#sir I beg your finest bubble gum pink pardon? what is rent?

[blondiexbiites]

Chris stares at what was once his living room now adorned in pink. Brown hues scan his record player adorned frills and even his eldritch cat held a pink bow. His hellhound scowled at the frills that decorated his paws. "...Maddie," he sighs with a sip of his coffee, "You know I don't mind you staying with me for a bit....but if you're gonna make some changes, you're going to have to start paying rent."

The blonde looked up from her drying nails, blinking. Her interest caught—who was rent?—Madison stared at Chris before the realization settled in…and the bottom dropped out of her stomach.

Oh.

The witch stared at her with the same firm, unblinking gaze she remembered whenever she crossed the line and broke a house rule. Oh, he was serious. Shock slammed into her like a tidal wave and her lips curled; she was the rent he was talking about. No other women were in the room, no one else he could mean. "You're going to have to start paying rent." Icy fingers of sheer panic laced around her spine, but then common sense reasserted itself and she relaxed. Rent? Oh, that was easy!

She already had a sugar daddy who spoiled her rotten.

"Okay, but I get to choose which of my jewelry you can pawn off. Just not this one." Madison lifted her dainty foot and studied the platinum and diamond anklet that circled her right ankle, enjoying the way the dangling diamond glittered in the lamp lighting of the living room, the way the platinum glowed against her pale skin. The anklet had been one of Mr. Rochester's many gifts when he’d been very pleased about her making him look good in front of all his big wig friends at the evening yacht party.

In fact, she wouldn’t mind a matching bracelet—not that she ever hinted.

She was always very careful not to ask Mr. Rochester for too much, and to ooh and aah over everything he gave her even if it was garish, because even garish crap could be sold to pay rent. Madison had no illusions about the permanency of her position in Mr. Rochester's life as his sugar baby. Right now she was at the top of her game, mature enough to be womanly, young enough that she didn’t have to worry about gray wrinkles. She was a vampire and eternal youth came with the mental anguish of never seeing the sun again or eating chocolate.

"Or you could sell some of your vinyl records. I mean, I know it's vintage and all, but like, you should totally start investing in Apple products to play your super old music."

To keep from looking at him and maybe finding that disapproving stare locked on her again, Maddie pretended to examine the magenta polish on her toenails. She had put it on just that morning, thinking it would look interesting against the creamy white pink of the silk lounge outfit she was currently wearing, but the purple under-tones were too vulgar and made her look like a cheap tramp. She should have gone with a shell pink, something delicate and almost transparent to compliment the outfit instead of contrasting with it. Oh, poo. What to do? What to do?

Speaking of shell pink.

"FYI, I'll be doing some more redecorating to the living room." The blonde picked up a catalog and threw it at him to catch. "The entire set for the living room costs one grand. You're going to pay for it, right? It's all the rage in Paris."

@bewitchingbaker