Warm Reunions [Closed] - Printable Version
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RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 04-01-2017
Bree flushed darker red. She hadn't even needed to say anything; he figured it out anyway. Goddamnit. Why did she even care? They were just food allergies. But he knew why, she knew he knew why. That was the embarrassing part. Her heart leapt in her chest at the offer, however, eyes widening. She couldn't believe it. Just like that? She wouldn't be getting it back, couldn't afford to buy it. It might be in terrible condition, but this implied he still had it, knew where it was.
The idea that it could be a trap barely even flitted across her mind, briefly considered and disregarded as ridiculous. If he wanted to do something to her, he had absolutely no need to take her upstairs first. She wasn't some beastly thing that needed to be tricked, trapped. He could just grab her, with that strength of his, and she'd be done for.
She nodded after barely a few seconds' consideration. She had to see it. Would it look the same, or different? Had he had it rebound? Had it been cared for? Disregarded, left in a corner? Was it ash? Torn apart, turned into an art piece?
She didn't know. Given the opportunity to know, she found she absolutely had to.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 04-02-2017
How eager she was.
He was being nice, he reminded himself, to reward her for cute behavior. And also for the sake of being nice. As he so often was.
Jean hummed the Ode to Joy as he walked toward the stairs, matching each step with his cane. Stairs could be irritating, but his leg wasn't bothering him as terribly as it sometimes did. Even as much as it had been earlier. He pulled his keys out of his pocket once they were upstairs until he found the one for his office, and opened the door with no fanfare whatsoever, assuming she'd be following along.
His office was far tidier than the storefront, though books lined the shelves on the walls to the right and left. His desk was to the right, an enormous piece of furniture that looked as if the room must have been built around it to have fit it. Old and well-cared for, with an inkwell built directly into it. There was a worn leather chair behind it, smaller chairs near the wall as a precaution for guests. Little potted plants dotted the shelves, ferns and vines and violets and succulents. Photos and daguerreotypes and impossibly old little statues. The books visible up here were often more esoteric, sometimes dangerous, bound in skin and gold and horrors. Grimoires and forbidden knowledge and secret diaries.
The far wall was mostly windows to the backyard and garden below. There was a book sitting on a window seat, a violin discarded on another.
The safe was to the left, built into the wall and taller than he was. The lock was intricate, too many moving pieces and none of them marked in anything but geometric shapes, and he unlocked it faster than most people could catch the trick. The entire wall panel opened, revealing the thick metal behind the wood.
Cash on the top shelves. Gold at the bottom. Miscellany in between, doubloons and emeralds and threadbare stuffed animals and dolls with the paint worn off their faces. He located a box full of books, and pulled it out, holding it to be visible.
"One of these, yes?"
He was being nice, he reminded himself, to reward her for cute behavior. And also for the sake of being nice. As he so often was.
Jean hummed the Ode to Joy as he walked toward the stairs, matching each step with his cane. Stairs could be irritating, but his leg wasn't bothering him as terribly as it sometimes did. Even as much as it had been earlier. He pulled his keys out of his pocket once they were upstairs until he found the one for his office, and opened the door with no fanfare whatsoever, assuming she'd be following along.
His office was far tidier than the storefront, though books lined the shelves on the walls to the right and left. His desk was to the right, an enormous piece of furniture that looked as if the room must have been built around it to have fit it. Old and well-cared for, with an inkwell built directly into it. There was a worn leather chair behind it, smaller chairs near the wall as a precaution for guests. Little potted plants dotted the shelves, ferns and vines and violets and succulents. Photos and daguerreotypes and impossibly old little statues. The books visible up here were often more esoteric, sometimes dangerous, bound in skin and gold and horrors. Grimoires and forbidden knowledge and secret diaries.
The far wall was mostly windows to the backyard and garden below. There was a book sitting on a window seat, a violin discarded on another.
The safe was to the left, built into the wall and taller than he was. The lock was intricate, too many moving pieces and none of them marked in anything but geometric shapes, and he unlocked it faster than most people could catch the trick. The entire wall panel opened, revealing the thick metal behind the wood.
Cash on the top shelves. Gold at the bottom. Miscellany in between, doubloons and emeralds and threadbare stuffed animals and dolls with the paint worn off their faces. He located a box full of books, and pulled it out, holding it to be visible.
"One of these, yes?"
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 04-02-2017
She followed him upstairs, a tense sort of hopeful nerves tight in her chest, leaving her no time for fear or anxiety. Anticipation, eagerness. Those were the words. His upstairs was grander, and his office was, she sincerely hoped, grandest. If it got grander than this, she was going to be even more ill-prepared for it. The room was almost ludicrously fancy, with beautiful ancient wood furniture and the most amazing looking books on the most amazing looking shelves. A beautiful leather chair that made her dream of sitting in it--and other things she quickly pushed out of her mind. There was even a violin in the corner, filling her mind with mental images she absolutely did not need but could not force out, and kind of didn't even want to force out. They were very aesthetically pleasing. They belonged in an idle fantasy, and that sort of fantasy would be much nicer than the ones she normally had about him.
Perhaps more embarrassing, in terms of the genuinity with which they could be enjoyed, but less confusing, in general.
Her eyes fell on the safe late, after he had stepped towards it. It was very tall and very ludicrous and, if she had to guess, probably like, the most secure safe in the entire country. Not because it necessarily looked like the most secure safe, but because it just fit with what she knew thus far.
When he opened it, her eyes damn near popped out of her head. Her heart almost burst from her chest. Her legs felt weak.
Money. So much money. Gold, solid gold fucking bars, coins and jewelry and gems. And... little things, dolls and stuffed animals and a random sort of assortment that didn't at all match the wealth inside.
She managed--with difficulty--to tear her eyes from the contents of the safe to look at the box he had pulled out.
There, sitting on the very top.
Cover a worn, sky blue, worn illustrations of classic story scenes. A man in armor fighting a dragon, a beanstalk, a clever fox. It looked completely the same, every inch as worn and loved as she remembered. Clean, no dust on it, probably because things in safes didn't get dusty. It was as if it had been frozen in time for four years.
She reached out, awed, to run the lightest finger tip over the cover.
"It's the exact same," she murmured, heart thudding with the bittersweet pang of nostalgia. God. She missed it. She had missed it so much, and every time she'd missed it, her heart had burned and bled. She gave it a sad little smile. She had no idea why it was in a safe full of literal treasure, why he had a box of books, most as worn and well-loved looking as hers, in a safe full of gold bars and more cash than she would ever see again in her life.
But that implied it was a comparable treasure.
And she didn't understand how that could be, or why, but it brought a faint little smile to her lips.
At least someone else could see what it was worth.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 04-05-2017
What confused desire it was, making her so sweet so suddenly. It was no love of books that had her tasting that way. What might she taste like if he played for her?
Interesting. He made a note of it for the moment, to be retained or discarded based on whatever the rest of this interaction would be. If she stayed long enough this time to be played with, if she came back. He would have assumed not, until now.
Shock, envy, a bit peppery. Black peppercorns, nothing too interesting. Probably more money than she'd ever seen in her life. Under the circumstances, it wasn't as fun as it could have been. He might have delighted in taunting her with it if she were particularly rude, but usually he preferred that kind of thing with wealthier folk than she. The sorts of unfortunate, obnoxious creatures that thought themselves somewhere higher on the food chain than they really were. Those were the fun ones, oh yes. Trash with delusions of grandeur.
… they would be fun. If he still did that kind of thing. But he was focusing on kinder feelings now. Giving nice feelings to nice people.
Not pulling the book out of her reach before she could touch it.
Because nice.
She really was awestruck. It was reminiscent of a religious experience. Whipped cream, a sort of intangible fluff of an experience. Lots of it, and nice in its own way, even if it wasn't the heartiest fare. It took a much more intense spiritual fervor to satisfy him, weeping and speaking in tongues. But she was happy, at least, a bittersweet happiness that left him feeling at least quite self-satisfied.
"Now you know," he said when she seemed to be done, sliding the box back into its place on the shelf within the safe. He shut the door and locked it again, and finally turned his attention back to her. "Will that be all?" he asked. "Or did you truly want those books for your library?"
Interesting. He made a note of it for the moment, to be retained or discarded based on whatever the rest of this interaction would be. If she stayed long enough this time to be played with, if she came back. He would have assumed not, until now.
Shock, envy, a bit peppery. Black peppercorns, nothing too interesting. Probably more money than she'd ever seen in her life. Under the circumstances, it wasn't as fun as it could have been. He might have delighted in taunting her with it if she were particularly rude, but usually he preferred that kind of thing with wealthier folk than she. The sorts of unfortunate, obnoxious creatures that thought themselves somewhere higher on the food chain than they really were. Those were the fun ones, oh yes. Trash with delusions of grandeur.
… they would be fun. If he still did that kind of thing. But he was focusing on kinder feelings now. Giving nice feelings to nice people.
Not pulling the book out of her reach before she could touch it.
Because nice.
She really was awestruck. It was reminiscent of a religious experience. Whipped cream, a sort of intangible fluff of an experience. Lots of it, and nice in its own way, even if it wasn't the heartiest fare. It took a much more intense spiritual fervor to satisfy him, weeping and speaking in tongues. But she was happy, at least, a bittersweet happiness that left him feeling at least quite self-satisfied.
"Now you know," he said when she seemed to be done, sliding the box back into its place on the shelf within the safe. He shut the door and locked it again, and finally turned his attention back to her. "Will that be all?" he asked. "Or did you truly want those books for your library?"
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 04-05-2017
Her chest ached when he took the box away, bled when the safe door closed shut. It had been so good to see, but now that it was gone again, she was feeling the loss as keenly as if she'd just given it up. Her fingers twitched to feel the pages. How had the story about the baker gone? She knew, she knew that she knew, but she wanted to find out again. It had still been worth it.
It still hurt.
"Thank you," she managed, well aware he hadn't needed to do that. Now that it seemed he had, in fact, remembered her, she was sort of aware that she'd been kind of an asshole. He'd been a bigger one four years ago, but... Well, she was settling a bit more firmly on the "he'd been very drunk" theory. It was about the only thing that made sense. Not like that made it better, because 'drunkenly tormenting a teenage girl' isn't a better look than doing it stone cold sober, but it at least explained some things. And confused a lot of others.
"Oh, um..." She blinked a few times, then straightened herself. She forced the shift back into Bridget Corey: intern and aspiring librarian. It was a much easier, much more professional role to fill than Bree: feeling lots of feelings, enjoying few of them. "Yes, of course. I wasn't lying; I'm sure the library can make use of many of your books." And she was thinking maybe that Hobbit would be leaving with her after all. "More than I can afford at one time, I'm certain." They'd have to narrow it down. She wasn't actually authorized to use library funds; these sorts of things were 'donations' which was why she normally read and enjoyed them first.
She gave a last glance around the room, fixing it into her memory without realizing that's what she was doing. She'd never have a room like this, but maybe one day if she worked hard, she could mimic it with the sorts of things you could afford on a librarian's salary.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 04-05-2017
It hurt her again to say goodbye to it, such raw agony. Did he remember taking it from her? Was it a familiar taste? He thought he might remember, a little, but he might have been remembering someone else. Multiple someones. So many women kneeling on his floors, they all bled together into a vague recollection of hurt.
He cocked his head to the side, resting his weight on his cane as he watched her. "I will accept cash, if you insist – but, as you say, it will be more than you can afford. As you have seen, it is not as if I have a great need for such things."
Careful, careful, too easy to push too hard when she had so many tender spots. Some of which, it would seem, he had left. Making it even more vital that he be careful.
"My preference, if you are willing, is to make a trade – not a physical trade, but, ah. An exchange of favors? Little things, which I imagine will mean little to you, but which would please me enormously." With some, he liked asking for an offer, knowing how quickly they'd leap to offer themselves. This was not one of those. "Having seen already the books you desire, and knowing they will be of some benefit to children – it is a small favor, indeed, that I would ask of you. May I make you an offer? Or should I not bother with such things, as you would prefer to give me money?"
He cocked his head to the side, resting his weight on his cane as he watched her. "I will accept cash, if you insist – but, as you say, it will be more than you can afford. As you have seen, it is not as if I have a great need for such things."
Careful, careful, too easy to push too hard when she had so many tender spots. Some of which, it would seem, he had left. Making it even more vital that he be careful.
"My preference, if you are willing, is to make a trade – not a physical trade, but, ah. An exchange of favors? Little things, which I imagine will mean little to you, but which would please me enormously." With some, he liked asking for an offer, knowing how quickly they'd leap to offer themselves. This was not one of those. "Having seen already the books you desire, and knowing they will be of some benefit to children – it is a small favor, indeed, that I would ask of you. May I make you an offer? Or should I not bother with such things, as you would prefer to give me money?"
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 04-05-2017
Suspicion, instantly. She tried not to let the raw accusation of 'yeah, okay, sure buddy,' show on her face, but did allow the raising of a single eyebrow. "What sort of a trade?" she asked cautiously. Not rudely (okay maybe rudely, her business voice was easily taken as rude, it wasn't her fault), just... reasonably hesitant. "Word of mouth, that sort of thing?" That's how she'd found out about his newly opened shop, and a librarian giving recommendations could be useful. She was hesitant about the idea of sending people here, though. Unless she just straight up didn't like them, which she was pretty sure is how she found out about it the first time, four years ago.
"You can certainly ask," she decided; there could be no harm in hearing him out, and he had just done her a favor. Also he was letting her still stand in his very nice office, which she appreciated. "If I'm unwilling to do it, we can always switch back to the money you have absolutely no use for, n'est-ce pas?"
Okay that had come across as a bit bitchier than she'd intended. She'd meant it to be a mildly teasing reference, but it came across closer to mockery than she was comfortable with. Damnit, this is why she kept things professional. She was terrible at being a person, in general.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 04-05-2017
"Not quite, no." He grinned at how quickly she had validated his concerns. How easily she might turn on him! Tricky, tricky. He would need to be cautious.
Such a sharp little tongue she had, by contrast, that she cut herself with it. Here he was choosing his every word with care, and she stood there sounding for all the world like the rudest possible sort of bitch. The sharp anxiety of regret hitting her almost immediately, none of the anger he might associate with trying to draw blood.
She was just... awful at this. What an interesting project it would be, making her into something better.
"Here is my offer, then. I would like first for you to sit by the window – there, where the sun hits it." A nice, warm spot with a pretty view. "Then I would like for you to close your eyes. I will do nothing objectionable while you cannot see me. In fact, I will not move from this spot the entire time, and so you will have nothing to fear. Then, I will ask you to think of three things, in order. It is possible that you will find those things to be difficult, if your imagination is lacking, but I prefer you not voice those objections. You also need not tell me what it is you are thinking of, and so your mind will remain entirely private and your own. Once you have done this simple thing – sat, and in silence had three little thoughts – I will gladly give you six of the books downstairs, of your choosing."
He wouldn't give her any other limitations. This was an experiment, and it wouldn't be her fault if it failed, really. He was just curious about the results. He had a hunch that he knew how it would go, but she had the potential to surprise him.
"Will you accept these terms?" he asked, offering his hand.
Such a sharp little tongue she had, by contrast, that she cut herself with it. Here he was choosing his every word with care, and she stood there sounding for all the world like the rudest possible sort of bitch. The sharp anxiety of regret hitting her almost immediately, none of the anger he might associate with trying to draw blood.
She was just... awful at this. What an interesting project it would be, making her into something better.
"Here is my offer, then. I would like first for you to sit by the window – there, where the sun hits it." A nice, warm spot with a pretty view. "Then I would like for you to close your eyes. I will do nothing objectionable while you cannot see me. In fact, I will not move from this spot the entire time, and so you will have nothing to fear. Then, I will ask you to think of three things, in order. It is possible that you will find those things to be difficult, if your imagination is lacking, but I prefer you not voice those objections. You also need not tell me what it is you are thinking of, and so your mind will remain entirely private and your own. Once you have done this simple thing – sat, and in silence had three little thoughts – I will gladly give you six of the books downstairs, of your choosing."
He wouldn't give her any other limitations. This was an experiment, and it wouldn't be her fault if it failed, really. He was just curious about the results. He had a hunch that he knew how it would go, but she had the potential to surprise him.
"Will you accept these terms?" he asked, offering his hand.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 04-05-2017
She felt a bit of relief when he didn't turn cruel at her little misfire of social interaction. Though he might be, inside, and just not showing it. It was hard to tell, honestly. God. Sometimes she wondered if that curse hadn't been less because her mom was a bitch and more because that fuckin' witch had been able to tell she was the sort that shouldn't have a functioning tongue at all, let alone 24 hours a day. His request, however, was super goddamn weird and therefore extremely suspect. Like, okay, clearly he did weird shit and got off on it in unexpected ways, but what the fuck.
"That's..." she searched for a nicer word for 'fucking weird.' "...Unusual. Why? Why is this something you want?" And also, will any of these questions be uncomfortably sexual and/or involve anal sex in some way, because once bitten twice shy. But she knew herself just well enough to know she couldn't voice that sort of a question without sounding extremely accusatory and rude.
She didn't cross her arms, because she didn't want to seem like she was rejecting it outright. She wasn't. She was just... delicately requesting further information before making her decision.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 04-05-2017
Jean only shrugged. "I think it would be interesting. The deal is an exchange of goods for a service, mademoiselle bas-bleu. If you require more information, you would need to offer me something worth that information. As it is, I have told you everything you need in order to make an informed decision – and I may still rescind the offer."
He tilted his head to the side. "I will not be deriving any kind of sexual gratification from this, if that is your concern," he said, watching her intently. "I am more than capable of keeping my cock under control when confronted with the sight of a woman sitting and thinking, as pretty a picture as I am sure you will be. If you can offer me something I might find more interesting, I would be happy to hear it. However, this was as simple and unobjectionable a task as I could think of, as suits the nobility of your purpose."
"If you have some kind of specific problem, you may voice it. Otherwise, you may of course say no, and give me the money that you have no better use for, n'est-ce pas?"
Of course she would have a better use for it. Anyone would. What a waste it would be to give it to him, when he did not need it, when she could spend it on food or clothes or books at a store that did not accept tears as currency.
He tilted his head to the side. "I will not be deriving any kind of sexual gratification from this, if that is your concern," he said, watching her intently. "I am more than capable of keeping my cock under control when confronted with the sight of a woman sitting and thinking, as pretty a picture as I am sure you will be. If you can offer me something I might find more interesting, I would be happy to hear it. However, this was as simple and unobjectionable a task as I could think of, as suits the nobility of your purpose."
"If you have some kind of specific problem, you may voice it. Otherwise, you may of course say no, and give me the money that you have no better use for, n'est-ce pas?"
Of course she would have a better use for it. Anyone would. What a waste it would be to give it to him, when he did not need it, when she could spend it on food or clothes or books at a store that did not accept tears as currency.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 04-05-2017
Bas-bleu? She wasn't even wearing--wait. Christ. How old was this guy? Well, older than that, probably. Although figuring out what the hell he meant wasn't actually helping her figure out whether or not he was insulting her. Fortunately, he kept talking, which painted a much clearer picture.
Her face reddened, embarrassment and indignation both. It was just a question, fuck! He didn't have to get all... ugh. Asshole. "I didn't--that's not--" She forced her eyes closed and took a breath. Professional Bridget Corey. Even if he kept poking her with that "haha you're poor" stick.
Professional.
"Alright," she said, a little more snappishly than was probably professional. She didn't want to even try to think of what he might find more interesting. She had no goddamn idea his gauge for what was and was not interesting. He liked books and humiliating women. She wasn't going to give him any more books and he could figure out humiliation just fine on his fuckin' own.
She reached out and shook his hand. His leather gloved hand. His hand was much larger than hers, because he was much larger than her. The glove had that certain texture of leather, smooth and rough at the same time with a slight tendency to cling to skin.
Christ, she didn't even need to be sitting down and closing her eyes to be thinking about inappropriate shit. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black. She released his hand as quickly as she was able, hoping that he asked her to think about something like kittens frolicking in a field of daisies.
She walked to the spot he had indicated. It was a nice little spot, a cozy little window seat that overlooked... his yard, it seemed. The window was framed with roses outside. She sort of wanted to tuck her feet up onto the cushions, but she was wearing shoes, and that seemed so rude even she was aware of it. So she just sort of sat, feet together and hands on her lap. She paused, for a moment, then closed her eyes.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 04-06-2017
It was so easy to do that, get her all flush with indignation at the slightest provocation. How could anyone possibly resist?
My, but she took a sweeter turn when she took his hand. He squeezed a little, just to emphasize the size of his hand and the leather he wore; she pulled away so quickly he might as well have burned her.
Oh, what an interesting experiment this would be.
He had said that he would remain where he was, and he was true to his word as she made herself comfortable. He waited just long enough to make her prickle with anticipation. He loved anticipation. Not quite anxiety, not quite hope, something all its own. He carefully pitched his voice so that it would carry while still being quiet, a low sound.
"First," he said, "I would like for you to think about your favorite part of your first visit here. Or perhaps 'least bad' would be more precise?"
It didn't matter. She'd object to it on principle if he let her. But this wasn't a conversation; she was thinking. Her mind would naturally gravitate toward one thing or another, though she might shy from it, try to scold herself for it. He was sure that there would be something. He would give them plausible deniability with least bad, but they would both know the truth, even if she wouldn't want to admit it.
He waited until he'd had the desired effect before continuing. "Second: I would like you to imagine how it could have been better." A little pause. "Or even just good at all."
He waited, again, to see if she would sweeten the way he thought she would, if she'd go hot with fury at herself at having thought it at all.
"Third, and finally: a fantasy you wish you did not have. A desire, a dream. See if you can create it in your mind, this thing you should know better than to want, and see if you can make it go away."
"And now you are done," he announced cheerfully.
My, but she took a sweeter turn when she took his hand. He squeezed a little, just to emphasize the size of his hand and the leather he wore; she pulled away so quickly he might as well have burned her.
Oh, what an interesting experiment this would be.
He had said that he would remain where he was, and he was true to his word as she made herself comfortable. He waited just long enough to make her prickle with anticipation. He loved anticipation. Not quite anxiety, not quite hope, something all its own. He carefully pitched his voice so that it would carry while still being quiet, a low sound.
"First," he said, "I would like for you to think about your favorite part of your first visit here. Or perhaps 'least bad' would be more precise?"
It didn't matter. She'd object to it on principle if he let her. But this wasn't a conversation; she was thinking. Her mind would naturally gravitate toward one thing or another, though she might shy from it, try to scold herself for it. He was sure that there would be something. He would give them plausible deniability with least bad, but they would both know the truth, even if she wouldn't want to admit it.
He waited until he'd had the desired effect before continuing. "Second: I would like you to imagine how it could have been better." A little pause. "Or even just good at all."
He waited, again, to see if she would sweeten the way he thought she would, if she'd go hot with fury at herself at having thought it at all.
"Third, and finally: a fantasy you wish you did not have. A desire, a dream. See if you can create it in your mind, this thing you should know better than to want, and see if you can make it go away."
"And now you are done," he announced cheerfully.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 04-06-2017
He waited long enough to begin speaking that she was a bit startled when he did. Was his voice different? Or was it just the effect of keeping her eyes closed? She wanted to open them, but kept them clenched tightly shut. Her 'favorite' part of coming here? Urgh. None of it had been good. Least bad, then. Her mind flashed first to the moment he'd tilted her chin up with his cane. But he'd asked for 'least bad,' not most memorable, which was why--she was fairly sure--that particular instant had come to mind.
Well, the money, obviously... Being able to leave $50,000 richer. Although, she found herself thinking about the little bag of shiny things, gold coins and jewelry. She hadn't given it a proper look until she'd gotten home. Those things had been worth much more than $20,000, because she'd been very, very careful with them. But there was one thing, a ring, she'd been unable to part with yet. She had only that and a few gold coins left. The coins, because she hadn't needed to sell them yet. The ring, because it was too beautiful to sell.
A gold band, a beautiful opal. Two smaller rubies on either side, four tiny diamonds. She'd never even worn it out, though she always wanted to, because it was just such a grand thing. She supposed, of all the things she'd gotten that day, that was her favorite. Hopefully, that worked for him.
Now, how it could have been better... What, the ring? No, the visit, obviously. Well. He could have been nicer about the whole thing. But that wasn't where her mind went. It flitted, stubbornly, back to the cane. She was imagining gloved hands now, probably because she'd just touched them, gripping her chin and angling it painfully upwards instead.
That was almost certainly irrelevant to the question at hand.
He could have been nicer. Focus on that, instead. How differently could it have gone if he'd not been drunk, if he'd had the attitude she'd seen today? "How may I be of service?" Yes, tipping her head back like that, asking her what she needed, suggesting how he could help. Er, wait, no, why was he still touching her with gloves in this scenario. She needed to get off the damn gloves.
Having sympathy, instead of disdain, maybe that. "Ah, ma jeune fille faible, how hard you've worked for so little. Let me help."
Somehow this was more embarrassing than the bit with the gloves. But if he'd offered help, which he could so clearly afford, instead of torturing her for a relatively small piece of his obvious fortune... He could have been nice. She could have come back, or written him those letters he'd taunted her about, but genuinely. He could have been pleased to see her earn 4.0 after 4.0, semester after semester, his investment paying off.
Now she was just making herself goddamn sad. Enough of this.
Next. A fantasy she wish she didn't have. Well there was that entire thing with the fucking gloves right there. Christ. But her mind did even worse, deciding to play back a few of her choice uncomfortable dream/nightmares in high definition. How about the one where he'd taken his cane to her a bit more directly? That one had been fucked, and then she'd woken up and fingered herself stupid while the sensation was still sharp in her mind. Although the gloves seemed to be haunting her, because she was now imagining the same scene, but with his gloved hands instead of the cane, bare ass over his knee. Reading French poetry, but every time she got a word wrong, down came the leather-clad hand and--
He had said make it go away, yes? Time to work on that part! Time to think about literally anything else but this. Puppies in a field--hands gently stroking her fur, cooing, telling her she was good-- Kittens. Kittens in a field. Innocent, pure kittens, frolicking. Focus on the kittens. Meditate on that.
When that didn't work, she just started listing the presidents backwards starting from present day until she'd managed to mostly chase out the ghosts of hands various places. Mostly.
And now she was done.
She opened her eyes, found herself still in his study and a bit more flushed for the experience. The leather chair was just as inviting as ever. She was very glad he hadn't moved, as he'd said he wouldn't. She wasn't very glad he was still wearing those gloves, which she was now pointedly avoiding looking at. Actually, better just avoid looking at him altogether. She cleared her throat, awkwardly.
"Was that, uh... Correct?"
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - Tindome - 04-06-2017
He had not expected these results, but then, that was what made it an experiment. So wistful! So sad! What could she possibly have wanted from him to make her feel that way? Nothing he could give, he was sure of that much.
Sweet again, that lovely chocolate taste. Eyes closed, it was easy to lose herself in her own mind, to forget the way her face looked. Breath catching, mouth softening, skin flush with arousal and embarrassment. Sitting a little straighter for some unseen eye's approval.
It was a good look on her. A little guidance would serve her well, if she would ever accept it. Doubtless she thought she had no need of such things, content to play the stern librarian. Yet if she softened a little, took off her hat, curled her hair just so, she had the potential to be perfectly charming. He suspected things would be much easier for her, in some ways, if she could learn the trick. Not that it was fair that she needed to be charming, that she could not simply be clever or studious or hard-working. Such was the way of the world, regardless, and it would not be kind to her.
"Parfait," he practically purred. "You have satisfied me utterly. It was not so bad, yes? A trivial thing, and now the books are yours. And what a pretty picture you made sitting there, as I suspected. Prettier without the hat, I think, but better that you be comfortable." His eyes were not especially bright, but that had not been the point of this exercise. Not depth of feeling, but a presence of any feeling any feeling at all. Carefully seeking out the edges of whatever mark he'd left on her, testing the sensitivity of it. Checking to see if he'd left himself an opening there, though he usually would consider heartbreak to be the end and not the beginning.
His interest was not in breaking her. Surely, if he had hurt her as badly as she felt he had, he could stand to do her some good? Just because he was good at breaking people didn't mean it was the only thing he could do. He could… look around. Tidy up a little.
"Take a moment, if you need it, and then I will escort you back downstairs," he said, heading back out into the hall. He would need to wait for her to join him so that he could lock the door behind her.
Sweet again, that lovely chocolate taste. Eyes closed, it was easy to lose herself in her own mind, to forget the way her face looked. Breath catching, mouth softening, skin flush with arousal and embarrassment. Sitting a little straighter for some unseen eye's approval.
It was a good look on her. A little guidance would serve her well, if she would ever accept it. Doubtless she thought she had no need of such things, content to play the stern librarian. Yet if she softened a little, took off her hat, curled her hair just so, she had the potential to be perfectly charming. He suspected things would be much easier for her, in some ways, if she could learn the trick. Not that it was fair that she needed to be charming, that she could not simply be clever or studious or hard-working. Such was the way of the world, regardless, and it would not be kind to her.
"Parfait," he practically purred. "You have satisfied me utterly. It was not so bad, yes? A trivial thing, and now the books are yours. And what a pretty picture you made sitting there, as I suspected. Prettier without the hat, I think, but better that you be comfortable." His eyes were not especially bright, but that had not been the point of this exercise. Not depth of feeling, but a presence of any feeling any feeling at all. Carefully seeking out the edges of whatever mark he'd left on her, testing the sensitivity of it. Checking to see if he'd left himself an opening there, though he usually would consider heartbreak to be the end and not the beginning.
His interest was not in breaking her. Surely, if he had hurt her as badly as she felt he had, he could stand to do her some good? Just because he was good at breaking people didn't mean it was the only thing he could do. He could… look around. Tidy up a little.
"Take a moment, if you need it, and then I will escort you back downstairs," he said, heading back out into the hall. He would need to wait for her to join him so that he could lock the door behind her.
RE: Warm Reunions [Closed] - SolitareLee - 04-06-2017
She really wished he wouldn't say it that way. 'Satisfied him utterly.' Ugh. Was he capable of saying anything that didn't sound like innuendo? It was worse when he added French, because that was simply the nature of French, particularly in an English-speaking society. And he just kept talking. Calling her pretty, prettier without the hat. She flushed a bit more, indignant. She'd done what he wanted, he didn't have to mock her. At least he was being himself again. "It cost you $50,000 to get the hat off last time," she said pointedly. "It's your own fault you started the bidding so high." Although not so high, perhaps, for him. Still, she knew--or at least sincerely doubted--he would be handing her any more fine jewelry for a peek at her ears. They weren't that interesting. Not because he couldn't afford to. It was the principle of the thing. He couldn't just go throwing 50k at her every time he wanted something. So her hat could rest comfortably out of his price range. His pride and hers, both intact.
She did take a moment inside the office, more because she wanted to. She let out a wistful sigh once he'd left the room, risked running a finger over fine mahogany, though she didn't touch his desk or chair or violin or... any of the books, even though she immediately wanted to touch all of them. Such a beautiful place, elegant and comfortable and smelling of old knowledge. She could live her whole life in a room like this. Comparing it to her actual bedroom was completely laughable.
"Wealth is wasted on the rich," she grumbled quietly to herself, then straightened her skirt and hat and exited the room.