[color=gold]"You're late."[/color] greeted Charles icily. His voice echoed off of the walls of the foyer of Lancaster Manor.

[color=lime]"We kinda ran into some trouble along the way. Nothin we couldn't handle but ya know."[/color] Chet explained dismissively.

[color=gold]"What!? What do I know!?"[/color] pressed Charles.

Chet sighed deeply before replying.[color=lime]"It was the Slicks! They were at Lovers Haven doin some shit. We checked it out and it looked pretty lame so we decided to split. But there was this little kid. He shouldn't have been there. We took him home and stuff..." [/color]explained Chet. His explanation petered out when Chet noticed that same impatient and exasperated look that Charles wore whenever something began bothering him.

[color=gold]"As much as I appreciate your concern for the innocent youth of this fair town Chet you should've put your sworn duties ahead of whatever fanciful little whimsies you may entertain. Translation: Fuck that little shit, you should've been here on time. Now I'm pissed."[/color] said Charles threateningly.

Chet gave yet another deep sigh. As much as he sorely wanted to, he couldn't retaliate against Charles' rudeness and hostility. After all, he had the entire Salt Bay Turbos by the balls at the point. Chet knew that such a confrontation was going to happen though he cared not for he had much greater concerns at the fore. The kid, Toby, reminded Chet so much of himself at that age. Tagging along with the bigger and meaner kids. Getting dragged into things that he had no business dealing with at that stage of his life. Chet couldn't help but aid Toby in any way he could. Their trip to the malt shop was one of the happiest and most uplifting trips he had taken in a while. Doing a good deed while having a genuinely good time with friends was exactly what Chet needed. Whatever penalty Charles could throw down due to his tardiness was worth for that trip to the malt shop with Toby. And so there Chet stood, gritting his teeth whilst barely containing his rage.

[color=gold]"Well, it can't be helped. You came so late in the evening that I had to send the tailor home without any work being done. And you know how much I hate to bother humble tradespeople beyond their capacity. So I guess it can't be helped. I'll just have to take your measurements for you."[/color] said Charles a little too jovially.

[color=lime]"Sure, whatever you want. And the other guys? I sent them home. And don't worry, they don't need measurements or nothin. They're all pretty much built like Divo anyway."[/color] assured Chet.

[color=gold]"Whatever, you guys have probably never worn a fitted suit before in your lives anyway."[/color] dismissed Charles.

And so seemingly out of nowhere Charles took out a tape measurer, a small notepad, and a pencil. He then ordered Chet to adopt a wider than average casual stance whilst holding his arms straight out to his sides. Strangely enough for Chet, Charles began by squatting down and measuring his legs. Much like the old tailor himself, Charles took forever to take those measurements. Charles brushed up against Chets crotch more than a few times. Chet couldn't help but notice that Charles did it a little too slowly and forcefully for it to be an accident. 

[color=lime]"Hey! What the hell you fag!"[/color] exclaimed Chet.

[color=gold]"Shut the fuck up! I'm trying to concentrate!"[/color] retorted Charles.

Chet was about to respond with "yeah, concentrate on my dick" but then he wisely decided to hold back. He didn't want to annoy Charles anymore than he needed to. And what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence and crotch brushings later, Charles finally finished measuring his legs. He then stood up and began to measure Chets torso and arms. 

Charles then suddenly stopped in his tracks. [color=gold]"Your shirt's dirty and it stinks. It disgusts me. Take it off.[/color] he ordered.

[color=lime]"Wha.."[/color] Chet began to question.

[color=gold]"You heard me!"[/color] snapped Charles.

Even though Chet had never been to a fitting before, no doubt even he knew that it was a strange request. This request in particular though Chet was more than willing to fulfill. He was a little sweaty from all the stuff they did that afternoon and black leather wasn't exactly the most breathable material. Besides all that Chet always jumped at the chance to show off his athletic body to anyone. As much as he hated the horrible morning drills his father put him through, he did take pride in how strong they made him. And so without further delay. Chet removed his shirt. He sported a rather well developed set of pecs as well as a set of four pack abs that were burgeoning on a six pack. Chet had some body hair as well but it was sparse enough to not hide his physique.

Charles froze in his tracks. He couldn't help but stare at Chet in all his glory. A slight smile curled at the edge of Charles' lips. Without another word he began to measure the dimensions of Chets upper body. Yet again he took an eternity in taking his measurements and once again his "accidental" brushing wasn't very subtle. At long last, Charles order Chet to drop his arms to his side. 

[color=lime]"About damn time! My shoulders were killing me!"[/color] Chet complained.

Charles stood up from the stooped position he adopted while he took Chets measurements. He stood face to face with him, almost nose to nose. They stood there in such close proximity for just a moment, though for Chet that moment stretched into eternity. A look of hunger and greed slowly spread across Charles face. 

[color=gold]"You're a fine specimen Chet. I can really use you."[/color] commented Charles.

[color=lime]"What do you mean?"[/color] asked Chet rather nervously.

It was then that Charles grabbed the waistline of Chets pants with his left hand and pulled him closer. With his right hand Charles then reached around the back of Chets head and pulled his face closer to his. Their lips met and soon they were locked. Charles' tongue danced in Chets mouth like a seductive serpent at a very fiery soiree. At first Chet felt alarmed at these turn of events. A instant later though he felt calm, then 
passionate. Chets tongue then danced with Charles' well into the night.