Fashion House 2 TUESADY
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Fashion House - 1 MONDAY free porn video
The House Couture
Looking back, I could never have understood how important this week in
February was going to be to me or to my life. I mean, I started the week
as a young man, intent on cracking into his industry and I ended the week
as a bride!
MONDAY
I had been looking forward to February for a long time. Through several
pulled strings and a little bit of sorcery, if I do say so myself, I had
scored an invitation to one of the fashion world's most exclusive
gatherings, the week long Style New York show, or SNY as it was known in
the industry. There were only 500 invites available and as a young
designer, three years out of school, I had no business being there. I
probably took someone's spot, but I couldn't let that weigh on me. I was
in and I needed to make the most of it.
It was still pretty cold in the city in February, which is fine by me as
I like wearing clothes. To me, more is more and I liked exploring how
fabrics could cover a body. Even when I was a little boy I loved how
different fabrics felt against my skin. That's probably why I became a
designer in the first place. It hadn't gone over too well with my
Midwest parents, not because they were against the job so much as they
worried I'd always be poor.
Well, if I'm honest they couldn't fully understand why a heterosexual
male would go into the fashion design business, but I pointed out several
famous designers who were married to women and, eventually, they came
around. Mom was actually thrilled at the idea that I could design her
clothes. And so, I had applied to RISD in Providence and started on my
path. Worst case, I'd talk my way into Brown University next door and
figure out a plan B.
After a late lunch and some last minute prep, I made my way across the
Brooklyn Bridge in lower Manhattan to the Brooklyn side and then into the
Dumbo neighborhood to a new, swanky hotel where the event was being held.
I had spent the last two and a half years exploring the city and had
always wanted to go into this massive new property; I had heard only good
things. It had better be good, for what it was costing me to stay. $650
for their smallest room per night, for four nights, put a serious dent in
my savings. I could have stayed in my apartment on the upper west side,
but I didn't want to miss the mingling and chance encounters. I told
myself it would be worth it to get to meet the world's elite designers
and couture houses.
And it would turn out that I was right, but just maybe not in how I
expected.
The Style show ran from Monday mid day through Friday afternoon the week
before the official NY Fashion Week (NYFW). It had been started some 15
years prior as a prelude to NY Fashion week where the world's top houses
and designers, an exclusive group, could get together.
It was small at first, meant to be intimate, but slowly over the years it
had gotten bigger and bigger. It was finally capped at 500, including
executives from the world's most famous retailers, as well as investors
in the fashion industry. In short, it was a who's who of my industry and
to make connections here was to solidify my spot in the fashion world.
Many of my fellow designers brought in collections, either ahead of their
shows in NYFW or, for the more prolific designers, in addition to. By
late afternoon when I arrived, the lobby was a circus of activity,
clothes racks and garment bags were scattered all over as teams of people
checked in and transported their collections up to the suites where they
would be displayed. As I wasn't going to have any space except my small
room, I decided to bring my look books and digital files instead. I
worked at a fashion design firm in the city, but my goal here was to make
the connections that would one day get me my own line.
So, for the last several months I had been working on my portfolio and
making appointments with key investors and buyers. My first two days had
a smattering of meetings around the hotel and I hoped to fill more of my
time as I met people in the hotel or at the receptions. Thursday and
Friday were reserved for the handful of runway shows the big names were
putting on. This is where a few select retailers would get a slight head
start on the rest of the fashion world, guaranteeing orders would be
filled as the first to buy into the collections.
After a long wait to check in I wandered over to the adjacent building
where the bulk of the event would take place and got my passes and name
badge at the registration desk. Shortly after, I was in my room
unpacking and looking over the schedule of events. I had a couple hours
before the official kick off reception, plenty of time to change and
freshen up for the first big night.
--------
I had gone back and forth as to whether to wear a design of my own
straight away or be more conservative wearing something from another
designer. In the end, I decided to wear one of my own, a suit and vest
but without the suit jacket. It was a risk wearing the jacket because I
didn't quite have the body to fill it out the way I should.
I'm 5'8" and 145 pounds. I have long legs and a relatively shorter
torso, which is in part why I didn't wear the jacket. It just felt too
big on me and made me feel like I was wearing dad's clothes. The deeper
and darker blue patterned fabric of the pants and vest popped nicely in
contrast to my light blue solid shirt with white French cuffs and collar.
It would look much better if I was built like the Rock, but I had
tailored it as much as possible to fit me and I was comfortable in my
look.
I put my credentials in my pocket and headed out of the room to the
reception, mentally rehearsing my story should anyone ask about my
outfit. I was feeling pretty good by the time I got to the elevator for
the short trip down to the lobby.
With a short "bing" sound, the doors opened into a large car. Standing
there leaning on one side of the car, alone, was another man, perhaps ten
years older and impeccably dressed in a crisp black suit with a black
cashmere sweater underneath. At around six feet tall, he had an
athletic, trim build covered by a suit tailored to perfection. His belt
and shoes were expensive Italian and the Swiss watch was probably the
finest crafted item I would ever be in the presence of again. He had
dark thick hair styled similar to mine, but unlike me, he had a rugged
chiseled jawline and shadow of a beard that even I had to say was sexy.
As I stepped into the elevator I hazard a look up into his face. He had
piercing blue green eyes that seemed to bore through me. I stammered a
bit but managed to spit out a "hey" as I stepped on. His eyes didn't
leave me, as he seemed to be studying me.
As I took my spot opposite him in the car facing forward. The doors took
a while to close allowing air to circulate through the elevator car. His
cologne was ushered over to me, and I took in its sort of a wonderfully
fresh but musky scent. I glanced back at him, thinking I might
compliment him on his fragrance. His eyes were still locked on me
studying me and my heart seemed to double its' rhythm under his gaze. For
some reason I could feel blood rushing to my checks.
Wait, was I attracted to him? What was this reaction?
No, that wasn't possible, it must be something else. He was familiar to
me. I've seen him before haven't I?
"Crap," I thought. I was never very good a identifying celebrities, but
I knew I should know him.
I hazard another glance at him then returned my gaze to the front doors
as they finally slid shot.
Yes, I did recognize him. But from where? In the reflection of the door
I could see he was still studying me.
"Is that your own design?" his voice rang out with just a hint of a
British accent.
"ah...yeah," I said turning toward him. "It's, ah...that is... I
mean..." I stammered, trying and failing to remember the clever story I
had prepared about this design and fabric.
I took a breath.
"Yes, its my design," I managed.
There was a pause. Then I wondered.
"How could you tell?" I asked him, now curious why he had asked.
He took a step toward me and examined the vest more closely.
"Well, the stitching isn't good enough for it to be any of the houses
here and the cut is just ever so slightly off so either you don't mind
wearing things that weren't made properly or you had to because you're
trying to show it off. The former isn't possible given who is in this
hotel right now, which leaves only the latter. It's your design, which
you are hoping to show off as an example of your work, clearly more for
the design then the craftsmanship. Ergo, you are a designer just
starting out and probably making everything himself."
He paused.
"How close am I?" he asked with a knowing smile, which grew wider as he
examined the 'holy shit' expression on my face.
"Uh...dead on, I guess," my face deepening its red color as I became
suddenly very self-conscious about my choice to wear the outfit.
Maybe I could go back and change. The man seemed to sense my growing
anxiety.
"Not to worry," he said in a softer tone. "I have an incredibly
discerning eye for these things. No one will notice, I'm sure," he lied.
I appreciated the effort anyway. I looked into his blue green eyes again
and felt transfixed by his powerful gaze. I had to admit, his eyes were
stunning. Not only was the blue green color amazing but he seemed to
have little green flecks in his pupils that just made them richer in
color.
"Besides, I like the look, if not the craftsmanship. There's something
there."
The elevator gave another soft "bing" sound and soon the doors opened
into the lobby. The noise of the lobby's bustling activity grew as we
stepped out of the elevator. He had just taken several steps ahead of me
and then turned as if he had just thought of something.
"Forgive me," he said offering me his hand. "I'm Alastair Giles."
Of course!
Alastair Giles was the founder and creative director of one of New
York's, well actually the world's, most prestigious couture houses aptly
named after him. I knew I recognized him. He was one of the most
important designers of the last decade. Myriad pictures and magazine
covers jumped into my mind. You couldn't be in this industry and not
know something about him. Even more interesting, he was seemingly better
looking in person.
I started to blush again at that thought, but his face was all smiles and
his confidence bolstered me.
"Hello, Mr. Giles. I'm Jim, er, James, Dowling," I said, trying to sound
more professional.
"Its Alastair, please. Come with me James," he said studying the
vestiges of my red face. "I owe you a drink after that elevator ride,"
he said warmly an put his arm around me ushering me along with him.
We left the lobby through big double doors, crossed a small outdoor space
and entered into the next building. The short burst of fresh, cold air
helped relax me.
We entered in to a large lobby like open space that extended the length
of the building facing the East River and from which several smaller
rooms were set up, likely for the meetings and events of the coming days.
There were several bars set up and what looked like a heated tent out in
the courtyard.
I followed Alastair to the bar and soon we had drinks in hand.
Incredibly, for the next two hours we chatted and Alastair introduced me
around as myriad people approached him. I'm proud to say I played it
cool and after a while I felt pretty comfortable in the crowd. Each time
he would introduce me, he would take a moment and study me, study how I
interacted with his friends and acquaintances.
After a few times he would actually smile as I seemed to hold my own with
the leaders of the fashion world. I had an encyclopedic memory for
fashion shows and pieces and I was able to impress several of the
designers he introduced me to by recalling their early works which
brought them into the forefront. Alastair seemed almost proud of me, and
I was happy to be worthy of his introductions. To his credit, though he
had many occasions to walk off, he was gracious enough to keep me by his
side and introduce me into the conversations.
As if that weren't magnanimous enough, for some inextricable reason he
made it a point to tell certain people that my outfit was of my own
design and how much he liked my creative eye. With his help, I had soon
filled my meeting schedule for the next two days!
Just when I thought it couldn't get any better, he suggested I come with
him to his planned dinner just down the street.
----------
I can't really describe the feelings I had sitting next to him at dinner.
Honestly, I've never felt that kind of raw connection with another man.
A small part of me was concerned because I could tell he was attracted to
me. What's more, as confusing as it was for me, I was somehow also
attracted to him.
I've never been attracted to another man and I had been hit-on many times
in my years studying and working with gay men. But there was something
about Alastair that was undeniably attractive to me. Sure, he was crazy
good looking and very fit. But even more so, he was kind to me. He was
incredibly gregarious and outgoing and was clearly one of the most
popular people at the event and yet he never left me out of the
conversations. He had taken me under his wing and he was determined to
include me in the event.
After the main course was over and coffee was served (this crowd doesn't
do desert) we sat closely at the end of the dinner table talking. He put
his hand lightly on my arm and left it there. I had a warm feeling of
acceptance sitting there with him and I realized that the anxiety of
preparing for this event over the last several months had been weighing
on me. For some reason though, as I sat there with him, all the stress
seemed to melt away. What's more, I felt a strong connection to him, a
sort of fidelity. As strange as it seemed to me, I liked feeling his
touch, as if it was some sort of protection.
I looked over at him and he was again studying me. I took that moment to
thank him.
"Thank you for tonight Alastair," I said earnestly. "You've really been
sweet to me, including me in everything."
"Sweet?" When did I ever use that word in describing how a man had
treated me?
He was looking into my eyes and smiling.
"It was nothing, James," he said, lifting his hand off my shoulder and
brushing the back of his fingers against my cheek tenderly. "You rose to
the occasion. All I did was point you in the right direction," he said
now stroking my shoulder.
"Maybe," I said, looking down and then back up into his blue green eyes.
"But you didn't have to do that. You could have left me in the elevator
to go back up and change," I said softly.
He chuckled and slid his hand down my arm, taking my hand.
"Well that wouldn't be a good thing to do to the next star of the
industry."
He gently rubbed his thumb on my hand and I had a sudden jolt of both
panic and delight at his touch.
"How about we grab a drink and go talk somewhere more quiet?" he asked.
I'm a man. I've used this exact line with the women I've dated, or tried
to date, so it wasn't like I didn't know exactly what he meant. So I
just needed to politely decline in such a way as to not offend him and be
on my way.
"I was hoping we could do that," I said.
"What the fuck?" I thought to myself surprised that not only had I agreed
but that I was eager to continue spending time with him. Was I drunk?
Was that it?
No, I didn't think so.
I looked back at his eyes. Damn those eyes.
Soon we were headed back the few blocks to the hotel, talking. Alastair
put his hand on the small of my back, ostensibly to lean in so he could
hear me over the wind coming off the East River.
We entered the hotel and strolled to the bar, got a couple of double
bourbons on the rocks, clinked classes and drank half the drinks in one
go. We then headed to the elevator. I stepped to the back and turned
around leaning against the back wall. He hit the button for his floor
and then stood in front of me facing me, studying me again.
Thankfully no one else got into the elevator.
He reached up to my cheek again, this time turning my head slightly to
one side and then the other.
"Have you ever modeled?" he asked.
It was an odd question since I didn't have the classic strong male sex
appeal type body or look. In fact, I looked a bit more like my mother
and sister then I did my dad.
"Not officially," I chuckled. "Some at RISD to help out my friends. One
time, I had to help my friend Christie with her collection when one of
her models called her five minutes before her senior year show. I was
the only one there close to the model's size for the dresses she was
showing. I actually walked three dresses down the runway! Can you
believe that! It was a little embarrassing but everyone was cool with
it."
Why had I told him that?! Couldn't you just stop with "not officially?"
"Why were you embarrassed?" he said, stepping close to me. "I bet you
looked fabulous."
With that he leaned in and kissed me lightly on the lips.
A rush of blood ran to my face and a thought of pushing him away faintly
ran through my brain, but I couldn't. He enchanted me! His wonderful
cologne swirled in my nostrils intoxicating me. Without realizing what I
was doing, I actually kissed him back. When our lips parted he looked
into my eyes and broke into a big smile.
"He doesn't just look good he tastes good too!" he said softly.
As if on cue the elevator doors opened and he grabbed my hand and pulled
me out into the hall. I held his hand as we walked all the way down the
hall to the end, to corner suite. He opened the door and ushered me in.
A few lights were softly lit the room the large room, but not enough to
obscure the lights of Manhattan. I was struck by the view back to my
adopted city. Two walls of windows met in the corner giving us a 180-
degree view of Gotham. The fabulous skyline of southern Manhattan and the
imposing figure of the Brooklyn Bridge loomed in the foreground.
"Wow," I said crossing the room to stand at the window. "That never gets
old does it?"
I heard him put his drink down and watched his reflection approach me
from behind.
"No it really doesn't, does it" he said as he put his arms on both my
shoulders.
I glanced back over my shoulder at him acknowledging his agreement. He
took my drink and put it on the windowsill. He gently turned me around
until I was facing him and he leaned down and kissed me again. Again I
had a wave of panic and scintillation. This was such an odd feeling and
yet I kissed him back eagerly. I reached around him and he did the same
to me and we held each other kissing for some time feeling desire in a
way I never had.
Finally he broke the kiss and stepped back.
"Whew," I said, fanning myself. My face felt like it was on fire and the
front of my pants were definitely giving away my arousal. I reached for
the bourbon and drank it down, leaving only the thinning ice cubes in the
glass. Alastair took notice and, retrieving his glass, did the same.
"We're out of drinks," he said enthusiastically. "Let me get us
something. I know just the thing and I think you'll like it."
He walked across the living room taking off his jacket as he went. When
he got to the bar he pulled out a bottle of something and started making
the drinks.
I hadn't really taken notice of the room as distracted as I was by the
view of the Manhattan skyline. It had a massive living room with seating
area and large screen TV in the corner. There was an area designed for a
dining table but it had all been removed to allow for several racks of
hanging clothes, likely Alastair new collection.
On the wall to the bedroom was a small bar and mini-fridge that was
clearly stocked high with many types of wine, spirits and mixers. It was
a plush and comfortable room and must be four or five times the size of
mine.
"This is not a bad room, Mr. Giles," I said, genuinely impressed.
"What, this dump?" he said over his shoulder as he finished making the
drinks.
He turned and walked back over to me holding two lowball tumblers with a
liquid and a bit of a foam on top which I guessed was from the stirring.
"Here you go, a traditional cocktail from my home town in Scotland," he
said handing me the glass.
"Scotland? You don't sound like you're from Scotland, laddie," I teased
him.
Ugh! You didn't just do that! The bourbon was starting to take its
affect.
"Aye," he said with a wink. "Now, sniff it first because a lot of people
don't like it," He said.
I gave the liquid a sniff and it reminded me of orange groves and lilac.
"Smells amazing, are there floral herbs or something in there?"
"Huh. I thought so," he said sort of under his breath, studying me. A
broad smile broke out on his face as though he had just heard something
that made him happy
"I'm so glad to hear you say that James! How wonderful! Now, this is
meant to be drunk down. So, here's to you and the big week ahead of you
James," he said and clinked his glass to mine.
As he watched, I took the drink down in two big gulps. I'm not sure what
it tasted like but besides the alcohol, there was something orange and
maybe a bit sour? The texture was interesting too, not like a normal
spirit cocktail. I had expected it to taste like a popsicle but it
really was nothing like that. It was good, but also very different.
"What is in that?" I asked.
"Hell if I know," he said, putting on a think Scottish brogue and
smiling. "No, its just something that is brewed in my town, I guess you
could say. Lots of herbs, fruit zests and liquor. Until you get used to
it, its best not to sip it, as you probably figured."
"Agreed," I said, studying the remnants of the liquid in the glass and
giving it another sniff.
Alastair took the glasses and returned them to the bar. He turned and
walked back over to me, coming close and putting his arms around me.
"Alastair, I've never been with a man before," I sort of half blurted
out. "I don't know what's gotten into me tonight but I've never found a
man attractive before." I looked up into his eyes. "until tonight, I
guess," I said softly.
I wasn't really certain where I was going with this but I wanted to make
sure he understood my predicament.
"I suspected as much," he said. "We are going to make love tonight
James, and we can do as much or as little as you're comfortable with, but
if you trust me, I know you'll enjoy yourself."
And with that he had taken charge. I was his for the taking. There was
something exciting and enthralling about being told what was to happen,
and I responded to being governed viscerally. He slowly leaned down and
kissed me again and without hesitation I kissed him back. The pangs of
desire I felt moments earlier came racing back.
"Are you ready," he said, reaching down and taking my hand.
I nodded at him. My heart began pounding as the realization of what was
happening.
He towed me by the hand into the bedroom and closed the door behind us.
He then pulled me into him, arms wrapping around me and we kissed. I
reached for the bottom of his sweater and pushed it up and over his head,
exposing his strong chest and abdomen.
He was built like any man would want to be, lean and strong. He wasn't
big, but he was very solid with very little body fat. I ran my hands
over his smooth torso
"Holy shit, how much do you work out?" I said incredulously.
"I'll tell you later. Let's get you out of these clothes," he said
commandingly.
Between the vest and the shirt, there were a lot of buttons. Thankfully,
or not, my mind didn't wander back to the preposterous position I was now
in.
If it had, I never would have gotten the gift Alastair was about to
bestow on me.
We made love to each other and surprisingly, I took immense pleasure in
swallowing him down when he came into my mouth. I had always assumed
that would be the most sordid part but it was actually exquisite. In
fact, I liked it so much that after he was finished with me, I went down
on him again.
From the sounds of it, it gave him immense pleasure and I was very
pleased, after everything he had done for me that night, to give him that
pleasure. Beside, I'm not sure I've had a better blowjob than the one he
gave me. Absolutely incredible.
STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT INSTALLMENT!
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