Chapter 3

The next day they got a taxi to Warrington and caught the train down to London.

The tailor Lucy had been recommended was just off Jermyn Street, where all the high-class tailors were based, so they took the underground to Piccadilly Circus and walked along Regent Street and turned right into Jermyn Street.

The shop they wanted was on a side street about half-way down, it took them a few minutes to find it and they were only just in time for their appointment.

“Oh yeah, before we go in I’m not your sister, I’m your girlfriend or this will all look too weird.”

“Ahh yes, of course, much awkwardness otherwise, although this whole situation is already pretty awkward anyway.”

“Let me do the talking, you’ll be fine.”

Lucy pushed the buzzer, after a second the door clicked and Steve pushed it open, letting Lucy in first,

They were greeted by a tall gentleman in a grey three-piece suit.

“Good afternoon, would you be Lucy? And this is your young gentleman.”

“Yes sir, my boyfriend Steve.”

“Excellent, and what can we do for you today?”

Lucy answered initially with a question, “before we start, I just need a bit of reassurance about privacy.”

“Ahh yes, I understand, please be assured a gentleman’s tailor is like his doctor or priest, anything spoken about in here will go no further than these four walls.”

“That’s good to know, so there’s really no delicate way of saying this, my friend here is blessed with a very substantial penis, and he’s also quite easily excited. So, we need a way to prevent it being quite so noticeable if the worst comes to the worst.”

“Well, that was quite delightfully explained, shall we adjourn to my consulting room,” he waved his hand to the left, “where there’s no chance of passers-by disturbing us.”

They went into the room indicated, which was like a gentleman’s club, with a dark green leather sofa and a couple of matching club chairs. The walls were lined with cupboards and drawers, on a table was a coffee maker and a selection of spirit decanters.

Lucy, feeling a little anxious, looked very carefully for hidden cameras, she couldn’t see any places they could be hiding and relaxed a little.

“OK folks, take a seat, my name is Simon by the way, surely I should have introduced myself sooner, I do apologise.”

“Hello Simon,” Lucy said.

“Would you like a drink before we start? I have a very good 25-year-old Speyside malt at the moment.”

“Err, yes please,” Steve said his first words since entering the shop, “the whisky would be great.”

“Ice or water?”

“Just a little ice please.”

“And would you like anything miss? I have a rather fine brandy as well.”

“Sorry to be uncouth, but do you have any Coke?”

“Not uncouth at all, unless you drink it out of the tin of course. I shall bring you a glass, so we maintain a certain level of decorum,” Simon said with a smile.

They enjoyed their drinks for a moment, then Simon clapped his hands, “shall we get down to business?”

They agreed.

“Right-o, before we start I’ll just explain that this is something we’ve been asked before, we deal almost exclusively with men who can’t dress well elsewhere, be they tall, small, portly or very slim, or, as with yourself, especially blessed in the trouser department.

“There’s a few things we can do, you may have seen mention online of the simplest solution, which is to buy trousers a couple of sizes up, which is a terrible idea, as everything will be bigger in the trousers and they will look awful.”

“I did see that suggestion,” Lucy said, “and I thought it would be bad as the waist would be so baggy, and the back of the pants would be loose unless you had butt implants.”

“I see you are a very sharp lady, I’m going to enjoy our time today.”

Lucy beamed at the praise from Simon.

“So what we do is cut your trousers slightly larger in the crotch, but the rest of the garment is your regular size, and with clever sewing they look entirely normal. Your job is then to restrain your member in some way so it doesn’t take advantage of its new freedom.”

“Oh,” Lucy said, “so how does he do that?”

“Well, the obvious way is tight boxer trunks, but some men find these uncomfortably restrictive, and a little sweaty, although pure cotton briefs stop both those problems.

“The other method is the good old ‘Prince Albert’ although this is both older than Prince Albert and somewhat drastic, painful for both of you, and potentially dangerous.”

Lucy and Steve looked at each other and grimaced.

“Maybe if I could take a look at the magnitude of your problem we’ll know where we stand.”

Steve looked at Lucy and she nodded, so he stood and unbuttoned his jeans and lowered them so he was standing in the middle of the room in just his shorts.

“Oh my,” Simon gasped, “I can see through your shorts that you have a quite magnificent penis, and balls to match. This will take careful management won’t it, as it’s not the sort of package you can just curl underneath like some men, you’d do yourself an injury when you sit down.”

Simon looked at Lucy, “do you mind if he drops his shorts so I can properly see the girth?”

“It’s not me you should be asking really,” she looked at Steve, “I’m fine with it if you are.”

Steve stepped out of his jeans and dropped his shorts, and Simon’s jaw dropped at the same time.

“Oh my, you are a lucky girl aren’t you,” he said in an awed whisper, “does it grow much more?”

“I’ve never measured it, but yeah, it gets a lot bigger when he’s happy.”

“Makes my eyes water just thinking about it,” he replied, “well, down to business. Are you comfortable with that type of boxer trunk?”

“Yes, they’re fine.”

“Nice, so that makes my job a lot easier. Oh, you can put your shorts back on now, but not the pants, I need to take a lot of measurements.”

Simon fussed around with a tape measure, making regular notes and looking longingly at the bulge in Steve’s shorts.

Eventually he was finished, he had a full side of A4 filled with notes and measurements for trousers and jackets. He then left the room for a moment and came back with a selection of fabrics which he laid out on the table.

“This is the fabric used mostly for school suits, it’s hard wearing, and the Teflon coating makes it shed dirt and rain when walking between the boarding house and school. We can also have your house colours woven in as a very fine pinstripe and the edging for your buttonhole. Shows your house loyalty to those who know.”

“Very nice,” Lucy said, Steve was still mostly speechless, but coping better than Lucy expected with the attention, “does a suit in the house fabric and a plain one sound OK?”

Steve nodded and Simon went into many more details about buttons, vents, zip or button fly, they were both flummoxed so went with whatever Simon recommended was the current fashion.

Simon took a note of all their requirements and tapped everything into a tablet he took out of a drawer.

“We also make denim jeans, although such a heavyweight fabric doesn’t hang quite so well, they can look a little odd.”

“Oh I don’t think we’ll need anything like that,” Lucy said, “besides, a big bulge in a pair of jeans looks seriously cool, don’t you think.”

“It’s not something I object to, in the right situation, perhaps not at school though.”

“Yes, of course, but we mostly wear suits and sportswear at school.”

“I understand, now, we will keep Steve’s measurements on file, completely confidential of course, so if you need any new trousers or a suit you can just telephone or email and we can get anything you like made up in a matter of days.”

“That’s great, when will these suits be ready?” Lucy asked.

“Three- or four-days miss, and as these are the first suits Steve has been measured for, we would prefer it if they could be collected in person, so we can make any slight adjustments necessary.”

“Not a problem, I guessed that that would be the case, so if we make an appointment to collect them next Monday, would that be OK?”

“I think that would be fine, now for the sordid details of payment. Will madame be paying?”

“I will.”

“Splendid, I’m afraid for a first order we require full payment in advance, but we soften the blow with a 15% new customer discount,” Simon tapped more details into the tablet, “so the final figure comes to...” he turned the tablet so Lucy could see the total.

She knew it wouldn’t be cheap, but this was a little more than she expected. Luckily, she had Jerry’s charge card and he never checks his bills, just lets his accountant pay them off each month. She slid Jerry’s Amex Centurion card across the table.

“Ahh, so you’re Jerry Temple’s daughter, I remember seeing his band many years ago at the Astoria. What’s he doing these days?

“Mostly TV soundtracks and session work, he still tours a couple of times a year.”

“Very good, I think he has had some suits from us in the past, give him our regards.”

Simon pulled his card terminal out of a drawer and inserted the black Amex and Lucy tapped in her dad’s PIN.

Simon handed over the receipt and opened his appointment book, “let’s see, Monday, yes I can fit you in at 2pm, would that work?”

“That would be great,” she looked at Steve, who still hadn’t really spoken, “yes, we’ll come down on Sunday and spend a couple of days as tourists.”

Simon shook their hands and led them out of the shop, “see you next week,” Steve stepped out first and Simon spoke when Lucy was at the door, “it’s so good to see a girl being so close to her brother. I would never go anywhere with my sisters.”

Lucy looked horrified, “well, we’re a close family,” is all she could think of saying.

“He’s the spitting image of Jerry, well his face is, the rest not so much, but maybe that’s too much information. Don’t worry, we’re like priests, nothing leaves these four walls, you have my word on that. See you next week dear.”

“Oh shit,” she thought, “does he know just how close we are. Best not mention that to Steve.”

She caught up with her brother, who was a few shops down looking at shoes, and took his hand. They went in search of a bar.

With a pint of Guinness in his hand Steve spoke at last.

“Well, that was weird, I can’t believe I had to show him my knob.”

“Mmm, yes, I don’t think that was absolutely necessary. I imagine that was just for self-gratification, but look on the bright side, you definitely have a knob to be proud of.”

“Mmm, that may be true, but it can be annoying. I hope these trousers help me out, because I really need to pass this module to stand a chance of a good pass on the whole course.”

“You’ll be fine Steve, I’ve got a great feeling about this year.”

“I hope you’re right, I really do.”

“I am, I’ve got a plan in place to make sure of it.”

“Are you going to let me in on your plan?”

“When the time is right. Anyway, we need to get the train back, I’ll book our trip back down on the way home, find us a cool hotel to stay over Sunday night.”

The train back was quiet, so they managed to get upgraded to First Class, for free once the train manager got a glimpse of Lucy’s cleavage.

Lucy spent the journey back looking for hotels and places to see in London, and with a bit of juggling between her phone and tablet searching voucher sites she bagged two nights in a very posh looking hotel near the Inns of Court off Fleet Street where all the expensive Barristers have their chambers. The offer also included two nights membership of the hotel’s private club and meals in one of its restaurants, all for a lot less than a single night normally.

Naturally this, and the train journey went on her dad’s card.

Steve spent the journey reading an Alex Gray novel, he’d recently started reading her books about art loving Detective Chief Inspector William Lorrimer, they’re quite dark, but the descriptions of Glasgow really made him want to visit the city, maybe they could take a trip up at half term in October.

The next couple of days were spent in a flurry of laundry, washing clothes from the month away and their uniform and bedding to take back to school.

Diane was away at meetings with her publisher, but Jerry was at home, so Lucy and Steve didn’t get to have any sexy time and Lucy was getting seriously horny. She contented herself with the thought that soon she would spending two full days with Steve in a hotel.

Sunday saw them back in London, they got an early train to make most of their time and spent the afternoon in the Victoria and Albert Museum, whiling away a couple of hours in an exhibition of gig posters from the last 50 years, Steve was glad Lucy had insisted he brought his sketch pad to draw some ideas.

From the V&A they took the Underground to Temple and checked into their hotel.

Their room was a Super Deluxe Suite with a balcony overlooking the Inns of Court and the Temple Church, which had been the Knights Templar’s headquarters in the Middle Ages.

The room had a king-sized bed, a 50” TV with Sky Movies, a pod coffee machine and a huge bathroom with a corner bath Lucy was certain would fit them both should the mood take them.

They checked the various restaurant menus and nothing took their fancy, so Steve said he’d heard about a great Indian restaurant near Carnaby Street, so they left the hotel and hopped back on the tube and changed at Victoria for the Victoria Line to Oxford Circus.

After an amazing curry and a couple of beers they visited a few bars, where the both of them were hit on by members of both sexes, as they walked between the third and fourth bar Lucy asked Steve if he was comfortable with the attention.

“No, I really don’t like all this, I suppose it’s flattering, but these are strangers coming on to us, they know nothing about us, so clearly all they want is sex.”

“But sex is fun, we know that.”

“I know, but just sex for fun, isn’t that empty, just worthless exertion, there’s no love, so it means nothing.”

“I think I know what you mean, but unless we try it, won’t we be curious about what sex would be like with someone else?”

“No, I just want you, because I love you, and don’t love any of the people we’ve met, in fact, some of them were pretty horrible people, I think some of them were on drugs as well, one woman was still wiping powder off her nose as she come up to me.”

“Thank you Steve, this is exactly what I feel. I definitely don’t want someone I’ve only just met poking away at my pussy, someone who could barely lift their eyes off my tits even though I’m wearing a baggy t-shirt so not showing anything beyond a large bulge across my chest.”

With the decision they weren’t looking to pick-up a one-night stand made they headed back to Oxford Circus and hopped on a tube back to their hotel.

It was still fairly early, so they decided to make use of the club membership that came with their room. They asked the receptionist how to get to the club, she told them to use the middle lift and slide their room keycard into the slot below the buttons, it would take them to the top floor, the club was at the end of the corridor, on a bridge between the two halves of the building.

Steve pushed open the heavy door, they were greeted by a low murmur and the distinct smell of cigar smoke, which he could see was coming from a large open balcony.

The club was a much larger version of the Sixth Form library at school, dark wood bookshelves, deep green leather sofas and armchairs, and a bar in the middle of the room.

“Urghh, let’s get a table as far away from the balcony as we can.” Lucy said, screwing her face in disgust at the cigar smell.

“Yeah there’s a table past the bar, over there.”

As Steve was reading the drinks menu Lucy’s phone rang, she checked the screen, “it’s mum ... Hi mum ... we’re in London ... I thought I told you, we came to see an exhibition at the Victoria and Albert ... yes, some classic concert posters, to help Steve with his course...”

Lucy held her phone away from her ear, Steve could hear Diane ranting.

Diane eventually drew breath and Lucy put her phone back to her ear, “Ah right, yes, that one, Steve painted it on holiday ... yes, I was facing away ... yes, I know I’m nude in the picture, but I wasn’t, Steve didn’t see anything, honest. Yes, thank you, it does look very nice, I know, he’s very talented ... We’ll be back Tuesday, we’ll have plenty of time to pack before we go back to school on Sunday ... yes, it does sound like we’re in a bar, we’re in a hotel, no we’re not drinking ... See you Tuesday bye...”

Lucy put the phone back in her pocket.

“Shit, mum was putting my clothes away in my wardrobe and found the painting.”

“Oh god, did she freak out.”

“Yep, but I put her mind at rest, said you didn’t see anything and I really had a bikini on but asked you not to paint it.”

“That was smart of you.”

“So she thinks it’s wonderful and you’re very talented, but perhaps it would be an idea not to display it publicly at the moment.”

“Well that’s a relief.”

“And thank fuck she didn’t find the rest of the pictures, they’re very well hidden.”

“Good, make sure you keep them hidden.”

“Don’t worry, they’re in a tube right at the back of my wardrobe under my old toys.”

“You’re so clever Lucy, I wish I was as bright as you.”

“You have your own talents Steve, you make me feel like nothing on Earth, and that’s not just in sexy times. Like now, I feel so comfortable with you, we can talk about anything, we don’t even need to talk, just being here together, that’s enough for me to feel such joy inside.”

“This is proper love isn’t it, like true love.”

“I think so.”

“But it’s so wrong, with us being siblings, it’s illegal.”

“It is Steve, which is why we can’t let anyone know.”

“Yes, I really hope we can keep it secret, because I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“Definitely, I couldn’t cope with that.”

Lucy leaned forwards and kissed Steve, they kissed for a while until Lucy noticed a shadow fall across them and pulled away.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said a waiter, “are you ready to order drinks?”

“Not yet, give us a couple of minutes,” Lucy snapped back.

“Sorry my arse,” she spat as he walked away, “I wonder how long he’d been watching.”

Steve was bright red, so angry he could barely speak.

Lucy picked up the cocktail menu, “Mmm I fancy a cocktail, oh calm down Steve, nobody here knows or cares we’re related, and you are so allowed to kiss me if you want to. I’m having a White Russian, what do you want?”

“I want a whisky, but not sure which, there’s like 200 in this menu, way too much choice. Oh look, they’ve got a 2001 Lagavulin, that’s the year I was born, I’ll have a double of that, one ice cube.”

The waiter reappeared, “are we ready to order?”

“Yes we are,” Lucy answered brightly, “my boyfriend will have the 2001 Lagavulin, a double, one spring water ice cube, not tap water. I’ll have a White Russian, made with Stolichnaya Blue and semi-skimmed milk, not cream.”

“Very good miss,” and he slouched off.

“I decided to make the order a bit complicated to test him, there’s no way that snide twat’s getting a tip.”

The drinks arrived, presented perfectly, just as Lucy ordered, although there was no way of testing whether the ice cube was spring water rather than tap water, which didn’t bother either of them anyway.

“This is fantastic,” Lucy said after having a sip of her White Russian. “I’ve seen The Big Lebowski like a million times and always fancied a White Russian, but didn’t believe it would work, who on earth thought of mixing vodka, Kahlua and milk? It’s seriously amazing though. How’s your whisky?”

“Very nice, smooth but with a smoky taste from the peat. I’ve not had this before, but my house master rates it.”