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fear-is-truth · 7 days ago

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# SUGAR DADDY! BRUCE WAYNE — hc

synopsis — your life as bruce wayne’s sugar baby warnings — suggestive. mdni a/n — if law school doesn’t work out… this is my dream career lol (exclusively bruce wayne)

he’s strict about keeping things low-profile. no selfies, no pictures together, and definitely no talking to anyone about your arrangement. but when it’s just the two of you, behind closed doors, though, his edges softened—not soft soft, of course, but as close as bruce wayne could ever get.

bruce is every inch the gentleman when he’s out with you—always placing his hand on the small of your back when guiding you through a crowd or escorting you to his car, a subtle but firm gesture that says, you’re mine, and i’m looking after you. he opens doors for you without fail, pulls out your chair at restaurants, and always walks on the street side of the sidewalk, even if it means switching places mid-walk. if you’re wearing heels, he keeps a steadying hand at your waist when you go down stairs.

even in private, he’s super thoughtful—draping a blanket over you when you’re curled up on the couch, pressing a kiss to your temple as he passes by.

bruce isn’t overly affectionate in public, but in private, he’s tactile and tender. he’ll pull you onto his lap while he works at his desk, one arm wrapped around your waist as his free hand taps at his keyboard. “just stay here,” he’ll say when you try to move. “you’re not distracting me.” though the way his lips find your neck every few minutes says otherwise.

bruce values your mind as much as your beauty, and he shows it in the way he engages you. whether you’re discussing a book, a piece of art, or the nuances of history, he listens with genuine interest. when he occasionally challenges your points, it’s never in that dismissive, mansplaining tone that most self-assured men use—it’s thoughtful and designed to draw out your best arguments.

he’s particular about keeping things convenient for you, so he’s arranged for you to have access to one of his apartments in the city. it’s fully furnished, with a stocked fridge, top-of-the-line security, and a walk-in closet he keeps replenishing with new outfits.

bruce’s love language is acts of service and quality time, but his wealth makes gift-giving his default.

has alfred handle all the logistics of getting you the best: tickets to exclusive shows, reservations at restaurants you didn’t even know existed, and private shopping appointments where he foots the bill without a batting an eye.

sends you on luxurious trips during your breaks—paris, tokyo, the maldives. you’re not sure how he pulls it off without anyone finding out, but bruce wayne always has his ways.

he pays attention to your interests and hobbies, subtly encouraging you to indulge. if you mention liking a certain author, musician or a brand, you’ll find their newest release or collection waiting for you the next day.

leaves his black card with you whenever he has to leave on business. “buy yourself something nice,” he says like you don’t already have everything you could possibly want.

bruce has an almost masochistic appreciation for how deeply you affect him. when you tease him. the first time you call him daddy, it’s in that girlish, playful tone, meant to test how far he’d let you get away with. bruce freezes for a millisecond, his face carefully blank, but the dark glint in his eyes gives him away. he exhales slowly, but the extra time he spends adjusting his cufflinks is a tell—you’ve gotten under his skin.

has a love-hate relationship with the short, tight skirts you wear around him. on one hand, he can’t deny how much they drive him mad, how his eyes inevitably linger on the curve of your ass, like he’s entertaining the idea of ripping the skirt off. on the other hand, he hates the idea of anyone else seeing you like that. he’ll chide you in that authoritative tone of his, maybe even smacking your pert ass for extra emphasis (when in private)

despite the chastising, the next day, he’ll gift you a collection of couture skirts and dresses that fit his exacting standards—form-fitting but elegant, sexy but understated. if you insist on being a distraction, you’ll do it his way.

he loves when you wear his clothes—especially his shirts. seeing you in something oversized and smelling faintly of sex and his cologne drives him insane. but he also loves taking it off you.

he’s not above making you jealous, though it’s very rare. if he senses you’ve been a little too independent lately, he’ll let a socialite or two flirt with him at a party just to see your reaction. when you glare at him from across the room, he’ll flash that infuriatingly charming smile and mouth, “come here.” the second you’re alone, he’ll have you pressed tightly against the wall. “you know there’s no one else for me,” he mutters between hot kisses. “but i like seeing you fight for it.”

has an infuriating habit of teasing you in public, keeping you just on the edge of propriety. he’ll whisper filthy things in your ear during a black-tie gala, his hand resting on your thigh under the table. “be good for me,” his thumb grazes discreetly beneath the hem of your dress, and when your cheeks heat up, he just smirks and kisses the spot beneath your ear.

the car rides are his favourite indulgence. he tells the chauffeur to take the long way home, windows darkened, privacy partition up, while fucking you in every position possible.

has a weakness for seeing you in pieces he’s chosen himself. the delicate lace, silk, and satin he picks out always feel indulgent, tailored to fit your body and his preferences. he leaves boxes for you to find, with a note in his neat handwriting: this one tonight

he buys you diamond necklaces and earrings so extravagant they could rival museum pieces. every time, he insists you model them for him—alone, in the privacy of his bedroom. “just the necklace,” he’ll say with a smirk, his tone leaving no room for argument. the sight of you standing there, bare except for the glittering gems, leaves him utterly speechless. and then he’ll step closer, eyes trailing over the diamonds on your neck before his hands wander elsewhere.

sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly indulgent, bruce will forgo sleep altogether just to spend the night making love with you.

he’s a perfectionist in every aspect of his life, including the bedroom. he’s meticulous about learning what makes you tick, and takes immense pride in knowing your body better than you do. precisely which spots make you gasp, which areas make you arch your back. steady and precise, he’s always tuning in to your reactions. he doesn’t rush, taking his time to explore, kiss, and touch in a way that makes you feel completely cared for.

he can go for hours, but he’s patient, too. enjoying the process as much as the end result—taking his time to kiss, to touch, to indulge in every inch of your body.

bruce is insatiable, but he’s also deeply considerate. though he’s always hungry for you, there’s never a moment where he isn’t attuned to your needs, making sure you’re enjoying yourself, always ready to slow down or adjust if you need him to.

loves leaving marks on your body, but he’s careful about where—always hidden, tiny traces of his presence on your skin that only he gets to see.

still, when he notices you wince as you shift in your seat, he puts on a somewhat sheepish expression, offering a murmured, “sorry about that.” but you can see the faint smirk gracing his lips, the flicker of pride in his eyes. it’s all a front—he’s anything but apologetic.

he watches you drift off in his arms, your breathing steady and soft, the rise and fall of your chest lulling him into a rare moment of peace. his lips brush against your bare shoulder, the small gesture as fleeting as the thought that follows—he doesn’t deserve you—but he’s selfish enough to keep you anyway.

tagging — @suumaer

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airporservice · 2 years ago

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Airport Lounge Services: Travel with utmost comfort

Airport lounge service is a luxurious perk that provides travellers with a comfortable and relaxing place to wait for their flights. These exclusive lounges are typically reserved for frequent flyers and business class passengers, but some airports also offer day passes for travellers who want to upgrade their airport experience.

Read More :- https://priyajain11.blogerus.com/38849751/airport-lounge-services-travel-with-utmost-comfort

#Dubai Airport Meet Assist #London Airport Meet Assist #Paris Airport Meet Assist #Cairo Airport Meet Assist #VIP services at Dubai airport #Fast track immigration at London airport #airport VIP lounges #transfer services #luxury car booking

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elvisslittleegypt · 6 days ago

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𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐌𝐄, 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐄𝐆𝐘𝐏𝐓

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 : Elvis Presley x FEM!Reader

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : "Kiss me Little Egypt" follows Y/N, a bold and confident showgirl at the Moulin Rouge in 1950s Paris, known for her mesmerizing belly dancing. When Elvis Presley visits the city during his military service, he is captivated by her performance. As their worlds collide, a passionate and complicated romance unfolds, challenging both their independence and their desires, set against the backdrop of fame, judgment, and self-discovery.

Paris greeted him with a chill that bit through his military-issued coat, but Elvis Presley barely noticed. The city’s energy hit him the moment he stepped off the plane—photographers shouting, flashes exploding like fireworks, reporters jostling to get closer. They had been waiting for him, of course. They always waited for him, no matter where he went.

“Mr. Presley! Over here!”

“Elvis, how does it feel to be in Paris?”

The questions came fast, some in accented English, others shouted in rapid French that he couldn’t begin to understand. His military service hadn’t dulled the fervor surrounding his name. If anything, it had added an extra layer of mystique. Elvis Presley, the world-famous rock and roll sensation, now a soldier. A paradox wrapped in charm and charisma.

He kept his composure, smiling politely, nodding here and there, his movements deliberate but never rushed. The U.S. Army had trained him to keep things formal, but the natural charm that had made him a star seeped through anyway.

The press conference was held in a grand room at Le Meurice, with its high ceilings and golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the crowd. Elvis stood at the center, flanked by military personnel and local officials, the perfect picture of a disciplined soldier.

“Mr. Presley,” a reporter asked, her French accent lilting, “what do you hope to see during your stay in Paris?”

He smiled, the corner of his mouth curling into that signature smirk. “Well, ma’am, I’m hopin' to experience a bit of everything. The music, the food, the people... Paris has a way of making you feel alive, doesn’t it?”

The room erupted in chuckles and murmurs of agreement.

Another reporter raised his hand. “Elvis, do you plan to perform while you’re here?”

He shook his head. “No, sir. m' just here to enjoy the city and maybe catch some of its famous sights. For now, I’m still on duty.”

The questions continued for what felt like hours, ranging from his military service to his music career, and even his love life. He answered each with the ease of someone who had been in the public eye long enough to know what they wanted to hear.

When it was finally over, he gave a slight bow and retreated to the waiting car outside. The driver, a quiet man with sharp features, whisked him through the streets of Paris. Elvis watched the city unfold through the window—the Seine winding through its heart, the Arc de Triomphe in the distance, and the narrow streets lined with cafés and little shops.

It was beautiful, just as he’d imagined.

The car pulled up in front of the hotel Prince de Galles, its Art Deco façade standing proud against the Parisian skyline. Inside, the lobby was luxurious but not ostentatious, with marble floors and elegant chandeliers casting a soft light. Elvis nodded to the staff as he made his way to his suite, flanked by his entourage.

Once inside, he removed his coat and sat down on the plush armchair by the window. The view overlooked the bustling Avenue George V, the city alive even in the late hours. For a moment, he let himself relax, the weight of the press and the crowd melting away.

But Paris had a pull, and the night was still young.

“Elvis, what’s the plan tonight?” asked Mike, one of his closest friend he met in Germany, lounging on the sofa with a cigarette dangling from his lips.

"I hear the nightlife’s somethin’ else,” Elvis said, his Southern drawl more pronounced now that they were alone. “Thought I might check it out.”

Mike smirked. “got a place in mind?”

“I was thinkin’... the Moulin Rouge,” Elvis replied

Mike whistled low. “The Moulin Rouge, huh? You’re startin’ at the top.”

Elvis laughed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. “Figure if I’m gonna see Paris, I might as well do it right.”

Within the hour, Elvis was ready. He traded his military uniform for a sharp black suit, the kind that made him look every bit the star he was, even without the stage. The car ride to the Moulin Rouge was quieter this time, the anticipation hanging in the air.

When they arrived, the famous red windmill loomed above them, its lights casting a crimson glow over the bustling crowd outside. The building exuded energy and decadence, the promise of a night to remember.

Elvis stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the dim lighting and the haze of cigarette smoke. The room was alive with chatter and laughter, the clinking of glasses blending with the faint hum of music in the background.

His gaze drifted across the room, taking in the opulence—the velvet curtains, the polished wooden tables, the stage where the night’s performances would take place. But something else caught his eye.

A poster.

It was displayed prominently on one of the walls, depicting a half-naked woman with dark eyes and a mesmerizing smile. She was dressed in an Egyptian-style skirt, her body mid-motion in a graceful dance. Above her image, bold letters read:

“Little Egypt”

Elvis paused, his eyes lingering on the poster for a moment longer than he intended. There was something about it—about her—that stirred his curiosity.

“Looks like we’re in for a show,” Mike said, nudging him.

Elvis nodded slowly, his lips curling into a small smile. “Yeah,” he murmured.

Backstage at the Moulin Rouge was a whirlwind of activity as the night’s performance drew closer. The air was thick with the scent of perfume, sweat, and the faintest trace of cigarette smoke. The sound of music, laughter, and chatter filled the space, punctuated by the hurried footsteps of dancers, makeup artists, and stagehands rushing around.

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the straps of your shimmering Egyptian skirt, the beads and coins jingling with every movement. Your reflection stared back at you, but you were too focused on your preparation to really pay attention. You ran a hand through your hair, fixing the intricate updo that had taken so long to perfect. The lights above flickered, casting a warm glow over your face, but your mind was elsewhere. Tonight was another night. Another performance.

“Y/N,” your friend Colette called out to you from across the room. She was sitting on a small bench, carefully slipping on a pair of shoes that matched her red stage costume. “Y/N, have you heard? Elvis Presley is in town!”

You raised an eyebrow, not really bothered by the news. “Who?” you asked, glancing up but not fully focusing. You had more important things on your mind than celebrities, especially American ones.

“Elvis Presley! You know, the famous singer from America?” Genevieve chimed in, tying her ribbon in the back of her costume. “Apparently, he’s at the Moulin Rouge tonight!”

“Elvis Presley?” you repeated, pausing for a moment to consider. You didn’t know much about American musicians, but you had heard the name in passing, even if you couldn’t place why. “Oh, cool,” you said with a shrug, not showing much interest. “I hope he enjoys the show.”

The other girls exchanged knowing glances.

“Cool?” Sabine scoffed, adjusting her costume in the mirror beside you. “You don’t care? He’s so famous ! He’s everywhere!”

You smiled softly, amused by their excitement but not feeling the same rush. “I’m here to dance. That’s all,” you said simply. “I don’t care about the men or their fame. Just here to do my thing.”

“You don’t care, but we do,” Colette teased, her voice light but filled with the eagerness of a fan. “Imagine if he’s watching you tonight! Can you picture it?”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “I’m sure he’ll see plenty of women tonight, Colette”

“Oh, but you’re different,” Genevieve said, nudging you with a playful grin. “Your dance is something else. Something special.”

“Special, huh?” You smirked, turning to look at her. “Just doing what I do best.”

The conversation shifted as Juliette, the most experienced dancer among you, entered the room, adjusting her red lipstick. She overheard your chatter and smiled knowingly. “Ladies, you’re all worked up over a man,” she said, her tone amused but not judgmental. “Y/N is right. We’re here for the stage, not the audience.”

You smiled at her, grateful for her reminder. Juliette always kept you grounded. The other girls were more interested in the possibility of attracting attention, but Juliette knew that the stage was a place of power and focus, not flirtation.

Still, as you continued your preparations, you couldn’t help but feel a slight curiosity about this Elvis Presley. If he was as famous as they said, he’d certainly seen his fair share of dancers. What made him different from the rest?

But you shook the thought from your head, focusing instead on the music that had begun to play in the background. It was time to perform. Time to forget everything except the dance.

The stage manager called for everyone to line up, and you were the first to step into the dim hallway that led to the grand stage. You could hear the applause and chatter from the audience beyond the heavy curtains. You breathed in deeply, feeling the rush of energy that always came before your first step onto the stage.

Tonight would be no different. You would dance, as you always did, with confidence, grace, and the freedom that came with every flick of your hips.

As you took your place backstage, ready for the show to begin, you overheard the other girls gossiping again.

“I can’t believe Elvis is actually here,” Colette whispered. “What if we get to meet him?”

“I think Y/N should meet him,” Sabine said, her voice teasing. “After all, she’s the one who could really catch his eye.”

You smiled to yourself, not letting the talk distract you. This was your time. No matter who was in the audience, you were going to give them a performance they would never forget.

The music enveloped you like a wave, its rhythm pounding through your chest, urging your body to move in sync with the beat. You took your first steps onto the stage, feeling the warmth of the spotlight hit your skin, the soft fabric of your Egyptian skirt swishing around your hips. The crowd’s chatter faded away, the only sound that mattered now was the pulsing music and the swift movements of your own body.

You were the center of it all now, just as you always had been when you danced. You closed your eyes for a moment, losing yourself in the rhythm. The world outside the stage didn’t exist, only the dance. Your body moved fluidly, every step a delicate yet powerful expression of the art you had perfected over the years.

You felt the air on your bare skin as you began to shed layers of the costume—letting go of the societal expectations, the judgments, and the weight of your past. Slowly, you removed the silk fabric that draped over your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as you twirled and spun. The audience was silenced in awe, their eyes locked onto you, but it didn’t matter. You had long learned to ignore their stares and focus only on the performance.

With each move, you felt the strength in your core, the muscles that had been honed through years of practice and hardship. You danced like the wind—graceful, yet fierce—your body telling the story of a woman who had fought for everything, for a place in a world that didn’t always welcome her.

You moved in fluid waves, your hips swaying hypnotically, your stomach contracting and releasing in sharp movements, each one deliberate, precise, a gesture of defiance and freedom. Your hands arched above your head, fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air, as if you were weaving a spell with your movements. The coins of your skirt jingled with each step, a rhythmic accompaniment to your body’s dance.

The audience was captivated. You could feel their gazes upon you, but they were nothing more than a distant hum in the back of your mind. Tonight, the dance was for you. You owned this stage, this moment. And you would leave them breathless.

As the music reached its peak, you let the energy flow through you like an electric current. Your body became a reflection of the music itself—strong, vibrant, unstoppable. The final notes of the song were a rush, a crescendo of sound that matched the intensity of your performance. You threw your arms wide as the last note struck, feeling the energy from the crowd wash over you.

For a brief moment, there was a silence. A deep, anticipatory quiet that made your heart race. Then, as if on cue, the applause erupted. The sound of clapping and cheers filled the room, echoing in your ears. But you stood still, panting lightly, your chest heaving from the exertion, a smile creeping onto your lips.

You’d done it again. You had captivated them.

With a graceful bow, you exited the stage, your head held high, your heart still beating with the rhythm of the performance. The energy from the crowd still buzzed in your veins, but backstage, the atmosphere was calm. The other dancers, having completed their own acts, were waiting for you, their faces bright with admiration.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” Colette called, clapping her hands as you passed. “You were magnificent as always!”

“You make it look so easy,” Genevieve added, smiling. “Like you were born to dance.”

You smiled at them, shaking your head. “It’s all about the music. The rest just follows.”

But even with their praise, you couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief now that the performance was over.

As you made your way to the changing room, you glanced briefly at the mirror, taking in your reflection. There were no clothes now to hide behind, just your skirt and the soft glow of your skin, the sweat from the performance, and the confidence that had always been your greatest asset.

The other girls were chatting about their own performances, gossiping about who was in the audience, but you were already starting to untangle the complex knots of your costume. There was nothing more to say tonight. No need to linger on the approval of others.

You had danced. You had done what you came to do. And as always, you had left them wanting more.

#elvis presley #elvis fans #elvis x reader #elvis presley x reader #elvis history #elvis presley x y/n #elvis photos #elvis the king #elvis the pelvis #elvis presely smut #big daddy elvis #elvis smut

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pareidoliaonthemove · 8 months ago

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A New Policy

Part Two: VIP (Very Important imPosition)

(And since Tumblr is being a pain and I can't find Part One here, you can find it here on AO3).

Apolline Morel looked up as the door gave its discreet chime.

And swore.

She had been the Invoicing and Reception Operative at Tracy Industries’ prestigious Custom Transport Paris office for the last seven years, and had seen all sorts of eccentric – and rich – persons come through the door, and by far Francois Lemaire was the worst of the worst.

She and her colleagues had often dreamed and schemed about refusing the obnoxious idiot service, and they had initially been overjoyed at the thought that they had official permission from the highest authority – Scott Tracy, CEO and homme de rêve – to do so. Until they realised that they would have to tell Lemaire that they would not sell whatever it was he wanted.

To his face.

Apolloine, as had all her colleagues, had consoled herself that the chances of having to actually do so were remote. After all, the Blacklisted persons had all been notified that they would no longer be served by Tracy Industries businesses, non?

Non; or at least, Lemaire hadn’t got the message. Apolline’s heart sank as the man burst through the secondary doors, a damned hovercamera flitting around him, and his wife – Madeline – trailing behind him, with the air of a woman who knew she was about to witness a train wreck and was helpless (and disinclined) to stop it.

“And here we are, at our first stop towards adventure! The luxurious offices of Custom Transport Paree” – Apolline rolled her eyes as his English-language monologue made a point of over-emphasising the proper (that is, French) pronunciation of the city – “where the best designers and technicians will spare no effort – and I will spare no expense – to ensure that I, Francois Lemaire, will be in comfort as I forge yet another world first! The first person to drive up Mount Everest!”

Apolline remembered his previous ‘expedition’ to Everest. It had taken three sherpas to carry the man’s cheeses to the top of the mountain. The outcry from the amount of rubbish that had been left on the top of the mountain – not just holy, but considered an actual goddess – had been the final straw that saw the Nepalese severely restricting access to the mountain. Never mind the idiocy on the descent that saw the man trapping himself and three sherpas in an ice cave. With a yak.

Lemaire’s monologue ended with a flourish as he presented himself to the desk. The holocamera drifted out for dramatic wide angle. “I am Francois Lemaire. Adventurer. Explorer!”

A pointed cough from behind him. “Oh, and this my biographer, Madeline Lemaire.” A vague handwave behind him.

“Your wife.” It was muttered, and not meant for Apolline to hear. Apolline met the woman’s eyes, and was surprised when she smirked. “Give it to him good” was mouthed silently.

Apolline didn’t have a chance to acknowledge Madeline, Lemaire had resumed speaking. “And I have come here today, to Custom Transport Paree to order the construction of a car that will enable me to be the first person to drive up Mount Everest!”

He struck a pose, clearly expecting some kind of accolade or ovation.

Apolline smiled at him, tightly. “Does Monsieur have an appointment?”

He stared at her, bewildered. “I am Francois Lemaire,” he repeated. “Explorer? Adventurer? World Famous? First person to visit Halley’s Comet? I brought the Solar Wind off you people!”

Apolline typed into the computer, as she tried to figure out how to handle this. “Francois … Lemaire …”

The computer beeped before Lemaire could list more ‘accomplishments’.

Apolline looked at the display. Apparently Lemaire had also brought a bathyscape, Artic snowcrawler, and submersible from them as well.

Across the client file display in big, violent red letters was the words ‘Account Closed. Blacklisted’. Apolline’s eyes widened. Management wasn’t taking any chances here, were they?

She took a deep breath, and went for broke. “I am sorry, Mr Lemaire, it appears you do not have an appointment, and that you no longer qualify for a client file.”

Apolline had once been visiting friends in Sicily when Mount Etna had undergone it’s biggest eruption in recorded history. The effects of the volcano had nothing on Lemaire’s reaction.

“I AM FRANCOIS LEMAIRE!!!” he screamed. “I AM WORLD FAMOUS!!! I AM RICH!!!! YOU CANNOT REFUSE TO BUILD MY MOUNTAIN CLIMBING CAR!!! I WANT IT!!! AND YOU ARE GOING TO GIVE IT TO ME!!!”

Apolline got to work on the computer as the man continued his tantrum. DM channels; where was … Ah, here. Blacklist: Situation. She started typing rapidly.

Name: Apolline Morel

Section: Invoicing and Reception, Custom Transport Paris

Details: Francois Lemaire arrived office, no appointment, demand construction of ‘mountaineering car’ to be ‘first person to drive up Mt Everest’. Became hysterical on being told no longer qualifies for client file. Request assistance.

She hit send and eyed the time display discreetly inlaid into the desk’s surface. Response within ten minutes, the memo and training packages had said. Well, she’d be testing that promise out today.

She didn’t think she could stand more than ten minutes of this.

They were seven and a half minutes in and Apolline hadn’t seen evidence of Lemaire drawing in a breath as his high-volume tirade continued non-stop. Behind him, Madeline was disinterestedly examining her nails as the holocamera zoomed around the room erratically, closing in and out from Lemaire and careening around in circles, apparently controlled by Lemaire’s hand gestures, his wild gesticulation had sent it haywire.

She was just about to try again to speak when in the ceiling a previously unknown holoprojector flared into life.

Lemaire was finally silenced as everyone in the room stared in shock as a hologram – a very high quality, almost solid appearing hologram – of Scott Tracy appeared standing behind the desk, next to Apolline, as large as life, and almost as physically real.

Mr Tracy turned to Apolline. “Ms Morel,” he said, smiling slightly at her. “I am sorry that you have had to deal with this. Please, take an extended lunch break – with full pay.”

Apolline quickly swiped her employee card at the terminal, logging her out of the system and securing the terminal, and she stood, fighting the urge to curtsy to her employer.

“I am sorry to have bothered you, Mr Tracy. Thank you for your assistance. If you need me, I shall be in the employee lounge, sir.”

Scott smiled, and nodded. “Thank you, Ms Morel. Please take your time.”

He turned back to Lemaire as Apolline backed away, awed to be in the presence of the legendary Scott Tracy, even if said presence was a holographic one.

In the background, Madeline grinned at her, and gave her a discreet ‘thumbs up’ – Apolline smiled back at the woman, and mouthed ‘thank you’ to her.

Holographic Scott Tracy had turned his attention to Lemaire as Apolline ordered the elevator to take her to the second floor. “Now, Mr Lemaire, I believe there are some matters we need to clear up…” was the last thing she heard as the elevator doors closed.

It seemed like every member of Custom Transport Paris’s staff was crammed into the employee lounge.

Apolline barely had time to register this fact when Andre, her manager, seized her by the arm. “Apolline, are you all right? It must have been awful, dealing with that terrible man!”

“I’m fine. But what’s everyone doing here?”

“Word got around that Lemaire was here. We all wanted to see what would happen when you refused him service.”

Apolline snorted. “Thanks. Nobody thought to help me?”

“I think you had plenty of help, without us.” Andre gestured at the security hologram of the lobby and reception desk on display in the centre of the room.

Apolline stared. A holographic Lemaire was scowling at the equally unimpressed holographic (double-holographic?) Scott Tracy. “What’s happened?” she asked.

“After you left Mr Tracy ‘reminded’ Lemaire that he had been blacklisted, and no Tracy Industries companies would serve him.” Andre started.

“And Lemaire kicked off about how that it was illegal,” snickered Juan, one of the designers.

Andre glared at him. “Mr Tracy’s just finished going through the legal details of why and how that is allowed,” he continued. “Mr Tracy either has a very thorough knowledge of business and customer service law, or he has been very well briefed, very quickly.”

“Shhhh!” someone hushed from near the hologram. “It’s starting to get good!”

Everyone pushed closer to the hologram, those in front sitting or kneeling down to allow a better view for those in back.

The tiny Lemaire was pouting, “I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss, nobody died! Anyway, if the car that your company provides fails, you run International Rescue. You can stop people dying because your company provides inferior products.”

There were outraged gasps around the room. Most of the designers were casting longing looks at the door with clenched fists, but were being held in place by their friends from other departments.

Lemaire kept going. “Is that why you started International Rescue? So you can play the hero when your substandard products fail and put people in danger?” He was attempting to poke the hologram in the chest with his fingers. “You put me in danger! I could have got back from Halley’s Comet if your company had given me a safe spaceship.”

Scott Tracy’s eyes blazed. “MISTER Lemaire. I must warn you that, as per the signage, for security purposes the premises integrate security cameras, and that what you are saying is slander.” A hand appeared from behind Mr Tracy, disappearing into a red and black checked sleeve, and lightly touched his shoulder. Muttered words and Mr Tracy made a visible effort to calm himself, before speaking again and the hand disappeared.

“Mr Lemaire, your stated purpose for commissioning a quote ‘mountain climbing car’ is to ‘drive up’ Mount Sagarmatha–”

“Um, No! I’m going to drive up Mount Everest! I said that VERY clearly. Mount EVER-REST.”

“Mount Sagarmatha, and after your disastrous previous ‘expedition’ – and the numerous crimes you commited during that time–”

“What ‘crimes’? Now how’s slandering who? I committed no crimes!”

Mr Tracy stared. “You mean other than making false statements to gain your climb permit? Fraudulently claiming you had climbed other 8,000ft peaks? Fraudulently claiming you had appropriate insurance. Mistreatment of the Sherpas you hired? Interfering with burial sites?”

Lemaire shuddered. “I was not going to share a camp site with corpses,” he declared. “After all that fuss they made about ‘polluting’ the mountain, you think they’d clean up the corpses. Health hazard, that is.”

“Mr” – and there was no mistaking the disdain in that title – “Lemaire, Mount Sagarmatha is a recognised burial ground. It is dangerous to try and remove from the mountain anybody who cannot realistically be saved. What you did – pushing the bodies off the mountain – was a crime. And as such, the Nepalese Government deported you and banned you from ever returning to their country again.”

Lemaire waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not going back to Nepal. Why would I want to? Much better to drive up Mount Everest from Tibet. The route is all planned.”

There was a sigh. “In any case, other than approved helicopters at both North and South Face base camps, no mechanised vehicles are permitted on Mount Sagarmatha or Mount Chomolungma. Even Thunderbirds are forbidden under normal circumstances. As per our agreement with both the Nepalese and Tibetan Governments, International Rescue do not respond to calls from the Holy Mountain, other than at the request of the governments.” The disembodied hand returned, resting comforting on Mr Tracy’s shoulder.

Apolline shuddered. How many calls for help from dying mountaineers had they been forced to ignore? He heart ached, but she realised that the phrase ‘Holy Mountain’ was how Mr Tracy reminded himself that his help, there on a literal goddess, was not appropriate.

Lemaire sniffed. “Nobody will deny me. Nobody turns away the money I can pay. I’ll drive up Mount Everest. I’ll be the first person to do it, and the world will be watching.” He turned away. “And I’ll make sure everybody knows that Tracy Industries refuses to serve customers.”

Suddenly Lemaire spun back, again stabbing fingers at Mr Tracy’s holographic chest. “And don’t get any ideas about stealing my idea! I’ll sue you into poverty if I find out you’re even thinking about driving up Mount Everest before me!”

Lemaire turned again and flounced out of the building, the holocamera faithful tailing him, with Madeline reluctantly behind. Scott Tracy’s hologram remained, standing in front of the reception desk, hands on hips and frowning at the retreating ‘explorer’

In the employee lounge, people erupted into cheers and catcalls at Lemaire. There were backslaps and hugs all around.

All of which fell to awed silence as the hologram of the reception lobby disappeared to be replaced by the lifesized Scott Tracy. An eyebrow went up at the packed room, before he spoke. “Ms Morel?”

Apolline stepped into the holograms reception field – although she suspected from his reaction that when Mr Tracy accessed it, the reception field was greatly expanded – assisted by a push from Andre. “Yes, Mr Tracy?”

His eyes raked her, assessing, “I wanted to make sure you were alright after your … unpleasant … experience earlier.” His eyes darted around the room. “And I must say, I am very pleased to see you so ably supported by your colleagues.”

Mr Durand, the General Manager, stepped forward. “Please forgive us, Mr Tracy. Mr Lemaire has in the past been an unpleasant person for many of our staff to deal with. When it became apparent that he had returned, despite his Blacklisted status, many people hoped for the satisfaction of seeing him turned away.”

Mr Tracy nodded, thoughtfully. “I hope I didn’t disappoint.” A pause. “And, to further reassure you all, the recording of Mr Lemaire’s statements here today will be forwarded to the Nepalese, Tibetan, and Chinese Governments. If anyone is foolish enough to supply him with the vehicle he is trying to purchase, he will be stopped before he can get anywhere near the mountain.”

There was a general murmur of approval throughout the room, and Mr Tracy frowned again. “Mr Durand, you said that Mr Lemaire has been unpleasant do deal with in the past. Can you please forward to an elaboration on that to my email? And sometime in the next fortnight, please provide a list and broad details of any comparable clients. It appears we need to educate some of our customers as to how to behave politely in public.”

The General Manager nodded, as another murmur of appreciation went up around the room. Mr Tracy turned back to Apolline. “Ms Morel, I am deeply sorry that you had to deal with that outburst earlier. If you feel you need it, please do not hesitate to take time off. I will make sure you receive full pay for any time.”

Apolline gathered herself. “Thank you for your kindness, Mr Tracy. I am perfectly all right. I do not need any time away from work. And it is I who should apologise to you. I am sorry that I disturbed you to deal with this matter.”

Mr Tracy smiled easily. “No apology necessary, Ms Morel. I am afraid we did expect something like this when we instigated the Blacklist, it’s why we set up the Blacklist DM. The people we have been forced to refuse custom are … not known for their social skills, and tend to operate with little regard for safety and the welfare of others.”

Apolline bowed her head. “Then I am sorry that you have to deal with them, Mr Tracy. Hopefully, this will be the last time.”

Mr Tracy sighed. “I doubt it, Ms Morel. Unfortunately, other companies will build what he wants because they cannot afford to turn away commissions. And they will wash their conscience by saying it falls to others to ensure the rules he will break are upheld.”

Someone else spoke up then. “Do you really not rescue people off of Mount, uh –”

Mr Tracy smiled. “The highest mountain in the world? It does get rather confusing about the name issue, but it was only fifty years ago Nepal and Tibet agreed on the official height of the mountain. And as for agreeing on an official name … Well, miracles do happen.” Then he sighed. “And yes, as I told Mr Lemaire, unless we get official requests from the appropriate governments, we do not respond. It is part of the agreement International Rescue has with the Council of World Governments that allows us to operate. We wouldn’t park a Thunderbird in a church, we will not park one on the mountain. Everyone who climbs the mountain does so knowing the risks, and they must accept the consequences.” He seemed to wilt, “It’s hard, but we must do it.”

A klaxon sounded, and a voice announced, “International Rescue, we have a situation.”

Mr Tracy glanced over his shoulder, before turning back to his employees speaking rapidly. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to go. But thank you again, Ms Morel for your sterling work in a difficult situation, and thank you, everybody, for your support of your colleagues. It’s always a pleasure to see people who work together and look after each other. Mr Durand, I look forward to working with you to ensure our people are treated correctly. Tracy Island out.” The hologram fizzed and blinked out, the view of the empty lobby returning.

“Wow.” Apolline didn’t realise she had spoken until Andre placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Do as Mr Tracy says, Apolline, take some time. I’ll take over the desk for the rest of today.”

Apolline shook herself, and went to speak, but she saw the rest of the company nodding at her, encouragingly. She reconsidered. “Thank you, Andre. I think after this morning a break from reception will be welcome. I will work on invoicing today, if I may.”

Andre glanced at Mr Durand, and they both shrugged. “If you feel that’s best for you, Apolline,” he said.

Mr Durand nodded. “And before everybody returns to their work, may I please request that you provide me with details of past … unpleasant encounters, both with Mr Lemaire and other clients, as Mr Tracy requested. Hopefully we will be able to prevent further such displays.”

The room broke up, Apolline snatching her lunch from the refrigerator before joining the huddle of Invoicing and Reception staff returning to their backroom offices. As she joined in with her own stories of horrible customers, she felt a sense of pride. Not just in herself, but in her colleagues – her friends. Coming to work was still a pain many days, but Tracy Industries went out of its way to treat its people well.

And today proved how far out of its way it would go.

Notes:

I MAY have been fantasising a bit about employers who actually care about and support their employees.

I may also have been catching up on some reading / viewing and had a convergence of Mt Everest (name used for simplicity) related 'texts' (most of which is 'Dead Lucky: life after death on Mount Everest' by Lincoln Hall) - and I now understand MORE about the logistics of doing so, and understand LESS about why anyone would be so insane as to wish to do so.

I hope everyone has employers and colleagues as supportive as Apolline has.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbird fanfic #fanfic #my fanfic #scott tracy #tracy industries #francois lemaire #a new policy

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sims4cars-breezemotors · 1 year ago

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“Built to last”

1969 Peugeot 504 🇫🇷

It was the Car of the Year for 1969, defeating the BMW, the Alfa Romeo and the luxurious Jaguar XJ6. It was a car that would be seen across the world – from Paris to Sydney and from Nairobi to Lagos. It is, of course, the Peugeot 504. Most importantly, the latest Peugeot was built to the highest standards. The company’s famed philosophy of quality was based on exacting design studies and development programmes that considered every component to the last detail. The 504 was intended to offer a comfortable ride over the worst of road services and to be a car that you could depend upon in the worst of circumstances. For the ‘executive motorist’ there was the Injection and in the words of Autocar in 1968 it was ‘among Europe’s finest touring cars’.

Available exclusively for “No Limits” and “All Inclusive” tiers this February. Since March 1’st. Available for All Inclusive tier only.

Model with HQ interior, open/close doors and functional light.

Go and join my Patreon!

#the sims 4 #sims 4 #sims4 #sims4car #the sims 4 cc #the sims 4 custom content #thesims4cars #the sims 4 cars #sims4vehicles #the sims #sims 4 cc find #the sims 4 cc finds

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elisysd · 1 year ago

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A trip to Bali

Masterlist

8 months after Paris

Ethan and Julia - 25 years old

He had welcomed the summer break with pleasure. The first part of his season hadn’t been the way he had hoped to. Of course, he had to get used to the machine that was Lamborghini. More services, more people working, bigger sponsors, bigger pressure than what he had known in Maserati. And the car wasn’t meeting his expectations either. He could still feel Kyle in the way it had been developed, making it hard for him to find a good feeling. His driving style and Kyle’s were not alike.

Until there, the season had been challenging and stressful. But he was determined to help wherever he could and to give his all. But for now, he was enjoying a nice afternoon, in the pool of the luxurious hotel he had decided to spend two weeks of doing nothing with his girlfriend. Julia was resting on a lounge chair, her sunglasses, covering her eyes. She was busy letting her pen wander on the page of her sketchbook. Feeling alone and bored, Ethan swam to her.

“Are you drawing me?” he asked.

“I’m drawing the landscape.”

“I’m part of the landscape.”

She chuckled, closing her sketchbook and putting it aside before joining him in the pool.

“I’ve never thought I would ever say this but, if I could stay here forever with you, I would. I don’t want to go back.” he said, pinning her against one of the pool’s walls, and burying his head in her neck.

“I know it’s hard and it’s not what you thought it would be but hang on. It’ll get better.”

“I think I was naive. I thought that now that I was in a top team, one that is used to winning, I would realise my dream. I didn’t think they would screw up the car development… Kyle left but his shadow is everywhere.”

“It was a brutal change for everyone, no one expected Kyle to leave. You need time to adjust.” Julia tried to reassure him, a hand on his cheek.

“It’s frustrating. I’m good but I can’t show it like I want to.”

“You’ll get there.” she promised him, before giving him a kiss.

They spend the rest of the day, playing in the pool and sunbathing, just enjoying each other’s presence. They were in their own bubble, one they didn’t want to leave. Heavy topics were left aside until dinner when Ethan noticed that Julia was barely listening to him and seemed in her own world. When he asked her what was wrong she shrugged.

“It’s nothing. While you were getting ready for the restaurant I got a call from my dad. He wants to know if I’m ready to join Ferrari.”

“I was thinking about it. How different it will be for us one you’ll start there… I’ve been used to have you around in the Lamborghini garage.”

“That’s the thing… I’m not sure I want to go back there.” she confessed.

“What? Why? That was your dream.”

“I know but, dreams change. And I didn’t think I would enjoy working on Somnis so much. We’re launching the program officially with registrations and all at the end of the season and I want to be fully involved in the preparations. Finding interveners for the summer classes, organising the activities… I don’t want to give up on that. I’m just scared I’ll disappoint my dad.”she explained.

“He would be disappointed if you were doing something that was making you unhappy. For what is worth, I support you and I’m not saying that because it means that I’ll get to have you for myself for the rest of the year.”

“And the year after. You’re stuck with me.” she smiled. “I’ll call him later. Could you stay with me?”

“I’ll hold your hand, if you want me to.”

“I know it’s stupid but I’m feeling so ungrateful to turn it down after everything he’s done for me and all the shit I’ve put him through. I know I shouldn’t feel that way. I’m doing something that I love, something I’m passionate about, it’s what matters but…”

“Overthinker once, always an overthinker.”

“Exactly.”

Ethan took her hand in his, kissing her knuckles as they were starting to eat their dessert before coming back to their room. They changed into night clothes, Julia took more time than usually to do her night routine, pushing the moment she would have to call her dad as further away as possible. When she finally came back from the bathroom and laid down her head on Ethan’s chest. As he felt her slowly drifting to sleep, he took her phone and handed it to her.

“You have something to do.”

“It’s morning there….” she complained.

“Julia…”

“Fine.”

She sighed and sat down as Ethan was doing the same, and pressed the call button. It didn’t take long for her dad to answer. After a quick smalltalk, Julia told him she had an important thing to say and proceeded to explain him what she had talked about with Ethan.

“You have all the right to be disappointed and angry, I’ll understand but I’ve given a lot of thoughts and…”

“I don’t care Julia. you don’t have to justify yourself. I’m not angry and even less disappointed. If anything, I’m proud of you. You’re doing something that makes you happy and that’s the only thing I could ever wish for but if one day, you want to join me, I’ll be more than happy to have you onboard.”

Julia looked at Ethan biting her lips but with her eyes full of relief. She thanked her dad, promising to visit him as soon as she would be back from her holidays and dropped the call.

“I told you, you had nothing to worry about.” Ethan said, pulling her against him.

“Thank you, for being there, though. And I’m sorry to use you as emotional support.”

“You listened to me for the past six months complaining about Lamborghini, I can handle you complaining for a day. And I’m glad you talked to me about your insecurities and feelings.”

“Look at us communicating… Who would have thought?” she laughed.

“Me. I’ve always had faith in us. Even when it was tough, I’ve always known he would overcome everything life was throwing at us. Because I loved you, and I keep on finding new things to love about you everyday.”

“Alright, mister romantic, I think it’s time for you to sleep.”

Author's note: And here is your first bonus chapter! They are all gong to be in this vibe: short, sweet and funny. I hope you will like them as muchh as I do.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

#writing #fiction #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x oc #charles leclerc fanfic #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen

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generalluxun · 2 years ago

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Desert Rose (poem fic)

So @jnephrite wanted Lukloé content. Then I hear Desert Rose by Sting on the way in, and poof. We get this. I hope you enjoy. Full text and link to the song below the cut. It's also on AO3(Link in Bio) if you think it's worth a comment or some love there.

They celebrated on the water. A flood of joy, Monarch was gone. The whole city was alive, but this lagoon of family and friends was his own.

He saw her a space apart. Silence amid the song. Cultivated beauty poisoned, potted in a limo and watered with gold.

"Take me to the Med." He said by way of greeting.

She glared and rolled her eyes. She told him he was ridiculous.

"Egypt, I want to know another river."

He listened more than she spoke, music in the air. The plane, the city, the hotel. Tens of thousands just to prove him wrong.

"Come on." He pulled her from the line of tourists.

He spoke the language of pilgrims eternal, and help was there. A car, horses, travel garb, and a lyre for the truth.

She complained in the dialect of skyscrapers when they left the car behind. She grumbled in a room service accent at the smell of horses.

He led the way off the path across the sands and she followed, only one of them was lost.

Everything fell away before open sand, the song she carried with her went silent.

Down into a lee, in the shelter of unlikely rocks he turned and led them to a tiny oasis.

How? She wanted to know.

"Water knows its own."

Green life, cool water, shade, and song he showed her. How could anyone not see?

She walked away. She left behind his song and the vitality of new life.

He found her turban strewn like garland; her boots planted on the last of the grass. Her shadow lingered atop a shielding dune then vanished.

He scrambled up sucking slopes to the peak, the sun ambushed the reckless hunter, blinding.

She danced upon the waste.

His fingers itched. The lyre betrayed its name, he found a song.

She danced on, zephyrs spun in sympathy; gritty breathless gasps.

Her tawb joined the rest. The sun promised pain.

Dischord. He played slow but her pace quickened.

Poise became plunder. Violence shattered peace. His fingers stilled.

She plunged and stomped, twisted and arched. It all amounted to nothing, the sand fell back, uncaring.

He shivered in revelation. It was a song unsought, unseen, unknown.

The melody was in the fight. The thrashing was the rhythm. Futility was harmony.

The dry air stole her water. The sun scorched her hair. She did not stop. She fell.

He rode back with her swaddled against his chest. He hummed the melody of futility.

In Paris the world moved on. From the deck of his home he could see the roof of her ivory tower.

Luxury made of sand.

He caught her more than once upon the banks. He played songs of water to quench her thirst. She did not speak.

Everything was for the fight.

#ml fanfiction #chloe bourgeois #luka couffaine #lukloe #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #prose poem #I'm bad at poems #I hope this one is okay

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srahpaulsons · 2 years ago

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The hours chimed, as did the evening sky as it started setting upon the city of Paris. Sarah had made reservations day’s prior, knowing once these shows settled down, both woman could breath. The idea of treating Jess, it excelled such a giddiness within the younger woman, it had since the very first second the idea of setting up a date became their reality, and that feeling remained every single time. As Jess stayed put at their hotel suite, upon request from the brunette to dress in her finest attire, Sarah roamed off for the rest of the afternoon. Getting lost in such a city was always a gift, as was getting more lost in said luxurious stores, searching for the perfect dress to whisk jess off for the evening. Remaining conscious of the time, she kept checking the clock upon her phone, nodding with realisation the extra time meant new shoes and lingerie were definitely in the question. with the white lace lingerie, and the backless dusty green silk dress, Sarah found herself leaving the last store ready to set herself onto the next, and last duty before heading back to their hotel. Pulling the over size suit jacket over her shoulders, sarah kept her eye’s peeled, grinning as she walked near the pure level of “romance” the city had to offer, a fresh rose’s were being sold, taking one.

As the sun was already setting, Sarah found herself suddenly halted in a cab, her phone service going blank, and her eye’s rolling at the situation she was now once again in “oh great” she huffed to herself. As the minutes passed, and the car moved in waves, closer and closer to their hotel, her patience wore thin, checking constantly at the phone service as she tried reaching the older woman. What felt like an hour, was just nearer the 30 minute mark, and as her door finally flung open, the heels on her feet came off as she power walked through the looby, into the elevator and finally, their floor. Placing the heels back on, and brushing the strays from her now very flustered completion, Sarah knocked playfully over their door “room service...” she announced, placing the rose her mouth as effect | @jessiicalange

#‧ ╱ ╱ 𝐣𝐞𝐬𝐬 ‧#‧ ╱ ╱ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚 ‧

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europeincoming-24 · 16 hours ago

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Exploring the Role of Inbound Tour Operators and MICE Tours in the Travel Industry

Inbound tour operators and MICE tours are vital pillars of the travel industry, catering to both leisure and business travelers. They specialize in delivering unique, immersive experiences that connect travelers to new destinations while addressing diverse travel needs. Let’s dive into their roles, services, and how they contribute to the global travel ecosystem.

What is an Inbound Tour Operator?

An inbound tour operator is a travel service provider that specializes in organizing travel experiences for international visitors arriving in a specific country or region. These operators act as local experts, curating itineraries, handling logistics, and ensuring seamless travel experiences.

Services Offered by Inbound Operator:

Custom Itineraries: Tailored tours that showcase the destination's culture, history, and attractions.

Accommodation Arrangements: Partnerships with hotels, resorts, and local stays.

Transportation: Organizing transfers, car rentals, and local transport.

Guided Tours: Access to knowledgeable guides for immersive experiences.

Specialized Activities: From adventure sports to culinary tours, they cater to niche interests.

Benefits of Inbound Tour Operators:

Local Expertise: In-depth knowledge of the destination, ensuring authentic experiences.

Hassle-Free Travel: Handling all logistics so travelers can focus on enjoying their trip.

Safety and Reliability: Providing support and assistance throughout the journey.

Inbound tour operators are essential for international travelers unfamiliar with a destination. Whether it’s a cultural expedition in India, a wildlife safari in Africa, or a scenic tour of the Alps, these operators ensure every detail is meticulously planned.

MICE Tour: Redefining Business Travel

MICE (Meetings, Incentives, Conferences, and Exhibitions) tours cater to corporate travelers and businesses seeking professional event planning combined with travel experiences. MICE tours are not just about business; they blend work with leisure, creating meaningful and engaging experiences.

Key Features of MICE Tour:

Meeting Management: Organizing business meetings with state-of-the-art facilities.

Incentive Travel: Rewarding employees or partners with memorable trips.

Conference Planning: Coordinating large-scale conferences, seminars, and summits.

Exhibition Services: Facilitating trade shows and promotional events.

Benefits of MICE Tours:

Professional Execution: From venue selection to event coordination, every detail is handled.

Engagement and Networking: Opportunities to connect with industry peers in a professional yet relaxed environment.

Inspiring Destinations: Combining business with exploration and team-building activities.

For instance, a company hosting an annual conference in Paris might incorporate sightseeing tours of the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre for attendees. This combination of business and leisure enhances the overall experience, making MICE tours a preferred choice for corporate travel.

The Role of Inbound Tour Operators in MICE Tours

Inbound tour operators play a crucial role in the success of MICE tour, particularly for international events. Their local expertise and established networks ensure that all aspects of the trip are managed efficiently.

How Inbound Operators Enhance MICE Tours:

Local Logistics: Managing airport transfers, local transport, and accommodations.

Cultural Experiences: Incorporating authentic local activities into the itinerary.

Event Support: Coordinating with venues and vendors for seamless execution.

Post-Event Activities: Organizing leisure activities, such as city tours or adventure excursions, for participants.

For example, an inbound tour operator in Dubai handling a corporate event might arrange a conference at a luxury hotel, followed by a desert safari or a dinner cruise along the Marina. These added experiences make the event memorable and impactful.

The Synergy Between Inbound Tour Operators and MICE Tours

The collaboration between inbound tour operators and MICE tour exemplifies the industry’s ability to deliver tailored solutions for diverse travel needs. While inbound operators provide the local expertise required to navigate a destination, MICE tours bring structured, professional event management to the table.

Case Study: A Corporate Retreat in Thailand

A multinational company plans an incentive trip for its top-performing employees in Thailand. The inbound tour operator handles all logistics, including airport transfers, accommodations at a beachfront resort, and local excursions. Meanwhile, the MICE tour team organizes a gala dinner, team-building activities, and a workshop on leadership.

This partnership ensures a seamless experience, blending leisure with professional development, leaving participants inspired and motivated.

Adapting to Changing Travel Trends

As the travel industry evolves, inbound tour operators and MICE tours are adapting to new demands, such as sustainable tourism, personalization, and technological integration.

Emerging Trends:

Sustainable Practices: Eco-friendly accommodations, carbon-neutral events, and local community support.

Technology Integration: AI-driven itineraries, virtual tours, and real-time updates for seamless travel.

Personalization: Customized experiences tailored to the preferences of travelers or corporate groups.

Hybrid Events: Combining physical and virtual components to cater to diverse audiences.

Conclusion

Inbound tour operators and MICE tour are integral to the travel industry, providing unparalleled services that cater to leisure and business travelers alike. From crafting personalized itineraries to executing large-scale corporate events, these professionals ensure every journey is memorable and stress-free.

Whether you're a traveler seeking an authentic cultural experience or a business planning a global event, inbound operators and MICE tour providers are your trusted partners. Together, they deliver the perfect blend of professionalism, creativity, and local expertise, transforming ordinary trips into extraordinary adventures.

Explore the possibilities and let these experts redefine your travel experience, one journey at a time.

#europe #travel destinations #tourism #traveling #travel #mice

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weepingbluebirdqueen · 1 month ago

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Luxury transfer to Disneyland Paris Family-friendly taxi to Disneyland Paris Disneyland car service Shuttle service Disneyland Paris Direct transfer to Disneyland Paris hotels

What is a luxury transfer to Disneyland Paris? Answer: A luxury transfer to Disneyland Paris provides high-end vehicles, professional chauffeurs, and a comfortable ride directly to your destination, ensuring a premium experience.

Are family-friendly taxis available for Disneyland Paris? Answer: Yes, family-friendly taxis to Disneyland Paris are equipped with spacious seating, child seats (on request), and extra room for luggage, ensuring a safe and convenient journey for families.

What is the Paris Disneyland car service? Answer: The Paris Disneyland car service offers private, door-to-door transportation between Paris city center and Disneyland Paris, catering to both individuals and groups.

How does the shuttle service to Disneyland Paris work? Answer: Shuttle services to Disneyland Paris provide shared or private transportation from key locations like airports or hotels, offering a convenient and budget-friendly option.

What is included in a direct transfer to Disneyland Paris hotels? Answer: A direct transfer to Disneyland Paris hotels includes pick-up from your chosen location (airport, city, or train station) and a seamless ride to your hotel with no unnecessary stops.

Can I book a luxury transfer from Paris to Disneyland Paris? Answer: Absolutely! You can book a luxury transfer to Disneyland Paris online, with options for premium vehicles and customized services.

Are taxis to Disneyland Paris child-friendly? Answer: Yes, taxis to Disneyland Paris cater to families by providing child safety seats and plenty of space for a comfortable family journey.

What is the difference between a car service and a shuttle service to Disneyland Paris? Answer: A car service offers private, exclusive rides, while a shuttle service is often shared with other passengers, making it more economical but less personalized.

How do I arrange a direct transfer to my Disneyland Paris hotel? Answer: You can arrange a direct transfer by booking online through services like PrivateTaxi.fr, selecting your pick-up location and hotel destination.

Is the Paris Disneyland car service suitable for groups? Answer: Yes, the car service can accommodate groups with larger vehicles or multiple cars, depending on the group size.

Can I request a specific pick-up time for a shuttle service to Disneyland Paris? Answer: Yes, most shuttle services allow you to select a convenient pick-up time when making your reservation.

How long does a direct transfer from Paris to Disneyland Paris hotels take? Answer: A direct transfer typically takes about 40-60 minutes, depending on traffic and the exact pick-up location.

Are luxury transfers to Disneyland Paris worth it? Answer: Yes, luxury transfers are ideal for those seeking comfort, privacy, and a stress-free journey, perfect for special occasions or premium experiences.

What amenities are available in family-friendly taxis to Disneyland? Answer: Amenities in family-friendly taxis may include child seats, spacious interiors, and entertainment options for children during the journey.

Can I book a car service to Disneyland Paris for late-night transfers? Answer: Yes, car services like PrivateTaxi.fr offer 24/7 availability, ensuring you can book a transfer at any time, even late at night.

#Luxury transfer to Disneyland Paris #Family-friendly taxi to Disneyland #Paris Disneyland car service #Shuttle service Disneyland Paris #Direct transfer to Disneyland Paris hotels

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airporservice · 2 years ago

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Airport Lounge Services: Travel with utmost comfort

Read More :- https://airportassistancehub.com/blog/airport-lounge-services-travel-with-utmost-comfort/

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airrport-transfer · 10 days ago

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Beauvais Luxury Airport Transfer

RyanairThe Airport gives vacationers a continuing revel in at Beauvais Airport (Aéroport de Beauvais-Tillé), located simply outside the colourful metropolis of Beauvais, France. Whether you are heading out on a holiday or getting back from an exciting adventure, knowledge the fine details of Beauvais Airport can assist make your adventure smoother. Let’s discover everything you need to recognize approximately Beauvais Airport and the way Beauvais Luxury Airport Transfer can assist you.

What is Beauvais Luxury Airport Transfer?

RyanairThe Airport is your depended on guide to all things related to Beauvais Airport. As one of the leading low-price vendors working from this airport, Ryanair performs a large function in making tour low-priced for lots of passengers. RyanairThe Airport offers now not simply flight services but also crucial airport information to ensure a strain-loose journey enjoy.

Why Choose Beauvais Luxury Airport Transfer?

Beauvais Airport is well-known for its finances-friendly journey alternatives, mainly with Ryanair providing severa flights to diverse European destinations. Choosing RyanairThe Airport way you’ll get greater than just less expensive flights. You'll have easy get right of entry to to services together with:

Flight reserving assistance

Travel suggestions for a clean airport experience

Up-to-date facts on arrivals and departures

Airport facilities overview

RyanairThe Airport guarantees your revel in at Beauvais is each enjoyable and stress-free.

Key Airports in Beauvais

Though Beauvais Airport is one of the maximum well-known airports inside the region, it’s crucial to know different airports inside the area to enlarge your journey alternatives. Some of the most crucial close by airports consist of:

Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport (CDG)

Located about 85 kilometers from Beauvais, Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport is one of the busiest airports in Europe. Serving fundamental worldwide flights, it's miles a enormous hub for travelers from around the sector. If you’re seeking out a broader range of worldwide destinations, CDG is a great opportunity.

Visit Paris Charles de Gaulle Airport for more information on services and flights.

Paris Orly Airport (ORY)

Another fundamental airport close to Beauvais is Paris Orly Airport, about seventy five kilometers away. It handles both home and international flights and gives smooth get right of entry to to Paris metropolis center. Many Ryanair flights operate out of this airport as well, making it a handy option for European travelers.

For greater facts, you can go to the official Paris Orly Airport site.

Lille Airport (LIL)

If you’re exploring northern France, Lille Airport is an option around 160 kilometers from Beauvais. With Ryanair services connecting to more than one destinations in Europe, it's miles a great opportunity for travelers heading to the northern regions of France or nearby countries.

Discover greater about Lille Airport on their official website.

How to Get to Beauvais Airport

When flying with RyanairThe Airport from Beauvais, it’s important to devise how you’ll get to the airport. Located approximately four kilometers from the city center of Beauvais, the airport is effortlessly accessible with the aid of numerous manner of shipping:

By Shuttle Bus

A commute bus runs frequently among Beauvais Train Station and Beauvais Airport, making it easy for passengers to attach from the metropolis center to the terminal. The journey takes around 15-20 mins.

By Taxi

Taxis are to be had on the airport and at some point of the metropolis. The journey from Beauvais city middle to the airport generally takes round 10 mins.

By Car

Beauvais Airport offers lots of parking alternatives for those driving to the airport. Whether you need brief-term or lengthy-term parking, you could discover appropriate spaces at the airport for a convenient journey revel in.

Facilities at Beauvais Airport

Beauvais Airport is smaller as compared to essential international airports, but it still offers important centers for a snug adventure. Some of the offerings encompass:

Wi-Fi: Stay related with unfastened Wi-Fi within the terminal.

Shops: A range of duty-loose shops and retail outlets.

Restaurants: Enjoy a meal on the airport’s cafes and snack bars.

Currency Exchange: If you want to alternate cash earlier than your flight, there are currency trading services to be had.

Lounges: Relax in a comfortable lounge before your flight.

How RyanairThe Airport Enhances Your Experience

Beauvais Airport To Beauvais Train Station strives to improve your journey enjoy with the aid of imparting timely updates, specific offers, and vital airport steerage. Whether you’re a primary-time tourist or a common flyer, RyanairThe Airport guarantees you live informed, so that you can consciousness on enjoying your ride. With clean commands on airport procedures and services, your journey via Beauvais will be as clean as feasible.

FAQs

How do I ebook a flight with Ryanair from Beauvais?

You can effortlessly e book a flight with Ryanair via travelling the Ryanair website. Simply select your departure from Beauvais, pick your vacation spot, and whole the booking method.

What transport alternatives are available from Beauvais Airport?

You can take a trip bus, taxi, or drive to Beauvais Airport. The travel bus is the maximum common choice, presenting a quick 15-minute experience from Beauvais Train Station to the airport.

Is there Wi-Fi at Beauvais Airport?

Yes, Beauvais Airport offers unfastened Wi-Fi to passengers at some point of the terminal, so you can live connected while looking ahead to your flight.

What are the top locations served with the aid of Ryanair from Beauvais?

Ryanair offers flights to various European locations from Beauvais, such as popular cities like London, Barcelona, Rome, and Milan. Check the Ryanair website for the entire listing of locations.

How early must I arrive at Beauvais Airport?

It is recommended to reach as a minimum two hours before your scheduled departure to allow time for take a look at-in, security, and boarding, in particular in case you're visiting on a Ryanair flight.

With RyanairThe Airport, your travel thru Beauvais Airport may be an fun and green experience. Make sure to plan beforehand and take benefit of all the services available to make your journey as clean as possible. Safe travels!

Phone: +33 6 85 53 48 46

Email: [email protected]

Address: Upper region of France

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