Chapter 62: Featured Server

"If the outfit exists because you want men to stare at me, I will wear your ledger as a hat and ruin both of our reputations."

Tamsin stood in their room with her hands on her hips, wearing only her shift, wool stockings, and the expression she used on customers who believed a wink could replace payment. Morning light came through the small window and made her brown skin glow warm along the shoulders. Her dark hair was braided over one breast. She was barefoot because she had kicked her boots off in irritation five minutes earlier and had not forgiven the floor yet.

Lina held up the folded festival bodice like a peace offering to a blade. "The outfit exists because Moonwake needs servers people notice before they notice the cups. If eyes go to trained staff first, we can direct the room. We become the visible rule."

"That sentence is clever enough to be guilty."

"It is guilty of trying to keep hands where they belong."

Tamsin took the bodice. It was deep blue linen reinforced with hidden stays, cut low enough to show cleavage, laced in front with silver cord, and shaped to leave the arms free. The matching overskirt opened in front over a shorter work skirt. Pretty, yes. Practical, also yes. The pockets were large enough for cup marks, cord tokens, and the little chalk Tamsin used to mark people who had already been warned once.

"You made this before asking me," Tamsin said.

"I paid Mirla to make one prototype before asking you. That is different."

"Only because it gives me a specific woman to glare at after I finish with you."

Lina set the overskirt on the bed. "If you hate it, we burn it, or give it to Orin and make the festival more confusing."

Tamsin tried not to laugh. She failed halfway. "Do not tempt me. He would make the neckline philosophical."

"He makes bread philosophical."

The laugh softened the room, but Tamsin did not let the issue slip away. She held the bodice against herself and looked at Lina over the top edge. "Say the real thing. Do not sell me the civic version. Why me first?"

Lina sat on the edge of the bed so she would not fidget with the laces. "Because people trust you faster than they trust me. I look like the woman who made the dangerous thing. You look like the woman who will tell them the dangerous thing is not for idiots. Because when you stand beside the cup, men notice your mouth, women notice your hands, and both usually listen when you speak. Because you are desirable in a way that does not ask permission to exist, and I want that working for the rules instead of against them."

Tamsin was quiet.

Lina added, softer, "Because I want Valmora to see you and know this was never only mine."

That landed. Tamsin looked down at the bodice, thumb rubbing the silver cord. "That was a better answer. Annoyingly."

"I practice in terror."

"Undress me properly, then. If you are making a public argument out of my breasts, you can at least help arrange them honestly."

Lina stood too quickly and nearly stepped on Tamsin's boot. Tamsin's smile returned, rich with pleasure at the effect.

"Eager?" Tamsin asked.

"Concerned for fabric."

"Liar. Good. Come here."

The fitting became intimate by degrees, each one named before it happened. Lina untied Tamsin's shift at the shoulder and slid it down. Tamsin wore no breast band under it. Her breasts settled free, heavy enough to fill Lina's hands, nipples already tightening in the cool room. Lina swallowed before the room could hear too much of her pulse.

"Words," Tamsin said.

"You are beautiful," Lina said. "And I am trying not to look like I made the outfit only to watch you wear it."

"You did make it partly for that."

"Yes."

"Better."

Lina helped her into the work skirt first, tying it snug at the waist. Then came the bodice. Tamsin held her breasts while Lina settled the linen beneath them, then let them drop into the shaped cups. The neckline lifted and displayed her without making her seem offered. There was power in it, not surrender. Lina laced the front slowly.

"Too tight?" Lina asked.

"Tighter. If I am bending over cups all night, I want support, not tragedy."

Lina pulled the silver cord until Tamsin inhaled. "There?"

"There. I can breathe, and anyone who thinks he can tug this loose will lose a finger."

"We can write that on the sign."

"No. Let it be a surprise."

They moved to the small mirror. Tamsin stared at herself. The outfit showed the slope of her breasts, the strong line of her throat, the curve of her hips under the overskirt, the capable muscle in her arms. She looked like a woman working, and like a woman worth staring at if the stare came with respect and coin.

Lina stood behind her. "What do you see?"

"Myself," Tamsin said, after a moment. "But louder."

"Too loud?"

"No. That is the problem. I like it." Her voice roughened. "I like it enough that I am angry at you for knowing I might."

Lina placed both hands on Tamsin's waist. "May I touch?"

"You may touch over the bodice. Then under the skirt if I ask. Not because you designed it. Because I am asking you to admire me until my knees become unreliable."

"I can be useful."

"Sometimes."

Lina kissed the side of her neck. Tamsin leaned back against her, eyes open in the mirror. Lina cupped her breasts through the linen, thumbs stroking the lifted curve above the cups. The fabric made everything feel deliberate. Tamsin watched herself being touched and watched Lina watching her.

"This is what they will want," Tamsin said. "A woman who looks warm, available, certain."

"You are not available."

"I am selectively available. That is different, and it matters. Festival men need to learn that desire can be visible without being theirs."

Lina kissed her shoulder. "Say that at the station and I will add a copper to your wage every time."

"Silver."

"Cruel."

"Accurate."

Tamsin guided Lina's right hand down. "Under the skirt now. I want to know if I can feel wanted in this without feeling displayed for someone else."

Lina slid her hand beneath the front opening of the overskirt and under the shorter work skirt. Tamsin had dressed without smallclothes because she had been half asleep when Lina started the argument. Lina's fingers found bare warm thigh, then wetness.

"Here?" Lina asked against her ear.

"Here. Window closed, door latched, no brew, no audience but the mirror."

Lina touched her cunt with two fingers, slow enough that the first stroke drew Tamsin's mouth open. The bodice held Tamsin upright while her hips shifted forward. Lina rubbed her clit in small circles and kept her other hand firm at Tamsin's waist, not pinning, only steadying.

"Look," Lina whispered.

Tamsin did. Her eyes were dark, cheeks flushed, breasts lifted by the festival blue, thighs parted under practical cloth. She looked powerful and aroused at once. The sight made Lina ache.

"If I wear this," Tamsin said, breath uneven, "you introduce me as Tamsin Hale, station lead and protocol co-founder. Not helper, not first tester, and not your girl in the pretty bodice."

"Yes."

"If someone compliments my tits, I may accept, charge, ignore, or insult as I choose."

"Yes."

"If you get jealous because I enjoy being seen, you tell me privately and do not punish me by becoming noble."

Lina almost laughed, but Tamsin's cunt clenched under her fingers and the laugh broke into a groan. "Yes. And if I look proud?"

"Then I will try not to forgive you too quickly."

Lina slid two fingers inside her. Tamsin braced one hand on the mirror frame. The old glass trembled. Lina kept her thumb on Tamsin's clit and stroked inward, curling just enough to make Tamsin's knees bend.

"Still yours?" Lina asked, using their house phrase carefully.

"Still mine first," Tamsin said. "Yours by invitation. Valmora's by invoice."

Lina laughed into her shoulder and kept going. Tamsin came standing in the festival outfit, one hand over her own mouth to keep the sound from carrying downstairs, hips rocking against Lina's hand until the last shudder passed through her legs. Lina held her through it, kissing the back of her neck, careful not to wrinkle the fabric more than necessary.

Afterward, Tamsin turned in her arms. Her face was soft, but not softened into agreement.

"You may make four more," she said. "Different cuts for different bodies. No one wears mine. Each woman approves her own fit. Each outfit has pockets, support, and a hidden blade loop or chalk loop. Pretty does not replace armed."

"Done."

"And you tell Mirla she has a gift for making me look expensive."

"She will charge more."

"Then so will I."

Lina kissed her. Tamsin tasted like laughter and heat. The kiss lasted until someone downstairs called that Vex had arrived with a list of performers and two complaints already sharpened.

Tamsin looked down at herself in the mirror one more time.

"Featured server," she said, testing the phrase.

"Station lead," Lina corrected.

Tamsin smiled as if the answer had finally earned trouble. "Good girl."

Lina went red so fast Tamsin laughed all the way down the stairs.