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Artemisia claimed it was for a masquerade. She thought she'd try her hand as a young swordsman, an actress. I didn't question her explanation, real or otherwise. I was only there to assist and admire both the base and the results.
She opted for the full treatment, breasts bound down with wide strips of fabric as opposed to my regular treatment of fitting the tailored shirts and vests over my natural figure.
"How does this feel? Too tight?"
"A little," she turned around and investigated the results. "The curve is still there."
Indeed, the outlines of Artemisia's endowments were visible under the bandages. I tilted my head, and appraised the results.
"What do you think?"
I went through the supplies of shirts and vests left to me, and chose a loose shirt and a structured vest from the remnants. "I think, once these are on, no one will be able to tell the difference." I dressed her myself, sliding the summer linen over her arms and shoulders and pulling them down.
"This is nightgown fabric!" Artemisia smoothed down her front and analyzed the results. "It's better with the shirt."
"Once we get your coat and waistcoat on, no one should know the difference, if not for your hair." I ran my fingers through it. "We can always cut it."
Artemisia jumped back and grabbed her hair protectively. "What about a cap?"
"Fine, if you want to be a stable boy, but not for a masquerade. We could do a nice top hat and perhaps a wig for you." I brushed her hair behind her ears. "You'd look like a dandy."
Her stockings and garters went on next. They were almost comically similar to the ones found in the costumes of ladies, proper and otherwise. Then came the gorgeous black breeches that I bought earlier, when the itch to wear something other than full gowns came over. On me, they would have slid over like a second skin. The fit did not work so well on Artemisia—tight in some places and loose in others.
"How does that feel?"
Artemisia rubbed her hands up and down her thighs. "Naked. Exposed. I did not realize I had so much leg."
My hand shook as I closed the fastenings on her breeches. They perhaps lingered longer than they should absolutely need to, but then perhaps the way she shifts towards me makes that advance entirely welcome. "I suppose it's a blessing that you are choosing to forego the codpiece."
Artemisia blushed, "I doubt I have much to fill it."
I scoffed. "Nonsense. You would just need to find a suitable substitute. A stocking full of beans would work."
"Katherine!"
"Unless you were planning on a liaison with someone tonight, and then you would need other equipment."
Artemisia stared at me. " Katherine! What—I would—those exist?"
"Certainly. They are tailored of leather or polished wood for the pleasure of women who want the feel of a man without the necessary burdens of one."
She looked away, unable to meet my eyes. "And…would you perhaps be in possession of one?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Oh." I saw the wheels turning in her head, while I fastened her waistcoat—in a beautiful shade of peacock blue—and tied her cravat into neat folds around her neck. When the top hat went on and hid the bounty of her head, she looked no different than any other very young and beautiful dandy. On top of all this was a coat in a lovely plum color, and a jeweled mask to hide all but her eyes.
"What do you think?"
Artemisia appeared unable to stop touching herself while she gazed at her reflection. "It's odd. I doubt I will ever get used to my legs just being out here on display. But it's freeing."
I remembered the first times I wore breeches and the similar feelings in me. "It's a new feeling," I agreed. "Enjoy your masquerade tonight."
Artemisia took my hand and kissed my ring finger. "Thank you."