“I can’t wait.” he sarcastically said as he put his feet into the floral shorts. I took as many pictures as needed before giving him his next ensemble; black tailored shorts and a navy blue top with a white pan collar. “What’s the point of having the buttons on the back?” he asked as I helped him into the blouse.
“So it looks nicer from the front.” I replied.
“But it must be a pain. Does Mum have to do the buttons every time you wear it?”
“No.” I grinned. “Girl’s are adept enough to do them ourselves.”
“I don’t think I’d be able to do them myself.” he said. To be fair, there are lots of little fiddly buttons on this top so it’s not exactly the easiest back fastener. “I feel like I’m being trapped in it.” he said.
“Good.” I grinned. “I can’t wait to button you into a dress… then you’ll be stuck.” I chuckled.
“I’m sure I’d be able to rip it off.” he claimed. “More heels?” he protested when I gave him some footwear.
“You only have to stand up in them… it’s not like I’m going to send you to the shop.”
“I guess.” he sighed. Snap snap snap. I helped him out of his button back blouse. He helped himself out of the shorts. I gave him a really cute pair of shorts which he predictably sneered at. I couldn’t blame him… in a way they’re too cute for me. “Stop laughing!” he whined as I grinned at him.
“I’m not laughing, I’m smiling.” I stated as my grin grew to gargantuan proportions.
“Have you found a top yet?” he mournfully asked.
“Oh yeah… sorry.” I replied, returning to my bundle of jumpers. “Here.”
“You’re kidding?” he said after unfolding the lime green cropped jumper.
“It goes with those shorts.” I shrugged.
“It’s cropped.” he gulped, holding it up and realising just where it’d go down to. “You’ll be able to see my belly.”
“Just roll your knickers and tights onto your hips.” I suggested.
Peter took exception to my use of the word ‘your’, before removing his top, revealing ‘my’ bra and quickly donning the fitted lime green jumper. I smiled as he stood and tended to his undies, hiding them beneath the waistband of his shorts. “What about shoes?” he asked.
“Oh er…” I cast my eyes over the shoes I’m selling and wondered which would look best. “Try these.” I said, handing him a pair of black ballet pumps with a bow detail on the front.
“At last!” he jovially exclaimed. “Flats!”
“Do they fit?” I asked as he slid his stockinged feet into them.
“Er… yeah.” he replied. “I always wondered how shoes like this stay on…” he commented. “…but they do.” he said as he lifted and flexed his feet.
“They are the world’s most comfy shoes… especially after heels.”
“They are comfy…. can’t see ’em being much fun in winter though.”
“They’re not bad.” I replied. Having been a schoolgirl, I know just how much boys say thing like, aren’t you freezing in your uniform? and it’s winter and you’re still wearing knee socks! and how can you be not be freezing in just a skirt? And being a girl, I know that boys are just ignorant on such matters. Girl’s are more resilient to the elements. Winter sun on bare legs can be quite warming if there’s not much wind. Thick tights are just as warm as thin trousers and little shoes are fine, most of the time. “I think when it comes to winter, girls are just tougher than boys.”
“Nah, it’s practise… you’re just used to it. If I’d grown up wearing skirts and dresses, I’d be the same.” Peter claimed. He looked down at himself and questioned the ‘point’ of cropping a jumper.
“I’ll show you.” I said before putting him in the corner and telling him how to stand. I took a snap and showed it too him.
“What?”
“It’s looks cute.” I grinned.
“You can see my bra through it.”
“Yeah… it looks OK but…”
“But what?”
“Maybe you should wear a different one.”
“Bra or jumper?”
“Bra of course.”
“If you’d told me yesterday that I’d be wearing Mum’s knickers and your bras and loads of make-up to model clothes on FleaBay… I’d have said you’d gone crazy.”
“Yet here you are…” I smiled.
“At least I’m gonna get paid for it.”
“Hopefully… we have to sell them first.” I stated. “Can I redo your lippy?”
“Why?”
“Because it needs it.” I replied. “Do you want to try?” I asked, handing him the lipstick and gloss. “…whilst I find you a bra.” Reluctantly, he took them whilst I opened my underwear drawer and began to rummage.
“Is that OK?” he asked as I shut the drawer.
“Perfect.” I said, you’re a natural.” I claimed, “Is this OK?”
“It’s a bit lacy.”
“They all are, pretty much.” I replied. “At least this is more of a crop-top.”