Yvonne stopped her with a raised hand. ‘Is “Sales” my middle name, or is it not?’
‘It is.’
‘Well, this is just another sales pitch,’ she said, ‘only with you as the product.’
Claire smiled weakly.
‘Speaking of sales,’ Yvonne said, sliding out from behind the desk, ‘that guy doesn’t know it yet, but he’s just about to buy the yoga manual he’s been thumbing for the last half-hour.’
Claire watched her go, not at all sure what she had let herself in for.
‘What do you think?’ Claire asked, on Thursday, as she stood in front of Yvonne, tugging at the hem of a silky red slip dress, very conscious that it barely covered her crotch. She couldn’t possibly appear in public in it. It would be like going out in her underwear.
‘It’s great! Very sexy,’ Yvonne enthused, eyeing Claire from her position on a velvet sofa.
‘It’s very expensive,’ Claire hedged, glancing again at the price tag. Yvonne had brought her to this upmarket boutique, saying it wastheplace to go if you wanted to do sexy on a shoestring. But clearly Yvonne’s shoestrings were made of ritzier stuff than Claire was used to. Still, at least she could make the excuse that she couldn’t afford it. She didn’t want to hurt Yvonne’s feelings when she was being so helpful.
‘It’s perfect,’ Yvonne continued. ‘That colour looks really good on you. But you need to wear some seriously high shoes,’ she said, glancing at Claire’s bare feet. ‘And definitely no knickers.’
‘What—?’ Claire paled. ‘I don’t want to look like a hooker.’
‘You won’t. But you can’t wear knickers in a dress likethat. Apart from the fact that there’s no way of avoiding VPL, it sends the wrong message.’
‘I’m not trying to tell him I’m rentable by the hour.’
Yvonne rolled her eyes impatiently. ‘There is nothing tarty about that dress, okay? Besides, you couldn’t look slutty if you tried.’
Claire bit her lip. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she mumbled.
‘Good, because it was meant as one.’
Claire stared at herself in the mirror and tugged at the hem again. The colour was nice, and she did like the dress as far as it went – it just didn’t go far enough. ‘Maybe if I wore it with leggings…’
‘Leggings?’ Yvonne shrieked in disgust. ‘No way! If you can’t wear knickers with it, you certainly won’t get away with leggings.’
‘I think it could work as a top,’ Claire said. What she needed, she thought, was a second opinion.
‘What we need,’ Yvonne said, as if reading Claire’s mind, ‘is a second opinion.’ She grabbed her mobile from her bag and punched buttons as she spoke. ‘Preferably male.’
‘What are you?—’
Yvonne held up a finger, silencing her. ‘Luca,’ she said, into the phone, and Claire froze in horror. She shook her head frantically at Yvonne, who ignored her and turned away, continuing to talk. ‘I’m over at Threads with a friend and we need some advice. I was wondering if you could pop over and help us.’
Oh God, this was turning into a nightmare. She was desperate to get out of this dress, if there was even the remotest chance that Luca would turn up. She tried to dive for the changing room but Yvonne stuck a leg out, blocking her way.
‘Well, you’d get to ogle my friend in a very skimpy dress – and she has really nice legs,’ she was saying now, smiling into the phone. ‘And I suppose I could buy you lunch.’
‘Claire,’ Yvonne said after a pause. ‘You met her. She was at Ivan’s party the other night. I don’t know if you – oh! You do?’
Jeez, she was being sold to him like a prize heifer!
‘We’re in luck,’ Yvonne said, snapping her phone closed. ‘I remembered that Luca’s helping to hang an exhibition at the gallery just across the road. He’s going to call over.’
‘Well, there’s nothing for him to see here,’ Claire said, making another lunge for the changing room.
Yvonne shot up off the sofa and stood in front of Claire with her arms folded. ‘Come on, I know he seems a bit of a sleaze, but Luca has a great eye. He’s an artist. Plus, he’s a man.’
‘But I don’t need another opinion. I already know?—’
