How Single Mothers Pay Rent
Troublemakers. Every apartment has them. In my experience they fall into one of three categories: The Loner, the Bad Family, and the Single Mother.
Loners: You know the type. Young men, typically single, renting a one-room and never ever leaving. Most are shut-ins and asocial weirdos. Some are thugs. They pay rent but they disturb the neighbors.
Bad Families: You know the type. Mom and Dad screaming, arguing, even smacking. Small kids breaking things, kicking holes in walls. Big kids yelling outdoors like maniacs. Cops show up twice a month to sit outside and listen in like voyeurs, unable or unwilling to get involved. Your tax dollars at work.
Awful, right? My friend, it gets worse. What I find most despicable of all is not the weirdos and the screamers and the dead-eyed dads, its single moms.
I know that in this day and age a single mother is a good thing, she is a genuine fucking hero and God smite anyone who dares claim otherwise, who dares criticize. Well to that I have only this to say: "How come there's so damn many of them? They can't ALL be heroes."
And why do heroes skimp on paying rent? If I were a waiter slaving for tips and you gave me zilch, nada, wouldn't I have the right to be pissed? Would anger not be justified at least in some small way? Well, I am not a waiter but I am a landlord. A mildly successful one at that, still located in a part of the country which I will not disclose because while policemen amuse me at a distance they are far less funny in person. I am a coward at heart but that is why I have lasted for so long and through so many bad economies.
I am a winner. And winner's take what they want. Vincere est totum. Is that not the way of the world? I'm getting sidetracked, which is what happens when you're old enough to be someone's father.
Single mothers. They're not ALL bad. I may rant a little but I find them quite charming. And, seeing as I've decided to be totally honest, I'll tell you the truth. I get a persistent hard-on whenever I see a new mom touring our leasing office. The same way a stripper removes each article of clothing piece by piece, revealing more and more of her naughty body, I delight in watching new moms expose their true selves to me.
The dance goes something like this:
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It was March and chill winds made me shudder, my testicles wrinkled and miserably small as if trying to shrink themselves out of existence. There were a hundred things to do, a hundred tasks I wished I could shrink from. How I would love to switch places with some beach bum! In winter I spend more time thinking about work than anything else. But the Mother of Three helped changed my mind.
She stumbled in through the front door like a confused balloon, bumping harmlessly into people and things. I noticed instantly her hair, platinum blonde and only neck-length. She wore a zip-up jacket with the zipper down, revealing sizable breasts which were as affected by the cold as my sack. When I say her nips were hard, I mean they were like diamonds. Each little gemstone poking through woolen white cloth. Little beacons of arousal. I was smitten.
I hope that reading the word "balloon" didn't mischaracterize her figure. Her figure was fine, Olympian almost. She looked like an athlete that had fallen out of practice but never quit altogether. Shapely legs, firm ass. What I liked most was belly. Come summertime she would be wearing a tanktop with her stomach exposed, I just knew it.
I was determined to see that midriff.
"Hello, welcome to XYZ Apartments," I said in a friendly-but-not-too-friendly fashion. "One of our girls in the back can help you out."
She thanked me. As we chatted, I noticed a little critter clinging to her leg -- a son, probably about my nephew's age. His hair wasn't blonde, it was black. Probably got his dad's DNA during the big genetic game of musical chairs.
The mom went to go speak with Sharon, one of my receptionists / junior managers. The kid starting fooling with the plants. I left him be, mainly because I had a great view of his mom's ass from down the hall. She stood in the doorway with Sharon, hand on her hip, rear jutting out just a little. I could see a hint of crack through those black slacks.
That was when I started getting hard, my cock willing itself back to life despite the draft. When the mom left she thanked me, actually thanked me as I stood with a hand in my pocket and my little man standing up at full mast. We shook hands as I throbbed for her. Her touch was soft.
Sharon told me her name was Alice and she had put in an application. Only it wasn't really Alice, you see.
Cops, coward at heart, remember?
Anyway this is how it always starts. The mom walks in, overjoyed. She signs some papers agreeing to pay me. Later on (we're getting there) she can't pay her rent. So she pays me back in the oldest of old fashioned ways. I was looking forward to it and kept whistling for about a week.
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Lets walk away from Mother of Three and spend some time with Mother of One. Her name is Yoko (except not really) and she is my favorite project so far, my most successful product. A dropdead gorgeous Asian momma, she's fallen on hard times and got a little older, a little less gorgeous. What she lacks in youth she makes up for in raw talent, learned experience. Her hips move in ways I can't describe. Her pink tongue goes places you wouldn't believe.
She must have been a teen when she had her one and only child, because he's in high school and she still looks twenty five, give or take a few wrinkles. She tells me Asians age slower. I don't quite believe her but I laugh anyway, she likes making me laugh because I hold great and terrible power over her. Her son is a credit to high schoolers everywhere, he listens to his mom and obeys her even when he's pissed. His mother is a credit to single moms. She understands fully how much she owes me. She goes to great lengths to placate me.
