Now, I’m NOT a male model. I’m NOT a movie star. I’m just an ordinary guy who’d had the bad luck to be born too damned pretty! Honest, if I’d had any desire to be a model or such, it wouldn’t be so bad, but as it was, hell! I get a job in an office and I have to fend off advances from the secretaries all the way up to the female chief financial officer. I go to a bar and I get phone numbers by the handful and a fair number of free drinks. I go to the beach and...but I don’t go to the beach anymore, so many eyeball tracks over your nearly nude body can really freak you out. I’d lost my virginity at fourteen, been sexually satiated at seventeen, and now at twenty-three, I just wanted to be left alone!

For anyone else, this would be a dream come true. Me, I’m just wanted to be an ordinary guy. I’d thought about plastic surgery, something to make my face a little less perfect, my nose a little less regal, my jaw a little less dynamic. It’s a bitch being too good-looking if you don’t want to deal with the baggage that goes with it, and I didn’t!

Well, at least the tailor’s was a man’s clothing only store. I could count on few if any women inside. Though God knows if any were in there, I’d be trying on clothes for a female audience!

But the store was clear. Just a young man who scurried over and said, “May I help you, sir?” His hair was sandy, his body thin but well-formed, his smile fairly sizzled as he saw me. Even the tailors who have families and children have that look, I think it’s a sort of sublimation that they have, it lets them feast their eyes upon the male body on a regular basis without the inconvenience of hitting a gay bar. They never go any further than looking at their customers’ bodies...until I come in to buy a suit, that is.

“Yeah, I need to get some suits made.” I said. Looked over my shoulder. I could be seen from the mall. “Can we take this to the back of the store, maybe?”

The salesman followed my gaze, two young women were peering inside the window. “Certainly, sir, this way, if you please.”

There was an area at the back perfect for trying on suits. While not a room, it was a clear area, with a three-angle mirror and enough room to move about. A pedestal in the middle helped the tailor get the sizes right.

“If you’ll be so kind as to remove your shoes and trousers, sir.” the man said to me.

“I take a size 24 waist.” I told him as I kicked off my loafers. “And a 28 length.”

“Of course, sir, and a medium jacket.” his tone said that he had known my sizes the minute he saw me. “How about the French silk in dark blue?”

“That sounds fine.” I said, unfastening my jeans, pulling them down to my ankles (they were a snug fit) and stepped out of them. Looked up. The salesman was still there, and his eyes were not on my face.

“Uh, the French silk?” I said. “24 waist, 28 long?”

“Right, sir, right.” the salesman shook himself and took off. Looking back as he did so, bumped into a rack of clothes, caught himself, and went into the back room.

I shook my head. This is a yearly ordeal for me. If I’m going to get my new suits, I have to come in and be measured and run the gauntlet. I can avoid a lot of the casual contacts of the mall patrons easily enough. But in the store, it’s just me and the clerk.

He came back in a moment and said, “Here we go, sir.”

I put the jacket on first and then stepped into the slacks, fastened and zipped them up.

“How does the fit feel to you, sir?” the clerk said, coming toward me.

“It’s fine.” I said. “Same as last year.”

“Let me check the fit on you.”

“You don’t really have to.” I said.

“But sir, we pride ourselves on making every suit a personal experience.” the clerk said. “If you’ll permit me to check the adjustments.”

“Go ahead.” I sighed. Every year the same thing.

His hand came up and pressed my crotch from underneath. Not feeling me up...or not exactly. “Is that too tight on you, sir?”

“No.” I said.

“Do you dress right or left?”

“Left.” He was asking which leg of the trousers I aimed my cock at when wearing pants, every clerk every year asked me that. It was the usual prelude to....

“It’s important that we allow you sufficient room for your mode of dress...right here.” His hand was now on my cock. Feeling it out. “If you don’t have the right cut, it can be...very uncomfortable.”

“I feel comfortable.” I said. But his hand didn’t stop.

“Maybe we should have a closer look.” was his rather unoriginal ploy.

I sighed. “Sure. Why not?” I wasn’t getting out of this. Not and get my suits, and I needed my suits.

His hand went to the fly and undid and unzipped my pants with the practiced alacrity of the tailor. He opened the fly and reached up to pull the pants down. It was only accidental that my briefs also got caught and lowered as he lowered my pants. Yeah, right!

“Yes, I can see that we’ll have to do some adjusting here.” the clerk crooned as he pulled my dong on out of my briefs. “We wouldn’t want this to be a source of discomfort for you.”

“It wasn’t.” I said helplessly.

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