The Dominant Landlady

By JJ Argus

Chapter One

Looking for a room to rent near a college during school year was really not the kind of challenge I enjoyed. I'm a methodical, careful person. I plan everything in advance. I take no chances. I want to know the rules and follow them. Risk avoidance is my biggest character trait.

That does, I admit, make for kind of a boring life.

The number of dates I've turned down because of avoiding the risk that the guy would be a jerk, would be boring, would do uncomfortable things in embarrassing places, would want more than I would in my slow, hesitant way be willing to give, well, I couldn't possibly keep count.

I've turned down all kinds of invitations, from when I was very young and turned down sleepovers, to when I got older and turned down sharing apartments with other girls - or guys. What if things went wrong? What if we had a terrible fight? What if I or she or he couldn't pay the rent? So many things to go wrong!

It's easier to go along as I am than take the risk that something will go bad.

So, naturally, I had gotten a room well in advance of the start of the school year. And then the place had a fire. Whoops. What now? What now!? It wasn't just a matter of having to pay more, either. It was taking on risk. I didn't have the time to properly inspect the background of landlords, or the neighborhoods or possible roommates. I barely had time to visit what few rooms were still remaining.

And they were all full of risk! Like, risk of dying! Risk of getting attacked by rats or roaches or crazed drug addicts!

I'm very good on the internet. I'm comfortable there. I can check things out without committing. I can do street views and all kinds of other searches and reviews. I can check the crime rates in that neighborhood, and where the nearest stores are. I don't have difficulties with people on the internet. Especially - guys.

Don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't like guys - sometimes. When they're polite. When they're tamed. When they show a sense of restraint. Those are qualities which have often been absent among the guys I've been around, unfortunately. Whether they're jocks or nerds - and I can be a bit of a nerd - they're all fixated, obsessed with sex.

To them, I'm a target. Or prey. I'm prey in the same way a sheep is to a wolf. They want to sheer me, so to speak, to get me down to my skin. And then maul me with their eager hands and mouths and teeth. And many have very few principles about how they accomplish this. They'll lie, lie, lie, and take on a completely different persona to get into a girl's pants.

They'll act out a role, like a spy doing everything they can to reassure a girl of their good intentions. But all they really want to do is tear her clothes off and plunge themselves into her body. As for the girl herself, they could hardly care less. Once they're satisfied, they'll leave and search out new prey. That is, unless she's willing to make herself available at all times for their sex and then not demand anything else that might take them away from their sports or video games.

Do I sound a little bitter? Well, bad experiences and betrayal will do that for you.

Imagine trusting a person enough to strip naked and let him do what he wants to you, all surrounded by his flattery and praise, and then finding out the next day he joked about you being a 'dead fuck' and made gratuitous comments about your body?

But I digress...

Not trusting men was my default condition now. Added to my risk avoiding nature, that meant that I didn't have much of a social life, except online.

But now I had to find a place, and I wasn't finding anywhere at all acceptable. It was beginning to look like I was going to have to hit up my parents for a loan, enough to rent a whole apartment. And even then, one that would take an hour on the bus to get to school every day.

And I loathe public transportation! It's sooo risky! You never know what guy will say something embarrassing or sit next to you and aggressively hit on you - or worse! I mean, I dress down in public. I wear black almost everywhere, mostly to disguise my body and not cause a reason for men to stare at me and make comments.

It's my breasts, you see, more than anything. They're too big. I've hated them for years for the attention they draw. It's so hard to dress in something nice without my form being distorted by these big lumps of fat. You notice how most models have very small chests? That's so the clothes hang better and they look sleek and fit.

The irony is I actually AM sleek and fit - except for them. Maybe because I have more time on my hands. Maybe because I'm a little obsessed with my self-image. I exercise a lot, toning my body, especially my hips and belly and the muscles supporting my breasts. But nobody sees that.

Anyway, I'm getting away from what I wanted to talk about. Which is Kendra. I was desperate enough to keep checking the housing office on campus for anything new - hoping someone would cancel out for whatever reason. I was checking out several a day for I had borrowed my uncle's car, a little Fiat that got good mileage and was easy to park.

When I went to the housing office for the second time that day to look helplessly at the nearly empty board, Kendra was there. I disliked her on sight. She was everything I was not. She was tall, blonde, and clearly didn't mind exposing her body. She was wearing a tight little midriff-baring peasant top which exposed cleavage - which I disapproved of. And a long, loose skirt that was entirely too low on her hips.

She clearly wasn't worried about risk, or about guys making comments. I suppose that's admirable, but it made me jealous. I could only imagine looking like her, with her hair done in loose pigtails and that top getting on a bus or subway! Every guy she passed would be staring lustfully at her! And more than a few would be making comments, I'm sure. And worse!

"Nothing new, London," the woman behind the counter said as I sighed dejectedly and opened my purse to check what was left to see - apartments really, and much further out.

"London?" the blonde said. "I've been to London. You look nothing like a London."

I stared at her in confusion for a moment. Why was she speaking to me? I didn't know her. We had no business together.

"London is big and messy. You're small and tidy and neat," she said with a smile.

"Uhm, thank you... I guess," I said.

"You left it kind of late trying to find a residence."

"And you?" I asked pointedly.

"I've got a place. I'm waiting for my friend Emily to get off, so she'll drive me home."

"Oh. Well, I had a place and it burned down."

"Well, that's poor planning on your part. Why did you rent a place that was going to burn down?"

She said that in such a plain, deadpan voice that for a moment I thought she was serious.

Then she smirked. "Bad luck can't be planned for. But then again, neither can good luck. I bet you can rent a room where I am."

I blinked in surprise, then frowned uncertainly. Was this some kind of con? I didn't know her. This was risky!

"See, I rent this lovely room in an older home not far from campus from this woman who works a lot and goes on business trips and doesn't want the house to be empty. Maybe she'd rent a second room."

"Uhm, well, uh, where is it? How much is it?"

"For the right kind of girl, it would likely be manageable."

"What's the right kind of girl?" I asked suspiciously.

She grinned broadly. "You."

"I'm the right kind of girl? You know nothing about me."

This must be a con! Risk! Risk!

"You're very neat and precise. Your hair is perfectly done. You wear a pretty, but demure little gold chain around your neck. You're not a showoff, from what I can see of what you're wearing and what's underneath. You speak well. Wearing big ol' glasses doesn't necessarily mean you're a nerd but I get that sense of you."

"I have bad eyes," I said, a bit flustered.

"Half your face is covered by those things. Don't get me wrong, you actually look kind of cute in them. And you have these big blue eyes so that the frames actually act like frames, if you understand my meaning. Your shoes are practical but very clean. Your pants are black, but I have really good eyes, and they're well-pressed and fit well. Your bag is clean and from what I saw when you opened it you actually have the thing organized - which is a miracle I seldom see. That leads me to believe you're a very neat person and maybe a trifle OCD. How am I doing?"

I stared at her, somewhat open-mouthed.

"I bet Mrs. H will find you an excellent tenant."

"Mrs. H?"

"Her name is Swedish or Finnish or something. I just call her Mrs. H."

And then she held up her phone and took a picture of me.

"Wh-what are you -?"

"Sending her a text. Hang on a minute."

Her fingers flew on the keyboard.

She looked up after a minute. "I bet you aren't the kind to throw wild parties."

I stared at her. "Uhm, not really."

"Didn't think so. My name is Kendal, by the way. I'm taking law."

She didn't really look like a lawyer, to be honest.

"I'm taking Business."

I was taken aback by all this, but any prospect was worth trying, and if she was here and had a friend who worked at the student union and, admittedly, if she looked like she looked, she was probably safe. It was hard to look at her and think she was a dangerous person. Far from it. She looked like the kind of girl a dangerous person stalked.

She ought to have a whole tribe of dangerous stalkers after her.

When she found out I had a car, she beamed and yelled into the room to not bother, that she'd found a ride. A girl inside looked up and waved and Kendal put an arm behind me and guided me away and down the hall.

"This place is... nice?" I asked hesitantly.

"Gorgeous."

"I'm not rich, you know."

"It's the same cost as a residence room."

"What?" I stopped and stared at her. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Her arm pushed against my back and got me moving forward.

"And in the neighborhood?"

"Mrs. H doesn't need money. She's doing it to make sure the house is lived in, or looks lived in when she's away."

"But... taking on boarders?"

"As long as you follow the rules, she doesn't mind."

"What rules?"

"Stay out of certain areas when she's home. Keep the noise down. Clean up after yourself. Always," she said, emphasizing that. "Whatever mess you make, you clean up."

"I always do that."

"You and I run the vacuum or Swiffer around from time to time to keep dust from collecting and clean our own bathroom. We stay out of hers, which is in her bedroom anyway."

As we walked, eyes turned our way. Male eyes practically devoured her while female eyes looked jealous. She didn't even seem to notice.

"You're not a religious zealot, are you?"

"Uhm, no."

"You don't hate black people, brown people, gay people."

"I don't hate anyone!"

"Well, that's silly. There are lots of people out there to hate. I hate plenty of people."

"Uhm, who do you hate?"

"Anyone who tells me I can't do what I want to do or wear what I want to wear or go where I want to go because of stupid moral or religious reasons, and insist I take account of their disapproval."

Good thing I hadn't told her what I thought of her outfit. Though, actually, it looked cute on her. It was more her wearing it around people that I disapproved of, because it could attract too many eyes and too many nasty guys. Too risky.

It was kind of fascinating walking alongside her, though. I might as well have been invisible. Everyone was looking at her and I was this black shadow at her side. I'm not really used to being that invisible. You see, despite the dark and largely shapeless outfits I often wear I still get attention. I am accounted by most people as a very attractive - some even say beautiful - girl.

Kendal wasn't the first who had mentioned my eyes. And yes, my hair, though it's dark brown rather than bright blonde like her, is very pretty, very sleek, and very properly shaped and combed and styled so it frames my face and curves gently in just above my shoulders.

Trust me, I get looks. But today, all eyes were on Kendal in her tight, somewhat revealing top. I eyed her out of my peripheral vision as we walked. Her stride was quick and confident, and she stood very straight. Her stomach was quite flat, though not, I thought, feeling a little jealous, as firm and fit as mine.

My breasts are bigger, too, I thought. I bet I'd get tons of guys looking at me if I wore a top like that.

We walked down the stairs and down the path toward the parking lot.

"Hey!" a guy said as we passed, kind of waving.

Kendal ignored him, as did I. I worried, at first, that he was going to trot along after us and try to get her number, but he sighed and continued on his way.

"Did you know him?"

"Who? Oh. No. Guys are always hitting on me. I don't generally stop to let them get their sales pitch out. Why should I? I don't know them and don't need them. I have a whole address book full of guys who want to fuck me."

I was a bit startled at her words - I mean, not that she had an address book full of guys who wanted to have sex with her but that she'd say it so... calmly, casually, and obscenely. She looked like such a sweet girl who'd never utter an obscenity.

"So do you, I'm sure."

"Well, uhm, it's not difficult."

"Nope. Not when you look like we do. And I don't see why I owe some guy anything just because he finds me attractive enough to fuck. That's all that means, you know, when they hit on you. It's just strangers saying 'I like your looks. Can I fuck you?'. And I don't see why I need to be polite and gently put them off."

"You don't like men?"

"I like men. It does take time and effort to housebreak them, though."

"Well, that's certainly true."

"Just try to find a guy who doesn't think your tits are a squeeze toy," she said, rolling her eyes."

I felt my face redden a bit.

We reached the Fiat and I took out the fob and unlocked it. The car beeped and the lights came on.

"That yours?"

"My uncle's, actually."

"Well, it's a little below my usual standards," she said in a kind of lazy drawl. "I usually prefer Porches, Ferraris and Jaguars. At least a BMW or Mercedes."

It took me a moment to realize she was joking even as she got in.

"You'll have to guide me," I said.

"I shall be your mentor, child," she said in that same hoity-toity voice."

Okayyyy.