Soubrette Chapter 7 Nick was happy playing the system, unemployed and unemployable but it had to end some time.

Chapter Seven

Isabel promised to make tea as I retrieved my sewing kit, and she was as good as her word setting the cup down where I could reach it while I sewed.

Most of the repairs were relatively minor tears, or simply stitching come undone. A few more significant jobs I would have to take home, and one or two were beyond my capabilities to fix. The latter I set aside as they would provide a useful source of fabric for patches. Some of the garments had obviously been repaired before, but the quality of work was so shoddy I unpicked the stitching and did them over.

Isabel and I chatted as I worked except when there were customers, to whom she told outrageous lies to explain my tied ankles. All of which made me blush furiously, but I made no complaints, as she accompanied all of them with a theatrical wink.

Shortly before eleven o’clock Janice told us there was a lady coming to the shop, who could be very important for the future of Soubrette. She specifically instructed Isabel not to tell her that I was a sissy expelled from borstal for corrupting guards, or a novice nun excommunicated by Pope when my sexual depravity was discovered. This was a pity as I’d enjoyed the customers’ reaction to the latter, especially when Isabel told them I had subsequently been thrown out of the seminary as insufficiently depraved. I had even added my own suggestive leer to the last retelling of this tale.

Mrs. Armstrong arrived promptly at twelve, carrying the Town Hall clock’s chimes with her through the door. She was a woman of middling years, striking where she had once been beautiful, and immaculately dressed in a tailored navy blue suit that needed no designer's label to prove its quality.

Janice, who had been waiting on the shop's door bell, sprang around the counter and stood in a welcoming posture. Meanwhile Isabel helped me set aside the pirate costume I was working on. She looked deadly serious, and I couldn't resist wiggling my finger through the torn gusset. She stifled a giggle, and her arm snaked around my waist. 'Behave yourself,' Isabel hissed, squeezing me as I stood.

'Of course, the uniform will not do,' Mrs Armstrong said, casting and appraising eye from shoes to wig. 'How long will it take you to source a replacement?'

Janice looked flummoxed, so I quickly volunteered, 'I could probably make one in a couple of days if I had fabric.'

'Your stitching looks very good,' Mrs Armstrong said, lifting one of my completed repairs from the counter. 'I preferred the shorter hair shown on the website,' she said, turning my face by the chin. 'Very pretty,' she added absently, 'of course you'll need more practical shoes than those.' Mrs Armstrong wasn't wrong, only Isabel's arm around my waist kept me standing upright.

'Calm down, I can feel your heart racing,' Isabel whispered in my ear.

'Sorry,' I quietly replied, unconsciously pressing closer to her.

'You are scrumptious when you're nervous,' Isabel answered, tickling me gently until I giggled.

'Sank yoo, Madamoiselle Isabel,' I said in my shaky French accent, and kissed her on the cheek.

'The grown-ups aren't paying us any attention.' Isobel had both arms around my waist, pulling me closer. Over her shoulder I could see Janice and Mrs Armstrong had moved to the doorway. With a sense of relief, I left my forehead fall on Isabel's shoulder. 'Kiss me properly,' Isabel whispered in my ear.

Still giggling softly, I raised my head far enough to find her lips. 'Good girl,' Isabel whispered, 'I'll tell you when to stop.' Inevitably her hands had moved from my waist to my bottom. Isabel was at least consistent.

My eyes sprang open when the doorbell rang again - damn, I was an eyes closed kisser. Mrs Armstrong had left, and Janice was bearing down on Isabel and I. 'Break it up, you two,' she said briskly, 'we've got shopping to do.'

'Now?' I said weakly, only half aware that I was still in Isabel's arms.

'Yes now, Missy!'

'But it's lunchtime,' I protested, 'and I'm dressed as a stripper.'

'You will be okay,' Isobel said, unwinding her arms from my body.

'Where are we going?' I asked, already heading for the door after Janice. And forgetting about my tied ankles.

'Easy, Tiger!' Fortunately, Isabel was only inches away, catching me easily. 'Hug?' Isabel asked, and I gratefully wrapped my arms around her. 'I knew we'd be friends,' were her only words as she drew me close.

'First of all, let's get you a pair of sensible shoes.' Janice was a leading me along a pavement filled with lunch time shoppers. Seemingly completely oblivious to these stares we were getting.

'There's Budget Shoe over there,' I almost shouted, eager to leave the busy street.

'I'm not sending you to Mrs Armstrong in cheap shoes,' Janice barked, yanking me along towards a more expensive shop for farther down the street.

'It's all right she only dresses like this for work,' Janice told the bemused assistant as we entered, 'do you have a black court shoe with a 1 inch heel, in a 5?'

'We certainly do, if you'll just take a seat.'

Easing myself onto the chair he'd indicated, I had a good look at the other customers. It seemed only right, as they were all taking a good look at me.

'Size 5 wasn't it?' The assistant had reappeared under an armful of boxes. I nodded my assent as he settled at my feet, and began removing my right shoe.

This level of service was completely new to me, and I didn't know if I should look at him or not. As a compromise I sneaked looks at him while pretending to gaze into the distance. There's only so much information you can gather about someone you're fairly sure is staring at your panties. And my feet tickled, as he fitted one pair of shoes, and then another. He was the young, and according to his name badge answered to 'Mark'.

'How does that feel?'

'All right I suppose,' I said, tentatively putting my weight onto my right foot. It was certainly comfortable, a square toed style in high-quality black leather.

'I'm surprised the narrow fitting is comfortable, men usually…' Mark left his sentence unfinished, but continued to look at my legs.

'We'll take them,' Janice said, tearing his attention from my calves.

'I can't believe that we spent so much on wonder her shoes,' I said as Janice dragged me out onto the pavement.

'Mrs Armstrong will pick up the bill,' Janice said over her shoulder. 'Will Fabric Land have what we need?'

'It should have, but…'. I knew that the shop would have everything, it was where I bought all my sewing supplies. Nick was well known there, and I really didn't want the staff to see me in my working clothes. However, Janice ignored my reticence, dragging me across the road and through the door.

'There's some lightweight black gabardine over here,' I said, pulling Janice to the back of the shop. 'It's very hard wearing, just the thing for a maid's uniform.'

Janice looked uncomprehendingly at me saying, 'it's all Greek to me, but we need enough for two uniforms… Oh and aprons too.'

'There should be white calico in the next aisle,' I said, drawing the bolt of fabric from the rack. My aunt first introduced me to the shop, one summer when I stayed there for the holidays. The atmosphere was so familiar, I could feel myself relaxing by the second. Then someone laid a hand on my shoulder.

'It's Verity Parsons isn't it?' Turning, I found myself almost face to face with Mrs George, the owner.

'How did you know?' I stammered.

'Your aunt always spoke of her pretty niece, but we never thought we'd get to see her.' Mrs George smiled warmly, and beckoned over the assistant at the till. 'You'll never guess who is here,' she called out.

'But Nick has been coming here every week, and you've never said anything.' My cheeks were blazing.

'Your aunt, lovely woman that she was, told us you'd be embarrassed, and never to mention it to you.' By now Mrs George was hugging me, and clapping my back.

'Julie's going to be sick,' laughed the newly arrived assistant. Seeing my look of bewilderment she added, 'she's had a crush on Nick for ages, and didn't believe that you were gay.'

'I'm not,' I said, but my denial was lost in the hubbub.

'We need enough of this to make two maid's uniforms,' Janice shouted, and pointed at the roll of fabric.

'Proper ones, for cleaning in,' I said, struggling to escape Mrs George's bear hug.

'I hope you didn't make this one, it's very shoddy,' she joked.

'And slutty,' added the assistant, 'I can see your knickers.'

'Everyone can,' I admitted, 'but the new uniform will be kneelength, without any frills.' I looked and Janice for confirmation, which he gave with a nod.

And the checkout Janice paid for everything, leaving me to pack away everything, with Mrs George's able assistance.

'Your aunt was very proud of you,' she said, 'she would always bring in things her niece had sewn to show us. She was a lovely woman.'

Choking back, tears I followed Janice back to Soubrette. I still missed Aunt Fenn, and couldn't help wondering what she'd think about my current job. It was a long way from art restoration, but at least I was sewing.

'What has she done to you?' Isabel threw her arms around me, giving Janice a poisonous look.

'Nothing,' I sniffed, 'it's just…'. I mumbled the rest of my sentence into Isabel's shoulder, while she gently stroked my back.

'Don't cry, kitten,' she said soothingly, 'why don't you sit down, and tell me all about it.'

'Sank yoo, Madamoiselle Isabel,' I murmured, turning to kiss her on the lips, my eyes already closed.

To my horror, my lips met an open mouth. Don't panic, I told myself, she'll probably close her lips as we kiss. I kept repeating this in my head right up until the tip of Isabel's tongue met my lips.

Anything but acquiescence that this point would seem like a rebuttal, I thought. And we'd been getting along so well. Damning my own eyes, I felt Isabel's tongue glide into my mouth.

Isabel instantly drew me closer, my body pressed against hers, while I decided what to do. Keeping my tongue out of the way seemed like a good plan. Or at least it would have, if Isabel's hadn't been so freely exploring my mouth.

The kiss seemed to go on interminably, until Isabel broke it off. 'Well that was unexpected,' she said, coyly, her arms still around my waist.

'It wasn't planned,' I blurted out.

'Of course it wasn't.' Isobel pressed her for forehead against mine, and murmured, 'the best kisses never are.'

My answer was just a series of an unintelligible noises as I pulled myself three from Isabel's embrace. The majority of my blood supply, I was sure resided in my face, as I grappled with what had happened. I didn't really enjoy it, did I?

Sorry for the long wait, and apologies for the shocking formatting :)