Negotiation Mode

Note: To refute the assumption that I can't write a story that doesn't actually contain a description of the sex act, I present this. I hope this story stands on its own, because it'll almost certainly end up with the lowest rating I've had yet. So be it!

It was the third power outage this month, and I was getting tired of calling the same recorded voice, pushing the required selection of buttons, then being told it would be "X" number of hours before our service would be reinstated. I snuggled further down inside my blankets, relishing the warmth of the sheets against my naked body, but knowing I had to get out of bed at some point. Then I made a decision. If I couldn't have heat, I was going somewhere warm, dammit!

It had been unseasonably cold for Southern California, and our apartment was never equipped for such chilly temperatures. We had only an inadequate space heater and the kitchen oven. The bedroom seemed to be getting colder by the minute. Reluctantly, I climbed from beneath the blankets. Brrrrrrr! My body was a mass of gooseflesh. Still, I had to admit the cold was somewhat invigorating. It made me feel sexy and horny. My husband, of course, was at work, so there was no relief to be found there. Well, at least he was staying warm, I thought glumly.

Rummaging quickly through my dresser, I found a pair of black stretch pants I'd bought for just such weather two years ago and had promptly forgotten. I pulled them on, assaying the way they looked in the mirror. I liked the way they wrapped tightly around my thighs, putting the ripe plum of my pubic mound on display. I didn't care for the line of the panties I had put on beneath, though, so I stripped again and eliminated them. There, that was better! Going commando felt so much more erotic.

Next up was a bulky sweater, but the way it felt against my skin was annoying, so I ditched it in favor of a bright orange knit top that hugged my bare breasts like a pair of soft hands. It left my waist mostly bare, but the neckline was cut nicely, just deep enough to show a lot of lightly tanned cleavage. I posed in front of the mirror, thrusting my chest out and making cheeky faces at myself. Flipping my hair over one shoulder, I decided I looked good. I also suspected that when I took my jacket off, my nipples would be standing out like marbles from the cold!

I hate wearing hats, but I had a black knit cap that matched my pants, and with my black down jacket, I now had an ensemble. I headed for my car.

The drive downtown was short and brisk. My heater barely had a chance to warm up, and my cheeks were still flushed from the cold when I parked and headed into my favorite coffee shop.

"Tori! My favorite pretty girl!"

That was Armando, the owner. He was at his usual place behind the counter, wearing the sleeveless white t-shirt and white cook's pants he apparently wore every day of his life. He took both my hands in his over the counter, ignoring the well-dressed couple standing before the counter when I walked in, and exclaimed loudly that I looked good enough to eat. I glanced at the couple, and noticed her scowl and his grin. The man was nodding slightly, and his eyes were appraising me. They captured mine. Bright blue and sensual, they were sexy eyes, in spite of his being at least 20 years my senior. I could fuck this guy, I thought. I couldn't help but wonder if his expression of interest indicated that he was thinking along those same lines.

"Armando, can I get a cup of hot chai tea once you've waited on these nice people?" I asked, not wanting to offend. I pulled my hands from his and stepped back.

"Of course," he said, "but these are not just customers, Tori. These are the Gwynn's, the landlords of this building." His voice turned dark. "They say I gotta leave, I don't get the lease paid up."

"What???" I turned to the couple, appraising them as I did. They were late middle-aged, both attractive people. His hair was silver-gray, but she looked older than he. They exuded wealth, both through their expensive clothing and their bearing.

"Hi," I said, "I'm Tori." I extended my hand. She ignored me, but the man took my hand and shook it immediately. His hand was strong and warm. I felt a little shock when he touched me that I wasn't entirely sure was static electricity. He spoke, and his voice was as inviting as his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Tori," he said. His eyes dropped to my open jacket after meeting mine, and I wondered if my nipples were already on display. Then they settled even lower. I could literally feel his gaze caressing my body. After he relinquished my hand, I found myself breathing just a little harder, and I was acutely aware that I was naked beneath my stretch pants. Wow!

We had a short conversation before his wife cut in and announced that they had to leave. He handed me a business card from his jacket pocket as she walked out the door. "Call me sometime," he said under his breath, then followed her out. I glanced at the card, but didn't have a pocket to put it in, so I held it while Armando prepared my chai, then I sat. Laying the card face up on the table top, I read it for the first time. It announced, rather pretensiously I thought, Bernard Gwynn, Ph.D, M.A., LLC. Below that, it had a cell phone number.

"Armando," I asked, "what do these people do?"

He explained that they owned a number of properties in the city, and clued me into the rumor that most of their money came from her side of the family. "But she's a cold one," he said. "She's the one wants to throw everybody out and build a new business complex in our place. Him, I just think he goes along."

I was turning something over in my mind. I would have loved to help Armando, but the thought of dealing intimately with Bernard Gwynn wasn't exactly lost on me, either. I had to admit I was very attracted to him. I wondered if the attraction was one-sided. My thoughts weren't exactly philanthropic as I dialed his number on a whim. When he answered, his now-familiar voice touched me in a place I secretly hoped his hands might.

"Hello? This is Bernard Gwynn."

I knew he wouldn't recognize my number, and I knew he'd be with his wife as well, so I chose my words carefully. "Mr. Gwynn, this is Tori. We just met at the coffee shop. I hope you don't mind me calling you so soon."

I waited.

"One minute," he said abruptly, then there was a silence. I hoped I hadn't put him in a bad spot. I imagined his wife saying, "Who is that, Bernie? Why are you looking like that?" and him replying, with his hand over the phone, "It's some nobody, dear. I'll brush her off." Instead, when he came back on the phone, his voice was warm and sensuous.

"Well, Tori, I was hoping you'd call. I just didn't dare hope it would be this soon." Then he sounded worried. "Is everything okay?"

I assured him everything was fine, and asked if he was okay to talk. He told me he was, and added, "In fact, I just got into my apartment. I'm only a few blocks from where you are. I can probably see the shop from here. Are you still there?"

I said I was, then brought up the subject of Armando's lease. "I wondered," I said cautiously, "if there was any way I could help. You know, maybe smooth things over between him and your wife, buy him a little time; whatever." That sounded lame and he didn't answer, so I tried again. "If he isn't too far in arears, maybe I could help out." When he still said nothing, I added, "I like him very much. You know, as a businessman."

Bernard cleared his throat. "Can I meet you out front?" he asked.

In less than five minutes a white Porsche pulled to the curb in front of my Miata. He got out and apologized for making me wait. "It's okay," I said, "I had chai, remember?" He opened the passenger door and waited while I slid into the seat. It was warm.

"Heated seats?" I asked when he got in, and he nodded, smiling at me. I joked, "You might not get me out of here."

He laughed aloud as he started the car and pulled away from the curb. "I might not want to," he said, then neither of us spoke while he drove the three blocks to his place. It was a high-rise with secured parking, and the guard at the gate triggered it up as soon as we rounded the corner, smiling politely as Bernard gunned the Porsche up the ramp. "I hope you don't mind me driving a little recklessly," he said, shifting gears as we tore into the corners and climbed ramp after ramp.

"I have a Mazda," I said. As if that meant anything to him! "I'm used to grinding gears."

He laughed and put a hand on my thigh. "I could think of so many ways to interpret that," he said, and squeezed me quickly, then took his hand away to downshift as we glided toward a parking spot on the top floor. Once there, he shut off the engine and turned to me.

"I'm not quite sure why you called me, Tori, but I hope you're not considering paying on the lease on the coffee shop. I'd hate to take your money, though you may have your friend's best interests at heart."

I assured him I didn't have money to give out. "I just wondered if I could find a way to convince you not to close him down," I said. I waited while he considered this, then added, "I hope I'm not speaking out of turn." I watched Bernard's face carefully, trying to assess what he might be thinking.

At last he spoke. "Tori, am I reading too much into this? I mean, I hope I'm hearing you right. Are you..." He hesitated, not sure how to put his thoughts into words, something I assumed didn't happen often to him. Finally, he asked, "Is this an offer of your ... services ... in exchange for leaving the coffee shop alone?"

I laughed. It sounded funny when he put it like that. It wasn't exactly what I was intending. Or was it? Looking into those eyes, it seemed like a very good idea. "Well, I'm not a whore..." I said, leaving the sentence dangling. He hurried to agree.

"No, no! I'm sure you're not," he said. He hesitated a moment, then said, "Perhaps we ought to discuss this inside."

His apartment was luxuriously decorated, as I had assumed it would be. The only thing that surprised me was the large painting of a young girl that hung over the sofa. She was nude, and very provocatively posed. He noticed me staring at it, and stated, "It's a fetish, I'm afraid. Oh," he hurried to add, "I don't do anything about it. I keep that on the wall mainly to make my wife nervous." Then he laughed.

"Well, I may be a little old for you, then."

I had no more than spoken the words. He moved to me and smoothly slipped an arm around my waist. As he pulled me to him, he reached up and slid the knit cap from my head. It fell to the floor behind me as his lips found mine, and we kissed, a long, seductive kiss. I had no doubt about what he had in mind, and I was completely into it, but I pushed him away as his hands went under my jacket to my waist.

"First, let's talk about your plans for that block," I insisted. Perhaps I was trying to convince myself that I had more of an agenda than I actually had, but he took notice and studied my face, appraising me as he would a competitor. I had no doubt he noticed that my face was flushed with desire, or that my breathing was irregular and heavy. So much for having a poker face!

"Tori, it's obvious that you're no whore," he said, then rolled his eyes upward comically. "Hell, Armando couldn't afford you if you were! So what's your interest in that place?"

Ugh! Negotiations. I was never much good at them, due to my submissive personality. I knew I was outclassed there, but I did have some bargaining power. I turned and walked to the breakfast bar, pulling off my jacket as I did. I knew he would be watching me. I dropped the jacket on the floor and turned, feeling his eyes shift from my ass to my chest. I leaned back with my elbows on the bar and waited for his eyes to meet mine.

"I like the place, Bernard. I like Armando. I like having someone know my name when I walk into a place."

He snorted. "Hell, I doubt you have much of a problem there, Tori."

His eyes kept drifting back to my nipples, which were making stark impressions upon the knitted fabric of my top, and to my bare tummy. Those crunches were worth it, I thought, as he walked over to me. As expected, his hands went to my waist again, and he exhaled softly as he ran them around to my back, pulling me close. "So what are you offering?" he asked.

I pushed him away for the second time. "I'm not," I said, with what I hoped was a sense of finality. "Honestly, I'm not sure what I was doing when I called you, Bernard. I found you attractive. Armando had a problem. It seemed..."

I leaned over and picked up my jacket. "This was probably stupid," I said, and headed for the door. As I reached it, it clicked. I turned, angrily staring at him. He was holding a remote, and his expression was hard to read. "What? Are you going to kidnap me?" I asked, my voice almost a shout. "Refuse to let me leave until I fuck you?"

"No, of course not," he said smoothly, then walked toward me. I stiffened, but his expression didn't seem violent or calculating. His eyes were soft, almost pleading. "I reconsidered," he said softly. "Tori, I have to tell you. That place doesn't mean anything to me or Ingrid. It's just numbers, a project to make even more money."

I waited, my breathing on hold.

"We don't have to do anything with it except collect rent. It's paid for. I can tell Ingrid that there are circumstances that will make it more trouble than it's worth to rebuild." He took my hands in his. "I'm not lying. I honestly didn't consider the impact on anyone else. On you," he added. "Do you want me to draw up a document stating we won't be tearing anything down?"

As his lips approached mine, I had already decided that wouldn't be necessary. Bernard's eyes didn't lie, and his lips sealed the deal far better than any handshake or signed papers. I melted into his kiss, not even aware that I'd dropped my jacket on the floor again, or that he'd dropped the remote.

************************************************

Armando was ecstatic when he heard the news, but I don't think he ever figured out how it came about. As for me, I don't go there anymore. One negotiation with Bernard was enough. The man was terrible in the sack! Besides, Ingrid and he have since divorced, and I'm not up for going to bed with her.