“Clothes off now,” he said. “Could I at least use your bathroom while you look.”
He flashed a dirty smile at me, but I was in no mood to wait. Sex He moved forward approvingly, and I took as much of it as I could in my mouth. It still hurt, but it was bearable, and his hand firmly on my shoulder was starting to feel good. His hairy legs and chest, New York-Italian olive skin, paunchy stomach and receding hairline were all there to see. I could feel the weight of him holding me down, and I got even wetter. “Okay,” he said “you can do whatever you want now.”
“Does that mean I can terminate my lease?” I asked. So was my wallet. … If I said yes, I was consenting and had no recourse. He was sloppy with his work, and it was no different with his snooping. He responded by taking a step forward. He would come in and linger, touching things that he shouldn’t (like my box of tampons) and always asking inappropriate questions. If I said no, it was almost certain that he would rape me, then god-knows-what. He grabbed my hips and threw himself against me; I could feel my ass bruising with each thrust. “One night,” he said. I carefully made my way down the stairs, terrified
