The Landlady Novels & Stories

My phone dinged again from the anonymous number. “See you soon” “Aaron.” Way to forget about the stalker, I rolled my eyes. As much as I don’t want it my landlord is on my neck right now Don't have a choice, suddenly I feel like I’m being watched. My robe felt thin, my room felt smaller. “I am interested”, I typed back to the email. I got a reply almost immediately “Interview tomorrow by 10am, with the address attached” The address was what I thought, the Los Angeles Z mansion. Which is owned by ZAYDEN BLACKWELL., No wonder they asked for discretion.

“Ma’am, that’s not fair. It’s only been two months since I missed paying rent. Why are you kicking me out already? I told you I’ll pay, didn’t I?” “Well, well, listen to this! You’re the one who owes me money, yet you act so bold, as if you’re someone important!” I almost screamed when Aling Lena, the landlady of this so-called ‘apartment,’ threw a fragile mug at me. Thank goodness I managed to dodge it, otherwise, I’d be in the hospital next to Thirdy right now.

How was I supposed to look at those people after last night? My stomach twisted. A loud knock slammed against my door. I flinched. When I opened it, my landlady stood there, eyes blazing, lips curled in disgust. “You bitch,” she spat before I could even breathe. “You shameless, useless girl!” I blinked, stunned. The insults came like bullets. “You ran off from here just to go and sleep with your sister’s husband? Shame on you! God forbid!” My mouth parted. “How—?” But I stopped.

I was starting to like my new "home" I didn't wake every night, but whenever I did and couldn't get back to sleep, I would tiptoe to my landlady's room and fuck her. She was always welcoming and, even more delightful, she was usually wet. One night, though, after we had drunk 2 bottles of wine with dinner, I woke with a very stubborn erection. I padded down the hall and found her sleeping on her stomach, naked. I shook her shoulder but she didn't budge. I climbed on top of her naked body and rubbed my erection against the crack of her bottom. She didn't stir. I desperately wanted to fuck her and needed her to roll over, but she was out and wouldn't move. Finally, I was completely desperate a

Even the lemon slices in the fridge were gone I threw them away like they'd never mattered. I looked around one last time, standing still in the middle of the small living room. My eyes scanned every wall, every scratch on the floor, every memory I hadn't allowed myself to form. Then came the knock. Three gentle raps. I opened the door slowly, already knowing who it was. "Amara," said the soft, familiar voice of my old landlady, Miss Lota. She was short, hunched over from age but sharp-eyed and sturdy. She always wore thick eyeglasses and floral skirts, even when it was cold.

All because I forgot to add "no peanuts" to my little brother's takeout order, Mom had more than a hundred pounds of fresh flowers delivered to our house. Then she shoved me into a room overflowing with blossoms and slammed the door. She knew I had a life-threatening pollen allergy. "How many times have I told you your brother is allergic to peanuts? You left it off the order on purpose, didn't you? What were you trying to do to him? "You can't stand that I love him. Well, today I'm going to teach you a lesson about that rotten heart of yours!" Pollen swirled through the air. My throat began to swell shut almost immediately. My brother rushed to the door and grabbed the handle. "Mom, I

An hour of listening to the old rusted engine of my grandmother's car— like the stranger had mocked me last night. I shivered at the thought of him. Thinking of him wasn't going to do my marriage any good. He was my past now, and it had to stay that way. "Good morning, Mrs. Michelle Constantine." I greeted the woman who sat behind the desk. She seemed to be going through some documents when her eyes reached up to me. "And you are...?" She tilted her head to the side in askance. "Lyla..." I said, beginning to feel nervous. "Mrs. Lyla Atelo. The new staff."

"They owe money, so go after them. What does pounding on my door have to do with that? You think you can bully a woman?" "Quick, look. The landlady's standing up for us!" Hilda trembled by the window while Giana pressed her nose against the glass, watching. The landlady stood alone outside, facing the entire group. The two sisters let out a long breath. "She's a Silverton local. These street thugs hate dealing with women like her. We might actually be okay." They looked at each other. For one brief moment, relief flickered across both their faces. However, it did not last.

I'm just smiled and nodded. He pulled my suitcase took me to the house he was referring to. Even his lifestyle has changed? His life on the silver platter was gone? We were met by a pregnant woman. "Our landlady," Derick whispered to me. "I thought you’d be going home late. Your daughter is still asleep. Who is she?" the landlady asked. "My friend. I'll let her stay for today in our house." She just nodded. We entered an alley that was overlooked by a small flower garden. The isle between it led directly to the door of a small house. To my surprise, it was the second floor already.

Elise just gave a scratchy shrug back. We met the landlady instead. She was a stout black woman. Her red lipstick and brows were so nicely drawn that I suspected they were permanent. She introduced us as Celia. With a puff of her cigarette smoke, she sat on her squeaky revolving chair behind her desk and worked on an ancient-looking computer. "First, I need your identification cards or passports," she said with a bored look. We gave them to her. She looked at each of us then at our passports before saying. "Russian girls, huh?"