The Tailor - (Copied)

[hirarandi]

"Hi, I need to get a bridesmaid dress altered by Friday, will you be able to get it done in time?"

Jeanie was feeling hopeless. Her younger sister Cynthia's wedding was Saturday and she only had one week left to get this done. Now she was having a difficult time finding anyone who could finish it before the wedding.

"Well, that's the third place I've called in our area, Cynthia, and no one can get it done by Friday." 

"This is your fault, Jeanie. You procrastinated to the point where now you can't get it done in time for the wedding. What am I going to do?" Cynthia crossed her arms in frustration; she was livid. She wanted everything to be perfect and Jeanie was screwing it up.

The girl's father, Hank, who was in the next room watching a baseball game offered,

"You know, there's a tailor about two blocks away, down by that Asian store, you should go there. It's nothing fancy, but worth a shot."

The sisters exchanged doubtful looks.

"That's that Indian man that worked on John's tuxedo a few years ago. He was... weird." Cynthia made a face. 

"Weird? Who cares?! I don't care if he's weird, as long as he can get my dress altered in time." Jeanie picked up her phone. She was desperate. She wanted nothing more than to cross this off her list and get on with the other things she needed to do.

Jeanie called the tailor. A polite male voice with an Indian accent answered. To Jeanie's profound relief, the man was able to work her into his schedule and agreed to have the alterations done by Friday afternoon.

"Great!" She hung up. "He can do it!" Jeanie beamed, waving both clenched fists in the air. She gathered the dress hastily and headed out the door to meet with the tailor.

Jeanie Rossi was a classic mix of European roots and American beauty. She had obvious Italian ancestry, but was an American girl, through-and-through. Jeanie was tall and skinny with long, dark hair and flawless features. Belying her otherwise lean frame, she was also a very large-breasted woman. Her top-heavy, skinny-waisted build presented a distinct challenge when shopping for off-the-rack clothes. The bride's maid dress needed to be let out in the chest area and taken in around the waist. She had had this type of alteration done before and considered it fairly routine. 

She wanted to get the dress just right; classy but distinct. This was her first wedding since her divorce and she hadn't considered herself "on the market" officially. She didn't want to advertise the size of her "girls," as she called her breasts, just yet. She seemed to always attract the wrong sort of guys whenever she wore a shirt or dress that accentuated her breasts. Men went crazy over her tits. 

There was simply no hiding the fact that she was well-endowed, but she hoped the dress wouldn't show off her body too much.

Jeanie thought back to her three-year marriage with Don. Sex and addiction seemed to define the relationship. Don had a problem using escorts and snorting cocaine. Jeanie considered it a minor miracle that she didn't catch any diseases from that low life. The two had met at a Halloween party where she was dressed as a pirate's wench, a costume that showcased her 36G breasts.

In those days, she happily flaunted her largest assets. Back then, she absolutely loved when men drooled over her tits. And she loved having them played with. Jeanie would become incredibly turned on when a lover would focus his attention on her enormous breasts and big puffy nipples. 

After meeting Don at the party and hooking up that night, the two entered a frenzied courtship. Marriage followed shortly thereafter. It began as a passionate, physically-gratifying relationship, but Don's bad habits reared-up before too long: his cheating, his lying, his alcohol, and drug abuse. They all resulted in her suffering.

It only lasted three years, but his preoccupation with sex and drugs had taken its toll on Jeanie. Now, in her post-divorce life, she has been dressing more conservatively. Probably too much so, but it was better to overcompensate in the hope that she will not attract guys like Don into her life ever again.

Unfortunately, Jeanie began her new life as a divorcee with a chip on her shoulder, hating men in general, and especially those who made a big deal about her appearance. She even went on a date with a lesbian friend-of-a-friend to see if she could avoid men altogether, but it just made her even more uncomfortable.

Jeanie brought her attention back to her drive to the tailor. She'd left the house in a rush, and was dressed casually in shorts and a V-neck blouse with one of her more utilitarian bras. When she looked at the dress at home, she discovered that it had a built-in bra, so she wouldn't need a dressier bra for the fitting. 

She pulled in to a parking space in the shopping center that consisted of shops catering primarily to a south Asian clientele. She was relieved that she was finally taking steps to get this errand completed. She should have had this done weeks ago.

The parking lot and building weren't in the best condition and the alteration shop fit the same aesthetic. Dust and old, neglected plants lined the window. Two green, vinyl-covered seats sat to the left, a sales counter to the right. A yellowed calendar hung on the wall that looked to be of Indian origin. Was it even the right year? There were long beads hanging across a doorway; an entrance to the back of the store. The smell of incense permeated the space. 

She guessed that the tailor was Indian or Pakistani. 

"Hello?" Jeanie said cautiously, then gently rang a bell on the counter.

She heard a voice with an Indian accent come from the back of the shop. "Yes, yes. Please, one moment." 

After a brief wait, the beaded curtain parted. A short, black-haired man with a dark tan complexion greeted her with a broad, white smile. He looked to be in his forties.

"Come this way." He motioned to the back. They walked down a hallway with dirty walls and carpet that hadn't seen a vacuum for some time, past a dark restroom. At the end of the hallway, they entered a large, brightly lit room with an elevated deck surrounded by six, full-length mirrors. The space reminded her of the few other alteration shops she had been to. Dresses and suits in bags were hung on wheeled racks that were pushed up against the walls. Three tables were situated between the clothes racks with fabric and measuring tape laying upon them. 

As they entered the room, the man spun sharply on his heel to face her. He extended his hand, "My name is Ajeet." Jeanie smiled and placed her hand in his, expecting a shake. Instead, he raised it to his lips and kissed the top of it as one might do to a debutante or a Lady. 

His sudden, unexpected charm caught Jeanie off guard. 

"Oh! Okay. I'm Jeanie, nice to meet you, Ajeet." She blushed. 

"We spoke on the phone, yes? You need expedited alterations?"

Jeanie nodded.

"Please..." he motioned for her to step up, taking the dress from her. 

He put the dress on a hanger, then hung it on a nearby clothes rack and turned to Jeanie. Without another word, he smoothed her clothes against her body, and grabbed her hips and waist firmly. With tape measure in hand, he began stretching it across various places over her body. His touch was confident and firm. He seemed to take liberties in touching her over her clothes. She didn't remember other tailors doing this, but gave him the benefit of the doubt. She suspected he did this to see what type of body she had under her baggy clothes. 

He had what Jeanie felt to be expert hands; they were quick and sure. His fingers were long and she could tell he knew what he was doing. He was nimble and lithe. 

Jeanie was starting to feel a bit awkward, having this relative stranger putting his hands all over her, so she blurted out, "Thank you."

Ajeet paused briefly to regard her with a raised eybrow and Jeanie expounded. "I mean thank you for taking me on such a short notice. I don't know if you remember or not, but I need this for a wedding on Saturday."

"Yes, yes. A wedding. Saturday. I can have this completed by Friday. Now, please take the dress and disrobe. Come out with the dress on."

He motioned to one of two dressing rooms by the fitting area that had a curtain hung across the opening for privacy.

Jeanie tugged the red, velvet curtain closed. Although there was a gap where the curtain met the wall, Jeanie felt confident that Ajeet would respect her privacy. She decided it would be safe, so she took off her shorts and T-shirt, and removed her bra.

Now in just her panties, she carefully stepped into the chocolate-brown dress and wiggled it up to her hips. Plenty of space there. She worked the dress up to her torso, but it caught as she tried pulling it around her chest. She stopped to un-zip the back, then tried again, cramming her massive boobs into the tight bust area. 

She tried as best she could to fit all of her breasts into the garment.

Turning, Jeanie looked in the floor length mirror. Her bosom was bulging out of the top like some adult cartoon character. Her broad curves flowed out above the built-in cups, with her nipples sticking out way past the hem.

'I can't go out there like this. It's inappropriate.' She felt embarrassed at the size of her breasts and what the dress was doing to exaggerate their already enormous proportions.

She pushed and crammed her creamy breasts down into the dress. After several attempts, she'd managed to tuck most of her nipples into the fabric, but the dark outer rims of her areolas were still visible. She had begun to sweat from the effort. She didn't want to rip the dress, so she had to be satisfied with her breasts busting out of the top.

"Um, Mr. Ajeet?" She called from behind the curtain.

She heard him shuffle over. "Yes?" She could see his sandal-clad feet from under the curtain. 

"I can't go out there, the dress is too small." Jeanie whined.

"Miss, that is precisely why you are here, is it not? You are here to have the dress let-out in the bust and taken-in at the waist. If it fit you properly, you wouldn't need my services." 

"I guess you're right. Okay, here I come, but don't laugh." Jeanie opened the curtain and stood in the dressing room with a pout on her face. 

Ajeet did not notice how endowed the woman was when she first walked into his shop five minutes ago. He suddenly found himself looking at the sexiest sight he had ever seen, especially-as a male tailor who worked with bridal gowns and bridesmaid dresses- she was like a fantasy come to life.

He had an extremely difficult time not grabbing and groping her breasts right then and there. 

Her cleavage occupied her entire chest. The curves projected outward like halves of a perfect sphere. They were wobbling from being constrained within the tight dress. Even the darker brown edges of her nipples were slightly peeking out. She had pulled her brown hair up into a makeshift bun which brought more attention to her cream-colored neck. 

He thought her breasts were divine. Perfectly accentuated by the dress. He instantly longed to see more of her. 

Jeanie watched as the tailor moved his eyes all over her body. He appeared delighted with her figure. Like all the other men in her experience, he couldn't keep his eyes off of her breasts. She was embarrassed by his attention. 

'This is exactly the sort of reaction I want to avoid.' She thought.

Ajeet looked at her waist, then back to her breasts and said, "Yes, yes, alterations are very much needed. Please step onto the fitting platform."

Jeanie stepped out of the dressing room, into the bright lights and up onto the platform. Ajeet stepped on it with her, his hands on her waist and the small of her back, pressing her toward the mirrors in front. 

Jeanie looked into the mirror in front of her. She felt awful. She had been contemplating having her breasts reduced in size, and this just reaffirmed her decision.

Ajeet's face appeared behind her, over her shoulder, looking at her through the mirror.

"I will have to touch you to get the fitting right," he warned.

Before Jeanie could say anything, Ajeet's hands were on the outside of each breast. He pressed them together, gently at first, then with growing firmness. Her breasts squished against one another, deepening her cleavage. The dress slipped slightly, revealing more creamy flesh.

He stared at her through the mirror. "Hands up. Over your head," he instructed curtly.

Jeanie moved automatically in response, jerking nervously. She awkwardly raised her arms, then moved her hands to hold her hair up in a more natural pose. She watched the man's hands press on the outside of her breasts.

Ajeet stood behind this tall beauty, pushing her breasts together with growing force. Jeanie gasped in disbelief as his hands pressed up and then inward from the outside of the garment. He smashed them together from her sides creating a ridiculous display of tit flesh. Almost half of her areolas had tumbled out visibly.

Ajeet envisioned his ample cock sliding in between the creases he was creating with her tits. Her breasts felt exquisite, soft, heavy, full. His dick was becoming erect. He made no effort to hide his growing stiffness, carelessly bumping against her with his bulge. 

Jeanie could feel the lump drag across her butt cheeks. She became tense.

"Your breasts are heavy and require extra support for a dress like this."

Ajeet moved around to her front. He cupped a hand under each breast and began lifting them in his palms. He seemed to be trying to gauge their weight and firmness.

"They bulge out of this material," he spoke clinically, as if sharing information she didn't already know. 

"The sides here will need to be held from the shoulders."

He bounced her breasts from the sides. Now, the extended bump of Jeanie's left nipple popped out. The edge of one of her areolas was becoming visible with Ajeet's shaking and handling. 

He grabbed the dress at the sides near her shoulder, turned the fabric over, and explained how he will need to re-structure the garment to fit her.

Jeanie could tell he knew what he was doing, and began to feel a little more comfortable, even though his hands were squeezing her breasts.

The fact that he was an Indian man made him seem somehow less sexual to her and therefore less threatening. She had never thought of an Indian man as a potential suitor.

He wasn't the sort of man that she had ever had romantic dealings with-one way or another-and, strangely, she felt almost as if she were at a doctor's office. 

"I will need to fit you with the cups. This requires more touching." He warned again.

Apparently, everything he was doing required a great deal of touching. 

Ajeet resumed his position behind her and put his hands below her arms. He slid his fingers into the dress and moved his hands forward. He scooped his hands against her bare flesh and pulled each naked breast out from each cup. He began gripping and feeling each one, his strong fingers dragging across her nipples. 

Jeanie supposed this was a bit excessive, but gave him the benefit of the doubt. After a brief moment of squeezing, he abruptly pulled the entire chest section of the dress down. Her tits bounced momentarily as he freed them, then rippled slightly as he adjusted the dress down.

"Oh!" Jeanie was surprised by the aggressive approach. Her nipples hardened as they were exposed to the cooler air.

She regarded her full, naked breasts, multiplied by the six mirrors, feeling quite exposed. This feeling was magnified by the bright lights. She didn't remember this happening with any other tailor. She was beginning to feel as though she was being exploited.

While Jeanie was analyzing the different angles provided by each mirror, the thin Indian man set to his work. He brandished a small seam splitter and was cutting threads and stitching here and there. He used his hands to move and reposition each bare breast often. He would regularly return his hands fully onto her breasts, pausing to lift and feel them. Jeanie couldn't stifle her gasp when he, very gently, pinched her nipples nonchalantly. He made an inquisitive sound, looking at her thick nipples between his index finger and thumb, then resumed fiddling with her seam.

Jeanie's dark red nipples became embarrassingly hard and her areolas began to shrink from the stimulation. To her surprise, his touch was causing her to become slightly aroused. She still had her hands over her head, as instructed.

Her breasts were hanging in front of her looking soft and smooth. The strange man behind her made them shake and wobble from his work. Her hard nipples pointed straight ahead. He'd pull out a stitch, palm her broad breasts, then pinch her nipples. Each time he let go, her nipples ached for more. She felt her time to protest his handling of her breasts had passed her by. 

Ajeet brusquely positioned her body to face him and used both hands to lift her left breast and reposition in its cup within the dress. He did the same for the right breast. Then, he used a piece of chalk to mark something on the shoulder. He took the breast out and scratched his chin. Without a word, he then left.

Jeanie stood there topless, waiting. She heard feet shuffling on a carpet and then a quiet "WHOOSH." The air in the room shifted slightly and she realized someone must have opened the front door to the shop, back in the waiting room. She heard the bell chime.

"Package, Ajeet!" a gravelly voice called out.

Jeanie nervously clapped her hands over her bare tits. Her small hands were no match for her ample curves, but she paused, listening, and covering herself as best she could.

She heard Ajeet's soft voice and a laugh in response. Then the gravelly voice said, "Same shit different day. See you tomorrow!"

Then there was a faint -thud-, presumably the door closing. Jeanie felt relieved and lifted her hands again, putting them on her head.

Moments later, Ajeet returned, carrying a pencil and pad of paper. He looked at her bare breasts, then to her face.

"This dress is going to accentuate your breasts a great deal," he addressed her in his clinical tone and friendly accent. "It cannot be helped, it is just how it is cut...and how you are built. I can let it out, but even when I do, it will only cover a little more than half of your breasts. It is not made for a woman of your exquisite stature." 

His gaze dropped again. Ajeet smiled...at her tits.

Jeanie ignored his compliment. It dawned on her that this fitting wasn't as professional as it should be. But something held her in place, frozen.

He stood back looking right at her bare chest. Both breasts were out again, nipples hard as nails, the dress cups were hanging to the side. Jeanie didn't object to being exposed to him. She was disgusted, but felt as though she were somehow under his control.

Jeanie thought about the wedding before commenting on his remark.

"No, that's not okay. I don't want to show too much of my breasts." 

She looked down at her naked breasts and shook her head. 'Why are my breasts exposed?' She looked back up at Ajeet and covered them with her hands as best she could.

He responded, "This is not a serious, problem. I can do two things: I can attach a piece of fabric to the top like this."

He grabbed both breasts and situated them into her cups as their size would allow, then straightened the dress over them. Her tits again bulged out indecently. Ajeet reached down to a table that had small swatches of fabric and selected a small, rectangular piece. He placed it handily over the broad tops of her tits, pressing and squeezing them. Finally, he tucked two corners of the triangle into her dress so the fabric would stay in place, covering most of her cleavage.