It was time for a change. Time to move out of the city, somewhere with a bit of space. Somewhere I could take stock after the latest heartache. Suzi had lasted a year, almost, until she got too much. Wanting to move in, change things. I don't like other people changing things.
I found the perfect place within a month: a detached house on the edge of town, separate garage, standing apart from it neighbours. The garage had a flat above it, with a tenant. Not a problem; a short visit revealed a quiet young woman, nicely if conservatively dressed. She was even reading a book when I knocked on the door. The old couple I was buying from insisted she should have six months' security. Didn't look as if it would be a problem.
Moving day went smoothly. I could see my new tenant watching from her window. When my new gym equipment was moved into the garage she had a nose around, but I didn't interfere. That first night I stood at my bedroom window and gazed across to the garage. Did she have a boyfriend? Girlfriend? She didn't seem to have a car, perhaps that's what kept her looking so fit. Beneath the frumpy clothes I had detected a slim, curvy figure. That night I inspected the gym, making sure the machines were installed properly and that all the rest of my .. equipment.. was undamaged. I unlocked the cabinet, touched the canes, floggers, belts hanging there. I picked up the leather slipper, flexed it a little. It was my favourite toy. I loved the sound it made when it came into contact with a pert, rounded, backside. And the effect it had. I found myself gazing at the door to the flat upstairs. This could be an issue: the noise of any games would carry upstairs. Could make things difficult between us.
The next day I was unpacking yet more boxes when a hesitant knock took me to the back door. My tenant was standing with a small basket with a cloth over it. Turned out to contain muffins, home baked. Had I moved to Little House on the Prairie? I made the right noises, and we had a pleasant chat. We spoke about the gym machines and Laura, as I now knew her, looked pleased at my invitation to use them whenever she wanted. I watched her head back to the garage, wondering what she'd look like in gym gear. Perhaps this would work out after all.
Next day I had to look in to the office. I was aware of Laura sitting at her desk at the window overlooking the driveway when I got into the car. As I drove I wondered if she'd have a session in the gym when I was away, and by the time I got to the office I'd decided it was to be a flying visit. I checked in, dealt with a couple of nearly urgent emails, then headed back, blaming a furniture delivery.
I didn't go into the house, but went straight to the gym. Laura had her back to me. The first thing I noticed was her superb figure - her gym gear emphasised her trim waist and every well-rounded curve - and the next was that she was trying the door of the cabinet. She looked embarrassed when I jangled my keys. I swung open the doors, watching her reaction as she saw what was inside. She looked shocked, then, after a longer time that I had expected, reddened and fled for her flat. Had she been shocked in a good way, or a bad way? The way she looked in lycra, I very much hoped it was the former. I decided to close the door but leave it unlocked, and see what happened next.
After a quick coffee, taken in the kitchen gazing towards the garage - should I go over? I headed back to the office. I focussed on clearing the dross out of my inbox and before I knew it the place was emptying as everyone made their way to the pub for the Friday swill. I declined, saying I wanted to get the house sorted. I sincerely hoped I'd be busy with something other than unpacking boxes as I made my way back to my new home.
When I pulled into the driveway I was aware of Laura's auburn hair at the window, bent over her laptop. She looked up and I gave her a smile and a wave. She waved back but didn't return the smile. My heart sank. She wasn't interested. Probably thought her new landlord was a creep. I dumped the case and my jacket inside, and on impulse headed over to the gym. All was quiet. Then I noticed one of the belts, a three-tongued tawse, draped over the end of the chaise. I picked it up, wondering just what had been going on, when I heard the door to the flat opening. I looked at Laura steadily. She was wearing old blue jeans and a t-shirt. Both were on the tight side. She looked fantastic. And very embarrassed.