I developed this story from an idea I had some years ago.
I'm still a novice writer so once again all constructive comments are welcome.
I'm also British. I have used some British dialect. If you have not heard all the words before I think the meaning is obvious from the context. It also means the spelling is British as well. I was accused of not spell checking my previous story :-)
*****
I came out of the shower, feeling refreshed after a long day in the office and a journey on the very hot tube. London could be so hot and sticky in August. I dried my hair first with a towel and then the dryer. Though the plan had risks, these were no higher than I had faced before and the alternative was much worse. I appraised my body in the full-length mirror. Much depended on it, or to be specific for tonight, how one man saw it. I make my tits bounce then squeezed both hard. With some pride watched how they settled standing out, not drooping at all and still firm in their fullness. My discipline in exercise and careful eating had continued to pay off. Tracing my body with my hands starting from my tits then moving to the sides as my body narrowed at my waste and then over the hips. There had been a time when I thought my tits were too big for my five and a half foot height. It was not how far they projected but their other dimensions - easily filling a C cup and sometimes having to resort to a D.
Laughing now at my attempts to diet them away and ending up like I was a cancer patient or something. Life had bit me in the backside since, and taught me that my titties were items to be used to my advantage. Right now, having dug myself into a big hole, my tits might at a minimum buy me some time, and perhaps more. I very much hoped so or this problem could land me in the Accident & Emergency unit down the road. Tonight might just mean a little flaunting and flirting, maybe a blowjob or worse case a good fucking might buy that time. It was a while since I had a good fuck in any case. I was horny and thinking about a good fuck made me even more so. Dave I guessed as the sort who might be a little rough when fucking, not necessarily considerate, but the big positive was that I did not judge him the type to be deliberately sadistic or cruel. Lets hope I was right about him!
Deciding how to dress for Dave was difficult as my sole contact with the man had been over the apartment I was renting from him. Sure, I had flirted a bit to ensure it was me and not that other bitch he rented to, but still we had not really shared that much personal information. I sensed he was street-wise and no one's fool. He sounded local to this part of London. He had gone on to make something of his life. I remember him saying that he now owned six apartments. He was maybe 30 or 35, no wedding ring or indication of a partner. He looked fit. Thinking about the little I knew I decided he was not one who would cream his pants when presented with fishnets, micro skirts , scooped halter tops and highest heels. For what I wanted from Dave I decided my sluttish items could seriously backfire. Deciding to go the opposite extreme I chose country girl style from my wardrobe. A simple white lowish cut bra and shirt that when not buttoned up too far showed off the tops of my tits nicely and simple white panties. Then hip hugging jeans, and sandals with modest heels. That should work well I thought. I dressed and applied minimum makeup and a small dab of the best perfume.
Looking in the mirror I buttoned my shirt up except for two buttons, no need to attract attention from the wrong men on the way there as I was taking the Tube. It was just after 7 in the evening I walked towards his house unbuttoning three buttons on my shirt as I approached. That was bound to get his interest, whilst hopefully appearing accidental.
It was a hot early evening and I had just stepped out of the shower when the doorbell rang. I was not expecting anyone to call and hurriedly finished drying myself and grabbed the nearest clothes. Rushing to the door still buttoning up my shirt.
Standing there was Eve, red hair shining in the sun, the most gorgeous looking woman I had seen in a very long time, maybe ever. Striking was that she had a shirt less buttoned up than mine showing the tops of her perfect, shapely breasts, and part of a white lacy bra. The site the more alluring by the oh so pale skin. I did not get many tenants visit me at home. What made her appearance even more of a surprise was the fact that Eve was overdue on her rent by almost two months. Most tenants were highly skilled at avoiding me when overdue and most definitely did not pay me home visits. I decided to play innocent, to start with at least.
"Eve, hi, how're you? Is there a problem with the flat? Come on in."
I saw that she looked slightly flustered, a bit of extra colour in the cheeks that were normally so pale and tension in her eyes.
Eve looked from side to side then straight at me with her beautiful big green eyes, unspoilt by the ridiculous make up so many of the women of her age wore. She said quietly, "The flat's really nice and all is working, I came about the rent. I seem to have caught you at a bad time I can come back some other time."
The last thing I wanted to do was let her go now and have to chase her later. It was not that uncommon for tenants to be a week or two late with their rent in the part of London my properties were, but at close to two months this was around the time I stopped the gentle reminder texts and letters and started to explain the seriousness of their situation and the legal process I would undertake if they did not pay up.
"Come on in, Eve, take the second door on the right."
I opening the door wide for her to pass and spent a few seconds admiring the tight waste, shapely hips and nicely formed derriere, outlined by tightly fitting hip hugging, expensive looking jeans as I directed her into the sitting room. Following her in I gestured for her to sit down in the nearest chair. She declined the offer of a drink and was looking increasingly uncomfortable.
I had built my little empire of six apartments to rent based on one inherited house left to me by an uncle and a lot of hard work. He was the only family member that had shown me any interest or kindness, and the only one that had any money to speak of. I did not know my father and lost touch with my mother in my early teens. My uncle died when I was 22 and had left me a hand written letter with good advice I had tried to follow. I was completely self-taught regarding the managing, decorating, repairs, vetting and all other aspects of this business. Along the way I had learned a number of hard lessons for this was not one of the better areas of the big city. I had rubbed shoulders, and other parts, with the good, the bad, and the seriously criminal.
My experience was telling me that Eve was not one of those where a genuine crisis had stopped them from paying their rent. She was one that had chosen to put some other spending first and got herself into the mess. I occasionally had sympathy for those in genuine crisis and would give them time to come up with the rent. As for the rest, I was not about to subsidise a decision to spend their rent money on other things - I had a business to run. Plus if you became known as an easy touch in this part of London you became an attraction for other undesirables.
I was only mildly interested in the lie she was about to spin as to why she was behind with the rent. It did seem a great shame that I might have to lose such a drop dead gorgeous tenant who until now had caused me no problems. One of the tricks I learned some while ago was that you often gained more of the truth through the power of silence making the other person talk rather than let them simply respond to what you said.
Eve looked around the room nervously as I waited for her to speak. Then looking me up and down and finally focusing on my face, said quietly, "I don't have the rent I owe and am not going to have it this month end. Please don't throw me out on the street. I will get the money next month, I swear, just give me another two weeks."
Yep, as I thought, I gave her some grudging respect for not telling me it was all because her Gran/Mum/sister had died/ had cancer, which were amongst the most common stories told to me by those who had blown their rent money.
"Tell me Eve, have you been sick? Are you still employed at the same warehouse?"
"No, I have not been sick, and yes I am still employed in the same place. I just had some sudden bills, I needed my car fixed and I must have that for work. I have to dress to impress on the directors' floor. They expect you to dress up so as to impress any guests."
