and all for a peanut butter sandwich.

      I'm broke again.  Unfortunately, I realized this a little too late this time, and now find myself selling possessions, and looking for dirt cheap rooms to rent, including storage spaces.  My friends no longer let me stay on their couches.

  

      The rentals I'm eyeing are short term; they tend to be the least expensive.  Which means, the rest of tenants are there short term as well, meaning anything from students, to recent immigrants or exchanges, to people that have serious trouble with money and holding down living accommodations, due to a variety of reasons, including drugs, alcohol, or mental disorders.  Unfortunately, these rooms are also slightly out of my financial reach.

      Which is why I'm looking at this room today.  I know it's going to be bad, at $300 a room, furnished, cash only, and immediate occupancy, but it's the only thing I've come across that's actually in my price range.  I called the landlord, and he hurriedly said that I need to come right now to see it, and that he'll be waiting for me. So, I leave immediately, practically running there. 

      On the outside, it doesn't look too bad, and even as he takes me through the main floor, towards the stairs, I find myself pleasantly surprised.  Apparently those were his quarters, because upstairs is a different story.  The grungy bathroom and kitchenette, I'm told, are shared with three guys, all foreign, and here temporarily.  There are yellowing, handwritten signs posted everywhere, aggressively telling the tenants everything from shutting the fridge door properly, to not touching the thermostat, to cleaning up after yourself.  Foil covers much of the walls in the grimy kitchen, the rest by peeling paint, and I spy both mouse, and cockroach traps.  He continues upstairs.  Four bedrooms, all with heavy locks on each.  He unlocks one, and we step inside the tiny space.  It's a mess of garbage, dirty laundry, and rotting food.  I think I see a cup full of urine.  The landlord says the last tenant left in a hurry, and bends to pick up some of the clothing and toss it in the corner.  
     "I'll clean this up a bit before you come," he says offhandedly.  No window, a thin mattress on the floor for a bed, and the ceiling cuts at sharp angle.  I sigh, depressed just looking at it.  But, despite obvious reservations, I am forced to say that I'll take it.  We exchange funds, and he tells me to come back in a couple minutes, while he puts the room together.  It's already dark outside, so I sit on the sidewalk curb with a cigarette, relieved that I've finally found a place. 

      That night, I meet one of the other tenants in the kitchen.  He has a large build, and is quite tall.  Fair hair with a slightly hooked nose, perhaps Polish or Danish.  Starving, and now completely drained of cash, I ask him if he has anything to eat.  He thinks about it, then smirks, and throws me the peanut butter sandwich he just made himself.  I devour it, with him watching me the whole time. "Thank you.  I get paid tomorrow," I lie. 
      "Uh huh," he replies, walking out of the room.

      

      Late at night, there's a knock at my bedroom door.  Foolishly, I open it.  What good's a lock, if all they have to do is knock?  It's him; Polish or whatever, large, and intimidating.  In the dark, he backs me into my room, until my heels hit the bed, and I fall into a sitting position.  He looks down at me, saying nothing.  I'm frozen with fear, wondering exactly how much trouble I'm in.  He reaches down and cradles my face in his hand.  I look up at him, trying to read his face, but seeing only the outline.  Then, he slowly unzips his fly, and pulls out his cock.  I don't move a muscle.  His hand again touches my face, squeezing my cheeks, so that my mouth opens.  I look up at him while he does it, and I think I can faintly see him smirk again.  He quickly puts his cock inside my mouth, like he's trying to hide it from someone.  It almost gags me, touching the back of my throat, but he holds my head there.  He begins to slowly thrust into my mouth, his head tilting back in response.  He reaches through the neck of my shirt, and fondles my breasts with his other hand.  The room is silent, other than the creaking of the floorboards as he shifts his weight back and forward, and the wet sound of me sucking his cock.  I hear him grunt, almost under his breath, while continuing to fuck my mouth.  He wants to speed up, but I reach to take it out for a moment, only to breathe.  I'm not going to stop him; I'm willing to do what I have to do.  Nonetheless, he takes his large hand out of my shirt, and after several attempts, and slapping sounds in the otherwise silent room, manages to grab both of my wrists in his one mighty grip.  
      He tries to pull down my pants, but I firmly say, "Just blowjobs."  I'm not about to let this guy get me pregnant, no matter how much he protects me while I stay here, or what food, or other perks he gives me.  He stands up straight for a moment, still holding my hands in his, perhaps mulling it over.  Then, I feel his hand on the back of my head again, pulling me close to him, his cock reentering my mouth, and moving in slow, long thrusts now.  His hand grips my hair, moving my head over his cock, suddenly speeding up like before, my hands instinctively trying to reach up again, but him pressing them into my lap with all his weight.  Going faster now, I close my eyes, and wait for it.  The huge, hot burst hits me, and I almost gag swallowing it all.  When I have, I look up at him again.  Any parting words?  He silently stares down at me for a moment.  I can hear his breathing return to normal.  He zips up, and watches me all he way out of the room.

      I light a cigarette.  I hope he has something better tomorrow than peanut butter sandwiches.