Haley can’t look away from Greg’s encouraging smile. Everything about his boss seems cast in shades of gold. The dark blond hair and lightly tanned skin. Those startling hazel eyes that can turn green, or piercing amber, depending on the available light. More important is Greg’s personality. Friendly. Patient. Not like the display specialists he works with all day. They look down on him, let him know it in subtle ways. And they never show him how to do anything when he asks, as if teaching him their job would make the work less special. Not a skill.

“That looks fine,” Greg says once his apprentice pins the shirt perfectly. Haley absorbs the approval like an eager kid. Someone making up for lost time. Possibly years of it, Greg thinks, engrossed in the odd magic of watching this burly guy dress a torso mannequin with such care.

Until Haley comes up against a problem. He can’t get the striped silk tie to form a proper knot. He’s never had much practice in his own life.

“Go over to the mirror and put it on,” Greg says. “Much easier to tie that way.”

“You mean easier on a live dummy?”

“I wouldn’t say that -- or think it.”

The multiple reflections of his boss fluster Haley. Suddenly he finds the dressing room too intimate, overwhelmed by the person who distracts him. He just knows he’ll mess up, and not only with the display. Almost since he started, he’s been attracted to Greg. Never does he let on, no matter how many times he’d like to. He’s seen the kind of guys his boss hangs with. They call on Greg after work sometimes. All of them are great looking. Professional. College smart.

“Need a little help there?” Greg says, after Haley bungles his third go with the tie. He doesn’t wait for a reply, grabs a footstool used for fittings so he can reach the taller man with ease.

“Watch closely how I do it.”

In front of the three-way mirror, Greg unties the messy knot and starts anew. He works from behind, his arms around Haley’s shoulders. Both men focus on the tie. Their faces are parallel, thanks to the footstool Greg stands on. The silk fabric hisses as he coils it around Haley’s neck.

He can feel the warmth of Greg’s body up close. Now and then, Greg’s breath tickles his ear. The nearness becomes more than Haley can bear. His arousal makes a noticeable display -- and in triplicate! -- within the dressing room mirror.

Greg pretends not to see. But he can’t seem to remove his arms from Haley’s shoulders. Instead, he fusses with the perfectly accomplished knot, fights the impulse to brush his lips against Haley’s ruddy skin. Something he wouldn’t do. He’ll never forget his first job in display, how his manager made repeated passes at him, then gave him a hard time for not complying.

His fingers let loose the tie. His arms withdraw from Haley’s broad shoulders as he steps off the footstool. “You can put it on the mannequin now. Then make sure the shirt is perfectly smooth against the torso, and double-check the shirt arms are pinned tightly in the back.”

“Kind of like a straitjacket,” Haley says a moment later, and to an empty room.