Canning Town Charm

Olumide had viewed twelve flats in two weeks. His agent, Precious, was starting to look exasperated.

"This one has everything you asked for," she said, gesturing at the Canning Town apartment. "Open plan. Modern kitchen. River views."

"The bedroom feels small."

She turned to face him, hands on her ample hips. Her pencil skirt barely contained those curves—Nigerian hips in full effect. Her blouse did nothing to hide her generous chest.

"Let me show you something about bedrooms," she said, her tone shifting. "Follow me."

In the master bedroom, she closed the door behind them. The click of the lock made his heart race.

"You've been wasting my time for weeks," she said, walking toward him. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"Looking at flats you don't want so you can spend time with me." She stopped inches away. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

"Is it working?"

Her smile was dangerous. "Find out."

She kissed him first—aggressive and knowing. Her body pressed against his, all soft curves and professional perfume.

"I've been wanting this too," she admitted between kisses. "Every viewing. Watching you pretend to look at kitchens while you look at my backside."

"It's a very good backside."

"Then see it properly."

She turned, hiking up her pencil skirt to reveal her bare arse—she'd come prepared. He groaned at the sight.

"Like what you see?"

"God, yes."

He took her right there against the bedroom wall, her manicured nails digging into the paint, her screams echoing in the empty flat.

"Yes! Yes! Right there!"

Her thick body bounced against him as he drove into her, both hands gripping her waist. She came fast and hard, her whole body shaking.

"More," she gasped. "Don't stop."

He didn't.

They moved to the bed—empty of furniture but surprisingly comfortable carpeted. She straddled him, her thick thighs framing his hips, her blouse finally discarded.

"This is what a bedroom is for," she breathed, sinking onto him. "Does it still feel small?"

"Feels perfect."

She rode him slowly, savoring, her full breasts swaying. Her eyes never left his. This was a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and took it.

"I'm going to come again," she moaned. "And then you're going to make an offer on this flat."

"Any terms you want."

They christened every room before they finished—the kitchen counter, the bathroom floor, even the balcony with its river views. By the time they were done, the sun was setting over the Thames.

"So," Precious said, fixing her hair in her compact mirror, "about the offer?"

"I'll take it. Full asking price."

"Smart man." She kissed him lightly. "Completion usually takes eight weeks. But for special clients, I offer... viewing nights."

"How many?"

"As many as it takes to make sure you're satisfied with your purchase."

His Canning Town charm had just sold him the perfect flat. And Olumide was ready to close the deal—again and again.