Demimondaine: aka The Ugly Truth About Catgirls

By Zoe Miller

Let's Go On A Riotous And Risky Adventure!! o/ Based off the hit light novel "I Can't Believe My Roomate-Slash-Mistress-Slash-Witch Just Invited Herself Along To The Goodbye Show Of My Favorite Succubus-Led Punk Band & I'm So Fuckin Pissed I Didn't Even Realize My Idol Is Seducing Me In The Ladies Room," Demimondaine is the story of Nico, a cat girl familiar just trying to etch out a living in this cruddy city whose simple dream of attending the underground show of her favorite band is ruined when her mistress/roommate, Marigold, decides she simply MUST tag along.

A new edition with cover art by hit twitter sensation, Pooch!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Zoe Miller
• Release date: Aug 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463413654

Zoe Miller

Zoe Miller is a hyperactive thing with too much anxiety. She writes a lot of stories; some of them are good. She thinks wizards are pretty cool. She wishes she could own a dog (she also likes cats, but they don't like her!) She's pretty good at writing down words, but terrified of self-promotion.

Book preview

Demimondaine is copyright Zoe Miller, all rights reserved.

For more of Zoe’s work, please visit:

http://www.bespokesmut.com

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Cover art by pooch! <3

A dread shadow slithered around the doorjamb. Bloodshot eyes zeroed in on fresh prey. Mere paces away, at the kitchen stove, stood a humanoid creature—a Demimondaine, in the aspect of cat, a sumptuous feast of primal aether in sentient form. Blissfully unaware of its peril, it concentrated on its cooking, flicking its tufted ears, swaying its rump, and swishing its lithe tail in the air in time with the crashing, atonal music that masked the shadow’s staggering, hungry advance along the floor…

Fortunately, the shadow only got as far as the kitchen island before a wave of nausea halted is clawing advance. Briefly humbled, Marigold, witch and enchantrix extraordinaire, largely harmless (especially after a bender), and roused by nothing more devious than the aroma of simmering pasta. Nicoooooo… isn’t it ready yet…?

Nico groaned, flicking the volume down on the stereo. When she signed up to be Marigold’s familiar, nobody told her that her primary duty would be cooking boxed macaroni for a boozy witch. How are you still hungover? It’s five in the afternoon.

I told you. Dragging herself towards the stove with all the speed, grace, and painfully unkempt hair of a Japanese ghost out for drowsy vengeance, Marigold hugged her arms around Nico’s ankles. When those pagans say paint the town red, what they really mean by that is paint your insides red. And what I mean by that is, it was strawberry daiquiris until the sun rose behind the headstones…

"Well at least somebody had a fun night."

Ah! Marigold was suddenly upright. She stood more than a full head over Nico, and that’s when she wasn’t looming on tip-toes behind her, hands clasped behind her back, grinning like the mad woman she absolutely was. Is someone envious of my night with a group of luscious, intelligent, mud-covered ladies?

Nico rattled her wooden spoon around in the pot to shake up the pasta. I was until the mud-covered part…

Nico, dear. Taking her familiar by the shoulders, Marigold bodily turned her. You really must get a social life of your own.

"Well nobody invited me."

Offended, Marigold braced a hand over her heart. I most certainly did! You dithered for three days before finally admitting you didn’t want to come.

I— Nico swallowed, hard. "I said I couldn’t come. I had work; someone has to keep the lights on in this place."

Some days she wished she’d stayed a cat.

Precious Nico, you know what they say… Marigold leaned forward, eyes glinting with an almost criminal intent. Nico hastily backed away—but the granite countertop cut off her escape. "All work and