This has been one heck of a year. Early on I was juggling two jobs, skimping on nearly everything and merely trying to make ends meet.
Today I got flowers on my doorstep.
Okay, lots of girls get flowers from guys. I know. But it's not just the flowers, but the new job that I've really gotten good at, as well as the people I've met. I've got a few bucks in the bank, a little bit of a wardrobe and some security.
My wrists are toned from working out too.
Oh, I haven't been to the gym, nor have I purchased any weights. I'm not lifting things around the house or the apartments I oversee for that matter, unless you consider the one trash can that has broken wheels. Nope, I haven't become one of those workout wonders who hit the gym and work out several days a week.
The stronger wrists, for those who've thankfully read the first three installments of this series, were from stroking the cocks of several men who reside in Mr. Orvis apartment building. Uh huh, you read that right, I stroke dicks as an incentive to get the apartments filled. I'm embarrassed to say it, it's somewhat humiliating, and those wrists aren't the only parts of me getting a workout over the last few months.
Damn, what a ride this has been! On one hand, I'm happier than I was a year ago, more financially secure, and sexually, well, I'm very satisfied. But of course I know some of the things I've done were unequivocally wrong, but well, so very, very right.
Take Mr. Orvis. He took a chance on me. He had fired the former property manager of his building, and I, a resident working a couple jobs and struggling to make ends meet, was available. I volunteered; he took pity on me and gave me a shot.
Soon I had filled vacant apartments with Mr. Morley and a man simply going by the name of Thornton. Oh, he had a first, middle and last name on the lease, but to all his friends and acquaintances he insisted on his last name being his preferred method of greeting. The guys each drove a hard bargain, a deal that required them to pay top dollar for their space and sign an iron clad lease. Oh, and in return they got a nice apartment and once a month I had to give them each a hand job, but who's asking anyway.
Various other deals were cut over the next several months as friends told a friend or whatever, and all of a sudden, well, I had my hands full!
Okay, so much for my sense of humor, but it was true. Once a month I'd visit my clients, those who rented in the building, and, well, took care of their naughty needs. Once was talked into jerking Mr. Morley off, once we had sealed the deal and the world didn't end, the following escapades were somewhat easier.
Mr. Orvis was more than pleased with my success, and soon I was off probation, had business cards printed and even joined the local property manager association. My job was secure.
Oh, I know it's wrong, I know some would consider me a whore --- heck some of you have written and told me just that. So I guess I am. But for me, given my situation, I justified it all as part of the all is well that ends well syndrome. I got over it. Not that I'd tell my mother what I'd done, that's for sure. But I am dealing with it.
My college loans were being paid off ahead of schedule, I had a nice apartment, had food on the table and had even been on a couple dates with local guys who didn't know about my extra services, they not having the pleasure of having any of them.
So when Mr. Orvis called and said he wanted to meet and talk about a couple things, I was not all that worried about being called in to see the boss but was still a little apprehensive. He wasn't a renter, so he didn't get any of my special privileges, but he was my boss and on two occasions I'd, well, you know. I sucked his dick.
That sounds so wrong, but it was true. I did just that. Twice. Not to get the job, not to keep it, just, well, because. Besides, he didn't know I put in a great word for him with Mrs. Spencer, the woman more his age who had me somewhat under her thumb. Well, between her legs too, was more like it, as I'd become familiar with her pussy when she did all but blackmail me into giving her the same kind of deal as the male tenants.
Mr. Orvis had been a gentleman about his lusty goal. Well, at least as much of a gentleman as a guy who asked a girl to go down on him could be. What I mean was he didn't threaten or demand. He asked. Nicely. And sent flowers afterward. So, while we weren't dating I wasn't some girl off the street.
It was nearly 10 when Mr. Orvis arrived. He met me in my makeshift office in the basement, a place where files bulged and one of the lights always flickered....just enough not to be fixed. It was on the list.
Turns out the first think Mr. Orvis wanted was to thank me for my hard work and getting the apartments filled. I was doing a good job, he said, and he was appreciative. Second, he was heading out of town for two weeks, and I was going to be totally in charge. He told me not to mess up.
I took a deep breath, that wasn't so bad now, was it? Smiling at the man, I asked where he was going.
"Florida. Some old friends and I are getting together to play some golf. Relax and enjoy the sun. But I will be available if you need me," said the man. "It will be my first vacation in a couple years, and I am counting on you to keep the trains running and all that."
Telling him I'd take care of everything, and not to worry, I said everything would be okay.
Thanking him for the flowers, I said they were much appreciated and brighten my week.
"It was the least I could do," said the man. "You were such an angel."
We made small talk for a bit, he asked me about my new friend Caleb, the guy I'd dated a couple times. Mentioning he was nice, but it was still early, Mr. Orvis asked if we'd been intimate. Acting shocked, I said of course not.
My boss smiled an infectious smile. Something was going on in his head, laser flying around it, and we were for a moment both quiet.
He broke the silence. "So, uh, Kimberly, I will be away for a couple weeks, and I wonder if I could ask you a favor."
"Of course, Mr. Orvis, what can I do for you?"
