The Landlord

by Jessica James

Copyright© 2016 by Jessica James

Sex Story: Could such a creature as a benevolent predator exist? Is such a contradictory concept even possible? If so, 16-year old Jimmy Fowler is the poster boy. His mother, Glory, gave him a 44-unit apartment building for his birthday. He selected his tenants with meticulous care. Women. Poor women. Women with children. Attractive, sexy, vulnerable. Ah, the key word - vulnerable. Yet, Jimmy had a softer side. Hmm. And ... who are The Six? And just what is the Basement Supply?

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Coercion   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Mother   Son   Brother   Sister   .

As is my wont, I wove my own physical description into the character of Jimmy’s mother, Glory. No shame, no embarrassment, not for me. Besides, she plays only a minor role, so it’s not like I’m hogging the spotlight. Not this time anyway.

And, it’s no coincidence that the title character has the same name as the one my son made up to post here -- Jimmy. The landlord-Jimmy shares some of the same characteristics as my real life son. I’ll leave it to you guys to figure out which ones are true and which ones I made up.

Readership note: Jimmy told me he’s trying something new with this silly little story. Instead of posting in chapters as he’s done in the past, he’s dumping it all at once.

Perhaps ‘dumping’ is an inelegant word. Hmm ... posting.

Of course we may revisit ‘The Landlord’ someday. Or maybe not.

Keep it up!


The first thing that everyone noticed about Jimmy Fowler was how beautiful he was. Not handsome, beautiful.

That Jimmy was a genius hadn’t been in question since he turned 3. A Seattle native, he earned his doctorate from UC Berkeley when he was 14. His mother, Glory, had mixed feelings. Sure, cool to earn a PhD at a young age. But in philosophy?

As she did in most instances regarding her only child, Glory moved on. She had a real estate empire to run. Her great-great-great-grandfather had purchased undeveloped and underdeveloped land all over and around Seattle. Land that appreciated every decade.

And that appreciation allowed subsequent generations of Fowlers to buy even more properties.

Glory gave her son his own building for his 16th birthday. Not a luxury property of course. But undeniably valuable. Situated between Pioneer Square and the Pike Place Market, the area had been gentrified long ago. As Seattle prospered so did Jimmy Fowler’s Bradford Building.

The Bradford, dating back to the late 19th century was seven stories high and constructed from dark red brick. Glory had had it gutted, brought up to code with new electric, plumbing, furnace, steam radiators. She had her contractor install new hardwood floors, new kitchens and bathrooms, new balconies ... new just about everything.

The Bradford was a little jewel.

The building had six apartments on each floor -- four one-bedrooms and two studios. There were two smaller studios in the basement.

Glory had an eye for the bottom line. Studios started at $800 while the one-bedrooms ranged from $1200 to $1700. Parking was included.

She told Jimmy, “You’ll break even at 45% occupancy.”

“What was the occupancy rate before you renovated it, Ms. Glory?” Jimmy had an odd, formal, almost courtly way of speaking. Always had.


Jimmy looked curiously at his mother. This didn’t disconcert Glory, nothing much did. Jimmy looked curiously at most people. At most things. At most events.

Glory, 28-years old, still didn’t understand what had prompted her to go ahead and have a baby. Back then her own mother, Gwendolyn, had long ago put Glory on the Pill. It was just one of those infrequent times when the Pill didn’t cooperate with a young girl’s chemistry.

Gwen left it up to Glory to have the baby or not. Just so long as Glory kept learning the real estate business, Gwen pretty much left her on her own.

Like her mother, Glory was tall at 5’ 10” and slender. Wide swimmer’s shoulders, small perky boobs, narrow waist, taut butt. Long, long legs leading up to a bald pussy that belonged on a little girl.

It was when she was wearing clothes that people, especially other women, noticed Glory’s covergirl face. Model’s cheekbones, wide generous, laughing mouth. Striking green eyes. Thick auburn hair which Glory currently had fashioned into a short, almost crewcut style.

After nursing her baby for a few weeks, Glory turned Jimmy over to a nanny to raise. Glory was sopping up a startling amount of real estate and property development knowledge. She had the bug. Just like her mother and earlier generations of Fowlers.

Glory was pretty sure she knew who had fathered her child. As the boy matured and his facial features became more defined, she told her mother, “Boyd Jamison. I’m almost positive.”

Gwen smiled, “Pretty Boyd Jamison. Yes, I can see the resemblance. Definitely.”

Neither Glory nor her mother was the least concerned about who the father actually was. But it did explain why Jimmy was so pretty. More beautiful than his mother and grandmother, and that was saying something.

Once Glory had come home earlier than expected and had caught her nanny sucking the boy’s cock. Because Felicity hadn’t heard Glory, Glory backed away and left the house.

A couple of weeks later she remembered the incident and told her mother, “I don’t mind about Felicity. Won’t do any harm. And maybe he enjoys it.”

“Probably does.”

When Jimmy was 8, Felicity asked Glory if she and her boyfriend could take him to a nudist resort near Snoqualmie Falls. Glory shrugged, “Sure.”

It was impossible to say who wanted the beautiful boy more -- Felicity or Brad. Felicity’s current boyfriend wasn’t gay, certainly not. He didn’t even consider himself bi. Yet ... sweet jesus, look at little Jimmy Fowler.

An auburn halo around his angelic face. Slender, unblemished body. Tall for his age. Shortish cock, but fatter than Boyd’s own. And Boyd’s wasn’t thin.

Sunday night, back home on Lake Union, Jim told his mother, “Ms. Glory, I’m a nudist now.”

Shrug, “Fine, honey.”

Felicity wasn’t surprised at Glory’s indifferent reaction. Casualness defined the woman’s attitude toward raising her son.

Glory kept Felicity on long after the need for a nanny had passed. Years longer. Glory told her mother, “Felicity’s turned into a decent cook for when I’m home for dinner. And Jimmy likes her.”

“Is she fucking him?”

“Oh, I’m sure she is. Probably started years ago.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?”

“I think so. Jimmy mentioned someone named Phil. Felicity goes through boyfriends at a pretty steady pace.”

“Do they have an interest in Jimmy?”

Glory laughed, “Probably. Who could blame them?”

At UC Berkeley, Jimmy Fowler was noticeable for a couple of reasons. His youth, although at 10 years old, he wasn’t the youngest student there. But his appearance caught almost everyone’s eye.

Was Jimmy vain about his remarkable visage? No, not in the least. He took his looks in stride just like studies were easy for him, just like he loved classical music, he simply looked like he looked.

A group of seniors and grad students took him under their collective wing. Jimmy was a lively conversationalist, happy to talk about any subject that came up. Curious about anything and everything. The ever-shifting group was composed more or less equally of boys and girls.

One of the girls, Lacey, first got Jimmy interested in philosophy and he was soon hooked. With his intelligence, the faculty advisor would have let him major in anything he wanted. As she told her husband, “The kid’s rich. Or his mother is. He doesn’t need to worry about practicality. Philosophy is as good as anything.”

Which was fortunate, philosophy and the ability to earn a living didn’t have even a nodding acquaintance.

The student group which had adopted Jimmy was known as The Quirks. They didn’t, for the most part, fit any campus norms. And for Berkeley, that was difficult to accomplish.

That they smoked dope didn’t raise an eyebrow. Now if they didn’t, that might have gotten someone’s attention.

That they frequented Baker Beach and other nude beaches was typical college behavior. It was interesting, that while Jimmy’s cock wasn’t that long, it was fatter than any of the older boys.

No, The Quirks had earned their nickname because they were so relentlessly normal. They partied hard, they studied hard, they would graduate on time -- or, like Jimmy, ahead of time.

Once out in the real world they would work hard. The Quirks had that most American of habits, rare these days among the young -- a strong work ethic.

Living in a freshman co-ed dorm during his first semester at Berkeley, Jimmy continued his nudist ways. To, a mostly bemused reaction. At least he dressed to go across campus to his classes and labs. Not everyone did.

Jimmy hadn’t sought out a nudist lifestyle. Felicity and her various boyfriends liked seeing the beautiful kid in the buff. The Quirks, without knowing about his Washington experience, merely continued taking him to the nude beaches that they were frequenting anyway.

Glory, feeling vaguely maternal, visited her son one time for each of the four years he sped through his degree, his Masters, his PhD. After her first visit, when he was living in that dorm, Glory bought him a bungalow in the Berkeley hills.

For each of her next three visits, he was still a nudist. But had different roommates -- boys and girls each time.

Both Glory and her mother had intended to attend his doctorate ceremony, but it got lost in the shuffle of two busy calendars. Jimmy hadn’t noticed, he’d been more or less on his own since toddlerhood.

On his 16th birthday, well actually a few weeks after, Glory’s appointment book was jammed packed, Jimmy signed the papers that his mother’s law firm had drawn up.

He now owned the Bradford.

One of his mother’s assistants, Carly, gave him the tour.

“There are 44 units, mostly one-bedroom, the rest studios.” She showed him the floor plans with detailed square footage info for each room.

“Washers and dryers in the basement. Along with two smaller studios.” Jimmy looked at her curiously, but didn’t say anything. He wondered, though, how anyone could possibly be this interested in a building.

“Your apartment is on the top floor, of course.”

“I see, Ms. Carly.”

“Your renters are mostly kids in their 20s, early 30s. Just out of school, a lot of them starting their first jobs. Which means a lot of turnover. They’re young, don’t have strong ties to the neighborhood, to their jobs, to Seattle.”

“Hmm.” Jimmy was thinking about what it would be like to fuck Carly. As he thought the same thing about most females he came in contact with. That she was in her late 50s made not the slightest difference to him.

“So with all the turnover, an important part of your ownership responsibility will be to screen new applicants closely. They’re young and haven’t developed conscientious financial habits.”

The mostly one-sided conversation droned on and on. Jimmy half listened, but he absorbed 100% of the monologue. Not that he would put the advice into action. That was something else indeed.

Jimmy’s mother and grandmother stopped by to see Jimmy a few months after he had moved in. He loved them both, but didn’t go through any special effort to see them.

He answered their knock in the nude, no surprise there. But, since it had been a while, both Glory and Gwen were momentarily startled at the remarkable girth of his penis. Was it possible it had become even fatter? He was, Glory thought, still a growing boy.

The tour of his one-bedroom apartment didn’t take long. The furniture consisted of one item -- a new mattress. Glory said, “Sorry, baby, I didn’t think to furnish it. I’ll have Ashley take care of it.”

Gwen closing the door on the empty refrigerator said, “Have her stock up on food too.”

Because Gwen had never been to the Bradford, Glory said, “Give us the tour, honey.”

Neither woman was surprised that Jimmy didn’t bother to dress. Two boys in their 20s were waiting by the elevator. “Hi Jimmy.” “Hi Jimmy.”

Jimmy, always polite, introduced his tenants formally, “This is my grandmother, Ms. Gwendolyn Fowler, my mother, Ms. Glory Fowler.” “And this is Mr. William Rice, Mr. Richard Wallingford.”

Jimmy never forgot a name. Billy and Richie were used to Jimmy’s old fashioned speech patterns and smiled at the two stunning women.

As they toured the building, Jimmy introduced his mother and grandmother to three other renters, two young women in their 20s and one in her early 30s.

None seemed the least surprised nor off by Jimmy’s nakedness. In fact, the three women had tried to be surreptitious as they fondly checked the boy out. As had Richie in the elevator.

As he saw Glory and Gwen off, he hugged them on the front stoop. A mailman and two dog walkers waved cheerfully and called out, “Hi Jimmy.”

Driving to their next appointment, Glory’s only comment on her son was to call one of her assistants, “Ashley, I fucked up. Forgot to furnish Jimmy’s place.” “Thank you. Food too. And booze, I don’t know what he drinks, just get a lot of everything.”

Gwen murmured and Glory said, “Dope too. I imagine he smokes.”

Jimmy first became aware that the Bradford could become his sexual playground when he started screening applicants for Apartment 4 B.

He had already decided to accept women, and only women, as each vacancy came up. He would let Mr. Richard Wallingford stay as long as he wanted. Mr. Wallingford, engaged to his high school sweetheart, sucked Jimmy’s cock as often as Jimmy would let him.

The third applicant for 4 B, Mary Astor, added some texture to Jimmy’s screening procedures.

Mary Astor, Ms. Astor to Jimmy, was a blonde knockout. Shy, she was completely stunned when the beautiful boy opened the door to his street level office stark fucking naked.

Mary’s 7-year old daughter stared. Her first naked man.

Jimmy didn’t explain his nudity, he never did.

Mary took a breath, “You don’t have any clothes on!”

Jimmy agreed, “No ma’am.”

“I’m ... we’re ... um, I need a place to live. We need a place.”

Jimmy, imminently curious about people smiled and gestured to two guest chairs, “Tell me about it, Ms. Astor.”

As she talked, making excuses for her life, Mary gradually unclenched. At least he was seated behind a desk. My god, that was the fattest... “Look, Mr. Fowler, I got laid off. So I don’t have a deposit, but I’ll get that to you as soon as I catch on somewhere. Which will be right away, I’m sure. You can trust me, I have a good reference. Here.”

She thrust a letter to him. Which he didn’t read, he didn’t read the application forms, the financial background checks, the credit ratings. Jimmy accepted applicants based on his gut.

Probably as good a way as any.

Mary’s daughter Penny was vaguely disappointed that Jimmy was sitting down. Would she have a story to tell her friends!

Jimmy smiled kindly at Ms. Mary Astor.

She said, “How much is the rent? For a studio? The smallest one you have.”

“Oh ... it varies Ms. Astor. What did you have in mind?”

“Um, I’m not sure.”

“There’s one studio available, let’s check it out.”

As they rode up in the elevator, Penny stared straight at Jimmy. Mary tried not to.

He unlocked the door to 4 B with his master key and stepped back to let them in first. For a studio, it was large. Just over 700 square feet. New kitchen and bath. A solarium leading to a balcony. An alcove large enough to easily accommodate a queen sized bed. New hardwood flooring throughout. Well, the kitchen and bath had tile floors. The kitchen a handsome black marble counter that served as a pass-through.

Mary devoured the place with her eyes.

There was a knock at the open front door, “Jimmy?”

“Come in, Ms. Reynolds.”

A 34-year old brunette, a smile that lit up the room, came in. “Jimmy, I’m afraid, I clogged that fucking toilet again. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He punched a single digit on his cell and said, “Mr. Carl. 6 D. Toilet problem. Thank you so much.”

Mary felt dizzy. This glorious apartment. This strangely old fashioned boy. That ... that ... cock! To which this Ms. Reynolds just gave a friendly squeeze! WTF!

As she was leaving Ms. Reynolds touched Penny softly on the cheek and said, “Beautiful.” She smiled at Mary and said, “Take it. Best landlord ever.”

“I love it. But I don’t think I can afford it. Got laid off 10 months ago.” Shit! She hadn’t meant to let him know how long she’d been out of work. Shit!

Ms. Reynolds led Mary out into the hall. “Look, kid. Jimmy won’t ask for it, he never does. But he’s a pussy hound. Already graduated college. Fuck him and he’ll give you a break on the rent. I’m almost positive. He’s screwing two other girls that I know about.”

Ms. Mary Astor was stunned for the second time that morning. And insulted.

Left alone with Penny, Jimmy relaxed, leaning back against the marble countertop. He didn’t try to make small talk, he never did. He appreciated the way Penny stared openly at his cock. he felt the familiar stirring to life.

When Ms. Mary Astor returned, she was stunned for the third time. In front of her fucking daughter! Fucking pervert!

She grabbed Penny’s wrist and fled, “I can’t afford it.”

Jimmy took the elevator up and knocked at 7 C. Smiling, Mr. Richard Wallingford welcomed Jimmy and sucked him off.

The next morning, first thing, Mary Astor knocked at Jimmy’s office door. “Come in, Ms. Astor.”

She had left her daughter at home. She was prepared for his nakedness this time. She had steeled herself to make the hard choice.

“Look. I’m in a real bind. Four places turned me down yesterday. I have to be out of my place tomorrow. That other girl...”

“Ms. Reynolds.”

“Ms. Reynolds told me that you like ... that you...” Blushing, she blurted out, “You like pussy. And maybe could give me a break on the rent.”

Jimmy’s cock again sprang to action. He liked three things about Ms. Mary Astor. She was attractive. Although he preferred taller women like his mother and grandmother, this one was perfectly acceptable anyway.

Jimmy found, to his surprise, that Mary’s vulnerability, her raw financial need, was an intense turn on.

Finally, Penny. He had enjoyed her innocent, open curiosity.

He would think about Penny in the future. For now he turned his attention to Mary. He stood and she stared. Erect. Again.

He took her hand gently and led her to the elevator, “With Ms. Penelope, you need a one-bedroom, not a studio. Let’s check out 3 A.”


“Don’t worry about the money, Ms. Astor. I’ll work that out.”

Mary had loved the studio. Her eyes teared up at this new place. It was perfect. She could put Penny’s bed in the solarium. Or maybe the dining room.

Jimmy, nude and erect, opened two wide closet doors. He smiled kindly and pulled down a comfortable looking Murphy bed. He said, “This building was erected back when people still had servants. But I think it could do for Ms. Penelope.”

Mary threw her arms around him, whispered, “It’s perfect. But...”

Jimmy stepped back, still smiling, “Don’t worry about the rent, I’ll work that out. Now, do you have a mover lined up?”

“But...” she nodded at his erection, a question on her face.

“All in good time. Let’s go back to the office, Ms. Astor.”

Jimmy dialed a small safe open and handed Ms. Mary Astor a pile of bills without counting them. “For the movers.”


“See you tomorrow.”

As he did with his guests, Jimmy escorted her to the stoop where two passersby waved and said, “Hi Jimmy.”

He closed the door to his office and went two doors down. Knocked. “Hi Jimmy, come in!”

“Good morning, Ms. Jenkins.”

“BJ or pussy?”

Mary Astor, two movers and three friends, got her moved into the Bradford in under an hour. She and Penny spent the rest of the day unpacking and rearranging. Then rearranging some more. The Bradford was the nicest place they’d ever lived.

Mary was, consciously, waiting for a knock on the door. Jimmy. Who would be expecting, and rightly so, some pussy.

The knock never came.

So Sunday morning, freshly showered, newly scented, scanty panties, her one good dress, Mary gathered her courage and knocked on his apartment door. 7 A. Jimmy, smiling nude, soft, welcomed her.

Sudden stop. Two naked girls were there!

“Sorry! Didn’t realize you had company. I’ll just...”

One of the girls, tall like Jimmy liked, a natural redhead, called out, “Don’t be silly, we’re just starting breakfast. Come join us.”

The other girl, a busty brunette, said, “Jimmy would starve to death if his girls didn’t cook for him. I’m...”

Jimmy stepped in and made his usual courtly introductions. Mary didn’t remember either girl’s name, although she would later come to know them. The Bradford was unlike any building she’d known.

The two women, knowing where the aprons were, donned them and began laying out pans, food, plates.

Mary thrust $900 toward Jimmy, “Left over from the move. Thank you so much.”

Jimmy gently pushed her hand back, “Don’t be silly, Ms. Astor. Now go bring Ms. Penelope up for breakfast. You haven’t eaten, have you?”

She glanced down at his penis, “No ... but ... I mean...”

Jimmy just smiled fondly at her.

As she brought Penny back up, Mary’s brain was racing. This Jimmy, this naked Jimmy, definitely wanted Penny to come for breakfast. What did that mean? What the fuck did it mean?’

Jimmy took the smiling girl’s hand and led her back to the kitchen, “Ms. Penelope Astor, may I present...”

Jimmy spent very little time in his office. He had hired a high school girl to come by in the afternoon and do the paperwork for him. Sylvie was 15, fairly homely, skinny, bucktoothed. But a whiz with leases, maintenance forms, utility bills the usual bumf that went with maintaining any commercial building.

Sylvie fucked like a bunny rabbit. As did her mother, Sophia, although Sophia wasn’t on the payroll.

It had been over three weeks since Mary had moved into the Bradford and she had never gotten Jimmy alone. By now she realized that Ms. Reynolds had been cheerfully fibbing when she told Mary that she knew of two other girls Jimmy was fucking.

It was more like who wasn’t he fucking? Besides Mary Astor. And Penny. No, don’t go there.

One Saturday morning, Jimmy answered her knock, nude as usual. And erect which wasn’t that unusual. But there was also a naked guy, not a girl or two.

Jimmy said, “Ms. Mary Astor, you remember Mr. Richard Wallingford. Please, come in.”


“We’re just finishing up, have a seat.”

Mary stared as Jimmy nonchalantly stood in front of Richie who hungrily took that fat cock into his mouth.

Jimmy smiled at Mary, “How is Ms. Penelope settling in? She’s an energetic girl.”

Penny? Energetic? WTF?

Jimmy had gotten Mary a job at one of his grandmother’s smaller firms. It paid well for a beginner and Mary was working toward earning a real estate license.

Even though she had a regular paycheck, Jimmy had not said anything about rent. Nor a deposit.

Mary was still staring as Jimmy sighed and spurted. Richie, his hands firmly on Jimmy’s butt, sucked harder. After he finished licking the head, Richie stood.

Jimmy smiled, “Thank you, Mr. Wallingford. Enjoyable as always.”

Richie said goodbye to them and casually strolled down the hall to his studio. Mary looked around, didn’t see any clothes. Had Richie come here naked? Must have. My god, had she moved into a loony bin. Or a paradise? Probably somewhere in between.

“I thought he was engaged?”

“He is, Ms. Astor. Moving out next month.”

“Never mind. About the rent. I can...”

Jimmy held up his hand, that angelic smile still on his face. “Let’s wait until you’re back on your feet. Have your license. Now listen,” he gestured toward his cock, now softening. “My grandmother thinks I should get waxed. What about it?”

“Your grandmother!”

“Yep. Ms. Glory agrees with Miss Gwendolyn, they usually agree with each other.”


“Ms. Glory Fowler. Mother.”

“Your mother!”

Loony bin. Definitely a loony bin. Yet Mary heard herself saying, “I wax two of my girlfriends.”

“Excellent. Let’s go. That is if you’re volunteering, Ms. Astor.” He headed for the door.

“But wait! Penny’s home.”

“Good. I like Ms. Penelope. Very energetic.”

In the elevator, Mary caught herself nodding her head. Loony bin.

When she opened the door to 3 A, Penny squealed, “Mr. Jimmy!” She ran to hug him.


Penny started immediately, obviously following up on a previous conversation, “So I told Ms. Becky to kiss my ass...”


Penny, “You were right, Mr. Jimmy, Ms. Becky’s just a dumb cunt.”

Mary sat down. Aghast.

She would learn, later after Jimmy had left, that her daughter sought him out when she got home from school. If he weren’t in his office, she rode up and knocked at his apartment.

Mary, “Does he touch you? Anywhere?”

Penny, “Nope.”

“Does he put your hand ... do you touch him? Anywhere?”

“No, Mom. I’m too young for any of that. Way too young.”

“You certainly are, young lady. Does Jimmy agree with you?”

“He’s the one who told me that.”


As Mary began the waxing process, she found herself feeling ... what? Sanguine. About her daughter’s insistence on watching. She sees Jimmy naked, apparently almost every day, so ... okay.

And even when she felt Jimmy’s cock start to throb its way erect, it didn’t worry Mary much. She and Penny, along with everyone else who lived in the building saw Jimmy naked. And often with a hard-on.

Besides, she herself was here. It wasn’t like Penny was alone with him.

Jimmy didn’t comment on his erection. He never did. He was more comfortable in his own skin than anyone Mary had ever known.

Penny giggled.

Waxing completed, Mary offered her shower to Jimmy. She didn’t object when Penny joined her in toweling the truly beautiful 16-year old boy off. Then Mary told her daughter, “I’m going to walk Jimmy home. Slaughter a pig for dinner, will you?”

Staring at Jimmy’s erection, Penny giggled.

Once he was fucking her -- finally! -- Mary learned that the other girls had been right about Jimmy. He really was something in the sack. That fat cock helped, the fattest Mary had ever seen. But more, Jimmy became attuned to her body, her rhythms, her needs.

She soon voted him Number One when it came to Clit Attention. Then stopped thinking about anything. She was just feeling. And loving it.

From then on, Mary went out of her way to be available. Part of it was living rent free, no utilities even. But more of it was she simply loved fucking the beautiful boy.

A couple of months later when she reached for him, he said, “Let’s go down to your place, Ms. Astor.”

“But Penny is...” Gulp. “Okay, Jimmy.”

Weeks later, her daughter’s presence in the most intimate of moments was just ... well, what the fuck was it? It was what the fuck Jimmy wanted, that was what it was.

Mary and Penny Astor had been Jimmy’s first. The first to meet his new criteria of mother vulnerability and child availability.

Mary had asked him, “You’re not thinking about fucking Penny, are you? I mean not for a while. A long, long while.”

“Not for a while, Ms. Astor.”

Jimmy Fowler now rented to slightly older women than the renters he had inherited. Older women with children. As vacancies occurred, he eliminated the studio apartments between the one-bedroom apartments. The one-bedroom apartments were remodeled into two-bedroom units. Each with a Murphy bed.

Instead of six apartments to a floor, there were now four.

The latest women renters were mostly in their 20s and 30s, a few in their early 40s. Minimum of one child. Boys just as welcome as girls. But two kids were preferable, three even better.

These particular women were on their way down the economic ladder. Not up like most of Jimmy’s younger renters had been. Divorce. Job loss. Gambling problem. Credit cards. Unlucky in love. Drugs. A lot of them had drug problems.

The more vulnerable the women were, the more likely Jimmy was to accept them.

He would say, “Financial setbacks happen. I understand. I try to help with a flexible rent schedule.”

Depending on how dire the circumstances, Jimmy might say, “Okay. No deposit. You can have 1 D for $200 a month, Ms. McGuire.”

“$200! God bless you sir!”

“That’s for a year. Then we’ll see how you and young Mr. Alvin are doing.”

By the time Mary Astor had lived at the Bradford for five months, she joined the other girls in educating the newcomers. “Jimmy won’t ask for pussy, that’s not his way. But a word to the wise...”

These older women had been around. Weren’t shocked, weren’t even surprised. They’d stopped reading the menu, searching for a free lunch, long ago.

A few were surprised, but not that much, when Jimmy began complimenting their children. To avoid anything to do with their children, a couple of women moved back in with their parents -- how humiliating at 44! -- but most didn’t.

As he honed his approach, Jimmy stopped making his standard explanation. He found it faster and more effective to have one of his veteran renters explain the Bedford facts of life to the newbies.

Mary Astor was especially successful because Penny was so young. She let the applicants, now all mothers, assume that Jimmy was fucking her daughter. The other mothers, for the most part, had children older than Penny.

The initial meeting, though, was with Jimmy. He enjoyed seeing the shocked expressions on the faces of the mothers and their kids when he welcomed them in the nude. He was naturally curious and studied their reactions.

He now had his high school assistant, Sylvie, sit in on those sessions. Her part of the conversation was entirely financial. Sylvie took notes that she would give to Mary, or whoever would carry out the next phase of the application process.

It was usually Mary who had become skilled at measuring vulnerability. Need. And skilled at evaluating how far each mother could be pushed. How long it would take for Jimmy to start nailing her kids.

Mary talked frequently with the other five women in Jimmy’s inner circle. The abettors, the enablers. All six women worked with a single-minded focus to actively provide Jimmy with all the pussy they could manipulate into capitulation. The inner circle called itself The Six.

The mothers who applied for an apartment in the Bedford? They were easy. The Six often had one applicant or another fuck Jimmy before they were even accepted. To be fair, The Six did that only with mothers they were sure Jimmy would allow to move into the Bradford.

Then Jimmy, pleased with the process, pleased with the new renters, stopped interviewing applicants at all. He let The Six decide.

Once in a while Jimmy’s mother, Glory, remembered she had a son and stopped by to visit him. As did his grandmother, Gwendolyn. Once they understood his game plan -- pussy over profit -- they let it go.

In fact, Gwen had one of her personal attorneys draw up a unique rental agreement that would protect her son from a lot of potential legal problems. There was no signed lease as such. Jimmy could evict anyone any time.

Glory explained it to him, “Say one of your mothers won’t let you fuck her kid. Bye-Bye.”

Jimmy smiled.

Gwen said, “Each renter has to sign this agreement though. It says, in legalese, that she is your pussy. Her kids are your pussy. She is voluntarily so declaring.”

Jimmy smiled.

The carefully constructed wording, only an attorney could conceive of such a cruel, one-sided document, obligated the renter and her children while eliminating most of Jimmy’s liabilities.

No one refused to sign the contract, which Sylvie duly notarized. The renters were too poor, too desperate, too scared. They would have signed anything for a warm, safe, place to sleep.

Not that Glory and Gwen were heartless. Indeed, they provided jobs for Mary Astor and other indigent mothers from time to time. But as long as Jimmy was using the Bradford as his personal hunting grounds, they’d help him however they could.

Bonnie Simmons was a mother, one who was becoming a typical renter in the Bradford. Bonnie was 42, dark hair, slender but, thanks to implants back when she was still married, big boobs.

A country girl, trying to act city. Hard brown eyes that tried, and failed, to look shrewd. Bonnie wasn’t dumb, she just wasn’t as bright as the crowd she used to run with.

Bonnie was financially vulnerable, point number one in her favor. No savings, none. Credit card bills, she’d been buying groceries on time. Laid off from the carpet factory. Unemployment insurance had run out.

Number two. Kids. Bonnie had a 14-year old, mostly out of control, daughter. But The Six, were more interested in her younger brother. Cute kid. Shy. Not much in the way of self-confidence.

Bonnie wasn’t exactly indifferent to her kids. Neither was she Mother of the Year.

Mary Astor looked again at the financials Sylvie had given her. She studied Bonnie Simmons. Hard eyes, looking not so hard. A hint of desperation.

Mary tapped the financials, “Jimmy has a soft spot for people down on their luck. Too soft sometimes.”

Mary decided to be blunt with Bonnie. Her judgement was usually spot on. “Look, Jimmy relies on me. And five other girls he trusts. Trusts our judgement. We decide who moves in, who gets the financial help, who Jimmy subsidizes until you get back on your feet.”

“I see.”

Mary looked directly at Bonnie. “Jimmy likes pussy.”

Silence. Then, “Okay.”

“If I told you to, would you go fuck him now?”

No hesitation, “Yes. Of course.” She nodded at the folder, “You can see. I don’t have any choice. I’ll be selling it on the street next.”

Mary’s features didn’t soften, “It may come to that, Bonnie. But it doesn’t have to. Jimmy likes cute little boys too.”

Bonnie blinked in surprise. “Bobby’s a virgin. Everywhere.”

Mary sat calmly. She had learned the value of silence.

Bonnie said, “What ... I mean ... if ... shit.” Then, “What about Brenda? She’s no virgin.”

Mary shrugged, “He might do her. Depends. But Bobby’s the key.”

Long, long silence. Mary waited patiently.

Big sigh. Then Bonnie said, “Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“He can fuck him. Bobby.”


“I don’t have any choice, do I?”


“I’m sure.”

Mary said, “Sign here. Rent-free two bedroom for a year. It’s 5 D.” She handed the folder to Sylvie. Turned to Bonnie, “Give me your credit cards, all five.”

Bonnie, bereft of willpower, handed them over.

Mary gave them to Sylvie, “Pay them off, cut ‘em up. Give Bonnie $2,000. Set up the movers.”

Bonnie said, “My god! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

“What about ... what about Bobby?”

“Take a couple of weeks to get settled in. Talk with your son. Make sure he understands exactly what’s going to happen to him.”


“When Bobby has his mind around it, schedule an appointment through Sylvie. She’s here after school lets out. She keeps Jimmy’s appointment book.”


“Do you know how to clean Bobby out? Get him ready to be fucked?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Good. And take Bobby up to Jimmy’s when it’s time. Jimmy likes the mothers to watch.”

By now, now that Mary had hit her rhythm, Bonnie was agreeing to everything.

When Bonnie left, she hugged Mary and whispered, “Thank you.”

That too, wasn’t unprecedented.

Mary Astor, even though she was the youngest member of The Six, had evolved into its de facto leader.

And she had also lost all shyness in asking Jimmy to fuck her. When he opened his door one Sunday morning, she said, “Hi baby. Want some Sunday pussy? Or just a BJ?”

Then, scarlet face. Two women were sitting there.

Jimmy, courtly as ever, “Ms. Mary Astor of course you remember Ms. Gwendolyn Astor, my grandmother, and Ms. Glory Astor, my mother.”

“I am so sorry! I didn’t think ... didn’t see you ... I...”

Gwen, with a polite brusqueness, said, “Don’t be silly, Mary. Glory and I aren’t acolyte nuns.”

Just then, Penny knocked on Jimmy’s door.

“Ms. Penelope Astor, may I present...”

Glory wondered if her son were fucking Penny yet. Decided, probably not. Then, looked again at the naked little girl, maybe.

Jimmy said, “Ms. Mary has been kind enough to wax me on a regular basis.”

Penny giggled.

Glory smiled at the little girl, “Do you help your mother, dear?”

“No. I guess...”

“Yes, you should do, honey. Here, feel how smooth it is. Your mother is doing a superb job.”

Glory guided the small hand over the freshly waxed area. Speaking as calmly as if she were describing a television program, Glory said, “The secret is to make the part you’re feeling as smooth as this.”

She slid her own hand along her son’s penis, causing an immediate reaction.

Mary stared, transfixed.

Glory winked at Penny and slid her little hand along the same path, “Feel how silky smooth it is?”

Penny nodded eagerly. While she giggled.

Mary felt like she was paralyzed.

Gwen glanced at her watch. Time to head for their next appointment. Sunday was always a busy day.

Glory hugged Jimmy, then Gwen did. Both women were so classy, so gracious in their farewells to Mary and Penny.

As always, Jimmy escorted them out to the front stoop. A couple of church- bound pedestrians called out, “Hi Jimmy.”

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