StoryRhyme After Dark: Real Estate Agent


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Real Estate Agent
By Harry Buschman

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Helmut Berger & Charlotte Rampling in The Damned 1969



I should have trusted my better judgment. I should have asked more pointed and probing questions. I should have turned on the gas to see if the burners lit up. But you know how it is with lady real estate agents...

This one got up real close and personal and whispered in my ear. Her breath was warm and spice scented... She told me I would love it here in this charming old house––a rustic cottage that had once been the summer home of Danielle Steel. “Many of her steamiest romance novels were written here,” she said. “Oh, the scandals! You wouldn’t believe... I’m sure it’ll rub off on you.”

She ran her fingers through my hair and promised that the low interest mortgage was guaranteed for ten years. Her fingers wandered up and down my spine as she extolled the close proximity of WalMart and MacDonald’s. I’ll say they were close––WalMart’s shipping dock was right outside the bedroom window.

I was blind sided I guess. I never thought to ask her what happened to the living room ceiling or why the tiles were loose in the bathroom. It never occurred to me to question the “CONDEMNED” tag hanging on the boiler in the basement. No! She stopped my mouth with kisses whenever I sought to question her about the boarded up window in the living room wall.

“You’re so fortunate,” she breathed in my ear. “The place is empty. You can move right in... It’s all yours.” Of course it was empty! Danielle Steel, (if she had ever lived there at all) must have moved out in panic.

“Don’t bother with a lawyer,” she said. “They only get in the way. The smallest down payment is all I ask for. I’ll have the title in your hands in the morning. You’ll be in here snug and warm by afternoon.” Then she fluttered her eyelids and held me close. “We have the whole night ahead of us ‘til then,” she said.

How could I resist a house like that?




(c) 2015 Harry Buschman
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