K&T, LLC Ch. 04

"From that point on, everyone recognized Sheila as the star of the studio. It would not last. Sheila was still fourteen when she played Lincoln Center. Six months later she was in the depths of puberty. You had to be knowledgeable and attentive to see the difference, but Oskar Gruber and I both fit that description. For a while it was treated as a phase. Sheila would grow to her adult height and bust, then she could relearn her body. There were dance and theater companies waiting—with blue faces.

"All dancers grow breasts at some point, even if they are half filled A cups like mine. Month after month, Sheila's just kept growing. As a B cup they were manageable. As a C cup they were problematic, but endurable. Once they reached a D cup, things became grim. The only avenues still open smelled of sleaze. Sheila was a scholarship student and Grubber Gruber was the benefactor. He cut the string.

"I held Sheila long into the night. I have seen people loose close family or dear friends and endure less grief. Lincoln Center had shown Sheila heaven, but her own body had barred the way. I suppose I should not have blamed Gruber for the disaster, but I did. To a degree I still do. He should have done more to prepare her for the possibility that things would not work out. He had plenty of notice.

"After Sheila left the school, I became serious about auditions. I was good, and I knew it, but I had seen the best, so I knew my talent could not be my only ticket. From my first small part, I was camped at the directors elbow, looking for anything that would make me useful. Certainly I was called a brown noser, but that is not the reputation that stuck. My early reputation was as a dedicated trouper—with talent. I succeeded because Sheila Schwartz showed me what it would take."

Once I finished my story, I waited a moment, then said, "Now it's time to think about yourself. Become aware of where you are and how you feel. I know there is joint pain, but feel past that. Understand how an erect spine feels. Slowly release and lower your arms. Good. Now roll forward on hands and knees. You should be able to get up.

"That was quite good. You spent about twenty minutes in that position. Given your physical conditioning, I expected less. Did I tell you I have studied hypnosis? I have studied a bit of everything. Now it's time to get you a proper outfit, even if it has to be off the rack. Sheila's back."

Sheila and CC were both back. Maggie was holding out a package. My guess was a posture trainer. That was a good idea, but something with medical origins would be better. Jo could keep the leather brace in case some kink was ever called for.

I asked, "Lunch?" Everyone winced.

Sheila:

I was not sure which was the bigger source of anxiety—seeing Julian for a fitting, or leaving Francine and Siobhan alone. I had hoped they would hit it off, but I knew that they would have to try each other. Julian's lair was certainly the place for that. Francine would be in her element, but Siobhan would be outside of hers, so I expected Francine to fire both barrels. Siobhan was willing to try, but there was always the question of where she drew her lines and how far she was willing to move them.

My other question was more selfish. I knew that both Francine and Siobhan were working together on something, but I did not know what. It likely had something to do with the wedding, but that was just the issue of the moment. They were both strong willed, adult women. At best, I might make suggestions, such as Siobhan's makeover. Actually, I expected that would be one of the things Francine raised while I was with Julian. In any event, Christine would tell me everything.

Julian's workroom was the same millinery disaster I remembered. Julian himself looks like an unmade bed. His workspace is even worse. Bolts of fabric are stacked like books at a barn sale. There were ranks of unused sewing machines, some of which predated the World Wars. Most of the light came from various bare bulbs. Some of the unused bulbs rivaled the sewing machines for longevity. I shudder to consider the wiring.

In the center of this was a simple table, lighted with a pair of florescent desk lamps. It was covered with green silk taffeta, cream colored damask and a dozen, or more, spools of thread. Next to the table was Julian, holding one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. It had to be my wedding dress. That was wrong. My dress was not scheduled til Friday.

Julian moved, as if to embrace me, then shied. He held out the dress to Millie. As we embraced and Julian kissed both my cheeks, he sighed. "Cheri, you are beautiful as always, with the grace of a sculpture by Déga. This is a bittersweet time. Weddings are so joyous, but then you will wish a child. For such events, I am no use to you. But come. There is much to do. Remove that covering and let me see my proudest creation. Then we shall see if my humble efforts can approach it."

Julian calling his work humble was a many layered irony. First, Julian makes only a show of modesty. His pride in his craftmanship is solid as bedrock. Second, the bustier is an amazing piece, which took a month to make and cost me three weeks profits. Sean can throw such amounts around, but I have to scrape and save. Finally, it was my most prized possession. Now that Sean had the flogger, it was not very close.

Removing the outfit was simple. Expecting to do some shopping, I had worn a costume top. The skirt was naturally simple to remove. That left only the bustier above the waist. I turned around while Julian deftly undid the hooks. As he held the piece to the light, I could not help but compare this disrobing to the times Sean had done it. My skin burned a bit in memory of the lash. I needed to do something about that.

Julian completed his examination. He clucked at a couple of things, then tossed the bustier on a pile and told me it would be ready next week. I had expected this and brought a bra in my purse. The first time Julian had seized his old work, I had to wear a cotton blouse, with nothing under it, til I could buy a bra. That had been at a dollar store, where I had a choice of too large in the strap, or too small in the cup. I put up with too small for the rest of the afternoon.

While I had been reminiscing, Julian had raised my new piece. At first glance, it was a simple short corset, in ecru silk. There was extra space for my oversized tits, of course. The busk in front and the strings in the back looked completely normal. However, there appeared to be a row of extra busks around the bottom. That puzzle would have to wait, because Julian was holding it open.

I turned and raised my arms. Julian thrust the open corset around me. I knew, from experience, not to fasten the busks. I simply held it up while Julian fussed with the back. Millie, who is old enough to be my grandmother, eyed my exposed breasts. This too was familiar. Presently, Julian came around to close the front.

There is something sensual about having a man stand very close. Julian is about as monosexual as his staff—not very—but when he works, there is nothing but the work. His pushing and pulling of each tit, in succession, was purely business. That did not mean that I did not notice, or that Millie did not appreciate it. It was all part of Julian's performance. For Millie, at her advanced age, it might be the only thrill she could still have. I would have to do something for her.

Julian finished fussing and stuffing, and started closing the busks. As always, in a properly fitted corset, it was already snug. Rather than motion me to the iron pipes that serve as a tightening brace, Julian pulled out a strip, which looked like a wide belt, with busks along the top. It was an extender for the corset. Again, I held it in place while Julian fussed with the back side.

This time he pushed my panties down low enough to show the top of my trimmed bush. Millie was absently licking her lips. Damn that woman. I would fix her tail, or perish trying. Given her obvious proclivities, it should not be difficult. Julian finished in the back and came to the front. When he stepped between me and Millie, her disappointment was comically obvious. Wait til she saw what I had to show.

It was time to tighten the laces. I went to a large pipe, which ran floor to ceiling, and grasped it with both arms. The extended corset had three strings—two in the corset proper and one in the extension—so this would take some time. I spent it thinking of my times with Sean. The first day had been on my mind. Bound as they were, my breasts remembered the pressure of Sean's hands and the feel of the lash.

My mind quickly moved past that. Instead I focused on the feel of his fingers, on my back as he gave me a massage, or when he shampooed my hair. The thought of his dandruff shampoo made me smile. Then, I thought of the feel of his cock slamming into my cervix and warmth rushed through me. It was enough for even Julian to take notice.

He said, "I would have said that he was a lucky man, which he is. But, it appears that you are a lucky woman. Now cease your squirming." He slapped my ass hard enough to leave fingerprints, which caused another orgasm. Naturally, I blushed from embarrassment. When I snuck a peek at Millie, she was breathing so hard her mouth hung open. I said, "Flies, Millie." and winked. Then it was her turn to blush.

Once the tying was complete, moderately tight, Julian had me walk for him. Julian had often said that he could watch me walk all day. This was high praise, since Julian was an avid ballet enthusiast. This caused me to mention Francine. Julian nodded and said, "Ah, yes. The one that copied your walk." Say what?

I had no time to wonder, because Millie brought the dress forward. Close up, I could see it was not complete. The seams were basted and none of the trim was in place. Still, it was beautiful. The green silk was a shade darker than the pool table felt, which I had used as a reference, but of the same family. It was almost stiff enough to stand alone. Over the top was what appeared to be hand crocheted lace, made from ivory colored cotton. The light on dark effect recalled forest filtered sunlight on verdant undergrowth.

I held up my arms, so that Millie and Julian could get me into the dress. It did not quite fit like a glove, but very close. For a first fitting, it was outstanding work. I took a moment to adjust the hang, but there was little to do. So I composed myself, again, to wait on Julian.

Once again, Julian went around, checking the fit and lay of the fabric. Then he picked up a green ribbon and tied my hair back. As always, there was no mirror. However, Julian pulled out a Nikon digital camera and took pictures from every angle. Normally, that would have been the end of it. Rather than wait, I snapped my fingers and gestured to the camera. There was a brief contest of wills, until Julian reluctantly surrendered the camera.

To say I was stunned would belittle my reaction. I knew my reflection, but somehow it was different on the little screen. The woman could not be me. I knew I had a good build and correct posture, but the only word that seemed to apply was regal. I stared for a moment, then noticed my own mouth hanging open. This time a glance at Millie found tears in her eyes. Even Julian had nothing to say.

I emailed the set of pictures to myself. Then I returned the camera to Julian. I told him to shoot some more. This time I stood on my toes, to simulate taller heels. Julian merely nodded and shot more images. I also told him that I could stand another inch, meaning a tight lacing. Again, Julian nodded, this time with a small smile.

After that, everything went in reverse. After about five more minutes I was back in my street clothes, including the bra from my bag. As Millie escorted me back to the parlor, I pulled up a picture on my blackberry. It was the one I had sent Sean, so I could genuinely tell her that I did not own it. Millie's hands flew to her face, while her mouth opened in an O. I left her on the stairs like that.

Inside, I saw something unexpected. Siobhan was sitting on the floor in Second Position. The truly unexpected part was the she was doing it correctly. I would not have guessed Siobhan capable of it so soon.

In front of her was Francine, in full dramatic mode. She is quite good at this. Among her many talents, Francine is a voice actor. She had done countless radio and TV commercials and at least one regular Saturday cartoon. I had never asked why she did it, because Francine has a standard, one-size-fits-all answer. She would say her acting or dancing talents were marginal, so she needed other skills. Right.

Then I noticed that Siobhan was barely moving. This was normal for Christine, who has a Zen quality and trances easily. Listening to Francine I realized two things: Siobhan was in a light hypnotic trance and Francine was talking about her time with me. Francine winked at me, but never dropped a syllable.

My return was why everyone was waiting. Christine had just been measured, so she was standing by. Francine pulled Siobhan out of the trance and helped her unfold. Given her state of stiffness, I wondered how long Siobhan had been sitting like that, not that I objected. Siobhan needed all the posture training we could cram in. Still, it was a lot for a first session. That put it uncomfortably close to what had happened with Tess. This was not the time, but Francine and I would need to talk. Instead I showed everyone a few pictures.

Francine suggested lunch and I almost choked. I have never understood how someone could be half my size and eat three times as much? Instead, I asked Maggie and Millie about dress and shoe shops nearby. Francine asked about medical supplies. That one went over my head, but Maggie seemed to understand. We soon had three destinations within walking distance.

The closest, therefore the first, was a shoe shop. Francine had tried to get Siobhan to leave her favorite boots at the Parlor. I felt otherwise. They should be a display piece, set high on a wall in her room. In that neighborhood, Siobhan needed something to protect her feet, at least for three more blocks.

Once inside the shoe store, I took Siobhan and Christine to the fitting area. Francine attacked the rest of the store. For Siobhan, I decided that the look Christine was wearing would do. That meant sandals. Christine had been using four inch wedgies for three days. I chose a simple one inch heel for Siobhan. Baby steps. In addition, I picked out taller heels in black, blue, red and white.

When the attendant arrived, I asked him to get a bag. Siobhan's boots went into it. She started to protest, but I gave her my best evil eye and she subsided. Francine came up behind her and pulled on her shoulders. Looking a little sheepish, Siobhan straightened to almost straight. Francine pushed her away from the chair back and helped settle her in place. I had never noticed, but Francine had real skills as an instructor. One demerit for me. I should have noticed what her time with Christine had yielded.

I had the salesman, boy really, start with the heels. My idea was to get her up in them, but allow her to leave in the shorter sandals. Siobhan bit her lip and cooperated. What the hell had she and Francine been talking about? In any event, starting with the ankle strap pumps was a good idea. I helped Siobhan to her feet, tucked the T-shirt into the pants, squared her shoulders and walked her to the mirrors.

If you have ever seen The Princess Diaries, think of Anne Hathaway's expression on seeing her reflection the first time after the makeover. That was almost exactly like Siobhan seeing herself standing straight in heels. Before either of us could speak, Francine's "Told you" floated across the room.

We spent an hour trying on shoes and could have spent all day. Christine acquired three pair and Siobhan five. The boots stayed in the bag. Instead of the low sandals, Siobhan wore a pair of strappy Naturalizers, with a two and half inch heel. Christine, of all people, coached her in how to center over them. They walked side by side as we left the store. The shoes looked good on Siobhan, but we needed to do something about the clothes, quickly.

The next place was a medical supply chain. Francine told us to wait outside. She went to the counter and soon came back with a small box. She had been gesturing about her head, so I assumed it was something for Siobhan, but I said nothing. Neither, for once, did Francine. We moved on to the furthest place on our list. This turned out to be a fashion warehouse. I pulled out my phone and told Russell to get soup and sandwiches and bring the car close to the store.

Inside, Francine and I looked at each other and shook our heads—so much to look at and so little time. We needed to be back at Julian's before four PM. I pointed to myself and said, "Sundress, separates and extra tops." Francine nodded and said, "Formals and accessories." That was cheating, since Francine had a bag full of accessories from the shoe store, but she was also a master costumer. I let it go. I said, "But first,..." Francine chimed in, "Lingerie."

We were in luck. The store had Bali seconds. Among common brands for full figures, Bali is one of the best. Francine snatched six boxes, in different colors, and dragged Christine and Siobhan toward the changing room. I turned and headed for summer wear. Christine was already wearing a sundress, so I went a different direction. I started with a pair of roll up jeans, capri pants and a halter top. To this I added a clingy spaghetti strap top and a more sedate button down shirt. On a whim, I grabbed a red Hawaiian pattern and a yellow tank top to wear under it. Then I got the same pairing in Siobhan's size.

For Siobhan, I lucked out. Top brand names, like Pierre Cardan and Armani, will unload excess product under generic brand names. You get the quality that goes into an elite brand at a discount chain price. The tags did not say Burberry, but the tailoring did. I grabbed four suits and headed for the dressing rooms.

Francine was waiting outside. She turned to me and asked, "Well? What did you...Oh, my fucking God!" Francine and I had been shopping many times, back in the day. I had almost never scooped her on a bargain. She was gone before I could open my mouth. When I handed Christine the capri pants and button top, I heard Francine shriek "Michael Kors." Naturally, other shoppers wanted to see, so shortly I was alone. I said to Siobhan, "Step out. Francine has called everyone away."

Siobhan had put on the Burberry suit. I would have chosen a skirt suit, but that was not the current style. On Siobhan, I could see why. On her long legs, the slacks barely covered her calves. With ankle straps, that worked quite well. On another women, the jacket would be very long, but here it was perfect. I had not brought a top, so Siobhan was still wearing the black T-shirt she had come with. Oddly, that worked too. It looked sassy.

Francine walked up, carrying the Kors jacket she had screamed about and an Armani silk skirt. I guess I had not scooped her. The skirt was in my size. She handed both to me and said, "I'll find a top." When she left, she was towing Siobhan. What was with those two?

Francine had returned with an organdy and cream striped top. I did not recognize the name, but it looked like Elle Tahari. I had to admit, the colors worked well, especially for a thrown together ensemble. The best part was the Armani skirt. It fit like a glove.

When we left, Francine and I almost had a fight over who would pay. Sean had dropped a mid five figure amount in my bank account. I could get anything I wished. Besides, Christine was my responsibilities. Francine could float a cruise ship on her petty cash, but that does not mean I want her paying my light bill. Siobhan settled things by stealing the check. I can accept that from family. Sean would have done the same thing.