One day, in my earlier forties, I was hanging out with some of friends at the bar, drinking too much for a weekday. As it sometimes did, the conversation turned to past exploits with women. I never shared much with the group, only punfunctory tidbits here and there to keep them satisfied, but my mind always drifted back to a girlfriend I had nearly twenty years ago, and the traumatic series of events we went through. A story I never dared to share, until now, in the comfort of anonymity.
My girlfriend and I were traveling through Australia in the early 2000s. We were childhood friends growing up in Toronto, but it was until university that we expressed feelings for each other and started dating. We had been together almost five years, including two difficult years working office jobs that we both hated after graduation. So we did what many do, or which many they wish they had done before having any real responsibilities: we took what we had saved and decided to see the world.
Australia was our last stop. At that point, after months of travel, we didn't have much money, and we didn't have proper visas. That didn't prevent us from staying, and we scraped by on the generosity of others and by earning a dollar or two when we could. We were staying at a small surf town on the coast, and it was pretty much as cheap as Australia could be.
Charlotte was pretty. She had a face on which my eyes could just rest for hours - dark eyebrows, piercing eyes, small nose, soft jawline. Her frame was petite, athletic. Her tan she had worked on for months, although we never went to a nude beach and the tan lines were dramatic - tan lines that reminded us of what we left behind us at home. Her breasts were medium sized, a lovely swooping shape. They were slightly bigger than you'd expect from a girl of her size, but not disproportionate. Her nipples were soft and large normally, but would get smaller and tight when she was aroused.
We didn't have much to our names, but we managed to find a one bedroom place near the water. The landlord lived in the unit below. An older guy - maybe early fifties at the time. He taught surfing to the tourists that came into town in the summer. The rest of the time he seemed to be a functioning alcoholic. We never really saw him with a woman, but had plenty of surfing buddies.
Life was carefree. Our only real concern was our dwindling funds. Neither of us had worked during the trip, as we had expected to return home as we came close to running out of money. What we hadn't anticipated was our complete lack of desire to return home and, as a result, our need to live as cheaply as possible for as long as possible.
One day, we came home to a ransacked apartment. They had found the small safe that was kept in the back of the apartment, tucked away in a laundry closet and bolted into the wall. They hadn't cracked the code but instead had simply ripped the safe from it's mounting points and walked away with the entire unit, to be opened later with proper tools.
Our remaining cash was in the safe, along with our passports. We immediately filed a police report. They informed us they didn't deal with many robberies, but would do what they could. They hadn't had a robbery reported in months. It seemed so strange to the police - and to us - that we'd get robbed in this town, and that the thieves had turned the place upside down but had only taken the safe. Almost as if they knew where to look. The cash only amounted to a couple months of rent, for which we were only paying five hundred dollars a month. It seemed so high risk for such little reward - but I suppose the thief couldn't have known what the take would be. But wouldn't there have been a string of robberies known to the police if it wasn't some random event?
Part of me was thrilled that our passport was stolen. Of course, it would be a huge headache to replace, having learned from experience losing one a couple of years earlier in Europe.
The bigger issues was that we'd run out of money. The remaining cash was whatever was left in our wallets - thirty dollars. Our cards were maxed out. Charlotte was too proud, or maybe too headstrong, to ask anyone for money, and I didn't feel like I had anyone to turn to in my family.
We took a long walk down to the water and then west along the beach, up above the dunes. We tried to come with a plan. It was the last week of November. The food we had we could stretch a couple of weeks, but rent loomed over us. It was due in a few days.
One of us would have to get a job, which seemed nearly impossible. Staying without visas meant that we couldn't put our office job skills to use easily, and neither of us had any experience in the service industry, where one may expect to be paid under the table. Our surfing skills were limited, and we didn't have any other marketable skills.
We decided that we'd split up the tasks. Charlotte would look for remote work, which was limited in those days. I'd try to find a job as an unskilled worker, somewhere in town. Somewhere, hopefully, within walking distance, since we had no car.
The remaining days of November came and went. On the first of the month, a Wednesday, we found ourselves knocking on our landlord's door, then sitting in his living room. We told him we wouldn't be able to make rent, and asked if we could get a one or two week extension.
Tony shook his head. "I can't do that. If I started to give you extensions, it's a slippery slope. I have bills to pay, too."
We were silent. I thought for sure Tony would be amenable. I could see that Charlotte was devastated.
Tony exhaled slowly and looked up. He open his mouth to say something, but stopped.
"What are you thinking?" I said.
He sat there, unmoving. After a few seconds, he spoke.
"I like you guys as tenants. But I also like money for rent, and you don't have that. So, I ask myself: what else would I want in exchange for my services as a landlord? And that's really the only thing that I can come up with. A simple transaction."
He took a sip of his beer, eyes fixed on Charlotte.
"If I can see Charlotte naked, I'll let you stay."
I gasped involuntarily but Charlotte kept her composure. Before I could even get my bearings, she responded coolly. "That's it? You see me naked and we get to stay for free?
He shook his head. "That's good enough for the first week" he said. It was clear he was making everything up as he went. "But once I've seen her naked, that's no thrill the second week. So the price will increase." He leaned back into the couch and took another sip of beer. His gaze never left Charlotte's face. She shifted her weight on the couch.
"What then?" she asked apprehensively.
Charlotte's reluctant interest emboldened him and he was more blunt in his delivery this time. I could tell he was thinking about how much more he could ask for.
