@noelaborate alerted me to this lovely pic and I had no choice but to write something for it. The finished product barely resembles the pic but I don’t think anyone will mind ;)
Please enjoy Concentrate.
(Objectification of an older woman and sexual suggestiveness ahead.)
Roxy hated tailoring. She’d much rather be out there catching bad guys, saving the world and playing the hero.
But Arthur insisted, as did Andrew.
“You have to know something about the art form if you’re going to maintain your cover.”
Tuesday was ladies’ day. Roxy had been kept busy all day measuring up everyone from a human rights lawyer who was due to present to the International Court of Justice, to a butch whose wife-to-be was giving major bridezilla vibes, and a teenager who refused to wear a frilly dress to her school formal (Roxy only wished she’d had the guts to stand up to her mother like that when she’d been that age).
There was one client left for the day and Roxy nearly dropped her pen when she saw the name Michelle Unwin written in the appointments diary in Andrew’s neat cursive.
This conjured up a vision of the ‘this is fine’ meme in which Roxy was the dog and the shop was on fire.
Maybe there was another Michelle Unwin who’d made an appointment with the Kingsman tailors?
The door to the shop opened and Roxy dove for cover behind the counter, startling Andrew who, thankfully, was good at playing along with an agent’s lead.
“Good afternoon, welcome to Kingsman and Sons, how may I help you?” Andrew asked warmly.
The customer answered in a voice that Roxy recognised as belonging to Eggsy’s mum, the only woman in the world who could manage to render a normally cool and sophisticated Roxy speechless. Brainless even.
Andrew and Michelle exchanged the usual pleasantries and then Andrew instructed Michelle to wait in the fitting room and informed her that the tailor would be with her shortly. He then crouched to join Roxy behind the counter.
“Miss Morton,” he said amusedly, though that did nothing to get her attention. “Agent Lancelot,” he said, more firmly this time. “You are a trained spy. Pretend this is a mission. Concentrate. Play the role of a tailor and you will be fine.”
Roxy took a deep breath and nodded to herself. It was silly really. She’d had crushes on her friends’ mums before. She could do this.
She just had to concentrate.
She stood up and smoothed out her suit with sweaty palms, then looked down and saw Andrew staring up at her pleadingly.
“I’m not as young as I used to be,” he said bashfully. Roxy held out her hand and helped the old man to his feet, promising not to breathe a word to anyone about his gammy knees if he promised not to say anything about her crisis in confidence.
In the fitting room, Michelle was still behind the partition.
“Come out when you’re ready,” Roxy said awkwardly.
“Roxy? Is that you?”
Roxy was charmed that Michelle recognised her voice and quickly forgot how to brain at the sight of Michelle in her underwear.
Concentrate.
This was normal for the fitting rooms, of course. Michelle would have been briefed when she made her appointment to bring the undergarments she planned to wear with her bespoke suit.
This was Roxy’s secret fantasy come to life.
Concentrate.
“Hello,” Roxy said hoarsely and stared at an imaginary spot on the wall. Anything to avoid making eye contact for she was sure to break out into a blush.
“Please turn around while I take your measurements,” Roxy instructed, because if they did this face to face Roxy might do something stupid like go up on her tiptoes to kiss Michelle.
Concentrate.
With Michelle facing away from her, Roxy took a deep breath to calm herself before taking the measuring tape off the small writing desk next to her.
“Lift your arms please,” she said and Michelle obeyed. Roxy, with the tape in her right hand, slipped both her arms around Michelle, ensuring they didn’t make contact with Michelle’s bared flesh, and took the end of the tape with her left hand, bringing it around to the back between Michelle’s shoulder blades. “Relax your arms and ensure the measuring tape covers the fullest part of your bust.”
Concentrate.
She’d done this many times today but not once had she thought about what it might be like to become intimately acquainted with said bust.
Roxy shook her head to clear her thoughts.
Concentrate.
She loosened the tape and wrote the measurements down on Michelle’s chart. Then she measured Michelle’s arms. That should have been simple enough except that Michelle’s biceps were surprisingly muscular. Was Michelle strong enough to pick Roxy up right then and there and -
Concentrate.
To measure Michelle’s waist and hips Roxy repeated the same motion as she had for the bust, only this time she entertained thoughts of allowing her arms to come together and hold Michelle in a tight embrace. Maybe she could rest her head on Michelle’s back.
A lovely thought, which caused Roxy to sigh wistfully.
Whoops.
Concentrate.
Next were the legs, which required Roxy to get down on one knee. While Roxy had no inclination towards marriage proposals the sight of the dimples on Michelle’s arse reminded her how much she enjoyed eating a woman out from behind. If Michelle could just bend over a bit. She could even leave the knickers on and Roxy could just move them to the side and -
Concentrate.
She measured the thighs. Yum, they would make such a lovely pillow for Roxy to rest her head.
Concentrate.
Then the inseam and oh how Roxy would love to follow the measuring tape with her tongue.
Concentrate.
Almost done. Roxy was both glad and bereft. If Michelle turned around right now what was stopping Roxy from looking up at Michelle, batting her eyelashes, smiling sweetly and asking very nicely with her best manners if she could please put her fingers in Roxy’s mouth and let her suck on them?
Bloody fuck.
Concentrate.
Finishing off with Michelle’s ankles, Roxy stood and wrote the last of the measurements down.
“Looks like we’re all done here,” Roxy said, not daring to look up from her writing.
“Okay,” Michelle replied. “Thank you, that was… very professional.”
Did Roxy detect a hint of disappointment, or was that wishful thinking on her part?
Michelle went back behind the partition to dress and Roxy returned to the main part of the shop where Andrew was waiting with a fresh pot of tea and some biscuits, as was customary for all their clients, which Roxy politely declined before escaping outside into the cold February air, ignoring Andrew’s pleas for her to wear a coat.
She was warm enough.
Companion piece pending!
I wrote this back in February and never published it. I’m not 100% happy with it but here goes.
Michelle’s pov.
The thought of going to a tailor’s on Savile Row for a bespoke suit seemed a bit naff to Michelle.
Then again, so did the fact that her son worked for one now and that he got a family discount.
“You should do something nice for yourself, Mum,” Eggsy had said. “Treat yourself. You deserve it.”
Michelle wasn’t so sure about that but she’d made herself an appointment anyway, just to humour the lad.
“Good afternoon, welcome to Kingsman and Sons, how may I help you?” the old bloke at the counter asked warmly.
Tuesday was ladies’ day at Kingsman, apparently, and Michelle had been assured over the phone that she’d be measured by a woman, for her comfort.
They exchanged the usual pleasantries and then the old man, Andrew his name was, instructed Michelle to wait in the fitting room and informed her that the tailor would be with her shortly.
In the fitting room there was a full-length mirror, a small writing desk and a partition.
Michelle went behind the partition and undressed down to her underwear. She’d been instructed to wear the undergarments she intended to wear under the bespoke finished product. So she’d taken herself to a fancy lingerie shop and bought herself something nice for the occasion. It had been years since she’d done anything like that. She normally wore the cheap multipacks from Tesco.
She placed her clothes on the hangers provided and began to wonder what was taking the tailor so long when the door to the fitting room opened. She heard footsteps and then the door closed.
“Come out when you’re ready,” the tailor said.
Oh shit!
“Roxy? Is that you?”
It made sense really. Roxy had been introduced to her as one of Eggsy’s colleagues, and Michelle had been in swoon city ever since.
Never in a million years would Michelle have entertained the idea of having a crush on one of her son’s friends, let alone a woman, and now here she was in her underwear to be measured by Roxy.
This was Michelle’s secret fantasy come to life.
How was she going to get through this?
I’ve managed to get through every other crisis in my life so far, she thought to herself. May as well get on with it. She squared her shoulders and strode out from behind the partition.
“Hello,” Roxy said, and her voice sounded off. A bit hoarse perhaps, Michelle hoped she wasn’t coming down with something.
Roxy seemed to be staring at something on the wall, avoiding making eye contact.
If she won’t make eye contact she could at least look at my boobs, Michelle lamented.
“Please turn around while I take your measurements,” Roxy instructed, which was probably for the best because if they’d done this face to face Michelle might do something stupid like lean down to kiss Roxy.
“Lift your arms please,” Roxy said and Michelle obeyed, thinking back to her rave days in the ‘90s. Roxy slipped both her arms around Michelle, not even making contact with Michelle’s bared flesh, and took the end of the tape with her left hand, bringing it around to the back between Michelle’s shoulder blades. “Relax your arms and ensure the measuring tape covers the fullest part of your bust.”
Michelle blushed and adjusted the tape as needed.
Roxy loosened the tape and Michelle heard the sound of a pencil on paper. Writing the measurements down, Michelle presumed.
Then Roxy measured Michelle’s arms.
Michelle had been putting in the hours at the gym. She hoped Roxy would notice how strong her arms were getting. Strong enough to pick Roxy up, maybe?
To measure Michelle’s waist and hips Roxy repeated the same motion as she had for the bust.
How nice would it be if Roxy let her arms meet to embrace her?
And speaking of hips, and gyms.. Michelle had been taking extra care to practice her hip thrusts with the bar. You know… just in case.
Next were the legs, which required Roxy to get down on one knee.
Jesus. The things Roxy could get up to while she was down there.
She measured the thighs, Then the inseam and, christ, what if Michelle turned around right now? Then what?
But she wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
They were almost done now.
Michelle didn’t want it to be over.
Finishing off with Michelle’s ankles, Roxy stood and wrote the last of the measurements down.
“Looks like we’re all done here,” Roxy said, not looking up from her writing.
“Okay,” Michelle replied. “Thank you, that was… very professional.”
She hoped she didn’t sound too disappointed.
It was professional though. This was Roxy’s job after all. Michelle couldn’t expect anything more.
She went back behind the partition to dress and heard Roxy leave the room.
When she went back out into the shop Roxy was nowhere to be seen. Another client perhaps? Andrew was there with a fresh pot of tea and some biscuits. Michelle stayed for a cup of tea. It seemed like the polite thing to do. Then they went through some colour swatches but her heart wasn’t in it.
(I’m sorry I don’t know how to end this lol)
