Errands and bad news

Alkim

True to his word, Alkim went shopping for Kate’s breast pump. Not wanting to wait for Amazon free shipping (he’d already cancelled his Prime membership to save money), he just looked up stores that sold pumps and other maternal supplies, and decided to check them out himself.

He hadn’t done a lot of research online, but he’d volunteered for a few months in the postpartum ward of a hospital, and learned a thing or two from the resident lactation consultant. Crazy how many babies can’t figure out breastfeeding, literally the only thing they’re required to know instinctively. Alkim figured a manual pump would be too inconvenient for her, especially with Kate’s size and general laziness. Electric was the way to go, but beyond that he was a bit stumped.

Alkim ruled out most for being too expensive, and settled for what he thought Kate might prefer based on her habits: a pair of motorized pumps that came with a rechargeable battery, so she wouldn’t always need to pump by an outlet. He wasn’t sure if she would need to hold them on or stay seated while she pumped, but it seemed like they could work hands-free if she had a nursing bra or something to help keep them attached. She could work that part out for herself if she wanted to keep up her phone addiction while she milked herself.

The only problems he could really foresee were the little glass vessels the pumps emptied into. Though they seemed adequate enough for most women, he hadn’t exactly gotten an accurate measurement of Kate’s production last night, since almost all of it had gone straight into his mouth, but it wasn’t a small amount, and that was only her starting production. Last night was her first time expressing, and—thanks to Alkim—her tits were still growing, which meant the peak of her production lay far ahead.

Soon enough, these baby bottles may have to be emptied out several times a session. That could be a major inconvenience for Kate. She might get annoyed having to switch out the bottles too many times, find the pumping irritates her skin, and end up opting for a more personal touch…

Alkim bought that pump, plus some absorbent pads, and other miscellaneous objects he thought might come in handy. He kept hair ties and tampons in his car for the girls, so he might as well include some pads for Kate's milkers.

Then he hit up the H-Mart for some Korean groceries: noodles, sliced meat, vegetables, soup mix, and soju. After his and Mikaella’s debut shoot, they could celebrate with some homemade hotpot.

Just before he was about to go, he remembered to grab something for Vicky’s homecoming dinner. He decided to make her a roast duck. That way, he could marinate it for several days in the fridge, and it would be ready for the oven once Vicky was back.

Satisfied with his next several days worth of meals, he drove home. The day’s shopping had left his bank account balance in the lower four digits, but he was confident that his fortunes would be reversing soon enough.

His prediction was swiftly proven correct, just not in the way he’d hoped.

When he pulled back into the driveway, he found a middle-aged woman overseeing a worker hammering a sign into their front yard that read “FOR SALE.”

Shit! So the landlords are selling.

He got out of the car and tried to grab as many bags of groceries as possible in one go, but it was far too late to hide. The worker ignored Alkim, but the woman made a beeline straight for him.

Landlady, then.

She certainly walked like a lady; confident and secure within her little fiefdom.

“Excuse me, young man, are you renting here?” She took off her sunglasses. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Of course not, I’m not on the lease.

Alkim felt like a humble shopkeeper about to get his ass kicked over protection money. He dreaded answering, but figured he didn’t have much of a choice.

“No, I don’t believe we have.” He set down his grocery bags, and extended his hand. “I’m Alkim.”

She hesitated for a half second before placing her well-manicured hand into his calloused palm. “Charmed. Ania Davtyan, I own this property.” With her left hand she lifted her white, wide-brimmed hat to get a better look at him, while her right hand lingered for some time in his. “Oh my, that’s a strong grip.”

Ania was actually not half-bad looking herself. Black hair, sharp black eyebrows, dark brown eyes, a somewhat large nose, but still far from unattractive. Her looks and the slightest hints of her accent told him she was probably from somewhere in the Eastern Mediterranean, and he guessed her age at somewhere around late thirties, or early forties. It helped that her outfit screamed “Power-MILF.”

She wore wedge-heels, and a backless, floral-print summer dress: dark blue fabric, covered in green and teal leaves. The dress highlighted both her slender torso, and moderate bust, while the belt around her wasp waist accentuated her hourglass build and very, very wide, matronly hips.

Wonder if she has an ass to match?

Alkim didn’t know anything about fashion, as every girl he’d dated could attest, but he knew enough to understand that this lady had serious money; her white purse alone probably cost more than his used three-series BMW, while her pearl necklace, gold watch, and diamond earrings together could have paid for all four years of his tuition.

Nice perfume too. Though the scent’s identity was far beyond him, it was warm, elegant, and didn’t burn his nose like cheaper aromatics. He wondered if the bottle was expensive enough to put a dollar value on each application.

Ania Davtyan… is she Armenian? If I guess right, she might be less inclined to enforce the fine print of Kate’s lease agreement. Fuck it. Worth a shot.

“Nice to meet you. Davtyan, is that by chance an Armenian name?”

Her eyes widened in mild surprise, “Why yes, it is. How did you know? Are you Armenian?” She looked him up and down, squinting in confusion. “Part Armenian?”

“No, I just know a lot of Armenians.” And I’m good at disarming my elders. “My mother’s Arab, but my father’s Chinese.”

“Really?” She lifted her hat again to appraise his features even more closely.

“Yes, mam.”

“Well, how… exotic.” She smiled brightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever met an Alkim before. When did you move in here? I don’t recall Kate subleasing to any men, and I wasn't informed of any changes in tenants.”

“Ah, my apologies Ms-” Oh shit, almost overlooked that big, fat diamond ring!-“Mrs. Davtyan, no one told me about that. I just moved here a couple months ago.” Fuck, what’s the least bad answer for breaking the lease agreement? “I’m dating one of your tenants.” That’s probably better than revealing that Kate invited a near stranger to move into the spare room without authorization.

“Oh? May I ask who?”

Pretty nosey question. “Mikaella.”

“Hmm. And how old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“My, my, so young. And do you go to school in the area?”

“No, mam, I just graduated from UCLA in June.”

“Oh? Smart boy, that’s a very good school.”

“Thank you.”

“What did you study there?”

“I majored in biology.”

“And what kind of work can you get with that degree?”

Very little, and I quit my restaurant job to start a porn site with your tenant. “I work for one of my professors as a teacher’s assistant.” he lied.

“Oh, really? Summer classes?” She smiled bemusedly. “What do you teach?”

“It’s always biology, but the exact subject changes every quarter. Right now it’s marine biology.”

“So, you like the beach, is that it?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He suddenly realized that even his cover lie made him sound like a total loser, but it was far too late to pick a better story.

She smirked up at him from the shade of her fancy hat, “Well, it’s comforting to know there are still people in this fame-obsessed city following their passions, and not just chasing after money or status. And you’re sure the rent here in K-Town is not too much for you?”

“No, not too bad.” Can’t beat free.

“Well, good to know that the public sector hasn’t let you down completely.”

Alkim had to admit it, Mrs. Davtyan was very good at her job. Here she was, building rapport with someone she was planning to kick off her property, and he’d gotten so caught up in making polite smalltalk that he’d yet to ask her about the sale.

“Now, about that sign…” he began, but she cut him off.

“Yes, I’m putting this property up for sale, as well as the neighboring houses. The notice is already up on the door.” Alkim turned to see she was telling the truth. “And if I recall correctly, Kate’s lease will be up in,” she checked her phone, “three months.”

Bitch!

A spike of rage welled up within Alkim. He wanted to yell, curse her, call her a rent-seeker, a parasite on the working class. Fortunately, good manners, and kissing-ass to authority figures had been drilled into him much too deeply for that kind of talk to escape his lips. Especially not when there were so many ways she could worsen his situation, not to mention that of his housemates.

Not like I have money for a tenant lawyer right now. Need to google California's eviction laws.

He took a deep breath and put on what he hoped was his most conciliatory face.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything we could do to change your mind about selling? We really like the house, and the area, and we’d hate to have to move again so soon.” It was a long shot, but he had to at least attempt an appeal to decency.

“Afraid not, business decision. Now, if Kate wants to buy the place outright, then she can make an offer like everyone else.” She eyed him up and down again, bit her lower lip, and considered. “However, I have plenty of other properties in the area. All over the county, as a matter of fact. I’d be happy to help a polite, educated, handsome young man like yourself find another place to stay…”

She stepped right up to him, filling the air with her scent, and dug around in her purse for what turned out to be a card and a Montblanc pen.

“Here’s my card.” She mumbled, writing something on it first. When she held it out for Alkim to take, the glint from her fancy watch almost blinded him.

“Thank you,” He took the card with a fake smile, and pocketed it without looking.

She put away the pen and pulled out her phone, “Now, how did you spell your name again?”

“A-L-K-I-M.”

“Last name, and your number?”

He gave them to her, and she immediately texted him her full name, and the listings for several properties.

“Take a look at these listings when you get a chance, and give me a call or a text on the number I texted to you. Those are all in or around K-Town, and downtown LA, but If you’re looking to move further out, I can send you some other ones. Houses, apartments, whatever you’re looking for, just let me know which ones interest you, and we can set up a private tour.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Davtyan.”

She waved off the formal address. “Oh, please, call me Ania.”

“Ania then. I’ll make sure to call in the next few days.”

“I look forward to hearing from you, Alkim. Please, feel free to send me any questions you might have about the listings, the neighborhoods, prices. And don’t worry, if they’re all out of your price range,” she ran two fingers down her pearl necklace and smiled slyly, “I’m sure we can work something out…”

Ania turned away from him and sauntered off in her fancy heels, presumably to deliver more eviction notices. She was clearly putting a lot of extra sway into her hips, much more she had on the approach, and proved that she did, in fact, have an ass to match. On a less callipygian woman, that dress would have smoothed over her legs and rear, but Ania’s globular cheeks were so impressive that they **** the poor fabric to contour over and between them, granting Alkim a spectacular view of those glutes jiggling enticingly with her every step. She had the kind of ass that Victorian women needed crinoline underwire just to mimic, and surprisingly long legs to complete the set.

Alkim was so entranced by the sight that the gravity of their conversation didn’t fully sink in until she got into her oversized Mercedes SUV, and broke the spell. He looked down the street, and found that Ania’s worker had already placed down three more signs in the time they’d spent chatting.

Fuck! Just when we’re getting Vicky back, the whole house gets sold out from under us?

He had no idea how he was going to break this to the girls.

I’ve got good news and bad news. The bad news is that the landlady’s selling our house, and we’ll be evicted in ninety days. But the good news is that she wants to fuck me, so, that’s cool, right?

Not seeing anything to do about it now, Alkim sighed, grabbed his groceries, grabbed the three-month eviction notice, and went inside.

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