I was a junior in college and looking for a place to live. I didn't live at home anymore. I lived 300 miles from my family. I didn't want dorms - too noisy. I didn't want roommates - not enough privacy. Apartments - couldn't afford it. That left me with only one option: to move in with someone who was renting a room.
I had read an ad in that paper that someone on 6th Street was renting a room at $60 a week. That was dirt cheap and had me very interested. I called the number from the ad and spoke with the owner of the home, Bill Holbrook. We had set up a time for an interview that Saturday.
On Saturday morning, I combed my wavy, brown hair to the sides and pinned them with barrettes. I liked Bill's voice; he sounded like he might be handsome. But that was my usual female instinct kicking in. On the phone, he was polite and quite the jokester, which I've always found attractive.
I put on my miniskirt and shirt and headed over to his house. I rang the doorbell and stood there anxiously. A moment later a tall, older man answered the door. He had a bit of gray at his temples, and he pretty eyes; a light brown color. He was very tall too. 6'2" I guessed. He looked maybe in his mid or late 50's.
"Hello Lisa, please come in," he said, opening the door for me to walk in the house.
"Hi Mr. Holbrook," I stuck my hand out it. "It's nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too....And you call can me Bill. All this 'Mister' stuff makes me feel old," he said.
"Alright," I laughed.
"Come on honey, the room's this way," he said.
I followed him down a small hallway to a bedroom at the end of the hall. He opened the door and I walked in. It was a cute little room with a nice bed, a dresser, and a shelf. It also was connected to a small bathroom.
"It's very cute," I commented.
"Yes, it used to be my daughter's room. She lives on her own now. Interested?" I looked at him and smiled. He caught on and grinned back, "I mean, are you interested in the room?"
I giggled, "Yes, very. And the closet looks big enough too," I said as I explored the room a little more thoroughly.
"Well, good," he said. "Is it a definite or do you need some time to think it over?"
"Oh no, it's definite!" I said enthusiastically.
"Great," he laughed. "Let's go into the living room and talk a little some, you know, get to know one another?"
I nodded, "Sure."
We went in the living room and sat on the couch. We talked about college and about my part-time job at a nearby café and about my family. The subject shifted onto him. It turned out he was working on a novel and could work from home. He was a widower - his wife having died three years ago. He was 59 years old and he had a 30 year-old daughter living out of state. He shook his head when he found out I was 20.
"I can't remember back when I was 20," he laughed. "That was a while ago."
I giggled, "So where is your room at?"
He seemed surprised by my question, but answered. "It's upstairs."
"Oh, that's nice," I said, gently touching his arm. He smiled. The arm-touch worked every time, I thought to myself.
We agreed that I would move in at noon.
At noon (with his permission), I backed my car into his front yard so that we could begin unpacking my boxes and putting them in my new room.
We talked as we worked, and I realized I liked watching him working. He may have been approaching his senior citizen years, but he still looked good and he seemed awfully strong. Not to say he looked 35 - he looked his age; he had a few wrinkles and his hair was well it's way to being completely gray.
My 5'2" 100 lb. frame was exhausted by the time I dumped the last box into my bedroom. I plopped into bed, the covers messed between my legs.
A moment later I heard Bill come in and felt him take the covers from between my legs. He accidentally brushed my bare thigh. I let out an involuntary moan. He stopped for a moment, afraid that he had awoken me, and then covered my body with the blankets, tucking them around my shoulders. Soon afterward I fell asleep.
When I awoke, the room was pitch dark. I groggily got up and fumbled for the light switch on the wall. I looked at my watch: 11:35 p.m. I had a pang of hunger and headed for the kitchen. There was empty paper and plastic bags all around the kitchen. He must've picked up groceries while I was asleep. How sweet.
I washed my hands and fixed myself two ham sandwiches and poured some potato chips into a bowl, grabbed a Pepsi, and went out into the living room and flicked on the tv. There wasn't a sound in the house, so I assumed Bill was upstairs asleep.
While I ate, I thought about Bill. I wondered. I wondered how big his cock was. I wondered what kind of lover he was. Did he have the hots for me? I giggled out loud at my question. I hoped that he did. I sure did for him. He seemed like such a gentleman.
After I was done eating, I went to my bedroom, showered and put on pajamas - shorts and a t-shirt. Since I was wide awake, I decided to arrange my room to make it my own. I set up my clock/radio, my computer, put up pictures of my family and friends, and all that usual stuff. I had left my bedroom door open, but still squealed when I heard a knock on the doorframe.
Bill chuckled.
"God," I laughed. "You scared me!"
"Getting everything ready?" he asked.
I nodded as I opened my suitcases and started to put away my clothes. He asked if he could help me, I eagerly agreed and we talked as we hung up my clothes and put them in the dresser drawers. He mentioned he was a slight insomniac.
"How come all writers are nocturnal?" I asked.
He laughed, "I don't know, but it seems like a pretty common trait."
"A common trait among the talented ones," I said.
"Now how do you know that Little Lisa?"
I giggled, "I can tell."
He picked up an article of my clothing, "Is this is a top or a skirt?" he asked.
I smiled, "That's a tube-top, here, I'll take it." I gently took it from him and folded it into one of the drawers.
"I guess fashion has sure changed," he commented. "I remember girls wearing girdles and slips. They don't wear those anymore."
"Have you been peeking where you aren't suppose to?" I teased.
He laughed, but blushed when he came across my panties and bras. I felt bad that he was embarrassed. I pushed them to the side and said I'd get to those later. With all the clothes put away, except for my undies, we stood there awkwardly.
