tall man casually dressed in jeans and a button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up carrying a white bakery bag.

  “I’m happy to report no flowers were hurt by the barrage of Simon. But I do have a customer, please carry on without me.” She waved her hand and closed the door, leaving Jamie and a man who seemed as shocked as she was.

  He turned toward the door and shook his head. Placing the cups on the table, he offered Jamie his hand. “I’m Simon Delacroix. Nice to meet you.” A lock of hair hung in his eyes and Jamie assessed he was the younger of the two siblings. “You must excuse my sister. She’s no longer subtle about finding me a date. She’s been trying to set me up since I came back to Paris,” he said while pulling three baked masterpieces from the bag.

  Jamie laughed. “Sounds like my mother back in New York.”
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br />   “Ah, your mother plays matchmaker in New York and my sister is cupid here in France. Maybe they should start a worldwide dating service. Pastry?” He pointed to the delicious smelling baked goods.

  Jamie held her hand up with her palm facing the decadent but seemingly calorie packed concoction.

  “How about a coffee then?” He handed her a small paper cup.

  “That I will accept. The French serve their coffee in such small cups. I can drink like five of these.” She took the cup from his hand and examined the size. “We supersize everything in America.”

  Simon tore the end of a chocolate croissant and held it to her lips. “I insist you take a bite. Café and croissant are a perfect match, and you cannot have one without the other.”

  A little piece wouldn’t hurt. She opened her mouth and accepted the morsel. Chewing slowly, she covered her mouth as the flaky shell crunched between her teeth and bursts of chocolate exploded on her tongue.

  She groaned and glanced at Simon. His eyes were fixed on her mouth.

  Simon cleared his throat, picked up the other cup and tipped the edge to Jamie’s cup. “Here’s to a love of coffee and croissants.”

  Jamie laughed and took a sip. “Anna mentioned you lived in New York for a while.”

  He nodded. “Yes, ten years.”

  “What made you come back after so much time?”

  Simon’s gaze moved to his hands resting on the table. “I just needed a change of scenery.” He glanced back to Jamie and she noticed a flicker of sadness.

  “I’m sorry, that was a personal question. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled as he offered a tight smile. “It’s okay. My wife passed away last year. New York reminded me too much of her so I came back to help my sister with the shop for a while.”

  Jamie pinched the bridge of her nose. “I really shouldn’t have asked you that. I’m so sorry about your wife.”

  “Thank you.” He nodded to her bag on the table. “Let’s see this thing Anna’s convinced we can’t live without.”