The door chimed as Nicholas pushed into the cozy tailor's shop, his lean frame covered in a fine sheet of perspiration; summer had finally come in, and with it, the incessant, dry heat that marked this area of the Midwest. Mercifully, the shop was air-conditioned, and Nick gloried in taking a deep breath of moderately pleasant air before looking around for the shop's owner. He found her, emerging from a back room, and greeted her with a pleasant smile. The sign on the door had said 'Greta's'. Presumably, this was Greta.

"Hey there!" The woman smiled at Nick, showing off a set of perfectly white teeth between plump, orange-brown lips, and Nick glanced swiftly from her large, brown doe-eyes down to her smooth, orange cleavage and up to the antlers framing her forehead like a crown, processing the new information in a heartbeat. A puazi-- not his first encounter with one, but he was frankly surprised to see her kind in this place. Mostly, they stuck to the coasts, where humans congregated in larger amounts, and where the sexual morals were somewhat looser. Out here, in a town of eight thousand, it was rare to see a non-human who was not someone's spouse-- and even then, it was a sight for sore eyes.

The puazi woman was beautiful, however, and made more beautiful by the exquisite pantsuit she wore; black and cream colors in exact measure to highlight her curves, her hips, her thighs and the ample swell of her breasts. She wore a pair of stylish glasses across the bridge of her nose, and her dark hair was swept back into a consummately professional bun, giving her the appearance of someone in their early or mid thirties. It was hard to tell, however, with puazi, whose natural cycle was different from that of humans. Leaner, shorter and generally hairless, the alien species had shown a great adaptability to human society, and had easily picked up the human languages as they migrated to Earth. In comparison, only the select few spoke the puazi tongue-- a few state leaders, a handful of scholars and scientists, and the odd human whose partnership with a puazi ran deep enough to warrant that kind of cultural exchange. In general, however, most everyone on Earth were happy to let the perky, doe-like aliens integrate themselves into human society. Not the least for the perks of having a few puazi around..

None of this registered on Nick's face, however, and he instead replied with a, immediately chipper "Hello," that made Greta's smile widen perceptibly. Even on her heels, she was more than a head shorter than him, and as she stepped up and ran her gaze over him, Nick got the distinct sensation that he was being measured up. This should not be anything out of the ordinary, of course, her being a tailor and all, but with her puazi heritage, you never knew exactly what was running through her mind. Nick shifted his weight to his other foot and cleared his throat.

"I know this is sort of short notice, but I was hoping to buy a suit."

Greta looked up from his collared shirt, and despite her pursed lips, the shadow of a smirk was still hidden somewhere in the corners of her mouth. "I see. And when you say 'short notice', you mean...?"

"Tomorrow." Nick offered her a conciliatory smile. "Tomorrow at noon, specifically."

The puazi woman cocked an eyebrow, as if the mere mention of the words 'suit' and 'tomorrow' were a grave insult. All the same, her smile refused to fade, and without a word she began to pace around him, running her gaze from the heel of his shoes to the breadth of his shoulders. Nick felt decidedly like a piece of meat on display, but he said nothing; he had known beforehand that he was likely to come away with something less-than-stellar on such short notice, but the fact that she seemed to be even considering the request was a good sign, he thought.

"You're handsome." She said it matter-of-factly, but Nick couldn't help but sense a hint of something more beneath the veneer of professionalism. He opened his mouth, but all he could think to say was: "...thank you." Unabashedly, Greta continued.

"Handsome is good. Means there's more to work with. If you'd been some fat fuck, I would have told you to hit the road - at a jog, preferably. But you-- you, I can work with. Good shoulders, nice ass.. and more than a few inches down below, if I'm not mistaken?"

Blushing slightly, Nick shrugged. "I, uh... I mean--"

Greta glanced up at him, and her orange, mottled face cracked in a grin. "Easy, Tiger. You've got nothing I haven't seen before. No need to be shy. You want a suit? Come on round to the back. We'll get you sorted out right."

Mutely, Nick allowed himself to be dragged by the hand to the doorway from which Greta had appeared moments before, and as he ducked his head to avoid banging it on the jamb, he was greeted by a pleasant chill that completely banished the heat of the outside world. Draped in deep shadows and illuminated only by a few windows covered in closed shutters, the young man was met with a cool and dark workroom in which row upon row of perfectly tailored suits and gowns hung from racks suspended from the ceiling, creating the subtle illusion that every garment was floating a few feet off the floor. Around him, a handful of artistic landscape paintings dotted the walls, and to his delight, Nick noticed that some of the motifs were explicitly not of this world. Strange, fungal plants and deep, violet canyons stretched beneath a blue-white sun, and for a split-second, Nick felt a strange yearning for a planet he had never even seen before. Like homesickness, only...

"Right. Strip."

Greta's voice was firm, and Nick threw a glance around the room before looking at the buxom puazi with a quizzical gaze.

"Do you have a screen, or...?"

She barked a laugh, and whipped out a long, flexible measuring tape that she had been carrying around her neck.

"Come on, I already told you you have nothing I haven't seen before. If you want a suit, I'll need to measure you, and the only way to do that is if you're undressed."

Nick shot her a dubious glance, but followed her over to a small podium, around which was crowded three full-size mirrors at various angles. Slowly, he began to undo the buttons of his shirt, but he could not resist a final objection, if only to put the matter to rest at last.

"My old tailor usually didn't mind me wearing something..."

In the mirror, Nick saw Greta come up behind him, and her eyes flashed with playful malice while the measuring tape swung lazily from her hands.

"Guess your old tailor didn't mind shoddy craftsmanship, then! At Greta's, you get quality, and that means doing it right. All of it." She cast a look at Nick's gradually exposed chest, and tried to suppress a grin. "Or you can fuck off to Walmart and pick out something from their rack, if you want.."

Nick frowned, but continued to unbutton his shirt. As the last button came undone, Greta snatched the fabric and practically dragged it off of him, flipping it expertly in the air before placing it, neatly folded, on a nearby stool. Nick made a sound.

"Are you always this combative with your clients?" Carefully, he reached down and began to untie his shoes. Greta, meanwhile, just laughed.

"Only towards the ones that I like. You don't mind, do you? It's just that some of the people who come in here, they think that they can make me give them a discount, or service them for free, just because of what I am. They think that their being human makes me all ga-ga for their bodies, and so naturally, I just have to fuck them." Walking around to the other side of Nick, she let the heels of her shoes shift the weight from one hip to the other, making her ass bounce pointedly as she snorted amusedly to herself. "Conceited fucks. But I can tell that you aren't like that. Got that look to you. Clean and.. mh. Polite. Now get those pants off, please."

Nick rose and kicked off his shoes, pinching the button in his jeans before letting them fall down to his ankles. In seconds, Greta had removed the offending garments, and Nick felt pointedly naked as he stood in nothing but his boxers and awaited the puazi's critical gaze.

"I guess I don't." His eyes met Greta's for a second as she rounded his front, and then she snapped the measuring tape up, and his words dried out. There was something awkward about talking to someone who was concentrating on a job, and Nick had no intention of disturbing her; already, her brow was furrowed, and he could see the blue tip of her flexible tongue poking out between her lips as she began to measure his arms, elbows, shoulders and across his chest, all the while letting her soft, feminine fingers trail along his naked skin. More than once, he felt a shiver of mute pleasure run down his spine, and with the puazi so close, he could smell her fragrance, a curious mix of spices and flowers that reminded him of some exotic bazaar far to the east. There was another note, there, too; honey, or something similarly sweet, that tickled the back of his lizard brain in the more pleasurable way possible. To his horror, he felt a familiar stirring between his legs, and his eyes widened slightly as he began to steer his thoughts in any direction other than the gentle touch and delicate smell of his puazi tailor. It didn't help that she was close enough to see the shine of her plump lips, or the swell of her cleavage as she reached up and draped the measuring tape around his back. More and more, the stirring became a physical presence in his boxers, and Nick cloud only curse his maker that he could no more control his own body than he could ignore the tantalizing closeness of hers. Softly, he let out a strained sigh and tried to think of awful and boring things. Math. Drain cleaning. Moldy bread. Eggs.

"So, why are you in such a rush to get a suit? Most people know better than to come in the day before and expect it tailored for them."

Greta's voice pulled Nick out of his uncomfortable reverie, and he shrugged, as much as he was able with the measuring tape around his neck, and made a soft grunt. "I'm going to a wedding."

"Oh?" Greta smirked. "Not yours, I take it? I don't see a ring on your finger."

"No. An old friend. Well, two old friends, really. I actually helped set them up, way back when."

The puazi flipped the measuring tape back over his head, took a step back and cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so? That must make you the guest of honor. Why are you out buying your clothes so late, then?"

Nick smiled; he found that the conversation was helping his erection subside. "I live across the country. Had to drive all night to make it here today, and I didn't really have time to visit my own tailor downtown beforehand. I checked online and saw this shop, and, well..."

She nodded, and her teeth flashed as she returned his smile with a professional's ease. "Right. Well, good thing for you I work fast. There's definitely a few jackets that won't take much work on you. As for the pants, well, we'll see, won't we?"

Thus saying, she knelt down before him and placed one end of the measuring tape near Nick's ankle. Slowly, her other hand crept up along his thigh, and he felt another shiver creep down his spine as she reached his waist. Something about her silky touch, combined with her brusque and strangely playful manner, made it impossible to get a bead on the woman's intentions. Glancing at the ceiling, Nick tried to will himself into not acknowledging the fact that there was a gorgeous puazi girl kneeling between his legs, and instead tried to imagine that he was at his old tailor - an elderly gentleman of Jewish ancestry whose son had left the family business to open a food truck for Kosher Hot Dogs. Nick visualized the old man's face, his spruce mustache and kindly eyes-- and then felt something bump against his groin. It lingered, pressing itself quite insistently against his half-hard cock, and irresistibly drew his eyes down to examine what was going on. As he looked down, Greta looked up. Her smile was slightly warped by her cheek grinding against Nick's manhood, and while her fingers worked to measure the inside of his thigh, she shifted her face and nuzzled her nose affectionately against the growing bulge in his boxers. Nick groaned, slightly confused, and felt himself harden fully against the puazi's tender touch.

"I knew it," she cooed, and Nick felt a pleasurable throb course through his cock as the puazi nudged her other cheek into his now-firm shaft, ostensibly shifting her attention to measuring the other leg, but effectively simply rubbing herself harder and more pointedly against him. Her eyes darted up to linger on his expression for a brief moment, and her grin made it clear in no uncertain terms that she was enjoying herself immensely.

"I thought you said I didn't have anything you hadn't seen before..." Nick did his best to keep his voice steady, but looking down at the seamstress, all he could see was her face happily rubbing and grinding against his powerfully tented underwear, and the flash of smooth breast-flesh beyond, a canyon so deep and so sensual that it was practically begging to be fucked. With a soft groan, he tried to ignore the impulse, but something about the insistent press of her face against his cock made him hesitant to walk away. It wouldn't be hard - one step backwards, and she would be off of him. She wasn't clinging to him or anything, but... but he needed the suit, right? And besides, what was the harm? If she was enjoying herself...

"Oh, sure." Greta withdrew the measuring tape and placed one hand on Nick's thigh. Her grin was nothing short of impish as she let the large bulge trail across the bridge of her nose, her glasses, her lips and her chin in a single, prolonged drag. Her voice was pure honey as she spoke. "Doesn't mean I don't enjoy playing with it, though. You know how important it is to get up close and personal to get the right measurements. A thing like this can throw the whole thing off if I'm not careful. We have to make allowances for a beast of this size, hmn?"

Her breath was warm against his skin, and Nick felt a buzz at the back of his skull as he reached down and gently brushed a strand of hair away from Greta's face. "Am I to take it," he murmured, "that you need me to strip down completely..?"

The puazi giggled, the first overtly girly thing he had seen her do, and shrugged while nodding, her fingers dragging up to the lower hem of his boxers in giddy anticipation. Nick hesitated for a second, trying to figure out whether what he was doing was a good idea. Then, throwing caution to the wind, he hooked his thumbs around the waistband elastic, and pulled the boxers down. They slid off in one, fluid motion, and his cock practically smacked Greta in the face as it came free of its cotton prison. The woman gave a soft groan, and seemed to squirm momentarily on the floor. In response, Nick took a hold on one of her antlers and guided her face up to where his bright red tip was throbbing in the cool air of the workshop.

"Just to be clear..." Greta's voice seemed slightly slurred, but she made great effort to enunciate the words clearly, as if fighting against some greater impulse. "This does not mean you get a discount..!"

Nick frowned; nothing had been farther from his mind. But before he could reply, Greta opened her mouth and pushed her soft, pillowy lips over his cock, and the words dissolved into pure, bright pleasure. The puazi woman moaned, mouth half-full of cock, and let her long, flexible tongue drape around the head of his manhood before swallowing another two inches into her hungry, blue maw.

Nick gasped; his hand-hold on her antler was firm, and as he felt her slide up and down his shaft, he began to use the grip to guide her, setting the pace while gradually pulling her deeper and deeper onto his thick shaft. Looking up from the sight of her brown-and-orange face, Nick realized that he could not have asked for a better arena for this experience; standing atop a small, raised podium, he witnessed three mirror copies of himself slowly push their cocks down into the puazi woman's throat, with a firm grip on her head that let him channel his power into each wet thrust. The sight of himself in the mirror was strange, the uncomfortable reality of one's own image in the throes of passion, but it was easy enough to ignore it and instead focus on the trio of mirrored puazi women bobbing their heads in perfect unison over a proud human cock, the slurps and gagging moans accompanying the pornographic view with such perfection that Nick felt his knees go weak with pleasure. Resolutely, he grabbed onto Greta's other antler with his free hand, and began to buck against her mouth in long, slow thrusts. In seconds, he felt her resistance give way, and with a soft grunt, Nick sluiced the last few thick inches of himself into the puazi's waiting mouth; into her throat until it bulged obscenely around him, and her eyes widened slightly with surprise and delight.

Illuminated by a single spotlight, and feeling the woman's wet throat flex and ripple around his cock, Nick felt slightly as if he had been lured into some bizarre pornographic shoot, but looking down at his puazi companion, all he could see was genuine enjoyment in the way she stared up at him; it was as if her eyes had become strangely unfocused, which Nick knew meant that she was now deep in the throes of the pheromone-induced lust that plagued - or blessed - all puazi around humans. Something about the way the human body smelled and tasted simply drove the alien people wild, and Nick had had the opportunity to see the reaction up close a few times before. None of them, however, could match the sheer, indulgent skill with which Greta approached the task of sucking him off, and with each slow pull of her lips down to the base of his cock, Nick could see her eyes go slightly more unfocused as she got more and more lost in the pleasurable scent of him. The sensation of her mouth and throat was nothing short of divine, and her thick drool clung to his cock as he fucked himself to the hilt against her face, feeling no resistance as he slopped his entire length, from tip to balls, into her throat. Meanwhile, he could hear her breathing as a series of humming, dripping moans, and with her hands trapped between her own legs, Nick was certain that she was getting at least as much pleasure out of it as he was. With every thrust forward, his balls slapped pointedly against her spit-slick chin, and he could feel the slow heat of his impending orgasm welling up along his shaft, expanding the thick cum vein against her wet lips and making him shudder and pant with growing restraint. But more than anything, it was the sight of her that was threatening to push him over the edge; the sight of her face, wrapped luridly around his cock, and the sight of the back of her head bobbing in perfect, obedient unison to his own bucking hips; the sight of her antlers poking out between his fingers, creating a hand-hold for her face-fucking more perfect than any human ever had-- it was too much. Nick took a good, hard look at the back of Greta's head in the mirror, watching it slide so smoothly back and forth in that way that all men eventually came to know and love, and then he pushed her off, spit literally dripping from his thick rod as he groaned with barely contained lust.

"Turn around--" He barely managed to get the words out before the puazi was on her feet, the heels clicking once, twice as she shifted her legs, and then her pants came off with practiced ease, the already-undone piece of clothing falling around her ankles with a skillful twist of her hips. The short woman's eyes were now more unfocused than ever, but Nick felt a very real sense of purpose in the way Greta nudged him backwards, causing him to almost stumble before his back met a firm surface - a pillar, broad and smooth and cold against his heated skin. For a second, he thought that the gorgeous woman was going to go back down to finish the job, but instead she put her arms around his neck and lifted one leg up towards him, which he took and curled around the crook of his arm. Nick could practically smell her arousal, the honey-tinge of feminine lust, and dimly, he could see her bare ass in the mirror, her nubby doe-like tail quivering with excitement as she strengthened her grip around his shoulders.

"Up," she murmured, and suddenly her full weight came down on Nick's body, his free hand managing just in time to catch her other leg as she jumped up to straddle his groin. Slightly taken aback, Nick quickly realized that she didn't weigh much at all, and with her arms locking around his neck like a baby monkey's, the act of propping her up became a lot more manageable. Of course, these concerns only lasted a few, precious seconds. Then he felt the warm heat of her sex press against the tip of his cock, and the delightful pressure of a warm slit sliding down around him. Skillfully, like a lewd acrobat, Greta worked her hips to catch and capture his cock within her, and then she let her full weight descend on him, sliding down until every inch of him was lodged in the velvety blue confines of her cunt.

Face to face, and with a slight grin on her lips, Greta gazed deep into Nick's eyes. Then she moved, bucking her hips slightly, and Nick groaned with pleasure at the slick slide of his shaft inside her. Gradually, her pace began to pick up, and despite holding her in such a vulnerable position, Nick felt more like it was he who was getting fucked, with her powerful hips bucking and grinding against his throbbing manhood. At least he had the pillar to support him, and with a slight grin of his own, he began to meet her movements with sharp, jerking thrusts, matching her speed but driving himself deeper and harder into her sodden cunt with every movement. Soon, the sound of flesh on flesh began to ring out, tinged with the wet, schlorping drag of a hard cock into a drooling pussy, and her moans grew louder as their pace grew more frantic. With her every shift, Nick could feel the exquisite fabric of her blazer grinding against his chest, and glancing down, he could see her breasts squish lewdly against him, the cleavage distending as she fucked herself onto him with whorish delight. Harder, deeper, faster; if Nick had been in danger of erupting before, it was twice as difficult now, and only the strain of holding the diminutive woman up kept him from exploding then and there; instead, he did his best to give her what she so desperately seemed to crave, and the rough thrusts made her gasp and moan and mewl like a bitch in heat-- which was quite fitting, all things considered.

Suddenly, and without warning, Greta leaned forward and pressed her lips against Nick's; he started, surprised, but did not resist as her lips parted his and her long, flexible tongue darted into his mouth. In seconds, her pace had slowed to a gentle, almost romantically intimate crawl, and he felt every muscle on her legs flex and work as she rode him gently and sensually, feasting on his tongue and lips with a lover's heartfelt tenderness. Closing his eyes, Nick allowed himself to be drawn into her lustful embrace, and for several minutes, he simply held her up while her lips - both pairs - continued to lavish with him slow, tender pleasure. By now, his arms were starting to feel numb from the strain, and despite the electric pleasure coursing through his cock, Nick knew that he could not continue for much longer like this. Gently, he shifted one hand down to cup her ass, and allowed her leg to sink back down to the floor. She pulled away, reluctantly, and stared into his eyes with a soft smile.

"Well?"

Nick grinned; he could feel himself nearing the threshold where practically any pleasant touch might set him off, and yet the burn in his arms kept him in check for the time being. Whatever Greta's motives had been - and being that she was a puazi, her motives were probably fairly self-evident - Nick was intent to at least give her something to remember him by before he himself was through. And knowing how little that would take...

"On your knees, please. Ass up."

Greta gazed at him for a long, pregnant moment, as if gauging his intentions. Then she slinked off of him and sauntered over to the podium, where she fell once more to her knees before leaning down on all fours with her ass in the air. Nick followed close behind, and allowed himself just a brief moment of savoring the view of her orange, mottled cheeks parting like a perfect peach, and the little tail wagging in the wind, before he dropped down behind her. With his thumbs, he parted her cheeks, and then he dove in nose-first, pressing the tip against her wrinkled pucker while pushing out his tongue to find her clit. The taste of her, and of him by proxy, inflamed his senses, and when he finally found the tiny, swollen nub, he attacked it with a broad, flat tongue had ground tight circles into her and forced a deep, almost surprised-sounding moan from her lips. With his hands gripping the puazi's broad hips and pulling her bodily back against his mouth, he soon had her panting and gasping in a puddle of their combined juices, while the taste of her poured over his tongue and filled his nostrils.

"Mmmnh--! Aah, fuck..."

Greta's voice was rapidly coming undone, and where she had seemed calm and collected before, she suddenly began to grind herself back against him, adding her own, eager motions to the lapping, drilling efforts of his tongue. Nick could barely breathe, such was her delight in mashing her sodden cunt against his face, but something about her wild motions made his sumptuous feast all the more delightful; he let one hand trail to her ass and swatted a hard spank across her cheek, and her grunting moan of ecstasy told him that she couldn't be far away from finding her climax. With a grin, he redoubled his efforts, and practically buried his nose in the dripping folds, until breathing was made all but impossible. He twisted his tongue against the sensitive clit, and pushed his lips around it to add the tiniest amount of suction. Licking, poking, prodding and teasing, he felt his way by touch alone until he found a rhythm where the woman's entire lower body was shaking noticeably between his fingers. Nick grabbed hold of her hips, gulped a half-measure of air into his burning lungs, and went for broke. Greta gasped. Then she came undone.

Her climax lasted far longer than it has any right to, and Nick had to withdraw halfway through, his lungs having long since grown painfully empty against her warm slit. When he recoiled, Greta's incessant moans grew pitiful and mewling, and she bucked her hips back against him as if yearning for more, despite the liquid lust pearling across her throbbing, clenching entrance. Nick stared down at the debilitatingly aroused woman, watching her shift helplessly against the throes of her orgasmic pleasure, and then he seized her cheeks, drew them apart and nudged his tip against the dripping entrance to her snatch. He felt her heat drip down across his crown, and felt the stirring of a millenia-old compulsion. The need to fuck. The urge, primal and primordial, to rut this woman into a sloppy, panting mess. Greta moaned, the clothes of her upper body in disarray from her squirming and jerking. Then Nick pushed forward, one deep, solid stroke, and her mewls transformed into groans of pure, mindless bliss

"Fuck, yes~... more..! Mh.. more!"

Nick did not need telling twice. He had already shifted his legs to plant both of his knees on either side of hers, and with a swift motion, he pulled her up and forced her legs together, creating a perfectly tight gulf between her cheeks into which he began to pump himself. With her face on the floor, the puazi's ass was thrust up towards her mate, and Nick abused this fact to the fullest, grabbing her waist and dragging her forcefully back onto his cock as hard as he could muster. Again and again, the sound of his tan cock slamming into her pert, orange ass rang out in the quiet room, and he felt himself approaching the end far sooner than he would have wished. The press of her cheeks around him, the tightness of her still-quivering walls, the sight of her tail shivering and bouncing with every stroke-- it would have taken an inhumanly powerful restraint to keep from exploding under such circumstances. Nick was just a man. He had no choice but to let go.

With the last of his conscious effort, Nick managed to slam back into the puazi's aching hole half a dozen times before pulling out and gripping the base of his cock firmly. One stroke was all it took; one stroke, and the sensation of her ass molding perfectly around his cock as he pressed his shaft in between her cheeks. Nick groaned and held onto Greta's hip for dear life. The orgasm was upon him, white-hot and almost painfully powerful. His fingers clenched around her supple flesh, and he knew that he would be leaving the poor woman bruised from the force of his fingers clawing into her. All the same; there was no other course of action.

The first jet of cum was more like a volcanic eruption, and it painted the back of the puazi woman's back like a scatter-shot of white. The next was less powerful, but nonetheless managed to almost reach her shoulder blades, a white streak of pearlescent spunk that would probably take a while to wash out. A third followed it, and a fourth, and as he gave himself to the sensation, Nick leaned forward and ground himself between the woman's mounds, fucking her cheeks while delivering spurt after spurt of cum across her back. Finally, the jets became a gushing stream, and he glanced down to witness the seminal devastation he had wrought; not only was the blazer indelibly stained with the fruits of his labor, but Greta's nubby tail was completely drenched in his cream, so that the soft fur was dripping onto her delicate, orange skin. Slowly, Nick withdrew himself and got to his feet; his knees were aching, and his cock was still leaking a few pearly drops, but Greta seemed to have grown quiet, her feverish lust slaked by the warm eruption with which he had drenched her.

Slowly, Nick ran a hand through his hair and glanced down at the woman. "You, uh.. are you okay?"

She nodded, but didn't move. After a few moments, she reached in beneath her prone body and reached something up to him. It was his boxers. Nick took them, a slight blush on his cheeks, and began to get dressed. As he was pulling on his jeans, Greta slumped into a puddle on the floor and looked over at him.

"You made a mess of my clothes."

Nick nodded, feeling simultaneously guilty and a little proud. "Yeah, sorry about that."

She smirked at him. "Didn't feel comfortable shooting it inside me? I might have preferred that..."

Buttoning his jeans, Nick shrugged. "I didn't want to risk anything. I mean--"

Greta giggled and shook her head. "I'm old enough to take care of myself, Honey... but I guess this was pretty hot, too."

Gingerly, she began to stumble back on her feet, and Nick watched as the pearly puddles of spunk on her ass began to slowly trickle down her legs. The puazi did not seem to mind, however; she simply wiped a finger across the offending trickle, popped it into her mouth and sucked it clean with a coy grin. Impossibly, Nick felt his cock begin to stir again, but he wisely kept it hidden away in his pants. With a bit of effort, he managed to button up his shirt and tie his shoes as Greta whipped off her blazer and unceremoniously used it to clean herself of cum. In nothing but an undershirt, the woman was absolutely stunning, and Nick felt a pang of remorse at having to leave the town so soon. Who knew where their acquaintanceship might lead..?

"So, did you get the measurements you needed?" He dared to adopt a grin, and Greta smirked in response, nodding her antlered head in confirmation.

"Sure did. I'll have it ready for you tomorrow at 10. That work for you, handsome?"

He nodded. "Sure. Guess I'll see you then, Greta."

Something in her face made him realize that he's said something funny, and he cocked his head slightly as he waited for her to drop the punchline. The woman crumbled up the now cum-stained garment and smiled at him with a poorly disguised mirth.

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong idea, sweetheart. I'm not Greta. I just run the place while she's taking a day off."

Nick blinked. "Oh. I-- I guess I just assumed..."

"Not a worry." The woman smirked and sauntered over to him, stroking a hand lovingly across his chest before moving over to a large hamper where she discarded the blazer with a blasé twirl. "You're not the first human to get us mixed up. People say we look a lot alike. Family resemblance, and all."

"I see," said Nick, who didn't. "So you are her sister?"

"Daughter. But thanks." She stuck out her tongue at him and walked her naked ass over to a rack of dark pants and blazers. For a split-second, Nick imagined her having a whole horde of identical suits ready to go, one for each male customer who came through the store. It was a ludicrous thought, and an uncharitable one, and he pushed it away as soon as he'd had it, focusing instead on watching the buxom puazi get dressed.

"Mind if I ask your name, then?" He said, ignoring her reproachful quip. "I'm Nick-- Nicholas. But everyone just calls me Nick."

"Therese," she said, and offered him a sly smile. "Although I wish I'd told you sooner; there was every risk you might have moaned my mother's name when you came all over my ass. Wouldn't that have been embarrassing..!"

Nick nodded, feeling the heat well up in his cheeks again. "Yeah, I-- I guess I should have asked."

Therese shrugged. "No harm done, right? It's not like you came in here expecting to fuck the proprietor. Although you wouldn't be the first if that were the case. Just saying, Mom has her work cut out for her..."

Suddenly snickering, Therese pulled up her new pants and fastened them around her flared hips. Nick watched her get dressed with the faint sensation of a school boy waiting to be dismissed by his teacher. Not that he minded terribly; the idea of going back out into the suffocating heat was not something he was looking forward to, and watching the cute puazi woman dress herself was proving to be remarkably interesting - at least as far as his stirring libido was concerned.

"Speaking of cut." She pulled on a blazer and buttoned it twice before glancing over at Nick. "I'd better get to work. Ten AM tomorrow, got it? And don't be late; we'll need to do a final fitting before we are ready to send you out there. Mom would kill me if I sent you to a fancy wedding party in one of her suits that wasn't fitted perfectly. Besides, she'll probably be gagging to meet you after I tell her about you.." The girl's smile was nothing short of indecent as she began to usher Nick back out of the store, and before he could formulate a coherent response, he had been pushed gently but firmly back out into the sweltering heat, with the stench of gasoline and fried food filling his nostrils. He turned to stare back at Therese, but she simply offered him a professional smile and a curt nod.

"Ten AM tomorrow, Nicholas. We look forward to seeing you then."

Then she shut the door, and Nick was left standing on the sidewalk, with beads of sweat slowly forming on his brow as he tried in vain to ignore the debauched pictures that her words had summoned in his mind. Slowly, he began to walk back to his hotel, but now, it wasn't merely the heat that was causing him to sweat. Between his legs, his cock tingled pleasantly. Yes; tomorrow was going to be a novel day, indeed...