Gold's pov :) enjoy. Still T for nudity.
-RL

It had been a long day. All he wanted to do now was get some sleep. He reached into the depths of his pocket, pulling out his wallet and other scraps of paper that found their way into his pocket. Deeper inside was his phone. Empty and idle as always. He tossed the piece of junk on the bed and started removing his shoes. He had become accustomed to his loneliness, and on a hard day like this, he appreciated the monotonous environment of his home. But, every once in a while, he'd wished that he could come home to a house filled with mouthwatering smells of a homecooked meal and a beautiful woman who was glad to see him.

He was brought out of his absurd fantasy of obtainable things by the vroom vroom sound of his phone. It was on vibrate. He hated the annoying siren ringtone of his phone when it wasn't. Wearily, he picked up his phone. It was a text message from Belle, and not just any ordinary message, there was an attachment too. Likely a picture, as most contained. All of his tenants chose this form of communication since a picture could explain their problem without actually having to talk to their outcast landlord. Snapping and sending a quick photo of a broken pipe, or rotting shingles along with a small text briefly explaining their problems were all they needed to do nowadays. From there it would be a call to the associated companies, plumbers for the pipes and a roofer for the shingles. Technology made dealing with his clients so much easier. He seldom had to socialize with them thanks to smartphones. But as it were, Gold was a man of nostalgia, he liked the good old times, preferring the old fashion way of collecting rent. Door to door. He relished the looks on his renters' faces when they opened their door. The 'Oh my God, he really is real' looks. The 'Hide your firstborns' ones. Or his personal favorite, 'Here's your money, it's all there, I swear'.

The only one of his tenants who didn't quake in fear from his monthly shakedowns was the woman who'd just texted him, Belle French. Adding more to his suspicion about the town's librarian, she seemed more pleased by his arrivals, than troubled. She always had innocent tidbits about the townspeople who'd visited her establishment, like how the owner of Granny's diner preferred books in the library's small collection of sexual self-helps. He could have spent a lifetime without knowing that information, but it didn't matter. The knowledge of Granny's love for dirty novels was worth its weight in gold just to listen to her voice, confiding in him, to see her smile and hear her giggle.

He didn't know why he loved that smile of hers so much, having known her for a while, he never really paid attention to how lovely it was until she begun renting from him. He always made sure to leave her collection for last. So that the last thing he would see, at the end of his long day, was her. Even when she was an adolescent, her father's floral shop was always his last stop. He would carry a book for her, from shop to shop and house to house, all day long, just to give it to her and hear how much she loved the last book he loaned her.

Now the adult version of that intelligent young girl was texting him. At nine at night, he reflected looking at his wristwatch. He knew he should have hired someone more skilled than Leroy, but the irritable handyman made a convincing argument that his work could be compared to any heating engineer or electrician in town, at half the price too. It was his fault for being cheap, but his tenant shouldn't have to suffer his mistake, especially this particular tenant. It wasn't too late at night. He could send Leroy over to do a quick-fix until he could get a real electrician to take care of the library's heating problem in the morning.

He clicked the message, and it opened immediately. Filling his screen from top to bottom, was a picture of her. At first glance his eyes betrayed him. His vision blurred the photo, either that or he had a heart attack. He wasn't entirely sure. He felt a throbbing sensation in one of his extremities, but thankfully it wasn't in any of his limbs. He blinked widely and focused his vision, helping the picture's edges to line up until it became clear. It was a topless photo of Belle. He fell back onto his bed clumsily. It was like someone sucked all the air out of his lungs. Was he even breathing? Putting his phone face down next to him revealed that he had not been.

He took a deep breath and exhaled. With a clear head and a steady heartbeat, he reached for his phone and re-examined it. Looking at it without feeling lightheaded was proving to be a difficult feat, and soon he feared, if the way his head swam was any indication, he'd be fighting to keep a bit of his sanity too. His mind began conjuring questions. What could this picture mean? Reasoning with himself, Belle could have simply sent it to the wrong number. But then who was the photo meant for? From his recollection of Belle and their chats, she wasn't in any relationship. Unmarried and very, very available. Also, the chances of her snapping this nude picture of her body then sending it to one of her friends were slim to none. Belle was just too classy to do something so risqué. Even in the photo, she looked very modelesque. It definitely wasn't something she would send to someone just for shits and giggles. This photo was eliciting something provocative. He loosened the necktie under his collar messily, his eyes never pulling away from his phone's screen. Maybe without his tie, oxygen could get to his brain and would help him think clearly.

Another logical reason presented itself in the back of his head, what if she was in some kind of harm. There was a documentary he'd watched about a year ago. It was about how sometimes women who were being attacked or kidnapped would send an unsuspicious picture to alert someone they were in trouble, without being suspected by their assailant. He picked up his phone again, this time trying to look past the focal point of her image. Somehow, as hard as it was, he managed to keep his attention above her neck. She didn't seem like she was in any peril. In the background, she looked to be in the bathroom of her studio apartment above the library. Her captivating face didn't suggest any danger either. Rather, desire and keenness.

In the seconds after confirming that she wasn't in any distress, his eyes drifted to her breasts. This time he couldn't seem to pull his eyes away from them. They looked so supple and soft, even plastered in two dimensions, her breasts appeared sizeable. He knew he was staring, that was for sure, but the photo was so spellbinding, what else could he do? After almost an hour of gazing at her photo and running through all the scenarios, there was only one explanation left. She sent this picture to him because she wanted to.

Maybe Belle had some sort of attraction for him. It would explain why she enjoyed his monthly visits. Perhaps this photo was her confession. Something she could do blindly, without a face to face interaction. Gold had never thought of her as the shy type, but maybe when it came to matters of the heart, she was a tad timid. There wasn't any readable text along with the photo to completely draw to this conclusion, but what else could it be? Perhaps she wanted to see what he thought of her first before approaching him directly. It was very presumptuous of her, but he really, really appreciated her effort.

Something within him magnified, and this bare-breasts picture of her was quickly becoming an obsession. Naughty thoughts crept into his mind as his eyes lingered longer on his newest fixation. His imagination was brimming with images of fondling her breasts while he stood behind her, kissing her neck softly. To no one's surprise, including his own, he didn't banish such thoughts. Instead, he embraced them, just as he presumed Belle did. He imagined himself whisking her around, and beginning at her bountiful hips, which were just off screen, he'd run his hands up the lines of her frame while he listened to her soft, uneven pants until he had reached the culprits of his naughty fantasy of her. At long last, he could sample what decadence she had been offering him.

He had enough of visualizing, he wanted the real thing, but how was he supposed to respond to her? He could just snap a picture of himself, returning the favor, but there was nothing pretty about his chest or his body. Under those tailored and accentuating suits, Gold was a scrawny man, and his pecs were nothing to gawk at. They were meaty, but not from muscles. His arms were thin, and his midsection was gaining a small but increasing pudge. He wouldn't be winning any bodybuilding contests anytime soon. Maybe instead of reciprocating her with a photo, he could just compliment her.

After writing his reply, he went back to the full-screen version of Belle. He propped his phone face up on a pillow beside him and rolled over onto his back, waiting for her reply. His mind began to race. He couldn't believe how quickly he was falling for her from just a picture, and he began to wonder if his reply was a good enough response. Was admiring how lovely her breasts were being too forward? Should he have added something to how beautiful or how radiant she looked? Was he too overly familiar with asking for more topless pictures of her? What if she was expecting a photo back, a tit for tat so to speak. Should he be preparing himself to take a salacious picture too? Pulling his trousers open from his waist, he looked down inside at his semi-hard cock resting against his thigh. Thankfully, its throbbing had halted to a quiver. Gold sighed and closed his pants. Nah, he reconsidered, he couldn't just flash her with a picture of his member. That wasn't the type of first impression he wanted to leave her with if this had any chance of blossoming into something more.

He rolled over in bed and looked at the photo once again. This time he hovered his thumb over her breasts, blocking them from his vision. The cropped picture of her face alone was still breathtaking. She was so beautiful and…. He groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. What the hell was he doing? Eagerly lusting over this digital photo of her like some teenager viewing his first nudie mag. He was acting ridiculous, especially when there was a significant possibility that she didn't harbor any feelings for him, and this whole thing could just be one big misunderstanding.

His phone played a three-tone jingle that meant he had received a text. It was indeed from Belle, and his heart began to beat wildly.

We need to talk Mr. Gold.
but not over the phone, someplace private

He could put his fears to rest. She wanted him. Badly, from what he gathered from her urgency. Somewhere private alluded to him that she wanted to go on a date. Just the two of them. Alone. He tapped out a reply as quickly as his thumbs would let him.

I'm at your disposal, Ms. French. Just tell me when and where.

Your shop. 5 pm. Don't be late

His shop? A peculiar place for a date, but an excellent idea nonetheless. It was secluded. Nobody visited his shop on Saturdays, and he had everything there they would need to share a lovely evening by themselves. He also had lots more necklaces in his display cases that he could adorn her with. Pearls, amethyst, and diamonds would all look nicely resting against her breasts. Maybe even a collar, or a sapphire choker to match her eyes. There was too much excitement to sleep, but there was much more of Belle to be had in his dreams, and those images of her body didn't stop waist length as the photo did.

Okay, fine, one more chapter :)
-RL