A Project for Bethany

Matthew looked around the room. It was eight feet by ten feet in size, he estimated.

"Prisoners get more space, don't they?" he thought.

But beggars can't be choosers. With the reduction in operations at the factory where he'd been working, he got laid off as the new guy. Two years on the job and he was still the new guy. The job had paid well and he'd banked some savings, but it looked like the pandemic was going to delay any re-hiring for some time. Matthew had moved quickly to mitigate the inevitable cascade effect of the drop in income. He'd packed up his small apartment, arranged for his things to be shipped home for storage in his mother's garage, and was now looking at a spare bedroom in the apartment of his sister's friend.

"So, what do you think Matty," Bethany said as she came down the hall past her own bedroom.

Matthew winced. No-one called him Matty. Well, one person did. That was his younger sister Janie, who'd learned early that he didn't like it and had always used it to aggravate her big brother. Matthew took one more look before replying. The single bed against one wall, the desk across from it, and one well-used desk chair earned the label "furnished" for the room. With no closet, a flat-pack wardrobe stood in one corner beside the desk to offer the only storage. A modest window overlooked the park across the street and many floors below.

"Uh, it looks great Beth," Matthew said as he turned toward her, "I'm so glad you let Janie know this was available and you would let me stay here. Hopefully, it won't be too long before I get something going, and my savings will cover me for a while."

Bethany was wearing the well-worn oversized t-shirt and black yoga pants she had on when she opened the apartment door. Like his sister, Bethany was two years younger than Matthew's 24 years. Despite the masking effect of the loose shirt, Matthew couldn't help but notice Bethany's curves. At five feet eight inches, she was only a couple of inches shorter than Matthew. Where he had maintained the lithe build that had carried him through high school cross country running, her fit cheerleader's body had filled out in so many delicious curvy ways. Matthew still ran occasionally, but without discipline. On Bethany, the effects of regular gym workouts were evident in every movement.

"She's certainly no longer the skinny kid that hung out with my little sister," Matthew thought as he followed Bethany back down the hall past the closed door to her own bedroom.

The length of the hallway tugged at Matthew's curiosity. The small bedroom he was about to move into was barely large enough to call the apartment unit two-bedroom. With a small but fully appointed bathroom tucked in beside the second bedroom, after the living area, most of the apartment's floor space was dedicated to what must be a very spacious master suite. With the upscale nature of the building and its marketing, as well as Matthew could recall, aimed at professional singles and young couples, he wasn't surprised that the units were built around the idea of a large principal bedroom.

"I do have a few rules," Bethany said as she stepped into the living room and turned to face Matthew.

Matthew, distracted by the sensuous rolling of Bethany's hips after setting aside the idea of the apartment's floorplan, almost ran into her. He dodged to one side, barely managing to avoid an embarrassing collision before he stopped. Matthew glanced around the living area, the furniture was tastefully arranged and left enough room near the windows for a stationary bike, some free weights, and a basic freestanding home gym. A long granite-topped counter separated the living room from a narrow galley kitchen.

Noticing Bethany's expectant gaze, Matthew stammered, "Yeah, Janie said you'd be particular about some things."

"No. 1," Bethany began, "I never want to see a dirty dish, when you're done in the kitchen, dishes are washed, dried, put away, and the counters are cleaned. No. 2, you're welcome to use the living room, but it stays as clean after use as the kitchen. The bike is off-limits, I have it set for me and like it to stay that way. No. 3, you use the full bath along the hallway, but keep your things tucked away. I have the en-suite off my bedroom for myself. No. 4, stay out of my room. And No. 5, when I have a guest over, I expect you to be out of sight so I don't have to explain that I'm not living alone."

"So, to recap," Matthew quipped as he indicated each area in turn, "it's clean, clean, clean, keep out, and stay hidden. I can do that."

Bethany's tight smile might have indicated that she wasn't certain Matthew was taking her seriously if he had noticed.

"Good. Some of that may seem like small things, but they will be deal-breakers."

"No worries Beth," Matthew said, "I need this and appreciate it, especially at the deal you're offering me for rent. I will follow the rules."

"I prefer Bethany," she said as she turned toward her room, "I'll let you bring your things in while I take care of a few things."

Two nights later, Matthew was just finished showering after a slow workout on the fitness machine. His phone buzzed with a warning from Bethany that she was bringing someone home. The message didn't need to detail what that meant for him, and he made a final check of the kitchen and living room, wiped off the weight machine one last time, and had settled into his room well before he heard the apartment door open.

Matthew had planned an early bedtime, which meant by midnight in his books. He was planning a full day drafting tailored letters of introduction for his resume in the morning and wanted a restful night. As he lay in bed that intention swiftly disappeared. Matthew had heard noises from Bethany's room as she worked in the preceding days, but the new sounds were unmistakable.

Bethany's headboard was against the wall beside Matthew's bed. The rhythmic banging started off slow and low but built quickly into a jack-hammering that could only mean one thing. Of course, Bethany's orgasmic cries of "Fuck me! Fuck me!" might have been another clue.

"Two days," Matthew thought, "I lasted two days without overtly sexualizing my little sister's friend, and now that's all I'll be doing."

"Come on my tits, and then eat me until you're ready to fuck me again" Matthew heard Bethany say.

Matthew's hand wrapped around his own hard cock and matched the pounding of the headboard while he listened to Bethany announce her first orgasm. When the banging stopped he imagined the cock Bethany was enjoying spurting all over her rounded breasts and that's when he lost his first load that night. Matthew soon recovered and stroked his way through listening to two more rounds of very loud and graphic sex between Bethany and her lover before he faded to sleep.

Waking with a raging hard-on brought the full range of memories and emotions surging back to Matthew as he opened his eyes at the first beeping of his phone's alarm. After addressing that serious need to cum again, he cleaned up and was in the kitchen making toast and coffee when Bethany rounded the corner of the long counter.

"Morning Matty," she said with a broad smile, "I hope Rick and I didn't keep you awake last night."

Matthew turned toward Bethany, his mouth opening to reply but no sound came out. And his mouth stayed open. Bethany wasn't wearing her usual attire in the apartment of tasteful but loose sweats or yoga pants and a long t-shirt. In fact, she wasn't wearing much at all.

Bethany smiled as Matthew's gaze went from head to toe and back up again. Bethany was wearing boy shorts of sapphire blue lace and a matching push-up bra. On her legs were pearlescent white thigh-high stockings that didn't need suspenders, so sheer that her shapely legs glimmered in the light from the apartment windows. On her feet were white ballet slippers, which explained her quiet approach.

Raising his gaze back upward to meet Bethany's amused look, Matthew fought hard to not let his eyes linger on the pair of gorgeous rounded c-cups that almost had nipples exposed to his view over the lacy bra cups. Bethany's make up was picture perfect for a night out rather than morning coffee at home, and her flowing strawberry blonde hair was pulled back into a casual ponytail.

"Uh ... morning," Matthew managed to croak.

Through his shock, Matthew also realized that his own sweatpants had suddenly become taut at the crotch.

"I guess you weren't expecting to see me dressed for work this early" Bethany said, "I have an early zoom meeting with a client a few time zones away, so I'm working on his schedule."

"Dressed for work? ... client? ... huh?" Matthew repeated the words as he tried to process them.

Bethany laughed as she poured a cup of coffee. Relaxed and in control, her laugh was musical to Matthew's ears but did little to alleviate his confusion.

"So," Bethany said, "I take it Janie didn't tell you what I do for a living."

Matthew shook his head as he struggled to maintain eye contact.

"I entertain clients, either in person or, more frequently these days, over the internet."

"So, a cam girl?" Matthew offered weakly.

"Oh, nothing so crude, Matty," Bethany replied with a tinge of disgust, "my work is a little more upscale than that. I have a rather exclusive client list that I built while I was in university. It's just a new way to provide the contact and experiences that my clients desire until I can travel again without risk to me or them."

"Rick was a client?" Matthew asked.

"Not like you're thinking my dear, he's a good friend. Last night he was also a stunt cock to provide a scene for a paying client. If you're lucky you may get to listen to us on his next visit when one is arranged. And before you ask, no, you cannot have a link to any of my material."

"I wasn't ...," Matthew began.

Bethany stepped close, her small hand wrapped around the head of Matthew's throbbing erection through his sweat pants. She could feel the wet spot against her palm as she spoke again.

"Bullshit. You laid there listening, and probably stroking this the whole time. Was it good for you Matty? Did you cum when I did?"

Shocked and speechless again, Matthew didn't even realize he was nodding slightly in response to Bethany's questions.

"Looking and listening don't bother me," Bethany said as she wiped her palm on Matthew's shirt, "but don't get any ideas of more."

Stepping back, Bethany noticed the clock on the stove.

"I have to go," she said, but turned back with an innocent smile as she held up her coffee cup, "please be a dear Matty, and wash my cup with your own."

Matthew obediently took the cup from Bethany's hand. As he watched her go, he silently wondered if she knew how close he was to cumming in his sweats as she held the head of his cock.

Bethany smiled as she walked away and closed the door to her bedroom. Janie had told her that Matthew would be eating out of her palm if she wanted and now she knew that was true.

Without realizing how deeply he had fallen under her influence, Matthew's schedule began to revolve around Bethany's. He was up early making coffee each day, hoping to see a repeat of her "work clothes" appearance, and was occasionally rewarded for his efforts, enough to continue and create a routine. Bethany took advantage, demurely offering her coffee cup or other dishes for Matthew to wash for her, accentuating the unspoken request with smoky eyes or a softly bitten lip so Matthew just couldn't say no. She extended her requests to having Matthew to wipe down the exercise equipment when his own workouts followed hers.

As Bethany noticed Matthew's changing behavior towards her, she added to the distractions she presented. Her attire around the apartment changed, starting with occasionally letting Matthew see her in her work clothes, and wearing closer-fitting and increasingly minimal work-out clothes in the living room. She watched carefully as Matthew sneaked glances, noticed how his voice wavered more as she wore less, and how his cock grew behind the fabric of his sweat pants when she found him admiring her shapely form.

In return, Matthew quietly tracked Bethany's schedule, always ready to be in his room if she was having a visitor. He also found that sometimes, at varying times of day and night, she performed solo for one of her clients. Bethany could be just as vocal with her Hitachi wand as she was with her lovers. Every few days, Matthew would get a warning text, giving him a timing, or sometimes just a few minutes' warning, to be out of sight before Bethany arrived with a guest, or one showed up at the door for her. Each time, Matthew wound up naked in his own bed, listening intently and stroking in time with the sounds coming from Bethany's room and Bethany's bed.

Late one night, Matthew was laying in bed. His stomach was still covered in streaks of cum from having masturbated through one of Bethany's sessions with a visiting stunt cock. He was fighting off the desire to just drift off to sleep, knowing he needed to clean up first, when the knock came at his door. Matthew swung his legs off the bed and rose to a sitting position, pulling a towel across his lap as the door opened to reveal Bethany. She was dressed in a white silk robe decorated with red outlines of large roses, and she did not look pleased.

"Matthew," Bethany said, "Kitchen. Now."

And she was gone as quickly as she had appeared.

"Shit," thought Matthew as he threw on sweat pants and a t-shirt to follow.

Matthew was unsure of what the problem might be right up until he rounded the corner into the galley kitchen. He didn't even need Bethany's accusing finger to recall that he'd forgotten to clear all his dishes the previous evening and to wipe the counter down to her exacting standards.

"I'm sorry Betha...," he started.

Bethany's upheld hand halted the apology in mid-syllable.

"I think," Bethany spoke clearly, "that with the rent I ask from you that you have a good thing going here. I have a few rules that you agreed to when you arrived. I promised your sister I would help and that is what I have been doing. All you need to do is what I have asked of you, and that you have demonstrated that you can achieve."

"I'm sorry," Matthew blurted, "it won't happen again."

"Rules are rules Matthew, non-compliance will have consequences, and the only leverage I have is for you to leave. Do not let this happen again."

"I won't," Matthew replied apologetically.

"I expect to find a clean kitchen in the morning," Bethany said as she walked back toward her room.

Matthew stood still for a moment, breathing deeply and thankful that he wasn't already packing his bags. Desiring to make a better impression, he took time to diligently clean every surface in the kitchen, including the insides of the refrigerator and microwave, and making sure the floor was clean too. It was a few hours later that he collapsed back into his own bed, leaving a shower until the morning.

Striving to exceed Bethany's expectations, Matthew continued to wake early each morning to prepare coffee. He took Bethany's dishes to wash and tidied up after her in the living room without needing to be asked over batted eyelashes. Each time he moved through the apartment he watched for anything out of place that he could correct. Anything he could do to stay in Bethany's good books was in his best interest and he found that he wanted to please her.

Matthew still carefully tracked Bethany's appointment schedule. He took care of his own responsibilities when he knew she was out or engaged in quieter work. Matthew had few hopes that the depressed job market would result in an offer any time soon but felt that staying on top of the job search only helped to prove that he was a worthy roommate. His diligence was one way to show that he was the deserving beneficiary of Bethany's promise to his sister.

When Mathew knew Bethany had a guest, either from her letting him know a guest was coming or because he received a warning text, he was in his room consumed with anticipation. Naked on his bed, with no sounds but what came through the wall, Matthew stroked and teased himself in concert with what he imagined was happening. Two, three, sometimes even four orgasms over an hours-long session left him drained in every sense of the word. Equally, it left him tense and nervous, wondering if Bethany's visit would be repeated even when he knew there was no reason for it.

The second incident was worse. Matthew had thought Bethany was to be out all day and had put in a leisurely workout in the living room. He was in a half-doze on the sofa when the door opened suddenly and Bethany strode inside. She was wearing a dark blue leather jacket and mid-thigh length skirt with a white high-collared white blouse. On her feet were four-inch stiletto-heeled pumps, and she moved in them with grace and confidence that was inspiring. Or would have been if she wasn't so clearly pissed off. She was fuming.

"What are you doing," she hissed at Matthew.

Matthew knew instantly that he'd fucked up. The place was as untidy as he'd ever let it be when working out, and he'd left his phone in his room where he didn't hear the chirp of an incoming text.

"My client will be here in five minutes," Bethany said quietly, but with an edge on her voice that galvanized Matthew.

He lined the weights up as quickly as he could. Then he grabbed his towel and wiped down the fitness machine. Knowing it wasn't enough, he retreated down the hallway and swung his bedroom door closed just as a knock sounded on the apartment's entry door.

Angry at himself and distraught that he had let Bethany down, Matthew was at a loss. His brain told him that he might as well start packing. His cock had other plans as the low voices came through the wall to Bethany's room. Female voices. Matthew groaned silently. As if on autopilot he stripped off his sweats and lay down. His balls seemed to be aching with an instant need to cum and he wrapped his hand around his throbbing cock. Matthew didn't know who was submitting to who, and it seemed like he didn't even have an imagined image of the scene in mind before his cock started spurting at the sound of spanking.

Not daring to make extra noise by heading to the bathroom, though it was never a restricted move, Matthew stayed in his room and cleaned up with the wet wipes he now kept on hand. Then he dressed in jeans and a collared shirt, very different from his usual casual sports attire around the apartment. Matthew sensed that he should probably be properly dressed for the upcoming conversation, no matter how it went.

Not long after, the call came from the living room, "Matthew Thomas!"

"Shit," Matthew thought, "the only person who ever called me that was my mother when she was mad. I didn't even think Bethany knew my middle name."

He walked up the hall in slow time, already guilty and unable to make himself rush to sentencing. In the living room, Matthew faced Bethany. Now out of her heels, she was still wearing the skirt and leather jacket, though her blouse was also gone. Matthew was too concerned to be distracted by the white lace of her bra that could be seen between the lapels of her jacket.

"I thought we had this sorted," Bethany said with a clipped tone.

Her upheld hand stopped Matthew before he could say anything.

"A few rules," she continued, "in exchange for a small room with a proportionately small share of the rent. I don't need that rent or the aggravation that comes with a roommate who can't follow a few rules. I was doing this as a favor to Janie, but you have let us both down. Your sloppiness almost cost me my client, not just today, but for good. That is not acceptable."

Matthew looked up to meet Bethany's steady gaze before speaking.