“Well,” replied Tobias, “background checks out.” The woman across the desk smiled and leaned back on her chair. “Great then,” she replied, fidgeting with her handbag. The atmosphere was quite awkward, and she could tell that her new landlord was attracted to her. Tobias straightened out his glasses, “So now Ms. King, I just have a few questions for you, and then we can discuss payment options.” The woman brushed her afro hair back, “Please, call me Dima.” Tobias smiled and nodded, “How do you pronounce your full name? D-i-m-a-k-a-t-s-o?” The woman laughed throwing her head back, revealing perfect pearly rows of teeth. “Hence that’s why I said you should just call me Dima. You white people are infamous for butchering the meaning out of African names.” Tobias was slightly embarrased and hoped that she didn’t take offence. “Okay, Dima it is.”
Tobias had never had a black tenant before, so this would be a new experience for him, meditating between the cultural differences for instance. “So Dima, any boyfriends?” Dima was taken aback by his upfront question, her eyes widened comically with surprise. Tobias went flush with embarrasment and hurriedly explained, “Oh no, it’s not what you think Dima. I’m just trying to understand what to expect you know.”
“I’m kidding I know. I’m just messing with you. And yes I do have one. We are on and off though, it’s complicated.”
“Okay I get that – “
Tobias scribbled her answers in his book. Dima noticed that this man was so organized and meticulous. Even as she sat in his office in his house, there was not a pen out of place. Each of his books were arranged in order, numerically and alphabetically. He finished writing and looked up at her. She was ready to receive him, with a smile. Tobias asked another question, “So are you loud or are you a quiet person?” Dima’s brown deep eyes glanced out the window for a moment, “Well, it depends on the context.” Tobia’s mouth contorted wryly, “Explain.” The woman laughed in a feminine way. ” Well for instance, when I’m with my friends I’d say I’m quite loud, but when I’m with people I don’t know I’m quite reserved.”
“So lets say you are average?”
“Yeah average is always good.”
“What about in bed?”
“Excuse me?”
“I mean what time do you usually get to bed? Are you the type that stays up late or?”
“Umm well, I’m usually home by 9pm. I don’t like going out at night.”
“Why not?”
“Well as a child my mother always discouraged me about going out late. Always said it was dangerous for a young girl to do so. So I guess it stuck with me and I have an intrinsic fear for it.”
“Okay I see.”
Tobias began to write in his book again. From the corner of his eye he could see Dima glancing around the room, perhaps trying to get a mental picture of him by looking at the clues around the room. Family pictures, pictures of him and his kids, and what looked like a wife, which was odd as he didn’t have a ring on – could be divorced? But Dima didn’t want to bombard him with personal questions – well not at this stage anyways. She also noted his qualifications and awards from universities.
“I see you are a writer,” she finally said. Tobias smiled, “I guess you could say that.” She nodded with a smile of admiration, “I love reading. Maybe I can get to read what you write about some time?” Tobias threw his head back and released a throaty laugh, catching a glimpse of her moistened lips as he reconnected with her deep brown eyes. “Well it depends on what type of things you like to read. My stuff has a, shall we say an acquired taste.” Dima smiled for a moment, “Don’t worry, I have a taste for everything.” Tobias was beginning to sweat as his face went flush red. Dima laughed, “Did I say something wrong?” Tobias shifted around his chair uncomfortably, “Oh no haha. I’m just feeling a bit hot.” He stood up to go and open a window. As he stood and walked, he felt her glare all over his body. Despite being in his early 50’s, Tobias was well built for his age, thanks to his disciplined fitness routine. He could still turn the heads of younger women. He pushed open and secured the window latch and a cool breeze filtered through that stuffy hot study room.
He walked back and took his seat. Dima smiled as he sat down. Her smile was infectious, he couldn’t help but smile back. For a moment he forgot where he was. Her beauty took him to the stars and back. He took a deep breath to try and re orientate himself with his line of questioning again.
“So Dima, I have one more question for you. Do you drink?”
“Yes I do. Not like a fish though, every now and then.”
“Define ‘now and then.’ For some people, now and then means every 3 hours.”
“Haha wow. Sounds like you’ve had some really memorable tenants.”
“Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”
“Well then let me assure you Mr. Tobias, I’ll be nothing like them.”
“That is a relief to hear.”
“I’ll be worse.”
“Wow you’re quite funny.”
“You’ll find that I’m also alot of other things.”
Tobias swallowed hard as he brushed his brown hair back. Dima was quite amused at the effect that she was having on him. He was so easy to embarrass. She was enjoying making him blush.
“Alright Dima, shall I show you to your room?” Tobias asked as he stood up from his chair. Dima followed him out of the study room and out of that old Victorian house. They walked through the lush green garden, on those timber stepping blocks towards the charming old cottage, Dima following close behind as Tobias led the way. His backyard was very well maintained, littered with trimmed greenery and trees on every side, coupled with meticulous landscaping.
“Alright here we are,” chimed Tobias with a nervous smile, as he fiddled with the key and lock, trying to open the door of the cottage. He could feel the warmth of his new tenant standing close behind him, her presence made him squirm. There was also something terrifyingly exciting about going into such an intimate space with her, especially after all that tension between them in his office just a moment ago. “The… the lock is quite stubborn,” he stuttered as he continued to fumble, wriggling the key side to side in the lock. “Here let me try,” Dima offered. Tobias stepped aside, as she gave the key a few twists and instantly the door unlocked. Tobias laughed in disbelief, “Looks like the key just needed a woman’s touch.” Dima gave him a quick wink as she brushed passed him, “I feel that there might be alot more things here that need a woman’s touch right now.”
It was clear to Tobias that Dima was quite impressed at the deal she was getting that day, but it was becoming obvious that this wasn’t the only thing she was impressed with.
After concluding the viewing, Tobias watched Dima drive off in her red Picanto, as she had said that she would only move in the following week. Everything within him told him that it would not be wise to have her as a tenant – as it would clearly be difficult for them to maintain a professional relationship, and who knew the implications that this could have over time. Unfortunately, nothing usually surpassed the allure of a bad idea, and to Tobias, Dima was a pretty good ‘bad idea.’
“Well,” replied Tobias, “background checks out.”
The woman across the desk smiled and leaned back in her chair. The leather creaked faintly under her, the sound far louder in the hush of the study than it should have been. “Great then,” she replied, fidgeting with her handbag.
The atmosphere was awkward—almost too still—thickened by the old house’s walls pressing close. She could feel her new landlord’s attention, the way his gaze lingered on her longer than it should.
Tobias straightened his glasses, shifting uncomfortably. “So now Ms. King, I just have a few questions for you, and then we can discuss payment options.”
The woman brushed her afro hair back, the movement graceful, revealing the delicate line of her neck. “Please, call me Dima.”
Tobias smiled and nodded. “How do you pronounce your full name? D-i-m-a-k-a-t-s-o?”
The woman laughed, throwing her head back, the sound filling the study, bouncing off shelves heavy with books. Her perfect white teeth flashed. “Hence that’s why I said you should just call me Dima. You white people are infamous for butchering the meaning out of African names.”
Tobias flushed, embarrassed, praying she hadn’t taken offence. “Okay, Dima it is.”
Tobias had never had a black tenant before. The idea sat strangely in his chest—a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. This would be new, navigating cultural differences, and something else he didn’t want to name.
“So Dima, any boyfriends?”
Her eyes widened with comic surprise, an eyebrow lifting sharply.
He felt the heat in his face immediately. “Oh no, it’s not what you think. I’m just trying to understand what to expect, you know.”
Her lips curved. “I’m kidding. I know. I’m just messing with you. And yes, I do have one. We are on and off though. It’s complicated.”
“Okay, I get that—” Tobias scribbled her answers in his notebook, grateful for the distraction. His handwriting looked too neat, almost stiff, against the page.
Dima’s eyes wandered the study while he wrote. Everything about the room spoke of order and control. Not a pen out of place, each book lined up numerically and alphabetically. The walls seemed to close in around her, disciplined, masculine, expectant.
When Tobias finally looked up, she was already watching him. She smiled, ready for whatever came next.
“So are you loud, or are you a quiet person?” he asked.
Her deep brown eyes drifted to the tall sash window for a moment. “Well, it depends on the context.”
His mouth twisted. “Explain.”
Her laugh was light, feminine, carrying through the room like perfume. “Well, for instance, when I’m with my friends, I’d say I’m quite loud. But when I’m with people I don’t know, I’m reserved.”
“So let’s say you’re average?”
“Yeah. Average is always good.”
His next words slipped out clumsily. “What about in bed?”
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I mean… what time do you usually get to bed? Are you the type that stays up late, or—?”
Relief softened her face into a smile. “Umm… I’m usually home by 9 p.m. I don’t like going out at night.”
“Why not?”
“My mother always discouraged me as a child. Said it was dangerous for a young girl to be out late. I guess it stuck with me.”
“Okay, I see.”
Tobias bent to his notes again, but caught her from the corner of his eye, scanning the room like she was trying to sketch him in her mind: the family photos on the wall, pictures of children, a woman who might have been a wife—but no ring now. The framed degrees and awards lined the plaster walls like bricks in a fortress of identity.
“I see you’re a writer,” she finally said.
Tobias smiled. “I guess you could say that.”
She nodded, her lips glistening faintly in the lamplight. “I love reading. Maybe I can get to read what you write about some time?”
Tobias threw his head back and released a throaty laugh. The sound echoed in the vaulted ceiling, his eyes catching hers again just as she moistened her lips. For a moment, he forgot to breathe.
“Well, it depends what you like to read,” he managed. “My stuff has… an acquired taste.”
Dima tilted her head, eyes narrowing in play. “Don’t worry. I have a taste for everything.”
Heat bloomed up his neck. He shifted in his chair, pulling at his collar.
Dima laughed, “Did I say something wrong?”
“Oh no, it’s nothing—haha. I’m just feeling a bit hot.”
He stood quickly, striding to the tall window. Despite being in his early 50’s, Tobias was well built for his age, thanks to his disciplined fitness routine. He could still turn the heads of younger women. The latch clicked stiffly before giving way, and he pushed the heavy frame open. Cool night air rushed in, swirling through the study, carrying the scent of damp earth and trimmed hedges. He could feel her gaze on his back, tracing every movement as the breeze cooled his damp skin.
When he turned, she was still watching him, her smile a sealed envelope.
“So, Dima, one more question. Do you drink?”
“Yes. Not like a fish, though. Every now and then.”
“Define ‘now and then.’ For some, it means every three hours.”
Her laugh rang bright. “Wow. Sounds like you’ve had some memorable tenants.”
“Trust me, I’ve seen it all.”
“Well then, let me assure you, Mr. Tobias—I’ll be nothing like them.”
“That is a relief to hear.”
“I’ll be worse.”
Her smile was wicked.
“Wow, you’re quite funny.”
“You’ll find I’m also a lot of other things.”
Tobias brushed his hair back, his hand trembling slightly. He swallowed, heat tightening in his chest. She seemed amused at the way his composure cracked so easily, her presence making him blush like a boy.
“Alright, Dima, shall I show you to your room?” he asked finally, rising from his chair.
She stood and followed him, her movements unhurried, almost feline. They passed through the corridor of the old Victorian house, the high ceilings arching over them like ribs, shadows gathering in the corners.
Outside, the lush garden spread before them. The timber stepping blocks led like a path of intention through hedges and manicured lawn, the night air heavy with the scent of earth and trimmed greenery. Dima followed close behind, so close he could feel her presence at his back, brushing the edge of his awareness like ivy against stone.
“Here we are,” Tobias said, fumbling with the lock on the cottage door. The old timber resisted him, groaning as though it sensed the risk. Her warmth hovered just behind, her nearness tightening his breath.
“The lock is stubborn,” he muttered, wriggling the key uselessly.
“Here, let me try,” she offered, stepping forward.
Her hand brushed his briefly as she took the key. With a deft twist, the lock clicked free.
Tobias laughed nervously. “Looks like it just needed a woman’s touch.”
Dima winked as she brushed past him, her perfume trailing in the air between them. “I feel there might be a lot more things here that need a woman’s touch.”
The words lingered like heat against the walls of the small cottage. The space seemed suddenly intimate, complicit.
After the tour, Tobias watched her drive off in her red Picanto. She’d said she would only move in next week, but already the house felt altered, as if her presence clung to its corners.
Everything in him said this was unwise. It would be hard to keep lines clean, to remain professional. The walls of secrecy could collapse easily, crushing him beneath the weight of his own impulses.
And yet, nothing surpassed the allure of a bad idea. And Dima was a pretty good bad idea.
Lives Between Walls 
What do you think about this?