Souvlaki, The Hamburger of Greece.
"Stand nice and straight, Mr. Kotukus. I need to get your inseam."
"Uhhh, Yes Ma'am, like this? Carl stood straighter and separated his feet a little more.
Vivian held the end of the fabric tape loosely in her left hand. She was kneeling behind the young man standing in front of her on the raised platform. She peeked around the back of his legs at their reflection in the oversized, triple bay mirror. Her hand was flat like you might see in a statue of the Virgin Mary, but unlike a plaster Mary, Vivian's hand trembled as she slid it up between Carl Kotukus' slightly parted legs.
"You have to know how a man hangs—whether the balls ride to the left or right. It affects the cuff length. But you can't very well tell them what you are doing, now can you, Vivian? You have to feel it with the back of your hand when you're holding the tape between his legs."
That is what her aunt had taught her when she was a young girl learning her trade. At forty-five, Vivian Sweet was attractive and ambitious. She was the sole proprietor of "Vivian's Alterations and Tailoring." It was the same shop in the same location where she had worked for her Aunt after finishing high school. Sometimes she feared she was becoming the same spinster her Aunt had been.
Her Aunt died eighteen monthes ago with no children of her own to whom she could leave her business. Vivian had worked for other tailors and seamstresses but now, she finally had her own shop. All Vivian had done was change the name. As she got her business feet on the ground she improved things in a small renovating doses but she maintained the shop's small, village feel. She liked that; she liked her customers and they liked the intimate service she provided. Fashion advisor, clothing customizer, and confidant, Vivian brought out the best in her women.
A few of her Aunt's clients had drifted away after her passing and Vivian had cultivated some of her own. She now had a healthy base of regulars. She was careful to not schedule overlaps because she didn't want to lose the best asset of her practice, the one-on-one service she provided. Privacy was an issue too. Though the shop had a dressing room/ storage room in the back behind her main workroom, most of her women were comfortable walking around in slips or panties and bras. She was privy to much gossip.
She also took in a limited amount of dry cleaning and this is how she first met Carl Kotukus. He had come in a few times earlier in the month with his cleaning. From the first time she had laid eyes on him, Vivian felt a stir of excitement at the young man's good looks and intense tares. "is it possible he's even a bit taken with me?
"I found it at the Vintage clothing shop and I thought, maybe you could fix it to fit me. I'd like to wear it to my brother's wedding next month. I'm the best man."
‘No argument here; you're the best one I've seen lately.' Maybe it was his boyish charm or his shy manor that caused her to take him for the fitting. His dark Greek looks certainly didn't hurt.
"Let's just see what we have to work with first."
She was about to tell him the suit probably wasn't worth the extensive tailoring it would need but he was so attractive and she had some free time before her next appointment. When her hand reached the top of its travel she realized she had made a good decision. She felt the long, flesh cylinder against the back of her fingers as she nestled them up against his groin.
"33 inches, you certainly have a long…inseam, Mr. Kotukus." The young man grunted acknowledgement. He was terribly embarrassed as she held her hand there longer than he thought was necessary.
"Sooo…do you think it will work?"
After two attempts at longer relationships that ended in heartbreaks Vivian had resolved to be happy in her freedom as a single woman. The pressures of business ownership and the limits of her shyness made it difficult to have friends—‘forget dating.'
She worked with women all day. She worked intimately with them, often while they had practically nothing on. In the privacy of her fitting room Vivian was likely to hear anything. Some of her clients were beautiful or exuded a sensuality that affected her. After the long days in her shop she would go home and soak in a hot scented tub with a glass of wine. ‘Its enough to make a girl doubt her own hetero bias…' A sensualist and sexy beast, Vivian was starved for the sexuality she craved.
"Ummm, do you think you can alter the suit to fit me?"
Vivian's sense of propriety began to dissolve as she imagined just what might be hanging between his legs. He was her last appointment before lunch. Mrs. Fulton was scheduled for a fitting at Two O'clock. She had an hour and a half and her mind wandered over the possibilities. Vivian shamelessly slid her hand down his thigh trying to gauge his length with the back of her hand.
"I think I can make it work but you are so tall I'll need to get a better measurement. Why don't you slip the slacks and the jacket on with your shoes too?"
The young man shuffled a bit as if pondering some great question. He looked around trying to find a dressing room. ‘No need to direct this hunk to the dressing room in the back; what he doesn't know wont hurt him,' Vivian thought as she stepped back watching.
"I don't have a dressing room. My clients are all women. You can just change here. I'll busy myself with something while you do."
‘There, you said it, Vivian. Now let's see if he takes the next move. Though twice his age, Carl thought the seamstress was very sexy. She had nice legs with thin ankles and curvy calves. He liked the way her heels lifted out of her backless clogs when she knelt down to measure him. They were pale and softly crinkled. The blousy white shirt set off her fair complexion and the opened buttons at her neck accentuated her ample breasts. She wore her blond hair pulled back. Her reading glasses sat perched at the end of her pretty nose. A black, braided cord dropped from the ends behind her ears framing her face in two, thin loops. Full lips with a hint of a pout completed the picture; she looked younger than her age.
Kotukus was nervous about coming here. He knew the effect he had on women when they saw his size. But he had planned this trip to see the seamstress for two weeks since the first time he came to the shop to survey the situation. He didn't come down off the platform. He stepped out of his loafers, undid his slacks and pushed them down to mid-thigh, revealing the loose boxers to her in the mirror. ‘Hmmmm, silk, that's nice…and bare feet in loafers. That's nice too. My God, is that a toe ring?' Vivian thought as she closed her mouth.
"Don't worry, no one will walk in. I don't have another appointment till after lunch."
‘That was stupid, Vivian. What if he is a serial killer.' She looked over her shoulder to see if the door was locked. There were no un-curtained windows to contend with so Vivian's eyes were back on him in a moment. Vivian held her breath taking in the situation. She watched him slide the pants down his long legs.
‘Good musculature…listen to you, Vivian, you're positively depraved.' He stepped out of the pants and stood there in his Izod and silk boxers. Vivian's heart was pounding; the blood rushing in her ears. His skin was a lovely shade of olive with not a bit of hair. ‘Strange, for a Greek boy,'
"Could you hand me the slacks?"
‘Don't be stupid. You're not going to seduce this guy right here in the shop. Besides, you're old enough to be his mother. But…a little harmless teasing, what harm is there in that? He didn't balk when I grazed his big souvlaki with the back of my hand. Let's see where this goes, Viv.'
"Excuse me…" Kotukus interrupted her thoughts. "Could you hand me the suit pants?"
"Oh…I'm sorry. Of cour…" Vivian scrunched her nose, put her finger to in the corner of her mouth and cocked her head in a classic Rene Zellwigger pose. In fact, she resembled the actress. The blood rushed to her cheeks. She decided to up the ante.
"Wait! Maybe! …I mean…maybe I should re-measure you like this," she stammered.
