Sylvan Courtyard: Ch. 01 - Moving In

It has been a while since I last posted anything, guys. For my fans who so generously commented or emailed about when the fuck something new would appear, thank you.

I have been working on this series for a while, but real life has been extremely insistent lately. I hope you enjoy it.

As always, remember that I don't go for realistic stories, aiming instead for a narrative that is plausibly ridiculous. That said, please enjoy the tale of Ken Hawthorne, the man who likes to watch... among other things.

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Sylvan Courtyard -- One: Moving In

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I found myself becoming marginally less irritated as I parked my truck in the parking lot of Sylvan Courtyard, the next stop on my suddenly urgent tour of new apartments, and looked around. Unlike most of the places I had visited so far, this place looked neither like a run-down den of wolverines or serial killers, nor an over-priced warehouse for trust fund babies. Instead, it was an older, but clearly cared for, two-story complex off all by itself in a clearing at the bottom of a valley in the National Forest. It was a little far from campus, and the parking situation looked dicey, but I was more than willing to get out of my Ford to look over this possible option.

And I needed a new place, stat. Why is a long story, but it is not this story.

I ambled up to the entrance and was surprised to see that I had to ring for entry, even during business hours. Out here in the wilderness?

But the buzzer responded almost instantly, and I let myself in. The entryway was little more than a pass-thru to the inner courtyard, along with a small, open office/reception space to the left. The complex had been built sometime back in the seventies or eighties, I guessed, and this open-plan office had probably originally been walled off and private. The renovation that opened it up was so recent, I could almost still smell the fresh paint.

That boded well. The owners were not averse to putting some money into increasing the value of this operation, instead of just milking it for all it was dwindlingly worth.

"Can I help you?" asked a young guy at the desk. He was about my age or a year older. Say... 26, I thought.

"Yeah, I hope so," I replied easily. "My name is Ken Hawthorne, and I understand you have a one-bedroom available?"

"I have two," the guy said, standing and coming around the desk to extend a firm hand. "I'm Jesse Cartright. How'd you find us?"

"Flyer on the wall in the Student Union, actually," I said. "I couldn't find you online at all when I looked."

"Yeah," Jesse said. "We are mostly leased out, and we decided to concentrate on students at the University or the other colleges nearby. If I posted us online, we'd have to spend a lot of time on prospective tenants who are older, have kids, etc." He looked at me. "Grad student?"

"Yup. Doctoral," I added, arrogantly.

"Mmmm," he replied, unimpressed. "How much longer do you have?"

"That will depend on when my research pans out," I admitted. I intended to finish 'on schedule', but I knew that vanishingly few candidates were able to be ready to defend their dissertations 'on schedule'...

"Heard that," Jesse sympathized. "I barely got through one year, but I have no idea how long I would have taken."

"You bailed?" I asked. I had lots of friends who bailed on their graduate pursuits, especially doctoral ambitions. It is a lot of money and the rewards at the end are not always worth it to everyone.

Jesse shrugged. "When our uncle died and left this place to me and my sister, the two of us talked it over and decided to run it ourselves. In which case, we weren't going to need expensive degrees. Josie dropped out as a sophomore undergrad. That was two years ago."

"Josie and Jessie?" I asked slyly.

"Do not comment on our names," Jesse grinned, but meant it.

"Sorry about your uncle."

"It's been two years," Jesse shrugged. "He raised us both, but... time goes on."

"Yeah, but..." I said quietly. "My mom passed not much longer ago than that. Time goes on, but it never quite stops sucking, does it?"

Jesse just nodded, and I felt like we bonded for a moment.

We chatted some more about things, as he dug through a cabinet for two sets of keys. My prospective new landlord seemed like a very likable guy, to be honest. His abandoned field of study turned out to have been close to, but not the same as, my own. His fingers jingled as he held up the keys. "Shall we?"

I followed dutifully along behind him as we walked through the rest of the entryway and into the eponymous courtyard.

Nice.

The entry opened out right at the base of the L-shaped open space, each end the same length, surrounded on two levels by the apartments. The second-floor units all had large balconies, while the ground-floor units all had smaller, fenced-in patios, leaving walkway space underneath the upper balconies for bad weather. Bad weather is a thing, especially in the winter in the hill country of Tennessee, so that was good to see.

The courtyard itself was dominated by a huge pool, also L-shaped, that followed the right-angle bend of the space. The patio that surrounded the pool had new, modern furniture and lots of attractive landscaping in both planting beds and huge concrete pots. The weather was only now approaching nice enough to really enjoy that area, and would only be good enough for half the year, but when that weather was nice, this would be a glorious space! My mind idly drifted to girls my age and younger, enjoying the sun... The tenants were mostly connected to the university, right?

Jesse led me to the first unit available, a ground-floor apartment all the way at one end of the left leg. It was a corner unit, which ordinarily would be a plus, but in this building, it just meant extensive views of the woods through the small exterior windows, and almost no patio or view of the pool.

On the plus side, the apartment had clearly just been renovated, as there was still a manufacturer's sticker on the toilet, which Jesse wordlessly peeled off when he noticed it. Still... it was an underwhelming space, and Jesse clearly knew it. "It is not our best offering," he said drily. "The other one-bedroom is much better."

"So why didn't you show me it first?" I asked with a grin.

"Because the next one is 300 bucks more a month," he grinned back.

I smirked at him, but... ouch.

The walkie-talkie at his hip squawked. "Jesse? There is an electrician here. Where did you get off to?"

"I'm with a potential tenant, Josie," Jesse sighed. "Can you get him started?"

"It's a her," the walkie garbled back. "And I don't even know why you called someone in the first place."

"Shit," Jesse grumbled to himself. "I need her to..." Jesse started to explain. "Screw it. Josie? Come meet us at Unit 122. I'll deal with the electrician, and you can show our new guy Unit 210." He looked at me sheepishly. "Sorry to hand you off to my sister, but I've got a whole list for this electrician."

"Plus, maybe the electrician's cute," I added helpfully.

"Yeah, right. I can only hope," Jesse scoffed, then blanched a little at what he clearly viewed as an inappropriate subject of discussion. Professionalism was obviously important to the guy.

I resolved, should I rent here, to dedicate myself to screwing with his mind regularly.

We locked up the apartment and turned to see a girl I certainly hoped was Josie hustling over toward us. She wore nicely-fitting, long-legged jeans shorts and a red and black plaid shirt that clung loosely to a torso that... moved enchantingly as she bounced over to us. She wore a tool belt around her waist, slung at a rakish angle. I recognized the small selection of tools in it. They were the exact same tools that my dad has in his own weekend kit. Someone who knows what they are doing can complete an astounding array of jobs with just those few tools, and they are light enough to wear all day.

Jesse introduced us, apologized again, and then sprinted off toward the entrance and the waiting tradesperson.

"I was trying to tease Jesse," I said as he dashed away. "Is the electrician cute?"

"Not hardly," Josie said in a voice that sounded disappointed. "So, Jesse showed you the dungeon first?"

"It's a nice apartment," I admitted.

"It's a dungeon, compared to 210," Josie said, walking alongside the pool. "That's why we have the rent so low. I wanted 210 for my own place, but Jesse and I forced ourselves to live in the two dungeons just like that one at the other end of the courtyard."

"You both live on-site?" I asked. That was very good to hear. That meant they had to care about the condition of the place. It also meant I'd get the chance to look at Josie regularly.

"We don't have employees. We do almost everything ourselves. Jessie is a dab hand with electrical work, so something must be seriously messed up for him to call for help. Don't worry, though. We both don't mind working, so things around here are always in good working order," she said earnestly. Josie was not above being a salesperson either.

We trooped up the stairs, with her in front. Funny how I made that happen...

Nice shorts. Nicer contents.

Apartment 210 was almost exactly the same layout, but totally different.

The kitchen was brand new, with cheap granite counters and modern-looking, but simple functionality appliances, all just like the first apartment. The bathroom was similarly newly appointed, though the old, eighties-era shower controls had been left intact here. The bedroom was serviceably sized, just like the last unit.

The difference was that the small windows on the two outer walls were absent in this unit, replaced by huge, floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors on one wall and huge windows on the one next to it, both in the living room and bedroom. All looked out over the inner courtyard, and across to the other apartments. The balcony outside wrapped around the corner, letting the apartment overlook both lengths of the pool and patio. The apartment would be drenched in light during the day.

Josie stood there a moment as I walked out through sliding glass doors onto the balcony and looked around. She followed me and after a moment she idly went on about the complex. "So, almost every tenant we have is a student at the university, with about being half grad students like you, except for a few from the college, and a bunch from the nursing school in Veldsburg. The rest are all junior faculty or administrators." She waited a second or so longer. "We have all of three married couples, including Hank and Tammy who met here. The rest of the tenants are about 60 percent female."

Yep. Josie was a good salesperson.

Yes, this unit was more than the other one, but if I was going to rent here, I was going to rent this one. I thought furiously. The rent for this apartment was a bit over what I wanted, but I had a very good fellowship, and it was not over what I could afford.

Mostly, I needed a place ASAP, and even the dungeon apartment here was better than anything I'd seen so far.

I ended up making Josie go through the rest of the spiel, leading me through the basic but decent gym setup on the ground floor, and made her squirm a little over the fact that the age of the original design meant that I'd have to deal with a communal laundry facility, instead of my apartment coming with a washer and dryer like most other apartments these days.

But as we walked back into the office, I turned and stuck out my hand. "I'll take the good one," I said.

She smiled, her round, pretty face entirely unsurprised. She had really good teeth, actually, as opposed to her brother, who sported a gap and a crooked incisor. Jesse himself was nowhere to be seen, so she sat at the desk and started to draw up paperwork for me.

This place was much better than I had really hoped to find, and no more expensive than I feared, including the extra drive time costs. I was loving everything about it that I'd seen... except for Josie. The sad fact was, the co-owner/co-superintendant was tripping my gaydar. I don't have the best track record on detecting lesbians, but a lot of what she was about seemed to check the boxes.

Oh well, I could still look.

Here's the thing. I like to look. My father has always been an inveterate girl-watcher. He never really makes any effort to hide it either, even around my mom when she was still alive. And she never seemed much to care. In fact, though she never made the overt point of it my dad did, I think she liked to look at guys almost as much. But my dad was overt, and made it a point, when I'd hit my teen years, to include me in his appreciation of the passing parade.

And yes, the apple did not fall far from the tree. I also like to look.

"When would you like to take occupancy?" Josie asked.

"As soon as possible," I replied. I wanted out of my current digs... badly.

I walked over to the wall opposite the office area and examined the giant bulletin board there. It was only about half-populated, but that was good, as it let several important-looking notices stand out. There was a reminder about a rule against leaving towels or especially laundry hanging on the porch or patio railings to dry, and a notice about Jesse and Josie coming into the units to test the fire alarms over the next week.

Josie saw me reading. "Jesse hates email with white-hot fire," she observed. "Both sending and receiving. So, since everybody has to pass this board every time you come in and out of here, we use it for important announcements and communications. Tenants can use it for things as well. I started a book club almost as soon as we took over, and it has been a great way to meet people. Jesse started his own book club to compete with mine. He calls it The Books You Always Ought to Have Read," she added good-naturedly. "I had to change my book club's name to help differentiate.

I snorted as I looked over the notices and saw that Josie's version was called Book Club With Books You Actually Wanted to Read

"There are other clubs that residents have started on their own," Josie went on, then paused to look for something to enter into the computer. "We have a beer and wine club started by a former tenant who has since moved out. There is a schism brewing there," she added merrily. "I think pretty soon, we will have a beer club and a wine club."

"You going to let that happen?" I asked, curiously. I was also interested to see how involved these two actually were in the tenants' lives.

"I like both, so I don't really care what happens," Josie shrugged. "Jesse is a beer guy through and through, so I imagine he's a quiet cheerleader for the whole thing."

I chuckled. They both appeared involved but not overbearing, which sounded promising. The social activities sounded more so. This place was pretty isolated, and meeting people was one of my main worries. Plus, I really like both beer and wine, and opportunities to drink them here but not alone would save on Uber significantly.

"How about we get you in there the day after tomorrow? We do a background check on tenants for your protection and a credit check for ours," she said, shoving the suddenly completed paperwork toward me, fresh from the printer.

"Deal."

*

My buddy Dale and myself were all I needed for the move, since I have a barely two-year-old Ford F-150 pickup truck. Two loads had all my worldly possessions (except those boxed up in the attic back home) moved out of my old place and into Apartment 220 of Sylvan Courtyard.

After screwing my bed frame back together, the queen-sized number fit spaciously in the bedroom. Dale departed, along with the case of Heineken I had bought him as a thank you. Jesse, who had actually volunteered to help toward the end of the move-in, hung out with me as I surveyed my new domain. I was really starting to like the guy.

"You need art for the walls," he said idly, looking around.

"Yeah," I agreed, "along with a bedside table."

I walked out onto the balcony and looked around. Three girls walked together along the opposite side of the pool, toward an apartment. Two were kinda cute. The third was extremely well worth watching.

"Nursing students," Jesse said, his eyes following mine.

"I'm going to need some furniture for out here," I added.

Jesse just laughed. He may have already mentioned that he had a strict No Tenants rule, a rule that I assumed also went for Josie, but he could still look.

Of course, Josie and he were looking at the same people. So her rule was as irrelevant as his when it came to me.

I left to buy said deck chairs almost immediately. I was still dressed for moving anyway, and I had classes to teach the next day. Before dusk, I had two new outdoor upholstered chairs for my balcony, both facing the one side of the courtyard, and a small loveseat on the side of the balcony around the corner from the sliding doors, both sides together giving me a view of virtually the entire complex, and more importantly of all the pool. The seating was more luxurious and expensive than I had planned on, and what would I need a couch for? But they all came as a set, were comfortable, and I was feeling like splurging.

When pool season began in a few weeks, I would be ready. This balcony would be an awesome place to work on my research and to grade homework... with a view.

*

Within weeks, my decision to flee my old digs was looking better and better. I liked living out at The Courtyard. It was mostly very quiet and relaxing, but still felt alive with social activities now and then. 'Quiet Hours' began at ten o'clock, eleven-thirty on weekends, but before then, evenings were usually filled with the sounds of people having fun here and there.

I was learning that Jesse was the enforcer on things like quiet hours--not because he was uptight or on a power trip, but because he was a little terrified of the responsibility of running the place and desperately wanted to do things right for everyone. Most of us among the tenants just smiled and indulged him in his recurring bouts of excessive responsibility. Plus, his book club was good and surprisingly well-attended. Lots of girls came to it.

I joined several clubs from the start, to get me over the hump of meeting people, and soon I had a pretty nice growing number of fellow tenants who I knew well enough to talk with in passing. Some, I hoped, would grow to become friends.

Even better, the pool had just been drained for a cleaning before the season began. In a couple of days, it would be filled again. Then, though it was really not yet warm enough for swimming in by any but the weirdly hardiest of souls, I knew lots of us were looking forward to hanging out beside it on the increasingly common warm, sunny days of spring.

With virtually all my neighbors being either undergraduate juniors and seniors, or post-grad students like me, I was finding myself with a lot of attractive neighbors.

As I returned from campus late one evening, I ran into one of those neighbors that I most looked forward to seeing hanging out by the pool. "Hey, Susan," I said, holding the door for her after carding myself in.

"Yo, Ken," she replied, hustling to slide in while I held the door. She had both hands full of grocery bags. "Thanks," she added, as I let the door close behind her.

"Club meeting supplies?" I asked idly, indicating her groceries. I made a half-hearted wordless offer to help her with them, but she ignored it politely. I did not know her that well yet, and then only through the beer and wine club. All I knew about Susan Yellowstone was that she did not care much for beer, knew a ton about wine, though with questionable taste in whites... and she always wore snuggly-fitting, dark blue, stretchy jeans that clearly displayed long, slender legs and, more importantly, an ass lush and sleek enough to die for.