Vol.5, Chapter XVIII — The Muse and Musings

I watched Violet do her final preparations when we arrived at Josephine’s apartment door. It started with a big, long yawn that denoted her lack of sleep from the past three days. Next was her shaking her body loose, or at least attempt to do so. She smoothed out the dress next. Finally, she rubbed her temples and close to the corner of her eyes, in the later taking care not to smudge the make-up we had put on. The final touch up was from me, straightening up her glasses that got slightly crooked on her face when she massaged her temples.

“When we get home, we should grab a nap,” I told her.

“You think I’ll be able to sleep then?” she asked me, sounding both incredulous and wishful.

I smiled at her as an answer. Knowing her, she’ll be almost blacking out of exhaustion at the end of the photoshoot.

I exchanged a final glance with her before ringing the bell. It flew open almost immediately. Josephine stood in front of us, gleaming with excitement and with a look that was fit for an excitable artist: clothes that were put together whimsically and her hair was tied up, but in a way that had half her hair loose at random. Around her neck hanged a pair of thick-framed glasses.

“Come in! Come in!” she urged us with a smile just as large as her movements. “Please, make yourselves at home! Can I get you anything? Did you two have breakfast already? I have some cinnamon buns.”

 I was left dealing with Josephine while Violet looked around rather obviously. The place was likely triggering her neat-freak side. It wasn’t dirty or anything, but this apartment was a studio, and Josephine had scattered around what I assumed were fabric samples and sketches.

“Sorry about the mess,” Josephine said, noticing Violet’s stare, or rather, finally addressing it. “I collected these at my university and haven’t stored them away properly yet. I’m in the middle of seeing what I have lying around before deciding on how to store them.”

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,” Violet said, locking her eyes onto Josephine’s face as hers turned slightly red. “It’s just… You seem to have some really nice ones.”

Josephine lit up once more. In an instant she had her arm hooked with Violet and was dragging her around her place to show her the best fabrics and patterns she had in her collection. I tagged along, trying not to look too amused as Violet glanced back at me in a silent plea for help.

“Anyway, maybe we should start?” Josephine suddenly said midway through telling us how she came across a particular sample of angora wool. For starters, I need to take your measurements. Just so I know what adjustments I need to make. Do you mind me taking those?”

“Erm…”

Violet looked at me as she thought what to answer. What came out of her mouth was what I had already guessed she’d say.

“You can, but… my chest, hips and legs must be measured by me or Abby,” she said, her eyes fluttering a little.

“Ok, makes sense,” Josephine said, none too bothered. “Yeah, it makes sense. Claire did tell me you’re very shy and, erm, single-minded about your relationship with Abby.”

We both rose an eyebrow at her choice of words. We were curious to know what exactly was the word Claire had used to describe Violet’s dedication and reservedness about keeping her body for herself and me.

She didn’t linger on the matter though, handing me a pen and piece of paper, naming me the model’s agent and her personal assistant for the day, moving us over to a partition she had with a nice, although a bit generic, Asian design. That suited me fine as it gave me something to do other than just stare and be restless.

She took the measurements and spoke them out loud for me to write down, and then we switched tasks when it was time for the more delicate measurements. It was all going normal until I told her Violet’s inseam.

“Are you sure about that darling?” she asked, leaning around the partition. “Could you check that again?”

I did as asked, and the measurement came up a bit different, but still practically the same.

“Eighty-seven centimetres,” I told her. “We measured her leg-ratio once, and it came out as fifty-two percent or something.”

“No, that’s not right,” Josephine said, stepping closer to us. She guided Violet against the wall and marked her height on it with a pencil she had on her hair. She then took the measurement of Violet’s height and drew another line where Violet’s crotch would be.

“How tall are you dear?” she asked Violet, her eyes barely moving from the wall.

“Erm, a metre sixty-three last time I checked,” Violet stammered.

Josephine pulled out her phone and started typing.

“Good Lord, that’s a lot!” she said, sounding very positively impressed. “If we use the inseam as the reference to your leg-to-body ratio, that’s about fifty-three-point-four percent! And mind you, that’s not how you measure that!”

“T-that’s a lot… right?” Violet said, her embarrassment turning her into a parrot.

Josephine hummed before pointing at herself. She explained that she sat right at the middle of what’s considered the average.

“you, my dear, have a supermodel’s proportions! You were made for this!”

“I strongly have to disagree with that!” Violet barked. “I’d die a thousand-fold before stepping on a stage to be gawked at!”

“That’s such a shame though!” Josephine lamented. Crossing her arms and hanging her head in defeat. “A body like yours deserves to be seen by everyone.”

Violet’s mouth hanged open at that statement. Mine too for that matter because that really was one of the worst things you could tell Violet. Luckily for Josephine though, Violet was a lot mellower now than she was two years ago, otherwise I think she’d be flying out of the window by now.

And Josephine, as much unfiltered as she was, wasn’t also completely without self-awareness. Her eyes widened as she realised what she just said, her face frozen in horror.

“That was probably the worst thing I ever said to anyone,” she told Violet. “I’m really sorry about it.”

“I-it’s fine… I get what you meant.”

“It’s just… you really have a built that is a one-in-a-million kind of thing, you know? Makes an average girl be a bit jealous, if I’m to be honest. You’ve got the legs of a woman that is quite a lot taller than you.”

That did explain why it was so hard for her to find legwear that’d fit out of the box.

Violet’s expression softened. She seemed to be recalling something. After a moment, I remembered it too. That night we had our first sleepover and that we saw each other in just our underwear. We had a bit of an argument about me saying that I was a bit jealous of her long legs.

“There really is nothing to be jealous about,” Violet said softly. “You have plenty of good points about yourself that I could be jealous about.”

Josephine giggled as she took in the compliment. She grabbed the list with the measurements and gave it an inspection. I took the opportunity to bump my hips on Violet’s. She was already starting to look tired, but she still had the energy to get flustered as she saw my adoration in my eyes. I was so proud of how she dealt with the situation and her progress from how she used to be when we met. It was utterly adorable how she flushed and pouted as she looked away, combing a strand of her behind her ear.

“Sorry girls, but I think I’ll have to ask you to return another day,” Josephine announced once she looked up from the piece of paper. “I did my clothes for someone like Violet, but I never expected for her to be so long-legged. I did made them with fabric to adjust quite freely, but I’ll need to modify a lot of them.”

“Erm, I could help with that.”

“You know how to sew?” Josephine asked, surprised at that revelation.

That was my time to step in.

I approached Josephine with my arms raised to my shoulder height and spun in front of her as I called her attention to the shirt I had on. I then told her that Violet had adjusted it for me and how it used to almost reach my knees and fit two of me. I even might have exaggerated a bit by saying that Violet adjusts our families clothes all the time.

“Frankly, I’d deeply appreciate it,” Josephine admitted as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’ve been creating non-stop ever since I came back and my eyes are dead tired. My glasses aren’t even helping all that much.”

“Then, I’ll definitely help,” Violet insisted. “Besides, I’ve been thinking that what you said you’ll be paying me is too much for just putting on some clothes and letting you take pictures of me standing around.”

“Oh, but it really is a lot of work,” Josephine insisted. “The putting on clothes and posing part, I mean. People really have no idea, do they?”

I did have an inkling of an idea since Mum had forced us to pose for our family pictures. If Josephine is as demanding and perfectionist as my Mum was, then Violet was up for a shock. And since this was all for Josephine’s portfolio, then chances are that she’ll be.

Sadly, that left me with nothing much to do other than watch them work, each on their own sewing machine. Apparently, they were all quite nice judging by Violet’s comments and Josephine’s answer. Still, she said, she wasn’t quite sure why she had felt like she needed six different ones, but at least today having more than one was proving to be an asset. I did joke that at least with the ones she currently had, she could already open up her sewing salon. She agreed to it, but added the caveat that she’d upgrade for even better machines if that were the case, so she’d still be left with a surplus.

Between few words and a lot of clinking though, the clothes were all adjusted in time for lunch. Oh, the faces Violet did as she saw some of them that she’d be soon made to wear were priceless.

“Ah!” Josephine gasped as she was about to bite into the pizza that we ordered.

“What’s wrong?” Violet asked, sounding serious.

“Afraid that the model will eat too much an not t inside the clothes?” I joked.

Violet tossed me a glare with no fire behind it. She understood that I had been bored for the past few couple of hours, so she was more lenient than usual, and me knowing that made me bolder.

“I’m sorry dear, but… what sort of knickers do you have on right now?”

Violet turned bright red before answering, looking at everything but Josephine’s face.

“I thought that some clothes might be… tight, so I, erm…”

“So, you came prepared, didn’t you?” Josephine sighed. “Sorry, I was so excited about all of this that I completely forgot to ask you to bring a string or something like that on. Or even if you wear that sort of thing. Kinda surprising, if I’m to be honest.”

Violet was fuming from embarrassment. She could manage me knowing what she had under the dress because I’m her girlfriend, no matter how embarrassing it might be. She also could manage knowing it herself. Not others though, even in this context where that was a “professional” necessity.

“By the way, I’d like you to keep your choker on,” Josephine added. “I think it looks super cute and will give a nice edge to any of the outfits you’ll be wearing.”

“Oh, that’s good to know,” Violet said back. “I was actually going to ask you if I could keep it on. It’s… it’s important to me… to us, I mean.”

“I mean, I’d be fine with you not wearing it for a bit,” I told her. “We never promised to wear them together all the time anyway.”

“True, but… I’d feel naked otherwise… Even more naked…”

Ah, my charmingly complicated wifey.

The modelling started soon after we finished having lunch, and what a show it was. Truthfully, I loved seeing the outfits Violet was made to were, even if some were a bit much for her. She went through, I’d say, about some twenty different outfits in total. I won’t go through all of them, just some of note, starting with the first one: it constituted of high-waisted, short legged pinstripe shorts paired with a short sleeve tiny blazer that ended where the shorts began, around her bellybutton. Under it, she wore a white lacy bralette and her legs had knee-high socks in the navy-blue of the suit with white and red squares printed on and black loafer shoes.

“Josephine, you forgot to give me the shirt,” Violet called out as she peeked from behind the partition, trying to hold closed the blazer that I’m quite sure couldn’t button up at the front.

“That set doesn’t have one, darling,” Josephine clarified. “No point in wearing such a nice bralette.”

“B-b-but this is underwear!?”

“Underwear that is meant to be seen, dear.”

Off to a great start, right? Like I said, Violet looked amazing in it, but it was definitely too much for her. Luckily, her face wasn’t in the picture, but she was red enough that part of her upper chest was also flushed, so Josephine would have to touch up the pictures she took later. Oh, and was Violet stiff! I’ve seen bricks more pliable than her. That only lasted until about a third of the session though, as after that, emotional exhaustion started setting in and she stopped being able to overthink, her body also starting to slack a little, eventually balancing out with the tension, making her look natural somehow.

Another outfit that I found very nice was one where she was wearing a cinched waistcoat with no sleeves that hanged around her knees. Under it, she wore a sleeveless top with a neck hole that hugged her neck right under the choker. It was black and there was a small bit of her waist showing between it and the high-waisted pants she was wearing. Those were a forest-green, pleated at the front, the legs showing the contour of what lied beneath, and ending just over her ankle, showing completely the black leather chelsea boots that had a thick heal that gave her at least another ten centimetres in height.

Two outfits were like school uniforms: a white short-sleeved shirt, a tie, and a pleated mini-skirt at the base of each. One was with a red tie, a black V-necked black cardigan and the skirt was in a black and red tartan. The other did away with the cardigan and the tie was sky-blue and the skirt was a tartan with the same colour and a blue-grey. Both outfits had the top blue buttons of the shirt undone, the skirt sat almost at her ribs, and it was really, really short on both cases. I checked, so I’m not lying or exaggerating when saying that it only extended past four fingers of her groin. That was already bad enough, but then, Violet was also wearing garter belts, and the straps holding the socks were showing. Of those two, I liked the red one better because it’s not often I see Vio.et wearing red, if ever, and I specially liked seeing her with thick-soled combat boots. Violet with a hint of a gothic style was something that was surprisingly unsurprising nice, if that makes sense. There was another outfit I liked where Violet was wearing another too-short pleated mini-skirt in a dark and light grey pinstripe, the same top and boots as in the one with the sleeveless trench coat, sheer back thigh-high socks, and a slightly distressed denim jacket. I think that one was working for me because I never seen Violet wearing anything distressed or worn. The one with a frayed denim skirt, spaghetti-strapped tiny black tank-top, garter belts, thigh-high socks with lacy bands and those gothic combat boots was also wonderful to see.

She wasn’t made to wear only revealing stuff, however. One outfit that I loved and could see her wearing in the future for some more formal event was a back turtleneck under a white blazer, a short skirt—that thankfully covered half of her thigh—with a straight cut in an olive-drab colour, dark sheer tights and black boots that almost reached her knee that, like the Chelseas, gave her extra height with the same style of heel. Mature, elegant, and still showing her figure and legs.

Or the white trench coat on top of that back sleeveless top, high-waisted tight jeans and high-heeled pointy black boots, if the heel wasn’t so extreme. This one had her on the tips of her toes. Or the black knee-length dress, forest-green blazer with the yellow-ish green buttons over those tights and boots.

But the top of the top, not in my taste, but in formality and craftmanship had to be that. That being the blue-ish purple velvet evening gown. It was held up by a high halter-style neckline with a very intricate lace pattern that covered the neck and chest. The fabric had a sheen to it made accentuated even more Violet’s wonderful figure. It was one of the outfits that had required her wearing something under that wouldn’t form a panty line. It flowed down to her feet, pooling there and dragging behind her slightly. It had a huge slit that revealed almost all of her left leg, and she had silver strapped heels on her feet.

Personally, if it were for her to wear to a party, I think I’d prefer the black, one-shoulder mini dress, although that one too required her to wear something that’d be invisible beneath because it really hugged her rear even with her standing straight. It was a ribbed knit, ending at the mid-thigh, the one shoulder that was covered had a full sleave, and the dress had a sparkling effect to it. She had black ankle boots and sheer black thighs.

There was also the one mini-dress with the white fishnet top under it, but that one had the garter belt showing, and I really don’t see Violet wearing any of those. Well, not outside this “professional” setting.

I could go on, and on, and on about all this. Like I said, Violet looked great in them, not only because Violet was so beautiful that she’d look good even wearing an old potato bag, but also because the clothes were made specifically to fit her body, and that is a titanically big help too.

Josephine was ecstatic with how they fit Violet, her “muse”. All that energy was both a blessing and a curse for Violet. A blessing because it gave her energy to push on, together with my presence, of course. A curse because it gave her energy to push on. I’m repeating myself intentionally here. Were it just me and her, Violet would likely have taken a break or two to decompress, but since she wanted to live up to Josephine’s enthusiasm and promise of pay, she was going past her limits. I did try my best to help keep her level. A word of love her, a touch there, a glance and a smile, handing Violet her water bottle, little things like that, but the rhythm was too much and for too long.

“Phew! I’m beat!” Josephine proclaimed as she collapsed on the couch by us. “Thanks again for all of your help! You did great today!”

“…Thanks,” Violet said, her voice sounding like it had to be dragged from her depths. Josephine looked tired, but if she was tired, then Violet was dead. She was back to her clothes though, so at least she was back to her old skin.

“See? I told you this was a lot of work,” Josephine laughed.

Violet moved her head towards Josephine, but her eyes looked lost in the emptiness of the universe. This was the most tired I had ever seen her.

“I should take her home,” I said, tapping Violet’s knee. “After all this, she’ll be sleeping at least twelve hours straight.”

“I really put her through the wringer, haven’t I? Sorry about that.”

I told her that it was fine and that Violet only needed a good sleep, some peace and quiet and some cuddling.

I was giving Violet some water from her bottle when Josephine said that we were very lucky for having one another.

I looked at her, feeling like she wanted to share something.

“Sorry, it’s just… I had a girlfriend until not so long ago,” she said, her voice not sounding like someone who had broken up with their partner. “Seeing you two makes me really realise how much time and effort I wasted in that relationship.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“It’s just that you two clearly take care of one another. My ex, she wanted everything from me, but gave back almost nothing. She didn’t do it consciously, mind, you, although I don’t think that makes it any better. I almost gave up from this because of her, you know?”

“You did?” I asked, looking around the room, how it was covered in fabric sample, sketches and clipped images of clothes. The smell of silk, sating, cotton and even leather hung in the air. This was a room of someone who lived and breathed their chosen craft.

“She kept saying that I was too focused on this and not enough on her. That I made her feel neglected and how I wasn’t emotionally available for her. It got so bad that my grades started suffering because I was dedicating all of my time and energy on her. Just so you see, when she broke up with me two months ago, I could only feel relief.”

“That’s horrible!”

“Oh, it is, and I felt horrible for it,” she said, nodding. “Luckily, Claire helped me see things clearly. She also pestered me non-stop about making her a dress for ‘her woman’s’ recital. Your sister, right? Anyway, she pestered me so much that I finally gave in. It was making her that red dress, and then seeing her in it and how happy she was and how good she looked, that my passion came back. There’s something really special about grabbing a square piece of cloth and giving it a new shape. And taking a picture of someone then wearing it. I love that part too.”

I looked at her and then at Violet. The feeling that I really lucked out on my first love stroke again. It made me want even more to make everything work between me and Violet, you know?

Just as Violet and I were about to leave after Josephine paid the rest she owed to Violet, Violet seemed reluctant to walk, and it wasn’t just from her tiredness. She was looking straight at Josephine’s face with a complicated look that had our new acquaintance shifting her weight uncomfortably.

“If… if you ever need a model again…” Violet trailed off.

Josephine grew a sympathetic smile. She thanked Violet and said she’d keep her number in that case.

As we walked back home, once I saw Violet a bit more grounded, I asked her what that was about.

“…I don’t know,” Violet said. “Maybe it’s because I myself don’t know what to do with my life. Other than my life with you, that is. Maybe… Maybe I want to help her fulfil hers?”

I smiled at her. My kind, even if mysteriously motivated wifey.

Waking up from our night, I saw Violet prone on her stomach. She had her arms crossed, holding her torso up as she glared at the money she had saved up until now. I rolled over, partially resting my body on top of her, and placing my chin on her shoulder as I have her a “hi there!”. I then asked what she was up to.

“Just doing some thinking,” she told me.

“About what?” I asked. “Is it not enough for whatever it is that you want?”

“No, it is,” she told me with a sigh. “That’s not the issue.”

“What is it then?”

“…”

“…”

“…Did I really earn it?”

“What?” I asked, my voice and face stating how moronic of a question that was.

“I know it is stupid,” she grumbled, leaning her face away from my glare. “It’s just… I just stood there… I just stood there, and put on some clothes…”

“Haah, honestly, you…” I grumbled back, rubbing my head. I rarely get headaches, but when I do, sometimes I wonder if she’s not the reason behind them. “You spent two hours helping her adjust the clothes, and then you spent about three hours jumping in and out of clothes that showed almost as much as I get to see every day and dying of embarrassment out of it. You’ve earned it. It is earned money from work. You got that?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good,” I huffed. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

I pulled away from her and put on some clothes before heading out. Just as I was about to step out, she called out to me.

“Erm, I love you,” she told me, still with a complicated face that was now in the process of easing up. “More than you can think. I really do.”

“Love you too babe,” I told her with a chuckle. “Love you to bits.”