Bleary eyed, you lock yourself out of your apartment without a stitch of clothes

Slipping reluctantly out of bed you stretch, trying to **** yourself awake before groggily heading for the door. You're so tired and out-of-sorts - your backside is still sore from Jacob using it - that you forget entirely about your robe. In fact, you forget entirely about your bathroom bag as well, only remembering it after you've stepped out into the hall.

"Fuck!" you exclaim, whirling about in time to whack your head against the door as it clicks shut.

Well, you think, at least the landlord hasn't fixed the lock yet....

'Jenny,' reads a note an inch from your eyes, 'I fixed the lock. Raoul'

Groaning you slump against the door, futilely trying the doorknob on the chance that Raoul, your landlord, had done the job as shabbily as he did everything else. Unfortunately, your lock proves to be the exception to the rule.

"Nooo...." you moan, letting your forehead hit the door as your heart thumps wildly.

None of your neighbors are the type you'd ever want to go to like this. There was the giant dyke across the hall covered in prison tattoos who looked at you with predatory eyes, the pervert with the young schoolgirl fetish, the evil-eyed guy who was probably on some sexual predator watchlist, and of course there was the thief, the pimp, the stripper/hooker, the deadbeat (x4) dad, and various other who made no effort to work or worked in shady professions.

Maybe if you went to your landlord, you thought, deciding that you had to take action before anyone saw you.