This story is about a young man's quest to fix a major birth defect--he was born without a penis. On his quest he meets his soul mate and many other soon to be friends.
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Chapter 3--Shopping
Tom had never had so much fun shopping. Usually, all clothes shopping was just for him, and, as a model for several clothing brands' he had to be careful what he wore. It was in his contracts. The first stop was jeans, T-shirt, jacket and Nikes, which Chris wore out of the store. Chris was hysterical as he tried to play fashion queen with each new outfit he tried on. Every gay boy in the store came by to ogle Chris, which amused Tom and embarrassed Chris, but Chris did not stop showing off. The male clerks tried to peek at Chris au natural, which Tom prevented like a lioness with cubs. Tom laughed; Chris laughed; all the clerks laughed. By the end of the shopping trip, Chris had more clothes than he had closet space. Since he had no closet, it was not much. He kept objecting to each purchase as unnecessary or frivolous. But Tom was so happy shopping, Chris found it hard to say no. Chris knew that they all could be returned tomorrow.
It was 4:30 by the time they returned to the hotel with more underwear and socks to fill a small drawer, two dress shirts matching slack, three ties, a suite in a charcoal gray, three pairs of jeans the same amount of T-shirts doubled, a leather jacket and a black tuxedo, shirt, bow tie, and shiny shoes beyond the Nike's in fluorescent green, and Sketchers loafers in brown and black. Chris laid everything on the bed, careful not to remove the tags. "That was fun Tom." Chris kissed Tom gently on the lips. "But you shouldn't have. I mean you spent a bundle today. I appreciate it, but I will be returning to the streets tomorrow. You will be returning to New York or wherever."
"Hush." Tom gently put his fingers on Chris's lips. "We do not need to discuss this now. Do you trust me?" Chris shook his head yes. "Just then," there was a knock on the room door. "That must be the tailor." Chris looked puzzled. Tom just smiled and went into the living area to answer the door.
Chris followed Tom in. At the door was a smallish man with a precise face and thin smile that looked like he had a pencil between his lips. He carried a small black bag. "I understand you need a tailor for a rush job," the small man said. Tom welcomed the man into the suite.
"Chris could you come here." Chris walked over and stood beside Tom. "I need a tuxedo altered to fit this gentleman for a party tonight at 9:00 PM. Can you do it.?"
"Of course," nodded the man curtly, "if you have a suitable start." The man walked around Chris, observing all his angles as if he were a floor plan. "Good proportion, skinny. But that's better than fat. It easier to take in than to let out." Tom had disappeared into the bedroom."
"And you are?" asked Chris, feeling uncomfortable. He had never been fitted for a suit only dresses that his parents made him wear over violent objections.
"Maurice." Maurice opened his bag and pulled out a tailor measuring tape. "Please stand with your legs slightly spread apart so I can measure your inseam." Chris complied. "Now arms out." Maurice measured.
Tom returned with the tuxedo is a garment bag. "This is what needs to be fitted."
Maurice, took the bag and unzipped it. "Good quality. Now young man, please undress and put this on." Chris looked at Tom ready to object, but the look Tom gave Chris brooked no objection. Reluctantly, Chris striped to his underwear, which was not the cleanest--he forgot to chance into the new pairs, but Maurice made no reaction. "Please put the shirt on then the pants. We will start with that." Maurice directed. Chris did. "Do you have shoes?" Tom nodded and went to give them. "Young man you have a good body for clothes. By the time I am done, you will do the tuxedo proud. Tom returned with the shoes and socks, which Chris put on after the shirt and pants. "No, stand still. Hem" And then Maurice pined. "Take in the waist. And the seat. I'll leave a little in the front so you can add a tasteful bulge." Maurice looked at Chris and smiled "I assume you want to show off that nice ass of yours." Tom inject an absolutely. More pinning. Now the jacket." Chris slipped on the jacket. He had never felt such soft material as he thumbed the lapels. Maurice noticed. "It is silk" Maurice pined the sides in so the suit jacket tapered to the waist. Maurice had Chris button and unbutton the jacket several times and then stretch, reach, bend adjusting pins on the jacket and sleeves. "Very good, sir. If you would disrobe. I will have the tuxedo back by 8:00." Chris quickly took off the jacket. "No wait," said Maurice, a frown on his face. The shirt is ill tailored too. I need to correct that. It is criminal to have a fine fitting suite and an ill-fitting shirt. I have your measurements and will adjust that too."
Tuxedo and shirt placed into the garment bag and handed to Maurice, Tom thanked him and escorted Maurice to the door. "It is my pleasure. Mr. Greenwood is a valued customer and I am pleased to help his cousin." He nodded and left.
"Well, Chris, what do you think?" Tom said with a mischievous grin.
Chris frowned. "I feel like Pretty Woman. I don't like that feeling."
Tom face fell and his eyes looked deeply hurt. "I'm sorry, Chris. I never wanted you to feel kept or like this was stroking my ego by my helping some poor transgender street kid."
"Well, I do feel that way. You may not have intended it, but I feel out of control. In a day or two I will be back on the street. What need will I have for a tuxedo. The other clothes will be stolen or I'll be beat up by someone to get them. It is all a waste of time and money. Don't get me wrong, I really enjoy being with you. It is you and not the clothes that are important right now."
"I am really sorry, Chris." Tom walked over and hugged Chris and then pulled him to the sofa. "I greatly enjoy your company, more than any man I have met. But I was not lying last night when I told Zack that I had a business proposition for you tomorrow. I mean that Chris. The party tonight is prelude to the plan. So please give me a chance. If by tomorrow evening, you are still unhappy. I will let you leave for the street, but I will be bloody pissed and will miss you." Tom kissed Chris softly on the lips.
"OK, until tomorrow."
Tom's grand smile pushed down Chris's apprehensions and unease. What the fuck, enjoy the ride. "Are you hungry?" asked Tom. "Foolish to ask. I need to fatten you up while I can. Eat out, dining room of the hotel or room service." Tom wiggled his eyebrows.
Chris laughed, the tension released. "I do not think Zack could survive another room service without throwing himself naked at our feet. The hotel dining room looks cozy."
"And romantic," added Tom. "The food is first rate. Go change into something you got today. We will make a grand entrance, and magic the other patrons speechless by our beauty." As Chris walked into the bedroom he heard Tom talking to the front desk. "I am sorry sir, but we are booked until 10:00 pm. I can get you in then." There was a pause as she spoke to someone else. "Yes, Mr. Greenwood, I will have a special table for you at 6:30. Will there be anything else?" Chris shuddered. What kind of person had he picked up last night? He was fucking shit in over his head, but part of him didn't care.
The maitre'd, an unctuous man in a shiny tuxedo, led Chris and Tom to a corner table with a window overlooking a courtyard with a fountain. Soft music played in the background, Vivaldi Chris thought. A red rose was placed across each setting and bottle of Taittinger was in an ice bucket. Tom motioned to the champagne. "Complements of Mr. Greenwood, sir. Would you like me to open the bottle sir?" Tom nodded.
After the bubbly was poured and the maître'd left, Tom raise his glass. "To our future together." He smiled at Chris. "To our business success." Chris raised his glass, "To us."
"Good evening gentlemen, I am Thaddeus. I will be your server tonight." His smile was a genuine as was his soft baritone voice. "I see you have your drinks. Do you know what you would like? I would recommend the sea bass with truffles. It served with a scallop mouse and haricot vert. Chris looked at the menu. It was in French. He had a year of French in high school, but it never covered haute cuisine just declinations of verbs.
Tom looked at Chris's confused face. "Would you mind if I ordered for the both of us?" Chris looked relieved. We will start with a salad nicoise. "I hope you like olives?" Chris nodded, letting Tom take control. "My companion will have the lamb chops." Chris nodded. "I'll have the sea bass, but no beans." "We have asparagus or a gratin of celeriac, which I must admit is my favorite," answered the server. "Then that it shall be," replied Tom.
"Very fancy for a hotel." Chris looked around there were a few people in evening gowns and suits. No one was in jeans as he was. "I feel under dressed."
"The way those skinny jeans fit your ass, no one can complain. The maître'd 'd almost choked on his own tongue when you turn toward me at the door. Besides you are with me, so who would notice you." Humor glinted in Tom's eyes. Chris almost threw a piece of bread at Tom. The meal went with companionable conversation interlaced with subtle double entendres. "For a street urchin," Tom smiled, "you are very well read."
Chris smiled back at Tom, "Libraries." Tom looked at Chris somewhat confused. "Libraries are a safe place. They are open to the public so they can't kick you out unless you are disruptive; I have a spot at the downtown library, in a far corner. One of the librarians, Cindi, an older woman, sort of took me in there. Every day when the library opened I would go to my place and she would have two or three books sitting at my table and a bagel. In the evening. Raul, a twentyish male librarian would help me on the computer." Tom face frowned at the idea of another man caring for Chris. He knew it was irrational, petty, and possessive when he had no right, "Yes, he wanted my ass" Chris gave Tom a mischievous smile. "So I gave him a couple of blow jobs. But when he saw me researching gender reassignment, he backed off."
"I cannot imagine being on the street at sixteen. You are one smart, strong person."
"I managed. Some days it came very close--that was the question. But I guess I am a coward, like Hamlet. I mostly avoided trouble and people found me that made it bearable."
"Why did you wait for me outside the store, yesterday?"
"Outside that you were gorgeous?"
"You had no clue that I would even notice you or speak to you, so were you that confident?"
"Yes." If an eclipse could happen to a face, I was Tom's. "I know you may not believe me, but I knew when I saw you that you were to be mine. You may not believe, but when I saw you, I saw greens and browns swirling around you. It was vegetative, alive, generative." Chris carefully eye Tom's lips for a tremor, but the lips just smiled. Chris's heart beat thrice.
"Do you often see colors around people?"
"Usually. It has kept me safer on the street--black or muddy colors around people, I avoided them."
"When I see you Chris," Tom paused and looked carefully into Chris's eyes, "I see blues and greens with a hint of mauve like a watercolor."
"You see auras too?" Chris was bouncing slightly with excitement. "I did some research on it in the library. Most people don't believe in auras."
"Seeing auras is part of my family's heritage. My cousin sees auras, too."
"Yes," responded Chris, "I should have immediately realized you were related. His auras are green and brown too, but darker and more solid. He is a tree. You're more a shrub."
"Gee, thanks--a shrub."
"Like lilacs or gardenia or night blooming cereus. Exotic and intoxicating."
Tom sat staring at Chris--amazed, fascinated, trapped. The mood was interrupted by the waiter. "Desserts gentlemen?" He paused and looked at Tom. "Do you have something flambé?" Tom asked. "I think we need something to cool us off." "Of course, sir, I recommend the bananas Foster. We make our own vanilla custard." Chris giggles softly at the thought of eating bananas in front of Tom. Tom glanced at his watch, "I am afraid we will need to postpone the dessert." Tom looked regretfully at Chris. "It is almost 7:30 and we need to get ready for the party." Tom turned to the waiter, "Please add this meal to my room tab and a 25% tip for you."
When Tom and Chris arrived at their room, Zack was sitting on the floor by the door. He stood quickly, brushed his uniform down, and bow precisely. "Mr. Greenwood wanted me to personally give you these two gifts." Zack pulled from behind his back to boxes wrapped in black satin paper and red silk bows.
"Mr. Greenwood," Chris asked, "Are you giving us presents?" Zack suddenly looked very confused.
"No," Tom smiled at Zack, "I think these are from my cousin, the other Mr. Greenwood." Zack' face fell; his posture went limp. He had tried to seduce his boss's cousin. Holy shit, fuck, damn, so that is why Mr. Greenwood, the boss, wanted to see him tomorrow. Deep, deep shit.
Tom laughed, which made Zack even more uncomfortable. Tom unlocked the door and held it for Chris to enter, "Are you going to stand there and piss in your pants, Zack? Get your sexy ass inside and give us the gifts like you were told." Zack felt trapped with no way out, he straightened his shoulders and walked confidently in, until Tom gave him a quick slap on the ass as he went by.
Tom and Chris went and sat in the chairs by the French doors. "Please move things along. We have a party to dress for." Tom smiled and pointed to a spot in front of the two chairs.
"Mr. Greenwood," Zack flushed "Not you sir, my boss."
"Yes, we know who you mean. I've known him for some time." Tom was bemused at Zack's tongue knots; Chris thought Tom was being cruel.
Zack lost his train of thought and then looked at the boxes. "This box is for you, Mr. Greenwood. You are to open it then I am to give the other box to." Zack looked at the other box and the tag, "Chris."
Tom accepted the box from Zack and slowly opened it as if it were a strip tease. On top of the box was a card. "I think you will be in need of a good shagging." Tom smiled broadly and pulled a dildo with attachments out of the box. "Cedrick always knew what I needed. Zack when you see him thank him and assure him that it will be put to good use."
Zack was totally embarrassed. He had heard of dildos and what they can do, but this was his first actual seeing one. The thought of that up the butt made him wince, reconsider and smile. "For you Chris, Mr. Greenwood says to wear it in health."
Chris took the box from Zack and took out the card. "This is in preparation for tomorrows." Chris read. Chris looked confused at the object. It was a molded penis with scrotum with a lip at the back. Chris looked at Zack for an explanation. But Zack was still recovering from the dildo. "It's a prosthetic," Tom explained, "You wear it."
Understanding filled Chris's eyes. "I've always wanted one of these." A less perceptive person than Tom would have thought Chris's comment was sarcastic, but the wetness in Chris's eyes said sincerity.
Zack's eyes bounced from the object in Chris's hand, to Chris, to Tom to the object, as if it were a three sided ping pong table. Suddenly, understanding hit and Zack could not look directly at Chris. "I must leave gentlemen, although I am very curious about the dildo. You have a party, and I have work." Zack bowed formally and left closing the door behind him.
Chris studied the prosthetic in his hand. "I like it, but how do I use it."
"I am sure there are directions. We can repair to the bedroom for experimentation." Tom laughed and pulled Chris after him. For the next thirty minutes all that could be heard from the bedroom was hysterical laughter and "No not that way, maybe this way."
At 8:00 precisely came a knock at the room door. Chris walked into the living area wearing only underwear with an obvious nice bulge. He was happy. He was just a little closer to whom he saw himself--male. Tom followed Chris out wearing a hotel robe and answered the door. Maurice efficiently came in which a garment bag over his shoulder and a small satchel with tools of his trade. Maurice handed Chris the garment bag. "If you would take the tuxedo out and try it on. We will start with that for any alterations."
Chris took out the tuxedo and handed it to Tom. "Where would you like me to stand?" Maurice looked around the room. The coffee table looks sturdy enough to support you. If you would don the shirt and pants and stand on the coffee table, it should be adequate. And the shoes for the pants." Maurice looked a Tom. As if given a royal command, Tom rushed off to the bedroom to retrieve shoes. Chris with pants and shirt on stood on the table; he was unsure what to do. He was concerned about his prosthetic coming loose or worse. Maurice looked at Chris while walking around him. "He needs a belt too," Maurice yelled to Tom, the voice too large for the body. "Young man, you are too thin even for a model. Milk shakes my mother always said." The shirt fit perfect: it tapered to Chris's waist without being snug; the sleeves fell to his wrist. "Shirts good," commented Maurice to himself. Maurice checked the fit along the inseam and his hand ran under the prosthetic. "Good, good choice. Large enough to cause a glance but not a stare. I did tailor the suit hoping you had an attachment." Chris blushed furiously. "Don't worry about me. I've tailored for over 40 years and have had to adjust for stranger things. This," Maurice tapped the prosthetic, "this is good for you."
Tom returned with shoes and a belt. "Did I miss anything?"
"Maurice approves of my fake dick." Chris smiled at Tom a little embarrassed but more pleased.
"I figure," said Maurice, "that the body is like clothes, it is best on a day-to-day basis to have something your comfortable in. And, I can feel that you are more comfortable now than when we first met. Please, wear it with pride."
"Thank you, Maurice," said Chris. No one, not even Tom, made him feel more confident that he was making the right choices for himself. Tom accepted, but Maurice affirmed. "I really appreciate the vote of confidence. You do not know how I have tormented myself, how often I feel a fraud."
"You are not a fraud. You were lost but are now finding your way." Maurice turned to the side, pretending to check the fit.
"I hope this rubber thing between my legs is only temporary. Like Pinocchio, some day, with a blue fairy, I will become a real boy." Tom surreptitiously slipped a handkerchief in Chris's hand, which went slowly to his eyes.
Maurice went effortlessly about his business: trimming up the crotch for a firmer fit, a slight change to hem of the pants. "This is good."
Tom wet his lips and whistled "Chad is going to stand up straight when he sees you."
"Now let's get the rest fitted." The last item was a pair of black leather pants. Tom's jaw dropped. He had seen many men in leather pants, and the pants fit well. But on Chris, they were come fuck me, if you dare to deserve me.
"No, no," wailed Maurice as walked around Chris, "No, no. the ass is wrong. Young man you have an ass to make angels weep. These make you look old and saggy. I must fix it, now."
Tom thought Chris looked perfect in the pants, but who was he to argue with the expert. "Do you think he could wear these with the tuxedo jacket and shirt?" Tom asked.
"That was not your intention," Maurice looked confused as if that were the only option. "I made a black and gold brocade bow tie for that purpose." Maurice unzipped a pocket of the garment bag and pulled out an exquisitely tailored bow tie. He handed the tie to Tom. "I assume you know how to tie one." Tom nodded. "I also that this would finish the look." Maurice unrolled a leather scarf, as soft and supple as silk.
Maurice handed the scarf to Chris. He had never felt anything like this before. His experience with leather was shoes, belts, and a leather jacket he fingered in Macy's. This was not leather. He handed the scarf to Tom.
"This is the finest leather I have ever felt. Where did you find it?" Tom fingered the leather gently. He wanted to rub it against his face, but was afraid his facial shadow would scuff it."
"I found it in a small market in Paris about twenty-five-years ago." He looked at Chris and took his hand. "I do not have much left. But for you my young man, this is my gift to you. Tonight is your coming out, and you will never be able to go back again." He patted Chris's hand, "Now slip out of your clothes and get ready for tonight. I know it will be special."
Chris stripped to his underwear. Tom looked at Chris, his Chris. "Go ahead and shower, I will be right with you." As Chris left the room, Tom turned to Maurice, "I do not know how to thank you for completing all this tailoring on such short notice. But more so for what you told Chris. You do not know how much it means to me and to Chris." Tom paused, words not quite available. He just stood and looked at Maurice at lost and in deep gratitude.
"I had a cousin, once, who was not as fortunate. He lived his short life in misery. The human soul is not so unlike fabric. It shows wear and tear and stress. And that young man is worn thin. You are a respite for him. A chance to mend. Do not rip him."
"I do not ever intend to." Tom looked in Maurice's eyes with the ferocity of conviction. "I just met him yesterday, and I do not know about tomorrow, but each today, I will love him fully."
"You are right about tomorrow. I would like to say that it will be like some ninety-minute movie. But I see great difficulties for each of you that may break you. Grab love today. Now enough of that. You have a sexy man in the shower. I can show myself out."
Chris walked into the living area to be greeted by a boisterous "Hi." Cedrick turned from the sofa to look at Chris; he was seated next to a lady in her mid-thirties who had amber hair, like dark blood gold. "Hope you don't mind, old man," Cedrick said to Tom, who was right behind Chris, "that we let ourselves in."
"You could have entered onto us doing the naughty on that sofa." Tom laughed.
"I run hotels. I've walked in on worse than two guys boffing." Cedrick smile. He and the lady rose
"Oh Tom," the lady said running and embracing Tom, "It is so good to see you again. What have you been doing? How long are you in town? The kids always ask about you." She stopped for a breath and looked at Chris. "Who is this divine young man?"
"Ariel, this is Chris." Tom smiled at Chris. "And Chris, this is Ariel, Cedrick's wife. And when I say better half, I mean it."
"Oh Tom," Ariel cooed, "You are so right." Ariel disengaged herself from Tom and threw a hearty hug around Chris then stepped back with her arms on his shoulder and looked Chris over. "Permanent?" Ariel asked Tom. "No mam." Chris answered, "Temporary. Us is only for a few days." Ariel scowled, "That is not acceptable. You are perfect for each other." Chris stated to protest, but Ariel allowed no answer. "You are permanent even if I have to lock both of you in a closet, cast you adrift in a boat, or abandon you on a deserted island."
"I am sorry to disappoint you, mam," Chris said, "but this is temporary. It is the best."
"First don't mam me, I am Ariel. Second, when I decide who will be a couple, they are a couple. There is no argument."
"Chris, if you are wise, you will not pursue the issue," Tom smiled at Chris. "She thinks she is the matchmaker in the family."
"I am," Ariel stated firmly, "And seven matches, all successful."
"What about Clive and what's her name?" Tom said, winking at Chris.
"Sadie, that was doomed, and I just said `OK' because he was so besotted with her." Ariel stopped and confided to Chris. "She was very shallow and stupid. Laughed at anything like a pig going to trough. I will find someone right for Clive."
Cedrick broke in, "I better warn Clive that Ariel is wife hunting."
Tom laughed, "He cannot out run this fate."
Ariel stepped away from Tom and Chris, "Yes, you are perfect for each other. I think I need to start planning a wedding. Yes September, in the garden at Greenwood. Grandda would be in heaven. There hasn't been a wedding there in over hundred years, at least."
"Don't you think this is premature?" Chris asked. "I mean, men cannot marry men."
"Who says," Ariel responded, as if Chris had asked if apple pie should not have ice cream. "Men have been marrying men on the Greenwood grounds for centuries. So don't be ridiculous."
"I hate to break up this discussion of impending nuptials," Cedrick broke in. "We have a party, and I will drive." Tom moaned.
As they left the hotel room, Cedrick, leaned into Chris, "I see you are using my gift to full advantage. My cousin is smitten by you, so don't break his heart by being a git."
"You know my situation. I am just street urchin." Chris whispered back, "This is not My Fair Lady, and I am not Eliza."
"Things change. Tonight is the start of a new you. Spread your wings and learn to fly."