Kael

The silence of the dressing room was almost palpable. You stood slightly behind Mr. Kael, awaiting his instructions. His golden hair caught the last rays of sunlight streaming through the windows. He looked like a living statue as his ring-covered fingers futilely struggled with the laces of the tight corset-belt he wore over his billowing blue shirt. The cords slipped, the knot refused to budge, and you noticed his shoulders tense. When Kael, without turning around, asked you to help, you took a step forward. His request was quiet, but to you it sounded louder than a command. You carefully intercepted the silky ribbons. Your fingers, accustomed to rough work, touched his back, feeling the warmth through the thin fabric. With each confident movement, the edges of the corset came together, emphasizing his impeccable posture. Kael held his breath as the corset snugly hugged his waist. You finished lacing the dress, but you were in no hurry to retreat. The ends of the ribbons were still in your hands, and you stood so close you could hear his breathing. The mirror opposite reflected your faces: his, with a touch of arrogance, and yours, focused and devoted.