A divorcee in his early sixties rents a small apartment, one of two on the third floor of an older home. A strong minded and bitchy young business woman moves into the other apartment. In a few hours while he grudgingly helps her move in, she converts him from a normally independent individual into her unpaid house servant by exploiting an older man's desire for sex with a young female.
Part I
The apartment was small but comfortable. The landlady gave me a good deal on the rent in return for some maintenance in the house and garden. She lived on the first floor; there were another apartment on the second and mine was one of two on the third. The other apartment across the hall was empty and I was to fix it up and paint it as part of the rental agreement. I had barely moved in before the old hag, she was actually younger than my sixty-one, wanted the painting done right away because she had someone to rent it.
I worked three long days to get it done and the new tenant moved in on the fourth. I had an appointment with my lawyer about finalizing my divorce and didn't get home until late that day. My door was partly blocked by moving boxes so I knocked on the new tenant's door to get permission to move them. A female dressed in lose fitting fatigues five feet or less in her mid twenties looking very tired opened the door.
"Yes what is it," she snapped. "I'm very busy!"
"I'm sorry Miss but I live across the hall and your boxes are blocking my door." I spoke slowly with an apologetic tone.
"Oh yes Mr. C, the janitor. You aren't crippled! Are you? Just move them over!" She snorted some unintelligible expletives and slammed her door. I had wanted to say I'd be glad to help her but...wow I thought, I've got a veritable cyclone as a neighbour; perhaps though she had just lost it because of a rough moving day. My wife had accused me of being snappy with her, one of the reasons we split; even though she was pretty fair at it herself and she had always been quick to retort. I moved a few boxes over and entered my apartment.
There was a knock on the door a few minutes later. I opened it and was faced with the cyclone again. "Did you take one of my boxes Mr' C?"
"Now why would I do that, maybe you should look in the porch down stairs. I think I saw some there." She stared at me fiercely and scanned the apartment as if looking for her box.
"Everything was brought up here the boys said, it couldn't be down there!"
"I'll be glad to go down and check for you Miss."
"It's Mz, Mr. C, and yes maybe you should and earn your keep!" She stomped back into her own apartment slamming the door. I stood for a minute and absorbed what she had said. Moving tenants was not in my job description but maybe just this once; she would probably calm down and apologise later. Moving can be taxing. I walked down the two flights. There were three boxes there. I picked up the two top ones and brought them up and then went right back down for the third. That was a very heavy box, containing a TV. The first two boxes were gone when I got back up so I knocked on the door. She opened it wide and motioned me inside.
Take it in the living room open it up. It's a brand new twenty-seven inch. You can set it on the stand and hook it up; I had the cable connected so it should work."
I went along without commenting. This woman had a strange effect on me. I had never been bullied like this at home or at work; well maybe in the army. I opened the box and set it on the stand looking for the plug-in on the wall and the cable connection. "No, no, no what is the matter with you the cable hooks into the VCR not the TV"
"I'm sorry Mz. I'm not very good with these things."
"Well, just get the damned VCR out of that box over there and set it on the shelf if you can't figure it out, I'll fuck'n well do it myself!" I did as she asked and and actually managed to hook it up and turn it on and then headed for the door. "Yes, get the remaining boxes and bring them in." I was heading for my own apartment but went along and brought in the six boxes.
"They all go in the bedroom, you know where that is, don't you?"
"Well I fixed up the place so I think so." I set them on the floor next to the bed and turned to leave.
"That's no fuck'n good on the floor; set them on the bed and open them damn it. I assume a janitor carries a pocket knife!" I obeyed or that's the feeling I had and slit them open. She came back a few minutes later setting down a hamper. "Do I have to tell you everything; those boxes are full of clothes. There's the closet and there's the dresser. That box has dresses, jackets and pants on hangers; heavy things on the left and lighter things on the right. Shoes and boots in that box go on the close floor, sweaters on the shelves, undies in the drawers and so on. That box has bed sheets and blankets; might as well do the bed too. Let's get with the program." She left for the other room. "Oh," she yelled "fold the boxes when you're done and take them to my storage space in the cellar."
Once again I felt compelled to just leave; why was I taking this? Hanging the clothes and setting up her shoes was not too bad but the underwear and brassieres and garter belts that felt weird but also erotic. I had never touched my wife's under-things and rarely seen them the way she always managed to hide herself when changing. I felt very strange and trancelike and realized that I was developing a semi. The undies were mostly soft and silky not at all like her personality. She was wearing sloppy fatigues and it was hard to visualize her body in those things. There were tons of underwear and not enough space in the dresser. I stood with a pair of panties trying to decide where to put them when she surprised me.
"Why don't you sniff them while you're at it, turns you on does it?"
"Oh no I...I ...there's no room for anymore. Where do I ... I mean."
"You were married; you've seen women's undies before."
"Well barely...I mean."
"Aha I see; who were you married to: Queen Victoria?"
"You might say that," I nodded emphasising my answer. "Just leave the rest in a box and I'll find a place later. I got no provisions yet why don't you go make us some coffee. You've got coffee?"
"Sure, I got cookies too."
"Good bring it over when you're ready, we'll take a break." When I returned with a tray she was sitting at the kitchen table typing on a laptop.
"Great um, smells good and homemade cookies, you still know how to cook." It was the first nice thing she'd said.
"Well that's what I did in the army" I wondered why she said still. I pushed a cookie plate close to her computer. We drank and ate cookies in silence while she tapped away
"Well I think that will do for tomorrow's schedules, oh, wait there's one more. Listen Mr; C. go run my bath, that box has towels and bathroom things in it. You can unpack while it fills and oh, there bubble bath stuff somewhere in there too. I followed her orders in a fog not understanding why. She came in just as I finished unpacking.
