Katrina breathed a sigh of relief. After weeks of searching, she had finally found a place to live, within her price range.
The school year was coming to an end, and she would soon need to move out of her dormitory for the summer. With exams still ongoing, the stress of finding an apartment was an extra burden she did not need right now. Finding an apartment that she could afford proved almost impossible.
Luckily, with so many university students moving out, many advertisements had started popping up with rooms for rent. Many of these ads were dead ends—either too overpriced, or too dingy for her tastes.
Katrina was not exactly a “high maintenance” girl, but she did have some standards. Finishing her second year of university while working part time, she knew that she would need to make sacrifices… but she also needed to find a home that felt like the right fit. It needed to be a place where she had some privacy, she felt secure leaving her belongings unattended, and where she could enjoy coming home each day.
When Dr. Joseph—her professor and current boss—told her about an advertisement for a room that his neighbor was renting, it seemed almost too good to be true.
It was a moderately sized bedroom, on the second floor of beautiful home. The ad boasted a small walk-in closet, a bathroom that was shared with one other tenant, and dedicated space in the pantry, fridge, and standalone freezer. The house was located in a quiet, residential neighborhood, only 20 minutes away from the university. While the price was on the upper end of her affordable range, the room was being rented well below comparable rooms anywhere else in the city.
It felt like a steal, and Katrina was nervous as she first stepped up to the door for a showing.
Katrina was not a very outgoing person. She genuinely wanted to be more confident and extraverted, but at the end of the day she usually came across as awkward and shy. She regularly hung out with other girls that embodied who she wished she could be, and she was often jealous of how easy they made it look.
She knew that she was attractive. Or, at least she did not consider herself ugly by any means.
As the daughter of a South Korean immigrant and a Caucasian man in a predominantly white town, she had grown up feeling like an outsider. While there was always a stream of guys that were into “Asian girls,” the novelty of being “exotic” wore off in high school. She had grown up cursing her genes, feeling destined to be just another small-breasted Asian girl that nerdy guys would awkwardly flirt with.
In retrospect, she had probably been the envy of many other girls. 5’7″, toned from years of volleyball, and with B-cup breasts that looked quite large on her small frame, Katrina knew that she had nothing to be ashamed of. Moreover, she was had heard multiple times that she had an innocent smile that made people warm up to her quickly.
She suspected that smile was partly what helped her secure her new home.
The owner of the house, Spencer, immediately set her at ease. When she arrived for her first meeting, she thought that Spencer was going to be evaluating her, deciding if she was a trustworthy tenant to live in his house. On the contrary, it seemed like from the start, he was trying to convince her that this was the place for her.
She did not need much convincing. While the house was at least fifteen years old, it was newly renovated with a new kitchen and new washrooms, and centralized air. As advertised, the tenants shared one washroom on the second floor while Spencer predominantly used the en suite washroom attached to the master bedroom. The previous tenant had already cleared out and Katrina felt an immediate connection as she stepped into the empty room.
They signed the paperwork that day, and she began moving her things in as soon as exams were over.
The first few days felt strange, but Katrina welcomed the adventure of trying something new. Aside from the dormitory, she had never really lived away from home. For the previous summer, she had gone back to her hometown to stay at her parents’ house. However, this year she had started volunteering as a research lab assistant for Dr. Joseph in the Psychology department. When the opportunity arose to take a part-time paid position in the same lab, Katrina had jumped at the opportunity.
Although the job offered fewer hours than her old fast food summer jobs, the hourly rate was better. Overall, she ended up clearing just slightly less money in this position, but the job itself was infinitely better and the experience looked better on a future resume.
The bigger hurdle was having to pay her own rent, but she was determined to make it work.
Fortunately, Spencer made her feel immediately at home in the house. To her surprise, he even helped her move her things from the car into her room. In the first few days it felt like she barely saw him, as he spent a lot of time working from his basement office.
The other tenant in the house, Elizabeth, was nice, but largely kept to herself. In fact, Katrina had been living in the house for a full day before bumping into Elizabeth in the kitchen one evening.
Katrina liked her, even though they barely chatted.
Elizabeth was an English major at the same university and had just finished her third year. She seemed older than Katrina, but only by a few years. She had dark hair and pale skin, and was maybe an inch taller than Katrina. Elizabeth’s frame was a little wider than her own, although she was not quite overweight. During their first meeting, Katrina could barely control her own stare, as her eyes kept drifting down to Elizabeth’s large breasts, braless and barely contained in a loose-fitting tank top.
Within the first week, the two girls learned that they had several mutual friends, or friends of friends. In fact, Elizabeth was in casual relationship with another girl that had lived in Katrina’s dorm.
Before long, things started to normalize, and Katrina got into the routine of her new life.
She worked three days per week, mostly recruiting participants and collecting data for several ongoing research projects that were being run by the grad students in her lab. Occasionally, she would conduct literature reviews or proof-read some material for Dr. Joseph. Overall, she loved the work and it solidified her goal of eventually applying for post-grad studies.
In the evenings, she cooked, read, went for runs, and sometimes watched TV if the den was free. It felt strange to occasionally see her professor, who now lived on the same street, on her way to campus or during her daily runs.
While lounging around the house, sometimes Spencer would join her. Rarely, Elizabeth would join them. Katrina had always been a shy girl, especially around men, but she knew it was silly and she wanted to get better.
Spencer seemed like a very friendly guy. He was clearly older, but she had a hard time estimating his age. If she had to guess, she would place him somewhere in his late thirties… perhaps forty at most. He was a financial investor, and although he was not rich, he seemed to do alright. Katrina suspected that the house would be outside his price range if it was not for the tenants, but she envied him for having a place of his own.
Ideologically, they were very different people, but it did not really matter. As an overtly proud progressive, she knew that most of her opinions fell on deaf ears. She quickly learned to avoid more controversial topics, as this typically resulted in a glazed over expression and polite nods.
But Katrina was not naïve and she did not believe everyone had to share her worldview. Despite their differences, she grew more comfortable around him. Within days, they were making small talk. Within weeks, they were regularly exchanging jokes. After almost a month, she dared to say he was like a friend.
The living arrangements were better than she had anticipated. As promised, the washroom was mostly just shared between herself and Elizabeth, without any drama or conflicts. Aside from the occasional visitor that Elizabeth invited over, the girls mostly knew each other’s schedules. In fact, as the girls grew more comfortable around each other, they occasionally used the room at the same time to do makeup or dry their hair.
Over time, things started to get more stressful at work. Or perhaps, Katrina was just starting to feel more disconnected from her friends after so many of them had gone home for the summer. She occasionally texted Miri or Steph, or sometimes Mandy, but it felt like many of her friends had their own stuff going on.
Either way, Katrina found herself chatting more and more with Spencer. On more than one occasion, they even had a beer together on the weekend. She did not usually drink much, but it felt nice to try and reinvent herself.
This is what university students do, she told herself. They drink and they make new friends.
She sometimes detected a hint of flirtation from her landlord when they drank, but Katrina knew that it must all be in her head. That’s what happens when you don’t spend enough time around guys growing up… you think everyone is trying to flirt with you. He was also friendly with Elizabeth, but Katrina spent more time in the house, so obviously it was natural that he would get to know her better.
Spencer had been renting these rooms for years, and he seemed sensible enough to know the boundaries of a landlord-tenant relationship. Despite her suspicions, it was nice having someone to talk to.
Although he never outright said it, Katrina suspected that he had once been married. Or, at the very least, he had been in a very serious relationship that did not end amicably.
“You know you’re allowed to have guests over here right?” Spencer asked her one Saturday night after a couple of beers. “You’ve been here almost two months, and I think you maybe had a friend over once.”
“More than once,” Katrina responded with a laugh between sips of beer. “At least two or three times. You weren’t here when Vanessa came over.”
He chuckled. “Okay, just making sure you knew. Liz has her friends over all the time. I think Kelly pretty much keeps her own shit up in the bathroom now.”
Katrina smiled, but said nothing. It was true. Kelly came over almost every weekend and frequently stayed the night. For the most part, she mostly stayed in Elizabeth’s room, occasionally using the shower and leaving in the morning. Soon after Katrina had moved in, they had struck up a conversation in the hallway, with Kelly asking her a lot of questions about their mutual friend that had lived in the same dormitory.
Weird, Katrina had thought afterwards in her room. I didn’t even know that Kelly was friends with Mandy. Then again, I think she was friends with Mandy’s roommate, so I guess it makes sense that they would know each other.
Kelly was an attractive girl, somewhat shorter than Katrina but with a more athletic frame. Katrina absolutely loved her blonde hair, shaved on one side and grown out on the other, with a prominent blue streak through her bangs. It was exactly the type of haircut that she wished she had the confidence to pull off.
Now, sitting in the den with Spencer, Katrina mostly thought about how thin the walls were between her room and Elizabeth’s…
“Anyway,” Spencer continued, filling the awkward silence, “I’m not judging or anything. I just wanted to make sure you know this is your home too. Feel free to bring people over if you want. They can stay the night or whatever. Just make sure they know which side of the fridge is your food.”
Katrina laughed again at the half-joke. She was a lightweight when it came to drinking, but she was not drunk yet. She was in that comfortable place where every sentence seemed to carry slightly more weight, hinting at something more, but those hidden meanings were fleeting and quickly forgotten as the next sentence pushed away the one before it.
She brushed her fingers up and down the exterior of her glass, growing wet as he collected the condensation that was quickly forming. “Thanks,” she said. “I was actually talking to one of my friends about coming over for a weekend but we’ll see.”
“Oh, nice. Lady friend?”
“Yeah, from school. She went home for the summer.”
“Cool. Friend or …” He trailed off, looking up towards the ceiling, then back at her. “Or you know… like… Kelly?”
Katrina looked at him confused, taking a full two seconds to catch his meaning. She blushed, turning her head away partially to hide her embarrassment. “Oh my god, no. Just a friend.”
Spencer smiled. “I’m just messing with you,” he said with a wink.
It was not the first time that he had casually joked about her sex life, or being with another woman for that matter. The first time her had done it, she had been caught off guard, unsure how to respond. Now, it just felt like a normal joke between friends.
In truth, Katrina was no virgin. She had lost her virginity younger than she cared to admit, and she had been with several guys since that time. And while she was not a lesbian, she had casually thought about other women. It was hard not to think about other women when she occasionally heard the muffled sounds of Elizabeth and Kelly next door.
Katrina leaned forward in her chair, suddenly switching to a more serious look. “By the way, just so you know this is your home and you’re allowed to have people over too.” She grinned from ear to ear. “I just wanted to make sure you know that.”
“Ouch.” He continued to chuckle, slouching in his chair. “You’re not wrong though. Not sure when was the last time I had someone over… lady or otherwise.”
“Present company excluded, obviously,” she joked again.
“Yes, present company excluded,” he repeated.
They chatted for several more minutes before Katrina decided to migrate back upstairs and stream a TV show.
“Goodnight,” she said, getting up from the table. “Thanks again for the beer.”
“No problem, have a good night. I might as well go check some work emails.”
They said their farewells, and Katrina returned to her room as Spencer slowly cleaned up and headed towards his office in the basement.
Katrina planned out her next day. She wanted to get up early and possibly go for a run.
Oh right, I almost forgot!
Earlier that day she had hung some laundry on the clothes line to dry, including her favorite running clothes. She really did not feel like going out to get them, but she suspected they would be damp again if they stayed outside overnight.
Begrudgingly, she grabbed her laundry basket and forced herself back downstairs. She was pretty sure that Elizabeth was still awake, but still she tried to act quietly as she slipped on her flip-flops and stepped out into the backyard.
It was cool outside, and she shivered in her t-shirt and shorts. It was dark outside, but after several seconds her eyes began to adjust and she felt significantly less blinded.
Fortunately, there was only a small load of clothes awaiting her, and not enough dew had accumulated to undo an afternoon of drying in the sun.
Satisfied that nothing had fallen to the ground, she grabbed her basket and turned towards the house. The windows were mostly dark. A dim light shined from the kitchen window, and two bedrooms were brightly lit upstairs. Down, to the right, she saw another light on in Spencer’s office.
Perhaps slightly tipsy, she smiled as she considered how easy it would be to scare him if she tapped on the window. She knew he would find it hilarious, and she slowly crept closer, temporarily forgetting about the cold.
However, about hallway to the window she began to have second thoughts, wondering instead what would happen if he panicked and called the police.
Disappointed that her plan might not be a good idea, she stopped, wondering if there was another prank she could pull off.
Then, something caught her eye. From her current angle, she could just barely see Spencer sitting at his desk. Again, she slowly approached the window.
The curtains were partially open, and as she got closer she began to wonder if perhaps this had moved beyond a fun prank and into voyeuristic territory. Still, curiosity pushed her forwards until her suspicion was confirmed.
Her landlord was masturbating at his desk.
He was sitting with his side profile towards her window, and there was no doubt that his hand was wrapped around his dick, stroking it.
Katrina froze. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck! She turned and quietly started creeping back towards the door.
Again, she stopped. Putting her laundry basket on a nearby a chair, she hesitantly turned. I shouldn’t, she thought. I definitely shouldn’t.
One step at a time, she found herself back at the window, peeking inside.
The window was placed high in the basement room, so Katrina stared down at her landlord. The office was not a large room, and his desk was located close enough that she could almost reach out and grab him if there was not a sheet of glass between them.
She watched, mesmerized, has his hand slowly moved up and down. From this angle, she could only see half of his face, but she could clearly see his cock. It looked large, relative to his hand.
This is so wrong, she thought. He’s almost old enough to be your dad… and he’s your landlord. Still, she continued to watch. She knew she had to stop, but her body would not allow her to leave. It had been months since she had been with a guy, and it was humiliating realize how desperate she had apparently become, hungrily watching her landlord jerking off. It was even sadder to realize this may be the only dick that she might see for months… aside from porn.
Porn… she bit her lip, watching his eyes glued to the computer screen. It felt so wrong, but part of her wanted to see what he was watching. Privately hidden in the shadows, her hand began to find its way to her shorts, fingers gently caressing her womanhood through two lairs of material.
His computer screen was turned so that she could not see it, but she imagined what he might be watching as he jerked off.
I wonder what Spencer’s into… I bet it’s lesbians or some really kinky stuff.
Crouching down, she scanned the room. Another window caught her eye. Quietly, she tiptoed around the corner of the house and knelt down. Now, hidden in the space between Spencer’s house and the nearby hedge, she was now positioned behind Spencer in his chair.
Carefully, she inched closer and closer to the window until she could at last peer over his shoulder and see the computer screen in front of him.
Katrina’s eyes squinted, trying to make out the image before her, but her brain took several moments to process it.
On the computer screen was a room she had seen before. In the far corner of the room was a shower stall, encased in glass. Stepping out of the shower was a blonde figure, with a prominent blue streak in her bangs.
Katrina watched in confusion as Kelly, fully naked, grabbed a towel and began to dry herself. That’s our washroom, she thought, half as a statement and half as a question. But Kelly’s not even here right now.
The sudden realization hit her like a train.
Spencer had a camera in their washroom, and he was recording them.
Mortified, Katrina did not know what to do. Should she call the police? Should she run away? Should she run back into the house and confront him? Or should she go and warn Elizabeth? She might be in the washroom at this very moment.
A full minute passed, but she did not move. She continued to watch the computer screen and watched the motion of her landlord’s arm moving up and down, masturbating as Kelly finished drying off and began getting dressed.
My landlord is a pervert. She felt disgusted that she had trusted him and even called him a friend. She felt betrayed, but she also felt conflicted. After all, she had only discovered this by spying on him, making her feel like a hypocrite.
As an insult to injury, she began to wonder how she would ever find another decent apartment at such an affordable price.
Despite all of her panic, she could not seem to draw herself away from the window, and she continued to watch as the video on his screen ended. With one hand still wrapped around his dick, he minimized one window on his screen and brought up another one.
It was difficult to see from her position, but she watched as he opened up a folder containing a long list of files. Still stroking, he browsed until he found what he was looking for and opened it. Once again, the screen showed an image of the same washroom, now empty.
Soon, another figure walked into the frame, entering the washroom and closing the door behind her. Placing some items on the counter, the girl on the screen took out her phone and scrolled through it, finding something and tapping the device several times.
Placing the phone on the bathroom counter, Katrina watched as the image of herself swayed to some music that only the girl on the screen, and presumably Spencer, could hear.
Katrina could feel her throat tighten as her image on the computer screen reached down and quickly pulled off her t-shirt, exposing a pair of B-cup breasts adorned with small caramel-colored nipples. Spencer’s arm visibly sped up as the two of them stared at Katrina’s topless figure, dancing alone in the washroom.
Katrina wanted to scream. She wanted to smash the computer screen. She wanted to beg for him to turn it off and deleted it.
Instead, she watched helplessly as the video continued and her image on the screen bounced excitedly around the washroom, hanging a towel on a nearby hook and turning on the water in the shower. Her breasts bounced with each step, and Katrina’s eyes switched back and forth between her topless image and her landlord.
She wanted to be mad. She knew that she should be mad, and perhaps part of her was. She could argue that he was a disgusting pervert for what he was doing, and she was innocent because she had accidentally caught him masturbating… but she had chosen to turn around and keep watching him. I know it’s not as bad, but still…
Katrina was shocked by the realization that her hand was still firmly placed over her shorts. She shuddered, feeling ashamed that some part of her was aroused by the sight before her.
It was like watching a train wreck, and she could not bring herself to look away.
But there was something more. Some part of her felt drawn to the depravity of it, transfixed by some otherworldly desire.
She continued to watch in horror as the girl on the screen slipped out of her bottoms and kicked them to the side. The panties immediately followed, and soon the two voyeurs watched as Katrina stepped into the shower stall.
The windows around the stall did little to obscure the picture, and Katrina could still clearly make out the darkened colour of her nipples and the patch of finely trimmed pubic hair. The naked girl on the screen naively began washing her body, clearly unware that an audience was enjoying her vulnerable state of exposure.
As Katrina remembered the number of files she had just seen moments ago, part of her felt deflated. Spencer had dozens, perhaps hundreds of these videos. She had no way of knowing how many times he had watched this exact video or how many other videos of her he had watched. How many times had he watched Elizabeth? How many times had he watched Kelly? How many other girls had he watched?
Spencer reached for the mouse with one hand and skipped the video ahead several minutes. On the computer screen, the shower door opened, and a completely naked Katrina reached for her nearby towel. Her wet skin shined in the bright washroom lights, her hair clung to her skin, and her most private moments were immortalized for Spencer’s collection… for his enjoyment.
Just admit it, she told herself. You know it’s true. Katrina took a deep breath. This if fucking hot.
“Fuck…” she whispered inaudibly in the dark. She had hoped that admitting it would perhaps make her feel less guilty, but it did not. Resigned to her fate, she unbuttoned her shorts and slipped her hand into her panties.
On the screen, her naked self was just finished drying and was grabbing something from a drawer, just out of frame of the camera.
Oh no, Katrina thought, remembering what was coming.
On the computer, the completely exposed version of her continued to bounce in time with the music, opening a bottle of lotion and squirting some into her hand.
Spencer’s hand slowed down, then suddenly began masturbating more vigorously as Katrina rubbed the lotion onto her skin, starting on her arms and moving inward. In no time, she was rubbing lotion over her exposed breasts.
Katrina felt compelled to move back towards the first window. She was not sure she could bear to watch what was coming in the video. Or, at least that’s what she told herself. She knew that deep down, she desperately wanted to watch her landlord cum as he watched her video. Her face burned with shame as she began to finger herself in the cold night.
No longer able to see the computer screen, she instead stared at his cock as it was vigorously stroked. Part of her wished that she was in the room, under his desk, jerking him off instead. She stared at the bulbous head of his cock, and she wished that she could wrap her lips around it. She wanted to feel it relentlessly fucking the back of her throat. She wanted a hand on the back of her head, firmly holding her pretty face in position. She wanted her landlord to take her body and make it his.
She could tell he was getting close, and she suspected she knew exactly what was on the screen. By this point, the oblivious girl in the video was most likely done with lotion and had moved onto something more vulgar. She was probably showing Spencer just how much she loved having her nipples pinched. The girl on the screen, no more than an object with the sole purpose of being exposed, was showing her landlord exactly how she liked to be fingered. Katrina—a Dean’s List student, quiet, and innocent—was now letting this pervert hear the sound of her moans, especially at the height of an orgasm.
Katrina let out a small moan as a stream of pearl white erupted, watching in slow motion as it landed somewhere on the floor beside him. There was no turning back now as she rubbed her clit, trying to muffle her moans with her other arm as she quickly brought herself to orgasm.
Spencer was still cleaning up the mess as she picked up her laundry basket and quietly slipped back inside the house. Still trembling and terrified that her footsteps might be heard in the basement, she inched towards the stairs and then retreated to her room.
Placing the laundry at the foot of her bed, she paced back and forth, struggling to slow down her breathing. Desperate to calm herself, she went to washroom to splash water on her face.
Her hands were already below the faucet before she realized where she was now standing.
She nearly panicked as she wondered if she was now on camera. Can he see me now?
Forcing herself to try and act casually, she continued to wash her face, the same as she normally would before bed. Discretely, her eyes scanned around the room, looking for anything unusual. From the angle that the videos were taken, she knew roughly where the camera should be.
But try as she might, she could not recognize anything that looked out of the ordinary. It would help if I knew what I was looking for, she thought. She had no idea what a hidden camera might look like, and she had lived in the house long enough that everything here looked ordinary by now.
Defeated, she returned to her room. She sat on her bed and another thought intruded on her mind. Can he see me in here too?
It had been twenty minutes since she discovered her landlord’s dark secret, and she still had not done anything about it.
She wondered what would happen if she called the police. Would they find the camera? Or did they need to with so much evidence on Spencer’s computer?
It suddenly dawned on her that somebody would need to watch these videos if he was arrested. They would be considered evidence, and one or more police officers would be given the job of watching them… probably all of them. They might even be used as evidence at a trial.
Katrina felt disgusted and excited by the thought of some other middle-aged man watching her shower. How many people in total would get to see this? And not just her, but Elizabeth and Kelly as well.
She hated to consider it, but she wondered if the lesser evil might just be to pretend she did not see anything.
Of course that’s bullshit. Who knows how many tenants have used that washroom… how many he has recorded… how many more he will record.
Her brain was trying to rationalize what her body wanted in the moment—to fixate on the arousing aspects of her discovery and to try and ignore the terrifying ones. There was no getting around the fact that Spencer was a terrible person, taking advantage of young naïve women to fulfil his own gratification.
And that’s exactly what Katrina wanted right now.
Grabbing a towel from her floor and turning on some music from her phone, she proceeded to the washroom.
Maybe a shower will help me think…