The Right Man

I thought it was just a line, until it happened to me…

You ever heard that? “Oh, well you probably just haven’t met Mr. Right, yet.” Yeah, well usually the guy saying it ment he’s Mr. Right. Mister Always Right, seems like. More interested in telling me how to feel than listen to what I have to say.

So, I gave up trying to tell them I’m gay. That just started a whole nother conversation, I got so sick of having. Then I got a girlfriend, well kinda. And then, there was this other girl.

Becky Tomlin. That was her name, and she went out with a senior every week. It seemed like, but we weren’t following her, per se. We cut through the new alley, that’s what we called it, because the construction next door to the school. They put up fences, and pretty much blocked off the street for days.

It wasn’t a hard-hat area though, because they had up scaffolding, in case one of them dropped something. There was a roof overhead, and that day they were out digging a hole in the street. We heard them tearing it up all day with jackhammers, and then the big shovel thing.

I don’t know what you call it, it’s got a backhoe, but up front, and instead of a bulldozer there, it’s on tank treads and swivels around on top of it. I got to watch them pry up the pieces of street, then use it kinda like a crane with a chain hanging from the shovel, when I was supposed to be learning.

I don’t know, something in history class, it was boring, and more interesting to watch them dig up the street. The pipes appearing once they got all the dirt out, and all the men running around the hole in their yellow smocks, like ants.

My best friend Wren called him “The boy du jour.” Because she’s taking French, and I guess it’s good practice, on her pronunciation. He had his arm around her waist, and his hand on her hip, almost touching her butt, and her head on his shoulder. “She’s going to get some when he gets her home.”

“You think, she puts out on the first date?”

“Well, she better if she’s going to get some, before she leaves him for the next boy du jour.”

“Yeah, it’s like Deja vu, all over again.” I laughed.

“Hey!” One of the guys came over to the boards. “Why don’t you ditch that zero, and get with a hero?” It’s just plywood like a wall up on the building side, but the street, it only comes up half way, with a 2×4 across the top, and big X marks from the bracing crosscrossing along the inside.

He just took her, and rushed her off.

“Hey, hero.” Wren pulled her top up, and shook her bra at him.

His jaw dropped, but then he shook his head, and wandered off. Looking back, but but Wren held her top down, giggling.

“What did you do that for?”

“I bet I can get one of the construction workers.” She was still giggling.

“Or what?”

“I’ll eat you out, if I lose.”

“You’re gonna eat me out anyways.” Okay, sometimes friends with benefits, when she’s horny, like today. “When?”

“I don’t know, after school, as usual.” She sighed, disappointed.

“Well, if you win. Huh!” I leaned over, and lowered my voice. It wasn’t too loud, even that close to the new building, because they were wrapping up for the day, as per usual. “I’ll let you lick my ass.”

“Oh, so either way, you win?” She shook her head. Then she thought, since she’s been trying to get me to loosen up. So she says, “I’ll do it if I lose, but if I win, you have to talk to a boy.”

“What?” I shook my head.

“The next boy that comes up to talk to you, but you have to talk to him. I mean really talk to him, and give him a chance. Not just play with your hair, and stuff.”

“Well,” we got to the end of the scaffolding. “Sure, you’re on.” I shook her hand, thinking it was too late, since we’re already nearly at the subway station.

She looked over my shoulder, and smiled. Then she winked, but not at me, I looked back, and saw that guy.

“Uh, not him.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s creepy.”

“He’s not creepy, I think he’s kinda cute.”

“Well, the way he follows us, and stares at us.”

“You mean me, you’re just jealous.” I just shook my head, and bit my lip, a little mad, because she tricked me, and I forgot all about him, but now.

She’s right, I don’t want her to sleep with some guy, she picked up in the train station. I don’t want her sleeping with anyone else, because I’ve got feelings for her, and I’m gay.

She knows that, of course. I mean honestly, she teases me around it so much. Like daring me to talk to a boy, the next boy that walks up, and tries to talk to me. “Huh, okay, but. I don’t have to flirt.”

“With him? No, he’s mine.”

“No, the boy, huh!” I roll my eyes, “Let’s just say that, hypothetically, you get to hook up with him.”

She giggled, and backed up. Pulling my hands.

“This isn’t our train.”

“It’s his, come on. Lets get a seat in the back.”

“You said I have to talk to him, but you didn’t say anything about flirting.”

“What’s with you, and getting so weird, when you talk to boys, anyways?”

“I don’t know, what to say. They don’t care, they just want a pretty face, and if you just laugh at their jokes, that’s good enough for them.”

“Will you listen to yourself?” I thought that I had her distracted, so I don’t have to worry about, some guy getting his rough hands on her body, so I guess I tried to cheat, but nothing doing.

“What? I know it sounds sexist, but it’s true.”

“Well, maybe for high school boys, but a I bet a man might like a girl with brains.”

“Well, I have brains too!”

“Yeah, but for some reason, they just shut off, when a boy comes and talks to you. Besides, it might give them the idea that you’re a ditz, and then when he finds out you have a mind of your own, and you’re not shy, at all. Normally, your’re the most confident, and outgoing girl I know.”

“Thanks.” Maybe she doesn’t know, but she just suspects that something is up. I want to tell her, and I think I was about to when she checked her hair in the window.

“I’m gonna go talk to him, how do I look?”

“Stunning.” She gigged, and got up, but I don’t want to watch this. It’s breaking my heart, but I kinda feel like I have to. You know, to settle our bet, because if I don’t she can say anything happened, she wants to, but he just set his saws down on the floor, with his tool bags, and sat back.

Looked up, and Wren nodded. He shook his head, and scooted over, but when she turned around to sit down. She grinned, and winked at me.

“Ugh!” She put his arm around her shoulder, but he just held onto her shoulder. He didn’t even go for her bra, and I wish I could hear what she was saying. Leaning over to whisper in her ear, but he didn’t even look at her.

He looked at me, and then he winked?

“Uh?” I looked away, and covered up my eyes, but when I cracked my fingers to peek. She had his legs spread, and her knee up over his. Kissing his neck, but he never took his eyes off of me.

I didn’t think that he, could possibly have been following me, and staring at me, this whole time? Finally, he said something.

“Uh!” She sat up, and her leg cam off his knee. “What?”

He looked over, and pointed, but she shook her head, and looked pissed.

I grinned, and winked. I was getting eaten out tonight, and I was already thinking about how I would tell her to not even think about going for the butt. Yeah, it was my turn to top her, because I won the bet, and I could even tease her with my pucker, right in front of her face, where she couldn’t like it, like she tried to so many times.

“He wants to know if you’ve done any modeling.” She held herself up, and looked back, when he came up behind her.

“Uh!” I nervously pulled my hair out, to cover my face.

“I told him no.”

“Well, have you ever thought about it? You could be a fashion model, if you wanted to.”

“Well, no. Of course not, I don’t like that whole entire industry, and the pressure they put on women to live up to that impossible standard.”

“While, I know that they objectified.” He sat down, right next to me, but kept his knees together, and his hands to himself, “Wymyn. They’re changing, and it is also, an opportunity for vymyn, to take over, and run the industry, your way. I can not think of another industry, that is like this.”

I blinked. Shook my head. “Where you from?” Wren didn’t sit down, she just held on, standing up, and encouraging me. “Nico?”

“Riga, Latvia, that is in Eastern Europe.”

“Nico was just telling me how he’s in concrete?”

“Yes, that is what I am working on, at the building.”

“Wh, where did you hear about all that. Stuff about the fashion industry, and objectification?” I heard guys try to talk about feminist stuff before, then turn around, and call you an SJW behind your back, but this sounded. Like, a valid argument. Actually, that the historical objectification, and impossible standards of models were giving way to full figured wymyn.

He said Wymyn? Or was that just his accent?

“I read it, in the Cosmopolitan magazines.”

“He reads cosmo.”

“Wh, what do you read cosmo for?”

“The fashion. I come heer from Milan, Paris.”

“Oh, tu as été à paris?” Wren just couldn’t resist showing off her French.

“Yes, and Saint Pertersburg, first. I haven’t been to spring fashion week heer. That is what I have been saving for. I do not have my portfolio heer with me.”

“Oh, so you’re really a modeling agent, you just do concrete on the side, but if we come to your office, maybe we can see if you can get me on your casting couch?”

“No, it is not like that.” He put his hands up, “I was just thinking, if you were a model, you would know someone I can show my designs to.” Pushing the air like a mime in an invisible box, he shook his head, and looked up at Wren. “I am not a professional designer, I am a worker, it is just my dream to be a designer, it always has been my dream.”

“Uh!”

He turned back to me. “You are wrong. The industry, it is changed. It is no more a place for homosexual men to dictate the trends, and exploit young beautiful girls like yourself.”

“Wh?” I just hid in my hair, but. I’m gay, damnit! A big old lesbo, and gawky. He’s just saying that, when I know damned well I’m not some. Beautiful girl, that girls look up to, as a role model, and strive to be as beautiful as me some day, right?

“She doesn’t believe she’s that pretty.”

“Oh, no. Pretty is. My English is not so good.”

“No, you’re doing fine. What’s pretty?” Wren egged him on.

“It is like a flower, it only last so long, and if you cut it, it fades even earlier, but beauty. It is something within. Only so few are lucky enough for it to shine to the outside, where everyone can see it, but you.”

“I’m special?”

“You are beautiful enough on the inside. For me to see it. Your mother, does she dress you like this?”

“Oh, no.” Wren laughed, “That’s the school dress code.”

“It does not look like a uniform, the other students, they do not dress like this?’

“What’s wrong with my dress?” I picked at my pant legs.

“If I may, no offense, but it does not fit you. It is too loose, and hides your beauty, all but your face. It can not hide that. You do not wear makeup?”

“Huh, no. I dress like this, to hide my figure.”

“She’s ashamed of it.”

“No? I like my body just fine.” It’s just my stupid bony face I’m not so sure about. “I just don’t want boys looking at it. Because.” I took a deep breath.

“Oh my god. You’re gay?”

“Well duh! What did you think?”

“I thought you’re bisexual, too.”

“Girls, let me up. My stop is coming up, and I can tell you have much to talk about.”

“Oh no.” I grabbed his hand. “You’re not getting away that easily.”

“Lyd, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to see this portfolio of his, and you’re not going to get jealous of me, after you just had your hand in his lap.” I bent over, and picked up his tool bags. “Uh! What do you have in here, lead?” Nope, just looked like nails, except weird ones with 2 heads on 1 end.

“Let me take that.” He buckled it on his hips. His narrow hips, so his untucked shirt pulled tight around the sides, and his broad shoulders made it look like his torso was stuffed into it, like a wedge hammered into a hole.

“Here.” I handed Wren a saw, “This is the light one.” I carried the other one, the circular saw, while Wren’s had a pistol grip, like a gun, and a straight blade sticking out the front, instead of a barrel.

“I do not have an office, but my portfolio, it is up in my apartment.”

I hung back, and grabbed Wren’s shoulder. “You owe me.”

“What for?”

“You bet that you could get him, well. He’s mine, so I win.”

“Girls?” He stopped at the stairs out, underneath the sign for 163rd street. “It is up this way.”

“Cumming!” I hoped. I just switched hands, and caught the door, but if he wants to watch, that’s cool, but. I thought I was gay, not bisexual like Wren, but now. I’m not so sure.

Maybe I just hadn’t met the right man yet, I blame it on the high school boys. I guess, he’s not a boy, so technically, she said I had to talk to the first Boy that tried to talk to me next, but for some reason.

Ever since I saw him belt his tool bags on, and how that pulled his shirt tight over his muscular Eastern European body. His Baltic accent, and his interest in fashion. He just seemed so, real?

Like a real person, not just some cute boy, you never really get to meet, and thinking back to all the comments. From the construction workers, no the other construction workers. If he’d ever said any of those crude things, construction workers say, to high school girls walking past, I would have heard his accent, but he’s not like that.

There’s something different about him, that I like, okay? I don’t know what it is, presactly, there’s so many different things that are different about him, I can’t just pick one, but I like him. I liked him immediately, as soon as I realized that he wasn’t looking at Wren. He wasn’t following me, either, he just took the subway home from work, and about the same time as us, every day.

To think that, here was a man, who is so articulate about the fashion industry, with hopes, and dreams that sound so interesting, and he was right there the whole time, but the nasty crude rude construction workers shouted over him, so I never noticed.

“So, why do you need saws, and nails for concrete?’

“Well, you have to build a form, for them to pour the cement into. That is what I was doing for today.”

“God, I love your accent.” I found myself, not just hanging on every word, but on his shoulder. His back, just for a chance to feel his muscles. His firm, living muscle, I could tell he was alive, because he was warm, and they moved when he turned. His bicep bulged when he lifted his arm to point.

“This is my building.”

“Oh.” I looked around. “You live in Harlem?”

“Sugar hill.” He got his keys out, and unlocked the inner door. It had an inner door, and outer door.

“But, it says New Harlem Cleaners,” I pointed, “Across the street?”

;

Wren (ffMM…)

I just switched hands, and grabbed the door, before it closed. “Come on, we’re not here to sight see.” It was a walkup, of course, but I wasn’t letting him get away. “You’re really gay?”

“Well, I don’t know any more.” She giggled to herself. “I think I might be getting a little bi-curious.”

“Well, if we get a threesome out of this, then we both win.” I’m not giving up on her sweet ass. What? I’m a butt girl, and you haven’t seen it, as close as I have. You never got the chance, but I never really got a chance to really go to town on it, like I wanted to.

I’m an ass girl, and she’s got the nicest ass I’ve ever seen.

“What about his butt?” Of course, Lydia knows all about what I like.

“Huh?” I honestly didn’t get a chance to check it out. So, we stopped on the landing, while he stuck his key in the lock. “Oh yeah.” Bent over to pick up his tool bags, that he took off to get in his pocket. “Very not bad.”

“Come on,” she carried the saw in both hands, so I picked up mine by the grip under the saw blade, to follow her up the stairs. I’d follow her anywhere, just to bury my nose in that sweet ass, and my tongue in her gash. God, I was horny!

He came back down the hall with some papers. “Here,” he dropped them on the sewing machine. “You can look at these,” he turned back to the hallway, taking off his shirt. “There is a good view of Harlem from there.” He pointed, “But I need a shower.”

“MHHHHN!” Lyd ran over to the curtains, practically skipping, then jumped up and down, pulling the blinds up. “Did you see his back?”

I picked up the pages, torn out of a spiral, but not like a notebook. More like a sketch-pad, with the little fingers sticking out of the top.

“Check this out,” I flipped through, and picked on. “These are pretty good.” I held it up, so the window shined through.

“If you say so.” She shook her head. “They just look like clothes to me.”

“Well, he’s obviously up to date on the latest trends, so he wasn’t just saying that. I mean, if it is just a line, it’s a lot of trouble to draw clothes this nice.”

“Uh Huh, but you know I didn’t come up there to look at his portfolio. Or the view of Harlem.”

Across the street, there was a swingset on the roof, and some black kid pushing a little mixed race girl, on a swing. “You think he’s gay?” She went back to her insecurity blanket. Playing with her hair, and shaking her whole body back and forth, instead of her head.

“No, I.” Felt his rock hard bone-on, through his jeans. “Doubt it. He’s probably too young anyway.” I joked.

“How old do you think he is, 30? He can’t be 40 yet, he doesn’t even look close to 40.”

“I was thinking closer to 10.”

“Hm?’ She hook her head, and let go of her hair, turning back.

I pointed.

“Oh, no. Not him, Nico. You think he spells that with a C, or a K?”

“I don’t know, you can ask him when he gets out of the shower, but. Maybe if we get started, it might move things along.”

She nodded, and put her hand up on the window. “He’s sweaty,” she sniffed, “I can still smell it, and I hope he doesn’t wash it all off.” She leaned back. “Uh!” Rubbed her ass up against my tummy, when I felt up her hips, and around her top.

“You’re not wearing a bra today?”

“Huh!” She filled her ribs with air, which just pushed them out into my hands, and arched her back. “I didn’t put it back on from this morning, after PE. Huh!” She took my hand off, the right boob, and moved it down. Pulling out her waistband, and I can’t believe I didn’t notice before.

She thought she was gay all along, when I just thought that she was going through that phase, where boys make you nervous, and your brains just shut off when one talked to you.

“God, I’m hot and wet.” I felt down her stubble, to her gash, and sure enough. She wasn’t lying.

“He wasn’t lying about wanting to get into fashion.”

“Huh, yeah, but he said, that it’s not just for gay men, to dictate women’s fashion, so that at least implies that he’s not gay. Even though he’s into fashion, and he sews.”

“Well, if he’s going to design clothes, I guess you’d have to learn to sew, but he draws really well, too.”

“I don’t know, maybe I could model for him. Just for him, but maybe. If he made me something nice enough to wear, I could get up on the catwalk. Huh, in front of all those people, though. Looking at me, and judging me. I don’t know if I can do that, especially in heels.”

That’s another thing, she hates heels, and dresses. Skirts, and she wears pants, but not boxers. I’m starting to think back to all the clues, and little hints she dropped, pretty much since we met. Okay, she came right out and said she was gay for me, when I came out as bisexual.

I went through that phase, in middle school, so I had to be about 12, or 13, and I was so proud of myself. I wanted to tell everyone, until they just got annoyed by it, but I got it out of my system, and outgrew it.

“Snh, you even smell horny, and you should cut your hair. Not too short, like dyke short, but you’ve got so many split ends, and. I don’t like how you hide your face. Like you have something to be ashamed of.”

“My monobrow.”

“So, Cara Delevingne had a monobrow too, and now she’s got the best eyebrows in the business.”

“Uh!” She arched her back with a little grunt, pressing her ass even harder into my midriff.

“Huh! You just have more to work with, so you don’t have to draw them in with pencil. You don’t need makeup, and you never did, to make you look beautiful. You know he’s right, no matter how hard you try to hide it, you are so beautiful.”

“Uh, huh!” She humped my fingers, and rocked the 2 tips inside her, starting to tens up, and quiver. “HhuhH!” I had to let go, of her breast, and I think her knees hit the window sill. “HhuhHhuhn!” Her forehead hit the pane, and her wet vag squeezed my fingers, so I crossed them. The middle finger around the pointer, so they were just as long, and screwed them in, so they were up, and down, instead of side by side. “Huh!” She panted, “Huh! You ready to kiss my ass now?”

“Are you?”

“Huh, yeah. So ready, just as soon as you can get my pants down.” She giggled. “Well, he’s certainly not gay!” She shook her head, and turned around. So her shoulder got in the way, and I had to pull her hair out of my eyes.

The little black boy, must have sent his friend inside, because I couldn’t see her, but I could see his eyes. Peeking over the low wall around the top of the roof.

“He got quite a show all ready.”

She sat down, and the window made this, rubbing sound when she shook her hips, back and forth. With her ass pressed up against the cold window, and her forehead left a mark in the fog from her breath, before she turned around. “I wonder if he’s ever had a little stiffy before?”

“I don’t know, but we better.” I pulled her hands, and her pants fell down to her knees. So, she had to take little steps, following me. Then, the front door opened.

“Ohmygod.” She pulled her pants up right away, and I turned around, to stand in front of her.

“Who’re you?” Nico’s room mate. “What’re you doing in here?”

“Uh,” Lydia tapped my shoulder, and I looked back, to see her tucking in her shirt. “Nico let us in, for a threesome, but he was so sweaty from work, he went to take a shower first, and we couldn’t wait so we got started without him, but he didn’t say he had a room mate. Let alone such a cute one.”

Then, her hands slipped down my arms, around my chest, and cupped my bra, to squeeze them together.

“Karlo, is that you?”

“Yeah, Nico.” He grinned, “Where’d you pick up these 2 lovely ladies from?”

“Work.”

“Karlo,’ is it? You must me pretty sweaty, and greasy from working in the kitchen all day, huh?”

Some sort of latino, but honeslty, if a mountie had busted us in the park, right then I would have fucked him, and the horse he rode in on. “Why don’t we get this chef’s coat off, and wash all this fry grease off too. You a chef, downtown?”

“Jus a cook, at the Diner.” He grinned, “But I could use a little help, washing my back.”

“Yeah, and.” I copped a feel. “Your ass. I bet you’ve got a dirty stinking sweaty ass, too.”

She’s never really shown, so much interest in a man before, let alone a boy. No wonder, when she thought she was gay all along. It wasn’t about the bet any more, that was just a consolation for me, if I struck out, but now here’s this man, and he looks just about good enough to eat.

As soon as I wash some of this grease off his ass…

;

Carlo (Mf IR)

I do not know how he did it. He told me story, and even showed me video of him working in Prague. I would love to go to Prague. There, they have laws that allow you to walk right up to women. Touristas, Russian woman, English woman, American woman, and offer them money for sex. He was the pick-up man, for a film crew to make movies for the internet.

They have this van, a box van, only instead of cargo straps on the walls, it is all windows. 1 way windows, it only looks black, and shiny on the outside, but you can see out on the inside, from the bed.

I still do not know how he does it, but most of them, in Prague. It was only 1 girl, and many men. Some of them, when they were done with the star, they were no satisfy, and turned on the camera men. I would have carried the camera for him, just for the chance to clean up after him, with those touristas.

This one, she says her name is Ren. “What is that short for, Renalda?” I guess.

“No, just Wren. Like the bird?” She had undone her shirt, and pulled it to show me her shoulder. The little bird tattoo, pulling the strap off of it’s wings. “Why don’t you get those clothes of, and the water warm. You still want me to get your back?”

“You really like my ass?”

“I’m an ass girl, I love asses. Any asses, boy’s ass. Girl’s ass, white, black, or brown, I don’t care, just.” She pointed up, and twirled her finger. “Turn around.”

“You wouldn’t want to stick your finger in.”

“Why, you think you’d like it?”

“Oh yes. You cut your nails short.”

“My girlfriend, she doesn’t like it, as much as I do.”

“So, you are.”

“Girlfriends, bisexual. She always thought she was a lesbian, before. Why, you have a problem with that?”

“No,” I just bent over, and let her play with my culo, my huevos, and my verga, while I got the water just right. Niko had been just in here, he took the towel, but she was no lying about that. She spent extra time, on my culo, and keep coming back to it. Each hand, roaming back down to my genitales.

“Huh, get in, so I can get you clean. Clean enough to eat off of.”

“Okay,” I turned around, and the water splash off of my back. It wet her, but the shirt was undone, and come off. “Turn around.” She shook her culo, but I pulled the strap back, to bring together, and unhook it. Then, her skirt come down, slowly.

I heard this call a whale tail, like the whales in the gulf when they come. “Vera Cruz, that is.”

“I’ve been there, on vacation?” She turned around, and I just took in the sight of her melons. “Not since the kidnappings started.” Not quite honey dew, o cantalupo, but more than mango cut in half, and held up on her body. “You’re not circumcised?” It slipped out from her fingers, and she cupped them.

“The kidnappings,” Rapto, they call them, o roubo en Brasil. “They were del norte, the border towns, no Vera Cruz. None there in Vera Cruz.”

“Turn around.” She splashed it, over and over, deep in my crack. “Hand me the soap?”

“You’re serious.”

“Serous as a heart attack.” I heard her, down low. “Spread ’em.”

These American girls. “How old are you?” The dirty things they do, and like so much, it is no easy to believe.

“Seventeen, why? Is that a problem?”

“It could be, uh!”

“Smooch!” One side, then “Smocch,” the other.

“These days, you know. They look for ebery reason to revoke your bisa.” I refuse to work in Trump Tower o any of the property. Even after he leave with his family, we all do in protest. Immigrant wifes, and half immigrant children are good enough for him, but only because they are no Hispana. If no Ivanka is anchor baby, they call them. Eben Meliana parents, they come here, as immigrants, no problemo. They no threaten Nikolaus, with deport him, even when he talk to the school girl at the high school, right next to the…

“Visa?” She guess.

“Work visa.” I pronounce it correctly this time, after messing it up. She dropped the soap, and I remember. The story of what they do in jail, if you drop the soap. More handfuls of water, to wash the suds down my legs. Okay, so he can talk to them, back to our apartment, for sex with me, and him. 2 of them, no problemo.

“Besar, that means kissing, in Spanish right? My Spanish isn’t very good. I’m taking French you know?”

“French kiss?”

“Baiser de cul. Oh, awohl. Owlooloololo!” Cul, like Culo, o cut? France is no far from vieja España.

“Huh! Jes, kiss it. Your tongue knows French, bery well huh! Jess, oh jesss!”

I have never felt a girl kiss my culo. Very well, so well I forget about, all else. Everything else, there was just this. The water, like warm rain, and her tongue. Her wonderful tongue.

“Oh, jesss!”

;

Nikolāvs (It’s pronounced just like Nicholaus, the v, and u, are sometimes interchangeable in Slavic, and Baltic languages influenced by Latin via Russian.)

I came out with the tape. “It’s okay, you can keep your underwear on.”

“But I can take it off?” She kicked off her shoes, and pants, then took off her socks with her underpants.

“If you want,” I swallowed, “It’s just distracting to me, for getting your measurements.”

She looked down, “What?”

“I forget that American women, shave everything.” So you can see everything.

“Well, honestly I just stopped for winter.” She felt her mons veneris. “I’m sorry, I totally got the wrong idea, can you give me a second?”

“Of course, I turned away. She unzipped her rucksack, and pulled out her bra.

“Why do you carry your bra in your rucksack?” She put it on.

“Huh, because I thought I was hooking up with my girlfriend after school.” She pulled out shorts next. Long shorts, they almost covered her knees when she pulled them up.

“Oh,” I nodded, “I forget, you two are.”

“I don;t know what we are any more.” She snapped, “Just take your measurements already.”

“I need a model.” But as I get close, I can smell her, and she is definitely ready for sex. “I did not ask you up here for sex.” I never seem to have, the same problem with that, as other men complain about. I have just been so busy with work lately, that I have not made time, to go out, and meet women, but when I do, I do not have trouble talking to them.

I read in a magazine that women, that is American women, are attracted to confidence. So, I assume that must be it, the men who complain about having to talk to women, they are afraid that they will say no. I talk to women for a good conversation, because I am more comfortable with women than men. I always was.

Take Karlo, for example. He keeps asking me, what is jour secret, and I keep telling him, there is no secret. He lies to them, that is how he messes them up. He tells them things, he thinks that they want to hear, because they are women. That does not work, because different women do not want to hear the same things.

“You are 5’9″?”

“Last I checked,” she slouched. Again, she does not sit, or stand straight.

“You do not know your measurements?” I started with her arm. Neck to wrist, then under to wrist. “This can’t be right.”

“What?”

“Hold still,” I pulled the tape over her shoulder again. “You have broad shoulders. And a long neck.” I stepped back, and looked her over.

“I know.” She held her shoulder, and pulled her hair across her face again.

“That is a good look for you, very mysterious.” I wrote numbers down on the measuring table, and tucked the pencil behind my ear. 12.7cm, from neck to shoulder, almost 25cm shoulder to shoulder, so that must mean a neck about a decimeter across? “I may not have to take in the neckline, as much as I had thought.” I don’t want to get close enough, to smell her hair again, it’s difficult enough to focus as it is.

“Huh, I know, I’m not very busty either, but I can save you the trouble. 32A, size 2 long.” I assumed those were US sizes.

“That is one thing the Industry is changing. Dress sizes, they are snh?”

“I know, I’m sweaty too, from gym class. I skipped the shower, but girls sweat too.”

“I know, I. Why don’t you measure your hips for me?” I stepped back.

“37, and my belt size.” She slipped it up, “26.”

Inches, I had to multiply by 2.54 to convert to Cm. I do this all the time on the job site, since the American workers call all the cuts in Inches. “I know it’s weird, and almost impossible to find dresses that fit me. Huh, that’s not why I wear pants, and tops. Honestly.”

“Why for, then?”

“Huh, because I, thought I was gay, for years. I guess I told enough guys that, so they’d leave me alone that I even started to believe it myself, but then i met you, and I don’t know why, but I feel different about you. There’s something I can’t put my finger on, that’s didfferent about you, and even if I believed in love at first sight, I know that can’t be it, because honestly. No offence, but you kinda creeped me out.”

“I’m sorry. Sometimes, women feel that way about me. I think that it is possibly my hairline, and my eyebrows.”

“Huh!” She looked up, then back and forth. “What about them?”

“They called me wampīrsikspārnis in school.”

“Oh, like a vampire?”

“Yes, a bat that feeds on blood, like a vampire, yes.”

“You don’t look like a vampire, or a bat, or even like Vlad the Impaler. He was Balkan, right? Not Baltic, but isn’t Transylvania in the Balkans?”

“Romania, or Moldova? I remember him being Moldavian in the history class, but I do not know. It was all Yugoslavia, then Czechoslowakia, but now. I don’t know.”

“So, you’ve been there too?”

“What did Carlo say to you?”

“What? Nothing, he barely got the chance, before you came out. He just got home, why?”

“Oh nothing, never mind.”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Well, he is just, very interested in, some work that I did, in Prague. No matter,” I went back to his room, and went through the closet.

“Ah ah ah ah!”

“Well, whatever he said to her, sure worked!”

“Yes, why don’t you pick something, you would like to try on. I can not alter everything, so just one.”

“Uhm, this looks Military?”

“That is an old one, you like?” She held it up, then held it out. In front of the 3 way mirror.

“Well, I like baggy clothes I guess, but who did you fit this for?”

“It is an old one. The Military look was big last fall.”

“I know, but.” she turned around and held it up. “Did you make this dress for you?”

“No, of course not, and it would not fit me, even if it did.”

“Well, let me try it on,” she just started unbottoning it. “It’s practically a trench coat.”

“Well, it is based on a double breasted long coat. An officer’s coat, from Poland, I think?”

“Really.”

“I forget, I no longer have it, but yes. I think it was Polish.”

“What were you doing in Poland?”

“Oh, I wasn’t, it was the Army/Navy surplus, Mash on 8th?”

“I don’t know it, but.” She turned around, and slipped it on. Turning back, and forth, “Can I have this?”

“I don’t know,” I’ll have to ask Carlo, when he gets out of the bathroom, but it isn’t one of his favorites. “but I can make you one of your own.” It would be my pleasure.

“So, how did you get into fashion?”

“I was born in a family. My Father was a dressmaker, and my mother too. His family all the way back to the Prussians. Now, they mostly do for the weddings.”

“So, you grew up in a bridal shop?”

“A dressmaker’s yes. At home, they sold many dresses to the wedding shop, yes.”

“Huh, that’s. Honestly, the realest thing, I’ve probably ever heard in my whole entire life. Maybe it’s a European thing, but I guess I never really got to know an American boy, because they always lie, and pretend to be someone they’re not.”

“No, that is not just an American thing. Men do this in Europe, and Mejico as well.”

“So, when’s fashion week?”

“Oh, in September. I missed it, it was 2 weeks ago.”

“Well, I didn’t miss it, but if you need a model. Huh! I guess it will take at least 6 months to learn to walk in heels.”

;

^ I can go on…

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