Copyright 2001 Marlene Taylor
Disclaimer: This original work of amateur fiction is based on the TV series "The Monkees" which (as far as I know) is owned by Rhino. This not-for-profit piece of fan fiction is not intended to infringe on that ownership. The author's copyright extends only to the original material in this work.
This story was inspired by the lovely photo you see below. Isn't that a cute outfit?
Micky stood in front of the mirror, frowning fiercely. This was the third outfit he had tried on and he still didn't like the way he looked. Oh, his hair was fine, and he knew he smelled good (just a touch of Love's Baby Soft after his bubble bath), but the clothes were wrong, all wrong. And Mike would be here any minute, expecting to find his lover looking chic and gorgeous.
Mentally he ran over the preparations he'd made for this evening: dinner in the oven and ready in an hour, flowers on the table, and a bottle of wine uncorked, waiting to be poured. Everything was perfect - except him. He wanted so badly to please Mike, but times like these when he just couldn't find a thing to wear - well, it made him so frustrated that he stamped his foot!
Just then the front door opened.
"Micky, honey, I'm home!" Mike called cheerfully. Now what could he do? Mike was expecting to be greeted with a kiss and here Micky was half-dressed in the bedroom, on the verge of tears because he couldn't decide what to wear.
"Where are you, babe? Somethin' sure smells good," Mike said from the kitchen. Micky resigned himself to what he had on and made his way down the stairs.
"Hi Mike," he said, managing a brave smile. "You're early, I wasn't ready yet" Mike swept him into his arms and gave him a long, lingering kiss.
"You look ready to me. Good enough to eat. Aw, Mick, what's wrong, baby?" he asked as Micky buried his face in Mike's shoulder.
"Oh, Mike, I wanted to look good for you but I simply couldn't!"
"Come on, babe, I love the way you look in that black dress," Mike said, holding Micky at arm's length to take in the sight of him in the tight shiny fabric that showed off his slender form so well. They'd seen it in the window of a hip new clothing store on the Strip, and Micky knew right away it was perfect for him: just short enough to show off his legs, cut low enough in the front to be tempting, with beautiful silver threads woven in around the cuffs and little frills down the back. Mike loved him in frilly things and Micky preferred them, too - so much more fun to dress up in! But even the most perfect ensemble needed a rest.
"But I wore this dress for you last night! You never buy me anything new!" Micky whined.
"What about that white mini-dress I got you last week?"
"That skirt was so short that if I sat down in it, I'd be arrested for indecent exposure. Besides, white makes me look fat." Micky pouted, knowing how adorable it made him look.
"If I had the money I'd buy you a hundred dresses, you know that. I'd buy you whatever makes you happy. And as much as I love you in that, I love you more out of it..." Mike trailed off as he ran his hands up Micky's thighs and under his hem.
"Oh, Mike, all I really want is for you to take me in your big strong arms and - " Whatever he was going to say next was lost forever as Mike silenced him with a passionate kiss, pulling him down on the couch for a pre-dinner quickie.
And watching all this through the kitchen window was Davy, his eyes wide with surprise...and envy.
The next day, when Mike was out, Davy sat on the bed next to Micky, his expression severe. "Look, Mick, I've got to talk to you."
Uh-oh, Micky thought. Those are never good words.
"I saw you last night, you 'n Mike. Of all the people in the world, I never thought you and Mike...well, let's just say I never would have expected to see you two tumbling around on the couch like - " He broke off as words failed him. Micky sat silently, waiting for whatever bad news he was about to get.
"And you in a dress! Playing the housewife for Mike! I bet you've got a whole closet full of them, haven't you?" He jumped up and pulled back the closet door to reveal Micky's stash of pretty, frilly clothes, all of them chosen lovingly by Mike, and removed from Micky's body even more lovingly. Davy snatched at a hanger and held out the little black number Mike adored.
"This is what you had on last night, isn't it, Micky?" Davy asked menacingly.
"Yes! Yes it is! And I'm not ashamed to admit it!" Micky cried, standing up, arms akimbo.
"Then I've got just one question for you, mate," Davy said, standing right in front of Micky so they were nose to nose. The tension crackled as the two men stared at each other. Finally Davy spoke:
"Can I borrow it tonight?"