It was draughty and cramped. It was damp smelling and the skirting boards were full of mice. To get to it you had to climb three flights of creaking stairs. But it was perfect.
It had a view of the park, or at least a view of the park's most ambitious treetops. It had hot water. Orange coloured hot water, but still. And, best of all, it was all mine.
I'd spent the first year at university living in a dorm. For nine months I'd suffered as, day by day, my three roomies cute little mannerisms had degenerated into infuriating habits. Now, in my second year, I 'vanted to be alone'.
I almost hadn't been able to afford it, my college girl dream. Luckily, though, the landlord was a guy, and the kind of guy who obviously didn't get out much.
He was short and podgy, his belly drooping low over his belt. He was also bald, although luckily only on the top. This meant that he could so easily fool the world by combing hair from the side of his head over his shining scalp. And that smell of stale sweat that clung to him, I guess he thought that just added to his character.
He spent the whole of the little walk around talking to my breasts.
Not that I minded. When realised how perfect this place was I was glad I wasn't wearing a bra, and by the time we got around to discussing the rent I'd already unhooked the top two buttons of my blouse.
'The last girl paid œ200 a month.' He'd told me, manfully trying to avert his gaze as I leaned forward on my chair. After a brief struggle he succeeded, and began to stare at my legs instead.
'Oh.' I said, my disappointment real 'I couldn't go more than œ160, really. Even if I starved.'
Slowly, making the most of a true Sharon Stone moment, I uncrossed my legs, twisted on my seat, and recrossed them. The hem of my skirt rode upwards as I did so, and I suppose I was glad I was wearing panties.
'œ160 would be fine.' He grunted like a man in pain. Then, sweating by now with the effort of maintaining his debonair poise, his eyes flicked briefly up to meet mine 'Plus bills.'
'Well, OK, then.' I said, recrossing my legs as I stood up 'Let's shake on it.'
I lent forward as I took his hand, my breasts swinging heavily forward as I did so. He swallowed heavily and gripped my hand with a sort of controlled desperation as he ogled them. I was a little surprised to feel my nipples stiffening, putting it down to the rasp of cotton against my sensitive skin. After all this little pot bellied man was hardly the type of guy that was supposed to be a turn on. Just the thought of him touching me . . .
Quickly, before my arousal became too obvious, I stood back up.
'Move in anytime.' He said, and the room was mine.
X
It was fantastic to finally have my own place. I scrubbed and cleaned for almost a whole day, the windows thrown wide open to the chilly autumn air. Then I carted my two suitcases and three boxes of stuff up those three flights of stairs, lit a joss stick to hide the last traces of moldy wood, and relaxed.
Home at last!
I saw the landlord again the next day. He was waiting in the cramped hall the foot of the stairs, wearing only a pair of black karate pants.
'Hi.' I said, waiting for him to stand back so that I could pass.
'Hi' He replied, hot eyes sliding from one breast to the other. I felt myself starting to blush beneath his scrutiny, and shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.
To break the tension I let my hand wander up, intending to cover my cleavage. Yet somehow, instead of covering my breasts, I found myself stroking them, touching them with the sort of gentle insistence that my boyfriend had before we'd made love.
My landlord swallowed as I rubbed a thumb over one ripening nipple, feeling the heat of it through the thin cotton of my blouse. Watching him watching me I slid my hand down to cup my breast and lift it upwards for his inspection.
With a start I realized what I was doing. I dropped my hand, and bolted.
'Must dash.' I said, squeezing past him to rush up the stairs. As I wriggled past him, my belly and breasts brushing against his, I heard him groan with undisguised pleasure, like a man enjoying a fine meal.
'See you.' He called out, watching me climb the stairs. I was trying, and failing, to resist rolling the cheeks of my ass as I did so.
'See you.'
Back in my room I made some tea, threw it away, and opened a beer.
Shit, what had come over me? That guy was fat, bald, old enough to be my father. And yet every time I saw him I started acting like a bitch in heat.
'God, I'm a slut.' I told the empty room, wrapping my sweaty thighs around the beer bottle and grinding myself to orgasm against it's hard surface.
X
The next day my heart was racing as I turned he last corner before my apartment. Would he be there again? I'd thought about it this morning, and purposefully worn a thick sweater and jacket. It hadn't been until my second lecture that I realized that, unaccountably, beneath my thigh length skirt I was panty-less.
'What a thing to forget.' I told myself, with a sudden rush of excitement 'What if he looks up my skirt when I climb the stairs?'
I thought about that for a while until, sitting there in the front row of the lecture hall, I was overcome with a sudden, terrible lust. I felt the smoothly shaven folds of my sex plumpening beneath the gentle caress of the airs cool fingers, felt myself beginning to flush with barely contained excitement.
The professor droned on, oblivious, for what seemed an age. Finally he finished and, despite the fact that I still had two more lectures to go, I rushed home.
'I hope he's not there.' I lied to myself, the thick liquid of my own juices slicking my thighs as I trotted home.' He might look up my skirt. It's so short. He might see how wet I am, and think it's because of him.'
I opened the door, fumbling with my key. The landlord was nowhere in sight.
'O good.' I told myself, in an agony of frustration. I waited for a moment and then slowly climbed the stairs. Still no sign of him.
'That was lucky.'
I let myself into my apartment, stripped off, and headed for the shower. With a ~blink~ the bulb went out.
'Perfect' I grumbled, and turned on the tap. Water hissed out of the chipped chrome head and I stood and waited for it to turn from orange to gray, rubbing the goose bumps that patterned my naked skin.
As I did so I looked around the dim little room, trying not to think about what a slut I'd become. Perhaps there was something wrong with me. Perhaps it was stress. God, back there in the lecture hall I'd been so close to reaching down, pulling up my skirt and . . .
That's when I noticed it.
It didn't seem much. In fact, it really didn't seem anything. Just one more chipped tile, the corner long gone to leave a puckered hole in the plaster. But from behind this one, so faintly that I wouldn't have seen it I it hadn't been caught by the steam, came light.
For a moment I stared at it stupidly. I considered going over to examine the hole, but some instinct stopped me. Instead I turned my back on it and stepped into the shower. I didn't feel the sting of hot spray against my skin, though, I was too busy thinking.
'My God.' I told myself, pretending to be outraged' It's a peephole! '
I quickly glanced over my shoulder at the little crack of light. Could I see something moving beyond it? I wondered, and lent slightly forward, thrusting out my ass as I did so. Hot water began streaming between my cheeks as I opened my legs.
'The dirty pervert. I could report him.'
Squirting a thick jet of gel onto my loofer I opened my legs wider and bent my head even farther down. Now my ass was striking so far out that the water hit me in the small of the back before surging into my cleft. I thrust the loofer between my legs and started to rub myself clean.
'He might even be watching now.'
Pressing the sponge harder into myself I scrubbed it back and forth, first scouring my pussy with the deliciously rasping material, then sliding it between my splayed buttocks to tickle my exposed anus.
'God, he probably is watching! '
I began to rub myself faster, pressing my face forward against the cold tiles of the shower wall and reaching down with my other hand to slip the tip of one finger into myself.
'It's disgusting.' I whimpered and began to imagine the landlord stroking his big, greasy cock as he watched me, stroking it up and down, up and down, panting with excitement as I humiliated myself in front of him, acting as if I was nothing more than his little slut . . .
I felt something nudge against my chin and glanced down to find an old plastic hook, stained yellow with age. I wrapped my lips around it and sucked it into hungrily my mouth.