Helen... Ch. 15

Greta opened a bottle of Moet Champagne, poured out two flute glasses and handed Harry one of them to seal the deal. Harry recognised the blow job as an extra incentive. "Wait!" Harry held up his hand. "What is the deal?"

"Oh sorry, I forget to mention." Greta smiled. "I give you a fixed sum of seven hundred a month and that is it." Harry wasn't sure if that amount was even a going rate for such a massive luxury apartment. He had no time to check it out. Greta seemed adamant that that was the price and there was no more to be said or negotiated. They clinked their glasses and cheered the deal. It was done.

"Hang on. What about inflation? Don't I have the right to increase the rent?"

Greta gave him that evil suspicious grin and told him; "I will dictate that, not you."

"Ok, throw in a blow job every so often and I might be happy about it."

Greta lit a cigarette, one of the expensive pink wrappered brands often smoked by ladies of class. "Let's just say Harry, I'll call upon you when I need to give you a blow job whenever I feel inclined to give one." Harry somehow felt as if he had no control of what the deal entailed. All he got from it all was a fixed sum every month a 'promise' for more amazingly expertly given sexual relief. Although full blown sex would have been a better promise in his opinion. He wanted her body, a good session shared amicably, but he did not press the issue for now. Quickly his thoughts turned to Helen, who atleast provided such sharing whenever Jack was not around.

Harry returned home to old Bill. He explained the amount that he was to receive. "You've been done lad. That's all I can say. That apartment is worth atleast two grand a month. You need to learn a thing or two about properties." They shared a six pack of larger between them whilst Harry pondered what Bill had explained. "I think you should go back to her and re-negotiate that rent."

"I can't, I signed a rent agreement. It's sealed."

"Then all I can say is...You're a bleeding idiot." Bill replied, looking very disappointed in the young man he trusted and liked like a son or nephew. Although only a respected retail marketeer, old Bill knew his property knowledge from others in his trade, who also dabbled in that area of business. "Still, I'll up your wages a little to help ease your mistakes. Then you can find a small place of your own. Sounds like this bint is a femme fatale lad. I'd keep a close eye on her."