Money Makes the World Go Around #2
Part 2 of 2: She unfastened the pin and the fabric peeled down, exposing my breasts.
Click below to read the start of his story…
Recap: The female narrator - a real estate agent - has been showing a glamorous couple around some penthouse properties. She unintentionally views them having sex.
Part Two:
Tabatha was showering when I’d collected Sol after the agreed twenty minutes
I had steered him swiftly around penthouse west, a virtual replica of east. He seemed impressed. As casually as possible, I’d mentioned that both apartments were for sale. Sol, thinking aloud, hinted that his brother might fancy penthouse west “for a London base.” He turned and looked at me with a half-smile.
“And you, Rosalind — you are paid a nice percentage for every deal, yes?”
“Of course.” Although his comment had rattled me, I did my best to stay cool. He was a smart one alright. As I locked up, he insisted that I come back to their apartment for a celebration drink.
Back in the east penthouse, Tabatha reappeared, in a skimpy, white silk robe. We sat at the bar sharing their complimentary bottle of Bollinger. Sol, who didn’t drink, vanished.
Making small talk, Tabitha dropped in vital scraps of information. I learned that Sol’s brother was something in the Greek government.
Sol himself had been sent to London to fix up some major investments. At every opportunity, I returned the conversation to the penthouses.
“Penthouse west does get more of the sunset. On the other hand, the sun rises sooner in here, if you’re an early bird?”
“Is that so, darling?”
I had the feeling Tabatha wasn’t really listening. Her eyes were fixed on the rather special platinum brooch that pinned my black Hermès dress at the left shoulder. I was bra-less and I felt sure she had noticed.
“Darling — what a lovely piece! May I?”
Her fingertip moved gently upon the small, tree-shaped brooch. It was one of Amy’s best. On closer inspection it depicted a girl seen from behind, her slender arms tied at the wrist below a canopy of hair that tumbled down her back. Tabatha’s fingers remained on the clasp. I kept talking, feeling less in control with every second.
“My friend Amy made it. All her pieces are different. She lets me model them. Free advertising, she says.”
“Beautiful. So is this one for sale?”
Her fingernails traced my skin, on the way back to her champagne flute.
“Yes. I think it’s quite expensive though.”
“Then Sol will buy it for me.” Tabatha licked her lips, slowly, like everything else she did. “He likes expensive things.” Her eyes sparkled as she smiled.
I glanced around at the vintage designer furniture that uncle Stan bought by the truckload. These empty penthouses had always seemed cold and stark to me, but Tabatha’s presence was like a finishing touch, the shiny jewel such a setting needed. I felt dizzy, hot and decidedly not in charge.
“I’m sure you’re going to love it here,” I said, and drained my glass. “Do let me know if there’s anything I can do to help — you’ve got my number.”
Before I could move, Tabatha refilled my glass and dropped one hand onto my conveniently placed knee. Again I felt her nails on my bare skin.
“Please, I’m enjoying your company.”
I noticed Sol had returned and was laid out on a sofa across the room.
“I think he is fast asleep, darling. He naps like a… a big lion or something.”
I watched Tabatha watching me and felt my face burning. She leaned slightly forward and I saw the curve of her breasts shifting beneath the loose robe.