Searching for a room-mate

Less than a month into college you were already struggling for money and dreading rent time because you knew it would drain the last of your reserves. A job was a necessity, but between school and Jacob and, if you were honest, your own laziness, you've been unable to **** yourself into the job market. Besides, to pay the rent you'd have to work full-time. Your other option, you reluctantly realized, was to get a room-mate.

At first you'd been **** to mention it to Jacob, but he was surprisingly unconcerned by the thought of you sharing with another person the apartment he'd helped you get. He even put out an ad in some paper for you, though the cost of it was more than you'd hoped for. Still, it was worth every penny you paid him for it if it would get you help in paying the rent.

"What a way to spend a Saturday," you grouse, reluctantly waking up. You groan as you get out of bed, the stab of bright sunshine still seeming strange to you. Back home you loved sleeping in, now you never got to except on the weekends.

Your loft is on the top floor of a converted warehouse and all the way down the hall from the stairs. Being in the corner meant more light, which was nice, but without drapes - which you couldn't afford - it seemed excessive, especially since the windows were the height of the wall without interruption. Add in the large skylights and you always found yourself waking up, the sheets kicked off, in a puddle of light.

Sighing and wishing you had a coffeemaker, you trudge across the long empty room, wondering again what it will be like having another person living there. Without any walls you'll have to get partitions. And what about when Jacob comes to visit?

Thinking about Jacob reminds you that you have four people coming today. He'd told you to get up early, but not exactly how early. He also neglected to give you personal details. His visit had proceeded quickly to the bed and stayed there for hours, fucking you four times before falling asleep, then another when he woke up to leave a couple of hours ago. All in all you're feeling barely awake in dire need of both toilet and shower.

Jacob had, as usual, used a condom every time, but you still got all sweaty and worked up. Now, of course, you feel sore and bowlegged, wincing at the usual rawness between your legs. Knowing that you need to use the toilet and shower won't make the walk halfway down the hall to the communal bathroom anymore appealing than it ever is. You hate not having a bathroom of your own but you couldn't afford anything better.

Which makes you wonder what kind of person would answer an ad to live in a fire-trap bug-infested hell-hole like this?

Speaking of which, you'd better hurry up or they'll start arriving before you've washed up.