* RRRRRIIIIIIIIIP *
Oh, damn.
I pulled my arm out of my Italian wool suit jacket and examined the rip in the fabric. One of the seams under the right arm had split, opening up a large, unsightly hole that I was sure my little travel sewing kit wouldn't be able to patch.
"Hello? Front desk?" I asked, picking up the receiver on the bedside phone.
"Yes, sir?" came the reply from the other end of the line.
"This is Mr. Sanders in Room 573. Do you offer tailoring services here? I've unfortunately got a nasty tear on my suit coat."
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir, but we don't have a tailor on staff."
"Do you know of somebody in the area who might be able to do an emergency repair? I must have this for a meeting this afternoon, I can't be late."
I heard her fumbling through some papers. "I've got a name here for a tailor over on Fifth, might be able to help you. We've sent guests over before, might be worth a shot, mm?"
"That would be wonderful, thank you, I'll be down shortly for directions." I had a meeting in three hours and certainly didn't have time to go looking for a new suit jacket. I cursed my luck.
The receptionist at the front desk gave me the address and told me how to get there. It was only three blocks' walk, so I hot-footed it out of the hotel, suit jacket still draped across my arm.
Wandering through the old part of town down 5th Street, somewhat aimlessly, I saw the building the desk clerk had told me to look for. It was a rather unassuming brownstone but it had a green and yellow striped awning. I looked at the hanging sign displaying the street number - 415 South Fifth. Must be the place. I buzzed the door and it clicked open.
"Hello?" I asked, walking into the shop. It was a small place, one of those old-timey shops where you had the feeling the proprietor lived in the apartment upstairs and ran things out of the lower level. I half expected to have seen an old lady, her hair in curlers, running the wash through an upstairs window on a line between buildings.
"Hello, is anyone here?"
"Just a minute." came a response from a back room. English accent, I thought, maybe Irish. Pretty girlish voice. I sat on one of the parson's chairs in the front room, hoping I was in the right place. If not it might be quite the odd circumstance.
A redheaded woman ducked her head out a room down the hallway, then back in. "Sorry, just a bit longer."
I fidgeted with my suit jacket. A cool autumn breeze blew into the shop and I noticed that the door hadn't latched and was swinging open, so I went to close it. Finally I heard footsteps again, and the woman walked out of the room and down the hall towards me. She was maybe about 25, with long legs, shoulder-length hair, ample breasts, dressed demurely in tan pants and a white blouse that had a little lace ruffle at the top. Very pretty girl, I thought. I MUST be in the wrong place.
"Hello. May I help you?" she asked, smiling, her hands clasped together.
"Yes, I'm looking for Marcus? I'm looking for a tailor... do forgive me if I've stumbled into the wrong shop."
"No, quite the opposite, but I'm afraid Marcus is out of town for the week." She extended her hand. "I'm Julia. You're ...?"
"Lee. Lee Sanders. A pleasure, Julia." I said, tipping my hat and shaking her hand. "I suppose, then, I'll need to seek the assistance of another shop."
"To the contrary. What've you got? I'm sure I can take care of it." she said.
"Well, it's a rather expensive suit -- "
"Yes, I see," she said, running her slender, soft fingers along the fabric of the suit coat. "You got this in Milan, did you?"
"Yes, how did you --"
"I recognize the stitching work. Marcus is my father; he and I go to the trade shows every year to make sure we stay on top of the latest. Can't hardly mend something if you don't know how it was put together." she smiled.
I handed her the coat, noticing how pretty her eyes were. They weren't hazel, but rather a light green with flecks of gold and a little bit of chocolate brown.
"Oh, this is. Mmm." she frowned, her nose wrinkled. "Come with me, Lee."
She led me down the hallway to a workshop, a bigger room than I expected to see in a small row house like that, where bolts of fabric lined the wall like books and there must have been ten different kinds of sewing machines.
"Julia, I'm afraid I'm in quite a hurry --"
"No worries, I can fix this. I just have to make sure I have the right threads. This is a specific wool we don't use much. You've ripped this right up... you he-man, you." she said, giggling and squeezing my bicep. She lingered there for a couple seconds. Her fingers were warm and soft and she blushed slightly before tearing off into another room.
She returned with two spools of thread clutched in her hand and flung herself into a side chair by a sewing machine. It was an old antique model, sat down into a ornate wooden table made just for that purpose. It had either been in their family for decades, I thought, or they had paid a pretty penny at an antique shop. All I really cared about was whether it worked.
I walked over to observe and stood slightly behind her chair as she turned the coat inside out. She reached down and pulled a tool out of an open drawer in the table, and then started to pull the lining apart. She worked quickly, but masterfully - she obviously knew what she was doing. And from where I stood, I also had a good view of her cleavage. Her milky white skin was lightly freckled on top of her breasts, held closely together in the blouse by a nude-colored bra. Her neck was the same color, and I suddenly longed to touch her, to run my hand along her soft cheek, to smell her hair. I felt a twinge in my pants as my cock began to stir.
Julia had continued to work, gently removing the lining from the affected area of the suit coat, oblivious to my admiring her beauty. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, her eyebrows raised and lowered. It was as if her entire body was involved in her task. She took some thread and raised it to her eye, squinted, and satisfied it was the right color, extended her tongue and licked the end of it. Her tongue was a deep rose red, and I could only wish that it was the head of my cock she was licking. Involuntarily, I let out a slight moan.
Julia's concentration was broken and she turned her head to look at me. Her face was inches from my erect penis.
"Oh. My." she said, bringing her hand up to her lips. "Is, uh... is that for me?"
I gulped. "Uh... I, I'm sorry..."
