Before my girlfriend and I moved into our new apartment, we were renting a room in some guy’s house. We were never more happy than when we were living with him, but for very different reasons.
We were struggling to pay the bills, so instead of an apartment, we rented a room in a house advertised on Craigslist. It was an older house from the Victorian era, and had razor-thin walls. However, the house was in a safe suburb, the rent was cheap and it came furnished, so we took it. The owner lived in the house, his room beside ours. His name was Peter, a stocky white guy in his mid forties who, I suspect, let us have the room because he couldn’t take his eyes of my hot girlfriend. I couldn’t blame him – she was a spitting image of the actress Emma Stone. Not wanting to spend any more time looking for a place to live, my girlfriend and I moved into Peter’s house.
I felt like Peter looked down at me when he was with me, not because he was about 6’1 and I was 5’9, but because he didn’t think I was in my girlfriend’s league, at least that’s the vibe I got – he never actually said that to me. He treated me as someone beneath him, telling me after we moved in that the rent was cheap because the tenant of the room must clean the house, top to bottom, each day. It was a bait and fish tactic, but I didn’t contest it. I didn’t want my girlfriend on her knees scrubbing piss of the toilet seat, so I agreed to Peter’s surprise stipulation.
The Landlord Made Me Wipe His Piss Off the Toilet Seat Every Day
I don’t do anything half-assed, I go big or go home, so the place ended up looking immaculate – a little elbow grease each day saved a trip to the treadmill, so why not, right? Peter began to take advantage of that, though. With my girlfriend away, sometimes he would have me cook for him. I didn’t mind, since I made the same meal for my girlfriend and I when I made his.
Peter pushed my head back down, so that I was kneeling in front of the toilet while his piss stream spouted above me
My “generosity” extended to foot massages – Peter roller-bladed to work each day, so when he would come home and unlace his blades, you couldn’t help but take a whiff of his socks from all the other side of the room. The first time I rubbed his feet, I begged him to take his socks off, they were just too rank. He did with a smile, which turned into a laugh as he rubbed his thick size-13 bare feet all over my face. His big toe accidentally went between my lips. He took note that I did little to resist his foot assault, and that I licked my lips each time his big toe touched them.
One day I was scrubbing the toilet – Peter’s aim may have intentionally missed pissing into the bowl directly – when in walked Peter. He was talking to someone on the phone, stood over me, unzipped and pissed with my hand still in the bowl. I tried to get out-of-the-way but Peter put the phone between his shoulder and cheek and pushed my head back down with one hand, so that I was kneeling in front of the toilet, his piss stream spouting above me. As he finished, the remainder of his piss fell from the toilet and onto my hair, neck and back. Peter yanked my t-shirt and wiped his hands on them, not even caring that he stretched the fabric by doing so. He left the bathroom and continued his phone conversation without missing a beat. He didn’t even laugh at what he just did, let alone acknowledge it. He just exerted his authority naturally, without even trying to be an alpha-male. I had never felt so inferior to anyone than at that moment.
I Felt Inferior to My Landlord in Front of My Girlfriend
It wasn’t unusual for me to come home and see our bed unmade, since my girlfriend and I worked – and therefore slept – at inconsistent hours, but there were times I would make the bed and find her silky underwear between the sheets. It was interesting that she started to wear sexier underwear after we moved into Peter’s house, but didn’t think anything of it. I had just assumed she found a women’s store in the area that she loved. Sometimes there would be streams of wetness on the bed sheets – they were hard to see though. The last time it happened, I found a liner wet stream on my pillow that seemed to have hardened a little, crusty, like it had been left there for a few hours. I likened it to a layer of icing on a sugar doughnut. I didn’t bring it up to my girlfriend in case it was something woman-related, I didn’t want to embarrass her, so I just changed the pillowcase.
The bed started to become warped with each passing day, like it was taking a pounding from a lot of movement. Neither my girlfriend or I was overweight, so I couldn’t deduce what we were doing to the bed that made it less sturdy each day.
Things were consistent over the next little while. I knew Peter was getting laid while I was at work, because I would find condom wrappers, bras and panties in his bed when making it. I laughed to myself how Peter was just as untidy as my girlfriend when it came to bed-making. When Peter and I saw each other, it wasn’t as buddies or even professional. He never softened up to me, he always talked to me in a superior manner. It never bothered me.
My girlfriend started to wear sexier underwear after we moved in with Peter.
I became accustomed to taking instruction from Peter, sometimes wondering what he would have in store for me on the way home from work. There were times he didn’t even acknowledge me, and with idle hands, I would knock on his door and volunteer to do things for him, which always made him laugh. I think we both noticed over time that I was doing things for Peter, and not for the house’s maintenance. Needless to say, Peter never had to worry about an empty tank of gas or fridge, thanks to me. I prided myself on a guy you didn’t have to ask twice to do something.
I Began to Volunteer to Do Things for My Landlord
With both of us earning steady income, my girlfriend and I moved out a few months later, towards the end of summer, and into an apartment of our own. I think moving out was bittersweet for us both. While Peter and I were never friends, I felt like he awoken something inside of me, and wondered what I would do with all my free time, now that I wasn’t pampering him. My girlfriend also seemed bummed-out without Peter around. It was like a hole inside of her was now empty, and perhaps Peter had filled it up during our stay with him. It made sense to me, after all, she was home alone with him more than I was, so missing a “friend” was not unusual when changing environments.
My girlfriend was back to her jovial self after about a week, even though I remained “homesick”. I’m not sure what changed, but one day during my lunch break I decided to visit Peter, for “old time’s sake”. I was surprised when I saw my girl’s car his driveway. When I rang the doorbell, no one answered. I decided to return later, not wanting to interrupt whatever my girl came to see Peter for.
My girlfriend missed our landlord. She had a hole that only he could fill.
I returned later that afternoon and, to no surprise, Peter’s house was in shambles. He didn’t seem surprised to see me, almost like he was expecting me. He clearly wasn’t used to cleaning up after himself, perhaps relying on me a little too much. I volunteered to clean up before I left, and he told me to get comfortable and make myself at home. By that, he reminded me where I could find the broom, cleaning supplies, vacuum and laundry detergent. Same old Peter, even the condom wrappers and women’s underwear were still embedded between his bed sheets.
My girlfriend suggested that we made a mistake moving to the apartment, and asked what I thought of moving back into Peter’s house. Without missing a beat, I got the paperwork ready, the movers booked, and our bags packed, eager to return. Peter raised the rent substantially – we could have rented a bachelor apartment for the price he was charging us for one room. I justified the cost, telling my girl there was no price on happiness, and she agreed. Peter smiled at us both when he opened his doors to us again. He smiled devilishly, knowing we were coming to him when he really didn’t have to. My girlfriend and I both held hands and smiled at each other as we walked in, both eager for the future, but for very different reasons.