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Aircnd: The Cottage

Fully Booked

Tracy was angry with her new secretary's incompetence. The stupid girl had put off making her travel arrangements for the conference until the last minute, and now all the good hotels were booked. Fucking management should have known better than to schedule the conference during some goddamned, national gathering for a bunch of perverts, anyway, but it was still the stupid girl's fault for waiting so long to book Tracy's accommodations. She poked at the trembling girl with a painted nail, dressing her down in front of the office, while her co-workers watched, disgusted by yet another tirade from their overbearing manager.

"Find me a place!" Tracy shouted, stabbing her finger at the poor girl, "A fucking nice one. I'm not staying in some shithole Motel 8! Do you understand me? And keep me as far away from all those… perverts… as possible."

"Yes, ma'am!" the girl said, choking back her sobs of humiliation.

Tracy stormed away on her high heels and slammed the door to her office in disgust. Quietly, her co-workers went back to work. Ross, who had a particular hatred of Tracy, made his way over to the secretary and handed her a tissue.

"Hey," he said, kindly, "It'll be alright. She blows up and goes full bitch-mode for a while, but then she'll forget about it and move on to her next target. Probably me."

He gave her a comforting grin. The girl took the tissue and dabbed at her eyes.

"Thank you," she said, "I don't know how she expected me to get her a place to stay so quickly. Her last secretary should have done that. I've only been here a week."

Ross nodded, understanding. Tracy didn't care that the girl was new and still trying to get a handle on her boss' busy schedule and particular needs.

"You know," Ross said, "If you're having trouble getting a hotel, you might consider one of those rental places, like Airbnb. You might get lucky and find a really nice place that's less money than a hotel."

The secretary brightened and said, "That's a great idea!"

"Just hang in there," Ross said and gave the girl a winning smile, "I'm Ross," he extended his hand.

"Tricia," she said, shaking it.


Tracy drove her rental car from the airport to her accommodation. She'd heard of these Airbnb things before but hadn't ever considered one. The idea of staying in some stranger's house or apartment just seemed weird. Unfortunately, she hadn't had much choice. Her previous secretary, she knew, should have arranged her hotel months ago. That was one reason she'd fired the bitch, though. She was lazy. Tracy had had higher hopes for her replacement, but it seemed like she'd managed to hire in another dumb one. She stewed in the driver's seat as she pulled up a long drive. At the end of the drive, Tracy brightened.

She veered off of the main drive, where she could see a large, elegant manor-style house, and pulled up to a charming little guest cottage, secluded in a copse of trees. The little place was so cute! The cottage was like some storybook dream, covered in little ivy trellises, with adorable shutters and a little pond out front. Small, pretty flowers were planted outside, obviously meticulously cared for. She extracted her bag from the trunk, then walked to the door, punched in the code provided in her email confirmation from AirCnD (clearly some offshoot brand looking to capitalize on the name), and let herself in. Okay, she thought, the girl had done good on this one. The cottage was an open design, with a large flat screen TV on one wall, a working fireplace, large bed, and a little kitchenette. There wouldn't be room service, but she also wouldn't be bothered by any other guests. It was quiet. It was cute. She dropped her bag on the bed and cocked her head curiously.

On the bed was a padded package, along with a welcome card from the host. She took up the card and read it.

Thank you for choosing us as your Aircnd host! Per your contract requirements, please wear this belt throughout the duration of your stay. Due to a string of violations against the rules, we have made this a requirement for all guests. Your host will provide a key for any necessaries at your request, and release will be provided at the end of your stay. Thank you for complying with this requirement. If you choose, at any time, not to follow this rule, you will be asked to leave the premises immediately.

What the fuck was this? Tracy took up the package, which was heavier than it looked, and tore open the sanitary wraps. She pulled out an odd contraption consisting of thin, but sturdy, metal, padded on the inside. It looked like… a fucking chastity belt! Someone was playing a joke, clearly. This was probably some kind of hilarious prank, because of the goddamn Friendly Uninhibited Consensual Kink conference that had managed to book up the hotels in town. She put the weird thing into the trash and went to the kitchenette, where the host had graciously left a stock of snacks, teas, and coffees.

Tracy helped herself to some of the tea, a brand called Happy Cat. The box had a picture of a sleepy kitten, lying on its back, purring happily as its owner stroked its belly. While it steeped, she flicked on the TV and changed into a pair of soft lounge pants and a t-shirt. The tea whistled as Tracy flicked through the available channels, but she frowned. All of the channels were porn.

"Fucking perverts!" she cursed.

Again, she railed silently at management for their oversight. Whose goddamn idea was it to schedule the conference during another conference with an acronym like FUCK? It was probably that misogynist dickhead, Carlton, she thought. She flicked off the TV, poured her tea, then went out to the front of the cottage and sat in silence on the bench, next to the little pond, listening to the birds and the insects in the woods. It really was peaceful, she thought. It was such a shame about the TV, though.

While she sipped tea, she noted an older woman shuffling down the drive toward the cottage. The host, she presumed. Tracy sighed and stood. She supposed she'd have to encounter the people at some point. It was best, she decided, to get it out of the way now, so that she could make it clear that she wanted to be left alone while she was staying here. The woman approached.

Tracy noted that she was not, really, old. She was more mature, but sprightly and it was obvious that she took care of herself.

"Hello," she said, raising a hand in greeting, "I'm Leah, your host. Forgive the intrusion. I'll just be a moment and then we'll stay out of your way, so you can have your privacy."

"Nice to meet you," Tracy said, politely.

"Is everything satisfactory?" Leah asked, "Anything you need?"

"I'm okay," Tracy said, but then she thought of the TV, "But I don't think the TV is working right. It seems like it only has a few channels.

Leah nodded and said, "It's the conference in town. Our provider is sponsored by the FUCK people," Tracy blinked at the woman's casual use of the word, "and they switch all the programming over to dirty movies, temporarily."

"That seems crazy," Tracy said, "What about families that have children?"

Leah shrugged and said, "I guess they just watch streaming services. I'm sorry, but we don't have any of those, so for now it's either porno or nothing."

Tracy blushed.