She picks up a folder from her workbench. “There are several styles of suits that I’ve been working on. Are you a bold-statement type of man? Or more one for classic elegance?”
“Firstly, you will most definitely be charging me. I am a client. And secondly. I trust the designer. So it’s in your hands.” My eyes trace over her body. The dress hugs every curve, teasing me, making me want to run my hands down her back and over her ass.
She flips open the folder, and her drawings fill my vision. She’s good. Not just good. She’sbrilliant. The first picture is a black suit. Classic, but with subtle twists. Surprising, small changes that catch the eye and make it stand out against the norm.
She turns the page, chattering away about what she’s added or removed from each piece and why she thought it would work.
I love all of them. Maybe it’s because she’s brilliant, maybe it’s because it’s her, and I can’t help but love everything about her.
“Wow.” I stop her from turning to the next page, placing my hand on the image of a black suit with neon orange and grey trim patterned over the jacket and pants in geometric designs that subtly mimic a circuit board. “What is this?” I stammer.
“It’s a futuristic design. Something that pushes the limits a bit more than I imagine most people would like.”
“Are you kidding? This is the one I want to wear to the gala. This is so bold and unique, it will be the center of attention from every angle.”
“Are you serious?” she asks, her voice glowing with excitement. “This is my favorite one. It’s the one I’ve been dying to make, but I knew it would probably have to wait until I’d gotten a few more customers before I found the right person for it.”
“This will be my suit,” I nod, smiling, looking forward to seeing how she brings the image to life.
Katerina pulls the folder closer to us and gently traces her fingers over the design. “I’ll need to measure you. When do you think you’ll have time for that?” she asks, not looking at me.
“I’m available now.”
She bites her lower lip, making me wonder what’s going through her mind.
“Come right this way,” she gestures towards a small, round podium, leading me to stand on it. From her pocket, she draws a tape measure and a small notebook.
Katerina gently lifts my arms out, measuring from my wrist to the shoulder, then around my wrist, then along the underside of my arm, and around my bicep.
I’ve had my measurements taken a hundred times. It should be familiar to me, something simple and straightforward. But it’sherhands on me. It’s her fingers brushing slowly over my body.
I clear my throat as she moves around me, taking notes with her pen, holding it in her mouth, and pressing the tape measure against me again. Her hands brush smoothly around my waist, up my chest, over my shoulders. Everywhere she touches, my body burns with the need to feel it again. She leaves a yearning in her wake, and I’m struggling to hold back the thoughts rushing through me.
She moves in front of me, and I don’t even bother trying to hide it or make excuses. She kneels down to run the tape measure from my ankle up the inside of my leg and discovers the raging hard-on she’s given me.
“Oh,” she whispers, hesitating, her hand hovering midair, the tape measure dangling from her elegant fingers.
When she looks up at me, she’s biting her lip hard enough to turn it pink.
She stands up slowly, not backing away, so she’s right up against me.
“Would you like me to give you a moment?” she whispers.
But the look in her eye suggests she isn’t interested in moving away at all.
Boldly, I step off the platform and pull her into my arms. I run my hands down her back, slowly, savoring the arch of her back and the curve of her hips before I cup my hands over her ass.
Her breathing comes faster, sharper. Her fingers are digging into my side. She’s not stopping me.
“It seems you might also need a moment?” I chuckle, teasing her about how turned on she clearly is.
“No…um…I’m fine,” she answers quickly.
“Well, I think you should do something about the situation you’ve created here.” I glance down, indicating that she’s responsible for the rock-hard cock pushing against her.
“I didn’t do that. That has nothing to do with me,” she gasps.
“And I suppose it hasn’t affected you in any way?” I tease.
