by Lissa Kasey
That’s amazing, I sent to him.
Another picture appeared. This one a selfie of Micah, standing in front of a mirror, in what I thought was his closet, dressed in a Wonder Woman type outfit. Instead of a skirt he wore super tight hot pants that outlined everything, while showing nothing. The pants were a mix of golds, blues, and reds, made to look feminine, sexy, but leaving a lot to the imagination. Was his ass always that tight or had the fabric added shape?
Wow! I wrote back, adding the matching emoji, giant heart eyes bulging.
Another picture, this one a very suggestive pose hinting at naughty things as he bent forward and glanced back to take the picture, like pinups of old. My cock hardened and my stomach did a somersault of need.
Started it a couple months ago. Finished it today.
Was this the sort of thing he’d done before he started porn? Outfits and photos that were on the edge of sexy? Fuck.
I’m giving you the happy high five. I wrote him.
He sent the laughing emoji.
Seriously though, you look amazing. And happy, I thought, studying his expression. Sure, in the second one he was posing with a wink and an exaggerated purse of his lips, but the first one looked like he had a little smile on his lips. Do you have more like this? Stuff for you that you haven’t finished?
Sure, he wrote back. I get stuck sometimes. Couldn’t figure out how to finish off this one until I was working on your kilt this morning…
Hot damn your ass is fine in gold lamè.
He sent back a blushing emoji.
If sewing for me inspired him, I’d have to make sure he had more to keep him busy. I found a section in the back that had fabrics piled up, a mess of stuff really, but a few fun and vintage prints.
“Do you want a shopping bag?” A female voice startled me since I’d been so intent on the fabric. I glanced her way, surprised that it was a different woman than before. This one was younger and blond, dressed in jeans and a flowery top. She motioned to the pile of clothing tucked under my arm. She held out a mesh bag for me.
“Thanks,” I said, putting the stuff in the bag and slinging it over my shoulder.
“Need help finding anything?”
“Oh, no, thank you. Your other employee already pointed me in the right direction,” I assured her and went back to digging through the fabrics. She appeared confused for a minute before walking back to the counter.
I found a couple of neat prints, some with Halloween stuff on them, that I grabbed before heading to the front. The woman rang me up and I was surprised that the whole batch barely cost me forty bucks. Three pairs of slacks, four cargo pants, a half dozen pair of shorts, and five T-shirts, plus three hanks of fabric. I even bought a reusable tote so I wasn’t adding to the whole environmental plastic bag issue.
“Thank that other girl for me, will you?” I said looking around for her. “I’m normally intimidated by shopping for clothing, but she showed me right to the correct rack.”
“What other girl?” The girl at the register asked. Her nametag read “Eleanor.”
“The gal in the seventies clothes? She met me at the door? Long dark hair?”
Eleanor gaped at me. “I’m the only one working today.”
I frowned. “No. I saw that other girl. Maybe she was a nice shopper?”
“You’re my first customer today.” She pointed to the clock and the hours posted on the wall. The store had been open less than a half an hour.
“Um…”
“I’ve heard of people seeing the ghost, but never so vividly they thought she was real,” Eleanor said.
“That was not a ghost,” I said. “I talked to her, she answered.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know who else it could be.”
Fuck. I looked around the store, even did a full walk-through, searching the single bathroom and glancing in the tiny backroom. No one. The cashier watched me like I was nuts and she was waiting for a reason to call the cops on me. But the other girl was nowhere to be found.
I took my purchases, thanked the cashier and made my way out of the store still looking for the other woman. Maybe it was a hoax to try to draw more people in. Could she have darted out without me seeing her? Why go through the trouble? And what if I was seeing full body apparitions now?
Had a ghost help me pick out clothes, I wrote to Micah.
He sent back a question mark.
Long story. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel. Afraid? Not really. She didn’t seem menacing. There had been no shadows or skin prickles. I hadn’t felt anything different at all. Except calm. As soon as she had smiled at me, my anxiety about shopping had eased. Well fuck.
I headed out of the shop and made my way down Ursulines, avoiding the LaLaurie mansion, but stopping outside the church to admire the architecture for a minute.
You can come over if you want. Micah sent me.
My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to race to his house and check on him, but knew I had to tread carefully. I should wash this stuff.
You can use my washer.
I smiled. Sure. Have you eaten? I can bring food. Because Micah didn’t keep food in his house.
Ate the last of my eggs last night. Food would be good. There’s a small grocery on Bourbon and Canal near the back of the church, right past Walgreens.
I google mapped Walgreens to point me in the right direction. Okay, let me get food and I’ll head your way.
Hanging with Micah seemed like a better way to spend the day than reading alone. I ran into the Walgreens and got a package of boxer-briefs in my size, now that I knew my size, then found the grocery and filled up on stuff that looked good, while avoiding dairy, as I recalled Micah saying he was allergic. I sent him pictures of random foods with funny names.
Butt rub. A spice mix for ribs.
Cock flavored. A type of soup.
Cream between. Oreo-like generic cookies.
OMG! He wrote back. You’re such a perv.
It’s just food, I sent back adding a picture of Crunchy Nut Balls to the mix. Are you hungry for some balls? Not my fault if you’re thinking of sex. I got the laughing emoji back in reply which made me smile.
Chapter 21
Of course not having thought ahead, meant I had a half dozen bags and was dying by the time I got to Micah’s door. He opened it before I could ring the bell and took some bags from me.
“Thanks. I thought my arms were going to fall off.”
Micah spread everything out on the futon and small counter space. While I was sad to see he was no longer in the Wonder Woman outfit, his shorts and snug T-shirt didn’t lessen his appeal at all. I stepped close and grabbed him for a hug. He relaxed into my embrace and kissed me lightly on the lips before letting go so we could unpack.
“I got stuff for sandwiches. Read all the ingredients. Made sure there was no dairy.” I helped sort the groceries into an assembly line for food and built a sandwich. “Wasn’t sure what you liked so I got a little bit of everything I like.” Including avocado, mustard, and bean sprouts. My sandwich was almost two inches thick by the time I put the top on it.
Micah’s wasn’t much different than mine, though he left off the mustard. We ate in relative silence, sitting on the futon, while he sorted through my clothes, and I told him about the ghost sales clerk.
“I’ve never heard of them making up stories to draw people in,” Micah said.
“She talked to me, pointed me in the direction of the racks and the dressing area. I thought she was real since she didn’t look see-through or anything. It wasn’t some passing by of a specter. She smiled and I was calm. Like magic.”
“Maybe her energy was stronger than most, or maybe someone was playing a hoax on you. Though I don’t know why they’d waste that sort of energy on hoaxing anyone. I shop there pretty regularly. Upcycle a lot of their older pieces. They seem to be doing okay financially.” He found the fabrics and ran his hands over them.
“I thought they looked nice,” I said. “
Don’t know if there’s something you can do with them.” One of them sort of looked like alligator skin, though it smelled like vinyl. The pattern was too regular to be the real thing, but the effect was cool. I’d been attracted to the shiny black iridescent effect of the design.
“We’ll think of something.” He got up and began putting my stuff in his little washer. I was surprised at how much actually fit. “It’s thorough but takes a while,” Micah said. “Laundry usually takes me all day.”
I finished my sandwich and picked up Micah’s empty plate too, taking them to the kitchen and washing them. He didn’t have a dishwasher, but since he lived alone, that made sense. He did have a small drying rack which he pulled out of the cupboard and set beside the sink.
“You still working on stuff?” I asked.
“Yes. I need to measure your waist to get your kilt the right size. I really don’t have any plans other than working on a few projects today. Sorry I’m so boring.”
I laughed. “Um, I’d rather watch you sew than shop with ghosts again. It makes me wonder how many ghosts I’ve passed by in the street and thought were regular people.”
“I still can’t believe that. I’ve been in there easily a hundred times. What did she look like?”
“Girl from the seventies with long brown hair. I thought she was simply doing the retro thing really well.”
He shook his head. “Never seen her. You really must be a magnet for weird.”
I gave him narrowed, suspicious eyes. “Good thing you like weird.”
He grinned. “I am weird,” he said and headed toward the loft. I followed, bringing the new fabric with. In the loft, Jet was curled in his bed, the sewing machine setup sat in the middle of the floor space, and a long white plastic sort of cutting mat lay sprawled near the machine. I found my way to a cushion beside Jet that felt a bit like a beanbag chair. Micah dug through a drawer until he pulled out a measuring tape, then came over and wrapped it around my waist. He wrote some number down on a little piece of paper next to his machine.
“Oh, here’s that fabric we got yesterday.” He unfolded the bit of fabric with the dragons and it took a minute for me to figure out what it was. It looked like a pillow case, with drawstrings on the end. “It can double as an overnight bag. Carry your clothes and your pillow.” Micah’s cheeks turned pink. “For when you want to stay over.”
I grinned at him and took the case, examining it. “This is great!” And I knew where he kept extra pillows. I crawled to the chest and dug through the stack of quilts until I found a spare pillow, then stuffed it into the case. A perfect fit.
“Pillow cases only take ten minutes or so to make,” Micah said, again dismissing his skill and creativity. “I wanted to make something you could use.”
I leaned over until I could brush my lips across his cheek and said, “Thank you. I love it.” I curled up around the pillow in my new pillow case and watched him sew.
He was very focused, turning and cutting or pinning something over the mat, then back to the machine to run a line of thread. He changed colors easily, the rough outline of the kilt coming together until he finished up a final stitch and held it up for me. He had used the leather looking material we had picked up yesterday. The tiny hexagons made the fabric look expensive and very custom. The folds of the fabric opened to reveal the design, like the intricate folds of a wing of some fictional beast. The multi-colored sections between shimmered iridescent with scales more defined than the mermaid patterns I’d seen him use. I was in love and hadn’t even gotten to touch it yet.
“Nice. Can I wear it already? Or does it need to be washed first?”
“I prewashed the fabric before cutting. Try it on so I can make sure I got the waist and length right. It should fall right above the knee.”
I took it expecting it to be heavy only it wasn’t, feeling more like a pair of shorts than the leather look of the fabric. I slipped off my shorts and slid the kilt on over my boxers. It zipped shut, and fit perfectly, resting on my hips, not pulling down, even though the weight of the fabric kept it draped. I swung my hips, testing how it felt.
“I thought you said you were going to wear that the right way?” Micah said, staring at me, brow raised.
“Oh, right,” I said, and shoved my boxers off. I expected it to be weird or that I wouldn’t like the fabric around my cock, or that I’d feel a substantial breeze, but even wiggling my hips around, other than feeling ‘free’ and loose, it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation.
Micah fiddled with the hem of the kilt, frowning at it for a minute.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I like it the way it is, remove your frowny face.”
“The hem is a little crooked.”
“Who else is going to be on their knees at my feet to notice?”
His cheeks turned pink. It was a look I was really starting to love on him. I pulled my kilt out of his grasp and returned to my little chair. “Carry on,” I waved a hand at him. “Don’t mind me. I’m going to lounge in my new kilt on my new pillow case and watch the magic happen.”
He glanced my way, studying me a minute before digging out the next project. I didn’t ask. He didn’t offer explanations, though the tension in his shoulders eased the longer I sat there. He actually began to cut the vinyl piece I gave him into squares. I watched him change the needle and find a dark thread that looked really thick.
“Will you start modeling again? Those cosplay pictures, I mean.”
“Maybe,” Micah said absently. “I’d have to find a new photographer. My old one was in Dublin.” His tone had a tiny lilt to it when he said Dublin. The first touch of accent I’d heard from him. It was adorable.
“I think you should. If it makes you happy.”
“Maybe. I like making the clothes, but really didn’t like looking at the pictures, though they were well done. We are always the most critical of ourselves and I could find a million flaws in a glance. But I had a pretty big following.”
“I’d follow you anywhere,” I admitted.
He gave me a chagrined smile.
“Not lying,” I said, nestling myself into the cushion. “Even if it sounds cheesy. I’m fascinated. Can’t wait to see what you design next. There’s a whole lot of magic in your head. I don’t know if you understand how amazing that is.”
He ignored my praise and went back to his crafting. Again it was a bit like magic watching him work.
“Is there a method to your madness?” I asked. “You make certain things when you’re in a particular mood?” Right now he looked calm, almost at peace.
“When I need a distraction, I work on more complicated projects, like cosplay, or designing a new pattern. Those things require a lot of focus and concentration, no real time to think about something other than the project. When I quilt or craft it’s more to think. I’ve done so many quilts, bags, boxers, and other basics that they are sort of mindless repetition. Something to lose myself in the motion while my brain wanders a thousand puzzles.”
And somehow that all made perfect sense. The nighttime frenzy of costume making in response to noises in the dark, and daylight crafting for reflection. He was beyond fascinating.
“Today you’re in craft mode. Thinking?” I said.
He nodded. “My brain is loud.” He glanced at me. “I don’t know if everyone’s brain is loud, but mine is always thinking, talking, analyzing. It’s exhausting. This…” he motioned to his sewing, “seems to slow it down a little.”
I had no idea what he was making, it was simply pieces of black vinyl and thread. Then it started to come together as a large tote bag. By the time I watched him sew in the lining and add the handles, I gaped at it. The bag looked like something you’d find in a high-end catalog for over a grand. It wasn’t a purse so much as an open-top tote big enough for a computer and a bunch of books. He added a little key fob to the side, and a large wooden button to the front as a latch before stopping to examine it then passing it my way.
“Um…” I said,
floored by his ease and talent to make something amazing out of very little. Completed in less than an hour out of a fabric hank I’d spent no more than ten bucks on. No pattern necessary.
“It’s a simple pattern, but with the right fabric can look really unique and high end,” Micah said. “You seem to need a bag to carry your books and stuff, maybe some extra clothes.” He flushed. “More than a silly dragon pillowcase. I was thinking more fun than practical with that.”
I hugged the pillowcase. “I love the pillowcase and the bag. Wow, fuck, you are like magic or something.”
He waved a hand at me, then went to another drawer and began pulling out rolls of what looked like cut strips of fabric wound into a cake-like shape. “Pick one.”
“Okay?”
“One roll turns into a blanket,” he explained.
Oh. “That simple, eh?”
He gave me a wry grin. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but you don’t need to worry about the details. Pick some colors you like. I don’t have a specific project I need to work on right now, so this is something small to help clear my head.”
That worried me. “Anything I can do?” I prodded, hoping maybe to ease his need for distraction a little.
He shook his head. “Pick a jelly roll so I have something to focus on while I’m sorting things out. Think of it like Tetris. The pieces drop and I have to find places for them. Sometimes I have enough room to fit things together to make it vanish, other times it comes too fast and I get backed up.” He gave me a side eye. “I’m a little backed up. Mentally speaking.”
I grinned at him. “Glad you cleared that up.” I chose a roll that looked like a mix of green, brown, orange, and yellow. It made me think of leaves. He picked it up and began pulling it apart into long strips and sorting it into sections six strips at a time. “You’d tell me if there was something I could help with, right?”
He glanced my way, sewed a few strips together before finally pausing and saying, “I don’t want you to be mad.”
