Room with the owner

Thanks to my beloved, for the plot of this story.

Better to wait five minutes than to beg for three hours.

From a joke.

Katya sat on the top bunk, struggling to hold back tears. Everything she had hoped for had crumbled to dust. She had left her small town in vain. She had argued with her parents in vain. Everything was in vain, and she didn't know how to fix the situation.

Even this wretched place to sleep in the so-called apartment-type dormitory wasn't hers. Tomorrow, the owner of this bed was returning, and where was she, Katya, supposed to go? She didn't know. She didn't even have money for the trip home. Out of despair, she quietly began to cry, afraid of waking

the girl sleeping below.

And it seemed like everything would be so great. Her friend, who had left five months earlier, had painted such a wonderful picture: how well she had settled in, how much she was earning, in a couple more months she would rent her own apartment. She hinted that she could set her up well too. And then that stupid argument with her parents. She got very angry with them and, quickly packing her things, left for the city to her friend the next day.

And immediately everything went wrong. The embarrassed friend admitted she had lied a little. She only helped with this bunk for three days.

Unable to hold back, Katya sobbed a few times. The lower bunk creaked. She had woken the girl below after all.

— Why the tears? I've been hearing you for a while, just didn't feel like getting up, — Masha, that was the girl's name, was still yawning from sleep. — The big city didn't welcome the provincial princess? No money, nowhere to live, ashamed to go back home? — she quickly listed all of Katya's problems.

Katya just nodded in response. Tears streamed from her eyes even more than before.

— No point in crying! You have several options to solve your problems in one day, you just have to choose the one that suits you. First — call your parents, have them send money and go back. Yeah, very ashamed, not suitable? Second — go into prostitution, housing and some money will be provided. Also not suitable? Third, the most problematic, look at ads and hire yourself out as a live-in maid with housing and a bed.

— How's that?

— Silly girl, this is a city of millions! Full of single men with apartments. They let girls like you live there, and for housing you cook, clean, and sleep with them. They even pay a little money. You can scrape by for a couple, three months, then rent a bunk yourself and look for a job. Just need to negotiate the details, and not run into all sorts of... — she waved her hand vaguely in the air. — Decide, and act, stop crying and let me sleep.

She lay back down on her bunk.

— And where do I find such men?

— Oh, damn! Free ads on the Internet. The 'For Rent' section or 'Housekeeper Wanted'. You'll understand when you read them.

Katya rushed out to the city library. There was free Wi-Fi there.

Indeed, such ads were easy to spot. Not many, but they were there. The first one she didn't like as soon as she heard his voice on the phone. Without even finishing, she ended the call. The second one also turned out badly. The voice was normal, the conditions, as Masha had described, and the money suited Katya, but then an instant switch to informal 'you', and a familiar interrogation about her breast size, her 'skills'. She answered such questions as best she could, but when he asked her about the number of dicks that had been in her ass, she pressed the end call button. At nineteen, she was far behind her girlfriends. She had only had one boyfriend, who also took her virginity. A few times he persuaded her to give him a blowjob, but she had only heard about anal sex. And here were such questions, without even seeing her!

Kirill was waiting at home, judging by the voice, for a young girl who was supposed to take on cleaning his three-room apartment, filled with books. The whole problem was the books left by his parents. There were many, very many, everywhere, in the living room, in the study, and even in the hallway there were cabinets and shelves filled with various bindings. They collected so much dust, and if not moved around, they began to get damp, spreading a specific smell. Kirill didn't want to get rid of them, but he had neither the strength nor the time to care for them. Finally, on a friend's advice, he placed an ad for a housekeeping assistant. Two weeks later, the first candidate called.

The girl turned out to be pretty, not tall, slender. She was, however, somewhat tense. He showed her around the apartment, explaining in detail how to care for the books, while he couldn't understand what was bothering her. Maybe the pay? For some reason, she showed particular agitation in the bedroom, although there was the least work there, no books at all.

— Well, I think I've shown you, Katerina, the full scope of work, — they were still in the bedroom. — So, do you agree?

Unexpectedly, she interrupted him, blushing:

— I agree, but we'll only do it on the bed!

Kirill was dumbfounded. He was stunned by her words, remained silent, gathering his thoughts. Buying time, he suggested having tea and discussing all the conditions finally. While brewing the drink, he thought about her words, not understanding their meaning. What did the bed have to do with it? And then it hit him! He barely restrained himself from laughing out loud. The silly girl decided he was offering her housing with sex. He had heard about that once. Well, well!

Well, let it be so, a sin to refuse a gift, he was a bit of a fatalist. In short, he decided to play along with the situation. But not too much. He named the amount for her services the same as he was going to pay a 'regular' assistant.

When Katerina heard how much Kirill was willing to pay her, she sighed with relief. If he didn't cheat her, then in just three months she could rent a room and devote a whole month to job hunting. This was an excellent solution. And Kirill made a pleasant impression. He didn't evoke antipathy. She nodded, agreeing. They agreed that in three hours she would come with her things.

For two of the three hours, Kirill was lost in thought. At times he even regretted his decision to play along with this provincial simpleton. But then he stopped tormenting himself. 'It's never too late to refuse. I'll give her a month's pay as compensation if needed. That won't ruin me. And it will be fun to have such an adventure. Life is only one,' he decided, changing the bed sheets to fresh ones.

Returning, as agreed, three hours later, Katerina immediately got to work, starting with the study. 'Everything will be fine, everything will be fine...' she convinced herself, taking out books one by one, wiping off the dust, and putting them back. The monotonous work calmed her, making her forget about the inevitable arrival of night.

Kirill immersed himself in work, sitting at the computer. He was satisfied with how carefully Katya handled the books, how thoroughly she worked, completely pushing thoughts of her out of his head until evening.

At dinner, he got her talking, making her tell a little about her past life. He began to feel slightly sorry for her. Nineteen years old, pretty, and got into a bind. 'Why couldn't you just stay home?' he got angry to himself, finishing his tea. Dryly thanking her for dinner, he went to work.

Even at dinner, he had told Katerina that he goes to bed at eleven. Hearing the sound of water in the bathroom, he glanced at the time. Half past ten, wow! He remembered his ex-wife. 'Even now, trouble from her. If she hadn't thrown out my old sofa back then, there wouldn't be a problem. I could have made a bed for this silly girl there, and that would be that,' he laughed bitterly to himself. His married life felt like a bad dream, even though seven years had passed since the separation.

And then a solution was born, leaving him room for maneuver. 'Let's see about you, Katya, and then we'll decide,' he thought, setting an alarm on his phone for 11:15 PM.

At eleven, he regretfully closed the laptop lid. Went into the bedroom to get a robe from the closet, and glanced at the girl. She was lying on the bed, covered with a thin blanket up to her chin. Large frightened eyes intently followed his every move. 'No need to even think!' he instantly decided, hastily leaving the bedroom. He deliberately took his time in the bathroom, waiting for the phone signal. When the long-awaited ring sounded, Kirill, simulating a conversation with a colleague, shouted from the hallway:

— Katya, I'm urgently called to work, don't wait for me, I might not come back at all, — and with relief slammed the front door behind him.

He drove around the night city for about three hours, cursing himself with every word. The girl's frightened eyes were before him. 'That's it, tomorrow I'll give her money and let her get lost wherever, to her N-sk, to her friend, to hell in the end! I've played enough. I'm already forty, acting like a kid!' — with these thoughts he returned home. Quickly undressed, lay down, trying not to disturb the girl huddled at the edge, and immediately passed out.

In the morning, his resolve weakened. Entering the kitchen, he saw Katerina bustling about. She was in a light dress that, in the sunlight, seemed almost transparent, as if it wasn't there. He froze, examining her slender legs, tempting ass, and perky breasts when she bent over.

From such a picture in his own kitchen, his cock fully hardened, trembling with impatience. Katerina turned to him and greeted him cheerfully. Grunting 'Hi', he quickly disappeared into the bathroom. To take a leak, and... He didn't even think a few strokes of his hand would be enough to come so quickly and violently!

Sitting at the table, he caught himself thinking that he liked eating food he didn't have to cook himself, liked the set table, liked not washing the damn dishes. 'I'll weigh everything again at work, no need to rush. I can let her go in the evening too,' he thought, driving away from home. Kirill admitted to himself that he was just postponing the decision, but couldn't do anything about it. He liked her presence in his home, and the girl evoked sympathy.

Unfortunately, at work, he couldn't really think. Somehow everything got busy, and it all flew out of his head. He even had to stay late, and he remembered Katya when she called and asked what time to prepare dinner. 'Will have to get through one more night somehow,' he thought, parking in the yard.

At home, he was met by the smell of fried meat. He instantly felt ravenous hunger. In the kitchen, a set table awaited him. 'Alright, I'll fire her tomorrow, the girl tried hard...' he waved his hand dismissively.

— Well, Katerina, you've outdone yourself. Such a smell can only mean one thing. Soon the most real, most beloved male food will appear on the table, — he put a bottle of wine on the table. — Can't do without red wine.

Katya blushed, the praise pleased her. She filled the plates. Kirill opened the wine and poured it into glasses. Dinner rolled along smoothly. Kirill was on a roll. He proposed toasts, joked, told anecdotes. Katya listened to him with pleasure, laughing contagiously.

Kirill looked at her, saw that she was happy now. He felt good too. He couldn't do anything bad to her now, he didn't want to see that frightened look again! The solution was obvious. Without difficulty, pretending to be drunk, he thanked Katerina and went to sleep. 'Let her think I got tipsy from half a bottle of wine,' he thought, and unexpectedly for himself, actually fell asleep.

Katerina happily recalled the dinner while cleaning up in the kitchen. She had never felt so good and cozy. She wanted to sit quietly, relive the friendly atmosphere of dinner again. The study was perfect for that. She curled up in a deep armchair and looked at the bookshelves.

Katerina took one of the romance novels from the lower shelf and got absorbed in reading. The silence in the apartment, the cozy light of the desk lamp, the soft armchair — she relaxed. The tension of the last few days left her. She happily immersed herself in the heroine's experiences. Unexpectedly, the book had many explicit scenes, and Katya felt a pleasant pulsation in her lips. A languid excitement enveloped her. She acutely wanted to touch herself. She already reached her hand, but pulled it back in fright. 'Well, well! In someone else's apartment, with the owner sleeping!' she thought, surprised by her own desire. She remembered today's dinner. How gallant Kirill was, how he praised her! She liked his attention. But he appreciated not only her culinary talents. She remembered how he looked at her, greedily catching every curve of her body with his gaze. Her desire intensified. Katya quietly got up from the armchair and peeked into the bedroom. Kirill was sound asleep.

Settling back into the armchair, and assuming a comfortable position, Katerina stroked her stomach, ran her hands over her thighs, stroked her ass. Then her hands rose to her breasts. Very carefully, with her fingertips, she began to move over the areolas, through the dress, not touching the nipples yet.

Her body was already burning. She lowered a finger into her slit, ran it up and down a few times, as if preparing it for the main caress. Between her lips was wet, and the finger slid easily between them.

Kirill stood by the doorframe and watched Katya, holding his breath. He had woken up to take a leak. The whole apartment was dark except for the study. A strip of light fell from there into the hallway. Interested in what Katya was doing, he quietly peeked in. There was no door to the study. Standing to the side, he had a good view of the girl illuminated by the desk lamp. What he saw was so beautiful, so arousing, he couldn't have imagined it! His cock immediately strained his underwear. Placing a hand on it, he couldn't tear himself away from the sight.

The girl moved her hand between her legs faster, helping a little with her hips, moaned softly through her teeth. From the side, it seemed as if she was rubbing against her hand. In the silence of the apartment, another moan sounded deafeningly. She threw her left hand up, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Kirill was very familiar with that gesture. His wife used to do that when they made love. But on Katya, the gesture looked more elegant and sexy. A sharp desire pierced him, it seemed his cock even vibrated. Slipping his hand into his underwear, he took it in his fingers and began to leisurely stroke the hot shaft, watching Katerina.

The girl's fingers fluttered with frantic speed. Suddenly she stretched out in the armchair like a string, throwing her head back. Kirill finally saw all of her: tense slender legs, small breasts with protruding nipples that boldly pointed at the ceiling. A flat, clearly outlined in the side light of the lamp, pubic triangle, devoid of hair. She was beautiful! For several long seconds she froze, only the fingers caressing her clitoris moved, and then, trembling all over, as if a wave passed from top

to bottom, she muffledly sobbed and collapsed back into the tightness of the armchair, shuddering from the onslaughts of passion. From time to time she shuddered, moaned, clamping her hand between her legs.

Obeying a sudden impulse, Kirill took two steps into the room, seized by the desire to take her, feel her hot body beneath him, make her experience such ecstasy again, but now with him!

Kirill came to his senses, and backing out, without taking his eyes off Katya's face, flew out of the study. Returned to bed, and froze, slowly exhaling, trying to calm his pounding heart. 'Damn girl, almost drove me to rape!' — his ability to think was slowly returning. He lay there, afraid to move. An eternity seemed to pass when he heard the lamp click off in the study. Katya went to the bathroom. Then quietly, afraid to disturb him, lay down on the very