Crystal Palace Queen

Marcus collected Victorian erotica—discreetly, expensively, obsessively. His dealer told him about Oluwaseun, who apparently had pieces no one else could source.

Her shop was a wonder, cramped with treasures from every era. But nothing compared to the owner.

Oluwaseun was Nigerian royalty translated to South London—regal bearing, thick curves in an elegant sheath dress, and eyes that saw everything you were worth.

"You want the special collection," she said after his inquiry. "Not many are allowed to see it."

"I can afford it."

"Money isn't the only currency here, Mr. Marcus." She led him deeper into the shop. "Let me show you what else I value."

The back room was a different world—red velvet, antique lamps, display cases full of intimate antiques. Oluwaseun poured brandy while Marcus examined the pieces.

"These are exceptional," he breathed.

"As are you." She stood close, offering him a glass. "I've researched you. Successful. Discreet. Hungry for beautiful things."

"Is that bad?"

"It's perfect." Her hand touched his face. "I don't sell to just anyone. But I might... share."

"Share?"

"Everything."

She kissed like a queen taking tribute—commanding, thorough, leaving no doubt who was in charge. Her curves pressed against him, soft and overwhelming.

"I've wanted you since you walked in," she admitted. "Collector to collector. Connoisseur to connoisseur."

"Then let me appreciate you properly."

"Show me."

She undressed slowly, revealing a body that was its own antique treasure—thick and full, skin dark as mahogany, curves that could launch dynasties. She reclined on a Victorian fainting couch like she was born for it.

"Worship me."

He did. His mouth traced her body, learning every curve, tasting every inch. She guided him with royal commands.

"There... yes... lower... perfect..."

When she came, she did so with dignity—a controlled shudder, a deep moan, eyes never leaving his.

"Now. Inside me. Claim your treasure."

He took her on that antique couch, surrounded by priceless relics, creating something new from something old. She wrapped her thick legs around him, pulling him deep.

"Yes... my collector... give me everything..."

Her second climax was less controlled—she screamed, she clawed, she shattered into pieces like something precious dropped from height. He followed, and they lay amid the velvet and history, breathing hard.

"So," Oluwaseun said eventually, "about the collection..."

"I'll take everything."

"Everything in the shop? Or everything I have to offer?"

"Both. All of it." He pulled her close. "Name your price."

"Return visits. Regular ones. A collector like you needs constant access to rare pieces."

"And what do you get?"

"A man who knows how to appreciate value." She kissed him deeply. "Some treasures aren't for selling. Only for sharing."

His Crystal Palace queen had crowned him worthy. And Marcus intended to prove that investment sound again and again.