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Mystery Creates DesirePosted originally on the Archive of Our Own at rchive itional Tags:Series:Stats:MatureNo Archive Warnings ApplyF/MPerson of Interest (TV)Harold Finch/Original Female Character(s), Harold Finch & JohnReese, Sameen Shaw & OFC FriendshipHarold Finch, John Reese, Bear (Person of Interest), Sameen Shaw,Original Female Character(s), Lionel Fusco, Zoe Morgan, Joss Carter,Root Samantha Groves, Grace HendricksAlternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe Prostitution, Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution,Older Man/Younger Woman, Sex, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Spinalinjuries, Reese Is A Good Friend, BAMF Shaw, Sex for Money, lying,Blood and Gore, Dating, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Slow Burn,Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Harold Is Oblivious, Foster System, Foster Care,Episode: s02e15 Booked Solid, mentions of past rape, PhotographicMemory, Multilingual Character, Multilingual OC Character, Harold'sSuits, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rammstein - Freeform,Anybody else think Harold looks kinda Daddy in those suits?, Suit Kink,Mild Daddy Kink, Cover Art, Undercover, Implied/Referenced UnderageSex, Literature, Awkwardness, Harold Finch Needs A Hug, Manhattan,New York City, floristry, Episode: s03e11 Lethe, Episode: s03e12Aletheia, Episode: s03e09 The Crossing, Doggy Style, Hair-pulling,Rough SexPart 1 of A Whore And The Man Who Doesn't ExistPublished: 2019-12-15 Completed: 2020-03-17 Chapters: 23/23 Words:76971Mystery Creates Desireby Black LotusSummary(Episode Tag S02E15)“Madam, it's best not to flirt with the concierge of a hotel when you're a prostitute for saidhotel.”She chuckled, not a single hint of concern that he knew what she was. Those green orbscontinued to sparkle.“You're right, best not, and I prefer escort or call girl.” She leant on the wooden deskclosing the space between them. “However, you're not a concierge.”Or, The one where Harold accidentally befriends an escort with a mind to rival his own.
COMPLETENotesThe plot line for this is going to run from S02E15 to somewhere towards the end of seasonthree.See the end of the work for more notes
Far More FascinatingHarold smirked when he got into The Coronet Hotel's security cameras all too easily, frankly hewondered why they'd even bothered with this half-ass security system. Still, he'd take an easy dayprotecting a Number over the other more shoot-y sort. Things had been going fairly smoothly atthe hotel considering he and Reese still had a young woman in danger and an escort ring runningaround the lavishly decorated lobby.More surprisingly than how well things had been going was that the bespectacled man actuallyenjoyed being a concierge, it was simple and didn't involve too much legwork. However, he'd notmoved from the concierge desk since they'd started four hours earlier and his leg had started tothrob somewhat. Finch didn't stop though, his pain threshold was arguably higher than that ofMister Reese, and they had a woman to save which was by far more important than his leg.From what Finch had gathered from his blue eyes continuously monitoring the ornate lobby and
everyone passing through, Fowler had twelve girls working for him – or at least that day he did –but two of them kept appearing more than the others. Wasn't hard to figure out they were the onesin high demand and Harold couldn't blame anyone for that; both were stunningly beautiful women.Harold didn't spend all his time watching escorts though, he stayed focused on his work, had to,Miss Dobrica's life depended upon it. Although, he did keep getting interrupted by actually havingto be a concierge. People asked him dull questions, despite there being three other staff memberseagerly waiting do help. Mostly he found himself posed with the question of where the best placefor dinner was or where the bathroom was, questions that only required a bold smile and quick,short answers; The Grand because it had the best rib-eye and the bathrooms were to his left andright.Finch had just sent Mister Reese upstairs after their Number when a young woman approached himat his dark wood desk, he spotted her over his glasses, a blurry feminine form that he didn't glanceup to at first. He expected the usual 'where's the bathroom' but instead she cleared her throat whichfinally got him to look at her properly. The second he did Harold realized she was the taller of thetwo women he'd decided were in high demand. She smiled at him softly, a smile that made hergreen eyes sparkle like polished emeralds.“Hello.” She greeted in an almost lyrical voice.He had to admit this girl was far beyond stunning, seeing her from afar hadn't done her justice. Shewas a little shorter than himself – even in heels – with jet black hair that came down to just belowher shoulders and hung in loose waves like delicate brush strokes on a canvas. Green eyes likegemstones emphasized by sharp but subtle eyeliner, so much work had gone into that make-up andyet it all still looked natural. Harold paused a moment when he noticed her dress, black, short andtight to show off her body and the assets known as her generous chest, however, none of it wasoverly obvious or revealed what she was; chameleon. This woman was like those in magazinesexcept this one wasn't airbrushed, she stood right in front of him with that smile.“Hello.” He responded finally. She worked in this hotel so he doubted he was in for the usualquestions. “Can I help you, Madam?”She tilted her head as if thinking something over but the delicate smile never faded.“I don't know, can you?”He stiffened, well, a bit more than usual.“Madam, it's best not to flirt with the concierge of a hotel when you're a prostitute for said hotel.”She chuckled, not a single hint of concern that he knew what she was. Those green orbs continuedto sparkle.“You're right, best not, and I prefer escort or call girl.” She leant on the wooden desk closing thespace between them. “However, you're not a concierge.”Harold went blank a moment, his smile faded and he found himself genuinely taken aback. He gota handle on himself quickly though, he couldn't let anything slip or it could mean the end of MiraDobrica and he would not allow that.“I don't know what you mean, Madam.”That got the prostitute to breathe out a laugh. “Of course you don't.” She made a show of pouting.“I'm an escort, Mister whoever you are, I know an act when I see one. And you, well, you're lying
through your teeth.”Damn it, the whore had figured him out, or at least she'd started to. Harold planned and plotted forevery eventuality but he'd not seen this coming.“I assure you, Madam, I am simply a concierge.”“No,” she began softly with a look that bordered on bedroom eyes, “you're much more fascinatingthan that.”An elder man appeared then, late sixties, maybe early seventies, and far taller than Mister Reeselet alone Harold himself. He looked very well put together for a senior man and still had a youth inhis eyes. Harold didn't have to think very hard to figure out he'd soon have a youth in his bed aswell. She turned to face the man and flashed a heavenly smile before she let him loop their armstogether and lead her off towards the elevator bank on the right.It had been a strange encounter, one that had put the bespectacled man on edge a little. Haroldwasn't used to – for a lack of a better term – ordinary people figuring out there was something offabout who he claimed to be. In Finch's mind he'd made a pretty good concierge. He pushed themeeting from his mind and just assumed she was a curious girl who'd gotten very good at spottingliars, in fact, Harold found himself rather impressed she'd noticed. However, she was gone now andout of his hair so the constant fabulist returned to work; they had to save a life after all.Several hours passed and Mister Reese had come to talk with him at the concierge desk, much toFowler's annoyance, and then a reporter had been murdered and shoved in a case. Fusco had gottenMiss Dobrica out of the hotel though, she was safe. When Reese's clear out order came Harold shuthis terminal down and simply walked away once he'd wiped all records of himself from the system.Meanwhile Reese had knocked Fowler – the floor manager – out with one punch after he'd beendiscovered in the women room to retrieve the disk.A few days later Reese and Harold had successfully managed to take down the escort ring, towhich Derek Fowler had confessed the second the handcuffs had been slapped on, and due to thescandal the Coronet Hotel's owners had been more than willing to sell it to Harold; under anassumed name of course. He'd would have swooped in and purchased the hotel even if they'd notbeen so willing to sell, the place needed proper management and thanks to a little conversation withJohn it had been easy to find a new floor manager and Miss Dobrica – or more correctly Miss Brozi– had done an excellent job.She was why Finch and Reese found themselves sat at the hotel bar a good three days later sippingat scotch and beer respectively. Harold ignored the hubbub around him and instead paid attentionto the way John subtly perked up when Zoe entered the bar, Miss Morgan truly was a wonderfulwoman and Harold had no doubt she was good for his ex-agent friend.The three of them kept their conversation light and littered with touches of humor until Miss Broziappeared to their right and Harold absconded to her office to discuss the month's event calendar;half way down the hall he mourned his forgotten scotch. Wasn't like Harold had a shortage ofscotch though.When he returned neither Mister Reese nor Miss Morgan were anywhere in sight and frankly hedidn't want to think about where they'd vanished off to, besides Harold wasn't Reese's keeper, aslong as he came when a Number got spat out by the Machine everything would be fine.Something caught his attention then, a man a little younger than himself stood over at one of thewooden tables and bent to kiss a young woman's cheek; all very unimportant until he realized it
was the same woman he'd met at the concierge desk. Those dazzling green-eyes of hers found hisblue ones quickly and a smile settled on her lips as she gestured to the now vacant seat. If askedlater why he limped over and sat he'd still not be able to provide a satisfactory answer; maybe itwas the impossible shade of emeralds in her eyes or maybe the pretty smile, maybe it didn't matter.“I thought all the escorts at this hotel were arrested.” Said Harold as he settled himself in the seat.The girl shrugged which made a show of her casual off-shoulder dress, the rich, dark plum colorreally brought out those eyes. Okay, maybe it had been the eyes after all.“I knew something was going on when I spoke to you so I thought it would be best to take the restof the day off.Not just observant but very clever, muttered Finch's mind. Her boysenberry lipstick made her skinseem even paler, like porcelain.“Then why are you at the same hotel only a few days later after your boss was arrested meeting a client?”That got a chuckle out of the young woman – very young, certainly under twenty-five – and shegestured loosely around the bar.“This place has fantastic wine.” Not just clever but brazen, a dangerous combination in Harold'sopinion. “Oh, and he's not a client, wants to be but no.” Harold showed no sign of it but he didwonder what the man had done to put her off. “You put me out of a job but I should probably thankyou because now I get to work for myself. I get to vet the client list and the one who just left won'tbe on it. Too much of a loose cannon.”“Best to avoid people like that when possible.” He replied calmly.“I couldn't agree more.”The two spoke for a short while and, of course, Harold gave away nothing as to who he really wasor why he'd been impersonating a simple concierge. She seemed very respectful in her commentsand Harold was silently grateful for that, most people just wanted the whole story and damn theconsequences.“You should say sorry though.” He raised an eyebrow as she pouted in the cutest way possible;he'd never seen a pout be cute before. “You did put me out of work. Fowler is a dick, sure, butwork is work.” When the pout broke into a smirk he realized she was teasing him. “What's yourname?”There it was, the start to the questioning. “Harold Dove.”At this point in his life lying about his name was second nature, he didn't miss a beat or struggle tocome up with a new name; one was always there to roll of the tongue. Instantly the girl started tolaugh, a magical sound.“No it isn't but I like it.” Now he'd started to wonder if this young woman was too smart for herown good. “I like Harold though, it's old-fashioned but adorable. Suits you.” She paused a momentto sip from her wine glass that had been just sitting between them since this odd conversation hadstarted. “Why is it you showed up and suddenly all the secrets and lies got out? Then peoplestarted getting shot if the news is to be believed and Fowler got arrested.”“It truly is a mystery,” was the only answer he'd provide as he rose to his feet “goodbye, Miss?”
“My name is Cassandra.”Finch smiled, a genuine smile that hardly anyone ever got to see. “Now who's lying about theiridentity, hmm.”As he left the bar he knew that Cassandra, or whatever her real name was, watched him with asimper on her face. In a strange way he felt as though he'd met a sort of kindred spirit.
Eggs Benedict And CoffeeChapter NotesI felt bad when I told M E Lover that there would be a weeks wait until chapter two,so I'm posting it early. Hear that? You got me to do this early! :-)There's a warning for Past Child Abuse and Past Child Torture in this chapter but it'snot any of our main characters.About a month had sailed by since Harold had purchased the Coronet Hotel and put Miss Brozi towork as the floor manager. She'd really taken to her new profession and Harold couldn't fault herhard work, she'd done wonders for its social calendar already.He'd not slept very well the previous night, on a good day his pain lingered around a three but lastnight it had been way up at seven, that was how he'd ended up at the diner eating Eggs Benedictand re-reading The Island of Doctor Moreau as a way of grounding his mind. Thankfully it seemedto be working because his pain level had dropped back down to a steady and manageable three.As the suit clad man turned a page he spotted someone in his peripheral vision, for a second heassumed it to be the waitress wanting to know if he needed anything else but when he finallylooked up there was Cassandra and all his memories of the hotel flooded back. The raven-hairedbeauty had dressed down from the last time he'd seen her, now in denim shorts, a long whitecardigan and an oversized shirt with Rammstein scrawled across it. Those heels of hers were stillpresent though and her legs remained on display, and they were very lovely legs.With a beaming smile she slipped into the booth opposite him and thanked a waitress when a cupof steaming black coffee was set before her. Finch froze with a fork of eggs half way to his openmouth and watched her with a raised eyebrow. It took him a moment but he soon managed to setthe fork down and get his brain to function again.“You're following me now?” He accused with no real anger. “I usually notice people followingme.”Harold had glanced at the heels Cassandra wore and seriously doubted she'd be prepared for it. Shejust shrugged and lifted her coffee cup to her bold red lips.“It must be fate.” Sip. “Mind if I sit here?” She asked despite already being in the booth.Finch wanted to decline but when he glanced around the diner he saw just how busy the place was.As far as he could tell there were only three available spots to sit; one at the counter between twomen who looked like they'd kill a woman for daring to breathe the same air as them, over by an oldman who was clearly already drunk at – Harold glanced at his watch – eight in the morning and thelast was by a young boy who seemed to care more about kicking all the chairs near him whetherthey had someone sat in them or not. Upon reflection, the bespectacled man wouldn't have wantedto sit in any of those places either so he didn't blame Cassandra for not wanting to and reluctantlyaccepted her presence.“Please tell me this isn't the first time you're reading that.” She said as she nodded to the book.
“Of course not, everyone should have read this.” Harold firmly believed that. “It's a tale of moralresponsibility, the philosophical themes and imagery, not to mention its portrayal of humanidentity. It teaches that just because one can does not mean one should, Miss Cassandra.”She flashed him a smile over her cup, clearly pleased he understood the story's – sometimesobvious – messages.“The Puma-woman, that horrified me. I can't imagine leaving someone in that much pain.”Harold flashed back to the previous night and being unable to sleep because of the pain in hisspine, frankly he could understand far better than Cassandra could.As their talk went on Harold discovered that the pair of them actually shared a vast enjoyment ofliterature and – surprisingly – he concluded he liked this girl. She was knowledgeable andopinionated but not rudely so, Cassandra latched on to life lessons in novels and was able to discussthem at length when with another like-minded person and seemed willing to learn and take inother's opinions. After a while though she got sick of Harold referring to her as 'Miss Cassandra.”“Well, I don't know your name so it will have to do.” He replied not expecting to know her realname unless he Bluejacked her phone.“. It's Harbor.” She said softly. “Harbor Caldwell.”Harold raised an eyebrow. “What sort of a name is 'Harbor'?”The raven-haired beauty, who was on her third cup of coffee, didn't seem impressed. “At least it's areal one.”That got a soft smile out of him. “You have me there.”“I'm an escort, I'll have you anywhere.”It had become glaringly obvious very quickly that Cassandra – or Harbor as it turned out – didn'tseem to be able to turn her teasing dial down. Harold wasn't offended but he had made note of it.His face betrayed him though because Finch's face flushed red and Harbor thought it utterlyadorable from a man his age.Soon the conversation turned to poetry and Harold became fascinated when she corrected him on amisquoted Macbeth saying 'lead' instead of 'lay'. It wasn't that Harold had assumed that Harbor'schosen occupation meant she was stupid, not at all, but he'd not expected her to have such a variedknowledge and be able to recite so easily.“How can you know that?” He asked as he leant in a little; his plate had been taken away long agonow only his closed book sat between them.Harbor looked away then and her happy smile faded to one of caution as she debated how toanswer. He'd not seen this from her in any of their three meetings and Harold instantly recognizedhe's touched a nerve. When she finally spoke it was dismissive and shrugged off.“. My brain, its wired weirdly.”Well that was a comment that required further inquiry if ever he'd heard one.“Em, 'wired weirdly'? Care to elaborate?” Harold kept his voice soft and gentle as he didn't knowhow she'd react.
“I don't want to show off.” She waved him off with a loose gesture and finished the last of hercoffee. Much to Harold's pleasure she didn't seem offended or irritated. “I have a photographicmemory, but while most people with one can remember things, images, books, weeks or evenmonths later I'm quite rare. I can still remember kids books from kindergarten word for wordand I'm now twenty-two. Once it's in there, it's in there.”That certainly explained a lot in regards to her ability to correct his misquote so easily and had allthat literature information on hand. Finch had already concluded that Harbor was highly intelligentbut now he thought her remarkable, he also wondered why a woman with a brain like that workedas an escort.They talked a little longer and Harold had to admit he'd not been this mentally stretched by anotherperson since his MIT days. He opened his mouth to speak but paused when his phone vibrated andhe quickly took it out from his breast pocket. Reese, and it didn't seem good.“As interesting as our conversation has been, Miss Caldwell, I'm afraid I must leave.” He grabbedhis book, shoved his phone away and stood. “Good day.”“Hope we run into each other again some time.”“Unlikely.”Then he was gone off to aid Mister Reese and get the next name off the Irrelevant list. It had beena pure coincidence that he'd met Miss Caldwell again, the diner was popular after all, but she wasjust one girl and Harold was unlikely to come across her again. X Around a week and a half later Harold returned to the diner dressed in a navy suit and a burgundytie; suits were his weakness. He'd planned to take Bear for a walk but Reese had beaten him to it soHarold was left flying solo as he'd headed for something to eat. He glanced over at the booths assoon as he was through the door and annoyingly found them all full of patrons, the counter it isthen. He limped over only to stop dead, sat looking sipping her coffee was Harbor. He'd figured itso unlikely for them to ever stumble across one another again, but if she ate at the diner semiregularly as he did then unlikely became very likely indeed. She'd not seen him, Finch could haveleft and found somewhere else to eat but no, he wanted that plate of Eggs Benedict he'd promisedhimself.He'd not intended to Bluejack her phone originally, however, their beyond interesting conversationhad changed matters and he'd not been able to stop himself as he'd left. She'd not lied, HarborCaldwell was indeed her real name. She'd been born in Wichita, Kansas, some fifteen-hundredmiles away. Her father had been a Marine by the name of Sebastian Caldwell and her mother,Deanna, had died due to complications in childbirth. She'd spent some time in The System as wellthough it appeared she'd run away not long after. Harbor hadn't lied about her age either, twentytwo years old as of November last year. A young woman basically alone in the world.Before he knew his feet had moved Harold had limped to the stool beside her. A quick flash downtook in her outfit which – once again – showed off those lovely legs and damn as she beautiful.Short red circle skirt and long-sleeved, stripped top, bold and yet somehow simple; the heelsthough, Harold had to wonder how she walked in those things.
Harold noticed a man a few seats along the counter as he glanced between Harbor and Haroldhimself only to hive him 'that look' the one that said he didn't have a chance with a girl as stunningas Harbor. However, when she finally spotted him her head snapped up and a beaming grin spreadacross her berry colored lips. Quickly the silent man's expression changed to another look one thatmuttered 'ah, you're her sugar daddy'. Harold didn't care what he or anyone else assumed abouthim, it wasn't any of their business any way.Finch sat himself down beside her and the two slipped into conversation as though more than aweek hadn't occurred since their last chat. Harold hadn't meant for it to happen, he always tried tobe so unpredictable but he and Harbor had breakfast at the diner most mornings after that; Machineand Numbers permitting of course. He liked this girl, he could actually have an interestingconversation with her and she reminded him why he and Reese did what they did, to help peoplewho didn't have anyone to rely on but themselves. She didn't pity him or treat him like he wasmade of glass because of his injuries either. Harold knew this was stupid and dangerous for him tobecome a creature of habit but he truly enjoyed the raven-haired beauty's company. Harold Finchdidn't make friends – under any name – save for dear Mister Reese whose friendship he'd alreadycome to cherish, and yet this girl – because she was little more than a girl – had wormed her way inwithout really meaning to. Had he not gone through her history with a fine-tooth comb he'd havethough Harbor an agent of some sort just waiting to pounce.Fifteen days after they'd started this little routine Harold found himself sat at the counter – facingthe door due to his intense paranoia – waiting for the young woman to show up, she was usuallythere before him but on the odd occasion she'd come in to find him sat with a cup of coffee waitingfor her. Harold hadn't want to admit it to himself at the start but her company truly did sooth himand let him forget, just for a short while, that the weight of the world was on his and Mister Reese'sshoulders.Harbor slipped into the seat beside him and crossed her legs in a very ladylike manner and took upthe cup for a – rather large – gulp of coffee.“Thank you, I really needed that. Have you already ordered?”Finch nodded. “Yes, I hope you don't object but I took the liberty of ordering you pancakes.”“Am I that predictable?”“Perhaps I am just very observant.”She seemed pleased with that answer because she flashed him a grin. Instantly he knew why she'dbeen late, Harbor wasn't wearing one of her bold lipsticks and that meant one thing; she'd been witha client. Harbor never wore lipstick when working, or perfume, she'd instead wear a shimmeringlip-gloss, still pretty but it wouldn't leave any hint that a man had been with a whore. Wonderful formen with wives or girlfriends. While Harold didn't judge her in the least for her chosen professionhe did occasionally feel bad for said wives and girlfriends.Their plates were set before them then by a lovely young waitress who was always at the dinerwith a smile. When Harbor started to rummage though her bag for some cash Harold quicklystopped her.“Already paid.”She flashed him a look, one that he suspected meant no one ever did something like that for herunless they intended to fuck her within the next hour.
“You don't have to.” She replied softly.“My treat.” He insisted; Harold had billions, he could buy a young woman breakfast.The suspicious look on her stunning face faded then into a genuine smile and she set her bag backdown.“Thank you. And I really could do with a treat right now.” She sighed as she took up her cutlery. “Ihave a new client and he's well he's a dick really. Once you get him out his head he's alright butuntil you have he's all puffed up chest.”She didn't seem overly concerned about this man just a touch irritated, then again Finch knew thatif she had been concerned Harbor never would have let him onto her list.“Tell me his name and I'll run a check.”Shit! That slipped out without him wanting it to. Since their meetings had begun he'd not told heranything about what he did and Harbor hadn't asked; amazingly. When he peered back up at herover the top of his thick-rimmed glasses she was chuckling quietly to herself; adorable.“Aww, you want to keep me safe.” The escort teased. “How protective of you, Hank.”Harold instantly latched onto the nickname and questioned it. “Hank?”Harbor shrugged. “Well, I'm not expecting you to tell me your real name like ever, but I dobelieve you when you say your name is Harold. I don't like the lie lingering around us so I'm goingto call you Hank from now on, it's a name I've given you so it's not a lie and sort of cancels out thefact you're lying to me.” Those polished emeralds fixed on him. “You have secrets and I don'tmind, everybody has secrets.”While slightly convoluted he couldn't argue with her logic, it also meant she wasn't afterinformation which was refreshing to say the least. He took a moment and a bite of eggs before hefinally spoke.“Isn't Hank usually a diminutive of Henry rather hand Harold?”The raven-haired beauty shrugged. “ Now days they're interchangeable, I think.”Finch usually just preferred Harold but he had to admit in the back of his mind he liked thisnickname, most of the ones he got were from Detective Fusco and were normally just insults like'Mister Vocabulary' or 'Glasses'.Harold didn't have long to start over-thinking though as Harbor noticed his blank-ish expressionand started talking again. In a way he was thankful for that, all too often Harold couldn't stopthinking.“Hank, it's very rare for a whore to have a friend who knows she's a whore and isn't onethemselves.”Finch found himself genuinely taken aback. “We're friends?”Somewhere inside his mind a little voice had hoped but Finch hadn't allowed himself to confirm ordeny it.Those dazzling green-eyes sparkled at him and beautiful didn't do them justice; radiant maybe.
Harold highly suspected a man could get lost in those impossibly green orbs.“We could be.”“And why would I want to be your friend?” He teased back with a friendly expression.Harold asked more for a test than anything else and Harbor paused a moment as if to ponder heranswer; he busied himself with his breakfast.“You don't have a lot of friends and nor do I.” The escort told him as if it were simple. “We can bebeneficial to each other in that regard. You want anonymity and I have no issue in respecting that.You're highly secretive and fairly paranoid, you don't like becoming a creature of habit and yethere you are sitting with me again so clearly you share a liking for our budding friendship.”Gods her mind amazed him. Most people shuffled through life only noticing the bare minimum butHarbor picked up on such little hidden things with ease.“How do you do that?” He asked with a small, disbelieving shake of his head.She flashed him a played down expression. “I'm not your low-level, found her on a street corner,whore, Harold. The men I have sex with I see regularly, I learn who they are, what their tells are.After long enough of doing that – spotting everything – you learn how to do it with people you'venever met.”Impressed he watched her as she continued to sip her coffee and eat her pancakes and fru
Series: Part 1 of A Whore And The Man Who Doesn't Exist Stats: Published: 2019-12-15 Completed: 2020-03-17 Chapters: 23/23 Words: 76971 Mystery Creates Desire by Black_Lotus Summary (Episode Tag S02E15) "Madam, it's best not to flirt with the concierge of a hotel when you're a prostitute for said
