A/N: This story is the result of a challenge between Onesimus and Batwings79. A recent story over at LJ (CE Enterprises by bsg_aussiegirl) written for their recent Battleships Challenge - prompted Batwings79 to say that the only thing missing from that story was a smartphone going off with the theme from Downtown Abbey as the ringtone. This resulted in a discussion of what songs would Elsie and Charles have as their ringtones for each other. And WHAM! The plot bunnies started mating with dust bunnies and the Ringtone Challenge was born!

Criteria for the Challenge:

1) Story can be set in any time period from 1890 - present

2) Must use at least 3 phrases/sentences from at least 2 of the songs mentioned in the PM exchange - one of which must be from the other person's list

3) Must include a 'scene of seduction' with M-ness a must since it is so much fun to read and write

4) No chapter or word restrictions (although we seem to have settled on 3 chapters needed to setup the seduction scene and close the story.

This story is definitely AU but I hope that it's not too OOC…at least for our two main characters. I hope that you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Ringtones? What's a ringtone?

Chapter 1 – Venus in Blue Jeans by Bobby Vee

For the life of him, Charles Carson could not figure out why he let her talk him into this. His newly renovated townhouse overrun with…young people! He shuddered as he watched his colleagues walking from room to room with ladders and drop cloths and dripping buckets of paint. If there was so much as a single drop of paint anywhere on his beautiful hardwood floors, Elsie Hughes was going to pay.

When he first decided he needed to move into London proper so he could be closer to the office and better able to handle any crises that might be dealt the company, it was she who recommended Daisy Robinson as an estate agent. Turned out that Ms. Robinson was a shrewd business woman and was not only able to get this Edwardian townhouse for a reasonable price, she talked the sellers into completing all of the renovations as part of the deal. Charles only had to tackle the finish work such as the interior painting.

As the purchase of the townhouse had gone so smoothly, he only hesitated a moment when Ms. Hughes suggested this arrangement – having his colleagues over for…what did she call it? Oh yes, a paint party. Now that they were here he was absolutely certain this was a bad idea. He was standing in the middle of his parlor watching William Mason climb a ladder with a loaded paint brush in one hand and his cell phone glued to his ear with the other when he heard the doorbell ring. He opened the door to find Elsie Hughes standing there holding two lattes as she struggled with her oversized purse.

"Here, hold these," she said shoving the two cups into his hands. She finally retrieved her smartphone and slipped it into the back pocket of her trousers while she pulled the zipper closed on her purse and slung it over her shoulder. She reached over and turned one of the cups in his hand to read something scrawled on the side and then took the other one from him. "That one's yours," she said pointing to the cup that she had left with him, "It's a caramel macchiato…you'll like it."

He didn't know why she insisted that he try these silly coffee drinks. She knew perfectly well that he didn't like change and would have preferred for her to have brought him a black tea with two sugars and a splash of milk.

"It's about time you got here, they're out of control and they're destroying my house!" he exclaimed.

"I'm sure they're not destroying your house," she said with a heavy sigh as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Well they're certainly not paying attention to what they're doing," he said testily. They all have a cell phone or one of those pad-thingies that they are constantly talking or typing on."

"Texting…when they're typing on their phones or think pads, it's called texting," she said in response to his raised eyebrows.

"I don't care what it's called, between that and the constant beeps, rings and songs bursting forth on the phones…"

"Ringtones," she said flatly.

"Ringtones? What's a ringtone?" he asked with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Ringtones are those little songs and ditties that play when someone rings your cell phone," she replied. "Don't you have any ringtones set on your cell phone."

"I don't think so," he said, "it just rings and I answer it."

"Well, you can set separate ringtones for everyone in your contact list and then you can tell by the song that plays who's calling you."

"That must be why O'Brien's phone has played a different tune every time her phone has rung this morning," he said ponderingly.

"I could help you download and set some up in your cell phone if you'd like," she offered trying to stay on Carson's good side.

"What I'd like is to get this paint business finished up and all of these people out of my house!" he said evenly.

Just then, John Bates came up to them and said that most of the rooms had small crews that were tackling the walls and the trim but they'd not had any extra hands to paint the trim around the dormer and the windows in the parlor.

"I think that Mr. Carson and I can tackle that," said Elsie looking over at Charles. "What say we put these lattes in the kitchen and find a couple of paintbrushes.

"If it will get everyone out of here that much quicker," he grumbled and followed her to the kitchen.

She had just turned the corner when Thomas Barrow came flying through the doorway and ran directly into Elsie dumping her latte down the front of her sweater.

"Mr. Barrow," said Charles in his deepest, most solemn tone of voice. "You will apologize to Ms. Hughes."

"What for?" Thomas asked sarcastically, "not my fault she wasn't watchin' where she was going."

"You will apologize or you will leave," said Charles.

"It's alright, Carson," said Elsie trying to diffuse the situation and still hang onto Thomas as a working pair of hands. "Maybe we should both be a little more careful. I'm sure this will wash out."

"Hmph!" grunted Thomas as he shrugged his shoulders and continued on his way.

"That's cashmere," observed Charles, "and it won't wash out unless you put it down to soak right away. Come with me." He led her upstairs to the master bedroom and started rummaging around in the back of his closet. "Here, this will have to do." He handed her one of his dress shirts and pointed towards the bathroom. "You can change in there and put your sweater down to soak in the sink."

"But this is one of your dress shirts," she said quietly, surprised at his solicitous behavior. This was not the Charles Carson that bellowed from his office and strode imperiously around the halls when things didn't go his way.

"I lost the buttons on one of the cuffs and never got around to mending it. You can't hurt it and now you won't have to worry about getting paint on your sweater either." He shooed her towards the bathroom as he stepped into the hallway and closed the bedroom door.

He located a rickety looking step ladder along with a paint tray holding the white semi-gloss for the trim and two paintbrushes. He was just setting up in the parlor when she walked through the archway. He wasn't sure exactly why but his breath caught in his chest at the sight of her.

His dress shirt dwarfed her so she'd rolled up the sleeves and tied the shirttails around her waist; accentuating her tiny waistline and the flair of her hips in the tight blue jeans she was wearing. His eyes were drawn to the open buttons at the top of the shirt which showed a significant amount of bare skin. As his eyes drifted down, he noticed how the material clung and accentuated the swell of her breasts. She must have removed her bra and put it down to soak as well. She'd pulled her hair back with a bandeau which only contributed to her youthful appearance.

Charles stood slack-jawed as his mind tried to put into words…Venus, that was it! A Venus in blue jeans…Mona Lisa in a pony-tail…at that moment she was a walking, talking work of art…she walked right in and stole his heart.

"What?! I can't have paint on my nose yet," she laughed, "we haven't even started!"

The sound of her voice brought Charles out of his reverie. "No, we haven't started yet and I'm not sure how much we'll be able to accomplish. This step ladder doesn't look as though it's up to the task."

"Well, let's do what we can reach the floor and then we'll deal with the step ladder," she said.

Charles could reach the tops of the bay windows and the side window next to the front door and soon they'd established a routine whereby she stood just in front of him and painted the bottom sills and halfway up the window trim where he would pick it up and finish off the tops of the windows. Charles enjoyed the proximity that this brought them, he would steal small glances down at the top of her head and very occasionally he caught a glimpse of her cleavage when she was reaching up to paint the side rails.

There was just one problem with the rhythm they'd established…even Charles couldn't reach the dormer windows above the front door.

Looking at the step ladder Elsie said, "Sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings but I really don't think that step ladder will hold your weight." Charles nodded in agreement. "Why don't you steady the ladder and I'll climb up and paint the dormers?"

"You're certain?" he asked.

"I'd feel safe if you were holding the ladder," she said coyly, smiling up at him. Charles felt butterflies in his stomach as he looked down into her eyes. In all his experiences with women…which he had to admit were likely not as extensive as those of his younger colleagues…he'd never run across a woman who made him feel the way that Elsie Hughes did right this moment.

"R…right," he stammered blushing slightly. "Let's get your paintbrush loaded." He took the brush from her and dipped it into the paint tray. He felt tingles run up his arm when her fingers brushed against his as she took the paintbrush from him.

She climbed up the ladder and it started to sway just as soon as she got into position to reach out with her paintbrush. Charles tried holding the ladder from the side but it still tended to lurch and sway with her every move. He eventually found that the best position for holding the ladder was to stand directly behind her at the foot and hold onto both rails.

This put him in a position to be at eye-level with her pert bottom enhanced by those tight blue jeans. And then there was her scent…spicy with a slightly musky overtone. He didn't realize that he'd groaned aloud as he closed his eyes until he heard her voice, "Are you alright Mr. Carson?"

"I'm fine…um…I just remembered something that I forgot to do before I left the office yesterday," he covered quickly. The sudden rush of adrenalin at the realization that she'd heard his groan aroused him even more and he found himself counting figures and trying to think of everything but her in his efforts to not embarrass himself when he stood up straight.

Without warning, she stepped down a rung and her bottom brushed against his cheek. His knee-jerk reaction was to let go of the ladder and take a step back but this allowed the ladder to wobble and Elsie started to fall backwards. He caught her against his chest and as he lowered her to the floor that delicious bottom of hers brushed against his groin and suddenly he was standing to attention…in more ways than one. She started to turn in his arms but jerked away from him when Anna, John, Sarah and Thomas came into the room.

"All the rooms have paint on the walls that matches the list that you gave us, Mr. Carson," said John, "and with the trim in here painted, all the rooms are now complete." The rest of them cheered as William and Daisy joined the group.

"What say we adjourn down to the pub for a pint!" shouted Thomas.

"Here, here," said the rest of the group as they began to gather their belongings and head for the front door. "You coming, Mr. Carson?" asked William as he helped Daisy with her coat.

"I think not, Master William," said Carson formally, "you don't need an old fuddy-duddy hanging about and besides, all that loud music gets on my nerves. You go along and have a good time, I'll see you in the office on Monday."

"Right-oh!" exclaimed William as he and Daisy walked out the door.

Charles turned to Elsie and helped her into her coat. "Just charge it to the company account and I'll settle up on Monday," he said as he held out her purse.

"Are you sure you won't come along, just for a little while?" she asked quietly. "You'll be missed."

"I think not," he replied wondering if she would miss his presence. "Good-night Ms. Hughes…Elsie."

He closed the door behind her and went to inspect the house. He was quite surprised to find that each of the rooms had indeed been painted the appropriate color and there was not a drop of paint anywhere on his wood floors. He had to admit that they had done an excellent job.

He returned to the kitchen and started going through the few boxes he'd brought over in his car. The furniture wasn't due to arrive until Tuesday and he'd boxed up some odds and ends to try and make his first few nights more comfortable. He managed to find his good corkscrew, a bottle of merlot and the crystal wine glasses. Sitting on the kitchen counter, he sipped his wine and enjoyed the peace and quiet of an empty house.

His thoughts turned slowly to Ms. Hughes…Elsie as he now thought of her. In the office she was always so prim and proper, wearing skirts of the appropriate length and never, ever wearing trousers. Her hair was always pinned up on top of her head, today was the first time he'd ever seen her with her hair down. He wondered why he never saw this side of her but realized that it was because he'd never seen her outside the office before. He always turned down their invitations to go down to the pub after work and he rarely attended office parties. When he did, he never stayed for more than half an hour or so. He could almost kick himself now that he realized that he might have gotten to know her better at some of these outings.

He was slowly reliving the memory of holding her against his chest and the smell of her as she slid down his body. He was so lost in his own fantasies that he almost didn't hear the doorbell ring the second time around...