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[briancampbell0706]

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[spinebuster]

besties how do you ask for help lol

[gingerwerk]

I am yet again trying to create a monthly budget plan/be aware of my spending and being fully confused when I over estimate my monthly expenses and see I should still have money left over

[from-izzy]

[01:34] | nct na jaemin

Your ceiling fell.

pairing » nct na jaemin x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)​

trope/au » ​established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » boyfriend na jaemin who picks you up even though he's tired, summer is annoying to the reader (sorry, i'm really hating summer rn), fluffy fluff with a tinge of angst, clothes stealer reader!, but you never end up using it because you got too tired and fell asleep, i love na jaemin (can you tell?), reader is the little spoon, jaemin is so caring and cute (i'm in love with him), jaemin brushing his hand through your hair

word count, estimated reading time » 2496, ~9 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » jaemin is taller, outside clothes on the bed (i don't do this but it's cute here 😭 forgive me), oh...it's not proofread 😭

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

recently went back to my wips and found bits and pieces that could work together and meshed them together as best as i can 🤣 just whipped up this little thing whilst i was at it hehe

also, not going to be specific but will you believe if i said that this is based on a (my) true story? 🤠 it's been...messy 🤠 to say the least.

thank you for proofreading (when you're supposed to be focusing on school) @cupidjyu !! 💕

Your ceiling fell.

Well...

To be exact, there isn't a hole that lets the spiders and birds able to look down and see the base of your kitchen sink but when the inside surface of the roof fell, so did the insulator that kept the house warm during the frosty winter, and cool in the scorching summer. Because of the unstable roof condition, your whole family was wary of putting the air conditioning system on. The vibration from the machine and the sound waves themselves may be the little push it needs to send other parts of the roof crumbling.

You hate the hot weather so much.

In this period of the summer, when opening the windows was barely an option as it also let the heat through, it has been hard even to do anything remotely productive. With every move of your body, it generates heat and energy, which when mixed with the thirty-five-degree heat, all you want to do is lay on your bed and let the sweat evaporate off your skin with the help of your tower fan. That's how the mornings would go. Sometimes when you're not too tired from the previous day's work, you would go and take shelter in the library, turning confused heads when you would be wearing a jacket as overtime, it became too cold. 

The worst thing is that there has been no word from the insurance company or the people who could help to fix the hole in your ceiling. Unfortunately, it did fall during the peak holiday season but at this point, when it’s no longer the festive season, no one in your family understands what’s going on with the back-and-forth messy conversations to fix the issue. 

The past three months have been full of frustrating calls to your boyfriend but Jaemin has been picking up your phone call at the second time his ringtone rings, greeting you with that emphasising smile of his as he sees the layer of moisture on your face. At first, you tried to give him the best smile you could, but you eventually broke down after the first month, completely done with changing your clothes every day in every hour. Jaemin, though busy with his own responsibilities, never fails to take you out whenever he can, accompanying you in your aimless night time walks or accompanying you to the library where he would start reading a random book while you snooze on his shoulder. 

Today is one of the nights where you can’t handle sleeping in the house, too hot and uncomfortable for your eyes to even think about closing. You guiltily text Jaemin, asking if he’s able to have you over and within a few minutes, the black-haired arrives at your house, air conditioner blasting in his car and a genuine smile greeting you as soon as you step in. He waits outside his car with his oversized shirt and short pants; his usual summer attire. He kisses your frown away as soon as you rush into his arms, dropping your bag of clothes to the floor. His affectionate gaze for you grows, cupping your cheeks in his hands to hush you from the apologies that you would say for going out so late at night even though you insisted that the five-minute walk was fine to do.

“No,” Jaemin juts his lower lip to you adorably. “Not letting you do that!” He presses another quick peck on your lips that makes your cheeks heat up and makes you a stuttering mess. “I’m hungry! Let’s go grab some food first!”

You let out a knowing chuckle, shaking your head at him fondly as you know that just means another movie night that will go on until five am. To Jaemin, this is the best kind of date: the one that is unplanned but is planned at the same time. With the way that you’re literally having the worst summer ever as well, all he wants to do is to make sure that at least when you look back on this summer, you will remember his air conditioner blasting in his room. Bonus, the later you sleep, the more time you’ll have in a cooled, comfortable and private environment. 

But you know deep down, that you will always remember his warm, kind heart first out of all. 

With hands full of takeout from the nearest fast food to his house, Jaemin talks you through his list of movies that he wants to check out before you both fall asleep. He was so excited that he nearly missed the step up to his room, almost waking up the whole house with how his body would tumble down the staircase otherwise. But oh how much he would if it meant that you wouldn’t be crying on the humid, summer night.

"It's perfect, Jaem." 

You comment when Jaemin asks you about the temperature of his room and he gives you a relieved look, smiling in satisfaction to know your thoughts. Jaemin starts to unload the snacks in his arm on his study table, prompting you to do the same. He turns his sleeping laptop on, waiting for his device to start up.

In the meantime, his attention falls on you once more. "You must've been overwhelmed." His arm spreads open, silently asking if you would accept his gesture.

All you gave was a quiet hum and it momentarily worries him before you step to bury your head into his broad chest. You sigh into his perfect body temperature that balances the coolness trapped in the four walls. The corners of Jaemin’s lips rise as he starts shifting his body side to side, giving the hug a little more dynamic and comfort as he starts to sing your favourite tune to your ears. His fingers rake across your hair, not minding the whines and complaints you gave about how your hair is disgusting and oily, even pressing a kiss to your scalp to ease your worries. 

Your arms start to find home around his waist and your palm grips the fabric of the shirt even more, feeling eternally thankful for having a loving person in your life. A mutter, “Thank you for all this.” Your voice trails off, eyelids heavy and honestly, quiet snores could leave your lips at any moment now. 

“Always, bubs,” he muses back. “Maybe we can skip the movie night today?” 

The suggestion pulls your lips into a sour smile but you can’t hide the drowsiness in your system after getting small hours of sleep for the past week. “We have food.” But truly, it’s nothing that food can’t fix.

A raised eyebrow meets you when you slightly pull back to see the reaction on Jaemin’s face. “Food and horror movies.”

The shared favourite genre makes you break out into a genuine smile, excited for the movie marathon cuddled up in his bedsheets and the smell of food as you both expose yourself to the light from the computer until the sun replaces the moon. Jaemin watches you excitedly walk back to the door of his room where your bag slumps over on the wall next to the frame. 

“You don’t want to wear mine?” The suggestion is said with a smirk from him and your hands stopping to unzip your bag halfway. “Guess not!”

“No! I do!” You drag the last syllable out and when you turn to face him once more, Jaemin only lets out a teasing smile. “Let me steal!”

Indeed, Jaemin already has everything prepared for you, tilting his chin to his bed where some of his and your favourite hoodies are spread across the duvet. You spot the emerald green one, immediately jumping from your kneeling position on the floor and making the neat pile topple over at your eagerness. 

Jaemin feigns fake offence and an exaggerated gasp, “All my hard work!” He weeps to which you just roll your eyes as a response, continuing to take out your shower and night necessities to prepare for the night. 

“Alright.” A heavy sigh follows after, “I’m going to sho—”

But before you could take another step towards the bathroom, a pair of arms pulls you backwards, your back colliding with a chest that you know all too well. You can’t see the expression on his face but another thing that you know about Jaemin is when he leans down to press his cheek on yours, humming once more into your embrace, his cheeks are painted with hues of red and pink—his love for you overflowing from the simple back hug gesture.

“What you doing, Nana?” It deepens his blush, melting with how the nickname naturally sounds lovelier coming from you.

“Just go brush your teeth and shower in the morning.” He mumbles against your cheek. “I want to go on this movie marathon with you right now.”

“But you hate it the most when someone lays on your bed without washing up.” 

That’s also true. He does hate that a lot. 

The idea of outside germs reaching the place where he would be closing his eyes and be in another space for hours never fails to bring a scowl to his face and he always makes sure everyone who visits his space is aware of that fact.

But it’s you—and Jaemin loves you more to overlook that fact for a day.

“I’m planning on changing the sheets anyway.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “Plus, I literally get grease and pieces of chocolate on there anyways so I think I may need to change my mindset about that rule now…”

The mention of the substances makes you gasp, a similar one to the one he directed at you before. “Na Jaemin!” The playful slap on his arm only makes his hold against your body tighter, sending you both into a fit of laughter.

Amid the chaos you created, Jaemin makes his point clear with the previous topic, throwing himself still clad in his dirty clothes onto his bed and taking you down with him. You yelp at the sudden fall, throwing everything out of your hands to muffle the sound of your mouth, aware of the sleeping couple not too far away from this room. 

“Oops! Gotta change it tomorrow, I guess!”

“Na Jaemin, stop! I’m still going to shower anyway!”

So begins the shoving and wiggling for you to escape his strong grip on his bulky arms. You know shortly after running out of breath that it’s a better choice to rest your head on his pectoral, giving up on both the shower and possibly the movie night. The laughter dies down, but never the love that Jaemin shows for you. On the back of your head, you can feel his thumping heartbeat, the rhythm making your eyelids fall naturally.

Jaemin carefully slides you over to the mattress on his side, turning his body to face the girl he loves the most in this world. His eyelashes flutter quietly, quieter than the humming of the white rectangular machine stuck high onto his wall. He doesn’t bother waking you up, content with the tiny snores you let out through the small gap between your lips.

“And to think you were scolding me minutes ago.” Bopping your ice-cold nose with the pad of his pointer finger. “Okay, at this point you’re going to freeze.”

Though exhausted and body screaming to just fall asleep then and there, Jaemin pulls himself back to the edge of the bed, standing and stretching his four limbs. He quickly retreated to the connecting bathroom, picking up your discarded items that he made you toss to avoid his parents from waking up and scolding the young couple in love—though he knows they will just scold him given how much his parents adore everything about you.

Scared that you would soon wake up in the very uncomfortable posture that you have right now, more than half your feet dangling off the bed, Jaemin swiftly completes his night routine, skipping the one that would make his dentist question his habits but he pushed the thought aside for now. As quiet as he could, he makes his way over to your still peaceful figure. His knees sink into the bed, eyes observing you while he holds his breath to avoid any more unnecessary movements than the ones he’s making right now.

An arm lifts your upper body, and Jaemin quickly jumps behind you. You did stir a bit in your sleep when Jaemin undoes the noisy metal zipper of your jacket but nonetheless, he succeeded without bringing you back into full consciousness. In his head, he imagines himself doing a little celebratory dance under the shining disco ball, all the fluorescent light on him on the dance floor. Then, the same arm is placed on your upper back once more but now paired with his other arm tucked under the back of your knees. You quickly adjusted to the position, Jaemin raising your body high enough for you to relish in the remnants of his cologne on the crook of his neck. 

“I love you, Nana.” You confess to him earnestly. “I love you so much…”

Jaemin stands on one side of the bed, scanning the curves of your face intently as if he has never noticed the small mole on the slope of your nose. He couldn’t fight off the want to steal another kiss from you, bending his neck down to slot his soft ones to hug your plump ones. A satisfied hum is brought out after, Jaemin mirroring your content heart with another lingering press on your forehead.

Soon enough, your body is finally between his bouncy mattress and his weighted polyester. Immediately, your hands roam over to the other side of the bed where Jaemin would usually be, groaning when all you felt was the crinkles of the cotton that is not his shirt.

“Okay, okay. I’m here.” He assures the dissatisfaction painted on your face first by flicking the light switch off and then by wrapping your smaller frame into his own. 

The muscles of your whole body relax for the first time in a while at the thought of going to dreamland—maybe it’s the Jaemin effect. A hand makes its way to the curve of your head, fingertips half-buried into your strands. A slight gush of wind can be felt on your nose but you don’t mind the proximity, even continuing to scoot even closer, pleased with the hand on your lower back that pushes you in closer. 

“Sleep tight.” His eyes landed on the brown bag across the room and his muted laptop that plays your favourite comfort movie. He lets the movie play, strategically moving his forearm to block the blue light emitted. When he confirms that his shadow falls upon your lids, he places the lightest kiss as a final ‘goodnight’. “I love you.”

So maybe, you don’t hate the hot weather as much as you thought.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

[deke-rivers-1957]

ECU High - Danny's Ambition

The alarm clock rings and Danny groans as he gets out of bed.

"Just how *expletive* is this day gonna be?"

There's a knock on his door as he hears his sister Mimi.

"Danny, are you decent?"

He sighs. "Yeah Mimi, Ah'm decent. What's up?"

She comes into his room.

"Daddy says he has to take the car today. Are you gonna be alright to walk to school?"

Danny rubs his eyes.

"Walkin to school's all I do anyway. No reason to waste gas over a mile. Ah'm tellin ya Mimi, if I gotta redo senior again I might as well drop out."

She tries to smile. "Don't drop out Danny. Daddy's still trying to get a pharmacy job. That's why he's taking the car. Mr. Primont called him in for an interview. If he gets the job you can quit and focus on graduating."

He stands up and stretches.

"That'll be the day, sis. Ah really hate havin ta ask the juniors for money. It's embarrassin."

The mood is somber and Danny looks lost.

"Ah just wanna wake up one morning and not gotta worry bout money. I don't wanna have to rely on other people."

She goes over to hug Danny. "I know you feel that way, Danny. You just need to take it one day at a time. Now eat up. I got breakfast waitin for you."

He sighs.

"Alright. Gotta change first. Be right down."

Mimi smiles and leaves the room. After changing, Danny goes down to eat breakfast as fast as he can.

"Ah'll see ya later, Mimi."

He grabs his backpack and starts running to school. As he makes it to the school's parking lot, a rusty old pickup truck pulls in. The engine has a strange sound to it.

"Howdy, feller."

Danny looks up.

"Oh hey, Jodie. Hell's up with yer engine?"

Jodie shuts it off and gets out. "Ah dang carburetor's done actin up. Gotta find somethin worth replacin it. Ol gal's goin on 50 so's Ah gotta keep 'er runnin."

Danny looks at the truck. "Ya going to the junkyard with Mike?"

Jodie grabs his books.

"Yeah Mike's ride done lost 'er fender. We's goin ta mah job fer parts."

He stops at the stairs. "Danneh ya got wood shop 1st period?"

Danny looks at his schedule. "Let's see. Nah I got wood shop 2nd period. What classes do ya need to pass this year to graduate?"

Jodie laughs a little and looks down.

"Math, science and readin. Mr. Wade tol me Ah gotta do good ta stay on the wrasslin team. Says he'll kick mah ass if Ah done keep failin and gotta repeat a year."

Danny sighs. "Dunno how you plan on doin that man. We're all idiots ta be able to tutor anyone."

The first bell rings.

"Ah'll be seein ya feller faster than Ah done load a shotgun." Jodie says as he heads inside.

Danny heads to the gym but almost gets hit by a car.

"Dammit Mike ya almost hit Danny."

Mike smiles as he parks.

"Ah yer just worried bout your insurance rates Mikey. "

Mikey (short for Mike Windgren) glares.

"No *expletive* I'm worried Mike! I don't want my Saturn to kill someone!"

"Well Ah didn't so don't get yer panties in a twist. Now let's go before we're late."

Mikey groans.

"Sorry ta almost hit you Danny."

Danny keeps going to the gym.

"Hey Guy are you lookin for someone?"

A boy on the football field turns to look at Danny.

"Yeah that *expletive* Mike skipped band practice today! How're we supposed to set a good example to the freshmen if we ain't all here?!"

Danny sighs. "Well go yell at 'em when ya see 'em Guy. He'll probably show up when he feels like it."

"Yeah well he better! Ah'm not bout to have our drummers be outta formation because that *expletive* decided not ta practice!"

Danny shakes his head and makes it to the gym.

A whirring sound is heard as a small helicopter lands. A young man steps out with a girl on his arm.

"And that's how ya land!"

She looks amazed.

"Oh wow, Rick that's so amazing. How many more hours do you need to be able to teach me for real?"

He gives her a cocky grin.

"Only 20. Maybe if yer willin to wait a couple months I can teach ya."

Her eyes widen.

"Wow I'd like that! I'll see you around then, Rick."

He gives a thumbs up. "You know it baby."

Danny rolls his eyes.

"How many demonstrations is that now, Rick?"

He laughs. "Oh Danny. Don't ya get that it's good for my social life? I get to put my hours in while getting some babes. I see that as an absolute win."

Danny starts walking again. "Whatever Rick."

He makes his way to the gym when he sees his friend.

"Oh hey Ross!"

Ross turns around.

"Danny good ta see you! Still tryna make ends meet. How 'bout you?" he asks smiling.

Danny looks down. "Same boat. Pa's gonna have an interview today so fingers crossed."

Ross rubs his eyes. "Least there's a light at the end of the tunnel for ya. I gotta find a better job that'll pay more. Buc-ee's just ain't enough to pay the bills."

"I hear ya, Ross. Being a busboy at 2 nightclubs ain't a good paycheck either."

A whistle is blown. "Awright ya *expletive* line up!"

Everyone lines up when they hear Mr. Wade's voice. No one messes with him.

As Mr. Wade makes his opening year speech about gym class Danny's mind starts to wander.

"All Ah want is ta make it through the year. If Ah can jus make 'nough money, Ah can buy back our house. Pa ain't ever gonna be embarrassed ever 'gain."

Tag list: @vintagepresley, @thetaoofzoe, @ashtag6887, @whitepontiac, @tupelomiss, @richardslady121, @just-another-boring-bisexual, @aliengoth3, @phil2135561, @gayforelvis, @ash-omalley, @eptodaytommorwforever, @mercsandmonsters, @wildhorseinkansas, @alienelvisobsession, @comebackep, @presley72elvis, @leopardandstuds, @ellie-24, @heart-of-ep, @thatbanditqueen, @be-my-ally, @arrolyn1114, @xanatenshi, @jaqueline19997, @vintagegirl50s60s70s80s, @j-v-9-2, @mydarlingelvis, @almightybigbrain, @pinkcaddyconfessions, @miniaturerunawaykid, @myradiaz, and @msamarican.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Our apartment is through a management company. It's usually fine. The last several months, we've had issues with them 1) actually sending out maintenance, and 2) not fixing our fucking floor.

Our floor was put in during the Fall of 2022 after the fucking flood of June 2022. For the entire summer, we walked around on the original concrete floor of our renovated 100-year-old basement apartment.

Management company swore the problem was that the property owner was dragging his feet.

I'd met the property owner several times as he'd come to inspect the damage and understand what he needed to do as owner, since it would be his insurance covering things. I thought he was an asshole.

The new floor went in. We moved home. A few weeks later, I noticed a space between the boards in the kitchen. I debated calling the management company, then went, "I'm in no fucking mood" and threw a rug over it.

I'm not a professional, but I know bits and pieces of home shit. I figured, with the weather cooling, the vinyl boards were shifting a bit, and it'd either stay the same or just slip back together at some point.

And then the rest of the floor started buckling.

I put a maintenance request in. A guy came out, took one look at the floor, and went, "Oh, yeah, I know what's happening." He took photos. He pushed back together what boards he could, and he left.

Nothing for about a week, then a call. The owner wants to come out and look. I sighed and agreed. He came out and brought along his wife, the maintenance guy who'd come before, and our property management contact.

He was NOT PLEASED. His wife's job that day, very obviously to me, was to get my real impression of the management company while the owner asked some questions about why it was taking a week to even update me on next steps?

I told the wife, "We've never had a real problem with maintenance. Stuff's always gotten fixed."

"Have you needed it often?" she asked.

"Nope," I said because it was true.

When the whole apartment was getting torn up after the flood, the demo guy was 1) great and 2) informed me that all the finishes in the apartment were commonly used but also the high-end version. Yeah, they were all particle board and vinyl and what have you. But they were the top-notch versions of everything. I remembered thinking, "Wow, the dude who renovated this place gave a real shit."

We have not heard word one from anyone at the management company about our floor since around October. We have heard from the owner and his wife on a few occasions, calling to see if the next step of the plans had happened. Which is how I found out there were plans. Our contact at the management company (with 16 years experience, something she mentioned when she sent out her intro email at her hiring) had not given me any information.

A couple of weeks ago, our kitchen turned into a tiny swamp. There was water coming up through the fucked up floorboards. A pipe had frozen upstairs a couple of days before. There were four inches of glaze ice over everything.

We called the management company. We got an email back: "We are confirming with the owner how he wants to proceed."

I started cursing the owner's name up and down.

And then he showed up that night. In the ice and the snow. With it pouring sleet (literally pouring sleet). I thought he was being a control freak.

He looked at things, said, "I'll have to turn the water off." And then went upstairs to check on things there. He came back a few minutes later, needing to try and find the shut off. We couldn't locate it down here, either. He shut it off at the street, then took Sean out and showed him how to use the tool to turn it on and off.

"It's a very slow leak," he told us. "If you don't mind mopping up water when it comes up, you can turn the water on for short periods of time."

Two days with no water. The ice continued not to melt. I fell on the dog walk and slid into the side of a car (nothing serious). The owner showed up again when the roads were still barely passable. He had the leak fixed and the water back in by the end of the day. He apologized for the delay. He left the wall open so things could dry, and came back the next day to check things again.

He started to grow on me. He knows his shit. He works quietly. He tries to be as unobtrusive as possible. I sent my regards to his wife, for which he thanked me.

During these few days, I'm getting sporadic emails from the management company basically rehashing everything that had happened that day. Even though I'd heard him call them and explain things to them within half an hour of showing up each day.

So, they were in the loop.

And, yes, so were we.

But there's a way to do these things.

And acting like it's all brand new information to you when the email gets to me at six, after he's left again after apologizing for getting some mud on the floor because he's been in and out not only fixing the leak but also beating the shit out of the four inches of glaze ice with a shovel so he can clear the sidewalk for us. Which is one of those technical requirements that I don't expect of any owner or management company when it's below freezing multiple days in a row in a city where that does not happen regularly. Like, the official city policy during the weather was "please stay the fuck inside."

The contractors came to put the wall back together. The owner showed up to properly introduce them, then left them to it. They did good work as far as I could tell.

I've heard nothing from the management company for several days, and I continue to be very unimpressed by their current actions. Which is just additional unimpressed feelings since October when I got a call from the wife saying, "Did the contractor come out to measure?"

"Measure?"

"For the replacement floor."

"No, Ma'am," I said, not knowing until this phone call that a contractor had even been signed. "Last I heard anything was when the inspector came out."

"Did the company contact you about them?"

"Yes, but then the inspector didn't show the day he was supposed to, and we didn't hear why. He did show up a couple of days later."

The kind of pause you only get from a woman who knows how to use her powers for politeness, smoothing ruffled feathers, and fucking murdering someone. "I see. Okay. Thank you."

"I've worked on a lot of floors," the contractor told me yesterday as he wiped down all the places drywall dust and paste had gotten (everywhere; including the bottom of Bean's foot I discovered this morning). "You're definitely gonna need new floor where the leak was."

"Oh, yeah," I said, with a wave. "We need the whole thing replaced, actually. It's in work."

"Yeah, I noticed it was bubbling," the contractor says. "Not surprising. This is the cheapest vinyl floor you can get."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I've worked with the owner for years. I'm surprised he approved this."

About a week after the wife last called me, we got a letter in the mail from the owner. It read, in part:

...please copy us in all emails to the management company. We want to be fully aware when issues arise so they can be handled as quickly as possible...

Given all current evidence, I am beginning to suspect the problem was NOT the owner but the management company. As I have never worked in property management, I don't know who decides things like which flooring. However, having watched the owner over this last couple of weeks, I suspect the management company picked the flooring and the contractor to do it and the "dragging on" issue was the owner pushing for better quality.

I'm not sure. What I am sure of is that the owner was here today to paint the repaired wall and a strip of ceiling that has gone unfixed by the management company since before we told them the floor news.

I have been beyond happy with the speed of things with the owner in charge of repairs, and I've come to appreciate his dedication to keeping our place in good kit. He is proud of this place and wants it to show. He wants high-quality and good craftsmanship.

He also ended up not painting because the ceiling repair doesn't have the right texture when the lights are off. He is coming back tomorrow morning with the contractor so it gets done to his liking. "It can be difficult to match the texture of sheet rock," he told me. Having watched him work these past couple of weeks, I know he wants it done to a high standard that I appreciate as the tenant.

On the other hand. What an asshole.

[adaratrixie]

Poetry & Blood Chapter 1: The Initiate

By Trixie Adara 

Laura held the advertisement in her shaking hand. 

“You have to be kidding me.” 

This was the address the secretary had sent her to. It was a massive estate, at least four stories tall and almost as large as a city block. In the middle of downtown Memphis? That didn’t make any freaking sense. 

Laura checked the ad again:

WANTED: English major. Experience with editing and copy editing. Female. Experience with romantic fiction, reading or writing. Must be able to read poetry with emphasis, clarity, skill, and accuracy. 

She found it on her old college campus on a bulletin board. It was dark purple with a picture of “The Purpose and the Passion,” by Camille K, a successful romance writer. She wrote mostly fluff, stories of overly buff and wealthy men pursuing strong and independent women. It made money, but it wasn’t the Next Great American Novel. 

Laura had assumed she’d be working for Camille, though the ad wasn’t clear. What she hadn’t assumed was that Camille K lived in a giant estate in the middle of downtown. It looked like a library or a cathedral. It was oddly Victorian, standing out against the modern and concrete aesthetic around. Not many buildings from that time period were downtown, and even fewer had survived a giant fire from the early 1900’s. 

Laura shivered. The building wasn’t just impressive. Impressive was a word you used for skyscrapers and giant arches. This was intimidating. Camille K, her new boss, had somehow managed not only to live here, but to afford living here all while writing dressed-up smut. It was entirely possible Laura was way, way over her head. 

Laura approached the door and looked for a doorbell. It didn’t have one. All it had was a giant knocker attached to a lion’s face like a nose ring through the lion’s nostril. It was heavy, dark black iron. The circle itself must have weighed ten pounds. Laura pounded away with it and waited. 

Eventually, a tiny blonde woman, she looked to be no more than thirty, with a cute pixie haircut appeared. She wasn’t in a maid’s uniform, though Laura must admit she expected a maid from the 1800’s to appear. The woman was in a simple sleeveless white blouse and a black pencil skirt. There was nothing eye-catching or extraordinary about her, really. 

“Can I help you?” she asked. 

“Uh, hi. My name is Laura Delazier. I got hired for the copy editing job?” 

Laura had assumed it was a copy editing job. She’d be plundering Camille K’s predictable plots and painful dialogue for typos. But she needed a job. The world wasn’t desperate for English majors unless you wanted to be a teacher. Laura wanted to be a writer, but first she needed to find a story worth telling. She was still looking for it. 

Unfortunately, her landlord wouldn’t take that reason for rent. Neither would her grocery store, her student loans, her phone bill, her insurance, nor gas for her car. No one wanted aspirational stories. They wanted money. Camille K had enough money for a mansion, and apparently, enough money to help out lowly English majors only a few months out of school. 

“Copy editing job?” asked the woman. 

Laura held up the ad. The woman scrunched her nose to try and read the ad, then took it from Laura. As she read, her face relaxed. 

“Ooooo, the assistant job.” 

“Assistant?” 

“Oh, yes. Come right this way Miss Delazier.” The woman disappeared into the estate, and Laura followed. She turned around to make sure the door was closed behind them, then scampered after the short blonde.

As soon as she stepped inside, she wanted to pause and gawk. There was a grand staircase that wound all the way up to the fourth floor, and maybe even the roof. There were three different hallways to choose from. The building was rich with dark wood and pale marble that made Laura feel dirty, clumsy, and poor all at once. 

But Laura didn’t have time to investigate closely. The blonde was fast, and Laura had no idea where she was taking her. She lost track of all the turns they take. They seemed to go up a side flight of stairs, and then down another flight of stairs. One floor had a garden in the middle of it, and another floor had a grand dining room. 

“Am I getting the tour?” asked Laura. 

“Sort of,” said the blonde without turning around. “Miss K is in a meeting. It’s a moving meeting, and I’m to make sure they don’t see you or me. Hence, the roundabout course. 

“I’m not going to Miss K?” 

“You’ll meet with her shortly. For now, I’m taking you to her primary assistant.” 

“She has multiple assistants?” 

The blonde stopped abruptly, and Laura almost slammed into her. She turned and gave Laura a look of disappointment and amusement. “Miss K employs a research assistant, a personal assistant, a primary assistant, and now you, an editing assistant. Not to mention: me, two other housekeepers, a personal cook, several lawyers, an accountant, and a personal trainer. Her primary assistant oversees all of us.” 

“And she’s the one who  -” 

“Hired you. Will pay you. And will direct you. You’ll spend most of your time with her.” 

The blonde turned back around and led on. They went up to the fourth floor - Laura’s calves were killing her - and came to a glass door. Behind that glass door was a beautiful office that had giant windows overlooking the waterfront of the Mississippi River. 

Sitting at the desk, was an elegant Asian woman. She wore a flowing pantsuit that looked like it came off the runway in Paris. The legs flared a little below the knee, but were tight at the thigh. The neckline of the jacket was plunging, but the woman wore a simple white blouse underneath. She had long and straight black hair, going to her lower back. She looked to be only a little older than the blonde, in her mid or late thirties. She stood as she saw them round the corner and opened the door for them. 

“Hello,” she said. “You must be Miss Delazier.” 

“Please, call me Laura.” Laura extended her hand and shook Miss Lancaster’s. 

“I’m Lucy Lancaster, I’m Miss K’s primary assistant. We spoke on the phone.” 

“Yes,” said Laura. 

Everyone stood awkwardly outside Miss Lancaster’s office. Miss Lancaster and the blonde had some type of conversation with their eyes, and Laura tried to avoid eye-contact entirely. 

“Is Miss K still with the -” 

“Yes,” said the blonde quickly. 

“Good.” Miss Lancaster turned to Laura. “Come on in, Laura. Let me tell you more about the position.” Miss Lancaster turned to enter her office, but Laura turned to the blonde. 

“What was your name? I’m sorry, but I never got it.” 

The blonde blushed and smiled. “I’m Angelica.” 

“Thank you for showing me around, Angelica. I appreciate it.” Laura held out her hand to shake the blonde’s, but Angelic curtsied instead, and walked away. Laura turned and entered Miss Lancaster’s office. 

Miss Lancaster was in the wrong job. The woman belonged on Wall Street or in Washington. Her talent, intelligence, and composure were wasted working as the staff manager for a romance writer. Laura respected her immediately, but was too intimidated to like her. She wanted to like her. Laura wanted to like everyone. But Miss Lancaster made her feel stupid and foolish for being an English major. She disapproved of Laura’s tiny writing credentials. She kept saying “we can make that work,” and everytime she said it, Laura died a little inside. 

Laura’s job was to be feedback and copy editing for Miss K. Apparently, Miss K often gets stuck on story ideas. She needs help finding inspiration. She needs someone to bounce ideas off of. And yes, Laura will need to go over Miss K’s writing at the end of each day, line by line, to check for grammar, spelling, and inconsistencies in the text. 

“What about the poetry reading part?” asked Laura. 

“Miss K likes to have poetry read to her. It moves and inspires her.” 

“Sure,” shrugged Laura. Whatever Miss K wanted, Miss K was going to get. 

Miss Lancaster sighed and pushed back her chair. “Now comes the unpleasantness of this meeting.” She opened a drawer a pulled out a one-inch-thick stack of paper. She dropped it onto the table in front of Laura. 

“Unpleasantness?” squeaked Laura. 

“Unfortunately.” 

“What’s this?” asked Laura. 

“This is a Non-Disclosure Agreement, or NDA. It is a legal document binding you to privacy, secrecy, and confidentiality while under the employ of Miss Camille Kontalban.” 

“Kontalban?” 

“Doesn’t roll off the tongue, does it?” said Miss Lancaster with a smile. 

“Not quite.” 

“Hence, Miss K.” 

“Right.” 

Miss Lancaster flipped through the pages and explained them as best she could to Laura. Laura couldn’t tell people things that were happening in Miss K’s books. She couldn’t talk about Miss K’s process or methods. She couldn’t reveal Miss K’s creative or inspirational process. She couldn’t reveal Miss K’s lifestyle or homelife. In short, she couldn’t talk about Miss K in anyway to anybody outside Miss K’s employ unless she wanted an avalanche of legal troubles.

“Should I have a lawyer read over this?” asked Laura when Miss Lancaster was finished. 

“You can if you want to. It’s pretty straightforward, though.” 

“It’s a lot. And it’s … scary.” 

“We’re not trying to scare you. We’re trying to protect Miss K.” 

Laura sighed. “Where do I sign?” 

“That-a-girl.” Miss Lancaster flipped to several spots, and Laura signed at each of them. 

“One last thing,” said Miss Lancaster when they were finished. “And unfortunately, this was not in the add.” Laura went cold. “We insist that while you are in Miss K’s employ, since you will be working so intimately with her, that you should live in the manor.” 

Laura’s mouth dropped. “In the manor?” 

“Yes,” said Miss Lancaster. She chewed on her pen, nervously. “Is that alright?” 

“You mean, I have to move out of my crappy apartment to live in a mansion with a greenhouse, a ballroom, a grand staircase, and and and …” 

“A swimming pool?” suggest Miss Lancaster. 

“This place has a pool?!” squealed Laura. 

Miss Lancaster grinned and nodded. “And a gym. And a hot tub. And a spa.” 

“Holy shit,” whispered Laura. Then she gasped and covered her mouth. She blushed with embarrassment. 

Miss Lancaster laughed. “Holy shit, indeed.” She seemed to relax and sat back down at her desk across from Laura. “I take it you’re not upset by this?” 

“Am I allowed to leave when I want?” asked Laura. 

“Of course. It’s just easier for everyone if you’re nearby in case Miss K writes in a fevered passion at five in the morning.” 

Laura shrugged. “Fair enough.” It certainly beat paying rent. She’d also get to cancel her membership to the gym? What might have been the sketchiest ad for an English major in history, may have turned out to be her luckiest break. 

“I’ll have a full write up on the routines for the house: when meals are served, laundry, guests, etc.” 

“Great,” said Laura. 

Miss Lancaster stood and extended her hand. Laura stood and shook it. “Graumann will show you to your room.” Miss Lancaster pointed behind Laura. There, on the other side of the glass door, was a man in a white button-down shirt, a black tie, and black pants. 

“Um …” started Laura. 

“Yes?” 

“When will I meet Miss K?” 

“Ah, yes,” said Miss Lancaster. “Each night, Miss K has what she calls a Muse Session. You will meet her there tonight to start. It will be after dinner.” 

“Not until then?” 

“No. And let me make this clear,” Miss Lancaster’s smile faded, “you are not to harass or bother Miss K. You should not go near her office, her study, or her quarters. She will ask for you when she wants you. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” said Laura. 

“Good,” said Miss Lancaster. “Grauman?” she asked to the man behind Laura. He opened the door for Laura and gestured for her to exit. She followed him. 

“What kind of name is Grauman?” asked Laura as they climbed down the stairs to the second floor, the one floor Angelica had made her skip. 

“My name,” he said in a thick European accent. German maybe? 

“Right, but where is it from?” 

“My mother gave it to me.” 

Right, thought Laura. Angelica nice. Lancaster scary. Grauman might be crazy or stupid. Got it. 

Grauman was surprisingly young for a butler, or whatever the hell he was. He seemed to be in his late twenties, the closest to Laura’s age of anyone she’s seen so far. He had thick hair that was parted to one side and slicked with something. It was a dark brown to match his dark eyes. Laura didn’t ask him anymore questions. 

When they arrived at her room, Grauman held out his hand. Laura stared at it.

“Oh, um,” she reached into her pocket. “Am I supposed to give you a tip?” 

“No,” snorted Grauman. “Your key.” 

“My key?” asked Laura. 

“To go and get your things. Yes, your key.” 

“Oooo,” said Laura. “The key to my apartment. Right. Sure. Here.” She took the key off the keyring and handed it to him. In turn, he handed her a key. 

“This will open your room, your bathroom, and the front door of the house. After midnight, the house has an alarm. You do not get to know the code.” 

“Okay, but -” 

Grauman turned around and stomped off. 

“Guess I’ll figure that out later,” muttered Laura. She turned around to inspect her room. 

It was gorgeous. And spacious. Room isn’t the right word. It was a suite. Laura had a small kitchen, a seating area for guests, and large four-poster bed. She’d seen rooms like this in movies or on television, but she never thought she’d get to sleep in one, let alone live in one. 

She squealed when she found her bathroom. It was huge. It had two full length mirrors, a shower, and a bathtub large enough for her to lay down, sprawl out, and share. 

Not that she’d shared a bath with anyone ever, but she now she could if she wanted to. Well, she wanted to, but if someone else wanted to, now they could. 

After completely freaking out about how incredible her amenities were, Laura went to explore the house. No one had told her she couldn’t, but she felt nervous that she might accidentally bump into Miss K or go into some forbidden section of the house. 

Luckily, she wasn’t ten feet out of her room before Angelica found her. 

“Lost?’ chirped the blonde from behind her. 

Laura turned around and smiled. “Unfortunately.” 

“It takes time to get used to.” 

“I mostly don’t want to accidentally bump into Miss K. Miss Lancaster made it sound like she’d bite my head off.” 

Angelica giggled. “Oh, I certainly don’t think she’d do that. Miss Lancaster is overprotective of Miss K. She wants to make sure nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing, interferes with Miss K’s creative process. None of us get paid if Miss K can’t write.” 

“Makes sense,” said Laura. 

“Anyways, I can explain the house to you like this: fourth quarter is entirely business related. There are offices, like Miss Lancasters’, meeting rooms, etc. Your office will be up there.” 

Laura nodded, but inwardly she jumped up and down, screamed, fist pumped, and danced. Her own office? She had her own office and her own apartment and a swimming pool and a gym and a personal chef and …. Her own office?! She needed to get into romance novels ASAP. Apparently the pay is to die for. 

“The third floor is for used for a variety of things. I showed you the gardens. That’s also where you can find the gym. There’s also the movie theater. It’s recreational, I guess.” 

A movie theater?! 

“The first floor is for entertainment. That is where the primary dining rooms, ballrooms, and guest rooms are. If we host as a party, which we don’t do too much anymore, it will stay on the first floor. The second floor is the residence. The east wing is for staff, like us, and the west wing is entirely for Miss K. Her office and suite all occupy that space. Once you come to the double burgundy doors, you’re entering into her space. Stay away from the doors, and Miss K will be left in peace. If she finds you in the garden, you’ll have nothing to fear from her.” 

Laura nodded. Double Burgundy Doors are the point of no return. Got it. 

“I’ll go through those doors tonight, though, right?” 

“Hmmm?” asked Angelica, turning around. “Oh, yes. For the Muse Session. Yes, those will happen in her suite tonight. Yes.” 

“Where are we heading now?” 

“I want to make sure you meet all the staff.” 

Angelica took Laura all around the house (there were so many stairs! Her thighs burned!). She met the personal chef, a man named Jacques. Angelica said he only spoke French. The other housekeeper was a curvy redhead named Nikki. She had an adorable Southern accent. Miss K’s personal assistant was a mousy girl with thick and large glasses named Erika. She wore a thick sweater and scarf even in the depth of a Memphis summer. Those were the only staff that lived in the house. Miss K kept the “non-essential” assistants worked “off site,” normally from their homes. 

Laura had dinner with Erika. Nikki waited on them. Erika said nothing, but Nikki talked her ear off. Apparently, she had only been working here a week or two. Miss K felt things were being missed and wanted an additional maid at all times to help out Angelica. 

Nikki was sweet. She reminded Laura of her roommate, Claire. Both girls were extremely extroverted and had no issues sharing any bit of personal information. Laura learned that Nikki didn’t have a boyfriend, but she went out several times a week to find “a nice gentleman to ride.” 

Laura blushed like she used to do with Claire. Where Laura grew up, people didn’t talk that way. They pretended they never had sex at all. Sex was what whores and prostitutes had. Respectable people made love, at best. 

But Claire helped Laura mellow out. Claire liked to tell Laura who she had recently hooked up with and gave her explicit details about it. Laura learned that Claire went to clubs to explore her kinks and fetishes. Laura followed Claire two or three times on these expeditions, out of curiosity. The clubs were strange and hot. People were pushy or needy. It was too intense for her. It was no different than going to a wild pride parade. Yes, people were celebrating their sexuality. No, Laura didn’t want to participate. Yes, she could be around them and not freak out. 

That was precisely what was on Laura’s mind as she pushed through the Double Burgundy Doors to Miss K’s side of the second floor. Laura noticed immediately that the air was staler here, stuffier, almost thicker. It felt like Angelica and Nikki had not dusted here in years. Which is strange considering the fact that if Laura was a housekeeper, she’d make sure the area around her boss’ room was the cleanest of all. 

Nevertheless, Laura wandered through the hallways, looking for Miss K’s suite. Luckily, Miss Lancaster found her and led her to the right door. Laura hesitated before entering. She’d barely heard of Camille Kontalban a day ago. She hadn’t read a single book by the woman, nor would she read her books if they were given to her. But now she’d seen the house and the staff. The woman must be made of money. And ambition. What kind of woman was she? 

Miss Lancaster pushed open the door and revealed an empty suite. “She’ll be in her bedroom,” said the tall asian woman as she stepped past Laura. 

“Her bedroom?” asked Laura. 

“Yes.” 

“What are we going to do in her bedroom?” Laura raised an eyebrow at Miss Lancaster. The woman smiled and waved off Laura. 

“I’ll admit, this will be the strange part. But she writes in a highly sexualized genre for women who want steamy sex scenes with gorgeous men.” 

Laura blushed and looked down at her shoes.

“But you won’t be doing anything sexual,” said Miss Lancaster, raising her voice as she caught how her words sounded. “I promise.” 

Laura looked up. “Oh,” she whispered. 

“I promise. We’d have mentioned that in the ad or in a contract or something. There may be sexual things going on around you, but you will not be asked to do anything you’re uncomfortable with and nothing sexual.” 

“What kind of sexual things?” asked Laura. Were they going to watch porn together? 

“That’s hard to explain,” said Miss Lancaster. “It will be easier to show you.” 

Miss Lancaster reached for Laura’s hand, but Laura pulled back. “Wait. Before we go in there, tell me what I’ll be doing. Exactly.” 

Miss Lancaster sighed and looked at her watch. “You will be asked to read a poem for Miss Lancaster while she is … serviced.” 

“Serviced?” asked Laura. 

“Yes.” 

“And by serviced you mean …” led Laura. 

“Yes,” nodded Miss Lancaster. “Exactly what you think I’m hinting at.” 

“She wants me to read poetry while this happens?” 

“Exactly.” 

“That’s why the ad wanted me to be able to read poetry well?” 

“Exactly,” sighed Miss Lancaster. She looked at her watch again. “Are you ready? We really can’t be late.” 

“Wait,” said Laura, lifting her hand to Miss Lancaster. “I’m trying to figure out how I feel about this.” 

Miss Lancaster stepped forward. Laura almost jumped back, but held her own. “Miss Delazier,” she said with iron in her voice. “You will be paid handsomely. You will edit her work, while having little editing experience yourself. You will copy edit her work while having literally no experience doing copy editing. You will give her feedback on a genre you know little of. You will have access to this home and all its amenities. And you get all this, despite your low qualifications, precisely because Miss K likes the way you read poetry. It is for that you were hired. If you won’t do this, we will be forced to dismiss you. Is that clear?” 

Laura thought about all the magical perks of this job. This is the catch. Of course, there’s a catch. It was too good to be true. In order to keep the job, she’d have to participate in Miss K’s bizarre inspirational sex acts. 

Well, not really participate. It was just reading poetry, right? She’d recorded poems and read them publicly hundreds of times. Sure, it was weird. But it was just reading. What bad could come from reading a poem?

Laura nodded. “That’s clear.” 

“You’ll do as your told?” snapped Miss Lancaster. 

“I’ll read the poem,” said Laura. “But that’s all I’ll do.” 

“Good.” Miss Lancaster gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” She smiled at Laura, and Laura smiled back, though she didn’t know why. But Miss Lancaster didn’t linger. She stepped ahead of Laura and opened the door to Miss K’s bedroom. 

Inside, candles were lit all around. There was no lamp of any kind. In fact, Laura didn’t think she saw a single electronic thing. No alarm clock. No television. No stereo. No phone charger. Nothing. There weren’t even outlets for electricity to get into the room. There were no windows, but there were two doors to the far corner. One was to a bathroom, where Laura could see shadows moving inside. The other was closed. 

In the room were Grauman and Jacques. They both had unbuttoned their shirts considerable and taken off their ties. Laura admired their physique. Before, they looked like simple servants or businessmen. Now, she could see that their muscles were taut. Their shirts were constricting. They were strong and young. Laura could imagine their abs beneath their shirts. She wondered if they ever modelled for the covers of Miss K’s books. She felt herself flush with desire or embarrassment, she wasn’t sure which. 

Neither Grauman or Jacques said anything to her. They barely noticed her. It gave Laura the chance to balance herself and adjust to her surroundings. The room was filled with the scent of candle smoke. Things felt surreal and thick. Laura wandered forward and caught herself on a stool near the door. On it, was a book. It was titled Poems by Marcilla. The book had a brown cover. It was old. The pages were thick and yellowing. Laura opened it and flipped through it. It looked as though the words were transcribed by hand in old ink. The script was flowing in beautiful calligraphy. How old was it? Laura felt she was holding a piece of history, but she’d never heard of Marcilla. 

Laura looked up when she heard ruffling in the bathroom. A woman Laura had never seen, in similar clothes to Nikki and Angelica, scampered out of the bathroom and past Laura, almost knocking her over. Laura looked behind her to watch the woman go, but there was a sound from the bathroom. Laura turned to see the light come off and a woman who could be none other than Miss K stepped out. 

Laura didn’t know what she imagined Miss K would look like. Perhaps she imagined some mousy bookworm that spent all day writing fantasies with men she would never have. Perhaps Miss K was an elderly woman: wiry, twiggy, and fragile. Silvered and ancient. But Laura never expected Miss K to look younger than her. It couldn’t be possible. Miss K had been publishing for ten years or so, but the woman that stepped out of the bathroom looked like she stepped off of a college campus. 

Miss K was pale. Paler than pale. Pale women were cream. Miss K was snow. Her skin almost glowed in the dark room. Her hair was dark and curly, falling over her shoulders in waves. She was neither tall nor short. She wore a thin gold robe parted down the middle. Laura’s eyes were drawn to Miss K’s plump breasts and her ghostly nipples beneath. Laura’s eyes went to the floor, following the length of Miss K’s body. Miss K’s bush was absent, and two smooth and bare lips teased and embarrassed Laura. 

But despite her impressive body, it was Miss K’s stride that struck Laura. She took small steps, carefully swinging each foot in front of the other before lifting a leg. Her hips swayed from the effort, but her feet moved in a perfect line. One foot swung out in front of another. There was a breath. Then the other foot swung out in front of the first. And decorating Miss K’s feet were a pair of bright blue heels. At the sound of their click on the wooden floor, Grauman and Jacques stood at attention for Miss K. Laura forgot about the missing maid, the ancient book, the hairless pussy, and everything else. 

Miss K commanded the room. 

“Laura,” she said with a smile. She reached out both hands for Laura to take, as though they were old friends about to embrace. Laura hesitated, but stepped forward and took both of Miss K’s hands in each of hers. 

“I’m so happy you could join us here,” said Miss K. Her voice was heavy and thick, as though it were coming from underground, or through a veil. But it was pleasant and inviting. Laura liked her instantly and smiled despite the situation. 

“I’m honored to be here, Miss K.” 

Miss K laughed and threw her arms wide, releasing Laura’s hands. Her robe billowed and Laura saw more of her naked body, her glowing skin, her rolling flesh. 

“Please,” she laughed. “You’ve seen me naked. The least you can do is call me Camille.” 

Laura smiled. “Of course, Camille. Thank you for inviting me into your … process.” Laura tried not to sound judgemental with the last word, but she knew Grauman and Jacques weren’t here for moral support. 

“It is a strange one,” admitted Camille with a shrug. “But it’s worked so far,” she spread her arms again and gestured to the entire estate, her entire writing career. “After this, my mind will be brimming with stories and words and sensations to put into my characters.” She stepped towards Laura and whispered, “and thus my readers.” She winked, and Laura found herself smiling again. 

“But, let’s get to it.” Camille stepped away and clapped her hands. “Laura, darling, all you have to do is sit on that stool and read those poems. The words and the boys will do the rest.” Camille gestured to the poems Laura had found already. “Start at the beginning. There is a bit of a narrative to it all.” 

Laura was about to ask about the author and the book, but Camille shrugged out of her robe. Grauman picked it up and carried it into the bathroom. Camille sat on the edge of the bed, turned, and faced Laura. Jacques went around the bed and sat next to Camille, facing away from Laura. He held a silver bowl, and in it was a flash of black and red. He extended his hand, and Laura saw a chocolate-covered strawberry. He lowered it, and Camille bit into it. Rivulets of red juice dribbled down her lips and her neck. Laura blushed and looked away. 

Grauman came back from the bathroom without the robe. He stood in front of the bed, between Laura and Camille, and sank to his knees. Laura finally figured out that he was going to eat out Camille while Jacques fed her strawberries. 

All while Laura read her poetry. 

Grauman lowered himself to Camille’s flawless pussy. He began with long licks. Camille shivered, but she didn’t pay him any more attention than that. Instead, she caught the dripping strawberry juice as it slipped between her breasts. She licked her fingers and motioned for Jacques to feed her another bite. 

She went back to college, back to Claire and the orgies and the kink clubs. She’d seen someone eaten out before. It was strange, asking her to participate with poetry, but no stranger than people dressing up like animals to have sex. 

All she had to do was focus on the poems, the words. 

She could do that. She could do words for days. 

She opened the book. There was no table of contents. No publishing or copyright information. The first page began with a poem, like someone’s personal journal. Laura read: 

The Yawn

Across the hall gather the women,

Each watching their husband, 

Each daring him to dance with

Each strategic tittle of breast. 

But Miss Laura Karnstein

Turns her head and yawns. 

Her unadorned neck grows tight, 

Then sags with parted lips, 

Her mouth wide with boredom. 

Laura looked up at Camille. Her mind ran over the name. Laura? The poem is about a Laura? Coincidence? It must be a coincidence. Laura is a popular enough name. But odder than that was the poem itself. This is what she wanted to read? And a poem about a yawn? Again, Laura wondered at the age of the text. Tittle? That’s an old word. This is what Miss K wanted to listen to while she was serviced by her two strapping employees? Laura watched Grauman as he went deeper into Camille’s pussy. His tongue gave long and deep strokes. Camille’s lips were bright red from strawberries. Her chin, neck, and the top of her breasts were also faintly pink. 

Laura shrugged and continued: 

But her porcelain skin catches me. 

The length of her thin neck, 

The pale skin masking 

So much red life, so much 

Thrumming potential, 

But she passes it on 

As yet another yawn. 

I look for Mr. Karnstein, 

But he is neither in Miss Karnstein’s eye

Nor among the men. 

He must be a yawn, 

Missing the twitch in her 

Pulsing throat, 

The brazen sign of desire 

For more than this,

Camille moaned. Laura looked up again. Camille’s eyes were open. She was staring at Laura. Jacques offered her another strawberry, but she shook her head. She ran her hand through Grauman’s hair. Camille kept her eyes locked on Laura and moaned again, tilting her head back, but never looking away. Laura blushed and kept reading: 

More than traditional dances. 

She pulls away, and I follow. 

I see the vein of her neck shiver, 

And I join it. The first twitch 

Of game before it runs; she rises 

To excuse herself, 

As though it possible, 

As though a resting note, 

A caesura, 

May be 

pardoned 

or ignored. 

Laura paused again. A line break like that wasn’t conventional for the time period. That’s a visual element of a poem, saved mostly for the early 1900s. She felt tempted to skim through the book, to find more evidence of who Marcilla was and when this poem was written. 

Camille moaned again. Laura felt heat rush to her thighs. She blushed at being turned on and the impossibility of the scenario. Heat spread through her cheeks and down her neck. 

Her neck. Laura’s neck. 

She saw it clearly, Laura Karnstein bored at a party. Laura Karnstein’s neck stretching and yawning. Her neck taught. Her neck bare. Her neck pulsing. Laura’s hand brushes her neck, self-consciously trying to hide it from Camille’s gaze. She dare not look up, dare not see Camille staring into her, moaning at her. She read the last couplet: 

But I rise and follow. 

She retreats, and I give chase. 

Camille let out a shrill moan. Laura looked up and sees Camille’s back arch, her head flung back, as she humped Grauman’s face. Jacques abandoned feeding her strawberries, and licked one of Camille’s nipples. Camille spasmed and let out another moan. 

Laura found herself hoping Camille would cum and be satiated. She didn’t want to endure another poem. She wanted to take the book away and pour through it. She wanted to find out how it was made and who wrote it. Who was Marcilla? Was this autobiographical? Was Laura Karnstein real? Her warm, throbbing neck? 

But Camille’s moans rolled on. She almost fucked Grauman’s face with her fevered thrusting. Jacques used a free hand to administer to Camille’s other breast, but she stopped him. She paused, hesitating. She went rigid, and then sighed. 

Laura couldn’t help but notice Camille’s thighs quiver as Grauman moved away. 

Both men went the bathroom. Laura heard the sink turn on, and then both men walked past her and left the room. Could Laura join them? Did she need permission to go? Would Camille dismiss her? Or would she read more? Would she give chase to Laura Karnstein as Marcilla did? 

Camille lay on the bed for a minute. Her chest heaved as she caught her breath. Another finger absentmindedly swirled over her clit. Laura’s thighs were warm from watching such a beautiful woman glow in the dark and openly touch herself without shame. What a power, to be so shameless. 

No. Shameless implies she ought to be ashamed. Camille was free of shame, and that stirred Laura again. 

Camille sat up and smiled at Laura. “Thank you, Laura. That was a beautiful reading.” 

“Really?” asked Laura, flustered from the compliment. 

“Yes.” Camille came to sit at the edge of the bed, but one hand never left her smooth mound, keeping soft circles rolling over Camille’s clit. “You have a beautiful voice. It fills the room, like your words roll over my body.” 

Laura blushed and hid her face. 

“But don’t pause next time. Read it all in one rush of emotion. Poetry is a storm, not a story. Okay?” 

Laura nodded, embarrassed at the gentle reprimand.

“May I go?” asked Laura. 

“Soon, darling.” Camille fell back into the bed and kept touching herself. Laura looked away, wanting to give Camille privacy, though Camille clearly didn’t need it. She flipped through the pages of the strange tome in her hand. She turned to the next poem, something about a peach. She tried to read, but the light was dimming in the room. Laura looked up to see the candles low, and Camille sitting up, her robe back on. Her lips were still bright red. They glowed on her pale skin in the fading light. 

Then everything went dark. 

** If you want to follow me, get more of my writing, or support me, check me out on Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/trixieadara **

[ldysmfrst]

Breaking and Entering (3) - Lovern

Status: Ongoing Series

Chapter number: 3 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 1,808

Word count for Story: 8,461

Genre: Werewolf

There are no chapter titles, but each chapter will have a name listed that indicates which POV the chapter is from. Mindlinks are in italics. Conversations with their inner wolf are in bold italics.

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children. One of which is special needs, and on 3/28, they lost 75% of their vision. I started a Patreon if you feel the heart to donate towards helping with the medical costs of appointments, medication, and modifications to the house, which insurance doesn't cover.

Warnings: (I am not good at this, but I will try. Let me know if I missed anything!!) NOT BETA READ!! This story will have a bit of angst, fluff, smut, f/m, and m/m. This chapter does have a small amount of violence and comfort.

BREAKING AND ENTERING MASTER LIST

LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

It’s the first day of school. 

I made it to school with plenty of time to spare. Unfortunately, because it was so close to summer, I did not get a chance to watch the sunrise. There would be time for that later when the days grew shorter. 

Since I am new to LRH and seemingly the only student here this early, I decided to walk around campus to find my classes. While I was lucky to get an open period before lunch, my luck ended there.  

Literally, every class was on the opposite side of each other.

So, not only can I not sneak in, but I must also dash across campus to be on time. I will definitely get my recommended 10,000 steps a day.

Slowly, I see students start arriving. 

Most drive nice-looking cars: Highlanders, F350s, Range Rovers, etc. I swear this school has more expensive cars than most cities that I have lived in. 

Glancing at my watch, I still have a few minutes before my zero period starts. It is time to hide in my spot until my classes start in about an hour. 

Walking towards the library, I recognize different cliques meeting up and gabbing about what kind of summer they had. Most of the zero-period students are Worms, which makes sense, and again, why I didn’t sign up for one. They try to fit as many classes into their day as possible to make their transcripts look good for Yale or Harvard. 

Making my way past the gym and into the front doors of the admin building, I cover my head with my hood and head for the non-private elevator. The lobby is already buzzing with official-looking people. Surprisingly, Mitch is there with another guy heading to the private elevator. 

Why is he here so early, why does he have a key card, and who is that other guy with him?  

I ponder Mitchell and his friend as the elevator takes me to the 4th floor. I find my spot and watch as the school below fills up. Since it still feels like summer, the girls wear shorter-than-short skirts and shorts or the occasional pair of leggings. They are clad in different variations of strappy tank tops, showing too much skin. The guys are in shorts or jeans, muscle shirts, or graphic tees. 

I swear this town belongs to Paris or some other fashion icon capital.

This means I will stick out like a sore thumb, awesome. 

Not.

All too soon, I hear the bell sounding at the end of zero period and announcing I have 10 minutes to get to my first class. Hood up, head down, and hands in my pockets, I make it to my first two classes without a hitch. 

There is an extra ten minutes between the second and third periods for brunch, but I head over to my next class, sit against the wall of lockers, and wait outside the door. 

That is when the day starts taking a dive for the worse. 

"Move out of my way. You're blocking my locker." 

Looking up, it is none other than my foster sister Selena with her mini troop of cheerleaders all sneering at me. 

Let me introduce Selena's followers. 

First, there is her best friend and co-captain, Donna. She looks like Selena, with the same body build, color, eyes, and skin tone. The only difference is Donna's sleek, fire-red hair with thick barrel curls. 

Then next would be Antonina, the shortest and best flier in the state. She has a typical cheerleader look, bleach blonde hair, is not as well endowed as Selena and Donna, and has the same crystal blue eyes. 

Last is their tag-a-long, as Selena called her. Her name is Trisha, and she is the Junior Varsity Cheer Captain. She does her best to fit in with Selena and her goons, dressing like them and coloring her hair to match whomever she needs to impress at the time. Over the summer, she seemed to grow into a young woman, meaning she didn't have to keep stuffing her bra.

Mumbling, "I’m sorry, I didn't know," I try to move as fast as I can out of her way, not wanting to cause a scene on my first day of school. I start walking to a set of benches in the sun.

"That's the charity case that I told you about. She has nothing and no one, so my parents decided she could take my old room and stuff to make them look good. Always trying to impress the big wolf," she said with a look of exaggerated pity on her face.

Not believing what she said or willing to let it slide, I turned around with my hands on my hips: "Well, it is not my fault they have a daughter who left them with emptiness in their hearts. I guess they needed me to feel complete."

With a sound almost like a growl, Selena stalks toward me faster than I have ever seen and slaps me, her nails drawing blood on my cheek. 

"Don't you ever think you will complete anyone? You are nothing but a broken soul that can never be fixed. You should know this now since no family wants to keep you." 

Then she turns back to her crew, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and resumes getting stuff out of her locker. Her gaggle of goons copy her movements and are back chatting away like I don't exist, and she didn't just assault me.

Standing in shock at what she said, I just stared at her, my mouth open like a fish out of water—not moving, not knowing what to do. I mean, no one has ever spoken to me like that. 

Suddenly, I feel someone grab my arm and start pulling.

With blurry eyes, I resist and look at the hand on my upper arm. I followed it up to see a man several inches taller than me with a very concerned look. I see his mouth moving and realize he is actually talking to me. 

"Wait! Who the hell are you?" I wiped away the tears and jerked my arm out of his grasp.

"Erik, my name is Erik, and you're bleeding all over your hoodie. I just want to take you to the school healer. She needs to tend to your face quickly, and you need to learn to avoid Selena and her terrors."

"Oh, t-thanks." I wipe my cheek with my cuff, hissing in pain. Looking at the blood on my wristband, it is clear that it isn't just a little scratch. "How the heck did she do that? Is she Wolverine or something?"

"Scarily accurate, but come on, you need to see a healer," Erik said again, grabbing my arm. This time, I let him lead me to the health office.

Inside the health office, an older woman warmly smiles in a classic nurse's uniform. Immediately, she pulls me into the room and tells Erik to go to class. 

She has me sit on the patient's bed as she flits around the room, explaining what she will do and how to take care of the wound. 

According to her, this happens often. She wasn't even shocked that the first injury happened on the first day. She rambles about my injury and keeps proving that this year will be different because she can "feel it in her bones." Once I am cleared to return to class, I leave the building to find that guy waiting for me. 

"Hey… it's Erik, right?" He nods, and I continue with a confused look, "Thank you for helping me, but why are you still here?"

"I, ah… I wanted to make sure you were okay. Selena can be a bitch sometimes, but today she seems to be in rare form. It makes sense after what happened over the summer break. Anyways, you are new here, right?"

"You could tell that easily, huh?" He goes to say something, but I keep going, "Yeah, it's my first day, and I know about Selena. I am her foster sister. She has never been friendly since the day I moved in. Not that I am expecting to be her best friend or anything."

"That has to be terrible. Living with that? Well, anytime you want to get a break, you are welcome to call me. You got your cell?" he says, holding out his hand. 

I look down at the ground and kick a rock near my foot, "Umm… I don't have a cell. Never have. Don't have anyone who wants to keep tabs on me or keep in touch." 

That's when I feel a knuckle under my chin, lifting my head. As my head is lifted, I finally look at him. 

He is slender but well-defined if that is a possible combination. He is pretty much wearing the male version of what I am wearing. He is taller than me by at least four inches. When I finally see his face, a slight shudder runs through me. He has dark brown eyes that pull you in, dimples on each side of his perfect teeth, thick black hair hanging to his shoulders, and perfectly tan skin. 

"Well, you do now, but I kinda need to know your name first if we are gonna be friends? Up to you, of course." He smiles again with a little less confidence and a flash of worry in his eyes as he quickly drops his hand and stuffs them both into his jeans. 

I cleared my throat to talk: "I would like to be friends. I just don't know how long I am going to be here. I don't seem to last long in any one place. I'm not sure you want to waste your time." 

I gave him a chance to back out and leave. I did not want to deal with the heartache of leaving town and my only friend behind.

"Hold on," he takes off his backpack and rummages around, finally pulling out a piece of paper and a pen, jotting something down, then handing it to me, "Here. That's my cell number and address. If you live with the Moores, you are about two blocks from my house. You can call me or come by whenever. I will be your friend for as long as you breathe if you want." 

Glancing at his phone, a trace of trepidation runs across his face, and he sighs softly, "What's your next class? We pretty much missed our third-period class."

"Oh, the fourth period is open for me. I was going to hide out somewhere, but you should get to class. Bye." 

As I quickly turned around and headed towards the cafe, Erik said, "Hey! Can I get your name, at least?"

"You can call me Ren."

((edited on 9/14/25))

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[classicquid]

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[just-one-kid]

i didn't think i'd ever have to make a post like this, but shit hits the fan sometimes i guess. pretty often actually.

the last two months have been more nightmarish than i could have imagined since escaping an abusive household right after graduating high school. i quit my job and started a higher paying one to start my career with, and promptly got fired 4 days in for no real reason pertaining to my work ethic, ability, or punctuality. (i dared to take my friend to the ER the night before a workday and DARED to be tired and still work my ass off all day, which surely showed lack of commitment and laziness?? literally that's the only reason they could tell me. anyway.) now with no job, i applied everywhere in the area and got no responses except for one place that ghosted me after orientation (literally why). then to just dig the knife in deeper, my best friend of 14 years' grandpa (who i was actually close to) AND my fiancé's aunt whose death he was dreading more than anything (she was a cancer survivor and it came back) died within a day of each other. one funeral was 1.5 hours away and the other was 5 hours away, and the two were two days apart. my car is now overdue on an oil change from this and while my partner and i are still grieving RENT is due and my insurance bill is due and an oil change and my registration and and and (it feels never-ending)

anyway

we already have some assistance from a charity for $900 of our $1400 rent (the maximum they can supply), meaning we're still $500 short. with the grace period ending in two days. and with my fiancés new job (only blessing lately), he won't get a check for another 3 weeks.

we can use any help we get, either to fill that gap or, if we can't make the goal, to survive until a relative allows us to stay with them (after getting evicted and no longer being able to rent). and spoiler alert: no relative of his will take us together, and the only one of mine i have in the state wouldn't take me because they are busy housing my rapist.

if you have even a dollar to donate, it would be incredibly appreciated. i'm not sure what to link here because i haven't had the chance to set up a gofundme or any of the popular donating sites, but my venmo, cashapp and paypal are all under carrotarot. i'm just that desperate at this point.

[paydayquid]

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[amarantine-amirite]

The Road Home

Dad boarded the driver's seat of our brown LeBaron with wood panels. It shook slightly under his weight. He slammed the door, started the car, and backed out of the parking lot of the park where I had the soccer tournament.

It's a sunny day. The forests at the side of the road are beautiful. Today had all the trappings of a nice drive. And yet I still ended up in tears by the time we got home.

It started with my parents arguing in the car, while me and my little sister Erin sat in the backseat.

Dad didn't look at me when he said, "Well Jane, you played like shit. Eight goals? Really?" nobody could tell if he did so to keep his eyes on the road or because he was too mad to look at me.

"Arthur, don't go there," Mom warned.

Dad went there anyway. "No, Dorothy," he snipped, "she played like shit."

"Arthur, It takes a whole team to play soccer" Mom responded in an attempt to get him to lay off.

It didn't work. Dad just kept after me, "You don't get it, Dorothy. Jane's never going to be good at soccer if she doesn't learn from her mistakes."

Dad has never played a single game of soccer in his life, yet he thinks he could do a better job. He doesn't know what we go through.

It's different for girls. We sit out if we're on our periods because they don't make shorts in colours other than white. We can't wear our own bras, not even underneath the ones that come with the uniform. We always fall because the boys who get first dibs tear up our turf. We injure our knees and ankles because our shoes don't fit right.

I have it even harder. We play our games with a bowling ball painted like a soccer ball and our coach tells us we have trouble kicking because we aren't very strong. Most of my teammates genuinely believe that they can't kick a soccer ball. I know it's a bowling ball, and it frustrates me to no end that everyone pretends it's a soccer ball. In an environment like this, I don't think anybody could be good at soccer.

Dad turned around and glared at me. "Jane. you tell me what you did wrong!" he demanded

"I don't remember," I said, trying not to piss myself in fright.

Dad relented. "No, you do remember, you just don't want to think about it," he growled.

The car would have gone silent after that, except Erin had the guts to say, "Why does it matter, Jane's never going to be good at soccer. Can't we just do what Mom says and take the bike everywhere, because we wouldn't need soccer if we rode our bikes and-"

She had a point. I sucked at soccer and hated playing it. I never understood why I had to play a team sport when I could've gotten exercise some other way. We live somewhere where we can get to places by bike and stay off the roads at the same time. We didn't have to be a take-the-car-to-sports-for-exercise family.

Regardless, my sister's comment made Dad launch into a white-hot tirade. "Listen, girls," he began, "but nobody is going to teach you this. People on bikes are a disaster for the economy. They don't buy cars or fuel and don't borrow money. They don't pay insurance policies and they don't pay to have the car serviced, nor do they need repairs. They don't use paid parking or cause any major accidents. With people on bikes, there's no need for multi-lane highways."

He's not wrong, but people on bikes buy other stuff too, such as water bottles, gears, bike repairs, and bike trolleys. The spending doesn't go away, it just gets transformed into something else.

Dad angrily ranted on. "Not done!" he continued, "people on bikes don't get fat. Healthy people are not necessary or useful to the economy. They don't buy medicine. They do not go to hospitals or doctors. They add nothing to the country's GDP."

I burst out laughing. Dad's tirade sounds wrong on multiple levels, but I can't pinpoint the flaws in the argument. Even if I could, it wouldn't have stopped him. "On the contrary, each new McDonald's store creates 30 jobs. 10 cardiologists, 10 dentists, 10 dietitians, and nutritionists, as well as the people who work in the store itself."

Before either Mom or Erin could say something, Dad bellowed, "And walking is even worse. Pedestrians don't even buy a bicycle!"

"Yes," Mom said in a vain attempt to put an end to Dad's psychotic rant, "but they buy shoes. And sunscreen."

Without warning, my father hauled off and maneuvered the car to crash us all into the dividing wall. He wanted all of us to die together. The reverberating echoes of my mother and sister screaming and me crying haunt me to this day.

We got home in one piece. Mom and Dad forgot about the drive home within an hour of arriving home, and Erin forgot about it in a couple of days. I never will. To this day, I panic if I'm in a car with someone and they seem even slightly upset, especially if on the freeway near a dividing wall.

[heavensigh]

Its been a while since I journaled...so lets get into it.

I started my period 3 days early and I’m not sure what that means. I have been eating healthier so that could be it. Not yesterday, I had about 3 donuts yesterday and a second helping of dinner. I blamed it on my period. For when I bleed...I hunger...?

I got a new workout coach. Its a woman this time and she seems nice. She has me doing a little cut to get my body fat percentage down and I don’t think I’m doing a good job at tracking my calories. Its been about 3 days and its time consuming. Practice makes perfect I guess. I’m pretty much starting back at the starting line so might as well make my mistakes now and get them out of the way.

Chu went to get his labs done last week and he is finally sperm free. We’ve been at it like rabbits and my period is still on time. I’m so happy. This is one of the best decisions we made.

Launching the new store today. Chu showed it around to some guys at work and now I got all this feedback. Psh, where was it when I was in the design phase?! I gotta go back and make the corrections and I’m still unsure on the price but I’m going to let it be and see what the market says. I might take it lower.

Work is fine. I got a new position. Turns out I’m still really green as a paralegal. The attorney I was working for has a heavy case load and is awful about time management. They were a huge source of stress. I did a review meeting with the partners and it seems like they are unsure on where to place me. Especially now that they are short one attorney. So my schedule has changed. I come in 5 days a week now. It hasn’t hit me yet because my pay is still the same but I am looking for a new job. My goal this year is to increase my salary by at least 10k. I’m also looking into project management? Google has a course on it and I’ve always been attracted to the concept. Law is cool but I don’t want to be an attorney. And what's the point if I don’t aim for the top?

This week I’m just going to focus on getting a sale and quieting the voices of creating new business plans.

Finally got my new car back but the insurance wants to send an investigator to check it before they okay any more repairs. I have a full write up from the repair shop so I’m going to go through the whole thing with them while they are here. It better be a smooth process or they are going to hear it.

I’m still sitting on my ankles but I’ve been reminding myself to sit properly throughout the day. 

 I hope it pops off for me soon. I’ve been getting really tired as of late.

[southgatetravels]

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A short drive from the city center, Kovalam Beach is famous for its crescent-shaped shorelines and crystal-clear waters. It’s the perfect place to spend a relaxing day on the beach or try water sports like surfing. Driving yourself allows you to explore the quieter beaches nearby that tourists often miss.

2. Padmanabhaswamy Temple

This iconic temple is one of Trivandrum’s most renowned cultural landmarks. Located in the heart of the city, the Padmanabhaswamy Temple is a must-visit for history buffs and those interested in architecture. Having your own rental car ensures you can visit at your convenience without waiting for a cab.

3. Veli Tourist Village

Just a 30-minute drive from Trivandrum, Veli Tourist Village offers a picturesque spot where the Veli Lake meets the Arabian Sea. Visitors can enjoy boating, picnicking, and serene walks along the waterfront. It's a perfect place for a peaceful afternoon getaway with your self-drive car.

4. Neyyar Dam

Located around 32 kilometers from Trivandrum, Neyyar Dam offers beautiful scenic views, a wildlife sanctuary, and boating activities. The dam is a peaceful retreat away from the city’s hustle and bustle. Having a self-drive car allows you to easily visit this serene location, and you can explore the surroundings at your own pace.

5. Agasthyakoodam

A UNESCO World Heritage site and a part of the Western Ghats, Agasthyakoodam is a popular destination for trekking and wildlife enthusiasts. It's about 60 kilometers from Trivandrum, and the scenic drive through lush forests and rolling hills is a journey worth taking.

Benefits of Choosing Budget-Friendly Car Rentals

1. More Savings for Your Trip

When you rent a car at the lowest price, you’re left with more room in your budget for enjoying other aspects of your trip. Whether it's trying local delicacies, shopping for souvenirs, or extending your stay, the savings can make a huge difference in the overall travel experience.

2. Flexible Pick-Up and Drop-Off

Many affordable rental services in Trivandrum offer flexible pick-up and drop-off options. Whether you need the car delivered to the airport, your hotel, or any other convenient location, it adds to the comfort of your travel plans without adding extra charges.

3. Safe and Well-Maintained Vehicles

Even when opting for budget-friendly car rentals, you don’t have to compromise on quality. Reputable companies ensure their cars are regularly serviced and sanitized, providing a safe and reliable driving experience for their customers.

4. 24/7 Support

Even budget rentals offer 24/7 roadside assistance and customer support. If you face any issues on the road, help is just a phone call away, ensuring peace of mind while you enjoy your trip.

Conclusion

For travelers looking to explore Trivandrum without breaking the bank, self-drive car rentals at the lowest price provide the perfect solution. With affordable rates, flexibility, and the freedom to explore this vibrant city and its surroundings at your own pace, renting a car ensures a hassle-free experience. Whether you’re visiting the stunning beaches, hill stations, or historical temples, having your own rental car will elevate your travel experience while keeping your budget in check.

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Honda Car Financing: Making Your Dream Car Affordable

Business man show money bank note make financial plan invite people to sell or buy house and car – monetary properties loan credit insurance concept

Buying a new car is an exciting experience, but it can also feel overwhelming when it comes to financing. If you’re considering a Honda, you’re already on the right track for reliability, performance, and style. But did you know that Honda car financing options are designed to make owning your dream car easier and more affordable than ever? Whether you’re purchasing a new model or a used Honda, their tailored financing plans ensure flexibility and affordability, letting you drive away with peace of mind.

In this blog, we’ll take a closer look at Honda’s financing options, how they work, and why they’re an excellent choice for anyone in the market for a car.

Why Choose Honda Car Financing?

Flexible Financing Options Honda offers a wide range of finance packages to suit different budgets and needs. Whether you’re looking for a low initial deposit, fixed monthly payments, or a flexible payment term, Honda has you covered. The financing can be tailored to your circumstances, so you only pay what fits into your lifestyle.

Competitive Interest Rates Honda car financing solutions come with competitive interest rates, making your loan more affordable over time. Special offers such as 0% interest for specific models and flexible loan terms ensure that financing a Honda is as cost-effective as possible.

Honda Loyalty Programs If you’re an existing Honda customer, you could benefit from loyalty programs designed to reward returning buyers. These programs often include better rates, lower down payments, and exclusive deals on certain models, making upgrading to a new Honda even easier.

Easy Online Application Process Honda’s financing options are designed with convenience in mind. You can start your finance application online, receive a decision in a short time, and then finalise the details at your local dealership. It’s a simple, streamlined process, saving you time and hassle.

Honda Financing Options

Hire Purchase (HP) One of the most straightforward ways to finance your car, Hire Purchase (HP) allows you to spread the cost over fixed monthly payments. After paying an initial deposit, you’ll continue making payments over a set period (usually 1 to 5 years). At the end of the contract, you’ll own the car outright. This option is ideal if you want full ownership of the vehicle once your payments are completed.

Personal Contract Purchase (PCP) Personal Contract Purchase (PCP) is one of the most popular finance options for car buyers who want flexibility. With PCP, you pay a lower monthly amount for a set period, followed by a final “balloon” payment if you choose to keep the car. You also have the option to return the vehicle or trade it in for a new model. PCP is great if you like to change your car frequently or want lower monthly payments.

Lease Purchase For those who want a combination of low monthly payments and ownership at the end of the term, Lease Purchase offers a flexible solution. You make regular payments during the lease period, with a larger final payment to fully own the car. It’s ideal for those who want the option to own but also want manageable monthly instalments.

Personal Loan With a Personal Loan, you borrow a set amount to buy your Honda, making equal payments until the loan is repaid. Unlike PCP or HP, there are no balloon payments at the end of the contract. The advantage here is that you own the car immediately and aren’t tied into a contract with the dealer. This option suits buyers who want to keep their cars long-term.

Honda Contract Hire For businesses and individuals who prefer not to own a vehicle, Honda Contract Hire offers the perfect solution. You can lease a brand-new Honda for a set period, making fixed monthly payments, and simply return the car at the end of the lease term. This option is ideal for those who want to avoid the hassles of ownership, including maintenance and depreciation.

Honda Finance Benefits

Customised Plans Every customer’s financial situation is different, which is why Honda’s finance options are designed to be flexible. Whether you’re a first-time buyer, upgrading, or looking for a business vehicle, Honda has a plan that can be tailored to meet your needs.

Deposit Options Honda financing typically offers flexible deposit amounts, starting with low or no deposit offers for certain models. This gives buyers the opportunity to get behind the wheel of their dream Honda without the stress of an upfront payment.

End-of-Agreement Flexibility Financing through Honda provides you with flexibility at the end of your contract. If you’re using PCP, for instance, you can decide whether to keep the car, return it, or trade it in for a new model. This flexibility allows you to adjust based on your needs and financial situation when the agreement comes to an end.

Credit Support Honda provides support for a wide range of credit histories. Whether you have an excellent credit score or are working to rebuild your credit, Honda’s finance team will work with you to find a plan that suits your circumstances.

How to Apply for Honda Car Financing

Getting started with Honda financing is simple:

Visit the Honda Website: Most Honda dealers have online application forms that allow you to begin the financing process at your own pace.

Check Your Eligibility: Before applying, use Honda’s online tools to check your eligibility and calculate your monthly payments based on your preferred model and budget.

Apply: Submit your application online or visit your local Honda dealership to meet with a financing advisor who will guide you through the process.

Get Approved: Once approved, you can finalise the agreement and drive away in your new or used Honda.

Conclusion

Financing a Honda has never been easier or more accessible. With a variety of flexible options, competitive interest rates, and the added benefits of Honda’s quality vehicles, you can get behind the wheel of your dream car without breaking the bank. Whether you choose Hire Purchase, PCP, or Contract Hire, Honda car financing is designed to fit your budget and lifestyle, making your car-buying journey smooth and hassle-free.

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Car Rental in Calicut: A Comprehensive Guide

Calicut (Kozhikode), known for its rich cultural heritage, scenic beauty, and historical significance, is a destination that offers a unique blend of traditional charm and modern amenities. Whether you’re a tourist exploring Kerala’s Malabar coast, a business traveler, or a local resident in need of transportation, renting a car in Calicut provides the flexibility and comfort you need. From compact cars for city commutes to SUVs and luxury vehicles for longer trips, there are several rental options available in the city.

In this guide, we’ll explore the top car rental Calicut, popular car models, and useful tips to help you get the best out of your car rental experience.

2. Popular Car Models Available for Rent in Calicut

Calicut’s car rental services offer a diverse range of vehicles catering to different needs. Whether you’re looking for a compact car for city use, an SUV for a family trip, or a luxury sedan for a special event, there’s something for everyone.

Economy Cars

Maruti Swift: Perfect for navigating the city with its compact design, easy handling, and great fuel efficiency.

Hyundai Grand i10: A popular hatchback with a spacious interior, ideal for short trips and city drives.

Ford Figo: Another budget-friendly option with a reliable engine and decent mileage.

SUVs and Family Cars

Toyota Innova Crysta: The go-to vehicle for families or group travel, offering ample space and a comfortable ride.

Mahindra Scorpio: Known for its robust build and off-road capabilities, ideal for longer trips or rough terrains.

Hyundai Creta: A compact SUV offering comfort and style, perfect for both city driving and long road trips.

Premium and Luxury Cars

BMW 5 Series: A luxury sedan with a combination of style, performance, and cutting-edge technology, perfect for business trips or special occasions.

Mercedes-Benz GLA: A luxury SUV offering top-tier comfort, performance, and a stylish design, ideal for long-distance travel.

Audi A6: A premium sedan offering a sophisticated driving experience with luxurious interiors and high-tech features.

3. Benefits of Renting a Car in Calicut

Flexibility: Renting a car gives you the flexibility to explore Calicut and its surroundings at your own pace, without relying on public transport or taxis.

Convenience: With options for doorstep delivery and app-based bookings, car rental services in Calicut provide a hassle-free experience.

Privacy: Whether you’re traveling alone, with family, or on a business trip, self-drive rentals give you the privacy that taxis or public transport may not offer.

Cost-Effective: For those planning to travel extensively in and around Calicut, renting a car can be more economical than hiring cabs for every trip, especially for group travel.

4. Things to Consider When Renting a Car in Calicut

Advance Booking: To secure the best car for your trip, especially during peak tourist seasons, it’s wise to book in advance.

Insurance Coverage: Ensure that your rental car comes with adequate insurance. This will protect you in case of accidents or damages during the rental period.

Fuel Policy: Check whether the car rental comes with a full tank of fuel and if you’re required to return it with the same amount of fuel.

Security Deposit: Most rental services require a security deposit, which is refundable upon returning the car in good condition.

Inspection: Before driving off, inspect the vehicle for any pre-existing damage or scratches. This can help avoid disputes when returning the vehicle.

5. Popular Road Trips from Calicut

Calicut is well-connected to several scenic and historical destinations in Kerala. Renting a car allows you to embark on memorable road trips. Here are a few popular routes:

1. Wayanad

Distance: 85 km (approx. 2.5 hours)

Route: Calicut – Wayanad via NH766

Highlights: Lush green hills, waterfalls, and trekking trails.

2. Kannur

Distance: 90 km (approx. 2.5 hours)

Route: Calicut – Kannur via NH66

Highlights: Beaches, historical forts, and Theyyam festivals.

3. Thrissur

Distance: 110 km (approx. 3 hours)

Route: Calicut – Thrissur via NH66

Highlights: Thrissur Pooram festival, Vadakkunnathan Temple, and Kerala Kalamandalam.

4. Guruvayur

Distance: 80 km (approx. 2 hours)

Route: Calicut – Guruvayur via NH66

Highlights: Famous Guruvayur Temple, traditional Kerala architecture.

5. Beypore

Distance: 10 km (approx. 30 minutes)

Route: Calicut – Beypore via NH66

Highlights: Beypore Beach, traditional wooden shipbuilding, and coastal beauty.

6. Conclusion

Car rental services in Calicut offer a convenient and flexible way to explore the city and nearby attractions. Whether you need an economy car for a short city trip, a spacious SUV for a family outing, or a luxury vehicle for a special occasion, you’ll find plenty of options to suit your needs. With reliable rental providers and a variety of vehicle types available, your journey through Calicut and its scenic surroundings can be both comfortable and memorable.