Page 62 of That: Taylor & Brooks

“You matter. You deserve good things, and you don’t have to earn them through struggle. Not with me.”

Elise smiled quietly, watching him pour affirmation over Taylor like it was second nature.

“I don’t need all this and maybe you don’t either, but you don’t know until you experience it,” he added, reaching for her hand. “That’s the only assignment today. Experience new things.”

Elise led them to a private suite lined with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and plush emerald velvet seating. Champagne arrived in crystal flutes, followed by fresh berries, artisanal cheeses, and dark chocolate truffles.

“Blake ain’t said nothing about all of this.” Taylor whispered as assistants silently arranged garments on custom racks. She felt like she was in the movie Pretty Woman without the prostituting.

Brooks settled into one of the velvet chairs, legsspread, completely at home in this exclusive space.

Elise returned with pieces from designers who understood the assignment, labels that knew how to cut for a Black woman’s body. Some Taylor had caught on red carpets and magazine spreads, worn by women with publicists and stylists. She never imagined pulling them off a hanger with her name on the receipt.

“How did you figure my size?” She asked, running her fingers along a butter-soft leather jacket in a rich cognac color. She remembered him saying he was able to describe her but he was spot on.

Brooks didn’t even flinch.

He looked up, locking eyes with her through the mirror.

“I pay attention to what’s mine. Told you that already.”

She paused. Just stared at him. No words needed.

Then turned and walked toward the dressing room, quiet, but something in her posture said she felt that.

Brooks smirked, eyes back on his phone. “And don’t be shy, either. I wanna see too. Or you want me to come in there with you?”

“Brooks,” she warned, fighting a smirk. “Get it together.”

“But you gon’ come show off though, right?”

Her lips curled into a grin. “I’ll show off a little.”

“Word.”

He stayed focused, handling business but he meant what he said. This whole trip, this whole moment, was about her. Period. So, he’d multi task to ensure it became a reality.

Taylor slipped behind the screen and reached forthe first a body-contouring, one-shoulder jumpsuit in matte black with a cinched waist and a slit just above the ankle. She slipped it on and smirked. The red bottom heels behind her fit like butter. The gold Gucci belt covered her midsection. She loved this.

“Okay, Sandy from Grease. But grown. Fine. And Black.”

When she stepped out, Brooks didn’t say a word. He just ran his tongue over his teeth, eyes dragging up her body. He was occupied, calculating what level of restraint he had left. Then he motioned for her to turn around, slow. She did.

She looked back at him over her shoulder. He winked and rubbed his hands together.

“I don’t know I feel like you need me to come back there with you.”

“No sir, I do not. We’ll be here all day.”

He smiled and nodded for her to go finish. She was right. He’d save that for the night.

Back behind the curtain she went. She continued trying things on jeans, dresses, skirts, sets, shoes, sunglasses. By the third glass of champagne, Taylor had stopped thinking about price tags or practicality. She was laughing, twirling, letting herself enjoy being the center of this man’s attention.

The more she went and came out to him, with different looks the more he rested right outside the door anticipating what she come out in next. Her confidence was catching up to her body. Because she was beautiful, sexy, and pressure in her own right. He’d reminded her of that. Her final look was a force to be reckoned with.

A copper colored, corset-style midi dress that hugged her curves like it had something to prove. Thefabric was structured, almost sculpted giving waist, giving hips, giving unapologetic sexy. It dipped low in the back.

She paired it with a caramel and chocolate toned cropped fur jacket. The soft fur draped over her shoulders lightly.

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