My clothes aren’t here to seduce you ANISSA PRAQUIN

Anissa Praquin

My clothes aren’t here to seduce you, that’s my job

He said ‘I like the way you dress’ as if there were more to the outfit than a single item of clothing. I pause, thoughts suddenly caught up with the hem in the crease of my thighs. ‘There’s just something about a short skirthe says as it slips up to my waist with no give, no resistance, and plenty of room for a pair of hands to slip underneath. ‘If you really liked them, you wouldn’t be so eager to see them off.’ Now I am only wearing skin, settling into the familiar prickle as it adjusts to the fresh cold air. Now there can be no misinterpretation. It was a purely practical choice, meant only to cover me from there to here, easy to move in and to remove. A body bag. A burial shroud, pre-resurrection. It wasn’t meant to be a hint, or a tease, and the thought it might be sends hot blood rushing up my neck. Exposed by clothes. I should have turned up naked.