House Rules Ch. 01

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I had been looking for a room to rent for a few weeks. My current situation had changed and I needed to find a new place and fast.

One day, as I was reading the notices on the bulletin board in a local coffee shop, a man walked up behind me and said, “You lookin’ for a place?”

I turned to see an African American man in his 40’s.

He was good looking, I guess. From his build I figured he worked out and he was nicely dressed. His eyes locked onto mine, he smiled and said, “Well then this just might be your lucky day.”

He introduced himself as Mr. Clemons. No first name.

I introduced myself as Ozzie. No last name.

Yeah. Ozzie. I know. I’ve heard all the jokes, believe me.

We ordered coffees. He paid for mine. I tried to protest but he insisted. We sat down, drank our coffees and chatted about the room he had to rent in his house. The rent was low, suspiciously so, and I asked about it.

He explained it was a small, very simple room. No frills or thrills.

I told him I didn’t need frills or thrills.

We talked a little more. At one point I spilled a drop of coffee onto my chin. Mr. Clemons was quick to react and wiped my chin with a napkin. It surprised me and all I could do was stammer a clumsy thank you.

We continued to talk about life and things.

Mostly though, Mr. Clemons wanted to talk about me. He had a lot of questions for me.

At first it was just the basic stuff like “Did I have a job?” and “Did I have a steady source of income?” and things like that.

The answer to both questions was ‘Yes.”

He asked if I had a car. I said I did.

As he went on though, his questions got a lot deeper.

He asked me about my family.

I told him I didn’t have any brothers and sisters and the nearest family, as far as I knew, was on the other side of the country. We never spoke and had no plans to.

He sipped his coffee and listened to every word.

Then he asked, “How about a mommy or daddy?”

“Seriously, Dude? A mommy or daddy?” I thought to myself, “I’m not five years old.”

I took a breath and told him I hadn’t seen my MOTHER since I was 18. That would have been around the time of her fourth marriage since my FATHER had left us high and dry when I was a baby.

He got a concerned look on his face and put his hand on mine. I don’t know why but I kept my hand under his.

I was amazed that his hand was so big I couldn’t see my own. I finally slipped it out from his and put my hands in my lap.

“That’s terrible,” he said with a genuine tone of sympathy in his voice, “No boy should have to grow up without a daddy.”

“Well, I’m 20 and haven’t needed a DADDY in a long time,” I said, my chest puffed up a little.

“Nonsense,” he replied, “Every boy needs a daddy in their life. How else are they going to grow up to be a man? Who is going to show them those things only a daddy can teach them? Show them right from wrong?”

He took a sip of his coffee, peering at me over the rim of his mug.

He set his coffee down and said, “And discipline them when they’re naughty?”

Was this guy for real?

“I think I’ve done okay by myself,” I snapped back.

He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee.

“I didn’t mean to pry or to offend you, Ozzie. I just hate to hear about boys growing up without daddies.”

He must have read my mind by studying the expression of disgust on my face because he added, “Or mommies.”

“I’m on my own,” I said, hoping this would be the end of the mommy and daddy discussion.

“Girlfriend?” he asked.

Still pouting, I sipped my coffee.

I shook my head ‘no.’


“I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m not-“

He waited, grinning, and then sipped his coffee.

“I’m not…I don’t have a boyfriend or girlfriend. I’m by myself right now.”

It was true. I hadn’t been with anyone in over two years. Maybe it was me but every date turned into a one time only thing. I couldn’t find the right person and after a while just gave up.

I was okay being alone. It’ s amazing what you can get used to, I guess.

“You’re truly alone,” he said with casino siteleri a real look of sadness in his eyes.

I sat silently for a minute.

Then out of the blue, Mr. Clemons asked, “Are you a surfer or a skateboarder?”

The question took me by surprise.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“The long hair, the slender build,” he said with a smile, “You remind me of those boys who skateboard…or surf.”

I told him I had skateboarded when I was about 12 but had never surfed.

It knew what he was saying though and understood the question. I had a slender, lean build like those guys who surfed or skateboarded.

Ir wasn’t for the lack of trying. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t put on any real muscle.

And my hair? All I can say is, haircuts were the last thing on my mind these days and the fact my dirt blonde hair was down to my shoulders didn’t bother me.

If he was bothered by my long hair, I would just get up, thank him for the coffee and head out the door and on down the road.

“You look younger than 20,” he said.

“Do I?” I replied.

“No judgement. Just an observation.”

It was true. I had a baby face and my scraggly little mustache and goatee looked more like I had been drinking chocolate milk than attempting to grow facial hair.

“Do you mind if I ask how tall you are? How much you weigh?” he said raising his coffee cup to his mouth.

What the Hell?

“Why do you need to know that to rent me a room?”

“We’re just talking, Ozzie. I’m deciding if I want to invite you into my home. I’m trying to figure out what kind of person you are.”

“Well, I’m not a serial killer, if that’s what you mean.”

He laughed. Then I laughed.

Tensions eased after that. I told I was almost 5’7 and weighed about 134 pounds.

It was then Mr. Clemons said he was part owner in a gym and if I wanted to change my body he could be of assistance to me. He had worked with young guys like myself and achieved remarkable results.

Total transformations, he said.

I looked at him. For a man in his 40’s, Mr. Clemons was in great shape. He had broad shoulders and his bicep flexed every time he lifted his coffee cup. His head was clean shaven but he had a full, close cropped beard. He looked like he had played football and when I asked he told me he had about a hundred years ago.

If anyone could help me workout and change my body, it would be Mr. Clemons.

He added that knew all the latest workout techniques and had several diets he could recommend which would compliment my workout routine. There’d be no charge for those services. He just liked to share his wealth of knowledge.

He also mentioned he had a lap pool and it would be mine to use any time I wanted as a tenant.

He asked me if I thought the rent was something I could handle and I said I was looking for a second job but securing a place to live had to come first.

He smiled and said, “What if I lowered the rent to something you could afford. By, let’s say, $125 a month?”

My jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

“Whose cock did I have to suck to get that deal? I thought to myself.

“I’m not the best housekeeper or cook. Never have been. If you were to say do some light housework like dusting and vacuuming, maybe make a dinner every now and then, some laundry, keep the pool clean…”

He was asking me to be his houseboy? Seriously? A $125 dollars reduction in rent? I couldn’t pass that up.

“I could do that” I replied.

Mr. Clemons stood. He offered me his strong hand and smiled.

“Then the room is yours, if you want it,” he said.

And that was it! I had a place to live.

Our coffees had cooled and we tossed the cups into the trash as we walked outside.

Mr. Clemons gave me the address and told me to come by any time I wanted. I could even follow him back to the house if I wanted.

I told him I didn’t all of the deposit at the moment and he said I could pay him the deposit and first month’s rent in a couple of days if that’d work better for me.

He suggested I take a look at the house, at the room and then take my time to decide. There was no pressure at all. He shook my hand slot oyna again and said goodbye.

I watched as he walked to his truck.

From the back, Mr. Clemons looked even bigger. His broad shoulders and upper body tapered to a narrow waist. He big, thick legs and his jeans stretched across his tight ass.

I looked up after a second or two and saw that he was looking over his shoulder. Mr. Clemons had caught me staring at him. At his ass. He just smiled though.

When he pulled out of the parking space and passed me, he winked at me.

“See you at home,” he said.

I watched him drive away. The personalized plated on his truck said DDYBEAR.

I followed Mr. Clemons to an upscale neighborhood. When we pulled into his driveway I surprised to see a large house. I think it was what they called a Victorian. The yard was manicured. There was a two car garage and I could see the privacy fence around what I figured was the pool.

We walked into the house and went up the stairs to the second floor.

He opened a door and we walked into a small bedroom. It was bigger than where I was staying at present and it would meet my needs.

As he had said, the room was plain and simply decorated.

There was a single bed, a dresser and a small closet. There was a chair by the window. And that was it! There was no television. If I wanted to watch TV, Mr. Clemons explained, I’d have to sit in the den.

There was a bathroom two doors down with a shower and large clawfoot tub.

Mr. Clemons, whose bedroom was at the end of the hall, had his own private bath.

He told me I would be responsible for keeping my bathroom clean. He didn’t like mess. Wet towels were to be hung up, he told me, and blah blah blah and this and that and blah blah blah. He went on and on about what he expected from me as a tenant.

I think he sensed I wasn’t really listening and shot me a stern look. I stood a little straighter and focused my eyes on him.

He asked if I liked the room and I said I did.

He told the correct way to answer would be to ‘Yes sir. I like the room.”

I changed my tone and answered “Yes sir, I like the room.”

“Good,” he said directing me back downstairs, “Let’s talk.”

Mr. Clemons led me into the living room and we sat down. He chose a well-worn leather recliner and I sat on the couch.

He told me to sit up straight and not slouch and for some reason I listened and adjusted the way I was sitting.

He looked right at me and said, “Before we make this final, I want you to know there are some house rules.”

“House rules,” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, “And don’t interrupt an adult when they’re talking.

An adult? I was 20. I was an adult. I was a little offended and shocked he was talking to me like I was six years old.

He continued, “There are some rules you will have to agree to before I hand you the keys.”

I made sure he was finished before saying, “Yes Sir. I understand.”

He continued, “First there will be no loud music. There will be no food in your room. There is a kitchen and a dining room. If you’re going to eat, those are the only acceptable places to do so.”

He leaned forward a little and asked, “Clear so far?”

I answered immediately, afraid of getting scolded again, “Yes Sir. Crystal clear.

Mr. Clemons continued, “There will be no parties and no overnight sleepovers.”

Sleepovers? Did he think I was a 14 year old girl?

He said my bathroom was to be kept clean.

I was also told I would be responsible for taking out the recycling and trash. He would give me the schedules for the pickups.

“Now Ozzie,” he said with a deep tone in his voice, “Any violation of any of these rules will result in appropriate and swift disciplinary action.

Disciplinary action? What? Like going to bed without my supper? A spanking?

I nodded that I understood but that wasn’t good enough for him. He glared at me.

“Yes Sir. Those terms are acceptable.”

“We’ve already talked about the housekeeping and cooking, and I will show where everything is and go into greater detail about what I expect from you. Sound good?”

“Yes Sir.” I said, “It sounds good.”

“Excellent!,” canlı casino siteleri he said as he slapped his thighs with his hands.

We stood and shook hands.

He pulled me to him and when his hand closed around mine, I became very aware of the physical differences between us.

It wasn’t just that he was black and I was white. It wasn’t because he seemed to tower over me. It was that his hand was so much bigger and stronger than mine. Mine seemed frail and delicate compared to his rough and calloused hands.

He held me locked in his grip for a second after we shook and he smiled down at me.

“Welcome home,” he said.

Then he released my hand.

All I could do was say thank you and hope that the blood would start flowing in my fingers again some time soon.

For the next hour I moved in my boxes of clothes and junk. I didn’t have a lot stuff and it didn’t take long.

I finally collapsed onto the bed, my bed, and stared at the ceiling.

Then I suddenly remembered one more thing I needed to get from my car. I ran downstairs.

I heard Mr. Clemons voice from somewhere in the back of the house.

“No running!” he shouted.

It startled me and I slowed to a walk. I went out to the garage and to my car. I grabbed a small suitcase and went back to the front door.

Finally done unloading the car! All I had to do was unpack and get settled. If I played my cards right there would still be time for a swim.

When I opened the front door, I was greeted by Mr. Clemons who was holding two glasses of lemonade.

He handed me one and put his hand on my back and led me back inside.

“Almost done?”

“This is the last thing,” I said lifting the small suitcase.

“Well, off you go! There may still be time for a swim!” He put his hand on my back and led me to the base of the three step landing.

“My thoughts exactly,” I said under my breath.

Just before I turned to climb the stairs, Mr. Clemons’ hand slid down my back and rested for a second on my right butt cheek. He gave me a little spank and said, “Off with you now! Don’t dawdle! Get yourself settled!”

I went upstairs excited about having a place to stay and the idea of having my own pool to use whenever I wanted.

I got most of my clothes put away in the dresser. I hung my shirts and my one jacket in the closet. I put my two pairs of shoes on a shelf in the closet.

Mr. Clemons had supplied some sheets, pillow cases and a blanket. He had also made the bed for me.

The bed set was a faded red, or pink. I thought I saw a faint pattern of little hearts. They were silky smooth and felt incredible. I didn’t really care what they looked like.

I stacked the broken down boxes in one corner and told myself I was settled enough. I could finish tomorrow. I wanted to get in that pool.

I searched for my bathing suit, found it and put it on.

I stopped before heading downstairs. I turned in the doorway and looked at my room. MY very own room. I liked that.

“This was going to be good,” I heard a voice in the back of my mind say.

Part of my brain, though, was still trying to process what had happened at the bottom of the stairs. Another voice chimed in.

“Did Mr. Clemons just spank my ass? Was that his way of flirting with me? Was Mr. Clemons gay? Did he think I was gay? Am I crazy or did that little spank make my heart skip a beat?”

Then the first voice asked, “What have we gotten ourselves into?

I would soon learn those answers would come over the course of the next couple of weeks.

I walked through the house and out to the pool. The sun was setting but the water felt incredible. I stepped in and let myself float. I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of crickets chirping and lawn sprinklers.

I sighed, smiling under summer stars.

The pool lights came on.

“Feels great, doesn’t it?” I heard a voice say.

I turned to see Mr. Clemons stretched out on a lounge chair. He was shirtless and holding a beer.

“It does. Feels incredible. Why don’t you come in?” I asked.

“Oh I’m fine right where I am. Trust me. You just enjoy.”

He sipped his beer, never taking his eyes off of me. He smiled at me with that million dollar smile and added, “I’m perfectly fine just watching you.”

I smiled back and then closed my eyes. My mind was racing.

Somewhere crickets started chirping louder.

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