Whitechapel - Sex Stories

Whitechapel

... she looked around for a man who must be paid to mop the floor and wipe every window seconds after anyone came in or out. She didn't see him, but she was still confident such a person must exist. A fidgety clerk answered her and when she told him why she was here he seemed to swallow his tongue. Rose tensed. She knew what was coming even before the clerk opened his mouth to say, "Mr. Rees wants to speak with you." Rose must have glowered because the clerk flinched "I can't say why," he added, with the tone of an apology. "But he made very certain I knew that if you came in I was to send you straight to him. I'm very sorry..." And he was, Rose knew. So rather than vent her anger she let him show her up the stairs to the office she was already too familiar with, where Rees had, for all she knew, been waiting for her all day. He was a man hovering in that unidentifiable range of not yet being old but no longer being young. He was well dressed but gave Rose the impression, as always, of a knot that had been drawn entirely too tight. She thought that he might be looking a little better than the last time she'd seen him, a little less tired and a little more healthy. This annoyed her. She wanted him to look a complete wreck, if he could manage it. It would be the decent thing. He closed the door and Rose sat. She was holding her bag in her lap but realized it made her look nervous and small, so she put it on the floor, then made a point of holding her head up. Rees offered her tea. ...

... "No thank you. I'm here for business. I'd like if in the future your people could handle me, like any other customer." "You're not any other customer.“ He sat not at his desk but in the chair beside hers. Even as he said it he nodded at her purse and held out his hand like a petty landlord. She produced a handful of coins tied in a handkerchief. It was a miserably small sum, she knew, but she refused to blush when handing it over. Rees counted it into his palm and then deposited them in a till under his desk. Rose looked at him expectantly. "I would feel better if you at least recorded the sum." "I record every payment on every debt owed me by any person in the entire city, except you," Rees said. "Yours I always remember. Would you like to know it? I can recite it to the last digit." He smoothed his trousers with his hands. "I'd like to apologize for last time." "I'm sure you would, but I'm only here to make a payment. I'll show myself--" "I was thinking," Rees said, and here he loosened his necktie, with his left hand even though he was right-handed, a gesture she knew so well she could have replicated it perfectly if she ever wore such a thing herself. "You were right what you said. I didn't take enough care. Maybe you'd be more inclined to the bargain I suggested if we got married first." He looked at her with a perfectly level, unflinching gaze, one she suspected he'd practiced in a mirror. Many different responses warred for prominence in Rose's mind, among them walking ...