Jon Irons had begun to half-suspect (well, more than half, truth be told) that Hannah had thought better of his offer and decided to blow him off. It was only to be expected... in her position, how could she afford to let down her guard enough to give in to the cravings that simmered beneath that classy exterior? So he shrugged, and pushed the indulgent day-dreams as to the enjoyment that could be wrung out of and delivered unto that body of hers, and got on with things.<br/><br/>The thing in question was a half-dismantled motorcycle engine he was lovingly reconditioning when his phone bleeped. He might have ignored it, but he made a habit of setting special ringtones for... certain numbers. Even ones he didn't anticipate hearing from again. Curiosity piqued,  Jon set down the carburettor with a grunt and wiped the worst of the grease from his hands with a cloth before checking the phone. He couldn't stop the grin that spread across his lips as he saw the message, and quickly thumbed a reply.<strong>I'll watch whatever you've got.</strong><br/><br/>He cleared away the worst of the mechanical carnage and scrubbed his hands thoroughly with Swarfega, getting the mechanical muck off them. Jon prowled restlessly around his bungalow house, cleaning the table and couch in case their surfaces ended up covered in bare flesh, and fetching a large folding toolbox out of his room. This one didn't contain wrenches and screwdrivers, though, but instruments for a rather more precise and intimate set of manipulations. The latest Black Keys album rang out on the stereo as he finally laid out the rocking-stool sex machine to one side. Best not to have it sitting out in the open...<em>might make a bit too strong a first impression</em>.<br/><br/>At last, after guessing the drive time from Beverly Hills to here, Jon strolled outside and opened the gate that closed off his driveway from the street. This area of the sprawling suburbs operated under the theory that good fences made good neighbours, and the heavily street-arted wooden walls cut off the back yard cum parking space cum scrap metal collection behind his house from the street and prying eyes. The invitation laid, Jon lounged on the back steps, his arms folded, smirking to himself as his appetite grew.