Ownership Disclaimer: Glee – the real programme? Get outta here, no unfortunately, not mine, yet! {but I have s1 to s4 on legit dvd}. Ownership and recognition where it's due, and… what's mine is mine too.
A true Gleek, will recognize which words are mine and see how I've played them into this story. BTW: Season 5 spoilers.
Warning: Rated M. FxF, FxM, MxM. Klaine moosh and suggested …
Trigger Warning: Not rape, it's just racy. But yeah, inappropriate workplace scenarios. This is a Santana, Safety Dance. Somewhat Dantana.

If you want to review, go for it, knock your socks off, be nice. I've decided to allow for a lapse in correcting the apostrophe s business for ownership. So this should be the only quality slip in my work. I'm really pleased that so many are interested and respect what I'm only able to do, thanks to the bigger good Man above.

Thank you: To my little Sister for reading and cooking for me. I love you Baby!Gurl. Also to Marla's Lost, a fellow excellent author from this great fan fic land. I wonder if this chapter helps your pondering question of 'him'. And for everyone else, mwah.

BTW: The mentioned character is an OC of mine, and this happens obviously, way before my first story of him happens. If you like this story and chapter, you should pop to my profile and look for him being in his first appearance, that I wrote in my earlier days of being here in fan fic land.

~ Mr Gilder ~

~ o ~

Rachel sits in the window of the café, basking in the morning sunshine, waiting for Jeff. Every Thursday, for the last four weeks they've been enjoying their breakfast dates. This suits her fine because she has no classes on a Thursday, and for Jeff, he has no meetings till after 1pm.

Checking her watch, she's been waiting fifteen minutes, that makes him five minutes late. As she checks her phone he walks through the café door. They smile wide and wave to each other.

"I ordered for you, I hope you don't mind. They'll have our breakfast brought out to us soon. I told them to start cooking as soon as you arrived." A kiss to her cheek, she kisses him back. Having taken his coat off, he scrunches it up and puts it behind him. "We're having poached eggs today on toasted grain bread, it's their specialty of the day." She claps her hands with excitement. " I've ordered you fresh squeezed grapefruit juice. I watched them squeeze it, so we're guaranteed no pips. And then I asked them to use the I can't believe it's not butter, not the margarine, I know you don't like the margarine and I think it will be better for you than butter."

Their order is brought out. "I also asked them to use warmed plates, that way we don't get a partial hot to cool dish. Isn't it a lovely day today?"

He adds a little salt and pepper to his egg, some ketchup and mustard. Spreading the I can't believe it's not butter on his toast, cutting and eating, smiling at her in between mouthfuls and noting that despite all her chatter, she never drops a piece of food or spittle.

Having finally finished his breakfast, he realizes that he's zoned out to what she's been saying and is sitting waiting for a reply.

"Jeff, what do you think about it all?"

"I'm sorry Rachel, what were you saying?"

"I said that Santana has kissed me twice now, and I'm not happy about it. I also said that she is working strange hours for the bakery, doing her studies and partying too late into the night. It's all very well, but she isn't really contributing much to the cost of living. She owes a bit too much rent. The other week she gave me a sufficient amount, and she thought it would be enough till the end of the month, but really she was already behind and I'm finding her … let's say her attitude leaves a lot to be desired. Although …."

"Rachel, …" Choosing a quick interruption, "I have some bad news then." He holds her hands still and pats them, eventually she notices his body language with her and stops.

As he talks, she listens intently. Her face morphs to one of complete worry, concern and eventually tears fall. He gathers her into his arms to console her. Tidying her hair to behind her ears, listening to her hiccuped words, said quietly and without proper thought of what she's saying.

He smiles at how concerned she is about a troublesome friend, a valued adopted sister. A kiss to her forehead, she sniffs and cuddles into his neck. Her tears subsiding, her lungs tired, her mind wanting rest, she breathes in his morning shower scent and sighs.

Gently rubbing circles on her back and blending to a tight embrace, he rests his chin on her and she rests with him. He starts to think she's falling asleep, he sighs.

"It will work out Rachel, everything will be fine, I promise you." She doesn't reply with words, she just hugs him tighter. Jeff, her sounding board, her rock.

And what had Jeff told her, to get her to this state? He told her about how he remembers where he'd seen Santana, a little while before they started dating.

He told her how he'd only met Santana a few times before then, and she had been in costume for the Sectional's, Regional's and once they'd been at the same National's for their Glee competitions, her in the Troubletones and the New Directions, him when he was with The Warblers.

He informed her that he'd been to a party, there had been call girls, hookers. He hadn't been expecting them and had left as soon as he realized he was in a compromising situation, and he hadn't been to another party since. He loves Rachel and promises that he hadn't hooked up, he hadn't had a casual fling, in fact he hasn't had an intimate moment with a sweet lovely lady for gosh, gee, what year is it?

So now Rachel is aware of Santana's job with Danni, she has been so hypocritical and that's what hurts Rachel as well. Despite all she'd said and done about Brodie, Santana is involved in the same horrible career.

Knowing how much she'd been earning, Santana hasn't been paying her way around the apartment, and that is upsetting. It would be better if she'd thrown the money out, she must be saving it for something.

When she'd graduated Santana's mother had given her quite an amount of money. She had saved every spare penny since Santana was little.

Jeff tells Rachel that together, with Blaine and Kurt, roping Quinn, Mercedes, Sam and Artie in, heck they'll even fly Tina up and call an intervention.

Since Rachel's health scare, Blaine and Kurt having their own concerns after the Eli C debacle and Artie actually having contracted Chlamydia, they're now worried more for Santana. Worried about her health, their health, who Santana has been associating with, and wondering if there is also drugs involved.

It had started out a beautiful Thursday, it had turned into quite a mini-drama, hopefully not a nightmare.

~ o ~

Ignoring her third eye, motivated now by a wayward heart string being pulled and a certain amount of blackmail, Santana tried his number one more time.

As the day progressed along, more attempts at calling him continued. Not expecting him to be playing games, her heart was pounding along with concern. She didn't want any of this, anymore. She zipped up her boots and pressed the end call button.

Rachel would be home soon and Santana didn't have any rent money to give her, so there was motivation to not be home. Blaine was at classes for Nyada, not due back till much later tonight. As for Kurt, he was doing a double shift at the diner.

The clock chimed the hour, she keyed in a desperate bargaining card, one she had no intention of following through with, but if this didn't get to him, what would.

toGrumbles: Danni said you wanted to see me. I've been ringing you all day, no answer. You gave me this problem, you have the deck of cards, but I have one card up my sleeve, don't make me play it.

She finishes cleaning the apartment, if she can't pay money, she'll pay with house cleaning. She expects an argument from Rachel and Kurt, but until she forces a payment cheque from the Bakery Boss lady, currently she has no cash.

toGrumbles: I won't play this game tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll play the card.

Grabbing the bag of rubbish and walking to the apartment door, she turns to survey the room for tell tale signs of neglect. There are none, she knows how to clean house. Sliding the heavy door open, an escaped pet squirrel scurries up the stairs, Santana jumps back in and hurries the door shut. She would have slammed it, if it were remotely possible.

She counts to twenty, breathing in and out carefully, then tries again.

As the elevator reaches the ground floor, the inside polished silver doors open to let her out. She quickly puts her cleaning products into the rubbish bag and does it back up.

She walks to Henry the sometimes doorman, sometimes building officer, sometimes go to person. "Our chute isn't working on our floor, again. Can you please look at that?"

"Good afternoon to you too Miss Santana." He taps his head, where a hat should sit. "I'll make a note of that and will fix it soon."

He means well, but she knows he'll forget about it. Life has been very cruel to him, his wife having died so tragically last year, he's been in a state of shock and his own mix of reality.

Any way, as she shrugs, it does work. She just wanted to use the rubbish bag to hide evidence of her cleaning products for the elevator.

Before leaving the lobby she checks her phone, still no message or call.

Santana walks at a pace to allow thoughts to be sorted. Thankfully the weather is fresh and fair, unlike the warmer morning.

So far he'd been very nice and sweet. She knew he'd be miffed that she left the money behind, but she won't take it. If life consisted of card games, that was always her winning hand, to leave the money behind. To take it would be playing their game and would make her a prostitute, hooker. She's much too proud for that title.

He'd been her only client. Her leaving the money is also a quality that he liked about her, and he told her in no uncertain terms, it turned him on.

The last time, he told her he was falling for her. She pried his grip from her wrist, looked him straight in the eyes, flipping from one to the other, and confidently told him that this was her last hurrah, she was out and not coming back. He seemed to accept, and hugged her tight.

Before descending the stairs to the subway, her phone vibrates an incoming message.

fromGrumbles: Please meet me, I won't keep you long? {winking face}

toGrumbles: Where? When?

fromGrumbles: As soon as, please? At that building, just tell them your name at reception, they'll let you in. I'm staying here, house sitting while the owner is away.

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, she texts back she's on her way and he can pay for her cab.

She doesn't go down to the subway, she hails the cab to near Maddison Square Garden.

To the driver, "When you get there, give me a moment to go get your fare. He can pay for this." The driver laughs and smiles, and adds twenty dollars on the tab.

The ride is shorter than she expected, she also didn't expect someone to be there to greet her cab when it pulled up. Opening her door, the building officer puts a hand out for her to take. He pays the driver and guides her into the building.

"Lovely day Miss?"

"Yes, it is. I'm …."

"I know who you are Miss, he showed me a photo of you."

This guyz not rude, but Santana is pleasantly surprised about some cocky attitude of his.

"I'm the owner's butler, they're away and he doesn't like me up there with him. I'll take you as far as when the elevator opens on the floor." Spoken all so matter-of-factly, Santana imagines what living here would be like.

It would be a world different to how she's ever lived. It would be like she were Pretty Woman.

Finally the elevator reaches the floor, she notes it's the penthouse floor. What the Heaven's?

He comes over greeting her with open arms and a note for the butler.

"You made it, I'm so glad and happy that you did."

"Well I'm not staying for long, so make the most of it." She's a little in awe of her surrounds, the wall of glass clearly showing she's high up from the street of New York. "Your friends are very fortunate."

"Would you like a drink? And yes they are, they've worked very hard to get to here." He pours her a white wine and a vodka for himself. He hands it to her and watches as she takes in the rest of the view and his floor.

Coming to the entertainment corner she looks at the size of the video screen, the couches and chairs to recline and enjoy a show with. She picks up a photo alongside the cd stacker. "Wow is this the owner? Isn't that …." The name gets stuck in her throat, she's beginning to hope she's in that movie and that she could be the actress Julia Roberts.

"That's actually not the owner, that's the owner's ex-boyfriend." Delight at her honest approach to his situation, his attempt at a farce. Knowing he won't be able to keep his secret much longer.

He swirls the ice cubes in his glass and watches her intently, finding his reality clashing with hers, hoping that when the penny drops, she won't disappear.

"Here, let me put some music on for you." He purposely chooses a dvd of his last concert, from the other week. One that he knows he gave her tickets to.

Santana stands looking down on the world, from up on high. The music is playing in the background and she recognizes the song from the concert she'd attended, without him. He hadn't been able to attend, work commitments.

Her seat was lousy, too far from the stage to clearly see the singer, Scott Thomas. The audio had been good, the music had been great, it would have been even better if they could have had cameras on him and screens around to see him better. Too far to see the dancers and the band.

She enjoyed herself though, who wouldn't. She took Rachel along with her, Rachel is a huge Scott Thomas fan. Rachel was beside herself with excitement, and found it hard to believe Santana managed to get tickets to this concert, when all the tickets were sold out a year ago.

Finishing her wine, she hands the glass to him. As he reaches to take it, over his left shoulder is Scott Thomas on the screen. The screen pauses as Santana looks passed him, to it.

He crosses imaginary fingers, hoping he'd paused the dvd in a spot that shows him.

Santana looks at him and back at the screen, slowly back to him and slowly … back … to … the screen.

She raises her hand and points a finger to the screen and to him. "You look just like him, without the makeup."

He looks at his feet and then back up to her with a worrying smile. He turns his head gently, to a pose he's had to hold for so many photo shoots.

He ruffles his hair to a typical style for the guy behind him, on the screen. Looks at her and can't help from smiling, but a little worry crosses his face, as the penny slowly drops.

"Oh my God!" She doesn't stumble, she doesn't falter being herself.

That's what he loves about her, the whole time they've been dating, she's treated him like a normal person. Hiding behind makeup is all very well, but a devoted fan would know what he looks like, without the makeup.

Santana isn't an obsessed fan. He trusts that she'll still treat him as a regular person, not the persona character that he plays.

"Is this some sick joke?"

"No, this is real."

She sits on a bar stool, he stands alongside her, reaching around to hold her and be certain she's still there and not going to disappear or faint.

Other than her eyes checking him over, she's still Santana, she's still with him. She doesn't feel like she's about to take flight.

"Wait, I don't understand. You could have any groupie in the world, you could be screwing your brains out, but you had me."

"Yes, I had you."

"No, but you didn't have me, have me. I don't understand, why, what's wrong with me that you wouldn't have me?"

"I'm me, Santana. It's widely reported I'm gay."

"But, then why hire me and not have sex with me? Why? Oh my God, I don't understand!"

She doesn't feel a fool, but he's been playing her. She feels more used now, putting her in compromising positions and never having sex with her. Leaving money to appear paying for her services, but no real services were rendered.

~ o ~

More kute author notes: This story, has flabberghasted so many. Nearly 1,000 views since uploading. I love you all, I hope you're all happy enough. It's currently nearly 3am where I am. A final treat for the last day of your April 2014. So I'm really beat, and if there are obvious errors, {cross fingers there aren't} I'll tidy them up later. mwah again. And if you didn't read the blurb up above, if you would like some more of Scott, he is my darling OC, his first appearance in my stories you'll find in my profile page and list of stories down the bottom. Again, for 'him', 'cause I love 'him' so much, I'll do a compilation - later baby!