A/N: This is a story based on my one-shot, The Business, written over a year ago, that you may find onmy profile but you don't need to read it to understand this one. It's very similar, but this will be slightly different. This story will probably be 5-6 chapters long, and I'll try to update as regularly as I can, but we'll see. I was never going to continue it, but I've had so many requests that I decided to work on it. I suggest you keep your mind open before venturing into this little scenario. ;) Hope it won't disappoint! Thanks Terrie for editing this so quickly! Would absolutely love to know your thoughts.

Disclaimer: I don't own Downton Abbey.

The Business by fuzzydream

I.

Anna smoothed her skirt as she waited for the lift to reach the seventh floor. She felt a little nervous, as she usually did whenever she met a client for the first time. She had no idea about what to expect, really. She rarely had any information before she met the man in question, and that made her uncomfortable. But she knew her way around, thankfully, and that was enough for now.

She only knew this man in particular was a businessman from Ireland, so she supposed he couldn't be very young and she had mixed emotions about that; young men were careless and insisting, whilst older men could be a little more selfish, for some reason. Most of her regular clients were older, though; she wasn't sure how that happened, but she knew she made more money than most people her age. Not many young men could afford her.

She was dressed to impress tonight: a black satin skirt that reached her mid-thigh and a light pink blouse with a frilly collar. Her heels were high, but not too high - she didn't know how tall this man was. Anyone would simply think she was on her way to a party, and nothing more than that. If only they knew the truth.

Seventh floor.

The feminine, monotone voice announced, and Anna turned around, looking at her reflexion in the doors of the lift. She opted to wear her long hair loose tonight. She closed her eyes for a second, only a second, and when the doors opened, she had already left Anna Smith behind.

As she stepped into the corridor, she took a look in both directions… room 718… she turned left. The hotel was one of London's best, and surprisingly she had never been here before. It looked expensive, classic and beautiful. It was silent, but then it was quite late already, especially for a weekday. As she turned the corner, however, she took notice of a man walking in her direction, and he seemed to almost nod to her; his blue eyes did not make her feel very comfortable, and soon he turned the corner as well. She stopped in front of the door, looked briefly to one side and then the other, and knocked.

And waited.

She adjusted her bag slightly, and was attentive to the sound of steps coming from inside the room. She frowned at why it was taking him so long, but gave it no further thought. Before long, she could hear the door being unlocked, and then it was finally open.

A man that looked to be in his early forties, with his dark hair slightly disheveled, he had what looked like kind eyes, and he seemed almost embarrassed to find her there - she smiled, hoping to make him a little more comfortable.

"John Bates?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. John Bates smiled and held his hand out, a little awkwardly. It was rather endearing. Anna chuckled and took it. "June, right?" Anna nodded, and he motioned for her to come in. "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting company."

"That's alright," she said, knowing that she was supposed to be a surprise for him tonight. The room is classic, big and quite nice. Possibly the nicest she had ever been so far. "You've got quite a room here."

She walked further into the room, noticing the big bed in the middle of it, and took a deep breath. She could feel John's eyes watching her and turned to look at him, still standing near the narrow corridor that led to the door.

"You're not very used to this, are you?" Anna asked softly, her eyes twinkling at him. The first buttons of his white shirt were unbuttoned, and he ran a hand through his hair.

"No, actually," he admitted. There was no ring on his left hand. "Would you like a drink?"

Anna nodded; why not? She walked towards the not so small table that held all the bottles of alcohol, and he met her halfway.

"Would you like some wine?" he offered, and Anna nodded. "I'm not much of a drinker these days. I don't know why they are offering me so much," he motioned to the large selection of bottles. "Amazing what people do to try to be your business associate."

Anna chuckled. "Don't I know it?"

John laughed. "I suppose you do," he said, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows to open the wine. She left her bag over on the table, and decided it was getting a little warm here. She walked around the bedroom, stopping by the window. There was a lovely view of Canary Wharf from here. A little off the city historic centre, but lovely as well. London still had that power of looking hopeful to her. As if all the problems could be erased and all her dreams could come true. She tried not to ponder on that too much. She was working. Anna Smith had no space here.

"Did it work? Your possible business associate's technique?" she enquired.

"Perhaps. I haven't decided yet," he told her. "And if it does, I don't think it'll be because of booze or fun."

Anna laughed. "The soul of business is in marketing."

"It is, and sometimes that's an unfortunate fact."

She felt John's presence behind her and turned around, accepting a glass of wine. He had lovely eyes, she noticed as she sipped the red wine. It tasted a little earthy for her, but it wasn't bad at all. She smiled at him.

"If you don't mind me saying, you don't sound Irish," Anna said conversationally.

John laughed. "I'm not. I come from Ireland, but I was born in London. I merely work in Ireland."

"But you live there as well," she said, trying to know a little of him.

"I suppose. I live anywhere the company needs me to," he added. "You don't look like a June."

Anna nearly choked on her wine, decided to let the glass rest on top of a cabinet. Of all the questions she expected, that wasn't it. "Don't I?"

John laughed. "No. I don't know much about you, but your name isn't June," he said simply. Anna said nothing. "I won't bother you, I promise. I'll just not calling you anything. I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have much experience with..."

His voice faltered, and she decided to spare him of any embarrassment. "Prostitutes? That's quite alright," she said honestly. "Men like you make me feel as if hope isn't lost, after all."

"Really? Interesting point of view," he nodded. "I married young. And I was married for many years. So I never really went to that side of... Things."

Anna played with her earring distractedly, looking up at him. "See? Hope isn't completely lost."

His glass joined hers on the cabinet.

"I can manage."

He was tentatively close to her.

"I'm sure you can," she breathed.

They stared at each other for a moment, and she wondered if he would do anything, or if she was the one who would have to make a move. His eyes were dark and his cologne smelled great. In the end, she wasn't sure who moved first, but she was glad they did. His kiss was slow and slightly rough, but she liked it. Her eyes closed as she molded herself to him, his hands slipping around her waist and pulling her closer. They didn't speak, but one of them moaned. She started unbuttoning his shirt, and his hands traveled down and down, squeezing at just the right places. He could definitely manage.

It was all very fast, or so she felt it was, really. Before long, they were both undressed, and she was completely naked save for her earrings and bracelet. She moved tentatively beneath him as he reached for one of the glistening packages on the bedside table, and she watched as he sat back on his legs to put it on himself. His hands brought her closer by her hips, almost possessively so, and she felt an unfamiliar thrill run through her body before he knelt in front of her and covered her body with his. She gasped when he entered her, and she felt herself stretching to accommodate his size. It was a little strange but exciting too; when she looked back at him, she felt different. When he gave her a fervent kiss, she felt like herself. When he moved against her, filling all the right places again and again, she lost herself.

Much later, when she came back from the bathroom, as naked as the day she was born, she took her jewelry off and joined him for a blissful sleep; she had been paid for the night, after all. But even if he hadn't asked her to stay, she would have.

He ordered room service before she was even properly awake the next morning, and she found the bed surprisingly welcoming, even with the sun hitting her naked body. They had breakfast in bed, slowly, neither with much hurry - much slower than they should have, really. She had nowhere to be that morning, but she had never stayed for breakfast before. It was a rule she didn't think much about, but only now it was broken.

He had a plane to catch, he later told her, but only in a couple of hours. His eyes were kind and he asked her simple questions - where was she born, as he noticed her accent, if she liked living in London. It was surprisingly easy to make small talk with him. Much more than it should be, really.

Breakfast in bed didn't seem like the best choice after all - because she couldn't resist kissing him again, eager to take the sleep out of his eyes, and she couldn't resist touching him again, feeling giddy at the response he gave her. She couldn't even tell exactly how it happened, but she learned that she loved the feeling of him beneath her, of his lips on her nipples and his hands bringing her closer with each thrust.

But time was a precious thing, and soon she did have to leave. He called a taxi for her, and walked her to his door, but not before insisting she gave him her number - it was against the rules too, but she picked one of the cards she had and wrote her number on the back of it. She didn't want anyone else dealing with John. She could do it.

He kissed her before she left and he was still looking at her when she gave him a look before turning on the corner of the corridor. Perhaps she would never see him again. Perhaps he would call next week.

By the time she reached the lift, Anna was coming to her senses. She couldn't remember ever having such fun in a night of work, and she couldn't remember ever feeling the way he made her feel. He was different, she quickly decided.

But more importantly, he made her feel different.

And when she stared at her reflexion in the golden doors of the lift, she was afraid it wasn't the same reflexion she had seen before meeting him.