Bimbo 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.
Arinze looked at her waist, then back to her breasts and said, “Yes, yes, alterations are very much needed. Please step onto the fitting platform.”
Bimbo stepped out of the dressing room, into the bright lights and up onto the platform. Arinze stepped on it with her, his hands on her waist and the small of her back, pressing her toward the mirrors in front.
Bimbo 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.
Arinze’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 Bimbo could say anything, Arinze’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.
Bimbo 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.
Arinze stood behind this tall beauty, pushing her breasts together with growing force. Bimbo 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 breasts and flesh. Almost half of her areolas had tumbled out visibly.
Arinze envisioned his ample cock sliding in between the creases he was creating with her breasts. 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.
Bimbo 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.”
Arinze 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 Bimbo’s left nipple popped out. The edge of one of her areolas was becoming visible with Arinze’s shaking and handling.
He grabbed the dress at the sides near her shoulder, turned the fabric over, and explained how he would need to re-structure the garment to fit her.
Bimbo 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 a tailor-made him seem somehow less sexual to her and therefore less threatening. She had never thought of a tailor 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.
Arinze 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.
Bimbo 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 breasts bounced momentarily as he freed them, then rippled slightly as he adjusted the dress down.
“Oh!” Bimbo 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 Bimbo was analyzing the different angles provided by each mirror, the thin 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. Bimbo 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.
Bimbo’s dark 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 would 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.
Arinze 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.
Bimbo 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 a knock.
“We get package, Arinze!” a gravelly voice called out.
Bimbo nervously clapped her hands over her bare breasts. Her small hands were no match for her ample curves, but she paused, listening, and covering herself as best she could.
She heard Arinze’s soft voice and a laugh in response. Then the gravelly voice said, “Same problem different day. W go see tomorrow!”
Then there was a faint -thud-, presumably the door closing. Bimbo felt relieved and lifted her hands again, putting them on her head.
Moments later, Arinze 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. Arinze smiled…at her breasts.
Bimbo 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, and the dress cups were hanging to the side. Bimbo didn’t object to being exposed to him. She was disgusted but felt as though she were somehow under his control.
Bimbo 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 Arinze 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 breasts again bulged out indecently. Arinze 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 breasts, 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.
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