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Mew brought him to Bond Street, where famous designer shops crowded the street-front. The displays were arranged to flaunt how top-end and expensive the shops were. Mew pushed open the door to one of these stores. It didn't seem like the kind of place Gulf could enter dressed in his streer clothes---a down jacket, worn-out jeans, and dirty sneakers. Mew started pushing Gulf into the store, oblivious to his hesitation. Gulf screwed up his courage and went in, and all the saleswoman turned toward them in unison. Four or five saleswomen immediately gathered around Edward.
"Lord Jongcheveevat!"
"What can we do for you today?"
"We just got a shipment of things you're going to love, sir."
"I came to buy some clothes for my lady friend here," Mew said, winking at Gulf. It seemed the performance had begun.
All of the salesladies began complimenting Gulf.
Gulf answered their praise with a smile. If he spoke carelessly, the jig might be up.
"What are you looking for?" one woman asked.
"Everything," Mew replied decisively. "Everything in the store that suits her."
Gulf gasped. When they had first come into the store, he had glanced at the tag on an outfit in the window. It was equal to all the money he usually spent for three months.
The woman beamed. "That's the Lord Jongcheveevat we know. Everything will be ready in a moment."
It seemed that the women were used to this sort of thing and smiling cheerfully, they dispersed into the store searching for things that would look good on Gulf. And before very long, they had amassed a mountain of clothes in front of him. They immediately paraded their choices one after another.
"This bag is very popular. We only have one left in stock. It would look perfect on you, miss."
"And this coat..."
Gulf was easily bored stiff, but he suffered the presentations with smile after smile. When they had finished, he took an armful of clothes and closed himself off in a mirrored changing room.
The saleswomen had treated Gulf like he was a child. Thai people look quite young to Westeners and he looked like a pre-teen to them. They had probably told themselves that was why he had no breasts.
He changed into a pale skirt suit. He checked himself in the mirror to make sure nothing looked suspicious. But he had no reason to fear. His delicate feautures were too slight to ever suggest a man's face. Large bambi eyes. Tall nose. Full lips. And thanks to his negligence in getting his hair cut, his tresses fell to his shoulders. He understood as well as anyone else why the other students had so much fun making him dress as a girl in high school.
'To think I came all the way to England just to cross-dress again."
He laughed at himself derisively. But the girl in the mirror looked back coyly.
When he came out of the changing room, all the saleswomen heaped flattery on him, knowing their business well.
"How do I look?" Gulf asked Mew, smiling brightly.
Mew's eyes widened in surprised. "You're a beautiful lady, no doubt about it."
Three hours later, Gulf left the store completely transformed. He now wore a cashmere long coat in place of his down jacket, and a skirt instead of jeans. He had on leather high-heeled boots, not sneakers, and carried an expensive bag and showed off a beautiful watch.
Everything he wasn't wearing was sent to Mew's apartment. He didn't want to send the things to his own apartment anyway, but, if he had, it would have filled the room completely.
Mew took Gulf's hand as he got into a taxi. "I made lunch reservation for us at a hotel," he said.
They got out at the restaurant at the Hotel Ritz.
An ornate chandelier hung from the high ceiling, bathing the room in a vibrant glow. The restaurant was rated the best in London for food, service and ambiance.
A man who must have been the maitre d' appeared as soon as they arrived. "My Lord, we've been waiting for you," he said.
He guided them to a spot in the restaurant with an even better view.
Gulf walked with his arn linked with Mew. He was reluctant to be that close, but it distracted him from his inability to walk in his new shoes.
It was probably his imagination, but everyone seemed to be staring at them.
The maitre d' pulled his chair out for him and Gulf sat down. He took a deep breath and looked around once more.
Everyone was well-dressed. No one was wearing the jersey of their favorite soccer team, like they did in the pub where he worked.
"What will you have, Gulf?" Mew asked, opening the menu.
"I don't really know. I'll let you order for me," Gulf said, completely paralyzed by the prices he saw in the menu.
Mew called the waiter over and ordered their meal.
The wine came first. Mew didn't like it after doing a tasting, and so they brought another bottle. It was a good wine, and the sheer luxury of so easily opening another bottle shocked Gulf.
The meal was chilled Scottish salmon and roast beef, the foundation of all British cooking. Even though British food in general is quite disgusting, Gulf discovered that you get what you pay for---the meal was exquisite.
After they had eaten, they went to a shop on Regent Street and once more bought everyrhing in the store. Gulf rallied himself and pretended to enjoy the shopping. Then, starting to truly have fun, the two went to Harrods to buy wigs, make up, and women's underwear.
TBC