A special thanks to Literotica member, Smoothed for his editing and exceptional creative input.
The Tailor is a work of erotic fiction that contains mild bondage and interracial sex between a white woman and south Asian (Indian) man. If this content is not to your liking, please find a story more suitable to your tastes.
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"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?"
