I live in a room, kitchenette and shower room above a garage. It's a nice room, and a nice garage. Until recently I rented the room from a nice old couple, Mr and Mrs Gellatly. I was a good tenant, paid the rent on time, no wild parties, and they kept themselves to themselves. Perfect. I did feel that something was missing though. It was over a year since my last relationship. I kept myself in shape, walked everywhere, gym twice a week, watched what I ate, all that jazz. I was only 27 but sometimes felt as if my life was kind of over, without ever really getting started. I liked guys, and was attracted to them, and wasn't short of interest, but once I got talking to them found them a bit dull. Boring. No spark. That's what I needed, I decided, a spark.
Then Jeff moved in. The For Sale sign went up on a Thursday, and the house was sold within the week. Mrs Gellatly came over to let me know that they'd be moving out in six weeks, and could the new owner, a very nice man, come over to my room to have a look? It was to be his after all. My initial fear - I was going to be thrown out - was allayed when Mrs G told me that I was safe for the next six months at least, they'd insisted on it. There were tears in our eyes as we hugged - mine partly from relief, and gratitude - and I agreed to be in the next day, when the new landlord would come round.
I was reading when there was a knock at the door. Jeff. Medium height, medium age (30?), medium dress (light blue jeans, nice t-shirt), medium build. Medium everything. Nothing to make my heart sing. We had coffee, sat and talked. He had money from some insurance type of job, on his own after a three year relationship. Liked wine, food, blah blah. One thing he said interested me though. He planned to turn the garage into a mini-gym. 'I'd be happy for you to use it too. No extra rent.' Said with a smile. Maybe he wouldn't be such a bad landlord. Dull but nice was the assessment.
I was surprised about how emotional I was when the Gellatlys left. I would miss them, and it seemed they would miss me. Tears dried, I watched the new furniture moving in. Quite stylish, if a bit Ikea. Then the garage door was opened and the gym equipment was moved in. I nipped down for a look. Three weight machines, a treadmill and two different types of cross trainers. I approved. And over by the main door of the garage, a couple of low couches, one a chaise longue, an old, polished wooden table and what looked like a wardrobe. The gym also did duty as a furniture store, which brought down the tone a little.
I waited until the next day, then took over some cupcakes. Twee? Undoubtedly, but a gesture that I would have liked someone making for me. They were, in point of fact, the only things I baked, because they were so easy. Jeff looked pleased though. Men are always impressed by bakery products, I've found. They like simple pleasures.
'You like the gym machines then? I noticed you having a look.'
I coloured slightly, which annoyed me. I don't like other people seeing when I get embarrassed. 'Looks great, the kind of machines that I use myself. You work out often?'
'Most days. Sometimes I like to work out quite late, but I'll keep the noise to a minimum. If it bothers you, just tell me and we'll work out a time we're both happy with.' Considerate too. He was going to be the perfect landlord. 'Feel free to use it any time, day or night.'
'Thanks, I will.' We parted all smiles and niceness. Jeff was shaping up to be a younger version of the Gellatlys.
The next day was a Friday, but I was working from home. My desk at the window looks out to the driveway, and I saw Jeff getting into his car - something small and white - and leaving for work. I'd been waiting for this. I closed the laptop and took off my gown. I had dressed in my gym gear that morning, with just this in mind.
Half an hour into my workout I had built up a light sweat and felt good. I took a break and a bottle of fresh orange juice to the chaise. It was a little hard for my taste, but comfortable enough. I was facing the wardrobe. Why was it there? What was in it? I got to my feet again, tried the door, but it was locked. I looked around for a key. Nothing. None of my business, clearly, but I jiggled the handle a bit anyway, and tried to prise the door open just enough to see in. Which is what I was doing when I heard the door open. Jeff, in his smart suit, holding out his car keys. 'The key's here.'
I blushed again, dammit, a deeper red than last time. 'No, really, it's your business, not mine. God, you must think I'm such a nosy cow.' I was facing him now, and became very aware of my gym kit - lycra knee-length leggings and a cropped sports top that left nothing at all to the imagination. He was taking it all in, and seemed to be enjoying it.
'It's ok, no secrets. We're practically living on top of each other after all.' With that he moved past me - I felt the touch of his sleeve, which nearly made me jump, but bravely I controlled myself. He unlocked to cupboard swung both doors open, stood aside. I was dumbstruck. Inside, neatly arrayed, hung every conceivable kind of spanking implement. Thin canes hung from a row of hooks. Lethal looking belts, some split at the end, wooden and leather paddles, even a leather slipper that must have been at least a size 12. And hanging on the inside of each door was a pair of black, multi-stranded leather whips. I realised I was holding my breath. Jeff was looking at me, waiting for a reaction. Hey, I'm a modern kind of a girl. I had even tried - and enjoyed - some spanking games with one of my exes. Just a hand, though, and pretty mild stuff. Nothing like this. He hadn't wanted to reciprocate, and I didn't want to be the passive one all the time, so we didn't pursue it.
From nowhere an image of my backside as red as my face opened up in my mind. I stammered something about having work to do and fled for the safety of my room. As I went up the stairs I heard Jeff closing the cabinet. I stood under the hot spray of the shower, sluicing off the sweat I'd worked up. Jeff clearly had to be reappraised. My mind's eye travelled over the inside of his cabinet. I found myself wondering what each of these would feel like against my skin. The whips, with their strands of leather; what the pain would be like. The sensation. That leather slipper meeting my backside. A cane, slicing through the air. Without realising it, my hand was at my vagina. My finger was pushing past the lips, touching, probing... my knees went weak as I came with a whimper.
At my desk again, I held a cup of coffee in both hands. Jeff was standing at his car, looking towards the garage/gym/dungeon. I'm here, I thought. Look up. Make contact. He didn't. As his car turned into the road and sped away I lowered the mug of coffee to my desk, rose and padded downstairs. The gym looked the same, but it wasn't. The possibilities of the low couch, the chaise longue, the wooden table had changed. I placed my hand flat against the wardrobe door. It gave slightly. Surely he'd locked it? I tried the handle and both doors swung open. I looked round guiltily, went to the side door, looked out. The driveway was still empty.
I unhooked one of the whips, ran the leather strips through my fingers. I put it back, took down one of the canes. The noise it made when I whipped it through the air sent a frisson through me.