Prompt #61: Clothing
Title: Layers
Author: aimee_blue
Prompt: Clothing
Words: 1,680
Rating: T
Summary: AU. Appearances can be deceiving... or not.
Easily navigating the store she knew like the back of her hand, Sango carried the neatly folded pile of shirts that the store had just embroidered with the logo of the restaurant three streets away. The pile was high enough that she had a hard time seeing over the top of it but her footfalls were sure as she made it to the counter. Packaging the shirts into the addressed box, Sango was bemused to find the new part-timer giggling childishly.
Curiously, she followed the woman’s line of sight and noticed an affably handsome male perusing the suits over by the window. Rakishly long inky hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck and his violet eyes sparkled mischievously as he perused their selection of clothes. Normally not one for suits, the male was wearing a casual light blue yukata, the geta on his feet clicking rhythmically with each step he took.
Sango pursed her lips. She knew this man. Who didn’t? He was Watanabe Miroku; a famous author who lived in town with a rather infamous reputation for being a charmer and a womaniser. If you listened to gossip, he’d bedded most women in town, had a smile that would make anybody melt into a pile of goo and could charm his way out of a prison cell.
“Kimiko-san,” Sango murmured reproachfully, “shouldn’t you be helping our customer?” Sango gestured at Miroku exasperatedly.
Kimiko’s eyes grew large and a blush tinted her cheeks rosy. “Sango-san! I um... well, I was-”
“Admiring him from afar?” Sango asked caustically. She really didn’t endear the fawning most women heaped open the town’s notorious womaniser. Surely such a smooth operator should be reviled by the female populace, not revered. “Take these shirts to the back,” she ordered, piling the woman’s arms high with the garments.
“Oh, right, of course,” Kimiko breathed, darting one last longing look at the author.
Fixing her best polite smile on her face, Sango smoothed out the wrinkles of her pencil skirt and strode across the room to her notorious customer. He looked up from the charcoal suit he was perusing as he approached and smiled widely at her.
Sango tensed as the violet gaze flickered to her breasts, but she was somewhat mollified when he seemed to merely read the name tag pinned to the material above her left breast.
“Sango-chan,” he said warmly, spreading his arms wide and greeting her as if she was an old friend instead of a shop owner he’d never met before.
“Watanabe-san,” she acknowledged, sketching a token bow that was polite but not in the least subservient. “Can I be of any assistance?”
“Ah, you know me,” he seemed both pleased and amused by that fact. “Is it naive to hope that it is my reputation as a brilliant writer that has preceded me?” he asked, eyes twinkling knowingly.
“It was mentioned,” she allowed, “but I am not one to speculate on idle gossip, Watanabe-san.”
Sensual lips quirked at her handling of the situation. “I can assure you, Sango-chan, that most everything you have heard about me is fabricated out of jealousy of my charming looks and talent,” he hummed, smiling a teasing smile at the highly pulled-together woman.
“I am sure,” she said, her professional smile and steely tone leaving Miroku with no doubt that she didn’t believe him in the least.
Flashing a crooked smile, Miroku ploughed on, “Any expertise you can offer would be appreciated. I find myself in a jungle without a guide,” he gestured at his yukata, “Western clothing is not my forte.”
“What is the occasion?” Sango asked distantly, already cataloguing the suits in the store in her mind, assessing which would suit the man with an experienced eye.
“A close friend is getting married tomorrow, his bride insists on a western ceremony and that I attempt to fit in,” Miroku expounded as he followed Sango through the shop. He had to admit, he truly basked in being able to trail behind the buxom beauty. Her hips swayed enticingly as she walked and he unashamedly gawked at her pert bottom in the form-fitting navy skirt.
Having never paid patronage to the store before, he’d been unaware that the garment shop was owned by such a beauty. Long shiny brown hair was caught up in a sleek samurai-tail and her severe fringe complemented her pale complexion and aristocratic cheekbones. Her doe-brown eyes were wide and filled with a tempting fire. He had a feeling he’d be paying this store a repeat visit.
Sango helped Miroku pick out a selection of suits and led her patron to the changing rooms at the back of the store.
“I think this one suits the occasion. Understated and classy,” Sango recommended in her cool dealing-with-customer tone. “And this one,” she indicated a charcoal suit, “suits you splendidly.”
“Well,” Miroku took the first suit from Sango, “I think I’ll start off with this one.”
“Of course,” she bowed and pushed the changing room door open for Miroku.
With a jaunty wink, Miroku strode into the changing room and shut the door behind him. The rustle of clothes from the other side of the door was a little distracting to Sango. And even though she knew she shouldn’t be thinking about a customer in that way - especially this customer - she couldn’t help but wonder about the toned body under the yukata. She’d heard some very flattering stories about the man’s physique.
“Ahem,” Miroku sounded rueful, “I think I’ll need this jacket in a larger size.”
With a quick quirk of her lips, Sango said, “I’ll get that for you.” She’d recommended a larger size, feeling that the man who was very used to wearing loose yukata would feel more comfortable in a slightly larger size.
Moments later, a highly efficient Sango tapped on the changing room door with her knuckles lightly. The door opened a crack, and a large hand claimed the jacket from her. Sango tensed as he dragged his thumb leisurely across her knuckles before claiming the jacket. She was irked that he was using his attractiveness to take such liberties with her. That caress had been no accident.
“Aa ah,” Miroku sighed, “yes, I think, Sango-chan, that I’ll have to go with the other suit that you said would suit me.”
“Of course,” Sango murmured, spinning on her heel and walking away to fetch the charcoal suit. Taking it from the hanger, Sango turned to find Kimiko and some of the other girls edging over to the changing room. Sango sighed in an exasperated huff, he wasn’t an animal in a zoo and he certainly wasn’t that fascinating. Did they really need to become so juvenile? Was he really so suave?
“Ladies,” Sango admonished, “I believe that there are other customers who need to be served. Perhaps we could remember that we are working.”
The women appeared sheepish as they dispersed. Though one was bold enough to whisper, “Owner-san just wants him to herself.”
Shaking her head at their wilful antics, Sango continued to the changing room and knocked again.
Unfortunately, Miroku hadn’t locked the changing room door and so the slight tap of her knuckles made the door swing inwards. Shocked eyes took in his strong sinewy back and tanned lightly muscled chest before her gaze dropped bashfully. With a speed fuelled by her embarrassment, she turned her back on him.
The chuckle from behind her was unashamed and sensual. Sango’s shoulders tensed as Miroku’s strong arm draped over one of her shoulders and prised the suit from her grip. “Thank you, Sango-chan,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath on the nape of her neck caused her to shiver almost imperceptibly. But Miroku’s astute gaze caught it nonetheless.
Sango cleared her throat. “I apologise, Watanabe-san.”
“Oh, don’t apologise, Sango-chan,” he demurred, tugging lightly on her ponytail, “I am not shy.”
Sango marched away stiffly, retreating behind the counter to collect herself. She was not a teenager. She was a mature, responsible woman. She could handle seeing a naked man. And Miroku had most certainly been naked; apparently he didn’t wear underwear under his yukata. Her cheeks flamed brilliantly.
It had been a while since she had laid eyes on such a fine specimen of a man. Damn her hormones.
The changing room door opened and Miroku grinned at how panicked she was when she turned to look at him. When she saw him in the suit she appeared to calm down considerably, her shoulders relaxing somewhat.
“This suit is perfect,” he told her happily, hoping to soothe some of her tension. “I need a tie, though. Would you pick one out for me, Sango-chan.” He flashed a sure grin. “I think I’ll have to trust your better judgement.”
Flatterer, she mused wryly as she wandered off to retrieve a tie that would compliment his suit.
Miroku followed with a slight smile on his face. “Are you always this professional, Sango-chan?”
She flicked him a sidelong glance. “I am working, Watanabe-san.”
“I can see that,” he mused as he watched her hold two ties up to his shirt and tilt her head to one side. “And you are admirably professional whilst doing so,” he demurred, “I think I will be coming here next time I need a Western ensemble.”
A genuine smile played on Sango’s lips. “Thank you.”
Violet eyes twinkled as Miroku took in the genuine smile. This woman obviously loved her store. This smile and the bashful retreat from the changing room earlier drew Miroku to the woman inexorably. Used to being fawned over, this woman was a striking anomaly.
She was sensuality encased in an iron shell. He’d already had a peek at the feminine woman beneath her professional facade. It made him hungry for more.
0-0-0
Sango picked up the suit Miroku had ordered alterations on. Carrying it through to the back room, she started when a card fell out of the pocket.
Bending to retrieve it, she couldn’t help but gasp.
Watanabe Miroku
04XX-XXXXX
I showed you mine...
Author: aimee_blue
Prompt: Clothing
Words: 1,680
Rating: T
Summary: AU. Appearances can be deceiving... or not.
Easily navigating the store she knew like the back of her hand, Sango carried the neatly folded pile of shirts that the store had just embroidered with the logo of the restaurant three streets away. The pile was high enough that she had a hard time seeing over the top of it but her footfalls were sure as she made it to the counter. Packaging the shirts into the addressed box, Sango was bemused to find the new part-timer giggling childishly.
Curiously, she followed the woman’s line of sight and noticed an affably handsome male perusing the suits over by the window. Rakishly long inky hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck and his violet eyes sparkled mischievously as he perused their selection of clothes. Normally not one for suits, the male was wearing a casual light blue yukata, the geta on his feet clicking rhythmically with each step he took.
Sango pursed her lips. She knew this man. Who didn’t? He was Watanabe Miroku; a famous author who lived in town with a rather infamous reputation for being a charmer and a womaniser. If you listened to gossip, he’d bedded most women in town, had a smile that would make anybody melt into a pile of goo and could charm his way out of a prison cell.
“Kimiko-san,” Sango murmured reproachfully, “shouldn’t you be helping our customer?” Sango gestured at Miroku exasperatedly.
Kimiko’s eyes grew large and a blush tinted her cheeks rosy. “Sango-san! I um... well, I was-”
“Admiring him from afar?” Sango asked caustically. She really didn’t endear the fawning most women heaped open the town’s notorious womaniser. Surely such a smooth operator should be reviled by the female populace, not revered. “Take these shirts to the back,” she ordered, piling the woman’s arms high with the garments.
“Oh, right, of course,” Kimiko breathed, darting one last longing look at the author.
Fixing her best polite smile on her face, Sango smoothed out the wrinkles of her pencil skirt and strode across the room to her notorious customer. He looked up from the charcoal suit he was perusing as he approached and smiled widely at her.
Sango tensed as the violet gaze flickered to her breasts, but she was somewhat mollified when he seemed to merely read the name tag pinned to the material above her left breast.
“Sango-chan,” he said warmly, spreading his arms wide and greeting her as if she was an old friend instead of a shop owner he’d never met before.
“Watanabe-san,” she acknowledged, sketching a token bow that was polite but not in the least subservient. “Can I be of any assistance?”
“Ah, you know me,” he seemed both pleased and amused by that fact. “Is it naive to hope that it is my reputation as a brilliant writer that has preceded me?” he asked, eyes twinkling knowingly.
“It was mentioned,” she allowed, “but I am not one to speculate on idle gossip, Watanabe-san.”
Sensual lips quirked at her handling of the situation. “I can assure you, Sango-chan, that most everything you have heard about me is fabricated out of jealousy of my charming looks and talent,” he hummed, smiling a teasing smile at the highly pulled-together woman.
“I am sure,” she said, her professional smile and steely tone leaving Miroku with no doubt that she didn’t believe him in the least.
Flashing a crooked smile, Miroku ploughed on, “Any expertise you can offer would be appreciated. I find myself in a jungle without a guide,” he gestured at his yukata, “Western clothing is not my forte.”
“What is the occasion?” Sango asked distantly, already cataloguing the suits in the store in her mind, assessing which would suit the man with an experienced eye.
“A close friend is getting married tomorrow, his bride insists on a western ceremony and that I attempt to fit in,” Miroku expounded as he followed Sango through the shop. He had to admit, he truly basked in being able to trail behind the buxom beauty. Her hips swayed enticingly as she walked and he unashamedly gawked at her pert bottom in the form-fitting navy skirt.
Having never paid patronage to the store before, he’d been unaware that the garment shop was owned by such a beauty. Long shiny brown hair was caught up in a sleek samurai-tail and her severe fringe complemented her pale complexion and aristocratic cheekbones. Her doe-brown eyes were wide and filled with a tempting fire. He had a feeling he’d be paying this store a repeat visit.
Sango helped Miroku pick out a selection of suits and led her patron to the changing rooms at the back of the store.
“I think this one suits the occasion. Understated and classy,” Sango recommended in her cool dealing-with-customer tone. “And this one,” she indicated a charcoal suit, “suits you splendidly.”
“Well,” Miroku took the first suit from Sango, “I think I’ll start off with this one.”
“Of course,” she bowed and pushed the changing room door open for Miroku.
With a jaunty wink, Miroku strode into the changing room and shut the door behind him. The rustle of clothes from the other side of the door was a little distracting to Sango. And even though she knew she shouldn’t be thinking about a customer in that way - especially this customer - she couldn’t help but wonder about the toned body under the yukata. She’d heard some very flattering stories about the man’s physique.
“Ahem,” Miroku sounded rueful, “I think I’ll need this jacket in a larger size.”
With a quick quirk of her lips, Sango said, “I’ll get that for you.” She’d recommended a larger size, feeling that the man who was very used to wearing loose yukata would feel more comfortable in a slightly larger size.
Moments later, a highly efficient Sango tapped on the changing room door with her knuckles lightly. The door opened a crack, and a large hand claimed the jacket from her. Sango tensed as he dragged his thumb leisurely across her knuckles before claiming the jacket. She was irked that he was using his attractiveness to take such liberties with her. That caress had been no accident.
“Aa ah,” Miroku sighed, “yes, I think, Sango-chan, that I’ll have to go with the other suit that you said would suit me.”
“Of course,” Sango murmured, spinning on her heel and walking away to fetch the charcoal suit. Taking it from the hanger, Sango turned to find Kimiko and some of the other girls edging over to the changing room. Sango sighed in an exasperated huff, he wasn’t an animal in a zoo and he certainly wasn’t that fascinating. Did they really need to become so juvenile? Was he really so suave?
“Ladies,” Sango admonished, “I believe that there are other customers who need to be served. Perhaps we could remember that we are working.”
The women appeared sheepish as they dispersed. Though one was bold enough to whisper, “Owner-san just wants him to herself.”
Shaking her head at their wilful antics, Sango continued to the changing room and knocked again.
Unfortunately, Miroku hadn’t locked the changing room door and so the slight tap of her knuckles made the door swing inwards. Shocked eyes took in his strong sinewy back and tanned lightly muscled chest before her gaze dropped bashfully. With a speed fuelled by her embarrassment, she turned her back on him.
The chuckle from behind her was unashamed and sensual. Sango’s shoulders tensed as Miroku’s strong arm draped over one of her shoulders and prised the suit from her grip. “Thank you, Sango-chan,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath on the nape of her neck caused her to shiver almost imperceptibly. But Miroku’s astute gaze caught it nonetheless.
Sango cleared her throat. “I apologise, Watanabe-san.”
“Oh, don’t apologise, Sango-chan,” he demurred, tugging lightly on her ponytail, “I am not shy.”
Sango marched away stiffly, retreating behind the counter to collect herself. She was not a teenager. She was a mature, responsible woman. She could handle seeing a naked man. And Miroku had most certainly been naked; apparently he didn’t wear underwear under his yukata. Her cheeks flamed brilliantly.
It had been a while since she had laid eyes on such a fine specimen of a man. Damn her hormones.
The changing room door opened and Miroku grinned at how panicked she was when she turned to look at him. When she saw him in the suit she appeared to calm down considerably, her shoulders relaxing somewhat.
“This suit is perfect,” he told her happily, hoping to soothe some of her tension. “I need a tie, though. Would you pick one out for me, Sango-chan.” He flashed a sure grin. “I think I’ll have to trust your better judgement.”
Flatterer, she mused wryly as she wandered off to retrieve a tie that would compliment his suit.
Miroku followed with a slight smile on his face. “Are you always this professional, Sango-chan?”
She flicked him a sidelong glance. “I am working, Watanabe-san.”
“I can see that,” he mused as he watched her hold two ties up to his shirt and tilt her head to one side. “And you are admirably professional whilst doing so,” he demurred, “I think I will be coming here next time I need a Western ensemble.”
A genuine smile played on Sango’s lips. “Thank you.”
Violet eyes twinkled as Miroku took in the genuine smile. This woman obviously loved her store. This smile and the bashful retreat from the changing room earlier drew Miroku to the woman inexorably. Used to being fawned over, this woman was a striking anomaly.
She was sensuality encased in an iron shell. He’d already had a peek at the feminine woman beneath her professional facade. It made him hungry for more.
0-0-0
Sango picked up the suit Miroku had ordered alterations on. Carrying it through to the back room, she started when a card fell out of the pocket.
Bending to retrieve it, she couldn’t help but gasp.
Watanabe Miroku
04XX-XXXXX
I showed you mine...