Sell or Be Sold

We property investors like to think decisions are all about the facts. Which is total bollocks. Emotions rule. Facts bend to emotion. It was happening right now. Looking round a show flat. Part of a 20 unit development called The Millhouse. 

“…all the units gross yield six to seven percent…”

I could have pulled that statement apart. I’m an accountant first. More like five percent. But emotions were taking over. Claire Miller was my corporate dolly bird dream. Which made me inclined to listen to her. Against my better judgement.  Deliciously indulged curves in a tight fitting black dress, heels and a jacket. Jet black hair and cute glasses. Looking younger than she probably was. Plenty of botox. Perfect white teeth. Amazing skin. Sophisticated, but a little tarty.

Very sexy.

Then a modicum of reason kicked in. I was a sensible man. I made money. Time for a critical question.

“How did you get to those rental figures?”

“These are from our lettings department, who are the biggest letting agent in Marsdenshire, you can look at the figures here…”

Claire reached down to the coffee table for the rent schedule. The move put strain on her tight fitting jacket. The button popped open. She had a plump belly. Flushing just a little, Claire tried to button it back up. An effort.

“I just had a week in Cape Verde” she said.

“Quite” I stammered, soaking in the sight.

“Too many Pina Colada’s!”

Emotion was taking over, again. I pretended to read the rent schedule. Rather I imagined her drinking Pina Colada’s by the pool and stole a glance at those curves. A voluptuous hourglass that was filled out in the middle. 

“I’ll show you the master bedroom. This one has a balcony, so it’s one fifty rather than one forty but it should rent out at…”

I followed on. Her tight dress and heels forced Claire into a sexy wiggle. 

“…as you can see its premium quality finish with Safina king beds and very spacious, if you go with the furnished pack...” said Claire.

I surveyed the room.

“…and out here’s the balcony…”

I stepped out. An overcast Autumn day in the British Midlands. Looking out onto the A69, a Kwik Fit and a railway line in the distance. Claire was still running through her sales patter. Telling me how well located The Mill was. "Just ten minutes into Chesterford..." One hand resting on her jacket button. Protectively. Concerned it would pop open again. 

It was cold outside, so we went back into the flat. Claire completed her sales pitch. Jacket button still in place. Button taut. Telling me about the reservation process. £2000 down which reserved one. Then she ran her close.

“…these have been selling so quickly you need to get your reservation in now. I sold three last week and have got so much interest. It’s such an ideal location” said Claire “I partner with a great mortgage broker who can find you the best deals , will you be buying cash or with a mortgage?”

She bit her big, perma pouting, cosmetically augmented lips…and said nothing. The assumptive close. Cash or mortgage. Not, do you want to go ahead? She shifted her weight from left to right heel. The front slit on her dress stretched. I kept my mouth shut. Logic was kicking in. This wasn’t the first time I’d been sold to. Sell or be sold. Claire ran her fingers through her jet black hair. She was selling.

“I have my finances sorted” I said.

"Are you using a broker or your bank? We can always beat the bank rates, so its worth our mortgage team taking a look..."

"Cash, for this one."

Claire nodded. Blinking. Like the wanted to raise her eyebrows, but the Botox made it impossible. Her lips kept up the perma pout. But there was a twinkle in her eyes. Cash had that effect.

“I am interested, but need to think it over” I added.

“These really are great buys. Properties like these in Chesterford are snapped up so quickly, I really don’t want you to miss out Mike. I sold four last week….”

I could have pointed out she’d sold three just minutes ago. But held my tongue. I really wanted to please Claire. Something she no doubt traded on. There was a comfortable laziness to her sales patter. A complacency. Like she didn't have to make too much effort. The laws of attraction.

“I’ll think about it overnight.”

“Aw, I’d really love to get you signed up now.”

I laughed.

“I’m sure you would! Give me a call tomorrow at twelve.”

“I’ll fill the form so you just have to sign, would it be the one or two bedroom your interested in Mike?”

“The two bed, with a balcony.”

She pooched her big bum out, and wrote the form out. Her sugar and cream curves once more on show. Handing the form to me with the perma pout. 

“Thank you” I said.

That evening...

I caught the late train out of Chesterford. The last one down to London. I was drinking black coffee, watching the darkened world whizz past outside. The train was quiet. I reflected on the day. I liked the town. Property prices were relatively low and rental yields were good. On the M78 motorway and had a mainline railway station. All good for the logical brain.

I thought about the estate agents I’d met. That thought took me back to Claire Miller. She won on logic and emotion. The Mill was a good buy. And I couldn’t get the thought of her drinking too many Pina Colada’s out of my head. 

“Ummmm…The Mill’s a good first punt.”

I rested back, watched as the train flew through the town of Duffield, non stop. Neon light flashing past in a blur. I ran The Mill’s numbers over in my head. Trying to keep to logic. Returning the the front slit in Claire’s dress. I loved front slits, showed off a delicious extra glimpse of thigh. Claire had powerful thighs, like she’d once been an athlete who’d chunked up…swimming or maybe gymnastics…or…

“Damn it, focus on the numbers!!”

When the train stopped at Leicester I had a decision. I would buy a single unit at The Mill. Test the waters. My first dip into the Chesterford market. I took my smartphone. Three of the estate agents had sent rambling emails with endless Rightmove listings. Claire had sent a simple text:

‘Great to meet you Mike, look forward to the ressie form tomm x’

I smiled. That kiss. It meant so much, and so little. Sell or be sold. I was sold.