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“Holy shit,” he said, checking himself out in several angles.
“I know, right? What a trip.”
I’d been a server at Molly’s for almost two years now, and it was all a part of my job. It was cool to see it from Patrick’s point of view—as something new, exciting and different.
“Now, shoes. The shoes are easier to lace up before you put on the corset. Trust me.”
We put on the light brown, kid leather ankle boots and laced them up.
“Do they fit okay?” They would have taken Patrick’s measurements and shoe size when they’d given him the job offer.
“Yeah. I look so fucking weird.”
“You look real cute. Just wait until you’ve got the corset on…and the choker. The choker pulls it all together.”
“Do all the servers wear the same thing?” Patrick asked, as I lifted the boned corset from my diminishing pile.
“This is the basic outfit, what we’re getting into. But sometimes you can find stuff at thrift shops and places like that. Robin has a gorgeous magenta kimono with gold dragons on it that he wears sometimes. If you want to, you can wear makeup and earrings—or other jewelry. Whatever floats your boat, really, as long as it goes with the overall vibe.”
“Which is?”
“Nineteenth-century male hooker?”
“Right.” Patrick laughed.
“Well, molly boy, actually. Hence the name.”
“Molly what?” Patrick said, screwing up his face. “I just thought it was named after someone called Molly.”
“Nah, you see, Patrick,” I said, wrapping the short corset around my middle and making sure my chemise was straight. I fastened the tiny clasps up the front. “In those days, the hustlers who worked at the whorehouses that catered to gay men wore the same outfits the girls wore at the other places. And they were called molly boys.”
“Huh.”
“It was a fascinating period in history, really. I wouldn’t want to have lived back then, but the stories of the men who defied convention and got up to mischief regardless are very inspiring. Imagine if you had to risk imprisonment or hanging every time you met a man for sex? Those guys were legends.”
“Wow. How do you know all that?”
“Well, Jacob gave me a rundown. And I’m a compulsive researcher. I’ve read some really good books about Victorian sex rebels,” I said. “You need help?”
Patrick was trying to put his corset on upside down. “Yes, please. How the fuck did they do this every day?”
“I don’t fucking know,” I said, taking the corset from Patrick and turning it the right way around. “You get used to it, though. And once it’s all on, it’s not too bad. Don’t lace the corset too tight or you’ll have problems. You want it to be snug but not constrain,” I said, pulling the laces tight enough to hold him securely. “The design is handy, because you only need to lace it once. Then you just use the little clasps in the front—unless you lose or gain a lot of weight or something.”
I tied the strings in a double bow and went around in front of him to fluff the chemise over his nipples. “You want to let it gape a bit so they can see them, but make it titillating, not blatant. Trust me,” I said, winking. “I’ve got this down to an art form.”
Patrick’s gaze swept along my body from the top of my head to my feet in the brown shoes. “You sure do.”
I might have preened a bit as I put on my velvet choker and glimpsed my reflection. But there wasn’t time to dawdle.
“All right. You look amazing, by the way. Let’s go.”
“Do I need to do something to my hair?” Patrick asked.
“Nah, it looks fine. I usually dab some gel on mine, but I don’t have time right now,” I said, taking the lead as we headed out into the hall and through the double doors of the gaming parlor.
Chapter Two
Maverick Molly’s
