She stood up when they entered the room. "Z, how nice to see you." She flashed a curious glance at Jory before giving Z a kiss on each cheek.
"Hey, Lila. We're going out to Dragonrider's later; you should come."
"I'd love to," she agreed with a smile. Jory saw the flash of a purple band adorning her wrist. Another mate hunt participant.
"I made an appointment with uncle for my friend, Joriah. He needs a new wardrobe."
"I'll call back and let him know you're here." Lila picked up a handset, pressed a few buttons on the com-phone, and spoke into the receiver. "He'll take you now," she told Joriah with a smile.
"I'll stay out here and chat with Lila." Z threw his long body into a guest chair.
Nodding, Jory followed the girl through the doorway.
She led him to an enormous chamber with yards and yards of fabrics displayed on every available surface.
A sleek middle-aged man in a gorgeous gray suit stood in the center of the room.
"Good afternoon, Master Joriah, I'm Britson." The man greeted him with a well-modulated voice and a graceful bow. "I hear you are in need of a new wardrobe."
"Yes, my ex-boyfriend burned most of my clothing."
The older man paled. "Incinerator?"
"Bonfire."
The tailor took out his tape measure. "Let's start with getting exact measurements. From there, I can make you anything you need. I have a few things I can adjust to fit your build, but an entire wardrobe will take a while."
"I understand."
He even suppressed his sigh. Go him.
"It's easier if you strip down to your underwear so I can take the most accurate measurements."
"I'm not wearing any underwear." He couldn't stop blushing as he confessed to the tailor. He should've changed before going out, but after his encounter with Val and trying to get registered, it hadn't occurred to him to stop and put on underwear. He also hadn't planned on having to confess it to the elegant man, who was now giving him a knowing smile. From one of the dozens of drawers lining the wall, he removed a paper package, quickly revealing a pair of silk boxes from its tissue nest. "You can wear these. I'll go get supplies from the other room while you get prepared."
The tailor left while Jory stripped down and put on the boxers. The high quality material slid in a decadently sinful manner against his bare skin. The memory of Val ripping off his underwear earlier made them a tighter fit.
Manners instilled by his father had him folding his clothes and stacking them neatly on the guest chair.
A soft gasp made Jory turn around. Britson's eyes were fixated on the armband wrapped around his upper arm.
"Oh, I was marked me to keep me safe from predators." He hoped he sounded casual. Surrounded by a strange culture, he didn't know the true purpose of the armband. Had he made a mistake in accepting the armband?
"They get possessive around mate hunt season," Britson commented, pulling out a tape measure. After taking a series of measurements, the tailor pronounced himself finished. "Do you mind if I take some pictures? I can then load them into my computer and choose fabrics matching your coloring and body shape. Once I have your preferences."
Jory shrugged. "Whatever works for you." He wasn't exactly naked, and he didn't think the tailor planned to post it all over the galactic-net. Jory snickered; that would get him a phone call from father.
"Keep the underwear. My client won't miss them."
Laughing, Jory let the tailor take his picture.
Britson lifted Jory's clothing between his thumb and forefinger. After a long spaceport ride, they weren't exactly fresh. "I'll have these burned."
"Might as well. That's what happened to the rest of them."
Britson laughed. The look suited the man. "You'll have to tell me that story some time."
"Buy me a beer and you got yourself a date."
