Made To Measure 1

This story has been knocking about in my head for years, and is based (very loosely) on a real experience I had.

As always, thank you to shorterversion for all her help and endless patience in getting this one over the line.

Ratings are all good (and I do like a good rating!), but constructive feedback is always welcomed. Also, if you have a suggestion for a topic then please do share.

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Phil turned the business card over in his hands again, checking the company name and address.

"Turner, Smith and Lawrence - Bespoke Tailors" the gold writing announced on the black background of the card. The address and phone number were on the back in a calligraphy-style typeface.

Phil checked the address and looked up and down the street, the buildings seemingly unchanged since Victorian times. He spotted the shop he was looking for and crossed the quiet street before heading up the steps to the entrance.

As he opened the door, a little bell rang just above his head, and a rather portly if well-dressed man looked up from his newspaper and looked Phil up and down with an eyebrow raised.

"May I help you?" the gentleman asked, looking at Phil over his glasses. His accent had that perfect clipped English tone that you would only expect to hear in these sorts of places.

"Yes," Phil stammered. "I have an appointment for a suit fitting. The name's Carter, erm, Phil Carter." He noticed the brass name tag attached to the breast of the man's waistcoat. It said that man's name was "Albert".

"Hmm..." Albert opened a leather-bound book and ran his finger down the page. "Ah yes! Mr. Carter! I see we have you booked in to be measured for a tuxedo. 11:30, if I'm not mistaken."

"That's right!" Phil looked around the dark wooden panelled walls of the room and realised that the inside looked rather more Victorian than the outside. "Sorry, I'm a few minutes early."

"That's not a problem, young man. You can take a seat in our waiting room." Albert nodded in the direction of a room off to his right, and Phil followed his direction to see an open door with a small brass plaque on it that clearly read 'Waiting Room'.

"I believe I'm correct in saying that you've never used our services before. Is that correct, Mr. Carter?"

"That's right," Phil replied. "You've been recommended to me by a work colleague."

"Excellent! Now, as I said, if you just pop into the waiting room, Monica will be through to take your measurements shortly." Albert gestured again towards the room, and as Phil turned to the room, he went back to his newspaper, almost as if Phil was no longer there.

Phil entered another low-lit, wood-panelled room. This room had a line of green, leather backed chairs down one wall and a large glass showcase on the other. The showcase was filled with watches, cufflinks and tiepins, along with a selection of show styles and colours. Suits of varying designs and colours hung on the wall above the show case.

Phil took a seat and took in the room around him. It was everything you would imagine a Savile Row tailor's shop to look like, and Phil chuckled to himself at the absurdity of his surroundings.

As his new role had meant that he was going to more and more functions, having to hire a dinner suit every other week was becoming not only awkward but very expensive! He'd looked for an off-the-shelf suit, but none seemed to fit as well as he liked. Either the arms were too long, or it was too tight around the chest, or it made him look like a bouncer in a nightclub rather than the executive he was aspiring to be.

He'd asked one of his colleagues, who had passed him the card that he was now turning in his hands. "Excellent service!" his colleague had added. "You won't get a better fitting suit anywhere in London for that matter."

Phil had never had any sort of suit fitting, other than the type you got at the hire places, and that usually went no further than the assistant holding a selection of jackets in front of him until one looked about right. Even once they had his details on record, there was usually a bagged-up suit waiting for him when he went to collect.

"Mr. Carter?" A voice came from the doorway, shaking Phil out of his daydreams and causing him to look up at the figure standing in the waiting room doorway. Wearing an outfit not dissimilar to an air stewardess stood Monica, according to the brass name badge she was wearing.

Phil stood, and Monica offered her hand in greeting. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Carter."

Her hair was swept back into a tight bun, and she had a green and red scarf tied around it. The only thing that didn't fit the image was the small notepad on a lanyard around her neck, which Phil assumed was for making notes. She had the same clipped accent as the gentleman at the front desk, but Phil was sure he could detect an underlying accent, possibly Eastern European, he thought. Monica couldn't have been more than 5'3" in Phil's estimation, and her delicate frame matched her stature. He would have put her age in her late 20s, if he'd had to place it.

He reached out and shook her hand; she had a surprisingly strong grip for such a slight woman.

Releasing his hand, Monica gestured out of the waiting room. "If you'd please follow me, then we can get started."

Phil followed her out of the waiting room and across the reception area. Albert never looked up from his paper as they passed his desk and entered the room marked 'Measurement and Fitting'.

As he passed through the door Phil saw what he assumed to be three large changing cubicles, each with a dark green velvet curtain across the front. Monica opened the curtain to the second cubicle revealing a white panelled interior with a full-length mirror on each of the walls. A stool stood in one corner; the other corner had a low cabinet with shelves above it.

Monica gestured for Phil to step into the cubicle and followed him in, drawing the curtain behind them.

Taking out a pencil and fabric tape measure, Monica spoke. "Now Mr. Carter, if you'd just like to remove all items of your clothing and place them on the shelf over there, then I can take your measurements." Her voice was calm and business-like.

"I didn't realise I had to be naked for this!" Phil's voice waivered a little as his nerves started to rise. "Are you sure this is strictly necessary?"

"Oh course, Mr Carter," Monica said flatly. "We pride ourselves here at making the best fitting garments that we can, and clothing can throw out our measurements. So, if you wouldn't mind, we can get started."

Monica stood behind him, and through the mirror, Phil could see a level of impatience cross her face. He certainly hadn't been expecting this, but he remembered what he had been told, and with a shrug, he started to undress.

Monica's expression never changed, even when Phil bent down to pull his boxers over his ankles. He then placed them on the shelf with his other clothes and watched his naked reflection look back at him through the full-length mirror.

In his defence, he didn't look too bad for his 50 years. Standing just shy of 6', he'd kept himself in shape, although his stomach wasn't as flat as it was 20 years ago. He'd just started to show signs of grey in his hair, and unlike a lot of his contemporaries he still had all of it and kept it cut in a short but shaggy style. His body still bore a few traces of the summer tan, and he kept his body hair to a minimum.

Monica wasted no time. "Arms up please, Mr. Carter." Again, that pure business-like tone as she popped the pencil in her mouth and unfurled the tape measure.

She started by measuring from his shoulder to his wrist, and then between his shoulder blades. After each measurement, she would flip the tape measure over her shoulder and take the pencil from her mouth to scribble down the last value.

All the time, Phil kept his eyes focused forwards, trying not to make eye contact and keep things on a professional level. Monica took measurements from his neck to his waist and then sank to her knees behind him as she noted the length of his legs.

Monica stood back up and moved round Phil's side, then in front, between his physical and reflected self. "If you'll excuse me, I'll need to take some more measurements." She looped the tape measure round his neck, then around his chest and then around his waist, all the time stopping to make a note in her pad each time.

Again, she sank to her knees in front of him. Putting one end of the tape measure just below his ankle, Monica ran the measure up the inside of Phil's left leg. He jumped involuntarily as she pushed his balls to one side in order to get the tape measure the full length of his inner thigh. Monica didn't flinch or waiver, instead just making a note before repeating the process on his right leg. Even though he was expecting it this time, it still sent a shockwave through his core as the back of her hand brushed against his ball sack.

Monica made another note and then stood before reaching into the cabinet. "Thank you for your patience, Mr. Carter." Monica sat on the stool and pulled a wipe from the pack of antiseptic wipes she had retrieved from the cupboard. "I have one more measurement to make, and if you could remain still then it would make my job much easier."

With that, she took Phil's cock in her hand and proceeded to clean it with the wipe. Her business-like demeanour never changed as she lifted it up to wipe underneath and held it to the side so she could make sure that his entire groin had been cleaned.

Phil stood there in utter shock; his mind was telling him to move, but his body was betraying him, and slowly but surely, his cock started to grow in her hand.

Satisfied that he was all clean, Monica released Phil's cock as it continued to rise in front of her face. She delved back into the cabinet and replaced the wipes with a bottle of lube and, in a fluid movement, pumped a quantity of lube into her hand.

Phil didn't know where to look. His jaw moved but no words came out. On one level, he did realise the ludicrous nature of this situation. Standing, stark naked, in front of a woman he had met a mere 10 minutes ago, with his pulsing cock mere inches from her face. If it wasn't so bewildering, he'd have laughed.

Instead, he shuddered as Monica wrapped a lubed hand around his shaft. His cock was by no means big, but Monica's petite fingers couldn't quite reach all the way round. He took a moment to look down as she started to rhythmically stroke his cock.

Her expression never changed and her technique, while not strictly mechanical, wasn't exactly what Phil would have called 'caring'. Nonetheless, his cock was reacting and had reached its full girth.

Monica never changed her pace and just kept her firm grip as she slid her hand up and down Phil's length relentlessly.

Phil looked away and caught not only his reflection in the mirror, but also something else. Unbeknownst to him, the curtain behind him had been opened, and standing at the entrance to the cubicle were two women. They were both dressed in similar outfits to Monica, and if it wasn't for their hair colour then Phil might not have been able to tell them apart. They both had notepads in their hands, and one was writing in hers.

Phil Jumped at the sight and tried to step backwards. Monica just kept her grip and without looking up said, "Please don't move, Mr. Carter. I'm nearly done here. These are my associates, Stacy and Claire. We take our quality control very seriously here, and we monitor individual's performance so we can always improve our service."

She never let up in her stroking, but still never changed her pace and Phil started to feel that familiar knot beginning to build in his balls. He was about to warn Monica that he was going to cum, but there was no need. She had already spotted the signs as his balls started to tighten.

Monica stopped her stroking and used her fingers to apply pressure just behind the head of his cock. This had the desired effect of preventing, or at least delaying, the impending orgasm. At which point she whipped out the tape measure and measured his cock from tip to balls. She released her grip completely and made a note in her pad. "Leans up and to the left." Monica noted as she scribbled in the pad again.

Phil looked up in the mirror to see Stacy and Claire both writing in their pads, and he was about to ask them what they were writing when Monica started to stroke his cock again. This time, there was a bit more urgency to her stroking as if she was now running over schedule.

Over the slick sounds her hands were making on his cock, Monica spoke. "Thank you for your patience and co-operation, Mr. Carter." Monica's tone still had that business-like edge to it. "Through experience we have found that many tailors only factor in measuring for a gentlemen in a, well, let's say benign state, shall we? What we have come to realise is that you need to leave room for growth when tailoring a pair of trousers, and in your case that's especially so. You see, when I first saw you naked, I really didn't expect to see as much of a difference in your size. I must say that I've been impressed! Don't worry though, I won't take up too much more of your time."

All the time she was talking, she never stopped pumping Phil's cock, and he was very nearly back to the point of no return once more. The hair on the back of his neck started to prickle as his whole nervous system focused on the inevitable and upcoming release.

Again, his balls tightened, and as before he opened his mouth to warn Monica of his impending orgasm. There was no need, as again she'd seen the signs. She stopped stroking and opened her mouth. Leaning forward she took his length in her mouth and reached round to grab his arse, pulling him deeper.

She sucked on his cock and her tongue moved at the same pace as her hand had been moving before, rhythmically milking his cock as he finally exploded in her mouth.

Phil felt his legs go weak as his cock swelled and the first jet of his seed filled Monica's mouth. She kept sucking as Phil's orgasm consumed him, and she held his body tight to keep him in her mouth. He shook with every contraction, each one sending another stream down her throat.

Even when his orgasm started to subside Monica still kept sucking on his cock, only stopping when it began to soften in her mouth. She released him from her grip, and he took a shaky step back. Monica took a moment to wipe a small drop of semen from the corner of her mouth before sucking it from her finger.

Phil looked from Monica's face to his rapidly deflating cock and saw a perfect red ring of lipstick about halfway down the shaft. He then looked at his reflection in the mirror and noted that both Stacey and Claire had both disappeared, and the curtain was once again closed.

Monica reached into the cabinet and took out the wipes again. Gently holding Phil's sensitive cock, she proceeded to clean it again just as she had before, taking care to remove the lipstick marks. Phil winced a couple of times, although his cock seemed to twitch in appreciation of Monica's touch.

As she placed the wipes in a small bag she had retrieved from the cabinet, Monica stood and offered her hand just as she had when they first met.

"I now have all I need, and I'll pass your measurements and my notes to my associates. They will be in touch once they have mocked up a suit for you to try on."

Phil shook Monica's hand, by automatic response more than anything else. His mind and body were reeling from what had just happened.

She brushed past him and opened the curtain, revealing an empty room. "Please take your time in getting dressed again. I am aware that this process can be a bit disorientating for the first measurement, so I'll leave you to yourself. Again, thank you for your time and patience today. It's been a genuine pleasure to measure you. If you can just give your availability to Albert on your way out, that would be perfect."

With that Monica drew the curtain behind her, and Phil was left alone in the room with nothing but his thoughts and a pile of clothes in the corner.

He started to dress, and his mind was still trying to compute what had just happened. His colleague had said that the service was excellent, and that was true, but Phil wondered if everyone had the same treatment, and if not, why was his experience different from others.

Just as he was sitting on the stool, tying his laces, there was a rap on the door. "Mr. Carter?" Albert's voice came through the door. "I don't mean to rush, but we do have another appointment in ten minutes. May I ask if you'll be ready to leave?"

"I'll just be a moment!" Phil called back as he stood, still a little shakily.

"Excellent! That would be perfect!" came the voice from the other side of the door.

Phil took a deep breath as he reached for the door handle and opened it.

"I trust everything was to your satisfaction, Mr. Carter." Albert's eyes followed Phil as he walked across the reception to the desk.

"Yes. Thank you. The service has been over and above anything I've expected, and Monica was professional and incredibly thorough from start to, erm, finish." Phil felt himself blush as those last words left his mouth.

"Good, good!" exclaimed Albert as he pushed the ledger to the edge of the desk, turning it to Phil. "If you could just sign against your order, then we can proceed with your suit."

Phil signed where Albert indicated, struggling a little with the fountain pen.

Albert nodded, seemingly happy with the transaction. "I look forward to seeing you when you return." With that, he took the ledger back and resumed his seat behind the desk.

Phil took that as his cue to leave and turned, heading for the door. As he opened it, ringing the little bell above it, Albert called after him.

"Mr. Carter? Apologies, I forgot to mention. Monica has requested that you make sure that she is available when booking your appointment. She would very much like to attend your fitting, just to make sure her measurements are up to scratch. "Thank you, Albert. Of course I can do that." Phil smiled as he returned to the desk and checked his phone to see when he could find a time.

"How about next Thursday at 2pm?" Phil suggested.

"That's absolutely wonderful, Mr Carter," Albert said, beaming. "I'm make sure that Monica isn't booked for another fitting. She will be pleased!"

Albert wrote the appointment on a card, despite the fact Phil had already entered it into his phone. Phil checked the card and then tucked it into his pocket as he turned and walked away from the desk.

"Until Thursday, Mr. Carter." Albert waved as Phil opened the door again, causing the little bell to chime once more.

"Until then, Albert." Phil doffed an invisible cap and closed the door behind him, embracing the cool spring air as he walked down the steps and looked round for a taxi. The reality of the experience suddenly stopped him in his tracks. What on earth was going to happen on Thursday if Monica had specifically asked to see him again? He shook his head in disbelief as a taxi pulled up in front of him. Phil had no clue, but he was certainly looking forward to finding out.