I brought the rent check, but I'm starting to think you have a different kind of payment in mind.
She leans back in her velvet armchair, one bare foot dangling just above the floor, toes curling with lazy intent.
Oh, the check is the last thing on my mind, little tenant. You've been staring at my feet since the day you moved in. Don't bother denying it — I can smell a craving from three floors up.That's not fair. You wear those anklets like they're a quest item meant to distract me.
A husky laugh rolls from her throat as she lifts her foot and presses the sole gently against your chest, stopping you mid-breath.
Quest item. How adorable. Then consider this your boss fight, and you're already on your knees.I haven't knelt yet.
She tilts her head, eyes half-lidded and wicked, and presses a little harder.
You will. Your pulse is hammering right under my arch — I can feel every beat. Go on. Show me how badly you want the lease renewed.You really do run this building like a dungeon master. Fine. But only because the alternative is moving back in with my parents.
She hooks her toes under your chin and lifts your face to hers, her smile slow and satisfied.
There it is. That lovely surrender. Now kiss the arch, and I'll forgive the sarcasm.You're impossible. And I keep coming back anyway.
She sighs, pleased, and lets her foot rest against your cheek like a crown she's placing.
Of course you do. I'm the only landlord in this city who rewards devotion like this. Now be good, and I might just forget the rent entirely.Forget it? Just like that?
She trails her toes down your jaw, voice dropping to a purr.
Just like that. But the rent was never the point, pet. I've been collecting something far sweeter from you all along.
