Naps are beautiful

[Kaloina S. Palineke]

Music was drifting out of the open windows into the autumn breezes out of the second-story window on a fairly large house, in a relatively good neighboorhood. Well, it wasn't, drifting, per say; rather, it was... Committing suicide? The music had been ranging all day, from soft pop to heavy metal. Recently, it had all been somewhat depressed, bad metal playing. If you looked inside the window from what the music was playing, you'd see a dark room, lit up only by a computer monitor, displaying several emails and a partially-written story. You would also see a bed with several pillows and a giant lump upon it. What you would not see would be what was under the lump being productive and finishing up her next bit by the deadline, which was on this lovely date.

Said lump was not sick. She was not depressed. She did not even have a writer's block. In fact, the only reason why she was not at that computer, finishing up her book to be edited and taken by her lovely, new editor, was merely that she had no motivation to write. And she was lazy. In fact, chances were, given the choice, that Kal (this lump that I have been speaking of) would not move out of her bed for the next three or four days. The recent interview with her next slave-to-be had worn her out, and not to mention, she was in a bit of a withdrawal. The last time she had had sex? A week ago. And that was when she was drunk, so it hardly counted. Not including that, it had been ten days without the dirty deed. That, to Kal, was like a chain smoker not having a cigarette for ten days. It made her act very odd- she stopped going out into the light, and if someone even semi-attractive looks just happened to see her, she would grab them by collar and scream. "FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, SLEEP WITH ME." If they said no, she either raped them or crawled back into bed.

[Emory L. Coheart]

Emory let out a sigh, looking up at Kal's window. He could hear the music from where he was standing. Running a hand through his blond and brown hair, Emory walked up to her door and unlocked the door, slowly walking in. He wore a plain black t-shirt with some skinny jeans and tennis shoes; nothing fancy, but not terribly bad.

He walked up to the second floor as quietly as he could, trying to sneak up on Kal. For God's sake, she had better have gotten the rest of the story done! Emory creaked open the door and changed the song to some scream-o music, cranking up the volume as to get the attention of the lazy lump. He noticed the computer and frowned, turning the volume up as far as it would go.

"Yo, Kal! You gotta finish the deadline NOW!" He shouted to her over the music, smiling. Emory found a chair and sat down, waiting for the other's reaction. He knew it probably wouldn't be pretty, which is why he had drank some blood before he left from his lovely new, first human. A smile came to his face as he thought of the mortal, but returned to the lump shortly after.

[Kaloina S. Palineke]

Kal stirred slightly at the sound of someone coming in through the door; she recognized it vaguely as Emory, her most recent editor. And probably the only one she hadn't slept with yet. Not surprisingly, screamo started playing and Kal moved a slight bit. She peeked out from her blankets, and she looked at Emory. He was so cute in his simple get up~. She spoke, softly saying his name before getting into her more normal self and grabbing him by the collar. "Emory... Em... VOULEZ-VOUS COUCHER AVEC MOI?" Kal had a pathetic look in her eyes. "How can you expect me to finish this smut when I haven't gotten any in a week!?!"

The woman played an excellent dramatic card. She fell back onto the bed, looking oddly sexy in her pj's, which were a pair of white pants with a heart print and a white cami that barely covered her breasts. Kal's hair was spread around her, rippling out in soft curls, as she hadn't dealt with it in quite a while (other than washing and brushing, naturally). "Emmmm... I have no motivation... The new slave I'm getting will be fun, sure, but she's not going to be here for a while..." She looked at Emory with big doe eyes, tears forming at the corners. Damn, I shouldn't have been a writer, I should have been an actor... Or a model... She sighed and looked away from Emory at the wall.

[Emory L. Coheart]

Emory blinked a few times when Kal grabbed his collar and practically begged him to sleep with her. Letting out a sigh, he broke the girl's grip and took a step away, not willing to be tackled. Or raped. He let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair when Kal explained about the new slave; how was he supposed to--- Oh. Now he got it.

"Kal, I know what you're trying to do. I'm not going to sleep with you. If you want to watch me with MY new slave, though, you're welcome to come over. Though, I doubt it's boy sex you're after. Oh, ya, I don't think I ever got around to reading what you've already written. I should do that later," he said, mumbling the last bit to himself. He took a deep breath and leaned against a wall.

[Kaloina S. Palineke]

Kal sighed deeply. "I knew you would deny me." She looked at Emory once more. "Good thing, too. You're not very manly... and you can't act." Kal sat up and dragged her feet over to the computer. "... My vajayjay hurts..." She took the remote to her stereo and switched to Superbus, and following the clicks of CDs changing was the catchy French tune Radio Song. Kal sang along as she looked through her emails once more. "Let's see... There are a couple from creepy guys who I've been meaning to get restraining orders on... There's one from a lesbian... One from two bored teen girls... Several from teen boys... Where do they get this stuff? Fake ID's are so much more common these days..." Kal closed all of her emails, leaving only the typed draft of her book.

Kal stood, singing along to the song in perfect French. "We are we are on the radio now, the radio now! J'en ai jamais assez, je vois toujours après, des fois je me demande comment je peux m'y prendre j'en ai jamais assez, je suis vite lassée, je suis jamais contente, on dit que je suis chiante..." She walked over to her dresser and pulled out a pair of panties and a matching bra, as well as a button-up blouse and a miniskirt. She gathered up her clothes and walked out of her room, saying a few things before she left. "I'm off to shower; we're going out to eat. You can read what I've got so far there; it's the beginning of the final chapter. Since you're new, I'll explain a few things. One. You and I don't connect, you're fired. That's why we're off to eat, that's why this is your first visit to my home. Editors are like a writer's best friend in the workplace. Two. I don't watch. I perform. Then I write. Three. You don't like what I write. Please state so. If the reasons aren't complete bullshit, then I'll consider them. If you don't like what I wrote merely because you don't like it, you're fired. That's another thing about editors- they have to pretend they are not themselves, but rather the writer's readers." Kal smiled and waved. "Well, I'm off to get ready. Have fun~"

The monitor displayed a document titled "Jolly Rancher- final", and it was currently 37 pages long. This was before Kal changed everything to what it would be when the book was published, with everything all big and readable; red and green lines underlined certain typos that Kal overlooked in her fits of writing passion. The document was at the top; Kal probably knew that Em would be reading it over, or she would be reading it over herself.

'Joey held Carissa in his arms; he couldn't help but feel her delicate curves and voluptuous, soft body. No!, he thought, she's only sixteen! Can't think like that- she's your student.! But Joey had never felt like this towards any other woman; this girl he held was more noble, more deep than any other woman he had ever known. She began to stir. "Carissa! Are you awake?"

The raven-haired beauty slowly opened her eyes, seeing nothing but Joey's caring face. "Mr. Zaroff? What are you doing?"

Joey smiled. "You passed out on the subway; gave us quite a scare. I'm carrying you home to rest."

"But I live so far away!"

"I know. That's why I'm bringing you to my home." The girl's cheeks flushed a slight bit.

"I-I'm fine now; you don't have to carry me."

Joey slowly set down the sixteen-year old; he watched her for a moment before taking off his coat and putting it around her shoulders. "You should still come home with me. I'll get your parents to give you a ride home." Carissa looked so cute standing there in the cold, her cheeks a rosy red, her skin so pale, her eyes shining...

"Mr. Zaroff?

"Yes?"

"I-I... thank you..." She sighed, then looked up at the twenty-three-year-old man. Her heart pounding, Carissa leaned up and kissed the teacher. He was caught by surprise, but by no means did he stop her. Rather, he returned the kiss, his hands sliding down her waist, then creeping back up underneath her shirt. However, the two pulled apart. "Let's wait until we get home, hmm?" The teacher spoke with a sly smile.

When the two entered the door of the apartment, it took barely a second until the throes of passion overwhelmed them. Joey backed Carissa up against a wall, slowly undoing the white blouse she wore, revealing a lacy bra far too sexy for a girl like her. Soon the thing was off, and Joey was kissing and sucking on each breast, making the girl moan with sweet pleasure. He traveled down further, ripping off the blue plaid skirt that was the school uniform and smirking at the panties that obviously went to match the bra, except for the blue ribbon at the very top. Joey took them off with his teeth and began to run his tongue on her clit, getting the young girl wetter than she was already. His kisses ran back up her body, returning to her mouth. Joey stripped off his pants, the bulge now revealed for what it was: a giant cock, hard as a rock. Carissa was a bit shocked; this was her first time, after all.'

All of that -and just that- was written on page one.

[OMG I WROTE THAT ALL MYSELF. WTF?]