“Here’s my self-birthday present ” your boss tells , sitting down next to you, as from your computer you open an email with the directions for the next photo shoot, which you are in charge of styling.

“Pretty hot, huh?” he comments, as you quickly scroll from the picture through the details sheet.

“He’s tall, if he has weird proportions it would be a huge problem, all the men’s suits this year have cropped lengths and … Wait…” you reply, scrolling through the requests up to that number “I have to contact the magazine again, there must be a typo, who wears a size 11.5 shoe?” you ask as you press the reply button under his amused gaze.

"What?” you ask, leaning back and looking at the man’s face on which a wry expression breaks out.

“Someone who plays basketball, how do you never know anything about anything?” he mocks you, taking his phone in his hands to show you the young man’s face once again, this time in a news video where he was being handed an award for best - whatever - .

“So, do you like my own birthday present ?” he urges you with a smile.

“ I do ” you admit “At least seems in ratio” you conclude with a sigh of relief.

A few blocks away, the day of the young Japanese basketball talent had also started uphill. He saw the pink haired girl sigh, standard premonitory sign of an incoming scolding.

“I don’t have to , right?” he blurted, taking the last forkful of the choco omelette he ordered for breakfast, now that he was in town for a series of interviews after the crazy week of the draft.

“Dai-chan…” she got serious, taking a sip of coffee, just to keep from screaming in the middle of the luxurious hotel’s breakfast room.

“Satsuki” he replied with a polite nod, before finding a paper under his nose with his signature on the bottom, the same paper he hadn’t read, and which imposed a series of side engagements on him, including the interview with that posh magazine.

“ What the -” he huffed, pushing the document away, returning the smile to his manager who, not satisfied with that victory, had submitted another list to him.

“ More?” he grumbled, scrolling through a list of ‘recommendations’ that sounded more like a prank.

 "What does 'seamless underwear’ mean ?“ he asked his childhood friend, who in response shrugged, pretending not to know. 

"When would this be?” he shot back, resting his face on his hand.

“Tomorrow morning, we have to be at the photo studio at 10. I managed to get the interview just before the photos, so hopefully  it will be a quick one ” she informed him, checking the schedule from her tablet “ Just… Please, try to be nice, you know how much the team sponsor values it!” she sighs, probably grateful to be able to finish her breakfast in peace.

At the conference room of the luxurious apartment building where the photo studio is located, a young man’s eyes look at you with a mixture of boredom and distress. Adrian, the photographer, is a nice guy, but he really can’t take any more of your leader’s mood boards and his tropical-sexual fantasy, with which he has been butchering everyone’s ears since the beginning of the week. The idea is dull as well as corny, but no one as usual dares to open their mouths because ’ the boss cannot be questioned’ . Too bad, you can’t take it any more, because a misstep from him would mean compromising your career as well, and that mustn’t happen, not at least until you actually have a career. As you write down the codes of dresses  worthy of the Rio de Janeiro carnival, you can’t help but think that it will be a bloody mess. Your client will go from being a sports icon to a laughing stock, assuming that once he sees the garments, he doesn’t decide to drop everything and leave you to deal with all the madness.

“With the red one from the spring/summer collection we’re done! ” the boss smiles at you, drumming his fingers on the long conference room table, increasing the pace until he has your full attention again.

“Spit it out” he tells, inviting you to take a seat next to him.

“ I don’t like it at all ” you sum up simply, not moving your eyes from his, now staring at you with interest. "He’s already flashy:  tall, huge and full of muscles. If we dress him up like a crazed rainbow, he will look even more trashy” you explain, shaking your head.

“You don’t like the vibe, you don’t like the model…Do you have a proposal, besides all these complaints?” the chief, who strangely seems to be amused, asks you seriously.

“Y-yes..Here” you tell him, opening a shared folder on his cloud account.

“I see. Your bright idea is to dress him as an accountant ” the man sneers at you, lazily flipping the preview of your selection with a finger.

“No, Phil. My way is to contrast his powerful silhouette with minimalism. I will dress him up as the most detached, filthy and unavailable man of power. That will turn him into a  sex God,  instead of a parade clown!” you reply piquantly, eliciting his hilarity.

He laughs out loud, probably at you and your impending dismissal, he laughs to the point of tears as he puts his hand on yours, and makes you jump in your chair.

“Good girl, you’ve finally learned my favourite worlds: filth,sex and power! ” he tells you with a hint of pride, flipping back your lookbook , flagging three tailored suits different only by colour.

“All right girl, you got me. Go ahead and deliver me your fucking sex God!” he smiles.

It’s nine o'clock in the morning, the morning after that briefing. You’ve been up since the night before, and all you’ve thought about since then, is what could go wrong.

“Can I help you?" someone offers, breaking your overflow.

Of that voice you can only say two things: that it is definitely a woman’s and that she is probably a foreigner, judging by her strange accent. It matters little if you cannot see her, because you have decided to bring the three outfits for your model yourself.

"Could you hold the lift door open for me, please?” you ask, getting an affirmative answer and a remark about the bulkiness of your load.

“I hope they won’t wrinkle, only I can be stupid enough not to take a coat hanger!” you grumble, oblivious to the girl’s presence, until she appreciates the brand of one of them, and you start talking about your next job.

“I know he’s a basketball player and everyone’s crazy about him, but he’ll be the typical freak with a bad ass temper ” you huff, as the lift stops just below your floor and you hear Adrian’s voice. You thank your lucky stars, and immediately ask him to help you with your load, and when your eyes intercept your lift companion, you smile at her in fascination. A beautiful girl, with long hair gathered in a braid that goes around her head and and a so sweet expression on her face, that looks like a fairy. She’s petite, but well shaped, tiny but with delicious curves.

She must definitely be some kind of model.

“Satsuki Momoi. I’m Daiki Aomine’s manager” she introduces herself simply, shaking your hand with a friendly smile on her cute face.

You reciprocate the introduction and give thanks that you have arrived at your destination, so that you have an excuse to disappear behind Adrian, and forget the bad impression you just made.

Or maybe you’ll have to apologise.

She follows you, standing behind you in silence, eyes wide.

“They’re amazing suits, but he’ll hate all three of them” she tells you, as soon as you’ve finished arranging the outfits on the rack. “You are absolutely right about one thing: he lacks patience. Just don’t take his word for it, Dai-chan loves to bitch, it’s his way of getting attention. Don’t mind him too much, don’t fight him, or he’ll bite back. Follow my advice and you’ll see, it’ll be easier than you think. I think he’ll gladly let you do whatever you want, seeing how pretty you are. “ she smiles sincerely smugly, perhaps not realising that she actually insulted you. 

You’re about to point out to her, but she grabs her mobile phone and starts ranting in a language impossible to understand. The breaking news, translated shortly afterwards, reports that the man of the hour is late, because he overslept. 

Great, you are already sick of him.

"Philip Schneider. Call me Captain, like everyone else!" the well-groomed man who owned the large premises in the heart of the city had told him. Aomine had followed him through the same looking rooms and the procession had been enriched by a journalist, a photographer and a make-up artist. Now he just had to find out where Satsuki had gone before he had a panic attack.

What he didn't know was that you were there, together with his manager.

"Finally, Dai-chan!" Satsuki called back to him with her typical don't-mess-around look. He had witnessed another show by the captain, who had introduced him to his team and make him seat in front of a mirror full of lights, around which everyone had gathered, except for you, who stayed behind to receive instructions from Momoi.

Who knows what you had to say to each other, it was so secret.

"Last but not least, my assistant, she will be the lucky one to dress and undress you today!" the captain announces, as the champion tries unsuccessfully to get it into his head that he has known how to dress himself since he was about three years old.

"Don't take this as a lack of confidence in your abilities. It is a measure to prevent make-up and hair products from staining your clothes " a new voice informs him, a voice he identifies with your face after a moment. You smell so good, you look so clean, austere and yet mischievous in your black dress that covers your knees and arms and barely caresses your figure. Your bright eyes, your lips a little fuller in the middle and your features so deliciously irregular make him discover something new about you at every glance.

If Daiki had known that he would be in the hands of such a beautiful girl all day long, he might even have bothered to set the alarm. 

"The fact is that...I'm ticklish" he grinned at you under Satsuki's embarrassed look.

"Don't worry, I'll be gentle " you reassure him, then ask the captain for permission to leave to prepare the dressing room.

By the time he arrives, he has been interviewed, moisturised and his hair trimmed a few centimetres after being washed in an elaborate ritual. He could certainly get used to this life. The ace sees you close the door behind him, and finds himself alone in a white room that looks like a giant dressing room, with a table in the middle and a wall set up as a wardrobe.

"Welcome, Mr Aomine! " you smile, as if you were the maid from one of his teenage fantasies.

"Call me Daiki, Mr Aomine is my father" he replies, trying to figure out if Satsuki was part of the game or not.

"Your manager told me you'd rather do it yourself, but I can..." you quickly stop as he shakes his head.

“Being dressed by a girl is embarrassing enough. My self-esteem would be shattered if you and my best friend teamed up against me, and believe me, anything is possible with Satsuki!" he observes, making you smile. "When I first met her in the lift, I thought she was a model. Such a lovely woman! " you comment, and this time he's the one laughing.

"She is, but she's also stubborn and annoying and... Do I have to wear this stuff?" he huffs, pointing to the three garments hanging behind you, swaying in the empty room.

"That's the idea. What do they look like?" you probe the ground, perhaps already knowing the answer he'd give, judging by the way your worried eyes are fixed on him. He noticed it for a while now, that way of yours. You watch him discreetly and sparingly, for brief moments at a time.

"These are... strange" he states, lifting an arm and touching the soft fabric of the latter.

"OK, strange is fine with me" you nod, handing the boy a dark robe and a paper bag containing long blue socks and a pair of black boxer shorts with the famous 'Seamless' label.

"Satsuki informed me that you would never remember, so while I was waiting for you, I thought I'd catch up on the basics. Now, be a good boy for me and take it all off " you smile, unaware of the immediate stir that innocent encouragement causes to him.

As you wait for your model, you wonder what your boss is up to.

"Sage blue, single-breasted is the first choice! I have to consider the shirt between these two and..." you tell the boss, or rather the captain as he has proclaimed himself today, probably to be more in line with your model sporting career. He doesn't listen to you anyway, because his birthday present has just come out of the dressing room.

"Handsome, you can do the cover in your robe!" exclaims a beaming Phil as you turn your back to retrieve the accessories. Chelsea boots, cufflinks because you like them, midnight blue opaque tie and maybe a watch, but probably not. You arrange everything on the table so that your boss can oversee your choices, and as you look up at him, you understand why the man is so enthusiastic.

Maybe it's his naturally masculine posture, maybe it's the broad shoulders or that look he gives you as he playfully asks for your help in getting rid of Phil. You know it's going to be a long day by the effort you make to look away from him.

"Is the captain always like that? He could beat Satsuki " he points out, probably exhausted from the latest round of inappropriate comments.

"He's an enthusiast by nature!" you try to play it down with a smile as you hand him the suit trousers in exchange for the dressing robe. A bad exchange for your nerves and for your famous coolness, even though he has the elegance of a baby hippo. None of his chaotic movements distract you from his collarbones, his defined pecs and his back, so firm and luscious it deserves a chapter in art books.

"Done. What's next? " he asks you, bare-chested, hands on his hips, his trousers zipped just below his flat navel, as if there were any need to draw further attention to his abs and V.

"Are you comfortable enough?" you ask him, though you can't see any major faults in fit or length.

"The trousers are fine, it's the briefs that are a bit... restrictive " he laughs, as soon as he sees you widen your eyes and blush, as you've clearly downsized him.

"Excuse me... I..." you barely apologise as you climb up a step to place the shirt on his shoulders, which he puts on and fastens by himself, following your instructions to tuck it properly into his trousers.

"No need to apologise, it's not a rating, is it?" he mocks playfully, just to rub it in, and gets an ironic look and a shrug in return " I really should thank you. This is an experience that will make me a better man. Pain will bring out my inner strength " he continues to tease you throughout the dressing process, even as he hands you a wrist to slip the cufflinks on and closes them with a devilish grin.

"Behave, champ, or I'll strangle you with this tie! " you threaten, but your weapon is soon stolen from your hands, only to be tied with uncanny skill by the boy, who confesses that he learned to tie the knot while wearing a high school uniform.

"Was it supposed to be crooked then too, or is it a special one that only you know?" you tease him, gesturing for him to lean towards you, and he doesn't hesitate, bringing his face so close to yours that you're afraid your hands are going to tremble now that you've loosened the large side slightly, sliding the cloth under his collar, tightening it again and pressing the two sides flat over his stomach, feeling him swallow. You raise your eyes and stay that way for a moment, still watching each other closely, until a sound outside the door brings you back to reality. 

"Five minutes to fix his jacket and I'll send him to you! " you promise Adrian, who lingers at the door for a moment, just to watch you work.

" Head up and back straight for me, please! " you instruct, taking a few steps back to admire your work of art.  You hand him his shoes and the jacket that fits him like a glove, say hello to the photographer who is on his way back to the set, and return to him with a small smile. You button the jacket and adjust the cuffs of his shirt, inviting him to look at himself in the mirror.

Too bad, right now Daiki couldn't care less about his appearance.

"Ta-Daaan! Done! Do you like it?" you sing, waiting for a reaction.

" You are the expert here, so tell me! " the boy acknowledges, distracted by the attention you are giving him, even though he knows you are probably just checking an insignificant detail of the suit.

" I do, you are just so utterly perfect!" you reply cheerfully. "Phil told me that you can keep what you want, so please do me a favour and take this outfit home with you! " you conclude, shifting your focus from the mirror to his eyes, so excited that it is almost impossible for the boy not to think of you in your bedroom, shedding all those unnecessary layers.

"Where am I going to go dressed like this?" he asks, amusing you.

"Everywhere, actually " you say, removing an invisible thread from the jacket "A press conference, signing a contract, dinner with the girl you want to impress. I'm not saying you need a dress to impress, but... As girl, I assure you it's going to be harder to turn you down dressed like this! " you finish, moving away to retrieve a strange sticky brush with which you will deliver the 'coup de grâce'.

"Are you sure it works like that?" he scoffs, taking advantage of your distraction, grinning as you verbally confirm your condition.

" All right then... Let's say I want to spend some time with you. A dinner in a fancy place tonight, for example. Since I have the dress, you couldn't refuse, could you?" he asks, and you stall, moving slowly to his side, sliding a hand down his back, finishing your work in silence. 

"Are you trying to embarrass me, Daiki?" you point out quietly, leaving the brush on the table and crossing your hands over your stomach.

" It's not me, it's the suit! " he smirks, looking at you steadily, his arms crossed over his chest.

"The dress is my choice, smartass!" you tease him, just to remind him who's in charge.

But he really is in ratio, even flirting.

" Then finish the work and pick me too! " he smiles, and when his hand reaches your cheek, you know.

You know you cannot refuse.