I nervously closed the door and turned around to see Mr.Allen glaring at me. I nervously opened the door and he pushed himself through and walked past me. "Well if you may let me in maybe we can discuss the matter?" "um.no he's at work until tonight, how may I help?" I stammered out. I had a feeling of who it was and my suspicions were confirmed when I opened the door to see Mr.Allen staring at me with his yellow smile. I went around cleaning the apartment when I heard two loud knocks at the door. With that he stood up and marched straight out the door. That fat bastard interrupted my husband again, "I don't think so, you will be hearing again from me very soon!" "Mr.Allen, we will have your money, we just need time." I heard Steve say something but Mr.Allen interrupted, ".I don't want to hear your excuses, I've heard them all, I should have you thrown into the street, you piece of trash!" "Stephen, Stephen, Stephen.I am owed almost £2400 from you and so far I have been lenient." I scurried off to the kitchen and began to listen to my husband having to tell Mr.Allen that we still didn't have the money. He looked up at me and smiled with his yellow teeth and asked for a cup of tea. Steve opened the door and in waltzed the fat bastard, and plumped himself down on the couch. I looked up at Steve and he me, we knew it was him and we didn't have the money for rent, again.
We had been married for 2 years and we love each other dearly, Steve is the only man I have ever slept with, but due to the stress we have been going through, our sex life is close to non-existent. He would always come on the last Friday of the month, and I always tried covering myself, especially my 36DD breasts, which wasn't easy. I hated it whenever he came round, he always used to look at me as if I was a piece of meat, and he made me feel sick, he was repulsive. Everyone in our apartment hated him, he thought he was so big and had an ego bigger than his stomach, yeah he was a fat bastard, about 40, balding, had awful yellow teeth and he smelled sweaty.
Our landlord was called Phil, or Mr.Allen as he liked to be called. Luckily my husband and I lived on the top floor, of a 3 storey block with about 4 apartments on each level, our landlord lived elsewhere, somewhere nice probably. We lived a pretty run down are, you know the type, litter everywhere as was the graffiti, and the apartment block had seen better days. It was £400 a month, gas, electricity and water included. Rent was 6 months behind, and we had ran out of excuses as to why we didn't have the money.