I arrived in Seattle for a job interview and realized that I had forgotten to pack casual pants to wear to a meeting with my agent. I wandered downtown and found this small men's shop and went inside. I noticed the pants they had available were casual and priced right. I was the only one in the store and shortly, a salesman came over and introduced himself,

“I’m Jeffrey, may I be of service?”

Jeff looked to be mid-thirties, gay, my height and slim, and overall, an attractive man. After discussing what I was seeking, he selected two pairs of pants in my size and led me to a large dressing room in the back of the store.

I entered the dressing room, and he asked to see them on me when I was ready. I closed the door and put the pants on and was immediately impressed with the fit and how well they looked on me. I was about to try the second one on when he asked me to let him see how they fit. Of course, I have let my wife see them, she had a good sense of style, but this was unusual, however, I opened the door, and he stepped in. He stood back and looked me over then asked that I turn around. I was standing in front of the mirror and could see Jeffrey looking at my buttocks. He had a professional expression, as he looked me over.

I was getting uncomfortable, but before I could turn around, I felt his hands lightly brushing the fabric over my buttocks, down my thighs, and adjusted the cuff around my ankles. I thought that I would protest, feeling violated, yet his expression and the light touch, reminded me of a tailer fitting me with a suit. He asked that I turn around, and he was on his knees, after adjusting the cuff and looked up. He said, in his lyrical soft voice, “I’m so sorry, I should have asked before I touched you.” He added, “Many of my clients don’t mind this attention to detail and service.”

I was disarmed and presumed many of his clients were gay and enjoyed this service. This was a few years before I discovered my bi-side, I felt I was one hundred percent straight.

He realized that I was straight, and asked, “May I continue, Sir.”

Have you ever been in a situation where you are overwhelmed with being in a new situation or place? Or maybe I was feeling the jet lag, arriving in Seattle that morning. I replied. “No, it’s ok Jeff, please continue.”

I noticed he was still on his knees and the position was not lost on me, having my wife and lovers on their knees many times before. I shook away this thought, I was buying pants. His expression remained professional; he was good at his sales job. I told myself there was nothing sexual here, not that I would have been interested.

With that, he adjusted the front of my pants, starting with the cuff. It seemed important how the pants lay on my docksider shoes. He looked at my shoes and I could tell; he did not approve of my taste. Yet he moved on, smoothing the soft fabric on both of my calves, using both hands and continuing to my thighs. He was squatting now, and his soft hands and the soft fabric began to have a noticeable effect on me. He was careful to work around my crotch and was now standing. I felt a bulge in my pants, and wondered, “Was I being turned on by this man, a gay man?” I felt embarrassed, he must have noticed the bulge. He was less than a foot away from me, smoothing out the fabric.

He was standing in front of me when he asked, “May I check the fit around your waist?”

I nodded yes, still thinking about my growing bugle and my embarrassment. I was unprepared for his technique, as he slid his fingers under the waistband of the pants and my skin. My shirt was untucked, and his hands felt warm, or was that just how I was feeling? He didn’t linger, as he checked the fit, sliding his fingers around, he was squatting again, inches from my crotch. I wondered how he could miss my bulge, as I tried to think of something to make my cock go soft. He finally stepped back a few feet and seemed satisfied, letting me know the fit was perfect.

He said, “You look good, the fit was close to perfect.” He added with a smile and a small laugh, “Do you want a suggestion on your shoes?”

Before I could answer his rhetorical query, he suggested I try the other pants, handing them to me and stepping out of the room. I closed the door and changed into the new pants.

I was feeling the jet lag, as I opened the door and eagerly awaited his touch. Was I eager for another man’s touch? If Jeffrey was a young blonde woman, hell yes. I was thinking of a blonde when Jeffery stepped back into the dressing room and proceeded with his unorthodox service. When I was alone in the dressing room, I tried to hide my bulge before putting the second pair of pants on. Yet, when Jeffrey ran his hands over my buttocks once again, I felt my cock twinge, and my bulge grow ever larger.

To Jeffrey’s credit, he never remarked about my bulge, staying professional throughout. He was, I am guessing, used to this with his other clientele. When he adjusted my cuffs, on his knees again, I wondered how many men he sucked in this dressing room.  I immediately tried to stop this line of thinking; I was just here to buy pants. He was here to sell me pants. In my jet-lagged mind, I was trying to change the subject. I am a heterosexual man with a big interview the next day.

My mind snapped back into the present when he stepped back to take an overall look and nodded approvingly. He said, “This one fits you well and shows off your strong legs and…” He seemed to stop, but I knew he was going to say buttocks. He smiled and quickly suggested I try on one of their shirts and went over and selected a blue short-sleeved button-down. He had excellent styling and taste and was a good salesman.

My mind raced; “Was I being seduced by a man?”

He removed the shirt from the hangar and handed it to me, and I didn’t even hesitate, I unbuttoned my shirt in front of Jeffrey. His hand extended to take my old shirt, which he did not approve of. He looked like he wanted to take it out back and toss it in the garbage, probably with my shoes.

I buttoned the shirt and he reached over and unbuttoned one of the buttons, and said, “Don’t hide that masculine chest.” He continued, “There, that’s good, take a look, sir.”

That was the second time he called me sir, and I wished he was a beautiful woman seducing me. Yet, he was an attractive man named Jeffery. My bulge was growing again.

When I turned to the mirror, I felt his hands, once again, smoothing out the wrinkles. He then suggested I tuck the shirt in, and I was now in a quandary. Do I unsnap my pants in front of him? He sensed my hesitation and told me he had to check on something, and with that, I felt relief. I unsnapped my jeans lowered my pants slightly and began to tuck in the shirt. Just then, he returned, with a small smile.

He apologized again, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

I wondered, was his apology sincere? I wondered if he has a lot of straight men as clients. He was inflating my ego and cock. I heard straight men enjoy the company of a gay man occasionally.

Afterward, he asked me to look at myself in the mirror. He was standing behind me and a touch here, a touch there, he exclaimed, “Perfect, so masculine and the shirt brings out your beautiful blue eyes.” He suggested I wear them out of the store, and I agreed. He began to remove the tags, and once again, I felt myself leaning into him slightly.

At the counter, he made small talk, asking where I am traveling from. I told him that I arrived this morning from New Jersey. I added that I was in town to interview with a major software company. He guessed the company right away. He asked where I was staying, and without hesitation, I told him, and he nodded approvingly. He told me there was a wonderful bar next door, suggesting that I would enjoy the atmosphere with the pants and shirt I just purchased.

We shook hands and I walked out the door. I stopped outside and looked back at this small boutique, wondering what just happened. Jeff was smiling and waved. My head was filled with thoughts about the store, Jeffrey, and my sexuality. Was I turned on by this man? Could I be turned on by another man?

As I approached my hotel, I checked out the bar Jeff suggested. It was upscale and I noticed the patrons seemed to be all men, sitting with drinks on the outside patio, most dressed well. I wondered how many knew Jeffrey. I was tempted to get a quick drink, but I had dinner plans with my agent and an interview to prepare for. I needed to take a nap. Perhaps I would check out the bar when I finished my interview tomorrow.

I never did check out the bar, as my interview went from nine o’clock in the morning to seven PM, and I was beaten and drained. I walked by the bar back to my hotel and it was obvious, Jeff had suggested a gay bar for me. I half expected to see Jeffrey but did not.

That night and a few nights hence, I fantasized about Jeffrey, the boutique, and the bar. Over time, I thought less of this incident and doubts about my sexuality. At least for a few years, until another incident occurred, this time a gallery owner. That will be another story.

Looking at these events through my current sexual state, I could visualize an affair with Jeff, whether in the store, the bar, or my hotel room. In the second part of this story, I share one of my many fantasies inspired by Jeffrey and his men’s boutique in Seattle.