The Chairman's Tramp

One.

The man -- or rather just a boy, really -- took a deep breath, trying and failing to settle his bouncing leg. He'd been waiting for almost an hour. He glanced at the clock again; if he had to wait much longer he would be late for his shift...

A chair creaked, and his eyes darted to the brunette behind the desk. Her eyes flashed up to meet his. "Mr. Blackwood will see you now."

He stood and smoothed his shirt for the hundredth time. "Thank you." The boy moved to in front of the large mahogany double doors. He paused, collecting himself, then knocked.

"Come in," boomed the voice from within.

He entered, having to try harder than he'd like to admit to open the heavy door. The man he had come to meet had his back turned to him, taking in the view of the city below through the massive window.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Blackwood. Thank you for meeting with -- "

Mr. Blackwood cut him off. "I have plans -- I am sure -- that are much more important than whatever this is about. Cut to the chase, boy. I do not have time to waste."

He swallowed hard. All of the confidence he thought he had slipped out under the door and was miles away by now. "Of course, sir. I need a loan."

"How much do you need?"

"...Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars."

At this, the man turned around, his piercing blue eyes seeming to want to cut the boy in half. He was definitely more handsome than the photos online: strong jaw, carefully styled hair, and just enough facial hair to say he could grow more if he wanted to but he preferred it this way. On top of everything, he dressed immaculately.

He folded his arms disdainfully. "And why do you think I would lend any sum of money to a child like yourself?"

"All due respect, sir, but I'm not a child. I'm nineteen, and I have three jobs! I'd be able to pay you back after some time, I just -- "

Again, he was cut off. "And, if you are so high and mighty with your three jobs, why do you need a loan?"

"I don't see why that matters! I clearly have reliable sources of income, so I'd be able to pay you back. Isn't that all that matters?" His face began to heat up as he became flustered.

Mr. Blackwood chuckled, and he walked around his grand desk towards the boy as he spoke. "Let me assure we have a mutual understanding of the situation. You come into my office and expect to be fit in without scheduling a meeting ahead of time. You want a quarter of a million dollars, yet you will not tell me why. And, is it safe to assume you have brought no evidence of employment except for your word?"

The boy was silent.

"What is your name?"

"Atticus Moyer. Sir, I'm desperate. I'll do anything."

Mr. Blackwood's fingers grazed the boy's jaw, lingering on his chin for a few seconds. He suddenly felt the older man was much too close. "Well, Atticus, as I said: I have more important matters to attend to."

Atticus's heart fell into the pit of his stomach. "Please, sir. I really -- "

The man simply held up his hand. "I trust you can see yourself out."

He hung his head and meekly nodded, turning towards the door. Mr. Blackwood took a seat behind his desk. "And, Atticus," he called just as the door began to close, "I will be expecting you at The Falcon tomorrow to discuss the details of your loan. One o'clock sharp. Do not be late."

Atticus grinned. It would be hell finding someone to cover his shift at such late notice, but it would be worth it. "Thank you very much, sir. I'll be there."

Warning: This story does NOT depict a healthy BDSM relationship. Please do not use this as a sample as to how the relationship should look.