Dorsai - Taxi

But I kept my mouth shut except for saying "please" and "thank you", and stayed as much in the background as I could. The stuff they showed her all looked pretty good – at least on the models that were wearing it; I didn't figure it would look as nice on her, since she didn't resemble any of the wispy fashion models that had the stuff on. Nobody asked my opinion, though, and I damn sure didn't volunteer it.

There were a couple of things that she decided she liked, and made arrangements for them to be altered to fit her. When I heard what they cost, I damn near dropped my dinky little coffee cup; the two outfits she liked cost more than I had ever made in an entire month.

I could tell when things were getting close to being done, and quietly excused myself so I could get outside and be ready to take her to the next place. I hadn't been standing there but a couple of minutes when she came outside and saw me. I could tell that she was pleased that I'd gotten ready ahead of her, and quickly got her settled into the back again as she told me our next destination. I got us there easily enough, and she again suggested that I might want to come inside, since she didn't know how long she'd be there.

That place seemed to specialize in lingerie and filmy underthings, and the show I got made up for the tepid mediocre coffee they served us. Again, I was staying in the background, content to watch the models showing us the wares (the stores AND the models!) when Katherine turned around to ask me "What do you think, James?"

I visualized Katherine in the little bustier thing the model was showing us, and after a couple of seconds, answered "I think it looks real good on her."

Apparently satisfied, Katherine started to turn to the front again, then quickly reversed course to look at me again before saying "You said you thought it looked good on her. How do you think it would look on me, though?"

Trying not to mess things up, I tried to give her some kind of response without actually having to tell her what I really thought: that it simply wouldn't do a thing for her. Katherine wasn't having any of that, thank you, and finally told me "James, I want to know what YOUR honest opinion is."

Reluctantly, and apologetically, I answered "I don't think you would look anywhere near as good in it as she does."

Hearing that, Katherine immediately wanted to know "Why not?"

"A couple of reasons. First, that color goes a lot better with her dark hair and complexion than it would with your red hair and lighter skin tones."

She considered that for a moment, then said "And?"

"And what?"

"You said there were a couple of reasons, and you've only given me one so far."

Damn. Busted again. All I could do was reply "You've got a different figure than she does, so it would look different on you."

"How so?"

"You're, uh, shaped more like most women; she's thinner, like most of the fashion models I've seen on TV. As a guy, I just don't think that the way it looks would be the same on a different figure than hers, is all."

She must have realized that I was a bit uncomfortable about admitting that I'd visualized her in the damn thing, because she gave me a strange smile before telling me "Thank you, James. I wanted an honest opinion, and you gave it to me. Have you seen anything yet that you thought I would look good in?"

"Uh, that camisole thing a couple outfits ago, if it was in a light gray or green."

Katherine turned to the salesperson, and asked if the one I was talking about came in either of those colors. The salesperson had to go check, and while she was gone, Katherine turned to tell me "I'm not upset with you, James, for giving me your honest opinion. I asked you what you thought, and it wouldn't be right for me to be upset with you for giving it. I thought that bustier might be acceptable, but I wasn't quite sure. What you told me made me realize that it wouldn't, and saved me the bother of finding out after I bought it. In addition to what you're making driving me around, I'll be adding ten percent of what it cost, for saving me the other ninety percent."

That damn bustier would have cost her a cool grand, so she'd just told me that I'd be getting a hundred dollar tip!

Keeping my composure, I told her "Thank you, Ma'am, I appreciate that."

She gave me another strange smile before saying "If I'm going have you imagining me in something like that, or even that camisole, I think that I can let you call me Katherine."

"Thank you… Katherine."

That was when the sales clerk came back in to let Katherine know that the camisole was available in a pale green; Katherine said she'd like to see it, on a blond, if a redhead wasn't available. It wasn't but a couple of minutes before we were seeing it on one of their less emaciated models wearing a wig that wasn't too far off from Katherine's own tresses. Seeing it that way, it didn't take me long to figure that it would look real good on Katherine. She apparently reached the same decision, and said she'd take it.

A couple more times, Katherine asked me what I thought of something they were showing her, and I politely told her what I thought of it. She ended up buying several different things, and when she was done the arrangements for getting things altered and delivered were quickly settled.

By the time we got out of the place, it was getting close to lunch time and I was starting to wonder how the heck we were going to manage that. Much to my surprise, Katherine brought the matter up by asking if I would accompany her to one of the nicer restaurants in town – her treat, of course. I'd been there exactly once, a long time before, and hesitantly agreed. Realizing what the problem likely was, Katherine told me "It'll be fine, James. Such places always have a spare jacket and tie for customers that might not have anticipated eating there. You'll see."

When we got there, I learned that she'd been absolutely correct – it wasn't but a minute or so before they'd outfitted me with a nice jacket of the correct size. It being lunch time, it was judged that my open-collar shirt was good enough that a tie wasn't necessary.

Once we were seated, I wasn't the least bit bashful about telling her "I'm sorry, Katherine, but I don't get to eat in places like this very much, so I really don't have much of an idea of what to order this time of day."

Surprising me somewhat, she gave me a look of appraisal before saying "I don't think that was easy for you to admit, was it?"

"No, not really."

"But you said it anyway. Why?"

"Because I'm not going to pretend to be someone I'm not, or that I know things I don't. You know I drive a cab for a living; so there's no point to acting like this is anything but what it is: a new and novel experience for me. You wanted my honest opinion before, and I'm going to be just as honest with you now."

She considered that for a few moments, then smiled before saying "Thank you, again, James. It's very seldom that I get to meet people that aren't trying to put up at least some kind of a front for others to see. I've been watching you, and I don't doubt that your manners and all are anything less than entirely suitable; the only concern I had about bringing you here was addressed when you admitted to not knowing what to order. If you've got the courage to admit what you did, then I won't say or do anything to embarrass you in front of others. I'll order first, and if you'll order the same, everything will be fine."

She started to say something else, but let it go because the waiter turned up with water and menus for us. When he'd gone again, Katherine asked if there was anything I didn't particularly care for, or was allergic to. Once I'd assured her that there wasn't, both of us looked over the menu. I was able to work out what was offered from the French on the menu, though the prices shocked me. When our waiter came back, Katherine was ready to tell him what she wanted; I pretended to give the menu another look before telling him that what she'd ordered sounded good to me, too. When he'd gone, she smiled and said "That was very nicely done, James. I'm glad you understand the distinction between putting on a front, and simply making the effort to fit in."