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“Maybe you shouldn’t watch, Brooker,” The Russian said. “It will ruin the impact when I arrive Sunday night looking resplendent.”
“Wild dogs wouldn’t drag me away,” I said. “It’s okay, I promise to be impressed Sunday night as well.”
“I feel cheap,” The Russian said to Josh and he shook his head.
“Women,” Josh agreed.
The Russian went back into my room to change. I fanned myself with the TV program.
“Oh my, was that hot or what?” I said.
Josh nodded. “I’m going to need some water with my coffee.”
“I’m onto it,” I said. I rushed to the kitchen, grabbed two glasses of water and got back in time before the second showing. We snuggled back next to each other. This was better than porn, or so I had heard ... I wouldn’t know ... honest.
Five minutes later, the door opened again and then The Russian appeared in all his glory in another tuxedo.
“Magnificent,” I whispered. I wished Josh wasn’t there and I could run at The Russian, knock him back on my bed and lick him. Right, focus.
“Dolce and Gabbana,” The Russian said and turned full circle, without prompting this time, while looking to Josh for approval.
Josh nodded. “Another classic. Tailored three-piece tuxedo suit with blazer, peaked lapels and satin detail. Solid wool,” he said, with a glance at me like that meant something.
Gorgeous, sexy, dream-worthy. “Very nice,” I said, restraining myself.
“Just very nice, Brooker?” The Russian challenged me.
“Superb,” Josh raised the bar. “Both of those tuxedos are first class.”
“First class,” I said, nodding and agreeing. The Russian gave me a small smile and ventured in to try on the final suit.
“Wipe your mouth,” Josh said.
“I’m not drooling, I’m salivating,” I said. “Tall, dark and handsome, my dream man is in my bedroom in a tux.”
“I hear you,” Josh said. “It’s my fantasy too.”
We both giggled. This was the best night ever. Finally, The Russian came out in the third tuxedo and my jaw dropped open.
“Beautiful,” I said, without thinking.
“Thanks Brooker, hope you can match it,” he said, his eyes twinkling at me.
“Magnificent,” Josh agreed. “Is that a Tom Ford tux?”
“You’re good,” The Russian said, looking impressed. “Very good. It is indeed; got it at a photo shoot recently.”
“Turn around please,” Josh ordered.
Well done, Josh.
“Magnificent,” Josh said again and I nodded. He rose and went over to The Russian. He felt the coat fabric between his fingers.
“Slim-Fit Mohair and Wool-Blend, the suit of Bond, James Bond,” Josh said.
“Is that so?” The Russian asked. “Then this is the suit for me.”
“It most certainly is,” I said, admiring the lustrous satin.
