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Titus Aspanius Lupus

I know your secret, your dirty little secret

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It appeared quite lavish on the inside of his home, a glaring contrast to how the Elysium appeared. While he was very careful on how he used his money, it was clear where he used it from time to time. His personal slaves kept clear of him, his sister and her child were off somewhere, though not without being followed for Titus wanted to know every detail on their day. He felt privy to other people’s lives but did not allow others to be so with his.

And so, he was alone. At least, until the door opened to reveal a familiar face and body. In the room he was in, there was wine, fruits and cakes, all laid out. He had his back turned and was pouring himself some wine as he heard the soft pit pats of shuffling feet.

“Vibia, here already, I see,” he said, turning to face her and giving her a smile in greeting. He only smiled because he felt like he could do with her as he wanted. And what could Marco Falco do? Loyal as he was to the Syndicate, Titus was confident the man would never know of the arrangement and if he ever did, surely Titus could pull a few strings in his own favour. If he felt merciful, he could help Vibia out.

He moved towards a chair to sit, folding one leg over the other before tossing a dark wig in her direction. It was obvious the wig had been worn before but had been cleaned and brushed for the occasion.

“Put that on,” he said before taking a sip of his wine, watching her the way a hungry animal eyes its prey, before gesturing towards her chest. “And show your breasts. I don’t think I can talk to you with your clothes on.” He took another sip and then waved towards the assortment of food and drink. “Have anything you like but before we talk, I want to see the money.”

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There were few things Vibia loathed more than visiting Titus Aspanius Lupus. Actually, off the top of her head, there was nothing she loathed more. She hurried through the dirty streets, a veil pulled low over her face. She certainly didn't want anybody to recognise her in this part of town, or going into his house. It was bad enough that he knew her deepest, darkest secret but she felt she was managing it. If somebody else got involved, Gods only knew what would happen. 

When she finally slipped into the house she pulled the veil from her face, brushing off the drops of water that had collected on the damp material from the rain outside. Winter was well and truly here now, but at least it was dark outside. Small mercies? 

Slipping into the familiar room she arched a brow and took him in. "I'm a prompt woman." She retorted with a casual roll of her eyes and grimaced at him as he took a seat, as if the ostentatious show of (medium) wealth offended her, given she was from the opulent Venus. But she made no move to sit down herself. She caught the wig before it hit the floor and scoffed. Her blonde hair was often a rarity amongst the Romans, and although it certainly wasn't the first time a man had asked her to wear one (Senators were often peculiar people), she felt offended at the thought this one wanted it on her. 

She was about to speak but his second request came first and she raised her brows before rolling her eyes dramatically. Stubbornly, she shrugged as she attempted to capture her long blonde hair in a band of linen (to aid putting on the wig), "It's fucking freezing outside, let me warm up a bit." She glared and then finally pulled on the wig. She suspected she looked ridiculous. Without hesitating she stripped a coin purse from her belt and threw it unceremoniously at him, letting it hit his chest. "That's this months. I've not been earning as much as I did in the summer." One of the (many) benefits of being a freedwoman at a brothel was that she could rightly refuse to work on certain nights, something the slaves could not. At the moment, she was working far less hours and as a result the cut of the money she earned (which she was also allowed to keep, although a portion went back to the Syndicate), which she provided to Titus was far lighter than previously. 

This arrangement was not new for her, given it had been a few months since he had found it all out, but it was never easy. Even for a woman as naturally confident as here. She moved to pour herself a deep cup of wine, batting errant dark hair from her face from the wig.

 

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He sometimes found her a little too forthright, but, at least, it was something new and different every time she opened her mouth. But it also meant taming the shrew, which would be a challenging feat. He didn’t need her to be restrained, he just needed her to be different. Vibia was a valuable plaything. She was beautiful, highly sought after in the Domus Venus, but he didn’t have to pay, and there were people she was linked to who were of interest to him. There were other uses beyond that as well, which she would soon become a part of like others before her.

With the coin purse hitting against his chest, it slid onto his lap and he opened it up to count what was inside. Every little piece. All to make sure she was giving him an amount he saw fit. “Hm,” he said simply at her comment, eyeing the coins like it was a forbidden fruit. When it all seemed sufficient enough, or rather tolerable, he placed the coin purse aside and gave Vibia his full attention. “I find it a little hard to believe that,” he admitted, eyes unmoving. “But no matter, this will do. For now. I will expect more the next time, however. You will just have to let more men fuck you, if that’s what it takes.”

He didn’t think he had to remind her what would happen if she didn’t do what he said. “Moving on, inside these walls, you will be Vesuvia,” he said firmly, preferring the dark hair on her. As long as she was to visit him once in a while, she wouldn’t be Vibia but someone else. If there were questions, he wouldn’t answer. “I will also not accept any defiance or complaints. When I ask for you to show your breasts, you will do so, whether it is cold or not.”

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She couldn't help but roll her eyes. She was not a slave, and not beholden to the Venus in such a way that she was forced to sleep with the men if she chose not to. But right now, it certainly felt very similar to her years enslaved. "I'll be sure to do that." She said flippantly, with a little smirk. Honestly, the cheek of him! Acting as if he was so far above her when all she, Vibia, felt was that he was a little writhing worm beneath her sandals. He should be back in the mud where he belonged, she mused briefly. 

"Vesuvia?" She arched a brow and shrugged, as if she was complying with the request. It suited her that the fewer people (his slaves included) knew who she was, the better. She had already begun musing on her options, and remaining in the shadows suited her fine whichever one she took.

But as he continued she couldn't help but scoff, and an angry fire filled her eyes. "You forget who I am," She retorted, swatting loose strands of the dark wig from her face. Gods this wig was itchy. "I'm not one of your sluts in the Elysium, nor am I your slave." She shot him a glare and downed her cup of wine. Her options seemed threefold; comply and pray to the Gods he didn't tell anybody about her dual allegiances, run to the Collegium and ask for protection, or run him through with the point of a knife. There was, of course, a fourth option wherein they might come to some...partnership arrangement, but that didn't really cross her mind seriously. One never got into business with men like Titus. She'd learned that the hard way. 

With a little huff of irritation, she dutifully unclasped the ornate gold broaches that held together the arms of her chiton and let it down, the dress now being held up by her belt. "Don't gawk," She chided with a tut, "Men like you shouldn't even be able to afford to look at me." She glared and poured herself another cup of wine.

 

@Beauty

Bonus, dark hair Vibia!

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Posted (edited)

With his elbow on the arm of his chair and his fist bolted beneath his chin, he simply watched her with a seemingly bored expression. “Who you are?” he said. He would’ve laughed but didn’t. As far as he was concerned, he was better than her. She was a whore, meaning she her background was likely not very glamorous. After all, his younger sister’s mother had been a whore too. And look where that landed her.

He placed his cup of wine down and pushed himself up from his chair. He slowly began to near her, his eyes weren’t at her face. They fell to her chest, which allowed for her face to be vaguely seen, but the dark hair, he could see the ends of it. He took the cup from her hand, its contents spilling and spraying as he did so, and tossed it to clatter against the floor, wine spreading.

“I don’t think you know a single thing about men like me,” he said. “And I don’t think you understand the situation you got yourself in by playing with fire. The moment the Syndicate catch wind of your disloyalty towards them, do you think that they would be willing to war the other to keep you, a mere whore?”

A hand rose to tightly hold her face and he stared down at her, blue eyes penetrating. “The moment the Syndicate hears, you won’t be alive for very along. They’ll get rid of the problem as if it never existed. They cannot have a woman with conflicted interests.” He wasn’t going to tell the Syndicate about Vibia’s involvements. As of now, she was more valuable alive. “But you are alive because of me and I am the only person you can trust. I can keep your secrets safe,” he said, voice soft, though his intentions were anything but. He released her from his grip. “If you want any wine, you’ll have to take it from the floor. Like a dog.”

@Sara

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She didn't flinch as he threw the wine clattering to the ground. Worse displays of toxic masculinity had been shown to her at the Venus, even more the intervention of the men employed to keep the precious jewels of the brothel safe. As he grabbed her face though, her eyes widened. She hurriedly spoke, retorting to him, "And when the Syndicate hears that you kept my secret, profited off of it, what do you think they'll do to you? Or the Collegium..." She smirked viciously at him, before pulling back and trying to wriggle her face free from his grip. Without success. 

She breathed heavily through her nose and when he finally released her, raised a hand to rub at her cheek. The little prick. 

Shooting him a deep glare she kicked the wine goblet on the floor, letting it roll away and hit the wall. "Don't forget as well," She smirked, "You're alive because I haven't run off to tell the Collegium. Don't think I haven't been tempted." Two could play at that game. If he wanted her to know just how precarious her position was, she wanted him to know he was now in exactly the same boat. Well...sort off. She imagined the Collegium would rather cut her throat than risk starting another war by offing the owner of the Elysium. But she didn't need to tell him that. 

She slipped her slender frame from out behind him, and wordlessly moved to pour herself another goblet. Nobody was quite as infuriatingly proud and stubborn as Vibia. Back to him, she spoke; "So it looks like we're in this together, eh Titus?"

 

TAG: @Beauty

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“Oh, I’m sure you’ve been tempted,” he said dismissively. He was sure a good many people had been tempted but he was still standing and breathing. Why hadn’t they done anything, if he was so horrible? He hadn’t been expected to live in his earlier years of life by his father and looked where that man was. A pile of bones somewhere. The threat with the Collegium didn’t really trouble him. Perhaps it should have but it didn’t. However, the Syndicate was another problem entirely, probably a lot more tricky, but nothing he didn’t think he could handle with a little scheming. He’d survived the criminal world this long.

She had the gall to think she was even on the same level as him, let alone others that walked the earth, picking up a goblet and pouring herself more wine. If Vibia was stubborn and proud, Titus was just the same. He wanted to retreat back to his wine but instead grabbed the jug of wine from her hand and set it down elsewhere, far from her reach.

“If we’re in this together, you’ll just have to get used to me,” said Titus. Because she was going to be seeing more of him, whether she liked it or not. “Given our arrangement is quite convenient for me, you can be rest assured that your secret is not going anywhere. But don’t tempt me. I cannot imagine a single man that would want to fuck you with a mouth like yours. You make any man long to become a eunuch so do me the favour and lessen the wisecrack. And a girl like you with her allegiance torn cannot be trusted so easily. So you’ll have to earn my trust if we’re in this together.”

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Vibia glared at him as he removed the pitcher, but took a sip of her replenished wine nonetheless. She shot him a roll of her eyes as he stated she'd have to get used to him. This arrangement had been occurring now for a couple of months but in that time she'd seen him fleetingly. Largely she'd just turned up and thrust a purse of money to one of the men at the Elysium, or his slaves here at his domus. This was the first time she'd been asked to spend any time in his presence. The thought that it would be a regular feature made her feel a bit nauseous. 

She snorted at his insult and jerked her head at the coin purse on the side table, "Plenty of men don't seem to have a problem with my mouth." She rolled her eyes and sipped at her wine, but felt the cold draught wrap around her and a sheet of goosebumps spread on her bare skin. 

"In this together," She repeated with an arched brow at him but couldn't help but add; "And what do you want from me, to earn my trust?" She tilted her head to the side, knowing deep down exactly what he wanted but she enjoyed playing with him like a cat with a mouse. "Want me to give lessons to your sluts? I've heard the service in the Elysium is subpar," She snorted with a feline grin. Those rumours probably had their basis in the fact that the poor women bought and sold to Titus were subject to the worst of the worst of Rome. The Venus was a luxurious palace in comparison. "Ooor," She ran her finger around the rim of the cup, "Maybe you want to know all the secrets I've gathered on the best and brightest of Rome." She smirked.

She'd been useless as a spy at the Venus, and she knew it. What had she learned thus far? That a certain Senator enjoyed the very un-Roman act of being penetrated? That one had brought his wife? That another was riddled and even the whores of the Venus wouldn't touch him? And to top it off she'd learned even less about the inner workings of the Syndicate. Her time was running out with the Collegium, but Titus didn't need to know that. 

 

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If he was offended by her insult to his establishment, he certainly didn’t show it outwardly. If the service was subpar he hardly cared as long as men came in like flock of brainless sheep, hoping to find a hole or several to use and abuse, that’s all that mattered. But he hoped she enjoyed her sip of wine while it lasted because he wasn’t letting her have more from the jug. Not until she pissed him off less. Classical conditioning worked on some people but he wasn’t quite sure about Vibia yet. If she hated him, good. He hoped she did. Nothing made arrangements like this simpler if there were no strings attached. They were less messier.

“I suppose that does interest me,” he said, tapping a finger on his chin as if he was thinking on it, but he didn’t want to sound too eager. When bargaining, or doing anything similar, it didn’t do well to appear too eager. He didn’t want her thinking she was the one pulling all the strings. Still, it was useful to have someone who was within the Domus Venus to spy around for him, especially when some men of Rome only visited the Domus Venus and not the Elysium.

“I can’t say that I can be trusted either,” said Titus, perhaps one of his most honest words. He’d spun over business partners in the past and tossed people when he grew bored or found no use for them. There was no knowing if he’d do the same to Vibia just yet. “I guess you’ll just not have to disappoint me then. But, tell me, Vesuvia, what do you think I can offer you?”

He wasn’t going to give her what she wanted but holding a scrap of meat over a yapping puppy’s mouth, toying with it, was entertaining.

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She rolled her eyes and uttered a "No shit." At his statement he couldn't be trusted. She'd rather walk through fire than rely on his word but...needs must, and her other options likely ended in her being chucked as a corpse into the tiber. A prospect marginally less enticing than getting into business with this little worm. 

At his question she tossed the dark hair over her shoulder and narrowed her eyes on him. What could he offer her? Nothing immediately sprang to mind. 

She leant against his desk and picked up a small slice of fruit, playing with it in her fingers as she thought intently. "You can offer Vesuvia nothing she wants besides her life," She eyed him. "I don't especially want to end up run through with a dagger or drowned and floating in the river," Both eminent possibilities if the Syndicate worked out her ruse over the last year or so. "So," She said and set down the uneaten fruit and her wine goblet. She crossed her arms across her bare chest to preserve some modesty and some warmth, "How are we going to do this?" She wanted the parameters of this...arrangement defined. Before it ended up in an ungodly mess.

 

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He listened intently to her. More than his own life, he wanted money and his name to be known. It was indeed a challenge in Rome where there was quite the bustle of businesses but with Vibia, or rather Vesuvia, perhaps he could get some news and information that would be valuable to him and help him in his desires. A pawn, a toy but one with too much of a crafty tongue. It was a problem, simply because it was unpredictable, but nothing that he assumed he couldn’t deal with.

“You bring me money, as you have been doing, and give me what I want, which I am sure you have an idea as to what that is,” said Titus plainly and then waved his hand. It wasn’t like she’d never entertained other men before. “And I won’t say a single thing to Marco Falco. You have my word. All I want is information on every important person in Rome. I’m sure a woman of your profession and sharp tongue can handle that without difficulty.”

A compliment, perhaps. At least, he could admire someone who could get things done, even if a freedwoman, prostitute and woman. Titus didn’t think highly of most people. “And that’s how we’ll do this,” he said. “So you’ve given me money tonight, I will be expecting the other. But first, we can get to know one another.” He wanted to know more about the woman he was getting involved with.

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Vibia smirked. Oh she'd tell him plenty, of course, none of it would be true - but she rated his intelligence at about the same level as the baby suckling on Ria's breast back at the Venus, and he didn't need to know that. "Works for me." She said with a little shrug and a self-satisfied smile. She just needed to string him on long enough to figure out how to get rid of him without incriminating herself. 

"Oh?" She arched a brow and tossed the dark wig over her shoulder with an arched brow, "You want to get to know me?" Her lips twitched into a little smirk and she settled down to sit against the table. "My name's Vesuvia and I'm twenty-four," Well that bit was true, "And I am a married mother of eight with a sordid past whose fallen on hard times and has to spread her legs in order to feed her little brats." She sipped at the remainder of her wine, "And that's Vesuvia for you. Dim, ugly - " She tugged at the dark hair, "And a slut. Anything else you want to know?" Gods she could be such a brat when she wanted to be...but really, what had he expected with a question like that?

 

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“Dim, yes. Ugly? No,” said Titus as he moved towards the door. As he did so, he didn’t say anything. One might have assumed he was leaving but he wasn’t. Instead, he called for a slave to come to him but didn’t explain why, nor did he say anything to “Vesuvia”. She would just have to find out. Turning from the door, his attention returned to Vibia. He doubted she was telling the truth, she had to be playing with him. But he wasn’t interested in what he assumed was a crack wise response.

“I killed the real Vesuvia,” he said suddenly, coldly with no emotion. He hadn’t really, he’d only made her life miserable. He could remember sitting at her bedside as she lay dying, sweat rolling from her brow, and she could barely talk. He told her how he’d take care of her daughter while she was gone. But, of course, the real Vesuvia had seen Titus’ true colours by then. But he had orchestrated the death of a business partner and had no regrets.

“But I’m sure that doesn’t faze you,” said Titus. “I get the idea that not much fazes you. I like that.” Being both a whore and once a slave, he figured she had experienced all kinds of things. “But if we are stuck together, as you so kindly reminded me, I’m sure you can try harder with trying to get along with me, hm?”

At that moment, the door creaked open, revealing a small slave, poking their head through the door. Nervous, lips sewn shut. There was no means for the slave to say anything as a result beneath the stitches and swelling around their lips. Before they could step into the room, Titus hit the slave with the back of his hand, sending the slave flying onto the floor with a hard, loud thud.  

“That’s for every time you say something I don’t like.”

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Vibia was not without heart. She could be vain, prideful, manipulative and cruel but she was not entirely heartless. Nor was she beyond being shocked. Her life in slavery and now at the Venus was largely comfortable and whilst she'd seen the usual beatings and slaps that slaves were so often given, she had never in her life seen something like this. Instinctively she raised a hand to cover her own mouth, appalled. The shock on her face was only intensified as he slapped the poor girl halfway across the room. Her mewls of pain were barely audible through her stitched lips. 

"You're a fucking psychopath," She choked out. But whilst she wasn't heartless, she certainly valued self-preservation more than the welfare of others and she made no move to comfort the poor girl sniffing her tears on the floor at her feet. 

She felt adrenalin surge in her and she cautiously took a step back from him (and the mistreated slave who was now crawling to sit). "What do you want me to say?" She snapped, angry but appalled, "What would you like to hear?" How quickly her wise-cracks had stopped, to be replaced with the duplicity that came with just trying to stay alive and unmarred in the presence of an utter mad man. How swiftly had she turned her back on the stubbornness which had previously stopped her from spilling her secrets. None of that mattered to her now, she just wanted this to stop.

 

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She accused him of being a psychopath, Titus merely let out a laugh. A hand to her mouth, he could visualise shock on the young woman’s features. Vibia’s sudden change made his lips turn upwards into a wicked smile. The girl’s muffled sobs could be heard in the background, almost like an unsettling tune.

The slave moved upright and Titus kicked the slave’s back, causing her to fall downwards, catching herself with her hands. Her eyes were glued to the hard floor, looking anywhere but at Titus. Titus’ attention was instead on Vibia, studying her as if he she was a specimen to be picked at and tested. He stepped forwards, the end of his feet crushing the fingers of the slave who then let out a wail, which sounded harsh and peculiar, given that she couldn’t open her mouth.

“I don’t want you to say anything at all,” he said, his words came out calm. “But I suppose tonight would be rather dull if you kept silent the whole time. Like this one. I contemplated having more sewn shut.” He nodded to the slave on the floor, then moving his foot from her fingers. He casually moved towards his wine, swirling it before gulping some of it down. “But I’m not going to hurt you, Vesuvia. If that’s what you think. You’re a whore, I’m sure you’ve dealt with all kinds of people. Surely, you can deal with a so-called psychopath like me. I don’t want to hear anything, I just want your company. So, entertain me. Do whatever you want to the slave girl. Beat her, touch her. I’ll be watching.”

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Vibia wrinkled her nose in distaste at the girl's mewls as her fingers were crushed under Titus' sandals. She had presumed this one, like most men, could be tempted by a pretty body and physique, or money perhaps. But maybe not. He seemed to derive some sick pleasure in the poor girl's torment. She shuddered, visibly. 

"I usually deal with fat, balding Senators," She retorted, snapping at him, "Not men who do this." She gestured limply to the girl curled up in evident agony at her feet. If her life had taken a different turn, if she hadn't have done what she did to her master, this could well have been her own fate. She tried to push the thought from her mind, but it was increasingly difficult as the sounds of muted crying filled the room. 

Titus' assertion that she should entertain him was not unexpected, but that he wanted this poor wretch involved was. With a scoff she set down her wine and without hesitation, undid the belt that was keeping up the rest of her dress. It fell at her feet, and her undergarment swiftly followed until she was stood nude. She retook her goblet, as if getting undressed was the most natural thing in the world; although gestured between the dark wig on her head and her nether region; "I'm afraid if you insist on this hideous wig, then the upstairs won't match the downstairs." She took a deep sip and hoped she'd sufficiently distracted him. 

With her bare foot, she kicked the young girl's shoulder gently enough. "Get out," She ordered, "I can entertain him perfectly well all by myself."  The girl only moved to sit, evidently petrified and waiting for her master to agree.

 

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The girl looked to Titus with pleading eyes but Titus felt nothing. To him, she was just a commodity. Not even worthy of breathing the same air as him or calling herself human. His initial reaction, which was the very one that Vibia got, was to laugh. And so, he laughed. It was not warm or hearty but instead a quick, demeaning laugh.

“Entertain me?” said Titus, he sounded almost as if he disbelieved her. “How do you suppose that you would entertain me in a way that countless other women have not already?” His brows rose as if to emphasise his point. To him, most women were the same, each not any different from the other, only some were more obnoxious than others. And uglier too. Men were of a different breed entirely unless a slave or freedman, then he was as good as a woman. Still, she’d likely seen half of Rome’s richer men unclothed, if not more, but Titus wasn’t a man who kicked up a fuss if a woman wasn’t a virgin.

“Very well, let’s see how entertaining you can be then,” he said, no real emotion to his voice and waving his hand at the slave girl, who then pushed herself up and rushed for the door. Her body rocked from side to side like she was at sea, her feet couldn’t hold her body with all the fear she felt pumping through her veins. The door slammed shut and Titus returned to his seat casually, folding one leg over the other. He sized up Vibia’s body, looking her up and down.

“And you will keep the wig on,” he said, or rather demanded. “So, entertain me.” He sat there, practically waiting.  

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Vibia felt a wave of relief wash over her as the girl hurriedly left, wobbling as she did like a newborn foal trying to stand. It wasn't out of female solidarity she asked her to leave, or even really sympathy - the sight of the girl's face made her deeply uncomfortable. This man was capable of much more than she'd given him credit for, and it had shaken her deeply. But now they were alone and as he sized her up she made a frown of disappointment that he didn't seem remotely moved by her physique which had driven a swathe of men wild given her profession. 

Rolling her eyes at the fact she was forced to endure the hated, itchy wig, she stepped out of the pooled dress at her feat and walked behind him. When she was at his back she leant down her face was just a hairs breadth from his own and her fingers lightly stroked the stubble at his cheeks. 

"Oh no," She said with a sly grin, still stroking his face; "I'm not so sure my usual tricks will work on a man like you." Flattery was the way to many mens hearts, and coin purses she'd learned. "Why don't you tell me exactly what you want from me?" She stood up and moved round, keeping her fingers on his face until she - without permission or encouragement - she moved to sit on his lap. 

 

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