A/N: Hi everyone! This is my story for the Olicity Fic Bang on Tumblr. This is a continuation of my oneshot "Taste of Your Poison Paradise." You don't need to read the story, but it's a smutty prostitute/client AU I wrote a little over a year ago. I'll go back and fix a few things on my oneshot so it flows better with this fic, but again, you don't have to read it in order to understand the story.

This multichapter fic is partly inspired by the awesome series "The Secret Diary of a Call Girl," which I definitely recommend if you like Billie Piper, drama and comedy. Many, many thanks to Tammy for being a wonderful beta and Mimi for cheering me on. And I have to give a special shoutout to Sam for making this story a thousand times better. You three are the best.

The air smells of sex and sweat, filling up his nostrils with its delicious scent. He savors it, his lips licking in anticipation of what's going to happen next. She looks so fucking good from here – wet and ripe for his taking, lips swollen and chest rapidly rising and falling.

He could get used to this view.

His cock hardens at the sight of her, and he licks his lips in preparation –

"Hello? Earth to Oliver?"

Oliver snaps his head up and looks at Felicity, clearing his throat as he feigns innocence. It was getting remarkably easy to pretend he wasn't constantly daydreaming about having sex with her. "Did I miss something?"

Rolling her eyes, Felicity shakes her head in disbelief. "Unbelievable. You zoned out the moment I was getting to the good part!"

He laughs as his chest fills with warmth. That was the thing about Felicity: she's magnetic and he loves getting pulled into her orbit.

He is so fucked.

It's been a little over a year since he and Felicity met for her "scheduled appointment" and their subsequent run-in at a coffee shop. He's never had a friendship with any of his clients in the past, since it can be quite awkward for them, but with Felicity something had clicked to the point where he felt compelled to reveal his real name, not his escort one. They've been friends ever since, and with her Oliver finds a little bit of stability amongst his hectic and unique life.

Having Felicity as a friend has turned his life around. Before, he would go back to his lonely apartment after his appointments and dwell on what could've been. Now, he looks forward to their regular meetings, to watching movies with her, and getting to know her bit by bit. Of course, having had sex with each other initially made things complicated, but after deciding to push past how they met, they quickly moved onto becoming friends.

Well, Felicity views him as a friend, but Oliver . . . Oliver doesn't know how he views her. And it's beginning to be a problem.

Oliver understands his profession isn't one you typically advertise to the world. Being a high-class prostitute means he spends most of his days trying to funnel illegal money in legitimate ways, and screwing women for ridiculous amounts of money. Having a romantic relationship with anyone is out of the question. Who in their right mind would be okay with their significant other being a glorified whore?

But with Felicity, he fantasizes about a life so unlike his own it's starting to overtake his every waking moment. She's incredibly patient, understanding, kind, and above all refuses to judge Oliver for his profession. She makes his days considerably brighter and her optimism is infectious.

Sometimes he wonders what his life would've been like had he meet her when he'd needed someone as strong as Felicity, but at this point there's no reason to dwell on the past, to look back and wonder what-if. Oliver's lucky to have Felicity in his life, regardless if it happened much later than he would've liked. The fact that she's still here never ceases to amaze him, and he savors every moment he has with her.

Not wanting Felicity to catch he's zoned out again, Oliver smoothly changes the subject. "Are we still on for Wednesday night?"

Frowning, Felicity looks at her coffee mug and pouts. "No." It takes every bit of strength not to laugh, because seeing Kord Industries' premier IT consultant pouting is a sight to behold. (It doesn't help she's wearing a bright pink lipstick, and if possible makes her luscious lips look even bigger. Not that he's paying attention or anything.)

"Why, is it work?" Oliver takes a sip from his own cup and patiently waits for her reply. He's certainly disappointed, but this isn't the first time Felicity's had to cancel their Wednesday movie night plans. Felicity's job can become hectic at a moment's notice, whereas Oliver has the luxury of scheduling his appointments whenever he wants.

"Unfortunately, yes. There's this huge project we're working on, and we hit a couple of roadblocks. I keep having meetings with the engineers and researchers, but it's still not shaping up as fast as I would like." She sighs and toys with her napkin. "I'm sorry."

Oliver shakes his head as he tries to make Felicity feel better about the situation. "Don't be. You can always make it up to me. You're a busy person with an important job – it happens."

Visibly relaxing at his comment, Felicity says, "Yeah, my job's just a little harder than yours."

Tilting his head to the side, Oliver raises an eyebrow and takes another sip from his cup, waiting for Felicity to realize she's made a suggestive comment. She never fails to accidentally drop an innuendo here and there, which provides a much-needed opportunity for Oliver to make fun of Felicity.

Her eyes widen in horror once she fully recognizes what she said. "Oh my God, why can't I keep my mouth shut?" Burying her face in her hands, she grumbles, "And now you'll use that against me . . . like every other time."

"Hmm. Fortunately for you, I'm feeling charitable today since work seems to be getting harder by the second."

"I hate you."

And I lo – like you.

Grinning, Oliver checks his watch and sees his break time is almost over. Even though Oliver clearly doesn't need to work at the coffee shop, he's found it makes him feel slightly better working a normal job. Also, it provides a much-needed cover to funnel his money, but considering the pace he's working at it'll take him several years to completely flush his money through.

Ah, the woes of being a high-class prostitute.

"Hey, my shift's about to start." Standing up, he collects his cup and Felicity's plate of half-eaten chocolate cake. "You can leave a tip on the table," he adds with a wink.

Felicity narrows her eyes at his comment as he certainly doesn't need any tips, but her eyes suddenly light up in amusement. Leaning against the chair, Felicity eyes Oliver up and down and says, "Well, now I know why you're asking for them in the first place."

"Oh?" His curiosity peaked, he crosses his arms and waits for Felicity to tell him whatever joke she saw on the Internet.

"Because no one's willing to let you stick the whole thing in." Believing she's finally caught him, Felicity mimics a gun and pretends to shoot him. Oliver plays along and clutches his stomach, but clicks his tongue as he steps forward.

"Touché, Smoak." Towering over her, Oliver smirks as he watches Felicity's haughty expression dissipate once she realizes he's going in for the kill. "But seeing that I get paid five grand on average to use just my fingers . . ."

"Ugh, fine!" Glancing around the shop, Felicity grits her teeth, her eyes flaming in annoyance. "You can't let me have this one joke, can you?"

Now he feels bad, but seeing Felicity get all kinds of flustered is adorable to him. "Nope." He laughs good-heartedly, which causes Felicity to smile marginally, but he knows she'll get over it. Collecting the trash from the table and putting it on the plate, he winks on more time and says, "See you around, Smoak."

She waves him off dismissively. "Yeah, whatever. I'll be praying for your demise in the meantime."

Laughing once more, Oliver walks away with a bounce in his step, grinning as he goes behind the counter and disposes of the trash. He quickly turns around and sees Felicity deep in thought on her phone, and he can't restrain himself from smiling again. She's a sight to behold – the light blue dress accentuates her petite frame, and her golden hair creates a lovely halo around her. She's beautiful.

"Stop daydreaming and get to work," his boss scolds. Clearing his throat, Oliver wraps his apron around his waist and tries not to think about Felicity again. Although, it's getting pretty hard not to.

Felicity's Sunday afternoons are especially reserved for her and Oliver at Jitters, because the rest of the week often gets too busy for the both of them. As Wednesdays drag, Thursdays bump along, and quiet Saturdays get interrupted she has Sudays shining like a beacon of light at the end of the tunnel.

While Felicity walks home after Jitters, she can't help but look back on unbelievable it is she and Oliver have become friends in the past six months. She never would've imagined becoming friends with someone she once paid to have sex with, yet here she is, spending every Sunday afternoon and Wednesday evening with Oliver. And of course, texting him everyday just because she can.

Their first meeting outside of the hotel where they had initially first met was unexpected and unbearably awkward. When she ran out of the coffee shop after seeing the male prostitute she'd hired taking orders at the register Felicity vowed to never come back . . . a vow which lasted only until she desperately needed her coffee fix and there wasn't a shop nearby. Eventually she was able to she gather enough courage to venture inside and even managed to order her drink without a hiccup as Oliver, bless him, pretended he didn't know her.

Still, it was difficult to ignore their history. When Oliver asked to speak with her privately Felicity agreed, although she was nervous and unsure of what would transpire. To her surprise, he explained why he worked at Jitters, and if seeing him made her uncomfortable, he would gladly change his shifts and not take her order if they happened to be in the cafe at the same time. Naturally, his thoughtfulness when it came to her feelings convinced Felicity to relax, and before she knew it they had become fast friends over orders of lattes and danishes.

Thank God for a five thousand dollar one-night stand, right?

Although she and Oliver are one hundred percent absolutely platonic friends, Felicity would be lying if she hadn't thought about Oliver and the single night they'd spent together. After knowing what he can do in between the sheets . . . Her imagination ran wild for a very long time. But in no way would she consider a relationship with him given he's a prostitute.

She's certainly not prejudiced against prostitution, and she doesn't judge Oliver for what he does. It's just Felicity's not comfortable with the idea of Oliver sleeping with others then coming home to sleep with her. It sounds rather possessive, and Felicity's the first to admit she's not a fan of sharing, especially when it comes to her significant other. And more importantly, Oliver's illegal job would be weighing on their entire relationship. Felicity intends to advance her career, and she has no doubt people will begin to snoop into her personal life. Whether or not Oliver continues to be a prostitute remains to be seen, but his history will always catch up to him. Felicity can't possibly be entrenched in a scandal as she's trying to become someone famous in the tech world.

But she's getting ahead of herself – she doesn't even know if Oliver likes her. And most of all, Felicity is friends with Oliver because she enjoys his company, not because she enjoys staring at him, though it's certainly a plus.

They've gotten close over the course of the past few months, but like any person with a sordid past and dark secrets Felicity keeps them to herself just as Oliver keeps his close. At the present she doesn't mind it – if Oliver ever feels comfortable enough with her to tell the her the whole story of how he got to where he is then she'll be there for him. Until then, she knows it's best if they both stay quiet for now.

Yet, despite becoming relatively close to Oliver, Felicity hasn't told anyone she's his friend.

It wasn't because she was worried she'd accidentally reveal his secret identity out to the world, she can easily lie to her other friends and say Oliver is someone she met at Jitters, but she's not sure if she's ready to introduce him to the rest of her life.

Their first meeting was rather unique, and Oliver's seen a side of Felicity very few people have. She doesn't know how their odd friendship would fare in the face of the real world. Whenever they meet at Jitters they're wrapped in a tiny bubble no one else has access to and it's just them, talking and getting to know each other fifteen minutes at a time. Beyond that . . . Felicity doesn't know what their relationship entails.

Despite all of this, Felicity has no expectations for their friendship. If Oliver decides one day he doesn't want to be friends anymore, she'll respect his decision. And if Felicity's other life – the life which includes being Kord Industries' top IT consultant – can't mesh with Oliver's profession, then she'll undoubtedly pick her career.

Felicity stops walking at the idea of her life without Oliver, without movies and Sunday afternoons and quick cups of coffee in between meetings and clients, and there's suddenly a theoretical emptiness in her heart which feels all too real.

Well . . . Perhaps walking away from Oliver is easier said than done.

Every Monday at exactly 10:30 in the morning Oliver goes to Verdant, a nightclub situated on Chicago's North side. There, Isabel Rochev, owner of Emerald Associates – Oliver's place of employment – meets with her employees to go over appointments and, naturally, to cut her forty percent from their pay. Which, of course, pisses Oliver off to the utmost degree.

Isabel is a mysterious character – she's undoubtedly of Russian origin, but beyond that no one knows anything about her. She's vicious and her icy stare can reduce anyone into a crying mess. Oliver's no stranger to feeling intimidated by Isabel's presence but in the past three years he's been working for Isabel, he knows all the tricks to keep her from getting under his skin.

When Oliver stumbled into the world of high-class prostitution, Isabel was warm and welcoming, making sure Oliver was ready to take on this kind of role. Once he signed on and became her employee, she took the gloves off and didn't waste time in showing her true nature. All the other employees were afraid of Isabel, but Oliver soon learned in order to gain Isabel's respect, you had to have a certain advantage over her. And for Oliver, his advantage was his premiere status as Emerald's Number One Escort.

He's not particularly proud of having the honor, but with it comes certain perks no other escort has, one of which is being able to tell Isabel to back off. Still Oliver has to tread lightly – getting on Isabel's bad side would surely spell his demise if he pushes her too far. There's no doubt in Oliver's mind she has a file on every single one of her associates, and despite using a fake name, Isabel probably knows who Oliver really is. And he can't afford for anyone to know that.

As Oliver steps inside Verdant, he's suddenly reminded of all the nights he spent inside clubs like these, dropping thousands of dollars on expensive champagne just because he could. He misses it – not the partying, but the carefree attitude he'd had. It was easier back then, but if he had known what his future would entail, he would've done a better job of preparing himself for the worst. Of course, had he known he was going to get into prostitution, he definitely would've taken the necessary steps to prevent that from happening.

He doesn't necessarily hate being a prostitute. Compared to most other people – even his own coworkers – Oliver has it easy. He works with high-end clients, which means he's not getting thrown to the wolves. Yet every time he's about to knock on the door of a hotel room, he wants to turn around and run back home, throw all of this away.

Oliver's real name is Oliver Jonas Queen, son of Robert Queen, the former CEO of Queen Consolidated. He'd grown up in Star City and had once lived an extravagant life, filled with an overstuffed trust fund and too many women to count. His world collapsed when his father had a heart attack at sea and died before getting proper aid. Robert had been everything to him, and to not be there when his father died crushed Oliver.

Naturally, he got involved in alcohol, partying and girls, which led to him dropping out of no less than four colleges. In the meantime his mother – Moira Queen – ran QC as CEO. But as CEO, she invested heavily in mortgages which led to the housing collapse in 2007-08. With it, Moira and the Queen family fell to disgrace, QC had to be bailed out and filed for bankruptcy, and the Queen family was smeared all over the papers.

Being a female CEO, Moira was undoubtedly an easy scapegoat despite the fact several other CEOs had been investing in the exact same mortgages. Moira's mistake led to many legal fees, which spiraled into their home being repossessed and their life savings being drained to nothing.

It had been a tough pill to swallow, especially for Oliver and his younger sister, Thea. Much like Moira, they'd grown up in an entirely privileged life, and having to land at the bottom was an unknown experience for them. To make matters worse, eighteen months after the scandal Moira was abruptly taken from her children's lives in a freak accident which had left Oliver with severe injuries. After paying off her debts, funeral expenses, as well as his medical expenses, Oliver realized he was well and truly broke.

With no college degree and zero (actual) work experience, the only thing Oliver had left was his name. And it wasn't enough. Oliver had floated through life because his name was his prized possession, but in the end it failed him. He couldn't rely on the Queen family because there was no Queen family or Queen Consolidated. It vanished into thin air, and Oliver did everything he could to grab onto the remnants of it.

Eventually Oliver accepted being Oliver Queen was no longer an asset, and he would have to actually work in order to survive in the hard world he's suddenly found himself in. Oliver then started using Jonas as his last name, moved to Chicago and stayed away from the public eye as he searched for jobs.

That is, until he stumbled upon prostitution and realized the pay was more than he could ever imagine in his current situation. And that was it.

In many ways it was a blessing and a curse. Oliver has plenty of money now and he doesn't have to go back to school, but what he's doing is illegal and could get him in a lot of trouble. If the media got a wind of this – if his sister found out – he would be wrecked. Prostitution is a temporary solution. He'll find a way to get out of it . . . if he bothers to.

Shaking those thoughts away he moves towards the back where Isabel typically sets shop,she follows a strict schedule and she's never a minute behind. Currently, she's speaking with a female escort, Helena, an equally icy and jaded woman who takes no prisoners. Oliver had spent a few nights with Helena, but it went nothing beyond a typical hookup. She was also a top earner but was incredibly selective in her clients. Isabel occasionally let her snide attitude slide, but Oliver could it tell it irritated Isabel Helena demanded so much from her potential clients.

Patiently waiting his turn, Oliver watches Helena stand up and leave Isabel's makeshift office, swiftly gathering her purse and not bothering to spare Isabel another glance. Someone's upset. As Helena comes closer to him, he smiles in acknowledgment, but she blankly stares at Oliver as she zooms past him. Oh well – it takes a lot for Oliver to get offended, and if Helena was having a bad day then she was allowed to be snippy.

Shrugging Helena's behavior off, he sits down in front of Isabel and promptly takes out wads of cash from his briefcase. While Isabel busies herself with the books, Oliver double checks to see if he brought every payment with him. The past week was a little slow, as several of his regular clients were out of town. Thankfully, he's in a position where he can take several months off, but the world of high-class escorts is fickle. One wrong review and his whole profession can go down the drain.

Once Isabel does her finishing touches, she finally looks up at Oliver. "Thomas. How have you been?"

It still bothers him that of all names he could have chosen he'd picked his (former) best friend's name, but when he'd been asked to give his name he'd panicked and unable to say Oliver had fumbled out Thomas instead. Stuck with it now, he rationalized if it kept his identity in the dark he'd suck it up. "Fine, how are you?"

Isabel manages to produce an artificial smile on her lips, which quickly disintegrates as it undoubtedly hurts her soul to do so. "Perfect. I trust you have all the money?"

She stares at him as Oliver pushes the cash towards her. Her greed irritates Oliver to no end, but without it he wouldn't be getting paid nearly $200,000 a year. "It's all been accounted for."

"Let's not get hasty, Thomas. I'll count again just to be sure." Her thin hands quickly grab onto the cash, and she counts every single bill while she looks at the books beside her. Once Isabel's satisfied, she begins to divide the cash, taking 40 percent away from the entire amount.

Clearing her throat, Isabel glances up at Oliver through her long lashes, her eyes boring into his. "Last week was a bit slow, hmm?"

"A lot of my regulars were out of town."

Eyeing Oliver carefully, she clicks her tongue and leans back against the couch. "And before you know it, suddenly everyone is out of town. We don't ever want that to be a common situation, right?"

If Isabel honestly thinks Oliver's lost his edge, then she has another thing coming. "I can promise you no one's lost interest in me. I make sure it doesn't happen."

"I wouldn't want it any other way." Yeah, because you won't be able to cut 40 percent off my paycheck every week. "But anyway, I need a favor from you."

Favors from Isabel were usually more along the lines of demands rather than requests and there was often no other choice. Internally groaning at the new development, Oliver schools his features and tries to hide his frustration. "Anything for you."

She smiles again, although it creeps Oliver the hell out.

"There's a new male escort who could benefit learning a thing or two from Emerald's most valued escort." Reaching over for her bag, Isabel produces a file and hands it over to Oliver. He opens it up and sees a picture of a handsome guy, but he looks exceptionally young and it sets Oliver on edge. Oliver became an escort at twenty-five, and although he wasn't exactly the most mature person out there, he had seen some shit and learned from it. This new escort – Roy Harper – should dip his toes in something more respectable. But he knows it's not in his place to say anything, and if Roy wants to be an escort then Oliver won't fight him on it.

"I've arranged a meeting between you and Mr. Harper Tuesday. I trust he'll be in good hands?"

Seeing he has no other choice even though he despises training, Oliver grits his teeth and plasters a fake smile on his lips. "Absolutely."

Isabel grins devilishly and it takes every bit of energy to prevent himself from wiping that smirk off her satanic face. Fuck, he really hated Isabel.

Chicago is a lovely city but its moody weather is a pain. Despite living in the city for the past three years, Felicity's bones still haven't gotten used to the cold. Growing up around Las Vegas never prepared her for this kind of weather, and although she never leaves her apartment without a sweater, today ended up being the day the temperature dropped fifteen degrees and brought an onslaught of cold winds.

Windy City indeed.

Kord Industries is located in the Loop - Lake Michigan is not too far out and the Chicago River is only a couple of blocks away, which adds to the cold factor. Felicity's office is situated on the 51st floor, which gives her a gorgeous view, but makes it susceptible for her office to shake when the wind picks up.

It gets a little difficult for Felicity to concentrate when she could very well fly out the window – granted, buildings are made to withstand strong winds but still. She's never been too fond of heights, and she finds any excuse to get out of her office when the shaking windows freak her out.

Take today, for example – Felicity jumped at the opportunity to help out her coworker, Caitlin Snow, even though Felicity has plenty of other projects to work on. They've spent the last fifteen minutes catching up and discussing their weekend instead of working, but Caitlin is a close friend and taking a small break wouldn't hurt anyone. Right?

By the time Felicity joined Kord Industries, Caitlin had already been working there for two years. Caitlin's official title is researcher, but most of her time is spent in the consulting offices rather than the lab. In the past couple of years, Caitlin has become the middleman between R&D and Felicity's office, although she finds any excuse to head back to the lab when it's necessary.

Aside from the secretaries, all other consultants and bosses are male. There's an underlying amount of prejudice against Felicity – as a valedictorian with top honors from MIT, her skills are always the talk of the town. It used to embarrass her, but nowadays she's come to accept that yes, she's a genius and there's nothing wrong with it. Her mother always scolded her for being humble about her talents, which embarrassed Felicity even more, but she's come to appreciate her mother's pestering. She should never be ashamed of who she is, even if her coworkers would love to see her stumble all the way back down.

Naturally, Felicity won't allow that to happen.

And so, having Caitlin around as a friend and trusted coworker helps a lot, especially since her male coworkers always find ways to make her busy in the event they see her not "working." Little do they know, Felicity's mandatory visits to Caitlin's office entail of everything not work related, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Currently, Felicity's perched on her friend's desk and munching on Caitlin's leftover fries from lunch, even though they've gotten a little cold and soggy. "These are disgusting."

Caitlin rolls her eyes and smiles knowingly. "Then don't eat them."

"I can't help it. Whenever you bring them they're so warm and fresh, and then my Spidey senses get all tingly. So by principle I have to eat them."

"Fine, eat all the fries you want. Just don't complain about having to work out two days from now," Caitlin says with a hint of amusement.

Grumbling, Felicity stuffs the remaining cold fries in her mouth as she tries not to think about how many hours she'll have to work out in order to burn all the fat she's just eaten. "Could you make a special formula that burns body fat? I'll happily be your guinea pig."

Shocked at Felicity's suggestion, Caitlin's eyes widen in horror and her mouth hangs open. "I hope you realize how dangerous that is. The probabilities of it going –"

Caitlin's abruptly cut off when her door flies open, causing them to freeze as they realize they've been busted by none other than Hartley Rathaway.

Of all the people who could've dropped in . . .

Hartley was one of those privileged douchebags who believed the world, and by extension his co-workers, owed him everything. He walked the halls of Kord Industries with his nose in the air, and looked down on anyone who didn't meet his standards. Which was practically everyone.

Like Caitlin, Hartley was a researcher who spent half of his time with the consultants. Although he and Caitlin hold the same title, he does everything he can to one-up Caitlin, including demeaning her whenever he gets the chance. Caitlin – bless her – is too mild mannered to put Hartley in his place, but Felicity can't stand to watch her friend get treated like that. Unfortunately, sticking up for Caitlin lands Felicity on Hartley's shit list, which means he will do whatever it takes to bring them down.

But Felicity loves a challenge.

"Well, well, well. What else would you expect – the Wonder Twins are gossiping instead of doing what they're supposed to be doing. Why am I not surprised?" Hartley eyes the two of them, his haughty expression refusing to dissipate.

He's so annoying.

"We were just getting started," Caitlin says, hoping to dispel Hartley from asking further questions. The longer he stays the more suspicious he'll get, and having Hartley hold something over their heads isn't what Felicity had in mind for the rest of the work week.

Clearly not buying Caitlin's explanation, Hartley clicks his tongue and smirks. "Should've known you two weren't useful for anything." Not allowing them to even register his insult, he taps on the doorframe before leaving and sings, "Clock's ticking ladies. Chop-chop!"

Felicity is too burned out to think about how annoying Hartley's interruption was, but Caitlin is getting riled up. "I want a slow and painful death for him."

She sighs. "Ditto."

Mondays are always the worst.

"I'm in the middle of an interrogation. This moron is giving me everything."

Oliver – no, Viktor – looks around the room in confusion. "I d-don't give everything."

Jennifer – right now she's Natasha Romanoff – glances up at him and rolls her eyes. "Look, you can't pull me out of this right now."

"All right, that is it. You have had your fun." Oliver – shit, Viktor – snatches the phone from Natasha and shuts it off. "I am not finished with you, shlyukha."

(He's rather enjoying playing a Russian captor. It's been awhile since he's practiced his Russian, and it appears his client – Jennifer – is enjoying it as well. It's not an everyday occurrence when your escort is well versed in Russian.)

Jennifer – Goddamn it, Natasha, he can't keep forgetting their respective roles – narrows her hazel eyes and smirks. "We'll see about that."

Viktor straightens his back and hungrily eyes Natasha up and down. (At least that's what the script directions said.) "You are very beautiful."

"I'm well aware. Do you have any information you want to tell me or no?"

Viktor laughs an evil Russian laugh, and smiles at Natasha's bravado. "You . . . think you have the upper hand? Vy nichego ne znayete, Black Widow."

Smirking, Natasha boldly responds, "I know that you're hiding four large containers of military grade weaponry near Kekra. And I have people taking it right at this moment."

"Are you sure?" Circling around Natasha, Viktor admires her toned physique and raises a hand to brush his fingertips on her shoulder blades. Her skin is smooth, soft like silk. Natasha stiffens and her breathing increases upon contact. Leaning down to her ear, Viktor hotly whispers, "It appears your information is outdated – again."

Natasha swallows thickly and refuses to look at him in the eye. "You do know your days are numbered. Chekov is moving on you faster than you think."

Viktor continues to circle around her, and eventually stands in front of her, towering over Natasha and letting her know who's the more dominant one. "Another thing I am aware of. But I am also aware that you like to be rather . . . naughty on occasion. "

"Depends on the situation."

"Mm." Looking down at her, Viktor steps closer until he's standing right between her legs, her ankles neatly wrapped around the chair legs in order to prevent her from escaping. Natasha glances up at him, her eyes brimming with intensity. Not deterred, Viktor presses his knees against hers and easily pushes her legs further apart. "Would this be one such situation?"

Her breathing has picked up and a slight flush is beginning to form on her ebony skin. Viktor takes note of this and smirks – he finally has her. "No," she says defiantly.

"All in due time." Viktor gently places his fingertips under her chin, and slightly raises her head so she's at eye level. Well, well – it appears Natasha is not as good of a liar as she pretends to be. Her pupils are dilated and her luscious lips are rosy, ripe for the taking. He gets a sudden impulse to run his thumb on her lower lip and immediately does so, softly smoothing over ebony skin and wondering what they would look like with red lipstick. Natasha keeps very still, but her small breaths warm his finger.

Then the sneaky little minx runs her tongue on his thumb, and swiftly envelops his digit inside his mouth. Fuck. Oliver knows he's roleplaying right now, but damn that feels good. He's definitely looking forward to eating her out in a few minutes.

But suddenly, the sweet sensation is replaced by stinging pain, and Oliver can't help but flinch. His persona momentarily broken, Jennifer's eyes widen in horror. "Oh my God, I didn't mean to –"

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Oliver whispers back. He winks at her to ease her worry and clears his throat, ready to get back in the game. He's had clients who thought sucking his dick entailed chopping it off with their teeth, so having her bite his thumb is tame compared to what he's had to deal with.

She nods, straightening her back and getting back into Natasha's headspace. "Did you like that?" she purrs.

Oliver would immediately answer with a hurried "Oh yes" but Viktor is practiced in the art of seduction. "But not nearly as much as you did."

Raising an eyebrow, Natasha confidentially relaxes in her chair despite being bound. (They've gone off script now, but as long as his client is fine with the changes Oliver supposes he can use a bit of artistic integrity.) "Please. As if you know what I enjoy."

"But I do, don't I?" Viktor tilts his head and examines the dangerous beauty in front of him. "I can see your eyes have gone dark with desire. Your chest rises rapidly in anticipation, and your breathing picks up whenever I'm near." She keeps still but watches him intently, and Viktor takes this as an opportunity to drop down on his knees.

Her eyes widen at his abrupt movements, but Viktor keeps his eyes trained on her, smirking as he sees how she's been thrown off. Scooting closer, Viktor examines the view in front of him – Natasha's a sight to behold with her legs spread far apart, giving him a perfect view of her swollen and wet sex.

And it's just his luck that she's wearing absolutely nothing underneath.

"Blyad," he mutters under this breath. "Did you know this was going to happen?"

"You know I always come prepared for my assignments, Viktor."

(Even though Jennifer is in her early forties, she's got an incredible body, she's confident, and stunningly beautiful. He's going to enjoy taking her for a ride.)

He grins wickedly and keeps his eyes on her as he places his hot hands on her knees. She swallows thickly in anticipation, but Viktor decides to drag it out and instead gently places his palms on her thighs. He begins to softly knead the flesh there, her smooth skin running underneath his fingers like fine silk.

Knowing she's enjoying this, Viktor continues to tease her by simply running his hands over her thighs, getting close to where she wants him the most, but quickly placing his hands elsewhere. Natasha's breathing has gotten shallower, but there's nothing she can do about this – Viktor made sure she's not going anywhere.

Thinking it's about time to stop teasing her, Viktor begins to bunch up her skimpy black dress around her hips. His hands smooth over her toned bum, and his heart skips a beat when she sees Natasha slightly lifting herself so he can remove the offensive clothing out of his way. Good girl.

"You're so ready for me, aren't you?" His mouth waters at the sight in front of him, because damn, she is absolutely soaking and does nothing to hide it. (Oliver's beginning to regret taking Viagra, because his dick is annoyingly hard and it's getting a little bothersome.)

"No," Natasha breathes out.

Viktor's typically not a fan of liars, but in this case he'll make an exception for the enigmatic Black Widow. He's already caught in her web, a willing participant in her devious game. But as always, he does love a challenge.

Grinning devilishly, Viktor bends down and begins to kiss and nip on Natasha's inner thighs. She's got incredible restraint – she's yet to betray how much this is affecting her, but Viktor intends on breaking her.

And he'll savor every moment.

Loosening his tie, Oliver takes a deep breath and inhales the cold Chicago air. It soothes his sweaty and warm skin, and does its best to cleanse him of the naughty things he did a mere fifteen minutes ago. Over to the side, he spots Jennifer exiting the hotel lobby and heading straight for a black Range Rover. Her long legs disappear inside the car, and for a moment he remembers how they were wrapped around his shoulders. Oliver grins at the memory, because he knows she was thoroughly sated, and he gets to take all the credit.

Still, he pays her no mind – as an unspoken rule no escort is supposed to interact with a client unless they have been asked to do so. Besides, it seems Jennifer might be coming back for more, which means he'll have plenty of time to catch up with her then.

Fishing his phone from his pocket, Oliver opens up his messaging app and texts Felicity. Seeing how busy Felicity usually is, he doesn't like to bother her during the day, but he wants to make sure she's not overworking herself.

How's ur day been?

It takes a minute for Felicity to reply, during which Oliver starts to walk towards the bus stop. His phone buzzes with Felicity's reply, and he quickly opens his phone to read the message.

OK. Had to deal with annoying Hartley for a bit but what else is new. Wbu?

Grimacing, Oliver vows if he ever sees Hartley he'll throw him into the Chicago River for bothering Felicity as much as he does. Every single day, without fail, Hartley would annoy Felicity to the point where she would have to call him during work to vent. Oliver hates him as much as Felicity does. No one messes with his . . . friends like that.

fuck Hartley. I can always tell him to back off

I'd rather not have to pick u up from jail just because u want to teach an insufferable jerk a lesson. He's not worth your time. But anyway how was work

He chooses not to press her on Hartley gossip and writes Had a client who wanted to rp as Natasha Romanoff ;)

The bus approaches his stop, so Oliver shoves his phone back inside his pocket and takes out his bus pass. As Oliver steps inside and swipes the card, he feels his phone buzz three times in quick succession. He sits down and takes out his phone, seeing Felicity sent three messages in a row.

That sounds like fun

I mean it sounds like fun to pretend to be Natasha Romanoff.

I'm so screwed aren't I?

Oliver can't help but laugh – this was so Felicity. Sensing an opportunity to tease her, he quickly types a message and hits "Send."

Wait u want me to screw u?

She responds immediately, and Oliver can only imagine the horrified look on her face.

Omg do NOT put words in my mouth

Grinning, Oliver begins to type his reply when he notices a pretty woman staring at him. He narrows his eyes and slightly tips his head toward her, which causes the woman to blush and look away. Sometimes it was embarrassingly easy to play the part of a charming devil.

Take all the fun away won't u. Fine. I promise not 2 do that again.

Do you solemnly swear?

Uh yeah isn't that what i said

The bus is getting a fuller now, as people are trying to escape the cold wind and head to safety. He briefly glances outside and admires the tall buildings until his phone buzzes again. An older lady sitting near him eyes him with annoyance, but he pays her no mind.

Nv. You clearly haven't brushed up on your hp history.

Frowning, Oliver tries to think if he remembers what HP is, but fails and decides to suffer Felicity's judgment.

What is hp history

You're a lost cause Oliver. gotta go back to work. Talk to you later?

Sad that he and Felicity can't talk any longer, he sighs quietly and types another response.

Sure. Knock em dead.

Thanks :)

He smiles and resumes staring out the rain-splattered windows. Contrary to popular belief, it seems like Mondays are occasionally bearable.

A/N #2: I apologize if the Russian is 100% wrong since I relied on Google for it. And if you have the time please check out my other WIP, "This is the Way You'll Remember Me." It's a Pride and Prejudice Olicity AU. I'll definitely be focusing on it a lot more now that my schedule has significantly cleared up. :) Thank you for reading!