The Bad Tenant

It was a quiet Saturday morning in Austin, Texas. The late June sun had begun its relentless ascent, promising another day of crushing heat, but inside the Marshall residence, the air conditioning maintained a cool refuge from the sun's intensity.

Jessica Marshall made one final pass with the vacuum across the cream-colored rug and then clicked it off with a satisfied sigh. After hours of cleaning, organizing, and rearranging, the lower floor of their home finally looked polished and welcoming. What had once been a glorified storage space and a seldom-used guest room was now transformed into a comfortable apartment.

Jess stepped back, resting her hands on her hips, taking it all in. The room was simple but stylish. Muted beige tones on the walls created a warm atmosphere and light wooden accents added texture and depth. A plush, cream-colored rug lay beneath the coffee table and a potted plant with glossy leaves added life to a corner. The space felt cohesive and intentional, everything she'd designed it to be. It looked like something from one of her interior design portfolios, the kind of space she'd proudly show a client.

Jess, as always, was meticulous in her presentation, whether it was a room or herself. She turned heads wherever she went, and had the kind of curves that made men forget their names. Her beautiful face had even graced several modeling campaigns before she chose Interior Design as her profession. Even now, dressed in simple black leggings and a fitted dark blue T-shirt, there was a grace to her movements that couldn't be taught or practiced.

There was something else about her too, something harder to define. She possessed the ability to look insanely sexy without trying. It was an almost unconscious sensuality that radiated from her in the smallest gestures. It was the sway of her hips when she walked, the way she absentmindedly bit her lower lip while thinking, her slight frown of concentration, the curve of her smile, all a seemingly innocent combination that created something magnetic. She exuded pure, raw sexuality and moved through life with a natural allure.

Upstairs, she could hear Tom's voice, slightly muffled but still distinct, echoing through the house. He was on the phone, probably handling work calls even on a Saturday. Even after six years together, four of them married, his deep, steady voice still had the power to calm her nerves.

Tom was tall and lean, his body toned from years of dedicated running. His dark brown hair was always styled and his handsome face always clean-shaven. Tom was always well-groomed and always presentable. He was ambitious, reliable, steady, and in many ways, the perfect husband. He was always there when she needed him, never too demanding or confrontational. He handled life's problems with a level head, even when Jess felt like screaming in frustration.

Their differences complemented and balanced each other. He was more serious and structured. She was more spontaneous and passionate. They were the kind of couple others envied: attractive, intelligent, ambitious, and hardworking. Yet beneath the surface, subtle cracks were starting to form.

Jess and Tom had met in college through mutual friends, and their connection had been instant and electric. They fell deeply in love and married soon after graduation, certain they'd found their perfect match. That felt like a lifetime ago, their youthful optimism now tempered by the realities of adult life.

Today, financial strain weighed on them. Rising interest rates on their mortgage, car payments for both vehicles, and their goal of accumulating savings for a future baby were starting to suffocate them. But it wasn't just the mounting expenses that poked at Jess's peace of mind.

It was Tom's mistake, the cryptocurrency investment that still stung the most. Jess had been furious when he'd lost a significant portion of their savings in that ill-fated gamble, and even though she'd softened her stance outwardly over time, the anger had never truly gone away. It simmered underneath, a dull, ever-present resentment that flared up whenever she thought about their financial situation.

Her eyes moved to the clock on the wall, its hands approaching noon. Robert, their first prospect, would be arriving any minute. From his application, she knew Robert was a twice divorced, fifty-five-year-old man. He stood out from the other, younger applicants. Robert had been more forward during his phone conversation with Tom, mentioning how he could help around the house, fix things, and even upgrade their plumbing. It was a tempting proposition. After all, Tom wasn't exactly the handyman type, and Jess loved the idea of finally making some of the changes she'd been fantasizing about for their home.

"Jess?" Tom's voice floated down from upstairs. "Can you come up here?"

"Just finished," she called back, unplugging the vacuum. Her top clung to her curves as she stretched, working out the kinks in her lower back.

Upstairs, Tom was pacing their kitchen, phone pressed to his ear. He gave her a smile as she entered.

"Yes, Mr. Caldwell, we're definitely still on... No, that won't be a problem at all... Perfect, we'll see you soon." He ended the call and immediately pulled Jess into his arms. "You've been cleaning for hours, babe. Take a break."

"Can't." She squirmed away playfully. "We have tenants coming."

"The place already looks amazing," he assured her, reaching for her again. "And you look amazing."

Jess dodged his grasp with a laugh. "Tom! I'm all sweaty."

"I like you sweaty," he growled, finally catching her around the waist. His hands slid down to cup her ass through her leggings.

"Stop it," she giggled, even as she responded to his touch. "We don't have time for this."

"We always have time for this." He nuzzled her neck and Jess allowed herself to melt into him.

Then reality intruded. The doorbell chimed.

"Shit," Tom muttered, releasing her reluctantly. "That must be Robert. I didn't think he was that close."

Jess brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear and straightened her top, smoothing the fabric over her curves. "I'll get it. You finish up your work stuff."

Opening the door, Jess blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback by the figure that filled her doorway. Robert Caldwell stood there wearing a faded blue T-shirt that clung a little too tightly over his belly and jeans that were slightly too baggy hanging low on his hips. He was bigger than she'd imagined, taller than Tom, and wider too. He was bald, and his face, with its stubble, had a rugged quality that showed his fifty-five years plainly.

"Afternoon," Robert greeted with a slight nod. "Jessica, right?"

"Yes, you can call me Jess," she confirmed, offering a bright, professional smile and extending her hand. The moment their palms met, she felt the roughness of his skin, calluses built up from years of manual labor. They were working hands, strong and capable, marking him as someone who spent his days building and fixing rather than typing at a keyboard. "And you must be Robert," she added.

"Call me Bob," he said, stepping past her into the foyer with casual confidence. He didn't waste time with pleasantries or small talk, instead he immediately began to assess his surroundings. His eyes moved methodically around the space, taking in the details of the house as if he were already planning improvements.

Jess was momentarily caught off-guard by his complete indifference to her presence. Men, especially new acquaintances, usually couldn't help but steal glances or even stare blatantly. They typically got flustered or stumbled over themselves around her, their words becoming awkward, their smiles too eager. It wasn't something she actively sought out, but she couldn't deny the satisfaction it brought her. But Bob barely seemed to notice her at all.

"So, this is the place," he said, turning to face her with an appraising look. His eyes weren't on her but on the crown molding above her head. "You've done a good job with it. Clean. Neat. Could use a few upgrades though."

Jess raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback by his directness. "Upgrades?"

"Yeah," Bob said, nodding toward the ceiling. His arm extended upward, drawing her attention to the lighting. "See those lights? They're old, gonna start flickering soon. Probably need new wiring. And that door frame over there?" He gestured toward the entrance to one of the bedrooms. "Looks like it's shifted a bit. I could take care of that too, tighten things up. Same with the plumbing. If you've got older pipes, they're gonna need a good looking over. I could take care of all that."

Jess blinked, slightly overwhelmed by the flood of information and his assured manner of delivery. Bob's tone wasn't critical or condescending, just matter of fact, as if he were reading a list of simple tasks. She was used to clients pointing out things they wanted changed when she worked on interior design projects, but this was her home, and his immediate assessment of its flaws made her feel strangely defensive.

"That sounds... helpful," she said, trying to maintain her professional composure. "But why don't I show you the whole apartment first? I'm sure you'll want to see it before making any plans for improvements."

Bob gave a nod, seemingly satisfied with her response. As they moved through the apartment, he scanned each room with that same appraising eye. Jess watched as he moved around the space, running his hand along the walls, checking the door hinges, and even crouching down to look at the baseboards. He was thorough, methodical even. He moved through the space like he was already fixing it in his head.

In the bedroom, Bob gave the bed a little shake, testing its stability. "Gonna need something sturdier than this."

Jess felt her cheeks flush. "I'm sure we can arrange-"

"Hey there!" Tom's voice broke through as he bounded down the stairs. "Bob Caldwell? Tom Marshall. Sorry about earlier."

As the two men shook hands, Jess found herself glancing between them, taking in the stark physical contrast. Tom with his boyish good looks, lean runner's frame, and soft hands stood in sharp contrast against Bob's weathered appearance, broad shoulders, and rough hands. It was like looking at two different species of men, each representing opposite ends of some primal spectrum.

"Nice place you've got," Bob rumbled. "Needs some updates though."

"Oh?" Tom's eyebrows rose. "Like what?"

For the next twenty minutes, Bob led them on a meticulous tour of the apartment, pointing out issues that Tom and Jess had overlooked or hadn't considered significant.

"See these baseboards?" Bob crouched down, running a finger along the edge. "They're starting to separate from the wall. Easy fix, but if you leave it, moisture can get in."

Tom leaned in, intrigued. "I never would have noticed that."

Bob moved to the kitchen, opening and closing cabinet doors. "Hinges are loose here. And here." He pointed to barely visible gaps. "I can tighten those up, maybe replace a few."

In the bathroom, Bob turned on the faucet, watching the water flow. "Pressure's not bad, but I bet I could improve it. Probably some mineral buildup in the pipes.

Tom's eyes widened. "You can do that?"

"Sure," Bob nodded. "It's not complicated if you know what you're doing."

They moved to the electrical panel, where Bob explained the benefits of updating to a more modern system. "It'll be safer, more efficient. Could even save you money on your electric bill."

Throughout the tour, Tom peppered Bob with questions. Jess observed the interaction, noting how Tom was clearly impressed by the older man's breadth of knowledge.

Back in the living room, Bob's eyes swept the room one final time, taking in the details she'd so carefully arranged. "Nice layout. Feels private down here. I like that."

Jess nodded. "Yeah, that's what we were going for. It's got everything you need. Living room, two bedrooms, kitchen, bathroom. It's completely self-contained, so you have your own space."

"You two live upstairs?"

"Yes, that's right. Tom and I live on the second floor," Jess replied, walking over to the sliding glass door that led to the backyard. "You'd have access to the yard and the pool too. It's mostly private." she said, sliding the door open.

Bob followed them out where the pool shimmered under the midday sun. He surveyed the backyard with the same careful attention he'd given the interior, his eyes narrowing as he took in the small luxuries: the pool, the patio, the lounge chairs.

"Looks good," he said, giving her a nod. "Real good. You two did a nice job setting this up."

"Thank you," Jess replied, her tone a little more relaxed now. "Actually, I'm an interior designer, so I put a lot of thought into the space."

Bob raised an eyebrow, looking directly at her. "Interior designer, huh? So you provide the ideas, and I do all the hard work making it happen?"

"Exactly," she replied with a grin.

Bob smirked. "That's the way it's supposed to be. You handle the pretty stuff, and I'll handle the heavy lifting."

As they made their way back inside, Tom turned to Bob. "Do you have any questions, Bob?"

Bob paused for a moment. "I meant to ask, is there laundry?"

"Yes, there is," Jess answered. "It's beside the garage, just a few steps outside the unit. We'd share it, though, since it's the only one in the house."

"That works," Bob replied. "Better than lugging my laundry to a laundromat every weekend."

As they reached the front door, Tom gave Bob a quick smile. "If you think of any questions, feel free to call. We'll be in touch soon."

"Sounds good," Bob replied, shaking hands with the both of them. "Thanks for showing me around."

Once Bob left and the door clicked shut behind him, Tom turned to Jess with a grin and ran a hand through his hair. "What do you think?"

"He's..." Jess searched for the right word. "Intense."

"But helpful, right? All those repairs he mentioned... sounds like he knows what he's doing."

"Tom." She placed a hand on his arm. "Are you sure about this? Having someone like him living downstairs?"

"Someone like him?" Tom's eyes gleamed with something she couldn't quite read. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," she said finally. "Just... he's different from what I expected."

Tom laughed, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "Come on, babe. He's just a harmless old man. Trying to impress us with all that handyman stuff. It's not like he's gonna take over the house or something."

Jess almost laughed at Tom's naivety. "Harmless old man?" Jess thought. There was nothing harmless about Bob. Everything from his broad shoulders to his subtle knowing smirk suggested a man who took what he wanted. The thought made her nervous but she didn't push the subject. Tom saw what he wanted to see. But Bob would be helpful, no doubt about that.

"Yeah, well, we'll talk about it later," she said. "We have other people to consider too."

Tom nodded, though his expression remained thoughtful. "Yeah. I'm going to go make a few more calls, see if any other applicants are worth looking at." He headed back upstairs, leaving Jess alone with her thoughts.

Jess walked back into the apartment, surveying the space one more time. It felt different now, as if Bob's presence had somehow changed it. His assessment of all its flaws had stripped away some of the polish she'd worked so hard to create. She could see what he meant about the lights, the door frame, all the little imperfections she'd overlooked in favor of aesthetics.

---

The weekend had been a blur of unfamiliar faces and forced smiles as Tom and Jess played host to a seemingly endless parade of potential tenants. Each showing blended into the next, their home invaded by strangers who poked and prodded at every corner. By Sunday evening, they had a stack of applications on their dining room table and the both of them were drained. They still hadn't reached a consensus on their future tenant though Bob's assessment of their home's flaws lingered in both of their minds.

Monday morning arrived with its usual subtle cruelty. Tom's Apple Watch vibrated against his wrist, the gentle buzz pulling him from dreams he couldn't quite remember. Beside him, Jess slept peacefully, wrapped in Egyptian cotton sheets, a splurge from better times.

Her blonde hair spilled across the pillow, and even in sleep she radiated a sensuality that both thrilled and terrified him. The gentle rise and fall of her breasts beneath the thin fabric and the way one leg had escaped the covers to reveal a stretch of tanned thigh took his breath away. She stirred slightly at his movement but didn't wake, instead shifting to expose more of her flawless skin.

As Tom gazed at Jess's sleeping form, his cock hardened involuntarily. He imagined other men seeing her like this, their eyes roving hungrily over her curves, their hands aching to touch. The image of a faceless stranger's fingers tracing the outline of Jess's nipple through the sheet sent a jolt through his body. The confusing mix of arousal and anxiety coursed through him, his stomach knotting with insecurity even as his cock strained against his boxers.

He had a nagging fear that he wasn't enough for someone of Jess's caliber, that he wasn't truly worthy of such a goddess. What if she realized she could have any man she wanted? It was this very anxiety that propelled Tom out of bed each morning, driving him to work longer hours and push himself harder. He had to prove, both to Jess and to himself, that he deserved to be by her side. With renewed determination, Tom steeled himself for another grueling day at the office, reminding himself that every extra hour, every difficult client, was a step towards securing the life Jess deserved.

With practiced stealth, Tom slipped from their bed, the hardwood floors feeling cool against his feet. He tossed his shirt over the plush oversized armchair in the corner of the room, its burgundy velvet surface already laden with yesterday's discarded outfit, before making his way to the master bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, he ran his electric shaver over his stubble. A quick three-minute shower followed before he dried off with a fluffy towel. The familiar routine played out as it always did: bathroom, dress, breakfast, departure.

His wardrobe choice was the same predictable business casual attire he wore most days; dark chinos, a button-down shirt, and his signature brown leather oxfords. He could almost hear Jess's playful criticism of his conservative style choices. 'You dress like a congressional intern,' she'd tease, her fingers often toying with one of his shirt buttons. 'Would it kill you to wear something different? Maybe even roll up those sleeves and show off those forearms?' Tom would respond with his usual chuckle and a noncommittal promise to 'think about it,' both of them knowing full well that tomorrow would bring another variation of the same outfit.

The morning commute crawled along Austin's increasingly congested highways while talk radio murmured about tech stocks and housing markets, each word hammering home his financial predicament. Tom's fingers drummed against the leather steering wheel of his Lexus IS, a car that now felt more like a burden than anything.

His mind drifted to the stack of rental applications on their dining room table. The extra two thousand a month would help patch the hole his crypto disaster had torn in their savings, but it felt like an admission of failure, a declaration that he couldn't provide for Jess the way she deserved. Every application was a reminder that their dreams of starting a family were suspended, that the nursery they'd planned was now destined to become a stranger's bedroom.

The office was already buzzing with activity by the time Tom arrived. A chorus of keyboard clicks and phone conversations filled the air as he made his way to his desk, balancing his leather briefcase and a fresh cup of coffee from the break room. He settled into his ergonomic chair, one of the luxuries the company provided.