Bra Zen

Millions of women are familiar with the Bobby Braxton brand of bras (BBBB), one of the brands under the corporate ownership of Simone International.

Where Simone's bras from all its lines cover the spectrum from teen training bras to 48DD harnesses, the Bobby Braxton line, Simone's most expensive, specializes in sexy, fancy, often elaborate brassieres ranging from 34A to 38C, and can cost anywhere from $80 to $800.

The Bobby Braxton name, as might be expected, was dreamed up by a marketing specialist, and "Bobby" was chosen for its unisexual appeal. The Bobby Braxton brand name, it's thought, appeals to women who are intrigued by gender blurring.

Women wearing these bras may not have given any thought to the person primarily responsible for the success of the Braxton line over the past 25 years - a guy named Jake Petrakis. Petrakis, now 54, was a 29-year-old wunderkind in 1994, who earned a following when he invented the popular Petite Amor bra at Formelle lingerie. Formelle didn't seem to appreciate him enough, so he approached Simone International with new ideas and a requirement that he begin a new line and have total autonomy. Simone jumped at the idea.

Their confidence in him paid off handsomely for both. Now Petrakis, with his two dogs, lives in a beautiful home in the mountains above LA, where nightly the million tiny lights of the megalopolis fill his expansive living-room windows. His is a happy, fairly simple life. It doesn't hurt that he's worth about 10 million.

Petrakis, unlike some women's-wear designers, is not gay and effeminate. Although not married, he likes to frequent brewpubs when he has the time, loves to hike, and nearly every day bicycles at least 15 miles on mountain roads. Every so often he has a brief relationship with a woman, but they never last more than a month.

If you visited his home, which very few do, you'd find around 20 manikins, most of which offer only a female upper torso. On some of these manikins are bras-in-progress, with some looking almost store-ready, and others in the beginning stages of design, with raw pieces of lace or fabric roughly pinned together.

Even to the unsophisticated eye, the nearly complete bras are eye-catching and sexy, with seams perfectly placed, lace in just the right spots, and straps strategically placed so as to both help support breasts but also to add to their sensual appeal.

On this particular day, Jake, after taking breakfast, removes his bathrobe in his bedroom, goes to his stash of just-for-him bras that he has lovingly constructed over the years, and puts one on over his rather small man-tits. He positions it, adjusts the straps just so, admires his handiwork in the mirror, and then puts on his street clothes - tan trousers and loose, boldly patterned shirt. And goes to work.

What he never tires of is the perfect breasts offered by his manikins. To be able to showcase and "package" these perfect breasts with artful bras, with just the right amount of elastic pull, and support, is Jake's lifeblood, it seems. In reality, of course, women's breasts come in all sorts of sizes, shapes, and pertness or droop. But a good bra will often take what nature has failed to provide and give a mature woman the breast profile that nearly helps her feel the equal of women with younger breasts. And beyond that, a designer bra will help her feel pretty underneath. Should she wish to show her partly undressed self to a man or woman, it will contribute to her attraction. That is what a Bobby Braxton bra does.

If Jake hates one thing in the world vehemently, it's plain, utilitarian bras, such as those so-called "T-shirt" bras - plain white or tan bras with semi-stiff-foam construction. To him, they're the female equivalent of ubiquitous white cotton men's briefs with flies. It's as though a woman wearing one thinks the smoothness of the bra's impression on her T-shirt (or whatever she's wearing) will dupe others into thinking she's not wearing a bra at all! No, Jake enjoys seeing evidence of beautiful bras through garments - seams, straps, and all. Or, he loves to see women wearing semi-transparent blouses that provide a tantalizing glimpse at the lingerie underneath. The trend among some women, though, to prominently reveal bra shoulder straps, Jake feels, is rather vulgar. There have to be limits! Hinting at is better than being hit with a sludge hammer, is what Jake likes to say.

When Jake has brought a bra to near completion on a manikin, meeting his exacting standards, he'll take it and the manikin to his design shop downtown, where one of his male or female (usually female) assistants will work on it further, eventually using actual women to finalize them. The assistants need to come up with modifications for the various women's sizes; decide on colors, final fabrics and elastics; and so on.

Jake comes in for final fittings, and after so many years, isn't at all inhibited about touching bra-model women to see how his bras fit and support. And the models are used to him. It's all business.

Jake himself makes the final decisions (with nearly unerring sales results) about which bras will go into production and which will bite the dust, and which ones will be featured in the annual Simone bras lingerie runway shows in LA and New York. Even at these shows, Jake is wearing a bra, but has made sure his suits erase any little bumps or strap lines underneath.

Jake, to be honest, is usually a little disappointed when he sees his bras on real women. Real women's breasts are never quite as perfect as those on manikins, real women's skins always have tiny imperfections, and real women's personalities are usually lacking - his models seem too superficial, or seem unable to appreciate what his bras do for them, and they often seem bored or in a hurry.

On this particular day, Jake is working with three female assistants, only one of which has boobs which begin to meet his standards, and the four of them are experimenting with the fitting of two different bras. One is a sheer demi bra, with nice embroidery throughout, and the other's a girly 34A-type bra with dainty little transparent cups (with frilly bows) through which one can see the woman's nipples. Small-breasted women don't even need bras, Jake knows, but he assumes they like the bra feel (just like he does) and they like to look pretty.

The model for the demi bra is late, and this angers Jake.

"Who is she?"

"Angelica; she's new; you liked her photos."

"Five more minutes and she's history."

"Yes, sir."

Six minutes later Angelica walks in, all smiles, and Jake instantly forgives her. She's a different kind of fitting model, with a jaunty, confident walk, but it's her insouciant look that's captivating. It just overflows with a sly sexiness. She's a bit on the short side, but both Jake and his assistants are instantly attracted. She's obviously used to the attention she generates.

"Hi," Angelica sings. Literally sings. "Hiiiiiii."

Jake instantly sees she's braless. That will change. Soon, Jake Petrakis' bra will be molding her princess-like skin and young breasts. He will give her the Bobby Braxton look. He will adorn and package her.

Angelica greatly exceeds the initial impression she generated. She moves from being merely a fitting model to being one of Jake's favorite runway and ad models, despite her being shorter than the average runway habitué. Men and women reviewers alike can't pay her enough compliments, and the name Angelica becomes synonymous with Bobby Braxton.

Jakes takes a great personal liking to her, and convinces her to sign an exclusive contract with him, and pays her very well. When he has one of his infrequent company "insider" parties at his place, to celebrate a particularly successful product launch or fiscal year, Angelica is naturally invited. To one, she brings a boyfriend; and to one, a girlfriend. She is, Jake thinks, a genuine "Bobby" kind of girl.

Angelica Fuentes is a 36C, and Jake marvels at the perfectness of her breasts - almost too perfect, but he early on made sure they weren't implants (he would've detected them when touching her for bra fittings). Due to her Hispanic background, her skin tone is a lovely light brown. She doesn't overdo her makeup. What a find.

Angelica's contract runs three years. As the period draws to a close, Jake's dismayed when he hears she's considering leaving. One rumor has it that she just wants to get married and have babies - and other scuttlebutt says she wants to try acting. So, for the very first time, Jake invites her over to his home alone. He's both very confident that he can charm her into staying on, and on the other hand, illogically frightened by having such an exciting woman visit.

It helps him settle down to put on one of his man bras, which fits snuggly. With satisfaction, he sees the impression his nipples make in the thin fabric.

Angelica drives over in a white BMW convertible, and Jake watches her climb his stairs. They exchange west-coast-style hugs.

"Dear, dear, welcome back. What a beautiful day, yes? So nice to see you."

"Well, Jake, nice to see you. I like your shirt."

Jake's wearing long, white Bermuda shorts and a dark-blue, busy, Hawaiian-like shirt along with sandals. He's pretty sure she doesn't see any evidence of his bra.

Angelica's wearing a fetching red-leather skirt, almost to the point of being a miniskirt, with seamed black nylons on underneath. On top is a white-lace cami. What helped shield her well-known face from other drivers on her way over was a large droopy hat and oversized sunglasses, which she removes.

Jake's expert eye deduces that once again, she's braless. What the hell, she doesn't need one!

Once inside, Angelica notices that Jake's manikins are out, in various stages of being brassiered.

"Oh, these weren't here before."

"Would've interfered with the party atmosphere."

"Which is your favorite bra?"

"Well, yeah, I'm pretty much finished with this one - what I'm calling my Secret Island bra." Jake shows her a manikin fitted with a low-cut white bra without underwire, with transparent, filmy cups, a tiny bow in the center, with a narrow back strap and double-spaghetti shoulder straps. Jake's trademark, embroidered lace, tastefully decorates the cups and side straps.

"Secret Island?" She laughs. "You mean, secret boobs?"

Jake laughs too. "I suppose. That's funny." This girl is so refreshingly natural and unique, he thinks.

"Can I try it on? It looks like it might be a fit."

"Well, it's not held together very well at the moment, you know. It could come apart."

"I don't mind. It looks so pretty and sexy; I just want to see it on me."

And so, even before Jake has a chance to say more, Angelica's top is off, displaying her perfect titties, with perfect skin tone, and Jake is helping her slip into his Secret Island. It fits her nearly perfectly, and displays her assets nicely.

My God, Jake thinks. This is what a bra was meant to look like, on a real woman. Sexy, fashionable, tasteful, curvaceous, sexy, tight, sexy, provocative, sexy.

Angelica hands him her phone. "Please take a picture. I want my girlfriend to see."

"Jesus," says Jake. "Can't do that. I never allow photos of a product in development before it hits the market. Sorry about that."

"Oh, I understand, Jake. Don't worry. I know how hard you work on these. How perfect you make them. It's been so wonderful being able to model your creations. Really. ... You probably have no idea how sexy these make a girl feel." She carefully slips out of his creation and gets into her cami again.

"Why thank you," coos Jake. "I do have my own tastes, you know, and it's so refreshing when women like what I like."

"As you know, Jake, I prefer to go braless, but there are occasions when I absolutely like wearing your kind of bras - like, under evening or party dresses, in the bedroom ... if you know what I mean."

"But of course."

Jake takes Angelica out on the front porch, in the late afternoon sun, with a light breeze wafting over them, where they enjoy glasses of Gewurztraminer.

"Angelica, dear, I wanted to have a one-on-one with you today, frankly, because I heard that you were thinking of leaving after your contract expired. By the way, it's been a wonderful three years. You've become the face - and figure! - of Bobby Braxton, and I appreciate all you've done for the brand. It has been so wonderful working with you."

Jake feels Angelica move alongside him, touching him, and feels just a hint of a breast against his side. Her long black hair blows easily in the air. He's mildly shocked. What would she ever see in me? Is it a power thing, my running Bobby Braxton? Or maybe I still do have some fatherly good looks that she's attracted to?

"Well, Jake, it's amazing how rumors get around, isn't it? But I'll be honest. Look, three years is a real long time, to me anyway. You wouldn't want me around forever, as I start to get wrinkles, and my bobbies start sagging." She laughs. "I look at it this way - it was wonderful, probably the best time of my entire life - and I should exit while I'm at my best, you know."

"You are so refreshingly honest, Angelica, and that's what I love about you. But I encourage you to stay on, and if money's a thing, I can pay you more. But I don't want to stand in the way of your plans, either. Just please consider earning even more money that will provide for you in the coming decades of your life, if you decide to have a family or whatever. I'm very impressed with you. You're one of a kind, and I probably won't meet another model like you again."

"That's so nice to hear, Jake. Really. You've been very nice to me and my family."

With that, and with both of them feeling the warm effects of the wine, their lips seek each other, and they passionately kiss. Jake hasn't known this kind of excitement and purity for a long time. Oh, to be her age again!

Angelica pulls away a little, holding his hand tenderly.

"Jake, I meant to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"When we hugged when I first arrived, my hand was on your back, and I'd swear I felt bra straps! Now kill me if I just imagined that, but ... "

Jake is mortified, briefly. But he is so adept at managing things.

"You have found," he laughs, "my Secret Island, I guess! Would it surprise you that a man whose life work is designing bras, likes them enough to wear them himself?"

Angelica looks seriously at him for a moment before breaking into a big smile. "Well, it's kind of amusing if you ask me. I mean, I don't wear them unless I have to, while you don't need one, but you like to wear them anyway. That's so funny! I mean, don't think I'm making fun of you, and I will never tell anyone ... but do you see the irony of it all? ... And this is not like foreign territory for me. I have a cousin, David, who's a crossdresser, and my god, when he's dressed, he's absolutely beautiful and gorgeous and sexy. I'll show you a photo sometime."

"Please do. You should realize though, that I've never been a crossdresser. I've never wanted to totally look like a woman, and go out in public that way."

"Ever thought about doing it, ever wanted to?"

"Occurred to me, but never followed up on it."

Angelica: "Can I see your bra?"

"Oh, no, no, I don't think so."

"Please; oh come on Jake, show me. I'm insanely curious. I've never seen a man bra."

In his bedroom, Jake allows Angelica to take off his Hawaiian shirt, exposing his slender bra. With an underwire, of a light tan color, and gently elastic in all areas except the shoulder straps, it cups his demure man breasts. Angelica studies the design and runs her fingers under the side panels.

"Oh, Jake, this is so cool! As usual, you always know how to make a bra look so sexy, even when on a man!"

Jake is a little uncomfortable, but the memory of her body touching his, and her kiss, lingers.

Angelica coquettishly lightly touches his nipples through the bra. The sensation sends an exciting jolt up and down his spine, and he slightly stiffens.

"And, I must ask, do you also wear panties?"

Jake lowers his Bermuda shorts, showing some rather sexy male bikini-style underwear. "Sorry about that ... "

"Maybe you'd like to wear mine?" She pulls off her short skirt, and quickly steps out of some white-polka-dot on red brief panties, handing them to Jake. He quickly notices that her seamed blackish nylons are thigh-highs.

"Cute, Angelica, but not my thing."

With that, she drops the panties to the floor and runs her finger around his chest and belly hair. His steam has risen another notch.

Her cleft has just a teasing smidgen of hair.

Just as he's saying, "Would you like to ...?" she's saying, "Let's fuck."

With that, he easily lifts her off the floor and deposits her on his bed. She slips out of her cami, leaving only the nylons on.

"Leave your bra on, please, Jake; I like seeing it on you."

What is unsaid is that he likes displaying it to her.

For a time, they roll around the bed, kissing, with him putting his leg between hers. He is quite hard and readies himself to insert himself into her valley of earthly delights.

Just as he makes contact with her down there, a cell phone starts playing loud mariachi music.

"Oh, my god, Jake, I'm so sorry. Just let it ring."

But his moment of passion has passed. Jake reaches out and passes her the slim phone.

"Hello ... What? ... No, really? ... I'm so sorry, mom. ... I'm having a meeting with my boss. ... I'll be there as soon as I can."

With effusive apologies, Angelica leaves. Her 84-year-old grandmother had to go to the hospital with a severe arthritis attack, and the Fuentes family always comes together at times like this.

"Oh Jake, I'm not one to throw cold water on a guy. I'm sorry, I really am. I hope you understand."

"Of course, dear. Rain check?"

"Oh yes."

Actually, Angelica returns late that night, unannounced, and both are too tired to do anything, so they variously cuddle, sprawl out on his big bed, and sleep - her in a sheer nightie she brought along.

In the morning, she wakes up first, and goes to make coffee on his espresso machine.

Its aroma wakes him up, and when he walks in and spies her svelte hips and pert breasts pushing against the nightie, he loses himself, grabs her and deposits her on the bed one more time. She pretends to resist, then assumes the doggie position and he fucks her royally, with an abandon he hasn't enjoyed for many years.

This must be what heaven is like, he thinks.

And so, Angelica comes to visit him once in a while, not wanting a "relationship" and also detecting that he likes his solitude. She signs a new contract.

What he doesn't foresee is her getting him to enjoy wearing various pieces of lingerie, to include panties, nylons, women's bras, earrings, bracelets and necklaces. She begins to treat him more and more as her imaginary girlfriend, Joanna.

Imagine, Jake Petrakis actually wearing Bobby Braxton bras!

When he becomes used to this, she graduates to dresses and makeup, and finally, a wig. All of this, he finds, is tremendously erotic and contributes even more to their hot time in bed.

After a couple months of this deepening intimacy, Angelica one day tells Jake she wants to design a Bobby Braxton bra.

"I've made sketches. I've really thought this out. It's a lot like your style; you'll see."

"Oh, look, Angelica, now you're leaning on me too much. Bobby Braxton is me, Jake, period."

"Jake, honey, just take a look. That's all. If you think it has any promise at all, I'll just approach another company with the idea."

"OK then, just don't go to Formelle with it. I have bad blood with them."

"I know."

So, next time they're together (Jake counted the days), Jake is dressed as Joanna, and Angelica sits tightly next to him, her breast alongside his, with just a touch of beguiling perfume. They look at her sketches.