The Landlord
by Jeff Erno
For the first time that next day at work, my job actually did seem depressing to me. I couldn’t focus upon my tasks clearly and found myself having to rewrite sentences and paragraphs multiple times. I couldn’t help myself; I just could not concentrate. The single thing that kept entering my mind was Aaron. My feelings about him were so very conflicting. On the one hand, I craved him so badly -- desperately almost. On the other, I felt so ashamed of my own desires.
For so many years I’d been running from the realities about myself and my own passions. I had denied repeatedly that there was anything different about me. I just had not met the right girl. It all was simply a matter of timing. Eventually my heterosexual hormones would kick in, and everything would be just fine. I had explained away my fantasies as mere adolescent exploration. I thought all of these cravings eventually would abate -- they’d simply dissolve into my past -- when I actually met and fell in love for the first time.
But what were these feelings that I was experiencing towards Aaron? Why was he in my thoughts constantly? Why did I so passionately desire to please him?
I remembered the details of his body, the way he tightened his abs when I was sucking him off the night before. I remembered how clean he smelled, the sound of his moans when I gave him pleasure. It was almost like a purring -- pure contentment. The expressions on his face were burned into my memory -- his smile, the arch of his eyebrows, the way he cocked his head slightly when he leaned in to say something to me. I thought about how vulnerable and small I felt in his presence. His stature was commanding and authoritative.
How could this infatuation that I felt towards him be anything but love? It was like nothing I’d ever before experienced, and it was taking over my life.
I was watching the hands of the clock the last two hours of work and actually ended up leaving fifteen minutes early. When I got home, it was not even yet five o’clock. I changed quickly into a pair of sweats and began pacing the floor a bit. I debated getting a bite to eat, checking my email, watching Oprah. I did none of these things though, but merely walked back and forth in my apartment. Finally I grabbed the key that Aaron had given me the night before and headed downstairs.
As I stuck the key into the lock of his apartment door, my pulse was racing with nervous excitement. Visions of my encounter with him the day before flashed into my mind, and I wondered for a second if I was even going to be able to go through with the task of cleaning for him. I stepped through the doorway and slowly closed the door behind me. It seemed so eerie in here, far too quiet.
For a few seconds I felt disoriented, and I looked around the apartment. I saw the coffee table, still pushed back away from the sofa, and the ashtray that Aaron had been using when he smoked the joint. Even the can of Diet Coke I’d been drinking remained on the end table where I’d left it. I wondered for a second how someone who seemed to be as perfect as Aaron could be such a slob when it came to his own apartment. Literally every aspect of his appearance and wardrobe were immaculate. He owned and drove an expensive car which seemed to be always spotlessly clean. His teeth were sparkling white, and his hair was perfectly groomed. He always was clean and preppy looking, the all American young businessman.
I guess it was true that no one was perfect, I thought. So the guy was lousy at housework, big deal. It seemed to me for a moment that it would be so appropriate for him to have a partner… or a wife … who would take care of these sorts of things for him. He obviously was more than capable of handling the financial matters in his life. He could definitely bring home the bacon, but it was like he needed someone behind the scenes to be his organizer, his helpmate. I smiled to myself for a few seconds as I stood there in the middle of his living room, envisioning myself in this sort of role.
Oh my god! I suddenly realized how ludicrous my thinking had become. I was a man, not a wife! How could I ever even entertain such thoughts as these, emasculating myself? How could I think of myself in terms of being another man’s servant, his maid? But then suddenly I stopped in my tracks and looked around me. Why was I even here then? If it was so horrible for me to lower myself to a position of submission, then why was I scrubbing Aaron’s toilet and washing his dishes? And even more pertinently, why did I blow him yesterday?
There was something about Aaron that literally made my knees weak. Something in his demeanor, in the way he looked at me, in his very air, brought me under his authoritative umbrella. He seemed to overshadow me, to make me feel as if I were by nature beneath him. It was so odd, though, for it was not a horribly negative feeling. It was not a loathsome, degrading feeling where I suddenly felt like the scum of the earth. Instead it felt comfortable for me, natural. When I slid to my knees at his feet the day before, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratification that compared to nothing I’d ever felt before. It just seemed right.
I walked around the apartment for a few minutes, taking in the task that lay before me and mentally mapping out a plan as to how I was going to go about my cleaning chores. When I stepped into the dining room, I saw a note on the table. It was folded over with my name written on the outside. He must have left me instructions. I reached down to pick it up and when I did, a bill of currency slid out onto the table. It was a hundred dollars.
Mark,
Thanks for yesterday. Sorry you took off so suddenly. Hope you’re okay. Give me a ca
Aaron
Aaron’s handwriting was scrawling and practically illegible, but I was astonished by the contents of his letter. The thing that was most puzzling to me was that I was aware that it must be obvious to him that I viewed him as being superior to myself. Not only did I get remarkably timid in his presence, but I also was so incredibly respectful towards him. I was here now for the purpose of cleaning for him, and the day before I even served him sexually. Yet in spite of all of this, he was being so kind to me. He was treating me with dignity and respect even though he did not actually have to do so at all.
I placed the note back down on the table, sliding the hundred dollar bill back within, and headed for the bathroom. I then began to clean, scrubbing his shower again as I’d done once previously. I cleaned and scoured and polished and vacuumed and dusted, working furiously and painstakingly like I never had done before. Within an hour, the apartment was shining, totally spotless. Then I walked back over to the dining room table and picked up the note. I retrieved a pen from his desk in the corner and added a notation to the bottom.
Aaron
Please allow me the privilege of doing this cleaning job for you as a way of expressing my gratitude for your kindness to me. I honestly do not want your money. I hope you are satisfied with the job I did.
Sincerely,
Mark
I then placed the note back in the same exact position where I’d found it, turned off all the lights, and headed back upstairs to my apartment.
*************
Later that evening, I was somewhat disappointed that Aaron had not contacted me after he got home. I’d heard movement in the apartment below, and was waiting anxiously, thinking he would call me or possibly even come up to my apartment. When it got to be ten o’clock, I sort of gave up on the notion and settled in to watch a news magazine program on the television. At about ten thirty I heard a thumping sound that was coming from downstairs, and I got up from the couch to try to isolate where the sound was originating.
When I got into my bedroom, I realized that someone from downstairs, presumably Aaron, was pounding something against the ceiling. He was doing this right near a heating vent. Immediately I dropped to my knees and pressed my ear close to the vent. I did not hear anything except for the incessant thumping. I smiled to myself, unsure of what I should do. Should I ignore him, try shouting something down the vent, or respond in some other way? I stood back up nervously, and simply looked down at the floor. Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump! His pounding was rhythmic and quite obviously deliberate. Finally I got up a little bit of nerve and lifted my foot quickly, stomping as hard as I could on the floor. Immediately his thumping stopped.
I stomped again, then a third time. Quickly he responded, pounding whatever object he was using to hit the ceiling, in an identical pattern as my stomping. I started to laugh as I stomped some more, tapping out a melody of sorts with my feet. Stomp-da-da-domp-domp… and then his response: Thump! Thump! I burst into a gale of laughter then, realizing he was playing a game with me. What should I do? I wondered. Should I continue? Should I go downstairs?
I did not have to deliberate long on these questions, for a few seconds later the thumping stopped and my phone rang. I rushed over to the extension in the bedroom and picked up the receiver, “Hello?”, I said tentatively.
“Hey! What’s up with all the racket?” Aaron said to me, rather seriously. “I’m tryin to get some sleep down here!”
Taken aback by his sarcasm, my mouth went agape, and I was not sure how to respond.
“Huh?” he said, “you got a party goin on up there or something?”
The sound of his voice again, it was once more doing it to me. I couldn’t think of what I should say. “I’m sorry…” I finally managed.
He started laughing. “Come visit me,” he said. I paused for a moment, standing there next to my bed. “Please--”. His voice had softened, sounding almost seductive, somewhat urgent, pleading.
“Okay,” I said. “Okay.”
“Hurry up!” he said.
“Okay,” I said again, feeling foolish for not being able to think of a better response. “Bye!” I then quickly hung up the receiver and ran over to look at myself in the mirror. God! I was still wearing my sweats, and my hair was a mess. I grabbed a comb from the bathroom vanity and began to run it through my short hair. “Yuck!” I screamed into the mirror, making a face at my own reflection. Finally I ran back to the bedroom and picked up a baseball cap off the dresser. I pulled it on and went back to the mirror. Better, I thought. I then went out to the living room and scooped up the remote, flicking off the television as I grabbed my sneakers.
When I got to his apartment door, I did not even have to knock, for the door opened upon my approach. Aaron was standing there in front of me, smiling. I stopped in my tracks, staring at him as I took in the entirety of his towering presence. He wasn’t in dress clothes this time, but was wearing an oversized beater shirt and basketball shorts. He had on low rise white ankle socks and no shoes. He was holding a broomstick in his hand, apparently the apparatus he’d used to make the thumping noises. Without saying anything, he took a step backwards, as if to invite me to step inside. I did exactly that, and he pushed the door closed behind me.
He looked down at me, being only inches away, and simply dropped the broom without concern. It bounced off the wall and fell to the floor, making a loud clanging noise behind us, but neither of us really paid attention. We were staring at each other. I felt his hands on my shoulders as he inched his way closer to me, still saying nothing. He slid his fingertips up my neck, eventually cupping the back of my head as he leaned into me. Then oh-so-gently he brought his face closer to my own, pressing his lips carefully against mine. It was such a tender kiss, so very sweet, and as he pulled away from me I stared up into his eyes, noticing for the first time how penetratingly blue they were.
“God you’re cute!” he said.
He pulled me into himself again, this time not kissing me but instead embracing me, sliding his hands down my back, pressing his body against my own. I could smell him again, that purely clean, intoxicatingly masculine scent. I slid my hands around his back then, grabbing a hold of him and feeling the hardness of his body against my own. This wasn’t actually happening, was it? Surely it was a dream, I thought. He pulled away from me, not attempting to kiss me again, but instead leading me over to the couch.
“Sit down,” he said, “You want something to drink?”
I shook my head as I looked up at him. “No thanks,” I finally said, these being the first words I’d spoken since I got there. He sat down on the sofa beside me, and we shifted our positions so that we were facing one another, me tucking my knees under myself and he resting his arm against the back of the couch.
“Mark,” he said seriously, “I gotta talk to you about yesterday. I was so worried.”
“You were?” I asked, surprised by his compassionate tone. “Why?”
“You left so soon; I thought you were really freakin,” he explained. “I didn’t know why, that’s all.”
“Oh… um,” I looked down into my lap as I tried to formulate an appropriate response. “It’s just -- well-- um, I never did anything like that before. I’m sorry. Guess I did freak a little.”
He reached over, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Do you wish you hadn’t done it?” he asked. “Are you sorry --”
Immediately I shook my head. “No!” I said. “No, it was awesome. It was what I wanted, honest.”
“It was hot!” he said, smiling at me. “You were hot.”
I laughed, giggling a little to myself, as I felt my face getting warm. “But--” I looked up at him seriously.
“But? But what?” he asked.
“But I don’t want an arrangement… like you said. I don’t want it to be that way.”
“It was a stupid thing for me to say,” he admitted immediately. “I’m sorry. I … um… I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I didn’t mean to cheapen it.”
“Okay,” I said, smiling at him again.
“You know, we don’t know that much about each other really. Tell me about yourself. Tell me everything. Have you ever done anything like this before? I mean I know you just said you hadn’t, but have you known about your feelings? Have you known you are-- ya know-- into guys?”
“Gay?” I asked.
“Yeah, whatever you wanna label it.”
“I knew I was into you,” I said. “I knew it right away, ya know. I just had no idea cuz I thought you had a girlfriend.”
“I do!” he said. “I do have a girlfriend, but it’s just weird.”
“What do ya mean?” I asked.
“Well Robin, she’s been my girlfriend for so long… since high school. I really care about her, a lot. People think we eventually will get married, ya know. I think that maybe even she expects that, but it’s not really what I want. I can’t see it.”
“Maybe you should tell her the truth,” I suggested.
“But I’m not sure what the truth is,” he said. “I’ve done things with other guys, well with Joey mainly. I just thought it was experimenting though. I just thought maybe it was a phase, or that I was bi or something. You’re the first person, though, who’s ever made me feel like this.” He squeezed my shoulder gently.
“Like what?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
He sighed as he looked into my eyes. “You’re just so cute!” he said, this being the third time he’d said this to me. He told me that the day before, and now twice today. “I can’t get over the way you look at me, the way you seem to be almost… I don’t know… worshipping me or something. It just makes me-- how can I say this?-- it makes me like totally rock hard!”
“Really?” I asked. “Does Robin make you rock hard?”
He shook his head. “No, not really. Sometimes, I guess, but it’s different. I like her. Maybe I love her, I don’t know, but it’s just different. All I could think about today was you. All I could think about was your smile, your laugh, the way you look at me. I wasn’t gonna call you tonight. I thought I should wait, let you call me if you wanted to, but I was down here by myself just thinking and thinking about you. I couldn’t help it. That’s why I started beating on the ceiling with that stupid broom.”
I laughed right out loud. “I couldn’t figure out what you were doing. It sorta scared me!”
“It scared you? Ya think it was an earthquake or somethin?” he said, laughing.
“I didn’t know what to think. It was funny though. Now you at least know how to get my attention. I want to tell you something though.” I shifted slightly in my seat, feeling really nervous and awkward, but also willing myself to be brave and to say what I needed to say.
“What?”
“I think about you too, all the time. It’s true what you said. I do sorta … um… worship you.”
“Why do you say that?” he asked, leaning into me. “What is it about me that there is to worship?”
“Everything!” I answered, a little too quickly. “You’re just so confident, so good looking. You are successful, smart, a good dresser. You seem to always know what to say. You’re funny. I first started thinking about you all the time that day I met you, when I first cleaned your apartment. It made me so excited to clean for you.”
“Wow, it made you excited to clean for me?” He laughed hard at this statement. “Why would that excite you?”
“I don’t know,” I said, now a little embarrassed. “I guess it sorta made you seem superior or something, that I would be below you, having to clean up after you.”
“But you didn’t have to clean up after me. You were getting paid for it, ya know. I don’t think it makes you below me to be hired to perform a service.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I pretended what it would be like to not get paid for it, to do it just cuz you are superior.”
“Do you want a guy who is superior to you?” he asked, sounding rather intrigued by the mere suggestion.
“I don’t know,” I said again. “I’ve never had a guy of any kind. All I know is you… um… really turn me on.”
“So if I boss you around, you think that would turn you on?” he asked, smiling slyly at me as he said it.
I looked at him wide-eyed and simply nodded.
“Get over here, now!” he ordered. Immediately I slid closer to him. He once more grabbed my shoulders and pushed me backwards. My legs slid out from underneath me as he leaned on top of me, pressing my back against the seat of the sofa. He was on top of me now, pressing his body hard against my own. I felt the weight of him as I sunk down into the cushions. His lips connected with mine again, this time with far more fervency. Our mouths parted and he slid his tongue into me, kissing me with genuine passion. I responded, reaching my arms around him, trying to press my body as closely to him as possible, even though we were already practically conjoined. His kiss was long and passionate, unlike anything I had ever experienced. When he pulled away from me slightly I gasped for breath and moaned.
“Oh god!” he said, ripping the baseball cap from my head and tossing it on the floor. Then he kissed me again, over and over. He just kept kissing me.
I thought I would literally die!
Maybe I did in fact die, for surely I was now in heaven. I knew with certainly for the first time I was not going to regret living so close to my landlord.
