Pawnshop Pleasure

Cash Converters was a last resort. Nan's old jewelry, stuff she'd left me that I'd never worn—time to turn sentiment into rent money.

The shop was what you'd expect: display cases full of other people's memories, guitars nobody played, consoles nobody wanted. And behind the counter, looking like she'd seen every hard luck story in the book: Vanessa.

Late forties, maybe fifty, carrying her age with the kind of confidence that came from not giving a fuck. Curves barely contained by a leopard-print blouse, reading glasses on a chain around her neck, rings on every finger—probably confiscated from people who couldn't pay.

"What you got then, love?" she asked, barely looking up.

I spread the jewelry on the counter. Nan's engagement ring. A gold bracelet. Some earrings I couldn't identify.

She picked up each piece, examined them with a loupe, made notes on a pad.

"Nine carat. Some of this is plated. Ring's nice though." She looked at me over her glasses. "Sentimental?"

"It was my nan's."

"They always are." She softened slightly. "Two hundred for the lot. Could probably get more online, but then you'd be waiting."

"Two hundred's fine."

She counted out the cash, pushed it across. Our fingers touched.

"Anything else I can help with?" The way she said it. The pause. The look.

"Depends. What else do you offer?"

"Depends what you need." She glanced at the door. "Lock's on my side. If you wanted some privacy."

I looked at the door. Looked at her. Made a decision.

"Privacy sounds good."

She flipped the CLOSED sign with practiced ease, led me through a beaded curtain to the back room. It was cluttered with unsold stock, dusty furniture, and a surprisingly comfortable-looking couch.

"Sit," she commanded. "Let me look at you properly."

I sat. She stood in front of me, arms crossed, appraising me like I was another piece of jewelry.

"Fit. Young. Polite." She nodded. "I like that. Don't get many like you in here."

"What do you usually get?"

"Desperate. Rude. Smelling of last night's bad decisions." She moved closer, uncrossing her arms. "You smell nice. I appreciate that."

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome." She straddled my lap without warning, her skirt riding up. "Now. Let's discuss terms."

"Terms?"

"I give you something. You give me something." Her hands were on my chest. "Mutual exchange. Fair trade."

"I'm listening."

"Less listening. More touching."

She kissed me—confident, demanding, her tongue knowing exactly what it was doing. Her curves pressed against me, soft and warm, and I grabbed her hips on instinct.

"That's it. Don't be shy." She was grinding down, feeling me respond. "Been watching you browse for twenty minutes. Could tell you were interested."

"In the merchandise?"

"In me." She pulled back, started unbuttoning her blouse. "Am I wrong?"

"No."

The blouse fell open, revealing a black lace bra that had seen better days but still did its job beautifully. She was fuller than I'd expected, her tits heavy and natural, nipples already hard through the lace.

"Touch them. Go on."

I did, filling my hands while she worked at my jeans. She freed me with a satisfied sound.

"Nice. Very nice." She stroked once, twice. "Worth more than two hundred."

"Glad you approve."

"I do." She stood, shimmied out of her skirt. Underneath, matching black lace and stockings held up by an actual garter belt. "Like what you see?"

"Love it."

"Show me."

I pulled her back down, kissed her hard, my hands everywhere. She moaned against my mouth, grinding on my lap.

"Inside. Now. Too old to mess around."

"Condom?"

"Drawer there. Keep them for... inventory purposes."

I grabbed one, rolled it on while she positioned herself. When she sank down, she made a sound of pure satisfaction.

"Fuck yes. That's what I needed."

She rode me on that cluttered couch in the back of Cash Converters, all experience and enthusiasm. Her tits bounced in my face, her moans filled the small room, and somewhere out front, someone knocked on the door.

We ignored it.

"Harder—come on—fuck me like you mean it—"

I grabbed her hips, thrust up to meet her. She threw her head back, exposed her throat, and I bit down while she keened.

"Close—touch me—"

I found her clit, rubbed while she rode. She came with a shout, clenching around me hard enough to hurt.

"Your turn—inside me—fill me up—"

I came with her name on my lips, buried deep, feeling her shake through aftershocks.

We stayed there for a moment, connected, both breathing hard.

"Well," she said eventually, climbing off with surprising grace, "that was worth more than the jewelry."

"Agreed."

She straightened her clothes, checked her makeup in a compact. "Come back next week. I might have some more... items for you to inspect."

"I will."

"Good boy." She kissed my cheek, leaving lipstick. "Now go. Before I decide to keep you."

I left Cash Converters with two hundred quid and a standing appointment.

Best trade I ever made.