THE LANDLORD'S DAUGHTER

I loved the landlord’s daughter, desperately. Out of fear of rejection and my intentions to date her being subjected to scrutiny from the pious scrutineers that I shared an apartment with, I did not approach her until this one day.  ******** My landlord’s daughter used to stay in one of her father’s two-bedroom houses in our apartment. She lived all by herself, a loner. She worked as a cashier at her father’s cafeteria located on the ground floor of my apartment. She managed the cafeteria on behalf of her father, my landlord. Our interaction was as brief as a hi, and when I was too lucky, we would exchange an eye-contact. We had never talked before and I never thought we would until this day... One day, my kitchen sink was blocked. The water was not running completely; flooding the sink and the kitchen floor. My kitchen was like a swimming pool of sewage water, stinky it smelled. It was late in the evening; the apartment’s caretaker had left for the day. I needed agent help with the sink that evening. Having a blocked sink sometimes feels like living inside a sewage system itself. I walked down the stairs to the security guards sitting outside the apartment while gossiping about whoever they were gossiping about. Apartment security guards are quickly rivaling the house helps as the biggest gossipers in an apartment. I shared with him my worries hoping that he would call the caretaker for a solution. ‘The caretaker won’t be of great help!’ he said. ‘The caretaker would contract some cheap and drunk plumber who no one has ever rated his work. I would advise you to contract your own plumber, or you will be back here again.’ ‘My own plumber?’ I asked with frustrations. I wish he understood the frustration and agony that comes with draining water that should be running in a sewage pipe from the floor of your house.  ‘I know one. I have a guy who will do the job for you!’ Security guards always have someone who can fix any problem in the house. They are friends with plumbers, electricians, cleaners et al.  ‘Right now?’ I asked earnestly. ‘It is too late. But I can assure you, that guy offers a permanent solution. The previous tenant moved out because the landlord’s plumber did shoddy work in the same house! You better get a permanent solution.’ ‘So, it is a recurring problem?’ I asked. ‘Yea, but my guy will fix it quickly and permanently!’ he said. I took the plumber’s number and called him. He promised to come to my house the first thing the following morning. The following morning, Wekesa, was accompanied to my house by the security guard. I explained the problem to him, and after inspecting the system for 15 minutes, pushing some wire inside the pipes, he came out of the kitchen looking beaten.  ‘This is not a normal blockage. Fat deposits have condensed inside the pipes, a process that I guess has been happening for over a year. Not even hot water can melt the fat.’  ‘Is there any solution?’ I asked. ‘Hapa,’ he said, walking and inspecting the kitchen especially where the wastage pipes would be passing. ‘The only solution is to break a few tiles and drill a hole on the wall to access the sewage pipes value. Only after accessing the valves will I be able to physically unblock it?’ I asked.  ‘No. We can’t break someone else’s wall tiles. This is not my house. I am only a tenant.’ ‘That is the only solution. We can break one or two tiles and drill through the concrete beneath it to expose the valve.’ ‘Can the landlord permit it?’ I asked the security guard. ‘I can’t answer that, but I know someone who might be in a greater position to, the landlord’s daughter. I have seen her give permissions on behalf of her father!’ the security guard said. The landlord’s daughter? Huh! The girl with a snobbish and condescending attitude that stinks than my overflowing sink? I thought.  I had never talked to her before. We had met on the apartment’s staircases several times, especially on weekends. She was well known in the apartment. She walked all by herself, did not do make-up or wear hair, or do nails. She had a natural snobbish nature that shouted, ‘I am the landlord’s daughter!’ to whoever would want to engage her beyond a greeting. Walking down the stairs I was nervous; thoughts of engaging the landlord’s daughter beyond the normal pleasantries weighed heavier and abnormally on my head. I was apprehensive while at the same time excited. I didn’t imagine that I was going to engage her beyond the usual hi. She was intimidating, probably intimidated any boy around. I had never seen her with any boy, neither did I see her with a girl – this goes without saying given the number of lesbians in the city. I stood on the cafeteria’s door and watched her engage a customer. When she lifted a note of money to check if it was fake, I caught her eyes. For the first time, watching her I imagined how it would feel like having s*x with her, especially behind the counter that she was standing. I know it was a bad and premature  thought, but is it bad to think about having s*x with your girlfriend? My girlfriend? The landlord’s daughter?  I quickly shoved the idea away when she lifted her face from the counter and momentarily stared at me. A waitress walked to me, whom I told I had a word for the landlord's daughter. It was common for her to receive her father’s tenants in the cafeteria especially those that had issues with their house. I wondered why it had taken so long for my house to develop a bigger problem that would need her attention. I looked at her again, closely, keenly, lasciviously even and for the first time realized how beautiful she was.  The waitress walked to the counter and after an exchange of words, she lifted her head and looked in my direction. When we caught eyes, she lifted a finger in the air, asking for a minute as she served another customer. I waited for a minute. I would not have minded waiting for eternity either, I mean, I had been waiting for that chance to speak with her at length since I moved into her father’s apartment.  She walked out of the counter, and for the first time, I managed to fully scan her body after turning on my salacious eyes. She was wearing a metal keyhole ruffled shift dress with stripes in the middle. The dress ran up to her mid-thighs. She had cream and grey snake-skinned flat shoes on her feet. She was a plus-size probably because all she ate was the junk food they sold in the cafeteria. I walked outside the cafeteria, she walked behind me. She was a plus-size, but fit,. She had well-elaborated curves on her body. I just managed to check her chest before she could catch my stares.  The dress was loose, the kind that would be blown by a strong wind. I was embarrassed when she caught my pervert eyes on her ass, finally. She looked tired and probably wanted us to be done as soon as possible to allow her to go back to her work. I explained myself to her and the issue I had in the house. Occasionally, my eyes would stray on her t**s, a full cleavage puffed out by a push-up bra. ‘You want me to check it out right now?’ she asked. ‘If it’s possible. I would be glad if it got done by today. My house is in a mess.’ I replied. ‘I ran this thing alone. I alone can operate the counter. It’s already an overload inside there – the few minutes I have been out here. I can’t manage five minutes out. I am sorry. Let me check it out in the evening, then you can fix it the following day! Can you live with it for a day? Kindly?’ she requested, humbly. I understood her. ‘Okay then!’ I said with a dry voice that was blended with a thin layer of disappointment. ‘I promise, the first thing I will do from here is to drop by your house!’ ‘Thank you.’ ‘Its house number?’ ‘D7 fourth floor!’ I replied. ‘Okay, I will pass by and check the issue out. Now if you may allow me, I don’t want to be overwhelmed by the job.’ she said while already walking away. Her mind was already switched back to the job that she didn’t turn to check if I was checking on her. I literally stood and allowed my eyes to dance to the movements of her ass. Damn, she had a figure to behold. -C’mon, this is the landlord's daughter you are lusting on - She is beyond you, boy. I dragged my disappointed ass back to my house. I had to dismiss the plumber and bear another mess in the house for a day. A strong pungent stench coming from the open pipes was particularly sickening. It had pervaded all over the house. The day dragged by slowly. I spent the whole day reading a book called Murder House by James Patterson to kill time and beat the time I had set to finish reading it. At 9;30, I read the last word of the book, disappointed that it had ended. I checked my phone time, time for supper. I placed the book on the puff stool while I wondered what junk food to eat because I could not cook. Then a knock came on my door. I could not cook because I was broke as hell, but a broken sink was the easiest excuse to explain why I could not cook. She was at my door. The house was in a mess, mainly because of the blocked sink. The smell was stronger at that time. I opened the door, and the first thing she did was flash a brief smile on her lips and offer an apology with her eyes. ‘I am sorry I took longer. There were customers on a date this evening and they took more time to eat and finish their date. I had to wait till they were done with lying to each other!’ she joked. So, the landlord’s daughter was making jokes with me? Well enough. After the joke, I loosened up around her, the intense air that I walked with whenever I was next to her vanished. I smiled at her joke and welcomed her in. ‘Come in!’ I invited her in. She walked in, her body at that time was enclosed inside a trench-coat beyond her knees. Her hands rested inside the trench coat’s pockets. The smell hit her nose. She lowered her eyebrows and moved them closer to each other because of the annoying smell. The screw-on her face made me feel embarrassed because of the smell. ‘Is that...’ ‘The smell from the open pipes!’ I interjected her. ‘It has always been a disgusting smell!’ she noted. I sighed; she knew the smell. Phew! The landlord’s daughter recognized the smell of broken sewage. I thought their sewage pipes smell of vanilla and strawberry?  I was happy because it meant she wouldn’t associate the smell with the natural scent of my house. I walked ahead of her towards the kitchen. I showed her the sink and the pipes that had been opened below the sink. ‘You said you wanted some wall broken?’ she asked. ‘Yes, here!’ I said while showing her a joining on a wall with a plastic lid that enclosed pipes. ‘How many tiles while you break?’ she asked keenly. ‘Just one or two. I will foot the repair bills.’ I was quick to add before she could bring up the subject of who would repair it later. ‘Will you?’ ‘Yes. I will buy a tile, cement, and have a fundi repair it.’ I said. ‘Plus, the painting!’ ‘Okay. This is okay. This is manageable!’ her voice was dry and exhausted probably from the constant talking to customers and ordering her waitresses around. ‘Okay, thank you.’ I said. ‘Is that the only problem?’ she asked. ‘I guess.’ I wish I dared to disclose the problem inside my pants. The dry spell was too much. ‘Anywhere else with an issue?’ ‘The bathroom sink is leaking, but I guess it is a problem that can be solved from the kitchen because they are connected!’ I said. ‘Let me see it!’ she requested. I led her towards the bathroom. I walked in first. The bathroom space was tiny, enough to make sure that our bodies were at least in contact, thanks to her plus-size body. I paved her inside and watched her walk towards the sink. She let open the bathroom sink’s tap and watched the water run down. Water started spilling from below the sink into the bathroom’s floor. She quickly moved a step away from the sink and bent forward to inspect where the water was spilling from. Damn, standing behind her at that point boiled my blood. When she bent over, her upper torso pulled the dress and trench coat upper her thick thigh. If she were slim, with a thigh gap, I would have seen her P mount from behind, or even her lips spread. But as they say, thick ladies can walk naked but you won’t see what your eyes intend to see because it’s hidden between the thickness of her thighs. And that is beautiful because it leaves with teasing desires.  Nonetheless, seeing more of her skin and especially her lower ass crack teasing my eyes turned me on, a rapid and violent turn-on. I had to pocket to cover it up. She stood straight and closed the tap before walking out of the bathroom towards the sitting room. ‘Do as you wish so long as you don’t destroy a large surface area!’ she said. Her eyes ran across my sitting room like she was inspecting it. ‘Okay, thanks!’ ‘You have a nice house here!’ she complimented. ‘It’s your father’s house.’ I joked. She smiled, a teasing smile. Her lips pouting to smile was heavenly. ‘I mean, the set up in the sitting room and everything. Apart from the smell of course!’ she said. ‘Hehe, thanks.’ She briefly stared into my eyes before her eyes wandered away again as if she was waiting for me to release her. ‘Is that James Petterson?’ she asked with delight in her eyes while staring at the book on the puff stool. ‘Murder House!’ I added. ‘I used to read him a while back. He is one of my favorite crime writers.’ she said, walking towards the book. ‘I have never read this. Do you mind me checking it out?’ she asked. ‘Sure.’ I said with delight and rushed to the puff stool to hand her the book.  ‘Are you done?’ she asked while going through the book’s blurb. ‘Just now!’ ‘Can I borrow it? It has been a while since I read a book. I am a book lover.’ ‘Sure, sure, you can borrow it!’ I replied quickly. ‘You don’t strike me as someone who would sit down and read a book!’ she observed. ‘Why not? I not only read, but I also write.’ ‘I should have guessed that you are a writer. Most guys that I know in Kasarani and Roysambu writes either as academic writers or any form of freelance writing. It is like 70% of Kasarani’s economy depends on freelance writing.’ she joked. ‘Not really, hehe. I am a writer, as an author.’ ‘Like Ngugi wa Thiong’o and John Grisham?’ she asked keenly. ‘Yes, or more like John Kiriamiti.’ ‘Wow, that is amazing. I have never met an author before. Wow, what’s your name?’ ‘Collins Sakwah!,’ I said with pride in my voice. How often do bachelors like me get our names asked by the landlord’s daughter? ‘Have you published a book yet?’ ‘Next month. My first book comes out next month.’ ‘I would like to read it. What is the title?’ ‘The Campus Exile!’ ‘The Campus Exile, hehehe. What a title! I can’t wait to be exiled again.’ she joked. She smiled. ‘I am sure it will interest you.’ I said. ‘Sure. Can I borrow this? I promise to return it as soon as I am done with it!’ I was delighted further. She was borrowing my book, and not only borrowing it, but she was also going to bring it back and probably borrow more because at that time I was already lining up books to buy. ‘I know how it feels when someone borrows a book and fails to return it. This I shall return.’ ‘You can take it!’ I said. ‘Thank you. Do you stay alone?’ she asked, almost like a whisper. ‘Yes. As alone as I am now.’ I joked. ‘I meant, as alone as I will be when you leave, unless if you wanna keep me company?’ I teased. She smiled. A perfect full lip smile. Beautiful. ‘Not today. Maybe another day, when I bring back the book, we can chat more! Thank you.’ ‘Thank you too for coming by!’ ‘It’s what I do. Have a lovely night!’ she started walking away, offering me yet another view of her bubbly ass shaking vigorously and effortlessly like video vixens in gengetone music videos. She will come back; the landlord’s beautiful daughter will come back to my house? To chat with me? It was unreal. I felt like walking outside the house, banging on every tenant’s door to announce to them that the landlord’s daughter was going to be my friend. Who knows what possibilities the friendship would bring? Friendship brings benefits, or haven’t you heard about friends with benefits