Thank you to Mary for encouragement and Elizabeth for editing. And thank you for reading.
The economic environment, being so difficult, meant that my wonderful college degree that left me thousands in debt didn't assure a great job upon graduation. I'd worked a couple jobs before convincing my landlord to give me a shot at being the on site property manager for my building.
He'd either fired, or the prior PM walked out, depending on the story you believed. But after being given the opportunity to earn the job, by overseeing the duties for several weeks, my successes led Mr. Orvis to give me the position.
That sounds great! It is great. I was able to quit one, and then both, of my part-time jobs. I got partially paid rent and was able to begin paying back my loans while banking a few bucks.
Everything was wonderful, sort of. You see, I left out some of the story. While things were indeed rosy, the part about how I really got the job, and what has happened since, caused me some severe humiliation. The first two stories in this series tell the story, at least to recent history. And while I wasn't going to write more I will say that numerous emails and comments have incented me to bring to you my dear readers what you've asked for: what happened after the activities I wrote about in the other segments occurred.
In some respects, it's hard to write about me being, well, a whore to my job, but on the other side of the equation it has been an erotic ride getting, keeping and excelling in my job.
Let me ask you, have you ever done anything, well, naughty, to get a job, a promotion or a great grade? If you are female, one degree one way or another, you very well might have. My mother admitted to me once dressing seductively to entice a professor to get a better grade. Oh, she didn't sleep with him or anything, but she did admit to sitting in the front row with her stocking tops showing to get his attention.
It was wrong, stroking off the curmudgeon Mr. Morely and his acquaintance, Thornton, the one-named guy. That's right, for them to take their apartments at full price --- a feat which impressed my boss Mr. Orvis --- I secured the job at a decent pay and lowered rent of my own to boot.
And at a recent whack off session both renters got the sensual persuasion of my hands, one on each side of me. It was so erotic, but as good things go, it was made quite wrong when my boss appeared in front of me and I took his cock in my mouth.
Yes, I sucked off Mr. Orvis while jerking off Mr. Morely and Thornton. It was obviously a set up by the men, but it indeed happened. And for the next week I couldn't look any of them in the eyes. The guys were good, never mentioning anything, but I knew they knew, I knew I acted like a wanton slut whore, but they didn't rub it in my face.
And there wasn't a repeat the following month. I jerked off one of the guys on a Wednesday night, and it was actually kind of nice when he had flowers for me and a very nice writing book as a gift. The other wasn't as nice, but it was still a simple hand job with a lot of oohing and oh yes mutterings while I worked.
It wasn't until Mrs. Spencer in 2B left me a note that anything unusual occurred. Mrs. Spencer lived with her 18 year old jerk of a son, just the two of them after her divorce. He was supposed to move on to college but was taking a year off, working for tuition money but really playing video games most of the time. He was swarmy, and was always making inappropriate comments. I knew I couldn't have him find out about my nocturnal activities because the onslaught of his barbs would never end.
When Mrs. Spencer opened the door I knew something was amiss. She had a look of disgust on her face and mocked me with her talk. "So, missy, you've been a busy bad girl I hear," said the 50ish woman. "I wonder what your boss would think if I told him he had a slut for a property manager. There is nothing like a boss knowing his charge was a wanton sex addict, you hussy."
Acting as if she was from Mars, I of course denied having even a sliver of an idea of what she was talking about.
"Your visits to Thornton and Morely ring a bell? I hear you've been the active slut," said the woman.
Of course I feigned lack of knowledge until she came up with the doozy. "I heard them talking the other night, about your hand job, blow job and how you fuck for gifts. I heard it all. I'm thinking of calling the authorities. We shall see about this."
Knowing she had to have been making things up, or working of little pieces of information, I cautioned her to be careful what she said. She responded with a photo of me in Morely's apartment, taken from the fire walk, of me mimicking a blow job while jerking him off.
"Not so prissy now, are we?"
I didn't think there were any laws being broken, but it could be an uncomfortable situation. I loved my job, and with the economy where it was, did not relish the thought of having to find a new one. Mr. Orvis wouldn't fire me, of course, but if enough renters knew about my activities and if others learned as well it could be uncomfortable and who knows what Mr. Orvis' boss might think.
"You could sleep with my son. That might do it. He could use a good piece of ass. I'd keep it quiet," said the woman, almost mocking me. "God knows he's never been laid."
No way, no way I thought, but all I could do was shake my head.
I must have looked terrified, and the woman suddenly turned super nice. "Ah, come on Kimberly, take a deep breath. We can work this out like women. No problem. I was just saying Skip hasn't had a girl and probably spends more time with porn than books. Besides, I have an idea that could help all around."
She paused, as if thinking but I believe mostly for effect, allowing the situation to sink in.
"How about if I gave Skip a hundred bucks a month allowance to do some odd jobs around here? Things you could get done on the cheap? Painting or cleaning up, sweeping and making the outside area look tidy. Maybe plant some shrubs. You'd look great with Mr. Orvis. He'd do work and wouldn't think anything about it."
I asked the woman what she would want in return, what was the catch.
The woman smiled and led me to her living room. She told me to remain standing, but sat herself on the couch.
"I want some of what the guys in the building get. Give it to me and nobody will know anything, you will have a worker you don't have to pay for, and you might even like it."
With that she lifted her skirt, slipped her hands into the elastic band of her blue panties, and slipped them down her legs. "Come on girl, get on with it," was her simple command.
Wow, there it was in front of me, a real, genuine well-trimmed pussy. It is not as if I'd seen something for the first time, I mean, I'd been undressed before other girls before at slumber parties and caught glimpsed in locker rooms. But here was Mrs. Spencer on display just feet away from me. Her pussy hair was darker than the hair on her head, so she obviously had color used. It struck me how she took the time to carefully manicure her pussy. I mean, I spend time doing it, but I didn't expect the older woman to have the same grooming techniques.
"I'm waiting," said the woman, and as if to help spur me along she reached down and opened the petals of her pussy to my view. "Do it."
Slowly I slipped a finger along her crease, surprising myself at its wetness. She was obviously excited and actually moved to my touch. I slipped first one and then two fingers up and down her pussy, spending a little time wiggling them around in time to her movements. Soon I heard an "oh yes" from above and I knew that while I was breaking my girl-to-girl virginity I was doing something right.
Giving up the fight, I lowered my head to her core and slid my tongue up and down her slit. I'd tasted pussy before, my own, both from my fingers and on cocks I'd sucked after they'd been inside of me. But this was so much different, so very hot. I got lost in the actions, licking all over the wetness with my nose sliding along the hair above her clit.
Soon I began nibbling and licking that sensitive bud drawing gasps and groans from above. She was pushing against my face as I devoured her snatch. On one hand I couldn't believe what I was doing, on the other it seemed so natural. I kept thinking how naughty this was, how wrong. But hearing her getting into the action and enjoying herself so much I knew it had to be right.
"Oh yes, Kimberly, lick my snatch, lick it like that. Oh yes, that's it, do me, do me," mumbled the woman old enough to be my mother. I was licking the pussy of a lady and liking it. What had I become? I didn't care, it was so very hot. The woman rocked against me, pushing her pussy against my lips.
Funny, she was being like a guy! I mean, she was pushing against me, but instead of a bulging cock it was a soft wet pussy. Like guys, though, the grunts and groans from above were the same. Oh, she was unladylike, but it was the same as a man humping against my mouth uttering guttural tones to my licking and sucking.
It was as if I was in a trace, or this was a dream. I surely couldn't be going down on another woman! No way.
Mrs. Spencer was rocking and enjoying the action, so much that soon I felt her pussy pulsating and she pulled back from me. I pushed forward kissing her pussy as much as I could as the woman because tensing up and cumming right on my mouth. Damn, that was so hot.
The woman tensed and then there were sighs of relief. She settled back into her seat, eyes closed and a look of satisfaction on her face.
Apparently I could add pussy licker to my expanding resume!
# # # # #
The second floor apartment facing the street was an awful one to rent. It was the noisiest, closest to the street, closest to the stairway, and had been available for more than two months after the former tenant – an elderly lady – moved back in with her daughter across town. I'd had a few inquiries, but nobody took the bait.
Despite my nocturnal activities, Mr. Orvis was somewhat worried about it vacancy, as I'd set the bar so high with the rents coming in on time and the rest of the building being filled. He wasn't mad or anything, but it was a bone of contention.
So it was with high hopes when Riley Johnson knocked on my door inquiring about the unit. Johnson, it seemed, had lost his house through divorce, and had been living at a tiny apartment. He wan't a little more room, and he said his friend Thornton recommended the building as being a nice place to live.
Thornton? Well, I guess he also knew about the discounting offer in effect then. Damn, when will it all end? Was nothing secret anymore?
"Call me Riley, I'm not as stuffy as Thornton. Besides, who goes around only having people call him by a last name? That's weird!"
As much as I didn't want to, I sort of liked the quirky guy. He was somewhat nervous, as if he knew the "secret" I shared with some of the dwellers in the building but didn't believe it true. He looked at the unit, questioned about the laundry room, the distance to the market, and other nondescript questions.
