Black Velvet

Zuki finally emerged, a wide smile on her face. He noticed the length of bandage hanging from the pocket of her pants. If she hadn't put it back on, then she must have found something that was to her liking. He could make out the mounds of her breasts beneath her sweater, but they weren't strapped tight against her body, and nor were they swinging loose. They looked for more appropriate for her frame now.

"Well?" Jules asked, "did you pick a winner?"

"This one," she said, lifting the hem of her turtleneck and flashing him. She had gone for the sports bra, as he had expected, its black color blending in with her fur. Not only did it provide support and prevent movement, compressing her breasts against her chest to reduce their apparent size in a way that was infinitely more comfortable than the bandages, but it had the added benefit of being made from breathable fabric that wouldn't trap her sweat or cause her any irritation. It was a Zuki-proof garment.

"Alright, alright, put that down. We'll pick out a few more of those and go pay for them."

The change in Zuki was plain to see, she wasn't slouching anymore, she was standing up straight in a way that he hadn't seen before. It had the side effect of making her look more confident, that bra must be doing wonders for her posture.

They picked up a few more of the sports bras and took them to the register, the employee ringing them up as they waited.

"You know," Jules began, looking Zuki up and down as he scratched his chin. "On second thought, I don't think the sweater is going to cut it. You can look better, sharper. We need to show the Security Council that you mean business, that they can take you seriously." He turned to the cashier, getting her attention as she ran a scanner over one of the shrink-wrapped sports bras. "Excuse me, do you guys sell suits? Business attire? Anything more formal?"

"No, I'm afraid that we don't carry anything like that," she replied. "You could try the tailor downspin, they might be able to help you out. I forget the name, but there's a big blue awning with gold lettering on the leftmost row, you can't miss it."

"Thanks, we'll check it out," Jules said as he brought up his phone and transferred their payment.

"What were you asking that human about?" Zuki asked as they stepped out onto the torus, Jules feeling the artificial breeze in his hair.

"We're going to try to get you a suit."

"What kind of suit?"

"You see what I'm wearing right now?" he said as he lifted his pinstripe tie for her to see. "This is called a two-piece suit, this is traditionally what businessmen and politicians wear. In human culture, it's associated with respectability and professionalism. Many formal functions require you to wear a suit or similar attire, and at any kind of high-level meeting, the only clothing you'll see that isn't some kind of suit is an Admiral's uniform."

"It will make me look respectable?"

"That's the idea, yeah," he replied as he led her downspin of the clothing store. The cashier hadn't said exactly where it was, but they shouldn't have too much trouble finding it. Hopefully, it was open at night, like most of the other establishments in the tourist quarter. "Not that there's anything wrong with your sweater, but if we can do better, we should. We need every advantage that we can get. If you show up wearing a sharp suit, then they might stop thinking of your territory as a backwater and start taking you seriously."

"And if we cannot buy a suit?"

"Then the turtleneck will do," he replied, "at least you won't be showing up to the meeting wearing only a poncho like the Krell councilman..."

It didn't take long for them to find the tailor, it was about halfway back down the tourist quarter in the direction of the residential quarter, the blue awning that the cashier had described standing out against the white hull material that made up the sculpted facade. The lettering on the awning read Morgan James & Co. Tailors. It was made to look like a shop that you might find on a London high street, or maybe something from another European city like Paris or Berlin, the way that it was squashed between the two adjacent storefronts actually helping to sell that illusion. There was a large window across the front through which Jules could see mannequins advertising various tailored suits in different colors and materials.

"Here we are," he announced. "There are lights on inside, so it looks like they're open."

They walked up to the door, quickly realizing that it was human-sized. Zuki could duck through, but it boded ill for their chances of getting a suit made. This establishment didn't cater to aliens, and who could really blame them? There wasn't exactly an abundance of Krell and Borealans shopping for dinner jackets.

A bell rang as he stepped through the door, Jules holding it open for Zuki as she crouched and turned sideways to slip inside. Fortunately, the ceiling of the store was not so low that she couldn't stand up straight, her furry ears just brushing it.

The interior was very upscale, it reminded him of a smoking lounge as much as a clothing store. A chandelier hung from the ceiling in the center, illuminating the space in a yellow glow, and there were more modern bulbs embedded in the ceiling at intervals for practicality. The floor beneath his feet was stained wood, and if it was fake, he couldn't tell. The walls were stacked with wooden shelves and racks that contained both rolls of raw materials and completed jackets and trousers. It appeared that they also sold designer handbags and ties, the selection hanging from hooks. There was a fitting area with silver metal stools where customers would sit to be measured, a few chairs spaced about the room sporting brown leather upholstery, and a counter that looked like it was made from something like dark oak or mahogany. Full-length mirrors reflected the room, making it appear larger than it really was. There were a couple of doors in the back that must lead to storerooms or perhaps workshops. The clothes would have to be made on-site, they were on a space station, after all.

A short, older man wearing a wool blazer decorated with plaid patterning emerged from his seat behind the counter, straightening a pair of round spectacles as he approached them. He eyed Zuki warily, she had about three feet over him, then turned his attention to Jules.

"What can I do for you, sir?" he asked. Jules couldn't place his accent, it wasn't quite Irish, perhaps he was from one of the colonies.

"I'm looking to have a suit tailored," he replied, and immediately the man set about plucking and prodding at his clothes. He straightened his glasses again as he leaned in close, inspecting the stitching where the sleeve met the shoulder.

"Yes, we should be able to fix this up for you in no time. The sleeves are too long, they should end at the wrist rather than at the hand, but we can shorten them at the shoulder and leave the cuffs intact. The pitch is a little off too, see how the material creases at the bicep?"

"Er...it's actually for my friend here," he said as he gestured to Zuki. The tailor looked up at her, his wrinkled brow furrowing.

"I'm afraid that we don't serve...aliens."

"Why is that?" Jules asked.

"Well," the tailor stammered, pausing as if he was trying to find a more diplomatic way to put it. "We simply don't get alien customers. I wouldn't know where to begin measuring a Krell for a suit, and I can't imagine what use it would have for one."

"But what about a Borealan?" Jules continued, "they're basically humanoid besides for the legs and the tail."

The tailor looked Zuki up and down, the Araxie standing patiently, her eyes darting between the two humans as she struggled to follow the conversation.

"Well, I've never...I suppose that...it is rather unorthodox."

"I can pay for the materials," Jules added, "just bill it to my account and do whatever you need to do. Think of it this way, you might be the first tailor to ever make a suit for an alien. Wouldn't that be something to write home about?"

The tailor hesitated for a moment, then nodded in concession, gesturing for the pair to follow him. He led them over to the front of the counter and had Zuki stand in the middle of the floor, where he began to walk around her in a circle as he muttered to himself and fiddled with his spectacles. He pulled a measuring tape from his pocket and stooped to gauge how long her legs were, letting the tape snap back into the metal housing when he was done.

"What exactly did you have in mind?" he asked as he struggled to get his tape measure all the way around her waist, abandoning the attempt when he realized that his arms weren't nearly long enough.

"She'll be wearing it to a meeting with some Coalition representatives, so something like a jacket and skirt combo would work well."

"Does she have a white dress shirt?"

"Er...no."

"We'll fix her up with one of those too then, although we'll have to have that custom made as well. This won't be cheap, I'll tell you that much right now. The cost in materials alone will make it double or triple what we'd usually charge."

"Don't worry about the cost," Jules insisted, "just make sure that she looks presentable for the meeting."

"Clarence, get out here!" the tailor shouted. There was the sound of a door opening, and then a younger man emerged from the back of the store. He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of khakis, he looked like an assistant or an apprentice perhaps. "Help me with this," he continued as the newcomer stared up at Zuki, his eyes wide. The tailor nudged him, getting his attention. He seemed genuinely scared of her, like he might bolt at any second. "Hold the other end of the tape measure and wrap it around her waist."

"Are we serving Borealans now?" Clarence asked, still not taking his eyes off the Araxie. Zuki was being very cooperative, standing still and holding her arms out as the humans worked around her. They had visited a tailor on her home planet, so this process might not be all that unusual to her.

"Never you mind," the tailor grumbled, "just help me with the measurements. When you're done, I'm going to need you to go into the storage room and fish out the big rolls of fabric for me. I'm thinking wool, and maybe something a little denser for the liner so that it doesn't snag on the fur. We'll need poplin for a dress shirt, too, but you may have to sew some of the smaller rolls together for that."

"Yes, Mister Morgan. I'll boot up the machine."

"Actually," the tailor continued as he took a step back to appraise the Araxie. "Before you do any of that, go fetch me the step ladder. Lord knows I'm not going to be able to reach the shoulders or the collar without it." His assistant hurried off, the tailor turning back to Jules. "An English cut should suit her frame, we won't need much padding to fill out the shoulders, and we can put a vent in the jacket so that it lets her tail poke through. A pencil skirt would go well with that. Did you have any thoughts on the color?"

"She looks good in black," Jules replied, shooting Zuki a grin.

"I make no promises, we've never tailored a suit this large before. But if it can be done, then Morgan James & Co. will find a way to do it."

***

"Ouch!" Zuki complained, spitting like an angry cat as the tailor nicked her with his pin. He wobbled on his step ladder, alarmed by her reaction, and Clarence retreated a good few feet away from her before he regained control of his faculties.

"Don't worry, she doesn't bite," Jules said in an attempt to reassure them. "Keep still, Zuki. He needs to pin the suit so they can shape it properly."

The process was remarkably far along already. The tailor had draped the fabric that was going to constitute the jacket across her shoulders and was now pinning it to get the fit right before the final stitching. Jules could already see the makings of the suit. The tailor began to wrap the fabric that was going to make up the skirt around her waist, his assistant helping from the other side, pausing as he came to her long tail.

"Does madame dress to the left or the right?" he asked through the pins that he was holding between his teeth, Zuki's ears swiveling to track him.

"I...don't understand," she replied. She turned to Jules, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Your...tail," he tailor continued, "do you generally let it hang to the left or the right?"

"I move it around a lot," she said. "Is that a problem?"

"No, it should be fine. I'll have my assistant make a hole for your tail below the waistband, like on your sweatpants. Clarence, hold this for me while I pin it..."

"Will it take long to finish?" Jules asked as he watched the assistant hurry to hold up the skirt, "I'm not sure how long this kind of thing usually takes."

"Well," the tailor began as he threaded a pin through the fabric near the base of Zuki's tail, "it depends on whether you want it done by hand or not. We pride ourselves on using traditional techniques for the best results, which takes about two weeks."

"Damn, that long?" Jules exclaimed. "When I had my suit made, they did it on the same day. I was hoping that you could have it ready by tomorrow, at least."

"Aye, we can have it done by tomorrow if you're in a hurry, but we'll have to use the machine."

"The machine?" Jules asked.

"We have an automatic sewing machine that will have it all stitched together and ready to go in about an hour. If you don't mind hanging around the tourist quarter for a little while longer, you can come pick it up when it's finished. That's probably how they did yours," he added as he gave Jules' suit another disapproving look over. "If you want the best quality, then it takes time. I never liked the damned automatics, but that's why I keep Clarence around."

"The machine can do it much faster and more precisely than a human can," Clarence interjected enthusiastically. "It works on a bed, kind of like a laser cutter or a 3D printer. The four arms are all tipped with a different attachment that-"

"Yes, yes," the tailor grumbled as he inserted another pin. "It doesn't have the intuition of a human, it can't judge the quality of a stitch, or make a necessary adjustment on the fly. It only does whatever you program into it. It's no substitute for an experienced artisan."

"We'll go with the machine," Jules said, giving Clarence a wink.

"If you insist. I suppose it makes less work for me," the tailor muttered as he put the finishing touches on the skirt.

"Will it have pockets?" Zuki asked, the tailor giving her a confused look.

"Pockets, madame? All jackets have pockets."

"She likes pockets," Jules explained. "She has this big leather vest covered in pouches, like a fisherman might wear. I think she's asking if you can put more pockets on the jacket so that she doesn't have to wear the vest over the top of it." He looked to Zuki for confirmation, and she nodded her head.

"I...suppose that we can put more pockets on the inner lining of the jacket so that they're concealed. Otherwise, they'll ruin the lines of the suit."

"How about it, Zuki?" Jules asked. "Isn't that like...double-Araxie? Hidden pockets?"

"I would like that very much," she replied with a smile.

"That should do it," the tailor said as he stepped down from the ladder to admire his handiwork. "Get this lot off to the machine, Clarence. Sir, madame, if you'd like to return in about one hour, it should be ready for you."

"Thanks so much," Jules replied, gesturing for Zuki to head towards the door. As he passed the tailor, he leaned in to whisper to him, hoping that Zuki was out of earshot. "Is my suit really that bad?"

He didn't reply, simply slipping a business card into Jules' jacket pocket.

***

Zuki used her flexible tongue to lap at her ice cream cone as she perched awkwardly on one of the many benches that were set up near the planters along the middle of the torus. Her head was brushing the leaves of a nearby tree, the human-sized seating meaning that her knees were up around her chest, but she was too engrossed in her icy treat to care.

"It's cold on my tongue," she laughed.

"Yeah, that's why it's called ice cream. How are you liking the salted caramel?"

"It's good," she replied over another mouthful.

"We've got about ten minutes until the suit should be ready," Jules added as he fished in his pocket for his phone and checked the time. "So if it's five in the morning now, then we have twenty-four hours and change until the council meeting. This nocturnal sleep schedule is really throwing me off. So we'll sleep through the day, and then we'll need to stay up until about nine in the morning when the meeting is scheduled. Don't forget to bring your sunglasses, because it will be bright out. We're going to have to go up into the central hub of the station, too, that should be fun."

"Do you think I'm ready?" she asked, stopping her licking as she stared into her ice cream.

"I think you're ready," he replied confidently, "we're as prepared as we can possibly be." He reached over and patted her thigh reassuringly, Zuki looking down at him with the beginnings of a smile. "Don't be nervous, you've got this. Go on, say it."

"I've...I've got this," she repeated with a nod.

"Ambassador Zuki," Jules continued, waving his hands to add dramatic flair. "You'll be showing up to wow them in your sharp suit."

She returned to her treat, seeming reassured, raking away the ice cream with her barbed tongue and licking the residue from the corners of her mouth.

"How's the sports bra treating you, by the way?" he asked. Immediately, he saw her break out into a toothy grin.

"My back isn't hurting," she said. It might have seemed like an innocuous comment, but he knew what that meant to her better than anyone else. To have spent her whole adult life living with discomfort, and now to suddenly be practically free of it was a magical thing. The back massages and the low gravity had certainly done their part too, but he could safely say that the bandages likely wouldn't be coming out again.

"You look good," he added. "If you were worried about your chest being too visible, don't be. If I didn't know better, I wouldn't have thought that you had anything out of the ordinary under there."

"You like them, so you might be biased," she replied with a sly smile. "Come on, we should return to the tailor and his son, I want to see my suit."

"I don't think that was his son," Jules laughed, "but yeah. Let's go get your suit."

***

"How's the fit?" the tailor asked, watching as Zuki twirled on the spot in her new suit. Jules was awestruck, it was perfect. It was as black as her fur, made from some kind of woolen fabric, clinging to her athletic figure to give her a wonderfully clean and crisp silhouette. It was single-breasted, the chest area opening up above two silver buttons to expose the collar of her white dress shirt, and so as not to be too confining around her bust. There were similar silver buttons on the cuffs, a sliver of her white shirt protruding beneath them just above the wrist. The jacket had a vent that almost resembled coattails, her tail protruding between them as it wagged happily. The skirt was appealingly tight to show off her figure, ending just above her knees, and there was a split down one of the thighs to give her more freedom of movement.

She fiddled with the buttons, the tailor grimacing as her claws neared his handiwork, but she was very careful to keep them clear as she opened up the jacket to admire the numerous pockets that lined the interior.

"Tailor," she replied breathlessly, "your skills are without equal."

"Finally, somebody who appreciates a proper fitting," he mumbled, nudging Clarence with his elbow. "If you'd like me to make any adjustments, please don't hesitate to ask, but everything looks to be in order from where I'm standing. I don't think a second fitting will be necessary."