Fantasies

The Alteration

"Can we make the hem a little higher" the teenage girl standing above me asks as she types away on her phone.  Her mother stares obliviously at my co-worker Todd who looks like he spends more time at Cross-Fit than he does altering men's clothing. I mean, he's an attractive man for sure; but he's also an ass. His personality is about as flattering as the pants he wears over said ass.

Rolling my eyes to myself, I look up at the girl who's now glaring at me while she smacks the gum in her mouth. What I wouldn't give to wipe that glare off her face.... Plastering a tight smile on my face, I reply. "Sure we can bring the hem up a little. Although I'll warn you, any higher and your mother will be able to notice your lack of underwear" I smirk to myself as the girl looks down at me in horror before agreeing the hem is perfectly fine where it is.  Ahh to be young and slutty... NOT!!

After finishing up pining the skirt, I bring it to the back and get it ready to be sewn.  The girl and her mom were notified it should be ready by next week, pending the alterations needed for the bridal party coming in this afternoon.  We've seen them a few times before, but not everyone has been able to make their tux fitting.  The bridesmaids dresses were handed off to a different location and the brides dress is just waiting for a final fitting.

There are things I love and hate about my job.  Ever since I decided I wanted to pursue fashion, getting to make someone look good in their clothes brings me pure joy.  It's almost like ecstasy really.  The feeling of all the different fabrics as I pull and pin for the perfect fit is indescribable.

What I hate the most though is when I tailor and alter clothes for men.  Even the old, cranky guys who've been married to the same woman for decades find it amusing to flirt with the petite Latina with a pin cushion full of sharp objects by their crotch.  I can't tell you how many times I've "accidentally" stuck someone with a pin.  Men can be so crude and disgusting.  I'm about one more sarcastic comment about their "size" away from sewing someone's dick to their pants.

They aren't all bad though. Most of the times when I'm helping a man fit into their clothes they have the good sense to be respectful and show some grace when I'm down by their nether region. It can be a challenge for me, especially when the man is my age and attractive, but as my luck would have it; most men I help are in a committed relationship and about to get married or already are. Very rarely do I help a truly single man.

That's alright with me though. After my last boyfriend dumped me on our third year anniversary, I've been less inclined to date. He said some really nasty and disturbing things about me that night and even a year later, I can't help but wonder if some of them are true.

Yes. I come from a wealthier family, but I've had to work for all I've gotten and who I've become. My father instilled that into each of his children. My brothers and I have never purposely used our last name to get anything. Sometimes along the way things just happen and are out of your control and that's something my ex, Justin never understood.

In the three years we'd spent together, he'd not so subtlety push me to pay for things or use my name to get us into places usually neither of us could under normal circumstances. I realize now it was more a relationship of convenience for him and I was a damn fool to play along for so long..

"Camila" Todd shouting breaks me out of my trance. "The groomsmen for the Bradley party are here."

I sigh as Todd grabs the stack of papers from our desk and stalks to the back room. "I need you to help me carry these back to the showroom" he snaps. "They aren't going to carry themselves."

Rolling my eyes in displeasure and flying him the bird behind his back, my 25 year old body walks quickly behind Todd. He's such an ass and I really should quit this job, but it's at one of the most prestigious fashion houses in New York and a stepping stone in the right direction for my career.