The Fitting

She was being punished. She knew it. Somewhere, somehow she had done something so humongously bad that this was her punishment.

The saleswoman closed her eyes against the sight before her. They were an unholy trio of masculine beauty. The father, and his two sons. In her showroom wanting to be measured for tuxedos.

It was understandable why they'd come here. Mister Pierre was known the world around. One look was all it took to know that the father was used to the finest of things.

"S-sir," she was forced to swallow and wet her throat. "Mister Pierre will be with you immediately." Suavely, he thanked her, his voice pouring over her like hand warmed oil.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,' she apologized to whomever in the heavens she'd offended. It was a cosmic joke that the moment she'd sworn off men, this trio entered her world. 'But thank you, thank you, thank you,' she breathed in the same breath. Just to be able to look was enough.

The father took a seat and urbanely crossed his legs. He sat calmly and watched his sons as they wandered around the room. Their heads together, the two young men smiled over some private remark. Their white teeth gleamed against skin she itched to caress.

"Papa," called the curly haired one, "I believe this is you." He held up a bright cumberbund full of flowery design. His father merely raised an eyebrow.

The other brother shook his head knowingly. His smooth dark hair lay against his skull like a velvet cap. "Miss," he called for her. His full lips curved in a polite smile. "May I see those?" He pointed to several ties behind her.

As she turned to accommodate him, Mister Pierre bustled from the back room.

"Ah, Mister Cassadine, welcome!" He shook Stefan's hand. "And I see that you have brought the young Princes with you."

The saleswoman's mouth fell open. Did he say Princes?

"Come into the back, I will take care of you there," Mister Pierre invited.

With a nod of his head, Stefan accepted. He followed the tailor into the back, with Nikolas and Andresj' close at hand.

The saleswoman stood watching the shimmering curtain through which they'd passed until a voice behind her caught her attention.

"Hello? Can you help me?"

She followed the sexy Australian accent back to its source - the blond god before her.

'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...'