The Gifted Flesh of Chernograd — 2. Russian Eros

The coarse linen shirt, cut short through the thigh and close across the chest and shoulders, concealed little of the powerful structure beneath it. The narrow working trousers followed the hard lines of his hips and legs with unsettling clarity, their severe practicality rendering his physical strength more apparent rather than less.

And now that Varvara understood their concealed construction — the hidden seams beneath the inner thigh, the discreet fastenings disguised within the stitching, the folded openings permitting access to the body without complete undressing — she found herself incapable of regarding the clothing innocently.

Not because it appeared indecent.

Because it did not pretend otherwise.

The garments acknowledged openly that the body enclosed within them was not entirely private. Accessibility had been incorporated into the design from the beginning — not theatrically, not obscenely, but pragmatically, as one might arrange harness buckles or riding straps for efficiency of use.

That simplicity disturbed her far more profoundly than vulgarity could have done.

Yelena noticed the direction of her gaze.

«Besides,» she added lightly, «I suspect the servants will find themselves occupied by other curiosities this morning.»

A faint warmth rose into Varvara’s cheeks. Yet even that embarrassment no longer resembled the sharp mortification she might once have felt. It seemed softer now, threaded with reluctant amusement — and with something else she had not yet entirely named.

The morning had altered her more than she wished to admit.

«Well», she said after a pause, «then breakfast first and propriety afterwards.»