Room for Rent (closed)

[kaitlyn_sun]

http://i.imgur.com/CqbXFkl.jpg

Bailey flipped back and forth between the two pieces of paper, looking at the two numbers. She turned them, wrote on them, tried to imagine all the different ways you might break up the numbers and try to make them work together somehow, but no matter what she did, there was just no way it would ever work.

She just didn’t make enough to afford to live on campus anymore.

She worked as often as she could at the bar. She took extra shifts. She was starting to bartend. She always made sure she talked up the guys at the bar, dressing in tank tops and jean shorts, flirting up a storm to get the biggest tips possible. No matter what, though, she’d never be able to make enough to afford this housing bill. As it was, she barely had enough to pay for the three weeks she’d already lived there in anticipation for her sophomore semester. She was only able to pay for school at all thanks to her scholarship; her parents didn’t have a dime to give her, but they were SO proud of her for being the first person in their family to ever get to college, it would be heartbreaking to have to go back because of this.

She dropped her head back on her pillow, trying really hard not to cry as she staring at her dorm room ceiling. She thought idly about getting back together with Brad, her ex boyfriend… maybe she could talk him into letting her stay with him for a little? Ugh, no… that was a terrible idea.

“Are you okay, Bailey?”

She wiped at her eyes, trying to force a smile, looking back at Meg, her roommate. She liked Meg, but she was so emotional, she knew she’d wind up having to console HER once she found out that she would have to leave. “I’m… I’m fine… I just…” she sighed, rubbing her hands through her long purple hair “I need to figure something out…”


Finally, she grabbed up her purse and her hoodie, and left the room, walking out of her residence hall. She bit her lip, not even recognizing the small clutch of frat boys outside that whistled their compliments at her as she passed. She wasn’t dressed up or anything, just a pair of leggings, a tank top and her hoodie, but it never seemed to slow them down. No, that wasn’t where her head was at all. She crossed over, passed the dining hall, and out over the quad toward the campus rec center. There were always bulletin boards with different offers for off-campus housing… MAAAAYBE…

She pushed her hood back, and started looking over the offers. “Roommate for studio apt, smokers, dogs…” she wriggled her nose, thinking of living in a studio with another person who was smoking, but she was desperate…

Nope. the price was STILL too high. She exhaled in frustration, feeling the mounting knot in her throat…

And then a much smaller note, one she had never seen before. “Single room for rent in private home, laundry & kitchen privileges, dedicated bath & shower…” and then she saw the price. Oh my god, she thought. Once she paid off her current housing bill she had almost nothing… but… she could JUST afford this!

She grabbed the notice, and flipped open her phone, quickly sending an email to the one listed. Yes, she was interested, she could only afford the amount listed, she was very clean, didn’t smoke, very quiet, could she PLEASE come meet and talk about the room?

She pressed send, and plopped herself into a chair in the rec center, desperately clutching her phone, waiting for an answer…


--------------------------------

She dressed as conservatively as she could muster. She wore a nice yellow dress with a wide black patent leather belt, her short-waisted white leather jacket, and pretty white patent leather heels, her purple hair pulled back into a pair of nice braids, a very nice, small, professional-looking purse at her side. She HAD to impress these people…

 

[Smarterwhip]

http://i.imgur.com/OTp6dSp.jpg

Doug Hanson carefully stepped down off the rickety, wooden ladder. He laughed to himself and thought “if I gain any more weight, this fuckin’ thing is gonna break one of these days.” Safely on the freshly-installed hardwood floors, he exhaled and caught his breath.

Doug was by no means obese, but he was a tall, barrel-chested man whose college baseball days were more than 25 years ago. Life had been good to him and his wife, and he was known to indulge in what you’d expect most red-blooded, forty-something men would: beer and chicken wings, red wine and steak, a cocktail too many sometimes. Though he had not completely given up on fitness and stayed somewhat up on trends, he had your typical gut and at best could be described as stocky and handsome in a rugged sort of way. A thick beard helped his look and when paired with his favorite plaid shirts, his teenage niece would tease him by calling him a “lumbersexual”—“whatever the fuck that means,” Doug thought.

He shuffled across the empty studio and clicked the light switch on, the overhead light he just wired flickering to life.

“Ta da!” he snickered. Turning it off, Doug folded up the ladder and took it back upstairs to the brand-new garage he had built earlier in the year.

He convinced his wife to spend some of their savings on a three-car garage to accommodate his growing car collection—vintage Mercedes were his thing—if, and only if, she insisted, he had a rental property built in the basement.

“Fine. I’ll even do the work myself to save us hiring another contractor!” he replied at the time.

He was handier than most and enjoyed fixing things around the house. They hardly needed the rental income—their four bedroom, two-and-a-half bathroom home in Tenleytown was proof of that—but if that’s her price for approval, so be it.

It took longer than expected, but he finally had the modest basement apartment finished by late August. It was more a large room with its own sizable bathroom, but it was nicely done with hardwood floors, a marble-tiled bathroom, high end fixtures, and a decent amount of windows for a subterranean unit. If Doug and his wife had a need for a nanny, this would be the perfect au pair suite, or so he thought. But, though they had been married for more than fifteen years, kids were never part of the plan.

“I’m too old for the shit now, man!” he would often tell his buddies who were in the throes and stress of child-rearing. What he didn’t tell them is that he thought it would be a serious resource drain and didn’t want to be that “old dad” at college graduation.

In any case, given Tenleytown’s nearby location to Washington DC’s many colleges—American University was just a few blocks away—he and his wife figured the basement room would be perfect for a college student. They also didn’t mind if the tenant used their kitchen and laundry room.

“We could use someone interesting around here,” mocked Doug’s wife. She mocked him even further when his pet project stretched deep into the summer and dangerously close to the start of classes.

“Good luck finding a student now, man-genius…most students probably have their living arrangements sorted out by now.” "Man-genius" was her oft-repeated pet name of sorts for him. Doug didn’t mind. Their marriage evolved into more of a partnership than a never-ending, torrid love affair, and she had a point after all.

“Well it doesn’t hurt to throw it out there on Craigslist. If not now, maybe someone will surface. Who knows?.” he replied, and settled behind his desktop computer to tap out an ad.

An avid fan of getting to the point, Doug posted:

“Single room for rent in private home, laundry & kitchen privileges, dedicated bath & shower. Rent negotiable, but asking $400/month. Serious inquiries only.”

He didn’t really know why he added the last line, but thought it would filter out the riff-raff, like miscreants were rampant in the safe neighborhood of Tenleytown, with its single family homes and tree-lined streets.

A couple of days went by without a signed tenant. A few emails here and there, but most lost interest when they discovered the room didn’t have its own kitchen. Frustrated, Doug’s wife told him to “go old school” and post some flyers on campus.

“Why not?” and once the weekend hit, he stopped by a few local colleges and posted the ad in the dining halls and rec centers.

No sooner had he got home when he noticed an email from a “Bailey” someone or another. He nodded and almost couldn’t believe it: student, non-smoker, clean, can pay the listed rent, etc. Is this too good to be true?

“Maybe she’s hot, too.”

Shaking his head at the thought. “Maybe I have become a dirty old man?” a charge often made by his wife when she caught him online surfing for porn. Repressing the prurient thought, Doug replied that the unit is still available, that she sounded “promising” (another flourish he couldn’t resist adding), and when would she like to stop by to check out the unit?

A few minutes after he hit send, a reply from Bailey light up in his inbox.

“Wow.” She must really need a place to live. He suggested a time tomorrow—anytime really since he planned to work from home—and soon a time was agreed upon.

--------------------------------------------

Doug checked his watch. 1:55. In five minutes, the prospective tenant Bailey will be here and hopefully leave having signed a lease. He stroked his furry chin and wondered why he was turned on.

“Nah. This is ridiculous. Just a tenant and some extra scratch. The deal that got me the garage I wanted.”

A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Doug stood up, checked his reflection in the hall mirror, fixed his hair and pushed up the rolled sleeves of his favorite flannel past his elbows up to his thick biceps. He made his way to the foyer, cleared his throat with a faux cough to calm his nerves, and opened the door.

“Holy shit.”

He didn’t speak the words, but he may as well have by the look on his face.

“Fuck. She IS hot!”

His thoughts mercifully not audibilized as he took in Bailey.

She was a college student alright, but she could just as easily pass for a stripper. Maybe she was both?

The first thing he noticed was her long, purple hair pulled back in braids. “Is purple hair a thing these days?” he wondered. She was definitely attractive, somewhere between cute and hot. She was also very fresh-faced with dark red lipstick—was she even 18? Her yellow dress was cute, but the wide, black patent leather belt caught his eye. Fetishes are fetishes after all.

After noticing her purple hair, his eyes darted down to her prominent chest. She was easily a D cup if not bigger he thought, the years of porn rotting his mind in the way that fine wine ages. He also noticed her white leather coat that matched her shiny, white patent leather heels. “Shit. Check off another fetish,” as Doug pondered just how high her heels were.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he blurted out:

“Ummm…hi. You must be Bailey? Sorry, I blanked on your name there for a minute.” extending his large hand forward, offering a handshake.

 

[kaitlyn_sun]

http://i.imgur.com/CqbXFkl.jpg

The door opened, and she felt a little bit of the tension in her chest immediately resolve. She didn’t know who or what she had expected, but she immediately felt reassured. The guy who answered the door was older, but not so much older that he was creepy. He was big and handsome, but not so big and handsome that she would feel awkward. He was a good-looking, friendly-seeming person and she was instantly put at ease when she knew that he was the person she would be dealing with.

“Ummm…hi. You must be Bailey? Sorry, I blanked on your name there for a minute.”

She smiled at him as he held out his big, powerful-looking hand, and gave him her own eager little handshake. “Oh, it’s totally fine, not everyone gets it right the first time. Are you Mister Hanson?” She grinned as his reply, and followed him into the house, and down the side stairs. Her heart sunk for a moment… she hadn’t realized the room would be in the basement…

That is, until she SAW it. It was brand new! Hardwood floors! A huge closet, and so much LIGHT, she couldn’t figure out how they had managed it! And then she saw the bathroom and nearly cried. How could this place be available, and for SUCH a small rent?

She bit her lip, looking at him. “How come no one is accepting your offer?”

 

[Smarterwhip]

http://i.imgur.com/OTp6dSp.jpg

“Funny you should ask that, Bailey. I honestly don’t know. A few said they didn’t like that they’d have to use the kitchen upstairs. But, as you can see, it’s not that a big deal. Right up the stairs and the kitchen is yours as much as it is ours.” He smiled with irrepressible delight at this purple-haired, big-chested, slender pixie.

Doug turned back towards the door connecting the unit to the house’s much older, non-remodeled basement. “So back through the door we entered, if you go right instead of left, you’ll find the laundry room. Wanna see it?”

Standing next to his prospective tenant in the new unit, the smell of fresh paint drifting in the air, Doug noticed he was still taller than Bailey even in her sky-high white heels. She was a petite girl.

He led her back through the entryway and into the unfinished part of the basement and showed the young co-ed the modest laundry room, Bailey's heels clicking first on the hardwood floors and now on the concrete.

“Pretty much what you’d expect. Washer. Dryer. Feel free to use our detergent if you’re not picky about that sort of thing.” Doug’s eyes wandered back to Bailey’s large chest, barely held in by her yellow dress, the fabric struggling to contain her ample cleavage. And her thin waist cinched by the shiny black belt.

“Any other questions? If it wasn’t obvious, it’s available immediately. Could move in today if you like and give you the rest of September for free!”

Doug rocked nervously back in forth in his hiking boots, unsure if he was tense because he was in the presence of a girl less than half his age who looked like a porn star, or if he was about to finally rent this fucking room after weeks of failure.

His phone buzzed with a text message. Pulling out his phone, it was a one word text from his wife: “Well?”

Turning towards the prospective tenant, Doug asked: “So my wife wants to know if you’re going to take the place or not?”

 

[kaitlyn_sun]

http://i.imgur.com/CqbXFkl.jpg

“Funny you should ask that, Bailey. I honestly don’t know. A few said they didn’t like that they’d have to use the kitchen upstairs. But, as you can see, it’s not that a big deal. Right up the stairs and the kitchen is yours as much as it is ours.”

She looked back up the stairs. They came out into a little side room; not their living room, which was on the other side of the main floor, but just a little space with a few chairs and a bookcase. The kitchen had been RIGHT off of it… but the fact was, she had spent the last year living in a dorm room. The rent here was so good she’d actually be able to afford to keep her mealplan. “That’s so generous of you! I probably would have my meals on campus, and I’ll try not to bother your family too much, I don’t want to be any kind of bother.”

He seemed to look at her for a second, and she felt a little flutter in her tummy. She was pretty used to guys looking at her; she spent a lot of time in the gym to maintain her looks, and most of her income came from guys that were flirting with her. But he wasn’t looking at her like that, not really. She kind of liked it.

“So back through the door we entered, if you go right instead of left, you’ll find the laundry room. Wanna see it?”

“Yea, absolutely!” she said, reaching up and absently touching her braid as it sat on her shoulder, following him out of the room, through a side door, and into the unfinished basement. She watched him duck under the doorframe, and she realized that, even though he seemed so pleasant and affable, he actually was even bigger than she had assumed at first. She was 5’4”, normally… and in her heels she was probably about 5’9”... he was bigger still. The laundry space was clean, and simple… the walls were all the poured concrete of the basement slab, but he had painted it all white, and it made it all look so open. Even the LAUNDRYROOM was pretty.

“Pretty much what you’d expect. Washer. Dryer. Feel free to use our detergent if you’re not picky about that sort of thing.” he said as she looked around, kind of in awe of everything. “Any other questions? If it wasn’t obvious, it’s available immediately. Could move in today if you like and give you the rest of the month for free!”

“Are you KIDDING?” she asked, unable to stop herself from bouncing on the balls of her feet. She could kiss him right now! She was interrupted, thankfully, by a buzz on his phone, which he checked, and then looked up at her.

“So my wife wants to know if you’re going to take the place or not?”

She blinked. He was married? That… why did that make her feel a little disappointed? Still this was all happening so FAST. “ Ah… oh my god, yes! Yes absolutely! I actually need to move in pretty quick, but I don’t have a lot of stuff, um… what do you need to know about me?”

“Okay, well, I’m a sophomore, I’m studying sociology, and I just ran out of money so I have to move out of campus housing. I work… you know the scorpion bar downtown? I’m a waitress.”

She followed him back upstairs to the kitchen, where he had a pretty basic lease drawn up. She sat down, tugging at her skirt, and flipped through the pages, making sure she read everything… and then she took his pen and signed it.

 

[Smarterwhip]

http://i.imgur.com/OTp6dSp.jpg

“Ah… oh my god, yes! Yes absolutely! I actually need to move in pretty quick, but I don’t have a lot of stuff, um… what do you need to know about me?”

Doug’s eyes lit up hearing this giddy response. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t care if she was the shittiest tenant in DC with a body like that. But, trying to maintain some restraint and decorum, he stammered: “Ummm, well, you know. I assume you’re a college student—you mentioned campus. What year? Studying what?”

His senses coming to as he repressed his lust. “And...I guess I should ask why you need a place at the last minute? Break up with your boyfriend? You didn’t get booted from the dorms, did you? Also, do you have a job to pay the rent? Student loans?”

“Okay, well, I’m a sophomore, I’m studying sociology, and I just ran out of money so I have to move out of campus housing. I work… you know the scorpion bar downtown? I’m a waitress.”

“The Scorpion Bar is still in business? Well I’ll be damned. Good for you—takes a thick skin for a girl to work that crowd. Let’s go sign a lease, shall we?”

She followed him back upstairs to the kitchen, where he had a pretty basic lease drawn up. She sat down, tugging at her skirt, and flipped through the pages, making sure she read everything… and then she took his pen and signed it.

“That should do it. Let me have a look.”

Doug gave the lease a cursory review, scribbled on it that the rest of September was free, trying not to peek at her cleavage just inches away, he looked up.

“Oh, it’s for one year. I assume that’s okay. We can renew it for longer if the space works out for you.”

Bailey smiled and nodded, shrugging her shoulders a bit like it’s no big deal. Unable to keep from grinning, she replied:

“I mean, I'm here for at least the semester, but I still have three years of school left, and I can’t imagine i'll ever find a living arrangement this perfect.”

“So you said you don’t have a lot of stuff. Does that mean you’re moving in today? I mean...you can if you like. I’ll be here all afternoon.”

 

[kaitlyn_sun]

http://i.imgur.com/CqbXFkl.jpg

“Oh, it’s for one year. I assume that’s okay?”

She nodded, grinning as he made the little adjustments to the lease. This was the Perfect scenario. she’d be sad that she wasn’t roommates with Meg anymore, but honest she felt like Mr. Hanson was saving her life. She only hoped she’d be able to make it up to him someday.

“We can renew it for longer if the space works out for you.”

She shrugged, unable to keep from grinning. “I mean, i'm here for at least the semester, but I still have three years of school left, and I can’t imagine i'll ever find a living arrangement this perfect.”

“So you said you don’t have a lot of stuff. Does that mean you’re moving in today? I mean...you can if you like. I’ll be here all afternoon.”

She bit her lip and thought about it. She really didn't have much to move at all: no furniture or anything, she always relied on the dorm furnishings. She had the normal dorm-room accoutrements, of course, a small mini fridge and microwave, her hamper, a few small plastic racks of personal effects. There was her personal chest, that was probably the biggest thing…

Oh, and her clothes, of course. She didn't spend a lot of money on clothes, but she was a VERY frugal shopper and she LOVED clothes. Her closet in the dorm was packed full to exploding, it was one of the reasons she was so excited about the huge closet Mr. Hanson had built into her room downstairs.

Actually, when she thought about it, if she wasn’t going to have to pay that first month’s rent, she might actually be able to afford a little furniture? She usually used the stuff provided by her dorm room, so she had been thinking she’d have to borrow someone’s sleeping bag, but she might be able to swing by goodwill and buy something to sleep on?

So yes she’d definitely need someone to help her move… she immediately thought of her friend Harriet, from the bar, who actually drove an old conversion van. She was usually willing to help people if they needed it. She was at work right now, but her shift wrapped up around 3.

“Yeeeeaaaaa…” she said thoughtfully. “I think… I think I can. I could probably be there around fiveish?”

She grinned at his reply. She knew it wasn’t very professional, but as they stood up, she just couldn’t help herself; she had to hug him. She stood up on her tiptoes in her white heels, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck as she pressed her body into his, unable to prevent herself from squealing happily. Finally, she let go, grabbing up her purse. “I’ll text, okay? See you this evening!”

She stepped outside, walking down their front walkway to the sidewalk, looking around at what was going to be her new commute. The house was about two blocks from the campus, but they were actually closer to her classroom buildings, since her dorm was on the far side. She started walking towards her dorm, knowing she’d need to have everything packed up. She took out her phone, dialing the bar.

“Hey, can I talk to Harriet?”

She waited a few minutes, still walking. She knew it tended to be hard to get a second to yourself in there.

Finally, the line picked up. “What’s up, Bee?” She asked, her voice unmistakable.

“Hey, are you free after work? I have to move like, today… and I REEEEEEEEALLY need your help?”

She heard her scoff on the other end, and grinned, knowing she would do it. “Fine, but you OWE me.”

-----------------------------------

It turned out that Harriet absolutely refused to let her sleep on a mattress she bought from goodwill. Instead, they went to Harriet’s parents house and collected a spare double mattress, boxspring, and metal folding bedframe they kept in their basement. Still, they went to goodwill, where she found a dresser, two end tables and two lamps all for only a hundred and fifty dollars. She would be in such good shape, but as she was looking around in the store humming the thrift shop song to herself she found an amazing vintage vanity.

She loved makeup. She had worked at a macy’s make-up counter all through high school, and had developed a really artful and understated skill with it; girls from the hall asked her to do their makeup when they went out all the time. She couldn’t afford a real good collection, but she had a talent for finding great free samples of things. Up until now she had been doing her makeup sitting cross-legged on her bed with her desklamp turned outward, using a crappy folding mirror. Is she could have a vanity like this it would make her so happy…

But it was two fifty. It was more than all the other furniture combined.

Any other time she would have walked away, but she had had such amazing luck finding a place, and just felt so blessed that she decided to treat herself. She had the extra money, after all.

Her clothes were all packed up in cardboard boxes she had liberated from the maintenance building, and soon she and Harriet were back at Mr. Hanson’s house. He had left the garage open for her so they could unload her things, and then as Harriet drove off she went up to the front door again, ringing the bell…

But it wasn’t Mr Hanson that answered this time. It was a woman in her forties, nowhere near as tall and warm and welcoming. Bailey smiled at her, eager to make a good impression.

“Hi! You must be Mrs Hanson! I’m Bailey, your husband rented me your room…”

“Oh I wonder why Doug decided to rent you YOU…” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Bailey faltered. She didn’t know what to do. She was used to women eyeing her with suspicion like this, but she had no concept of how to react when her new landlady was doing it. Mrs Hanson, for her part, was already turning and walking away from the door toward the living room. “I’m not going to have fratboys traipsing through my house at all hours of the night, am I?”

“Um…” Bailey muttered, scrambling for a reply as she entered the house. “I mean, no… I pretty much keep to myself…”

She was already sitting in front of the tv, watching some sort of HGTV program. “He’s downstairs, putting a new lock on your door.” She said, clearly not paying attention.

Bailey bit her lip, and turned away, uncertain what she was going to do about that. She went down the stairs, and sure enough, there was Mr. Hanson, hard at work. She smiled at him, tapping him on the shoulder.

“hi…”

 

[Smarterwhip]

http://i.imgur.com/OTp6dSp.jpg

“Yeeeeaaaaa…” she said thoughtfully. “I think… I think I can. I could probably be there around fiveish?”

Trying to focus, Doug heard Bailey say something that she can have her friend help her when she’s done with work at five and use her car. Catching five o’clock, he replied and nodded.

“Sure, sure. Like I said, I’ll be here. Just shoot me a text when you’re on your way back over. I’ll give you the keys then, okay?”

A positively jubilant Bailey sprung up from the kitchen chair and for a second Doug thought she was going to hug him. She paused, and then did hug him! A full on, genuinely pleased as punch hug, her full, round heavy tits pressing up against his midsection.

His immediate concern is that she’d feel his growing bulge in his jeans, but he tried not to press her too close in the hip area, managing to return a sort of a “bro hug” tapping the back of Bailey’s shoulders, but he could not ignore how obviously perfect her breasts were. Were they implants? Who knew? Doug just knew they were perfect and way more than twice the size of his wife’s B cups.

He wondered if he imagined her squealing or if she actually did.

“Must be your first apartment or something? Whoa whoa, Bailey. I guess I'm glad to see you’re so happy to be moving in here.”

Bailey nodded quickly, and smiled broadly, “I’ll text, okay? See you this evening!”

And with that his new 19 year-old tenant spun on her very high heels and bounced out the door.

For a second, Doug’s bravado suggested that just maybe this college sophomore was into him? Maybe he still “had it” but he brushed it off. Being smarter than the average bear, Doug knew this is the exactly the sort of logic that caused older men to get in trouble and behave in ways they shouldn’t. Not wanting to be so cliché, Doug exhaled and rubbed his temples.

But that did NOT mean he couldn’t rub one out in private!

He hadn’t jacked off yet that day and couldn’t remember the last time he fucked his wife. And Bailey...Mary-Mother-of-God. Bailey. That purple-haired bombshell woke up his libido and he needed relief. Doug figured a steady regimen of masturbation will be in order to prevent him from being a lecherous old flirt.

He slipped into the half bathroom just off the kitchen and sat on the toilet after pulling down his jeans and briefs. His thick, above average cock—he took pride when he was younger of being told “you’re the biggest I’ve had” by more than one woman—was already swelling and moist with pre-cum.

Applying a few pumps of his wife’s hand lotion, Doug quickly worked his dick into a full erection. Heavy, rippling with veins, he could hardly believe how aroused this new tenant had made him. "Fuck!"

Doug closed his eyes and thought of Bailey on her knees in front of him, her big tits glistening with lotion as his eight inch penis fucked her pressed-together-cleavage, imagining her moaning and saying how much she loves her big tits getting fucked. How it’s the least she could do for her new landlord…

The cum nearly shot up into his own face, Doug’s orgasm gripped him so hard, bolting his ass to the toilet seat. Stream after stream of hot, wet semen spewed forth from his rock hard cock, landing on the bathroom floor and all over his furry chest.

Spent as the last bit of cum dribbled out of his glans, Doug whispered:

“Jesus Christ, I’m in trouble…”

-----------------------------------


http://i.imgur.com/MA3i2KX.jpg


A little past four o’clock Doug’s wife, Samantha, arrived home early from work.

“Doug, you home?” she called out as she set her car keys in the appropriate catch-all atop the small foyer table.

Samantha--or Sam as Doug called her--was a few years younger than Doug and turned 41 a couple of months earlier. She was pretty in a classic, girl-next-door sort of way with her light brown hair cut in a bob. And vain enough to keep her hourglass figure despite Father Time. Though her politics were liberal, she bore the look of someone more conservative. Pencil skirts and heels preferable to pant suits and flats.

“Doug! Where ARE you?”

Though hardly a dominatrix, Sam liked things done her way, when and how she wanted. She was a strong woman and didn’t become a Senior Vice President before the age of forty at a big DC public affairs firm through charm alone—though she had plenty of that as well and knew how to turn it on when needed.

She met Doug at a bar when they both were in their 20s—he was 26 and she was 23. Sam had just started a new job on Capitol Hill and Doug was in his second year of law school. Their relationship started off more in the “friend zone” with a drinking buddy sort of dynamic that matured into something more over time. Friends and families alike were surprised when they got married a few years later, but now all agreed that they “just made sense” as a couple.

Though both of them had their “is this as good as it gets?” moments of doubt, they stuck together and were happy. Doug and Samantha had a longstanding deal to resolve conflicts by meeting halfway, and it worked—the converted basement rental in exchange for a new garage being the latest evidence of their ability to compromise.

Doug poked his head out the basement apartment door and up the staircase. “I’m down here, Sam!” He ducked into the laundry room and stored the mop he used to give the the unit’s new hardwood floors a quick clean and then headed up the steps to the main floor, his heavy boots marking his approach.

Sam greeted him the kitchen, glass of white wine in hand.

“What are you doing home early?” Doug asked, catching his breath.

“Well I figured I’d be home to meet this new tenant you duped into signing a lease. A college girl, no less?” teasing him with a wink, then poking his belly. “Is she a hottie? Hmmmm?”

“Sheesh. Stop it, Sam. I mean, yeah, she’s cute enough I guess. But, more importantly, she can pay the rent and seems like she’s got her shit together. Okay?”

“If you say so. You could have at least Googled her first to make sure.”

Doug’s silence was answer enough.

“You didn’t, did you? Oh my man-genius strikes again. This one is on you buddy if she flames out. Let’s have a look.”

Samantha set down the wine and pulled her IPad from her purse. “What did you say her name was again? Bailey? Bailey what?”

Doug face heated up with embarrassment when he realized he didn’t even ask Bailey her last name. He spotted the signed lease on the table and flipped it over to the signature. Thankfully Bailey spelled out her full name per the lease’s instructions.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me?” Sam knew Doug had not a clue what Bailey’s last name was. “You didn’t even think to ask her what her last name is? Jesus Christ, Doug!”

“It’s right here! Let’s see…” Doug’s index finger searched the document until it stopped at Bailey’s spelled out name just below her very girly signature. “Bailey...what is this. Bailey Marks.”

“What kind of name is Bailey anyway? Goddamned millennials…” Sam cursed under her breath as she Googled the name. Quickly, the usual Google results listed Bailey’s Facebook page, her Instagram account, some other identifiers such that she was a college student at American University, etc. Sam pulled up Bailey’s Instagram account.

“Purple hair? Huh. She’s a little more than cute, Doug. Pervert!” Giggling and clearly joking, Sam clicked through various pictures which were not out of the norm for a 19 year-old girl. Lots of selfies, a few oddball pics, some inspirational memes, and an occasional vacation photo thrown in with some family portraits.

She stopped on one post and turned the screen to Doug. It showed Bailey at work at the Scorpion Bar sporting shiny red patent leather wedge sneakers, knee socks, cut-off jean shorts that barely covered her ass, and a tight white t-shirt that left little to the imagination when it came to Bailey’s chest size, the red scorpion logo painfully stretched across her prominent tits, red push-up bra visible just above the rip that exposed her cleavage. It was actually a cutesy sort of photo of Bailey lifting two giant beer steins, cheesy smile and all.

“Oh she's cute enough I guess!” teased Samantha, imitating Doug’s lower voice.

Doug was blushing now, clearly guilty of quickly agreeing to this tenant because she was a purple-haired, teenage sexpot whom he barely knew and only met a few hours ago.

“She’s actually seems like a really nice girl. Really, she does, Sam.” Doug offered with genuine sincerity.

Samantha leaned back on the stainless steel fridge, sipped her wine and clicked her tongue. She knew she had him by the balls on this one. Smiling, she straightened herself, walked past Doug and playfully elbowed him in the ribs on her way to the living room.

“Just don’t shit where you sleep, Dougie-boy! You’re smarter than that.”

Doug watched her disappear into the living room and heard the television come to life, the voices of some home remodeling show replacing theirs. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a paper towel. ”Christ, I’m literally sweating...” he thought and exited out the side door to the new garage, opening its door for Bailey’s arrival in less than an hour. He then headed back downstairs to the rental unit to finish its last project: installing a deadbolt lock. Though Bailey was certainly safe from any unexpected intrusions from upstairs, it seemed the proper landlord thing to provide.

-----------------------------------

Just before five o’clock, Doug’s phone buzzed in his back pocket. It was a text from Bailey indicating she was a block away.

He texted back: “Garage door is open. See you soon.”

Doug never installed this sort of deadbolt before and it was trying his patience. He couldn’t get it to line up despite several attempts. So obsessed with getting it properly aligned, Doug didn’t even hear Bailey’s dangerously high heels clicking down the stairs to the rental unit.

A gentle tap on his left shoulder caused Doug to jump a bit and drop the screwdriver he was using. Startled, he turned around and saw Bailey had returned, still in her white patent leather platform heels and yellow dress.

“Whoa! I...uh...didn’t hear you coming!” Doug blurted out, clearly surprised.

What didn’t surprise him were his eyes locking back in on Bailey’s too-big-for-her-body boobs. “How are they so big? Are they fake?” It was going to be a serious challenge to avoid looking at them.

He quickly knelt down to pick up the screwdriver, though he did enjoy another peek as his eyes scanned past Bailey’s chest and thin waist adorned with the wide, jet black PVC belt. Doug imagined how a tight patent leather waist cincher or corset might look on her.

His visual torment was made worse when he finally reached the screwdriver on the floor. Bailey’s thin ankles were elevated in the shiny white heels—practically stripper heels really. “Did she just enjoy wearing such slutty heels everyday because she liked them? Don’t they hurt?” he wondered. Doug had a strong heel fetish, and even his wife would humor him from time to time by wearing her “slut heels” during sex, but this was different. Part of Bailey’s sex-forward, libertine persona that Doug had started to imprint upon her in his mind.

“Clumsy me.” Doug standing back up, playfully tapping the screwdriver handle against his forehead.

“So the unit will be ready to go once I get this annoying lock figured out. Anyway, here are the keys for it.” Doug reached into his back pocket and pulled out a freshly-minted gold key.

“This won’t take very long. Don’t mind me. Ah...feel free to start bringing your things down and let me know if you need a hand.” Doug turned back to his puzzle in the form a deadbolt install, then flipped his head back over his shoulder and said:

“Welcome home!”

He meant it, but also didn’t mind getting one more glimpse of his sexy new tenant.

 

[kaitlyn_sun]

http://i.imgur.com/CqbXFkl.jpg

“Whoa! I...uh...didn’t hear you coming!”

She laughed out loud at that, covering her mouth. “Oh! I’m sorry!” she said, genuinely not having meant to startle him. He went down to pick up his screwdriver, she bit her lip, looking past him into the room. He was working on it for her even now, cleaning it and adding another lock? She couldn’t believe she had lucked out so much! She looked down at him, and realized he was looking up at her body. She blushed softy. She didn’t really mind, honestly, it was something she was used to. And to be honest, the more time she spent with him the more she realized she really liked his powerful body…

“Clumsy me.” He said as he stood, playing it as though he hadn’t just looked at her. She bit her lip, but decided it was probably best not to pursue it. He was her landlord after all, to say nothing of the fact that he was married.


“Yea…” she said with a coy little grin. “You should probably be more careful.”

There was a moment of silence between them, when all the things you would normally say to someone in this moment went unsaid. Obviously she wouldn’t act on it, but it made her smile when she wondered if he was as aware of the moment passing between them as she was.

“So…” Doug said, breaking the silence, “the unit will be ready to go once I get this annoying lock figured out. Anyway,” He reached into his pocket, and suddenly Bailey’s eyes went wide as he pulled out a gold key, realizing what it was.

“Here are the keys for it.”

She had to hug him, it was too much. She wrapped her arms around his middle and squeezed, feeling how big and solid he was. She finally looked up at him, biting her lip as she took the key. “I promise, I’m not usually this huggy, I’m just having a really good day. Thank you SO much, this is just amazing.” She tucked the key into her purse, still hanging across her body, the strap resting against her chest between her breasts. “Is it okay if I start bringing things downstairs? I don’t want to be in your way?”

“Ah...feel free. This won’t take very long. Don’t mind me, and let me know if you need a hand.”

Oh, she could just kiss him. She bounced on her toes again, and then started up toward the stairs, her skirt flipping a bit as she went.

“Welcome home!”

She made a little happy squealing sound at that, hopping up the stairs, clearly incredibly adept in her heels. She was able to grab her boxes pretty easily… they were pretty big, meant for heavy-duty air conditioners, but there were only six of them, and they were almost entirely clothes. She slowly separated out the clothes for her closet, hanging all sorts of eclectic and vintage pieces, very aware of the fact that Mr Hanson was right there, seeing every piece. It made her feel like she was kind of showing off for him. She was able to get her new dresser downstairs by taking out the drawers and bringing them down separately, and then emptied the rest of her clothing, keeping her jeans and shorts and t-shirts in it, as well as all her various undergarments. She blushed a little bit as she put them away, again, still knowing her landlord was there, but she made a deliberate effort not to make a big deal out of it… Still, she was very careful with each piece, folding them delicately and placing them just so.

With that done, she brought down her other furniture… all the little bits and bobs a dorm room collected; her mini fridge and small microwave, the folding shelves for her class supplies, her personal effects like her laptop and locking chest… and then all that was left was her bed, and the vanity, which was too heavy to carry on her own.

She pushed her fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. She had been hard at work, and taken off her white coat, exposing her naked shoulders, her skin a little bit flushed from effort. She turned to Mr. Hanson. He was still there, even though the lock seemed more or less resolved.

“Could you help me with the last few bits? I’m almost done…” she said, reaching down and unfastening her belt, and slipping off her high heels, leaving her wearing nothing but her tight little yellow sundress. She looked up at him, grinning at how he now towered over her, she playfully bounced on her naked toes. “Unless you want to just carry them all down in one arm like a bear?”

 

[Smarterwhip]

http://i.imgur.com/OTp6dSp.jpg

“I promise, I’m not usually this huggy, I’m just having a really good day. Thank you SO much, this is just amazing.”

Bailey’s words from a minute before replayed in Doug’s mind. He tried to ignore the fact she hugged him for the second time in just a few hours. He just met her for fuck’s sake! But, who was he kidding? He loved feeling Bailey’s big round tits pressed against him and wouldn’t mind feeling them in the flesh...maybe he does still have it?

Doug cartoonishly shook his head quickly from side-to-side, in a half-hearted attempt to clear his mind of the inappropriate thought. Taking a deep breath, he returned to the godforsaken lock as he heard Bailey, humming the latest pop song, her heels tapping up and down the stairs, lugging big cardboard boxes of her belongings into her new apartment.

He occasionally glanced over at her as she hung a variety of dresses, some black, some brightly colored, some shiny and sequined, into the large closet he built into the length of an entire wall.

“Thank Christ I built that thing as big as I did.” Doug thought as he finally got the deadbolt to line up in an acceptable, working manner.

He also thought how much he’d enjoy a personal fashion show where Bailey would model the many dresses in her new closet. If the yellow dress she was wearing today was an indication of her style, he was in for a quite a show, since she clearly knew how to showcase her assets.

Doug then saw what he thought were the jean shorts she wore in the Instagram pic his wife showed him. How he’d love to see Bailey in those cut-offs. Whistling a made-up tune, he pretended to adjust and readjust the lock. Doug kept up the charade when he spotted her sorting through her lingerie. Bailey slowly folded bras, g-strings, boy briefs, and panties in a variety of colors, and placed them in the dresser drawers she had set out on the floor. When full, she stood up and slid the drawers in place.

Was she deliberately putting on a little show for him? Maybe. Likely not. It was arousing all the same, and that full feeling was returning to his crotch.

Bailey made a few more trips up and down the stairs, returning with the usual dorm furniture, be it a mini-fridge, her computer, and a small treasure chest looking piece—though that wasn’t too usual. What did she keep in there?

Doug craned his neck to catch Bailey removing her short, white leather jacket. He liked seeing more of her skin and less clothing. Shoulders now bare, he could really see she was a thin, fit girl who just happened to have giant boobs.

“Could you help me with the last few bits? I’m almost done…”

Doug turned to face Bailey when he heard her voice only to be treated with a mini-strip tease. She unbuckled the wide, shiny black belt and tossed it on top of her dresser before stepping out of her platform pumps, her height instantly dropping a half-foot or more. He really had to look down at her now—and her cleavage—as he was close to a foot taller than her now.

“Unless you want to just carry them all down in one arm like a bear?”

Bailey was rocking a bit on the balls of her feet with a big grin, her tits jiggling ever so slightly as she did. What did she just say? A bear? Despite the virtuous part of his brain telling him otherwise, she was clearly flirting with him now. All Doug could do was return the smile.

“Oh I’m a bear now, am I?” chuckled Doug, trying to be playful in return. “I don’t know about one arm, but sure! What do we have left? I don’t see a bed, so at least that...”

Though he used two arms, it felt more like he was using one arm as Doug manhandled the mattress, box spring, and frame down the narrow steps. The bed seemed easy compared to the vanity. It was an antique with a solid marble top and it was a motherfucker. That’s literally what he called it.

“Motherfucker! Fuck!” he grunted as he carefully stepped down the stairs, insisting that he had it under control despite barefooted Bailey’s pleas to help.

After considerable effort, Doug slowly got the vanity all the way down into the room, placing it exactly where Bailey wanted it.

“I think that counts as my workout today. And I also think I earned myself a cold beer. Phew.” He was hamming it up a bit for Bailey, trying to be cooler than he was to impress this sexy girl twenty-five years his junior.

Doug’s exhaustion managed to slightly distract him from ogling Bailey for at least a few minutes.

“Is that it?”

 

[kaitlyn_sun]

http://i.imgur.com/CqbXFkl.jpg

“Oh I’m a bear now, am I?”

She grinned at his goofy reaction. Oh, she liked him. He was old enough to be.. Well, she wasn’t sure about her DAD, but certainly a sexy uncle. He was goofy like most older guys, but it didn’t seem to bother him. He had a big, powerful, caring energy to him, and she just felt herself eager to please him.

“I don’t know about one arm, but sure! What do we have left? I don’t see a bed, so at least that...”

She nodded, waiting patiently as he moved his tools aside. “Only a few things… and none of it is THAT heavy. The mattress and box spring are just awkward, and I didn’t want to try to move them through your house without a second set of hands. The only heavy part is my vanity….”

She followed him up the stairs, and out the door to his garage. She couldn’t help but watch the way he moved his powerful frame as he stepped outside and started working. He had done so much to help her already today, and she just couldn’t help feeling a swelling of gratitude as he easily got his hands on her mattress and easily hoisted it and moved it downstairs. She tried to help him with the box-spring, but he was so strong and confident with it she would have just gotten in the way. She felt like a puppy excitedly following her new owner through the house… especially when they walked through the front door and to the stairs, because Mrs. Hanson kept turning her head to look at them, and something about the way she looked at them made her feel so very self-conscious.

Finally, it was time to move in her brand-new (to her) vanity, and she was SURE Mr. Hanson would need help with it. Even then, though, he just powered it into his arms and started to haul it. Even though he swore at it, his thick shoulders just rippled inside his shirt and he had it in his arms. At the stairs she felt a rush of panic, and offered over and over to help him, but he seemed not to hear her… and then it was done. It was in her room. He even asked her exactly where to put it.

“I think that counts as my workout today. “

“I know that was so amazing. I feel like all I did today was thank you for how awesome you’re being…” she said as she sat down on the stacked mattress and box spring, not yet assembled into her bed, tugging the hem of her dress down to cover her exposed knees.

“And I also think I earned myself a cold beer. Phew.”

She giggled at him, reaching up and starting to undo her long purple braids, letting her hair tall over her naked shoulders, the waves from her braids making her hair look disheveled and full of volume. “Aw, I wish I could buy you one for all your hard work…” she said, setting her hands on her knees, looking up at him towering over her in her new room. “I’m going to work tonight, maybe if you come by the bar, I can buy you a drink?”

She didn’t mean to sound like she was flirting with him. He was married, and her landlord, and much older than her besides. Still, she knew how it sounded. She just trusted that he was mature and wouldn’t take it inappropriately. He didn’t seem to, just looking around at all the small amount of stuff she had brought into her living space.

“Is that it?”

She looked around, nodding softly. “Yep, that’s it. I still have to set some things up, but I really need to make sure I get to the gym before work tonight, so I think I’m only going to have time to put the bed together.”

She stood up again, her dress swaying as she ran her hands over her middle, getting ready to work and not really meaning to highlight the way the dress clung to her body. “Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime? I feel like I owe you so much…”

She giggled, and moved to hug him again, her hands wrapping around his middle, pressing the side of her cheek into his powerful chest. She didn’t really care anymore that she seemed to be hugging him a lot. He deserved it. She already knew this was just going to be something they did a lot.

-----------------------------------------------

Once she was alone, she got to work fitting the bed frame together, it was a little trickier than she had imagined, but after a few false starts she had it pieced together with the mattress and box spring sitting on top. She opened a box and pulled out some sheets that Harriet had given her; her sheets from her dorm were all for extended singles, and this was a double bed. She’d have to buy some more at some point, but for now the one set would be ok. She tugged them into place, and then threw on her single pillow. Again, she needed to get some money in her pocket and buy some more bedding. She had a LOT more to do, but she was just going to have to wait. She couldn’t skip the gym, and if she wanted to get to work on time she had to go NOW.

She stripped off her dress, leaving her in her matching white bra and panties. She carried them all into the bathroom where she would eventually set up her hamper, but for now she just hung them on the towel rack. She climbed into her new shower, turned it on, and let it run for a moment…. She loved how the shower had these elegant-looking glass doors, and how the very high-pressure shower head came down from it’s mount so she could use it…. However she wanted. For a moment she considered actually playing with it a little, but she knew she was on a timetable. She walked nakedly back into the room and dug out her bathroom kit… she wouldn’t have to carry this stuff back and forth from her dorm room to the bathroom anymore, and the thought made her smile. She hung up her towel and set up all her different shower appliances in the tub… she just needed to clean herself for the gym for now, she had another collection of things in her locker there so that she’d be ready for work.

Once she had scrubbed herself clean she got out and wrapped herself in her fluffy towel, very aware of the fact that she would need a bathmat. She dried her hair, and used a scrunchie to tie it back, and went into her drawer where she found her workout clothes: a sports bra and cotton panties, a pair of active-wear shorts, socks, tennis shoes, and a light hoodie that she wore open. Her work clothes, such as they were: white tank top with the scorpion bar logo, her cutoffs, bra and panties, heels… they all went onto a shoulder bag.

She looked around her room, at how bright and open and welcoming it was, even thought she hadn’t started putting things away yet. She was so happy. She stepped out, locking the door, and then went upstairs. She saw Mr & Mrs Hanson talking, and waved to them. She didn’t want to be any sort of a nuisance, but hoped that they would appreciate her being friendly. “I’m going to work after the gym, so I promise I’ll be quiet when I come home…” she said with a smile. “Thank you guys so much!”

Tugging up her shoulder bag, she stretched a little bit outside, and started running toward the gym.

 

[Smarterwhip]

http://i.imgur.com/OTp6dSp.jpg

"Aw, I wish I could buy you one for all your hard work. I’m going to work tonight, maybe if you come by the bar, I can buy you a drink?”

Doug laughed off the kind, though unexpected gesture. “Awww, you don’t have to do that, Bailey. It’s all good.”

Doug’s blood rate descending back to normal, he saw Bailey seated on her mattress stacked atop the box spring. She had pulled her braids out and Doug noted just how long her hair was. "How often did she have to dye it to keep is so purple? Why was it purple in the first place?"

His deep thoughts left unanswered, Doug began to self-bargain. He figured he hadn’t been to the old Scorpion Bar in years. AND, Bailey recognized he just busted his ass hauling that back-killing vanity down the stairs. She was actually doing right by him by offering a gratis beverage of his choice. Would it be so wrong to stop by for a quick one later? It’s not like she suggested they meet in some seedy motel.

Nodding his head slowly, looking down at Bailey with a confidence that had been building since he met her, Doug retracted his earlier brush-off: “You know what, Bailey? Thank you. That’s actually a great idea. I’ll just check with Sam—uh, that’s my wife, Sam,” he coughed nervously, “Samantha. Anyway. Yeah. I’ll check with her to make sure we don’t have plans, but I could pop by the bar later for that drink.”

Bailey just looked up at him and smiled. Did she think he was some sort of old-timer that never got out of the house? Or was she happy he accepted? Either way, he was going to see her in her bar outfit later. A thought that certainly factored into his changed decision.

Clasping his big paws together, a clap echoing off the bare floors, Doug returned to the move-in at hand.

“Is that it?”

“Yep, that’s it. I still have to set some things up, but I really need to make sure I get to the gym before work tonight, so I think I’m only going to have time to put the bed together.”

Bailey rose from her makeshift bed, the yellow dress practically painted onto her hourglass form. Doug tried not to notice her delicate hands smoothing the wrinkled fabric over her thin waist. She was clearly fit and worked hard at it Doug figured. But was she trying to get him hard again with this latest little show-off? Before he could clear the temptation from his head, Bailey continued:

“Is there anything I can do for you in the meantime? I feel like I owe you so much…”

Doug’s mind was practically blown with her follow-up, and raced with an unspoken reply, “Wait, what? You have GOT to be fucking kidding me. Oh there is PLENTY you could do do for me in the meantime, young woman...”

His actual response was remarkably different.

“You owe me nothing. Truly. We’re just happy—Sam and I—that we got this room rented. And to such a nice tenant.”

Did he just call her nice? Where did that come from? Doug knew he had better get the hell out of the room with Bailey, his lust roaring back to center stage. But, before he could, Bailey let out a cute giggle and hugged him. Again!

This time, he reciprocated the gesture, her small body swallowed up in his strong arms, he leaned forward a bit to level their height difference. Even so, she was perched up as high as she could manage on her tip-toes, her smooth runner’s calves tightening, allowing their hips to almost touch. He patted the small of her back lightly, causing her full breasts to press against him more than before.

There was a lightness to her body that he was coming to enjoy.

‘“Now, now, Bailey…” Doug gently patted her back and broke their embrace, holding his hands on her bare shoulders.

“So I’ll see you later tonight, hmmmm?” Doug stepped back, made some dumbass sort of loose, two-finger army salute (best reserved for male company) and retreated back upstairs.

-----------------------------------------------


http://i.imgur.com/MA3i2KX.jpg


Doug was greeted by Samantha in the kitchen. Freed of her office attire and heels, she was preparing dinner in a faded pair of Levi’s cinched tight by one of Doug’s leather belts and a snug, vintage Stone Roses t-shirt.

“How’s my ol’ Griz?” smiling at him warmly, Sam saw he was beat and perspiring. “Shit, Doug, she put you to work!” She opened the fridge and cracked open a Miller Lite for him. He wasn’t much of a “fancy beer” sort.

“Thanks, babe.” Doug grabbed the cold bottle of beer and clinked Sam’s glass of wine she was nursing from earlier.

“So, is our purple-haired princess, uh, I mean, tenant moved in?” she asked, her elbows perched on the marble kitchen island, leaning forward.

If Doug hadn’t be so sexually aroused from meeting the new co-ed in his life, he never would have noticed how sexual his wife looked just now, bent over a benign kitchen island, back arched and ass perched high in the air.

“Fuck...FUCK! I haven’t had sex around every corner this much since I was…” Doug’s trivial thoughts interrupted by Sam:

She snapped her fingers, looking up at him. “Over here Dougie! Hey. It was a simple question."

Doug blinked, took a gulp of the shitty beer and replied. “Oh. She’s moved in. But that fucking vanity she bought—at Goodwill she told me—may as well have been a wet bag of cement.”

“Poor baby…” Sam sarcastically cooed, then impersonated a schoolmarm: “Such language, Mr. Hanson. You’d better clean that potty mouth up with children in the house.” She winked at him, finished her wine, and poured herself a fresh glass.

“Sheesh, Sam. She’s in college. I’m sure she’s heard ‘colorful’ language before.”

Sam let it drop and turned to a chicken on the counter. “Roast chicken, okay? I know it’s my turn tonight.”

“Sure. Say, ah, what are you doing later?”

Sam turned and looked at him, and squinted. “Ummm...what am I doing? What I’m usually doing on a weeknight, dear husband. Hmmmm...I’ll be here. In this house. Hopefully with a mild, but manageable, buzz. Either reading, falling asleep on the couch, or heaven forbid, having sex with you.” She knew he was out of sorts and couldn’t resist piling on. It was her style.

“Why? Wanna fuck?” Sam half-teasing Doug, she lunged forward and breathed the words into his right ear, grabbing his cock and balls package in the process.

Doug nearly spit out his beer in shock. Surprised, his mind raced. “What has gotten into everyone today? First Bailey and all her touchy-feely shit and now Sam just grabbed my Johnson out of nowhere. And for fuck's sake! My wife of 15 years can clearly feel that I’m a little on edge down there.”

Sam noticed alright. She stepped back, released her grip and placed a hand over her open mouth, eyes wide and brows raised. “Mr. Hanson! My word!”

Doug’s face was burning red. He had nothing to say, swallowed his mouthful of beer, and quickly slugged another.

“Well, well, well, big boy. Maybe I’ll see YOU later.” Sam was smiling. The sort of “cat-ate-the-bird” smile.

The awkward, flirtatious moment between the two was interrupted by Bailey skipping up the steps. She stopped in the kitchen doorway, dressed in her workout outfit of tight short-shorts, and sports bra visible through a hoodie.

“I’m going to work after the gym, so I promise I’ll be quiet when I come home. Thank you guys so much!”

Sam just stared at her, envious of how in shape Bailey was—and she was, toned mid-riff exposed below her sports bra—and that she had the energy to work out BEFORE a night shift at some dive bar.

“Have a great night, Bailey. We’ll see you a bit later!” Doug waved as Bailey headed out the door.

He tried not to stare too long at Bailey, her legs now on full display as they weren’t before in the dress. The short-shorts were exactly that: short. Though Bailey wasn’t tall sans heels, her legs were long, slender and lithe; her height comprised of legs more than torso. Years of working out and running kept them firm and Bailey's workout regimen was her obligation to the genes she was blessed with, granting her willowy thighs, curvaceous calves and thin ankles.

“Imagine that ass sitting on top of those legs…her tight pussy...” Doug wondered and suddenly realized Bailey’s big tits had blinded him to the rest of her modelesque body. His mouth may have slipped open, until his wife woke him up.

Sam turned to Doug, her face gripped with incredulity. “We’ll see you a bit later? Ummmm...where are we going, the fucking gym?”

“Oh, Bailey, uh, Bailey...she suggested we stop by the Scorpion later for a drink!” Doug omitted the fact that it was really Bailey offering to buy HIM a drink.

Sam laughed out loud. She had a beautiful, bold, but feminine laugh. “Oh Doug! What am I going to do with you?” Wagging her perfectly-manicured finger at him, she returned to her glass of wine and dinner preparations.

-----------------------------------------------

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” Doug asked with half-sincerity, standing in the wide archway of the living room, Sam’s pretty face illuminated by the television.

She looked up from her iPad. “Douglas…” this is how Samantha addressed him when her patience had run out. “It’s almost 10. I have to be in the office by eight. I’m seriously okay with you going—I mean, it’s a little...whatever. But, if you really want to go, go. Just don’t get a dewey (DUI).”

Doug felt guilty though he had no need to be. Yet. He shrugged, feeling he had a free pass, but she was right. It was a bit “whatever” and random, but also not so crazy. At least he didn’t fib about dashing out to meet a buddy for a drink, right?

“Okay. I’ll text when I’m headed back.”

“Please do. Don’t be too late, okay?” Sam tucked back into the big sofa under a furry blanket and resumed reading whatever gripped her interest online.

It was unseasonably cool for early September. Doug threw on a down vest over his flannel shirt, stepped outside and then into his new garage. He opted for his vintage, army green 1980 G-Class Mercedes. It was the sort of SUV that inspired the rest before they invaded the ‘burbs and became cool.

He turned the key and the old engine hummed to life. Tenleytown wasn’t all that far from Adams-Morgan where the Scorpion Bar was located. “I still can’t believe that shithole is still open…” Doug thought as he crossed over Connecticut Avenue and towards Adams-Morgan.

Doug knew parking would be challenging deep into the city, to say the least, so he broke off before 18th Street in search of a free spot. Much like the luck he had experienced most of the day, it wasn’t long before a generous, open space showed itself on a side street. He reversed the green beast with ease, and set the parking brake. Doug hopped out of his truck, took a deep breath, and trekked the block or so to the Scorpion Bar.

A bald, pudgy bouncer stood watch outside the front entrance. He was about to card Doug before looking up and motioning him in: “It’s cool, bro. Have fun.”

The Scorpion Bar hadn’t changed much since the 90s. It was somewhat remodeled, but still dark with a crimson glow courteous of red light bulbs instead of white ones. The smoking ban the District passed a little more than a decade ago made the place a bit more hospitable. Yet, the music was loud, the drinks cheap, and the crowd young.

It wasn’t all that busy for a Thursday night. Though not the oldest guy there, Doug was well above the mean age at 44. He scanned the bar a few times for Bailey—was she even still working? He found an open stool at the bar and ordered a scotch on the rocks. Best to just sip something strong versus guzzling a bunch of shitty beer. Sam was right as usual: don’t get a dewey.

Doug settled in and smiled when he heard an old Depeche Mode song crackling to life. He turned around to see if the jukebox was still in operation. Instead, he spotted Bailey.

"Could his day get any more ridiculous?" No wonder he didn’t find the reason or time to log into pornhub this day.

Bailey’s long purple hair was tied up in a high ponytail, her thin neck exposed. He’d seen that ripped t-shirt/tank top before—he guessed that passed for a uniform—and it stopped short of her cut-off jean shorts. Her waist was so thin and kept that way intentionally. Her legs looked even longer in the glossy black, mary jane high heels she was wearing, the thin strap over the top of her foot unnecessary but girlish in a very sexy way. The small silver buckle glinted in the red light.

Doug must have been staring for too long to cause Bailey’s ears to burn, for she turned towards the bar, spotted Doug, and waved in an excited, exaggerated way. She trotted over to him in her platform heels, her chest barely contained in the white top.

He did all he could to maintain his composure and his eyesight level. “Just look at her eyes…”

 

[kaitlyn_sun]

http://i.imgur.com/CqbXFkl.jpg

Bailey had long ago started her workout by running to the gym. It was actually a further run now, and a little bit more uphill, but that was exactly what she wanted. She guessed this was about a mile and a half - not quite enough to be a workout in and of itself, but definitely a good enough warm-up to get right into her routine. Bailey wasn’t naturally fit; she had been very skinny growing up, and with the exception of her breasts which had kind of come out of nowhere when she was thirteen she had only really started developing at the tail-end of high school. She had compensated by being very active; she had started running track when she was a freshman and made it a habit to try to get a full marathon in every week, either on the streets on the treadmill. It was Thursday and she had already done twenty-three miles.

With her chest, though, she would never be a really great runner. Instead, she had focused on trying to combat her natural skinniness. She had gotten into circuit training, and tried to to spend as much time as she could working on all of her various glute muscles. She’d never have a ‘fat’ ass, but she could work as hard as she could to have a nice one. Meanwhile, she made a different route through the circuit on different days to try to keep her body toned; today was shoulder day. She went to her locker first, dropping off her bag of work clothes and finding a pair of fingerless weightlifting gloves… a lot of the work she was going to do today was actually using free weights. She couldn’t lift much (a lot of what she did was actually with an empty bar), but just making sure she gave some attention to all the individual muscles in her shoulders and upper back would keep her from losing the shape she worked so hard to maintain.

Of course, the gym was packed as usual. The people she got along the best with were actually the bulky gym-rat guys… the ones that used this gym happened to be gay, and they were just so incredibly sweet and full of great advice. She liked the girls that came here and was Facebook friends with most of them, but they really just came here to spend an hour on a treadmill to keep their weight down. She just didn’t spend much time with them because she was trying so hard to GAIN weight. Then, of course, there were the frat guys that came here to try to pick up girls. ‘Fuckboys’, Meg called them. She had dated two different frat guys her freshman year before she wised up about it. You can only be served a house cocktail called ‘the roofie’ so many times before you start to catch on to someone’s priorities.

She actually hadn’t had much dating success at all since she came to college. She had DATES, obviously, but it was just so exhausting watching them try to figure out what the secret code was to get her naked. They couldn’t just TALK to her. She would love to have a nice dinner with a guy and just talk about Game of Thrones. She had briefly considered the possibility of dating women last year, but it just didn’t feel real enough. No, she’d just have to plug away and hopefully someday she’d swipe right on someone that actually turned out to be a genuinely nice person.

She finished her circuit, including several deliberate glute exercises, and ended her routine by getting onto the treadmill, saying hi to the girls around her as she cranked up the incline, put in her earbuds, and pounded out a quick three miles. She actually wasn’t the biggest fan of listening to music while exercising; she liked to listen to her own body… but she had found that the girls tended to be a little competitive and anything faster than an eight minute mile seemed to get them a little frustrated. Instead she just finished, put her hands over her head as she walked through her cool-down, wiped off the machine, and returned to the locker room.

She kept a pretty sizeable bathroom kit in the locker room. She stripped off her workout clothes and threw them onto the bench, grabbed her towel and a small bag, and went to take her shower. Once she had scrubbed herself clean using an exfoliating coconut bodywash she carefully shaved herself with moisturizing gel, keeping herself as smooth as she could. She rubbed herself down completely with a citrus moisturizing cream and then a shea butter body lotion. She washed her face separately with a facial cleanser and then a microbead scrub, and carefully washed her hair with a natural cucumber oil shampoo and then got out, toweling in a color-protection conditioner. She had all these different bottles and cremes and lotions in her home kit as well, but it just made sense to keep it all here as well since she tended to head to work from here. She returned to her locker, taking out her work clothes, putting her workout clothes and her towel in her shoulder bag to take home to wash…

She grinned at that as she pulled on her underwear, feeling the soft feeling of satin on her smooth skin. Home. She was already thinking of her new room as home. As she pulled on her bra and hooked it behind her she couldn’t help but think about the Hansons… Mr. Hanson especially. She felt like she SHOULD be thinking of him like a father-figure, but she just didn’t. She couldn’t quite tell what he felt like; she just felt such a swelling of devotion to him for everything he was doing for her. As she pulled on her shorts, fastening them and tightening her belt, she hoped that he would come to the bar tonight.

She pulled on her tank top, carefully aligning it, since it seemed to be the main factor in what kind of tips she would get. She would never have thought she’d work in a place like this, flirting with people and flashing cleavage for tips, but the truth was she found it empowering. Guys stared at her no matter what she did, she might as well profit from it. In practice, it actually felt like she was turning it around on them… making HER the powerful one. They might think she was lowering herself, but she had never felt more in control. She made a single braid in the front of her hair, tying it at the base, and the pulled all her long hair back into a ponytail, making sure the braid was evident in the way it sat on her head, and then pulled on her heels, fastening the little buckles over her ankle, and the bridge of her foot. She closed her locker, pulled her bag over her shoulder, and then left the locker room, heading up to the bus stop behind the athletics center to ride to work.

----------------------------------------------

The Scorpion Bar had been a biker bar once upon a time, or so the story went. It had been opened by a biker club called the Scorpions, and it’s dark raw-wood floors and booths had definitely seen some shit. The ceilings in the entranceway were low, making it all feel like a pit, but as the bar wound around the far wall it became evident that a series of stairs dropped down away, revealing lower and lower sitting areas, pool tables, dart boards, a dance floor and a small stage usually dominated by a dj booth. There were private party rooms, curtained booths… all designed to play up the place’s history as a den of iniquity. The lighting was all a low red, and the drinks were strong… And it still catered to an unsavory sort that still parked their bikes in rows in the back of the building.

Of course… this was a college neighborhood, now. The majority of folks that came in here were kids recently of drinking age; frat guys looking to ogle the waitresses, or college girls wanting to look badass. For the most part it was people pretending to be tough. It made it easy to play to them. They wanted to ACT like they were hardcore, and if she just fed into that, she tended to do okay. The actual bikers were older guys, and they were absolute sweethearts. And of course, the other waitresses were almost all just amazing women. There were a few other college-aged girls like herself, all of whom busted their ass and would take a bullet for each other, but there were also several women in their later twenties or even thirties. Some of them had kids, several of them were in a roller derby league together… some of them had websites they ran where they sold lingerie pictures of themselves, or shipped boxes of used underwear to horny perverts with disposable income. They were tough, independent, brilliant women and she loved the idea that they considered her one of them.

She was chatting with Katrina as she started setting up for her shift, setting her bag in her locker. Katrina was 28, a single mom and a graduate student in business management, and she was one of Bailey’s personal heroes.

“...So we unloaded everything, and I just barely had time to get my bed together before I had to take off for the gym.” She finished.

“Wow, you really lucked out.” Katrina replied, applying eyeliner in the big mirror in the back room as Bailey joined her, starting to apply a bit of foundation. “And you’re sure he’s not some kind of pervert?”

Bailey giggled at that. “Definitely not a PERVERT. He’s sweet. And… you know… he’s…” she faltered a bit, occupying herself with choosing a sponge.

Katrina rolled her eyes. “OOOOh boy. Well…” she said shaking her head. “you just make sure you don’t do anything you don’t want to, okay sweety?”

Bailey nodded, blushing.

“All that aside, looks like you got yourself in a good position. And not too soon, did you? Your classes start… when?”

“Tomorrow” Bailey answered, continuing with her make-up.

“Wow. Just under the buzzer. And you’re all ready for classes?”

Bailey smiled at her. “Yep!”

“Got your books and everything?”

“...”

----------------------------------------------

Bailey was good at her job. She took care of her customers, laughed at their jokes, took their fumbling attempts at flirting and playing into them… sometimes there was even a guy or two that actually had enough game to make her consider it even though the other waitresses insisted that you should NEVER do that. This evening was pretty slow, but even still she had a pretty good night. She stood out enough that people remembered her, and she had a good number of repeat customers… She’d make a decent amount tonight.

Not that it mattered. Everything she made here was already spoken for: She made it a point to pay off her loan for the semester before the semester was over. She had to pay several thousand dollars within the three and a half months of the semester, and that ate up almost all of her funds. She had some left over for living expenses, but they had to get paid. The fact that she had a few extra hundred dollars to buy furniture was a miracle only made possible by Mr Hanson’s amazing generosity…

But she had COMPLETELY forgotten about her books.

She didn’t have an excuse. The question of having a place to live had just been so overwhelming that the idea of having her books was just a non-issue. She considered finding someone to torrent them online but someone had just been kicked off campus for doing that, and she couldn’t risk it. She was so behind that she hadn’t even LOOKED at what her books would cost, but it couldn’t possibly be less than three hundred dollars. If She was LUCKY.

She stewed quietly, even though she grinned broadly and flaunted herself to a table full of frat guys. One of them looked like he was a little out of his element and was getting ready to try to grope her to prove how not-gay he was to his frat buddies, but thankfully nothing happened, and she didn’t have to get the bouncer to eject them. They just said some borderline lewd things to her, she giggled and responded accordingly, and left her with what they probably thought was a generous tip. She loaded up a tray with their empty glasses and the baskets of cheap appetizers… she used a towel to wipe it down, and threw that on as well, hoisting the whole thing up onto her shoulder and turned to head to the dishwashing station in the kitchen…

When she realized just who was sitting at the bar and looking at her.

She felt herself light up. She had been working so hard to put on a smile, it felt so good when her own genuine smile washed over her. With all the noise and unsatisfying college guys she had been dealing with, to see him sitting there gave her this profound sense that everything was ok.

She waved to him with her free hand, smiling, before using it to steady her tray as she carried it back to the kitchen. Katrina was there, picking up an order of nachos.

“He’s here.” Bailey said, washing her hands and drying them with a paper towel.
l
“He who?”

“Mr. Hanson?”

Katrina looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “He came to visit you at work? The DAY you moved in?”

She nodded, blushing a little bit.

“Ooooh, sweety.” Katrina said with a smile, shaking her head.

Still blushing, she ran a hand up to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, quickly glancing at the mirror by the door to make sure she looked ok, and then went back out to the floor. She walked over to the bar, biting her lip, feeling herself bounce on her toes a little bit as she came to stand next to his stool. “You came…” she observed, unable to hide her delight.

She realized her reaction to him was probably a little over the top. They had met TODAY. There was just something about him that made her feel…. She wasn’t sure what, but she liked it. He was clearly someone special, and she felt for a moment like everything was going to be okay.

She waved to the bartender, indicating that his drink was on her, and then looked back at him. “Is Mrs Hanson here?” she asked, not sure exactly what they should say to each other. She exhaled at his answer, and bit her lip, realizing she was glad that she wasn’t.

“So do you go out on your own a lot? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before…”

I think I would have noticed, she thought silently to herself.

 

[Smarterwhip]

http://i.imgur.com/OTp6dSp.jpg

Doug took a sip of icy scotch as Bailey made her way to the bar.

Why did he feel a certain giddiness when he saw her? Granted, she was a very attractive girl with an amazing body and a fashion sense tailored to accentuate both, but he was quickly developing a fondness for her. For lack of a better word, Doug thought, it felt like a “crush” of a sort. That was it, he had a crush on Bailey. And since he found such infatuations silly, he was able to brush it off as a fleeting moment of an aging man, trying to reach back to the spontaneity of his youth. Doug was more self-aware than most.

None of his steely logic changed the fact that Bailey seemed just as happy to see him. The feeling was mutual.

“You came…”

“I sure did...” Doug responded with a smile, placing his hand on his knee. “I guess the promise of a free drink was a deal too good to pass up!” He joked, trying to deflate the tension. Seemingly on cue, Bailey gestured to the bartender who nodded back. The scotch became Bailey’s treat.

Doug noticed the exchange. “Oh, uh, you really didn’t have to do that, Bailey. I mean, it’s no big deal.”

Bailey would have none of it, apparently, when she ignored him and asked: “Is Mrs Hanson here?”

Doug nervously shook the ice in his drink, the clinking of the cubes filling the awkward silence. He noticed other men at the bar—some his age, some younger—turning to get a healthy glimpse of Bailey’s stunning form on full display. She seemed immune to the attention.

“No. She took a pass. She normally would have, but she’s got an early morning tomorrow.”

At least his response was half-true. Doug took another sip, his barstool turned towards Bailey, who was at his level thanks to his seated position and her high heels. Despite wanting to check out her statuesque legs again, he managed to keep his eyes focused on her, but when she bit her lip—a habit of hers he was beginning to appreciate—his arousal for her began to swell again. She really had beautiful lips and loved the dark lipstick she seemed to favor.

Doug was a little surprised by how he was struggling with something to say. Shooting the shit was one of his specialties, and it was certainly easy enough to chat with Bailey earlier in the day. Was he nervous? Did venturing out per her invitation indicate his interest? Was she onto him or, even worse, was it inappropriate? Anyone in the bar who cared to observe the two of them would realize he was much older than her. As in TWENTY-FIVE years older than her.

“Fuck...I am nervous! Get it together!” Doug scolded himself. All he wanted to do is reach out and feel her again. He wanted to place his hands on her waspish waist and then slide them slowly down the hard line of her hips to what he imagined was a very firm ass, just barely covered by her cut-off jean shorts. He wanted more. Her toned legs. Her generous, round tits. Her slender neck. Her long, amethyst-colored hair. Her soft, clear face. Those three hugs sparked an addiction and Doug craved more.

“So do you go out on your own a lot? I don’t think I’ve seen you here before…”

Bailey’s question snapped Doug to attention. It was if she sensed she needed to put him at ease by getting him to talk a little about himself. It worked and he began to calm down.

“No, I’m not much a solo artist,” he chuckled. “And as for seeing me here, well, you’d need a time machine for that. I haven’t been to this bar since the 90s—probably before you were born!”

It wasn’t exactly his best response and he immediately regretted pointing out their obvious age difference. But, maybe he subconsciously did it to keep his lust in check. There was no way he could bang his brand-new tenant who shared a house with his wife!

“I won’t lie though, Bailey. Being back here at the Scorp’ is triggering some old memories. Good memories. Funny, since no one would accuse me of being nostalgic.”

Doug thought back to the time an ex-girlfriend gave him head in the women's bathroom here at the Scorpion Bar way back when. He nodded at Bailey's reply, trying earnestly to corral his lust, but he began to slip. The red light of the Scorpion Bar matched his emotions.

“Nice to see the uniform hasn’t really changed much…” Doug’s casual observation allowed him to scan Bailey up and down, her prominent cleavage front-and-center in the snug tank top, leather belt low on her thin hips, purple ponytail hitting the middle of her back. He noticed how her high heels really kept her already muscular legs in a constant state of contraction, showing off what perfect legs she had. His once-over had the feel of a drill sergeant conducting a uniform inspection.

“You wear it well, Bailey.” Doug grinned, his flirting obvious when Bailey blushed.

He took a bigger swallow and finished his drink, shook his head a bit as he often did to clear his thoughts—in this case, filthy thoughts—and changed the subject.

“Anyway. Good night for tips?” Doug asked, setting his empty glass on the weathered bar.

 

[kaitlyn_sun]

http://i.imgur.com/CqbXFkl.jpg

“No, I’m not much a solo artist,”

Bailey lifted a single eyebrow at that. It felt incongruous. When she was at work, she was inundated with guys posturing to impress, trying to talk themselves up. Most of the time it was little harmless boasts about whatever that guy happened to be good at, classes or guitar of flag football or whatever… sometimes with enough charm or awkwardness that it actually made her think it was sincere. Occasionally they were so out of left field that it was all she could do not to burst out laughing at them. Once she got invited out on a 19-year-old kid’s yacht, and had to take him up on it just for the chance to watch him furiously backpedal. She didn’t MIND it, honestly, it was part of the whole mentality of pretending to be sexy for tips.

But what guys never, ever, EVER seemed to do was talk themselves down. She just never heard it. ‘I’m not much of a…’ anything was simply never said. Even more specifically, he was basically saying he didn’t do things on his own. It just felt so out of place.

But it certainly seemed to do the job, she realized, because she immediately wanted to question it, to know more. What DOES he do? How does a person get to be the one he spends time with? She realized she was touching the stray strand of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail, and quickly tucked it behind her ear again, not wanting to think about what sort of non-verbal signals she was sending to her new landlord.

“And as for seeing me here, well, you’d need a time machine for that.”

She giggled at that, shaking her head. “Oh, come on… you’re not that old.”

“I haven’t been to this bar since the 90s—probably before you were born!”

She was born in the summer of ‘98, and that freaked out people that weren’t even ten years older than her, for some reason. People put a lot of emotional weight in the turn of the century, she supposed, and were weirded out that she was born so close to it. Probably best not to mention it, she reasoned, so instead she just rolled her eyes playfully, shaking her head.

“I won’t lie though, Bailey. Being back here at the Scorp’ is triggering some old memories.”

“Good memories?” She asked, smiling up at him.

“Good memories.” he replied, making her bounce happily on her toes. “Funny, since no one would accuse me of being nostalgic.”

She didn’t deliberately make the choice to hold her hands down at her sides, swaying happily at her waist as they spoke, but she realized that she was doing it, and that it had made him glance down at her body. She KNEW she was dressed in a pretty scandalously revealing outfit. Most of the time it didn’t bother her at all; She worked incredibly hard to maintain her body. She had longed to be more than just a stringbean with disproportionate tits when she was younger, and now that she had built up her body so that she felt confident and beautiful, every time she caught someone’s eye it felt like a small victory.

But this was different, having Mr Hanson looking at her. She felt herself flush. He must know that she saw him as special, that she felt like she was beholden to him, like he was someone she trusted and wanted to do right for. To have him look down at her wasn’t just a quiet little compliment, it was more like… she didn’t quite know.

“Nice to see the uniform hasn’t really changed much…”

She blushed hotly, all over. People commented her body over and over, all night. It was what she was here for, really. But this was so different. It felt like… what he said mattered. She was touching her hair again, careful not to cover any part of herself from his view. “I know… it’s… it’s kind of silly…” she said, trying to find some way to make this feel normal and not like…. Whatever it really was…

“You wear it well, Bailey.”

He turned and finished his drink, and she realized she had been holding her breath. She looked around as his attention was away from her for a split second. There was a new group coming in, and she knew they were likely to go to her section… She glanced over at her one remaining table, and realized that Katrina was there with a pitcher, making sure they were ok… before glancing back giving Bailey a wink, silently assuring her that she was covered for the moment. Bailey mouthed her a silent ‘thank you’ before she looked back at Mr. Hanson, who was turning to look at her again, making her insides do a strange little dance.

“Anyway. Good night for tips?”

She exhaled. Oh boy. That was a question. She didn’t want to talk his ear off about her trouble, but…

“I mean, it’s okay. Classes start tomorrow, so, probably not as busy as it’d be otherwise… but…”

She REALLY shouldn’t tell him about this.

“I mean, it’s not going to make a huge difference. All my money goes to living expenses, and I went and… I bought that vanity like an idiot and I forgot about my books for classes…” she rolled her eyes. God, she was embarrassed, but once she started talking… “I mean, you basically HANDED me the solution, and I went and messed it up…”

Shut up, shut up, shut UP, Bailey! She glanced over at the door, and the new party was being seated… a group of slightly older guys, maybe in their mid to late twenties. She looked at him, biting her lip, her eyes wide with apology.

“Oh, my god, I need to get over there... “ she said, beckoning for the bartender. “Hey, get him whatever he wants, ok? My treat?”

Bailey awkwardly smiled at Doug, hoping her offering would cover up for coming across like a complete screw-up a moment ago. “I’ll try to come talk again, okay?” she offered, leaning forward and giving him a quick make-up preserving kiss on the cheek, leaving just a tiny little lipstick print as she turned and hurried over to her new table, more than a little self conscious about the way her butt wiggled behind her, and privately wondering if he was watching…

 

[Smarterwhip]

http://i.imgur.com/OTp6dSp.jpg

“I mean, you basically HANDED me the solution, and I went and messed it up…”

“Whoa, whoa. It’s okay, Bailey. No one messed anything up. YOU didn’t mess anything up, got it?” Doug tried to reassure a clearly distraught Bailey, her full lips curled to a small pout, mascara-heavy eyes downcast. He was about to reach out and place his hand on her bare shoulder—the instinct involuntary but also fueled by his desire to touch her again—but before he could, Bailey turned to see she had a new table in her section.

“Oh, my god, I need to get over there…”

She was biting her lip again and Doug noticed how Bailey was even more attractive having suddenly revealed a vulnerable side to him. Sure, his wanton feelings remained very sexual. How could they not be when this flirtatious, barely-dressed 19 year-old co-ed was right in front of him. But now Doug wanted to take care of Bailey in a way he couldn’t quite figure out.

It was a new sort of yearning. Sam never needed Doug to be strong in an overly-protective manner, at least not beyond a few true moments of crisis in the twenty years they knew each other. And he didn’t feel less of Bailey for needing his help. In that moment, Doug wanted to help, and wished Bailey didn’t have to tart herself up—though he was careful not to complain too loudly given the result—at the Scorpion Bar, a job a few steps removed from stripping. He easily could provide for Bailey such that she could quit on-the-spot tonight. Doug daydreamed that she could dress like this for him privately, serving him drinks in her high heels upstairs when Sam wasn’t home. Or he could visit her downstairs for the same. Maybe he could even buy her a new uniform...

“Hey, get him whatever he wants, ok? My treat?”

Doug quickly snapped out of his perverse, alternative reality. “Jesus Christ. This poor girl is fretting about a few hundred bucks for books and all I can think about is fucking her!” He tried to mask his dirty thoughts with a smile.

“I understand. You are working after all. And, uh, thanks. But you don’t need to treat me to another one.”

Bailey returned his smile, though she still appeared a bit frazzled. Doug wanted to cheer her up and if she asked for the money, he would happily agree.

“I’ll try to come talk again, okay?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be here, it’s not even—” Before Doug could check the time on his watch, Bailey leaned in and kissed his cheek just above his beard. He was caught totally off-guard, the light peck sending a shock through his 220 pound body and straight to his groin. He knew it was a sweet gesture, but he could not help sexualizing it. He was only half-ashamed.

“Oh..ah. Wow. Okay!” Doug placed his big hand on Bailey’s thin hip briefly before she turned and trotted off to her new table, shiny black heels clicking on the bare floors. Looking squarely at her ass, Doug figured his hand could pretty much cover both of her firm cheeks. He also noticed Bailey possessed a gait where her little backside would sway ever so slightly. Maybe it was caused by the five inch heels? Maybe not. It wasn’t the dramatic back-and-forth swing of a runway model. No, this was more subtle. Bailey was one of those fit girls who had superior body control, thanks to her strong legs and core—like a ballerina. Her hard, round ass wiggled more like a pendulum. A controlled, steady motion.

Doug wanted to feel that on his lap.

“Do you wanna another one buddy?” The grizzled, older bartender asked. He looked like he’d been here since the 90s. Though he’d seen most of the interaction between Doug and Bailey, he knew better than to pay attention to it, having seen older men with younger women at the Scorpion more than a few times. And vice versa.

“How about half of that scotch again but with some soda.” Doug turned back to the bar and replied, motioning that he was driving by turning an imaginary steering wheel. The bartender nodded.

Doug consciously made a point to watch whatever random sporting event was on the TV above the bar. Of course, he WANTED to turn back around and stare at Bailey, big tits bouncing as she served trays of beer and chicken wings to leering men. He’d be no better than them if he did the same.

“Here you go,” the bartender returned. “I’ll get this one. That poor girl...ah, hey, you got a little bit of…” he pointed to Doug’s cheek where Bailey had left a dark red lipstick stain.

Doug blushed a bit and wiped it off with a paper cocktail napkin. “What if Sam had spotted that instead of this old buzzard?”

“Thanks.”

“I’d normally tell you to be careful, but Bailey is a good girl,” the bartender said, drying off pint glasses and setting them on the bar.

“Oh, it’s not like that. I mean, I’m married.” Doug gestured down to his wedding band.

The bartender stopped and looked up. “Then what the hell are you doing here?” The question so direct and to the point of the matter. “Maybe I should tell you to be careful after all…” he winked and turned to some new customers. It was both a knowing and creepy wink.

“What the fuck am I doing here…” Doug whispered, soothing his anxiety with a sip of his new drink. The question itself a reality check as to what he was feeling and what he would actually be willing to do if he could. Would he actually have sex with Bailey if the opportunity arose? What if she asked him?

Doug's immediate, visceral response would be of course he would. When would he ever cross paths with a girl as hot and sweet as Bailey in the future, short of paying a high-end prostitute? But, Doug also had a good thing going with Sam. Sure, they both tiptoed close to the line of infidelity a handful of times, but nothing even close to a serious affair threatened their marriage. And Doug knew that if he actually fucked Bailey, he would be mightily challenged to have it remain an isolated event, a one-off.

Doug swirled the ice in his drink, took a swallow, then set it back down.

“I should leave right now. I stopped by, said hello, had the drink she offered, and now it’s time to head home. She’s busy anyway by the looks of it.” That was the angel’s wise counsel echoing inside of Doug’s guilty conscience. Nodding, Doug resolved to finish his drink and quietly slip out of the bar, unnoticed.

Then the devil took his turn. “She KISSED you! And can’t keep her hands off of you and you fucking know it. Look at that body—she’s a sextoy cut from marble and loves showing it off to all of these horny bastards. She could pick anyone of these douchebags to take home but you’re the one she wants. Why else would she have you stop by this dive? Make the move and she’s yours…”

As is often the case between the struggle of right and wrong, the correct answer lay somewhere in between the two. He figured it would be rude to just up and leave without saying good-bye, but he also knew he wanted to stay. To chat with her again. To see her in that slutty uniform and tall heels for a few more minutes.

Doug never had to make the decision. He turned and gave the bar a quick glance, trying to spot Bailey. If he saw her, he’d politely wave and head home. If not, he’d stay another five minutes until he could at least acknowledge her before he left.

Instead, he saw Bailey leaning WAY over a table, clearing some empty glasses. As she reached forward, she was almost standing out of her glossy heels, leg muscles stretched and taut. Bending at her waist, back arched, her jean shorts crawled up her tight ass, the bottoms of her cheeks exposed for a second. Bailey had an amazing ass and clearly knew it, not shy to be on full display for anyone at the Scorpion Bar to see. To add to the visual tease, her heavy boobs were nearly brushing against the top of the beer-stained wood table, purple ponytail dangling over her shoulder.

Doug inhaled and fantasized how he would love to spank Bailey in this position. A firm, corrective spanking for spending her money on an antique vanity instead of textbooks. He imagined Bailey nodding as she counted the spankings, hearing her confess, “Yes, Daddy. I understand.”

Caught in his lewd fantasy, Doug’s eyes were transfixed on Bailey. He didn’t even break his stare when she returned to a standing position, tray full of empty glasses. She swiveled on her heels to meet his gaze.

This time he was undeniably busted for a full-on, gaping mouth ogling.

 

[kaitlyn_sun]

http://i.imgur.com/CqbXFkl.jpg

It really wasn’t very busy tonight.

Bailey had started working here a few months into her freshman year, so she hadn’t been here for the start of the semester before. All the other waitresses had told her that the first WEEKEND of school was insanely busy. Tomorrow was first day of classes but it was also Friday (she never understood why they did that), so it would be a madhouse in here, she had just assumed tonight would be busy too…

But as she laughed at the maybe-a-little-bit funny joke that had the guys around her latest table roaring, she realized that it was already thinning. There hadn’t been a table seated in almost ten minutes, and that never bode well at this time of night. It was almost 11; the late night crowd was mostly regulars but it wouldn’t sustain a full shift.

She asked the guys if they wanted anything else, and when they all made the obvious double entendres she rolled her eyes playfully, responding with one of her own that had them all ‘ooooooh’ing.’ She gave them her well-rehearsed, convincing smile (She had found that by smiling with more of her teeth, it looked more genuine), and went to put in their chicken wing order at the terminal. As she punched it in, she looked up at the bar, watching Reggie chat with Mr Hanson.

Reggie was in his late fifties, and everyone assumed that he had actually been a bartender here before the place was even built, that they had built it up around him and given him a purpose. He lived in the apartments across the street, and evidently was a member of the original Scorpion biker gang that had started the place, although you’d never know it to look at him. His tattoos were all tucked away under his clothes, save for the small rattlesnake tail that peeked out from under his left shirtsleeve if you looked hard enough. The story goes that he had actually killed someone who had tried to harass one of the waitresses back in the late eighties. She didn’t actually think it was true, but it was a nice rumor to have around.

Of course, her eyes fell more on Mr Hanson. He nursed his scotch casually, without drama or hurry, and sat in his stool with a casual lack of concern. It was like he was too cool to care about how he looked. That obviously wasn’t the case… he dressed his age, and she doubted most people would call him cool, but that was part of his charm; he just seemed above the normal bullshit. And as she stood there, her hand on top of the ordering terminal, her thumb hovering between the buttons for teriyaki or honey glaze… she realized she was lingering on his body.

She liked how he just seemed BIG. he didn’t have a trim waist, or narrow hips. He definitely carried some weight to him, but he wasn’t FAT. It all just looked powerful. Knowing how tall he was, and how every part of him just resonated a feeling of… she still didn’t know what to call it. Warmth? Strength? She sighed softly, that little tendril of her hair falling loose from her ear and over her face again…

“Machine acting up again, Bee?”

She blinked, and looked behind her, realizing she was blocking traffic. “um…” she said, quickly finishing the order. “Nope, it’s fine…”

She picked up a pitcher and quickly made her way through the other tables, but they all seemed to be winding down. She glanced at the door again, but there STILL wasn’t anyone there. Not a good sign. The table of frat guys who had nearly harassed her but managed to hold their tongue was getting up. She was handed a credit card from one of them, clearly the treasurer. Frats like this regularly spent their money out like this, and while she wasn’t generally a fan of these guys at least they tipped well.

She ran their card, and glanced up again at the bar, biting her lip again. He sipped from his glass, and she watched the way his beard moved. His lower lip set under the rim, and she realized she liked the way he seemed to have very full lips, but they were hidden from view. She wondered how they felt to his wife when he kissed her, or….

“Bailey, you sure you’re ok?”

She blinked, and finished the card, placing it into the black book with their check, rubbing her hand over her bare stomach. “Yea… no, I’m fine… sorry.” she muttered, returning to the table where the guys were already standing and putting on their coats. The treasurer took it and signed it right in front of her, making a big deal about the exorbitant tip. She gushed her thanks, accepting their invitation to their huge ‘rager’ next weekend with an enthusiastic maybe, and then got to work clearing their table. She moved all the empty glasses to a tray, briefly hoping at least one of them had the sense to stay relatively sober, and started wiping the table down. She hoisted the tray up onto her shoulder, and turned toward the kitchen…

And caught eyes with Mr Hanson.

She felt herself freeze a little bit, realizing he was looking at her. There was a swelling in the pit of her tummy, and a small panic when she realized that both her hands were occupied and she desperately wanted to touch her hair, or her tummy… to somehow check and make sure everything was in place for him as he gazed at her. A tiny smile crept to her cheeks as she bit her lip, frozen to the spot. She carefully balanced the tray on her shoulder, and took away her opposite hand, holding it up, and giving him a quick playful wave before she moved it back to the tray… and started carrying it toward the kitchen.

She stepped through the doorway and realized that several of the servers were already in there, along with Kimberly, the shift manager. She exhaled, already knowing what was happening.

“I know, it sucks, but at least you’re all going to have a good night tomorrow, right?”

She set down the tray with a sigh. They needed to send someone home. It happened sometimes during the week when they just weren’t getting the necessary foot traffic. She stood up, looking around, and felt her heart sink. The other girls that were here tonight REALLY couldn’t afford to miss out on working. Katrina would never complain, but her son was starting second grade and Bailey knew she was scrambling to make sure she had new school clothes for him. Gretchen just didn’t tend to make as much as everyone else; she was still learning the ropes. She’d be great someday, but for now she needed every dollar. Deena had nearly half her tips and paycheck swallowed up completely, sent back to Puerto Rico to take care of her elderly father. Normally, Molly would be FINE leaving early, but she had just had someone hit her car last weekend and she was suddenly desperate to have enough to fix it.

She sighed, wiping her hands with her paper towel. She wasn’t in good shape either, but it wasn’t like a few extra hours would suddenly make everything okay. She raised her hand, reaching up to rub her shoulder. “I can do it, Kim.”

The other girls all turned to look at her, the relief on all their faces palpable. They each hugged her, Kimberly included. it would be easy to blame her, but it’s hard to be in that position, and Bailey knew she hated having to ask them for this. She just hugged them all back, and sighed… went back to the lockers, took her gym bag out, and pulled it over her shoulder. She didn’t know what buses were running at this time of night, she usually took the 1AM back to campus…

But of course… she wasn’t GOING back to campus. The realization blindsided her a bit. Was there a bus that would take her into her new neighborhood, or would she have to ride to campus and walk back? She exhaled. She used to have the bus app on her phone, but she had deleted it when this sort of thing became routine. She’d just have to reload it…

It occurred to her that Mr Hanson might have a notion of any bus stops in his neighborhood, but the idea of asking him a question like that, of appearing before him so needfully again, like a lost little fuckup… it made her heart sink. She walked back out to the sales floor, her hoodie on over her work clothes, her small drawstring gym bag over her shoulder…

He looked at her again, and she gave him a weak little smile. She walked over, a glass of water already waiting for her thanks to Reggie. She picked it up, and set her bag down next to Mr Hanson…

“Looks like it's a slow night, they needed to send people home…” she muttered, utterly failing to appear unscathed by the development. She hopped up onto the stool, her shorts failing to keep her bare legs from touching the cool leather as she draped her elbows on the bar and leaning on her arms dejectedly, embarrassed to look so down in front of Mr Hanson, but making it even worse. God, she hoped he didn’t regret taking her in as a tenant now that he knew what a disaster she was. She glanced up at him, giving him a weak little smile. “I don’t suppose you know if there’s a bus stop anywhere near your house?”

 

[Smarterwhip]

http://i.imgur.com/OTp6dSp.jpg

What would have earned Doug a scolding or even a slap from some women instead prompted a cute smile and wave from Bailey, a tray of empty beer glasses balanced on her shoulder. She retreated into the kitchen.

“Told you so, dummy…” the devil inside his head encouraging Doug’s impure thoughts, thoughts that further encouraged the swelling in his crotch. He HAD to stick around a bit longer now, right?

“You good over there?” asked the bartender, a few feet away. “Oh wait—you’re driving. My bad.”

Doug nodded in appreciation and slowly spun back to face the bar. He pulled out his phone and checked his messages. Sam texted that she was going to bed and reminded him gently not to be out too late. It was hardly a nag. He then noticed the time. Nearly 11:30—he had been stationed at the bar for more than hour already, but Doug felt he had just arrived.

“Maybe I should get home, Christ...” Doug reasoned but he managed to subconsciously stall by catching up on some Minnesota Vikings news online. He wasn’t a super sports fanatic by any means, but having grown up in Minneapolis, Doug kept track of the Twins during the summer—more so if they were winning—and the Vikings in the fall, the latter being more a source of disappointment than joy. But, the season opener was Sunday and don’t all NFL fans feel that maybe it’s their year the first week of the season? “Fucking assholes will never win a Super Bowl…” Doug? Not so much.

His loathing of his hometown team was mercifully interrupted by Bailey. He first heard her heels and then turned to see her exiting the kitchen, apparently done for the night given she had a zip-up hoodie on and a gym bag slung over her shoulder. She smiled softly and sat down next to him.

“Looks like it's a slow night, they needed to send people home…”

Doug noticed her long legs dangling from the barstool, her heels barely touching the floor. Her mood had not improved; in fact, Bailey seemed tired and dejected. Money—or lack of it—clearly was weighing on her. Doug could relate. He hardly came from a wealthy family and finally paid off his last student loan a year ago. Doug tried to cheer her up with a dose of goofy optimism, something that came naturally to him.

“Lucky you! You’ve had a long day, Bailey!” She turned to him and offered a thin smile in response. Doug wondered if his attempt at positivity went over like a lead balloon. She changed the subject.

“I don’t suppose you know if there’s a bus stop anywhere near your house?”

Ever the practical Midwesterner, Doug began with a earnest reply. “Let’s see...the 96 bus stops right out here on 18th Street and ends up in Tenleytown.” He stroked his beard and continued, arms folded in front of him. “Hmmm. You could also grab the Metro if you walk a few blocks to catch the red line…” Pointing in the general direction of the subway stop, it finally dawned on him that she was heading home—and as of today, her home was his home. Doug could almost hear Sam calling him a man-genius.

”Wait. What am I talking about? Why take the bus when you could just catch a ride with me, silly?” Doug’s comfort level and rapport with Bailey was rapidly reaching a point where he could tease and call her pet names like “silly” and who knows what else. He liked her and really wanted to boost her spirits. A ride home—especially since he was about to leave—was hardly any trouble.

Despite some initial protestations, Bailey agreed to his logic.

He continued, “I mean, you did comp me that drink after all. What’s a ride home? And we ARE both headed to the exact same place.” Doug stood up, stretched a bit, and looked down at her and winked, pulled out his wallet, and left a generous cash tip for the bartender. Bailey hopped off her stool and waved good-bye to Reggie—apparently that was the bartender’s name or that’s what she called him anyway—and then they departed the Scorpion Bar. Doug pushed open the heavy door and let Bailey exit before he did, arms crossed protectively over her chest.

“I’m not parked that far away at all—actually, just around the corner,” Doug offered with some concern, given it was a chilly night that seemed to catch Bailey off-guard, dressed in her cut-offs and just a hoodie to keep her warm. He could see goose-bumps forming on her strong, slender legs.

They took a right turn onto a side street lined with old rowhouses and reached Doug’s truck.

“No keyless entry on this old beast.” Doug chuckled, slapping the hood of the sizable SUV. He thought it would be little too much to open her door like some chauffeur, so he first unlocked his door, jumped up into the brown leather driver’s seat, and leaned over to unlock the passenger side. He then reached down and opened the door, his long arm easily swinging it open for Bailey.

“Hop on in!” Doug said with a smile on his face, patting his big hand on the bucket seat, the soft leather worn and reminiscent of an old baseball glove. He was in a good mood and it had everything to do with his new tenant.

 

[kaitlyn_sun]

http://i.imgur.com/CqbXFkl.jpg

“Let’s see...the 96 bus stops right out here on 18th Street and ends up in Tenleytown...”

Bailey took her tips out of her hoodie pocket and organized them as she listened, tallying up her cash and receipts on a small pad from the register on the other side of the bar, and slid it across the counter to Reggie, who took it to compare to the credit card records for her tips.

Her total tuition by semester was about 30,000 dollars. She had a scholarship that paid just about half of that, which meant that her bill for tuition was 15,000, give or take. That meant she had to set aside a thousand dollars for each of the 15 weeks of the semester… which meant every night she had to make, at minimum, two hundred dollars. That by itself wasn’t hard… she was mostly bringing drinks to horny frat guys with their mom’s credit cards, after all. The problem was that she relied on whatever she made beyond that for rent and living expenses. She saved up as much as she could during the summer, but she was from a small town, and the opportunities to make money there were slim at best. As Reggie passed her the cash that represented her credit card tips for the evening and she added it to the her existing stack of singles and fives, she came out to just about two hundred and thirty-two dollars. She sighed. Maybe Friday would make up for it?

”Wait. What am I talking about? Why take the bus when you could just catch a ride with me, silly?”

She looked up at him, realizing she had lost track of his bus advice. She hated it when people stopped listening to each other, it was so rude, but she had just done exactly that. She blinked, looking up at him. “Wait, what?”

“I mean, you did comp me that drink after all. What’s a ride home? And we ARE both headed to the exact same place.” He said as he tipped Reggie. She swallowed, looking at the bills he left, idly frustrated that more of her customers weren’t like him.

“Oh!” she said, finally catching up with what he was saying, tucking her bills into her pocket. “Y...yea! Oh my god, thank you!” She said, sliding off her seat and landing on her heels. She grinned at him and the way he seemed so confident. God, she was so lucky to have found him, what would she do without him? She followed him out of the place, waving at Olivia, the hostess, as he held the door open for her, stepping out into the brisk autumn night. She hugged her arms around herself, the cool air biting at her naked legs as she tried to keep herself close to Mr. Hanson and his body heat without looking TOO pathetic. “I um… I usually take the one AM bus, but I guess I’ll just have to get used to making the transfer…” she said idly, having to keep her steps quick to match his long stride. A quick gust caught her and she cinched her arms closer together. “Did you...park far?” She asked, trying to look casual as if she wasn’t freezing.

“I’m not parked that far away at all—actually, just around the corner,”

She exhaled with gratitude, doubling her pace. He stopped at an old-looking jeep and unlocked it with the key, climbed in and held the door for her. “Thank you…” she said quietly, taking her place and pulling on her seatbelt. He started the car, and for a moment she felt intensely, overwhelmingly safe. His car was like him… unfancy but powerfully functional, confident and warm. As he drove them home, she found herself looking up at him and the way his beard sat on his face… the way the muscles in his arms worked under his skin as he turned the wheel, even the way his jacket fell over his body. She bit her lip, consciously turning away. How come she couldn’t meet guys like him out in the world?

They finally got to his house… which was also her home, now. She smiled at him and thanked him for the ride, climbing out of the jeep in their garage, and followed him into the house. It felt right, for some reason, to keep herself behind him. It was his ride, his house, she was his tenant… something soothed her at the notion of all those things being his. He unlocked the door, and she followed him inside. The living room was dark. Mrs Hanson must have gone to bed. She grinned broadly at him as he looked down at her. “Thank you again, Mr. Hanson.” She said, feeling her gratitude to him bubbling up from inside her, even as her frustration at herself simmered in her belly... “For everything. I’m just going to go take a shower, and then go to sleep.”

 

[Smarterwhip]

http://i.imgur.com/OTp6dSp.jpg

The ride back home was quiet, both in that not much was said between Doug and Bailey and traffic was mercifully light. Doug correctly gauged that his glass-half-full routine was wearing thin on Bailey—or, at the very least, he figured she was tired after what amounted to a long day of moving into a new apartment, working out, and then a full shift at the Scorpion Bar. So, Doug kept his mouth shut as his old Mercedes truck rumbled back to Tenleytown.

The door of the new garage slowly slid upward with barely a sound. Once open, Doug moved the truck forward, stopped, engaged the parking brake, and shut off the engine. Bailey turned and flashed him a pretty smile and a soft thank you.

“Most welcome.” Doug replied quietly with a smile of his own. She was just so damn cute and adorable in spite of the shitty end to what would have been an overwhelming day for most. He couldn’t let go of his natural impulse to help her, to make her money problems go away so she could just return to her bubbly, optimistic, kissy-huggy self.

Doug exited and walked around the back of the vehicle to find Bailey politely standing aside it, almost submissively waiting for him to lead the way into the house. He fished the house keys out of his jeans pocket and opened the side door that led directly from the garage into the house.

“Here we are. I assume Sam is asleep.” He sincerely hoped so. It was already a stretch to visit his brand new, hot college tenant at work—and on her very first night sleeping under the roof of the house he shared with his wife. Even worse to show up together like this, Bailey’s thin bare legs tucked into her high heels suggesting she was still in her questionably slutty work uniform. Doug’s lust for Bailey also wanted the two of them to be alone.

He quietly pushed the door open and Bailey followed. The kitchen and entryway were dark but for the dimmed light above the stove. Doug glanced towards the living room beyond and saw that it, too, was dark and presumably unoccupied. Sam was more than likely asleep upstairs. She could be reading in bed, but given her early morning—and the fact Sam was the furthest thing from a morning person—Doug was fairly certain she was sleeping.

He turned and was about to confirm he thought Sam was asleep, even though this fact was quite irrelevant for Bailey’s purposes. After all, her room was two stories below Doug and Sam’s bedroom. Doug was clearly angling for some alone time with Bailey, whether he was able to admit that to himself or not. His swelling desire in his crotch directly confirmed that was his preference. But before he could blurt anything out, Bailey looked up at him and said:

“Thank you again, Mr. Hanson.”

Her smile and gratitude were genuine. He knew that, and for a split second he felt guilty for having any sleazy thoughts for this much younger woman who was truly a decent and kind person. He nodded at her words.

“Like I said before, not a problem, Bailey. I’m sure everything will work out with your books. It always does. But, you’re welcome.” Doug could sense that was still gnawing at her, even though she masked her frustration with a sweet grin. An exhausted Bailey continued, standing tall in the kitchen just above the stairs leading down to her new apartment.

“For everything. I’m just going to go take a shower, and then go to sleep.”

Maybe it was the scotch-and-a-half atop the couple of beers he had with dinner, but Doug’s sex drive had hijacked his brain processes at this late hour. At the mere mention of “shower” Doug instantly visualized a stark naked, purple-haired Bailey on her tip toes in the gleaming shower he installed downstairs, water bouncing off her hard body and huge tits. The thought caused his balls to throb.

Doug’s perverted lust also calculated he had exactly three seconds max to make a move, for Bailey was wiped out and didn’t appear to have any sexual intentions for him. She literally meant she was going to take shower, and then go to sleep. End of story. No ulterior motives. If the narrative was going to change, it had to be disrupted now.

With barely another sliver of thought, Doug gently placed his hand on her shoulder, subconsciously signaling to her not to turn and descend the stairs. Then, in a low voice just above a whisper, he leaned in and offered,

“Let me watch.”

Those three words rippled through Doug’s body as he slowly bobbed his head up and down as to if to tell her that I’m being serious and that it’s okay.

“Let me watch and I’ll pay for your books. For real. No strings attached.”

He waited for Bailey’s reply and hoped to Christ that he didn’t blow any chance for realizing his lurid fantasies for her AND lose a paying tenant in one fell swoop.

Doug squeezed her shoulder ever so slightly, to indicate he was sincere and that she was safe.

“I’m being serious, Bailey.”