#That style is so much faster that a full body colored and celled piece is the same price as a lined bust in my other atyle

[bitchfitch]

The devastation of realizing I need to remake my comms sheet again. Pain and terror and tragedy of tragedy.

[rightsockjin]

Emerald: Taehyung

Summary: Lingerie By Vante was a highly luxurious brand with the signature color of Emerald. That’s what brought you to the main sight to be fitted for your first ever set! But when the store closed early, you were forced to turn around, that is...until Mr. Vante himself offered to fit you in. 

Rating:M

Genre:SMUT!

Warnings: Sex in a public place but its empty so... Lingerie fitting. dry humping. masturbation. fingering. Sexy Taehyung... 

Word count: 4,027

Author’s note: This one is just smut y’all. Just pure smut.

Rows and rows of perfectly folded fabric decorated every surface. Soft pastels and bold electrics popped out every couple of spaces, but the emerald green was the overpowering flavor of the meal. It was draped all over the place. Covered in rhinestones and lace and satin. The lights were dim and seemed to flicker, almost like the light of a candle. When it was full, you assumed it must have been something that was overlooked, but being in here when it was empty made you look a little more closely.

        Lingerie by Vante had a reputation for having fantastic lingerie and the quality really couldn’t be argued, but it seemed like a shame that no one noticed the attention to detail that was put into the stores. In particular, the main store and the one that Mr. Vante himself frequented.

        He was rarely ever seen on the retail floor, barely ever seen at all, so standing there, watching him sort through an assortment of the signature emerald green sets in an emerald green suit was maybe too much culture shock for you to handle.

        “I don’t want to scare you off with something too crazy or too out there, so I think I can narrow it down to a good couple of these ones.”

        His voice was like the silk of the set he was holding. Deep and smooth and it felt like being touched for the very first time. You could feel your body buzzing with anticipation. When you had arrived earlier to get your first ever set of lingerie, you had done so alone and had thought that you would have to pick alone, possibly with the help of a female employee, but here you were being helped by the designer himself.

        “I trust that you know what you’re doing,” you said, though you didn’t remember opening your mouth to speak, but that definitely sounded like your voice.

        “So you don’t mind if they’re a little revealing?” He asked, still facing away from you.

        “Well, it’s underwear… so I guess not.”

        “Fantastic,” he said, grabbing something you couldn’t see. He turned over his shoulder, a bright rectangular smile and squinty eyes. In his arms there were three sets of expensive looking lingerie. All of which were very much out of your price range.

        “Let’s head to the dressing rooms! I think that these would fit nicely on your figure and the color is going to make you shine like the gem you are.”

        “Mr. Vante-”

        “Taehyung,” he interjected with a slight nod as he gestured in the direction of dressing rooms. You smiled and followed him, the nerves in you buzzing even faster than before.

        “Mr. Taehyung-”

        “Just Taehyung is fine, Miss Y/N.”

        “Oh uh… okay,” you agreed. “I don’t really know if I can afford such luxurious pieces.”

        “Just try them on,” Mr. Vante said as you rounded the corner to the slightly brighter dressing rooms, “if we like a style we can find you something more in your price range but the first set of Vante lingerie you try on must be in the signature color. No exceptions.”

        “But then you can’t sell those,” you pointed out as he pulled out a set of keys and opened the biggest dressing stall, the one usually reserved for the handicapped, and set down the three sets on the velvet covered bench. The mirror was decorated by chiffon drapes and dangly, sparkly, diamond things that you had seen on chandeliers.

        “Try them on in the order they’re set,” he suggested, sitting in the chair that was right outside.

        “Okay,” you answered. The soft jazz music that was playing in the background made you feel a little calmer. It let you forget for a minute that you were alone in the shop after hours. The door shut lightly behind you. You sat on the cushy bench. The scent of blackcurrant and bergamot wafted up to your nose. The scent went straight to your head and your blood. It was a heady scent. Addicting. No wonder they sold so many sets.

        Carefully you undressed, feeling a little awkward as you unhooked your bra. You hadn’t ever been naked in a place that wasn’t a house or a hotel and never with someone you hadn’t known well.

        You let the bra fall to the floor then slipped out of your already slightly soiled underwear. You felt guilty. Were you really going to put on, fresh, new, lingerie sets in the state you were in? Sure, it was rumored that Mr. Vante was into guys, but who could blame you? Anyone who had laid any eyes on him was at risk of- at the very least- falling into lust with him and you were no exception.

        Reluctantly, you slipped into an emerald green slip with black lace around the cleavage and the bottom edge. It was conservative, safe even. If you looked really closely, you could see the very tops of your nipples through the lace but it was almost not even there. You barely even considered this lingerie. It was more of a night gown. You could see your pert nipples through the silky fabric. You slipped on the matching set of black, lace underwear. You grimaced when you felt your growing arousal touch the expensive fabric.

        “Ready?” Mr. Vante asked, shaking you from your own thoughts.

        “For what?”

        “Well, in order to make sure I got the right pieces, I need to see them on you, sweetheart.”

        Your heart skipped a beat but you rationalized it in your head. If the rumors were true, then you had nothing to worry about, and there had never been any dating rumors when it came to Mr. Vante so you felt fairly secure in your assumption.

        “Oh, yeah. Right, of course! Yes… I’ll come right out.” You slipped the door open, taking a deep breath to keep the jitters at bay. When you stepped out, Mr. Vante didn’t even react. His face was calm and collected. His fingers held his chin up, his leg was crossed.

        “Turn,” he said, the emotion void from it entirely.

        You did as he said until you were facing him once again. His eyes roamed up and down your silk clad body. Your flesh burned where his eyes trailed but you did your best to fight it.

        “Change,” he said. Without another word, he shooed you with a wave of his hand. You blinked at him but did as he said, feeling slightly inadequate.

        You took off the first set and tossed it with your clothes in a semi neat folded pile. You picked up the limp and loose lace one piece. It was completely see through save for a single strip of cotton fabric where the crotch went.

        You slipped it on carefully, not wanting to accidently rip the delicate material. It fit like a glove and you marveled at Mr. Vante’s innate ability to tell your measurements without a single measuring tape. He was clearly experienced.

        “Are you in the next set sweetheart,” he called, his voice like the velvet all over the store. You could almost imagine the way that that silky voice would sound like calling out your name. Moaning between your legs.

        “Y-yeah.” Maybe thinking those kinds of thoughts weren’t the best idea.

        You opened the door again, this time, a little bit more self-conscious of the fact that he could see much more of you than you were accustomed to letting people see but you pushed it aside. He was most likely gay. There was no harm.

        He hummed this time, his eyes raking over your figure. This had been what you had had in mind when you thought of lingerie. Something sexy but not totally out of your comfort zone.

        “Turn,” he instructed again. You did so without complaint. You could feel his eyes all over your back, your shoulders that were exposed, your butt and the way it hung slightly out from under the lace.

        When you were back facing him, you expected to see him looking up at you like he had before, but instead, his eyes were firmly set on the deep V of the set. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, as his eyes moved from one boob to the other. Did they not look good in the lace?

        Then, like he had realized something, his eyes shot up to yours, his expression still blank, “Change.”

        “Does it not look good-”

        “Change,” he said again, not giving anything away.

        “Oh…okay.”

        Your heart sank. This had been a mistake. It was clear that you were disgracing his designs with your body. And you had really thought that you looked good in that last one. With a heavy heart, you pulled off the one piece and threw it to a corner, not caring where it went.

        Your eyes widened. The bra was a push up, giving you a bit more cover than the last two had, though if you looked closely, you could still kind of see through the light fabric. The panties were a mixture of lace and another, much more stretchy fabric to give it structure. What you didn’t expect was the little circle of lace that had two long satin ribbons and little clips at the end. Since you weren’t sure where it went or what it was, you simply held it in your fist just as Mr. Vante called to you again.

        “Ready yet?”

        “Mr. Vante-”

        “Taehyung, sweetheart.”

        “Taehyung,” you corrected awkwardly, “I don’t know how to put this on.” You held it up above your head, noticing a thin strand of pearls that ran vertically from the front to the back.

        “Come out sweetheart and I’ll help you.”

        You did so without question. The underwear dug between your butt cheeks, as un-sexy as that sounded, as you stepped out once again. The room felt warmer suddenly. Like someone had turned on the heater and it was pressing on your ever cell.

        You glanced over at the chair where Mr. Vante was sitting and were shocked, not that his face was still as flat as it had been the entire time, but that his green pants were tented at the crotch. He was leaning back now. His arms crossed over his stomach.

        Had you been wrong? Were all the rumors wrong? The whispers of why he had never been caught with a woman before? Maybe he was just really good at hiding his women.

        “What’s confusing you, sweetness?” He raked over your figure again. When he saw the lace in your hands, his eyes widened with recognition.

        “Oh, Sweetheart, this goes on before the underwear. Up to your waist.” You stared at the pearl line right down the center and balked.

        “So this thing-”

        “Goes right in your pretty little honey pot,” he said, standing suddenly and walking closer to you, “it’s probably as sweet tasting as it smells.”

        He took the fabric in your hands out of it. He held it by the beads that you just then noticed weren’t entirely round, but bumpy and slightly yellowed. You may not have a lot of money, but you knew that those pearls weren’t fake.

        “Would you like me to help you, Sweetness?”

        He breathed down your neck. You felt all the hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. Your head was fuzzy. You must be dreaming. Why would someone so successful and good looking want anything to do with you?

        “He-help?”

        “I thought you would never ask,” he whispered in your ear. The music took a turn for the sexy. It slowed much more. A sultry voice. Filtered through the invisible speakers. You got a whiff of the same scent that had come out of the cushion in the dressing room with what you couldn’t possibly mistake as some sort of musk. It was coming from Mr. Vante.

        “Spread your legs for me, Sweetheart.”

        It was like you weren’t even controlling your body. You were on strings and his voice was the puppet master. You did as he said. No hesitation. No remorse. All obedience. It was the power he exuded.

        Without pausing, Mr. Vante hooked two fingers on either side of your hips and pushed the underwear off your frame. You should be embarrassed, being so bare to a complete stranger, your core dripping wet, but you felt comfortable. Like this was what you were meant to be doing this whole time.

        “Step out of them,” he said and you complied. You looked over at his face, a bit nervous that he would be upset that you had ruined a pair of his carefully crafted panties but the slightest smile pulled at his rose tinted lips when he saw the arousal on the fabric.

        “I’m going to help you put this on, ok?”

        You nodded your head as he kneeled down in front of you. His face was level with your center. His eyes fixated on it, like it was the most beautiful silk fabric he had ever laid eyes on. Without warning, Mr. Vante leaned in and at the very beginning of your slits set his lips atop it. You could feel that his lips were slightly open. The warmth evident against your skin. You braced yourself to feel his tongue but were disappointed when he pulled away, a thin strand of your arousal clinging at his bottom lip. He let his tongue slip out and collect the clear wetness and hummed, satisfied.

        “I was right. Just as sweet.”

        Without waiting for a response, he held out the lace fabric, like a parent helping to dress a toddler and looked at you expectantly. You placed one foot on either side of the pearl strand then held onto his shoulders as he shimmied it up your smooth skin. When it was up to your waist, he let go and reached between your legs where the pearls rested atop your slit. With ease and gentleness, he spread your slit and let the stones settle between . They were hard and cold against your center. You shifted slightly, making the pearls shift between your folds and you winced. The contact on your clit was unexpected but welcome.

        “How does that feel Sweetheart?”

        You looked down at Mr. Vante, his pupils blown wide as he watched you adjust to the undergarments. He looked overjoyed.

        “It um…It feels good Mr-uh Taehyung.”

        “I was hoping you would like it. Let’s finish the set then,” he pulled the underwear up making you step into them and pulled them up your legs. It held the pearls in place as you moved, again stimulating your sensitive clit. You jumped slightly as he snapped the elastic against your hip and settled the two ribbons in front of them.

        “Usually,” he kissed one of your thighs, “we’d connect these to some stockings,” he kissed the other thighs, “but since we’re just trying it on just for style, we can keep it like this for now.”

        He pressed another open mouthed kiss to your center, teasing you. A twinkle in his eyes gave it away as he pressed multiple kisses to your exposed skin still kneeling before you.

        “Get down here, Sweetheart,” he said, pulling you down so you were sitting on his bent legs. You felt his, clothed, member pressed against your slits. It was rock hard, like he had been turned on for a while with no solution.

        The pearls rubbed against your clit harder then, pushed against it. The texture was delicious. It was different enough to keep it interesting but not too different that it would stop the pleasure.

        “What are you doing Taehyung?” You asked. His hands rested on your hips. There was an inch of space between your face and his. The slight smile from before was still on his lips.

        “Well, I thought you might like a full preview of what this set can do when used as it’s meant to be used.”

        He pulled your hips down and thrust his hips up to meet them. Another shot of gratification traveled up to your stomach. Your skin started to perpetrate slightly. You were burning up. The motion at your core continued to stimulate you. You bit your lips, hoping that he couldn’t hear the little whimpers that were coming from your throat.

        “See,” he grunted slightly as he thrust up towards your entrance again, “the pearls are hand-picked- umgh- and are placed so that they- ugh- hit the woman’s clitoris,” he moaned softly, his eyes rolling back in his head, “and makes it easier for inexperienced men to please their partners.”

        You were struck silly as he spread up his thrusts, his fingers were digging into your hips, probably bruising your skin but it was worth it. You only wished he would fill you up somehow. Would it be weird to ask? This was all new territory for you.  

        “But for someone like me,” he pushed your hips around his hard bulge, “it’s just an added bonus.”

        He let his hands fall to your exposed ass. He gave it a squeeze with both hands before he let them trail lower. He used the hand still on your butt to push you closer to his body, his lips were so close to yours that it felt like he was pulling you to them.

        You were so distracted by the way that his lips called to you that you hadn’t felt when he had pushed your underwear aside. It was when two of his long fingers pushed past the wet muscles between your legs.

        Like the expert he seemed to be, he found the spot within your walls in record time. He pushed against it, never stopping his hips against yours. A wonton squelch echoed in your ears as he continued to push against the perfect spot within you. A blush rose to your cheeks, not used to being so wet or so turned on.

        “It looks like the set is working well,” he said with a chuckle. He gave one particularly good thrust that had the beads between your lower lips pulsating. You were already close. You were already at the precipice of pleasure. He was magical. Talented. In more areas than one.

        “Wonderfully,” you gasped out. It was getting hard having to hold yourself up. Your knees were starting to hurt from being bent but you weren’t willing to give up what was building to be an unimaginable orgasm.

        Taehyung’s lips locked onto your jaw, biting at the skin and kissing so softly it was almost nonexistent. Your eyes feel shut as your orgasm hit you hard over the head. Your mouth hung open and Mr. Vante took the opportunity to suck at the bottom one, running his tongue over your teeth.

        “Ah- Tae-Taehyung I…”

        “That’s it, Sweetness. Say my name.”

        You felt him push harder against the spot inside of you. Your body convulsed in his grasp. You only saw hot white and nothing more. Overstimulation set in suddenly and you tried to push him off of you but he held you in place, thrusting his hips and kissing your bruised lips.

        “One more, Sweetheart. Give me one more and then I’ll let you go.”

        You nodded, his fingers sped up. He nibbled on your lip and took the cheek in his hand and used it to push you onto him harder. Your orgasm built up much quicker than the one before and it hit you harder as well.

        You couldn’t help but moan loudly as he pushed you over the edge again. Your body convulsed in his hold. He slowed his fingers inside of you but only pulled them out when your walls stopped squeezing him in.

        Slowly and carefully, he pushed you off his lap and helped you lay on the carpeted floor. You held yourself up on your elbows, your knees up in the air and your legs still spread wide. When Taehyung was sure you were settled, he unzipped his emerald pants and pulled out his long, pulsating member. Your eyes went wide with shock.

        He started to pump himself into his hands. His eyes raked over your whole body hungrily. He looked like a tiger ready to strike and you were a juicy steak just for him. He fixed his gaze on your core which was so wet you were dripping.

        “Keep those legs spread, Sweetness.” He bucked into his enormous hand. Precum was running down his shaft. He pulled the two fingers that were in your center up to his nose. He took a big breath then sucked them into his mouth. He savored your flavor. His eyes rolling into his head as he popped them out of his mouth.

        “That’s it,” he groaned, reaching over to your sensitive slits and scooped more of your essence onto his long digits.

        “You’re so good, Sweetness. Where have you been hiding from me?”

        “Taehyung,” you groaned as he scooped more of your juices onto his fingers after sucking off the rest. A vein on the underside of his dick rose dangerously. You could basically see it pulsing as he neared his own end.

        “Yes, Sweetheart?”

        But you had nothing to say. You were so entranced by the way his hand moved up and down his shaft that your mind went blank. You could almost feel it inside you. The burn it was sure to give you and the speed he could surly fuck into your needy-

        “I’m so close,” he said through gritted teeth, “Show me your breasts baby.”

        Without hesitating, you unclipped the bra and tossed it aside so that your nipples were out in the open. Taehyung’s head fell heavily between his shoulders. He gave himself two more languid pumps then he hesitated and white hot cum poured out of him like a river.

        It ran over his hand and onto his emerald green suit. What a shame.

        When he came down from his high, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out an emerald pocket hanky that he used to wipe up the ejaculation. Without a second thought, he threw it into the garbage.

        “How do you feel, Sweetness? You like the model I picked out for you?”

        Taehyung helped you sit up, the pearls shifted again between your legs and you gasped, still too sensitive.

        “Yeah Mr. Vante… Taehyung.” He helped you to your feet, his eyes on your chest. He reached for a nipple and flicked it lightly. He leaned down, his eyes trailed on yours as he licked and sucked it into his lips.

        “Taehyung,” you groaned, letting your hand wrap into his hair. He pulled away with a loud pop before he straightened up to his full height. He smiled at you the way he had earlier when he was picking out your sets.

        “What do you say we move this party to my place, Sweetheart? Then I can really show you what my lingerie can do.”

        “That wasn’t it?” You asked completely floored as his eyes twinkled. He chuckled cutely, grabbing one of your hands and placing it on his cheek so he could kiss your palm.

        “That was just the beginning,” he assured. He let go of you and picked up the bra that you had discarded but didn’t make you put it on again.

        “Go put on the slip over this and we can head out, Sweetheart. That is, if you want to come along.”

        “Are you serious? I always heard that you were gay-” you snapped a hand over your lips, scared you had offended him but Taehyung was laughing, no sign of offence in sight.

        “So you’ve heard the rumors too haven’t you?”

        “I’m so sorry.”

        “Don’t worry about it,” he said, his eyes darkening, “I’ll prove to you I’m not, Sweetheart.”          He pulled you into his chest. Your boobs pressed against the material of his vest. Your core was ready to go once more and your brain was buzzing as you looked up at him, trapped in his strong arms.

       He kissed a spot on your cheek as you took the matching bra back. On the tag was his name and in big, bright letters, the line name Dynamite stared up at you.

[azuremist]

Title: Not Today

Fandom: Professor Layton

Characters: Henry, Randall, Angela, Hershel, briefly mentioned noncanon therapist

Pairing: (Presumably one-sided) RanHen

Words: 2,687

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, self-hatred, character death, violence on inanimate objects, divorce mention. (Ask to add more!)

Summary: Henry reflects how he falls for his best friend, Randall Ascot, along with Randall’s death, and how it affects his life today. Takes place before Miracle Mask.

Taglist: @lukeowotriton 

Reblogs > Likes!

You know, everyone expects me to be moving on soon. In all honesty, I doubt that. But, at the very least, if I’m moving on someday, that day isn’t today, that’s for sure.

I don’t remember when I first met him. I was young, in my defense, but how weird is that to think about? How can the memory of the moment that changed my life forever be fuzzy around the edges, much less blurred out of sight?

I do remember what lead up to it. Mother divorced Father, despite my father being the breadwinner. Left devoid of cash, my mother decided to take up the role of a servant, and she even had me working as a young, young child, in order to get extra money. I remember holding onto her dress on my way to the Ascot household for the first time, and I remember her saying that I would serve their son in particular. But… It stops once the door is opened.

I’m positive I just saw him for what he was. A kid who wore his bedhead like it was a trendy style, with freckles and a horrible sense of fashion. And he was the person who I would be serving for; so I disregarded him as a person, and registered him as a boss.

I’d heard my mother complain about serving Randall’s parents; how demanding they were and such. I couldn’t deny that she looked exhausted all of the time. So, I expected the same experience with this redheaded boy… But I guess I forgot one crucial thing. He was just that; a boy.

I constantly asked him if he needed something, and the most he ever asked of me was a glass of water. Otherwise, he would just smile at me. The requests he usually gave me were along the lines of, “Hehe, I ‘command’ you to play robots with me!” Randall didn’t really want much, it seemed, except for a friend.

That was alright with me. My father never called, and mother tended to be busy, other than the occasional scolding for me. So, from young boys, Randall and I grew close. Going on what he claimed was ‘adventures’, when, in reality, we were just going across the street to get some pop. In his own way, though… He did make everything into an adventure. Singing a tune from some action movie, holding my hand as he ran ahead… It made life with him have color. Every time he spoke, I felt him wiping away the monochrome hue from my eyes, and I could see the world as colorful as it was.

Mother only had that small house to keep me separate from work as a baby. So, with no need for that any longer, the Ascot residence became my new home. Every night was like a sleepover; and when I got nightmares, I passed up my mother’s sleeping area in favor for Randall’s room, where he let me climb into his bed and snuggle up close. He was warm. And I fell asleep by focusing on trying to make our breathing match.

Those early times were scary sometimes. I was a child who had a job, who had to work to provide for my mother and myself. I was always scared of messing up, especially because of my mother’s strictness… But when I was with Randall, I felt safe. I was able to feel like a child again. The world was colorful.

And that’s how it was for a long, long time. Just the two of us, unable to be torn apart. When I talked to him, or… Just listened; just listened to him talk about fossils and treasure with that wonderful glimmer in his eye… I felt like I was in a bubble of white light, protecting us from the scary outside world and the looming threat of growing up.

Then, around… Oh… Middle school, maybe, Randall brought home another friend. Hershel Layton.

I didn’t dislike Hershel, don’t mistake me here. He was kindhearted and quiet, and helped keep Randall in line when I couldn’t. But, suddenly, it wasn’t just Randall and I anymore. There was this intruder trying to break into our bubble. Even looking back on it now, I wouldn’t say I was jealous… I was just panicked about the change. Things were changing again, and at the time I wanted them to change the least.

Something important you have to know is that, back when I was a child… Well, ‘the gays’ were talked about sparingly, especially when it came to rich people like the Ascots. But I sometimes overhead Randall’s father talking about his ‘sick brother’. I assumed this mystery brother had a cancer of some kind; which would explain his live-in male roommate. Some sort of doctor, maybe…?

But, over time, I pieced together what was really happening. Randall’s uncle was sick in the head. Mentally ill. He was in love with his roommate… His male roommate. Gross, right?

But when I heard about this, my stomach twisted. I felt like throwing up. I didn’t know that this ‘sickness’ was possible; that it was physically possible to like another boy. But now that I knew it was possible, I couldn’t help but wonder…

Was I sick, too?

Was this sickness behind the feeling of safety I felt around Randall? Was this why, when Randall smiled, it felt like something warm spilt in my heart, and why when he laughed (full-on snort-laughed), I felt like I would give a kidney to hear it again? Was this why I felt my face go hot when he touched my skin? Was this not a strong feeling of friendship and platonic companionship, like I had thought?

I had to know more. Was this sickness going to cause me harm? Would it affect anything else as I grew up? My vision, my hearing? What was happening to me?

What was wrong with me?

I was wondering all of this when Hershel came along. Change was the last thing I needed at that time… But there was nothing I could do about it. I tried to put a lid on my feelings, and shove them into a dark corner of my heart.

Even if I was sick, wouldn’t it be selfish to ever want to date Randall when being his friend was basically the best thing that ever happened to me?

Then high school hit, and on came puberty. And suddenly, girls were all Randall could talk about.

He talked about all sorts of girls. He talked about the blonde girl who he liked, and the girl with pretty eyes who flirted with him. More and more, especially loud when other people were around. I expected these feelings to come to me, too, sometime soon. Maybe this sickness of mine could be grown out of?

No. It only got worse with age.

While Randall drooled over girls, all I could notice were boys. How they talked, how they moved… I was going absolutely, positively boy-crazy. And that was a problem when there was a very kindhearted, and very, very handsome boy within the range of my home, at literally all times.

I wish I could say I just began to notice how nice he was, because that would be less embarrassing, but it was more than that. It was how his muscles moved under his shirt, and how he smelled like pine trees and the outdoors. But not in a gross way… In a nice way. It was how his skin was dusted with sweet freckles and how he showed his gums when he smiled. I saw all of it, and I couldn’t try to deny to myself anymore that I was head-over-heels, stupidly, helplessly in love with my best friend, Randall Ascot.

Do you know what it’s like to live with the person you love? It’s like living with fire. You want to get close… You’re so memorized by its every flicker and glow. But it’s dangerous… Because if you touch it. Well. You burn. But you can’t help but wonder how that beautiful fire; that beautiful, dangerous fire; feels on your skin.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to burn. I couldn’t tell him I was sick. Even if he was sick too… Where would that lead us? We would still be mentally ill. And would that mean I was dragging Randall down with me? And if I told him I was sick, and he was normal, then I would be absolutely ruined. Not only would I lose my best friend, but he would tell everyone. And I would be on the streets faster than you can say ‘rejection’. That’s what happened to Randall’s uncle, anyway…

I lived in constant fear. I hated myself. I hated myself so much, and I wanted to push it onto someone else. Anyone else. I was looking for someone to hate.

And then, Angela began to date Randall.

And it was like every cell in my body locked onto her, and said, “Yes. That one.”

It’s… Silly, looking back on it. Unlike Hershel, I was jealous of Angela. So jealous that I hated everything about her. I took out everything; my self-hatred, my confusion, my unrequited love; onto her. Well… That would imply that I was… Bullying her. I wasn’t. I internalized it all, just like before. But at least all of these feelings weren’t for myself.

The worst thing I would do is that I would interrupt whenever she and Randall got ‘alone time’. Because thinking about those two kissing, or doing anything beyond that, made me… Not angry… But sad. It was kind of pathetic… But I was still holding onto that hope, that silly little hope, that I might be Randall’s first kiss.

Thinking about Randall and I being together like that… Kissing… It made me feel like I was surrounded in warm, fluffy clouds.

Anyways, I didn’t do anything to Angela. I just wallowed in my own pathetic bitterness and my worries and my love, and it all molded together into a horrible, horrible goopy mess, lying in my stomach for most of my teenage years.

Yes, I eventually did learn to like Angela, once I figured out I was being incredibly silly about this whole thing. I was only hurting myself more by putting energy into hating someone who didn’t even do anything wrong. We bonded a lot over not only Randall, but also our common interests in books. And, with time, Hershel and Angela became a part of our bubble, and it didn’t feel as crowded anymore. I began to feel like, maybe… Maybe… Things were going to be okay.

I had it all planned. Randall would never have to know how I felt, and he would marry Angela, completely and utterly clueless. I would be his best man, and I would hand him off to Angela. Not because I loved him any less, but because I loved him so, so much. At least, this way, I would get to see him smile and laugh in the arms of someone who loved him like I did, rather than him finding out how I felt, and leaving me for good.

Then he died.

When we found out, Angela began to cry on the spot. But I went numb. My eyes wide, my mouth agape, and I felt absolutely, positively nothing.

It was on the way home that it hit me.

The love of my life, Randall Ascot, had fallen into a pit and died a painful, horrible death. We didn’t even know where his body was. It was likely covered in blood, lying limp, a shell of the wonderful boy it once was. I would never see his eyes again. I would never see him smile again, or laugh again. Randall… My sweet Randall… Was dead in a pit.

And now, I would go my entire life without kissing him, or telling him how much I loved him.

I went home alone that day. Angela and Hershel went somewhere, I can’t remember where. But once I was alone… In the house that he and I grew up in together…

I had, what Angela so lovingly called, a ‘Hen-rage attack’.

All of the feelings I had been trying to repress; sadness, stress, frustration, hatred, and the stinging loss of love; came up all at once in a violent outburst, and I absolutely wrecked the house that wasn’t even mine to begin with.

Screaming, crying, I broke furniture, punched walls, and threw china onto the ground. I went completely mad, taking out my fury on anything that dared be in my vision. My vision, by the way, was blurred, but everything looked red and everything felt hot. With every object I broke in that house, I only wanted to break more, and more, and more. And I screamed incoherent sentences, proclaiming how much I hated this, and how the love of my life was gone. Forever.

When I was done, I was covered in dust. My knuckles were bleeding profusely, and I tasted metal in my mouth, as well. And I was in the middle of all of this carnage, sobs violently going through my body. I didn’t feel any better. I thought this would help. But it didn’t.

Because Randall Ascot was still dead.

That feeling of helplessness… That is my motivation now.

I faked my marriage to Angela, so I wouldn’t have to believe that Randall Ascot was dead. I spent thousands of dollars of exploration missions so I wouldn’t have to believe that Randall Ascot was dead. I created and was the mayor of a whole city so I wouldn’t have to believe that Randall Ascot was dead. I worked hard every day, so I wouldn’t ever have to succumb to that horrible, horrible feeling ever again.

Is this denial? Was this just pushing off the inevitable time when I would have to accept Randall’s passing? Probably. Well, that’s what my therapist says, anyways.

Yes, Angela and I both went to therapy. Sometimes together, usually separately… And, every meeting, she would suggest ways to ‘move on’.

“Your whole life revolves around you living in your past,” she would say. “You need to live in the now.”

She suggested that I visit Randall’s grave every day, and talk to it like he was there. Then, after a month, I would tell him goodbye. I did that… But when the day came to say goodbye, I couldn’t bring myself to say it. That word… That simple ‘farewell’… It was stuck on my tongue, and choked my throat. I ended up leaving the gravestone without saying a word.

Then, she tried a different approach; she told Angela to take away the robot that Randall gave to me as a child, without telling me. Real great idea, that one. I went into a full-on rage again, and teared up the house trying to find the robot; my precious comfort item. Angela returned to a house that looked absolutely destroyed on the inside, and me in the middle of it, sobbing, and trying to retrace my steps of the past month on a piece of paper. Safe to say, that didn’t work.

Then, she suggested writing a letter to say goodbye to Randall. I like writing, so… I tried it.

So I sat at my desk, staring at a blank piece of paper. I licked my lips and began, ‘Dearest Randall.’

‘It’s just that…’ I erased that.     

‘Do you remember…’ No good, either.

‘I think that…’ No, no, no.

None of it was good enough. None of it was enough to say how much I felt for him. Despite the wonderful, wide variety of words, there was simply no way to tell him exactly how I felt, in any language.

So, instead, I wrote this:

‘Dearest Randall,

You know, everyone expects me to be moving on soon. In all honesty, I doubt that. But, at the very least, if I’m moving on someday, that day isn’t today, that’s for sure.

Love until the last star dies,

Henry Ledore.’

[there-willbeblood]

Chapter 7: Shades of Blue

NATALIA'S POV

I Google searched again and again.

Never in my life had I seen such a  gorgeous shade of blue but I just had to find it. I barely knew his name but as soon as I got home from Plasma last night, my mind wouldn't shut down. I felt like some drug crazed, groupie.

When Wanda pulled me out of the office at Plasma, she was furious and still flailing her rather large taser around for everyone to see that she was tough shit. I was still slightly buzzed from the blood loss mixed with alcohol but nothing compared to the high I got from seeing those eyes for the first time. What the hell was wrong with me?

I looked at him once and already, I was itching to run my hands through his golden hair or run my finger along his chiseled chest that was on full display for me last night. I wasn't an overly sexual person but I was a woman who just saw her first piece of true eye candy and Jesus have mercy, he was fine as hell.

Wanda was less than amused and wouldn't answer my questions as to who my new Mystery Crush was. She was still pissed from having to bring out the big guns so didn't really notice my complete glazed over look as we sat in the back of the cab. She just kept talking and I just kept fantasizing.

It was completely embarrassing but I couldn't help it.

I was so wrapped up in Mystery Crush that I didn't even really feel the throbbing from the back of my leg that was so neatly bandaged, I thought someone had called a doctor. It was entirely ridiculous that I could have this physical attraction to some guy I barely saw for two seconds and then was rushed out of the door but I didn't feel like it had to be explained. If only I could see him one more time, I would be good for the rest of my life.

Does that even make sense?

Last night, I went to bed with dreams of blue going through my head.

Sky. Cobalt. Electric. Sapphire. Navy. Sea. Royal. Indigo. Baby. Midnight. Ice. Wikipedia said that there were an estimated 9,142,857 different shades of blue. I had probably gone through half of them by eight the next morning.

His name was Steve. Such an old-fashioned, strong name but it matched him perfectly. He just stood regally and it only took one second for me to fall for his looks. I bet that's how it always was.

I looked at the clock that now read ten a.m. I hadn't slept since five and I was starting to feel the effects but I wasn't going to rest until I found the right color of his eyes. They were still pulling me in every time I closed mine and thought about the three seconds I saw him standing near the door.

Last night, Steve was high, that was for sure but he still had the sexiest face I had ever seen. It wasn't just that he had a nice face, it was more than that. There was a fire behind him that I could sense and it turned me on immensely although that wasn't anything close to the way he looked at me. Even though he was slightly inebriated, something about him was calling me. It was like I was drawn to him through his blood and that was fucking weird. I was even scaring myself.

"Pull yourself together, Nat." I rubbed my eyes to try and break Steve's spell on me.

I was a fucking junkie with my coffee next to me on the desk and my laptop powered up.

Since I couldn't sleep, I spent my time on the internet trying to find out who Mystery Crush was like a stalker but I wasn't ashamed.

Through a very circuitous route, I found that James "Bucky" Rogers was the owner of Plasma, thus I figured that Steve's last name was the same.

"Come on." I tapped my foot impatiently as Google took its sweet time loading the page after I typed in 'Steve Rogers'. I didn't know anything else so I hoped that was enough to get me some sort of information.

My cell phone brought me out of my lusting and I nearly jumped five feet in the air. I looked around like a cartoon character, with my head shifting from side to side as I searched furiously for my phone that was buried under my un-slept in sheets. I found it near my pillow and picked up just as the ringing stopped. I always left my phone on the charger and never took it anywhere with me. I didn't even know why Nick bought me the thing.

"Hello?" I answer quickly.

"Geez Nat, you sound like you ran a marathon. What's going on?" Wanda asked.

"Nothing." I lied and took several breaths to calm myself, "What's up?"

"I'm bored. Let's do something."

"I can't right now Wanda, and it's ten in the morning. There isn't much to do on a Sunday."

"We should go somewhere outside. It's so pretty and we're not going to have much time once school starts tomorrow."

"Uh...I can't. I have things to do." I stalled.

"Liar. What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Well I'm coming over in an hour. Be ready to go to the lake."

"What lake?"

"Lake Michigan, silly. It's really close and it's going to be filled with hot guys."

"I don't want any hot guys." I instinctively looked at the computer screen but couldn't really make out anything.

"Well I want some. Be ready in two hours." She hung up before I had the chance to say anything else but to be honest, I wasn't listening to her.

I threw the phone back down on my bed and practically raced to the computer.

There were several articles on men named Joseph Rogers who was either that big man in the room with us at Plasma or another brother. Maybe the father? There were a couple of postings on a woman named Sarah who owned a successful design firm and of course James had promotional stuff up for his restaurants and clubs.

I scrolled down the page and tapped my foot faster. My bottom lip was nearly bleeding from the amount of pressure I was putting on it with my teeth.

Of course my eyes zoomed in on the title that read 'Chicago's Sexiest Bachelors'.

I clicked on the link and waited for the page to load while I chewed on my finger. There were thumbnail photos of about thirty men, all of whom were sexy in their own way but I wasn't looking at them. He was number four, how he wasn't number one was beyond me and I was seriously debating writing a petition to have him moved up.

I clicked on the image and my panties were flooded with a sudden rush of my physical lust.

"Sweet baby Jesus." I breathed as I looked at my computer screen.

Steve was in the most form fitting, tailored, navy blue suit I had ever seen as it clung to the strong lines of his body. He was standing tall with his arms crossed, against a window that overlooked the city in the background. His hair was more styled than it had been last night but his face and eyes were still the same. I would call him beautiful but that didn't seem to be the right word for a man like him. I would have to do another Google search to find the perfect adjective. Maybe exquisite, superb, godly?

He was almost too stunning to look at and my eyes kind of hurt but I couldn't not stare at him. What I wouldn't give to have him on my bed, tied up and naked.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" I played with the ends of my hair as I read the short biography.

Steve Rogers

Age: 25

Steve Rogers comes from the Rogers business dynasty and has grown up in the upper echelon of Chicago society. His father Joseph and mother Sarah have raised three boys but Steve seems to be the only one making serious rounds in the dating community. As a fresh, up-and-coming real estate mogul, the youngest Rogers brother has already been dubbed a revamped James Dean type with piercing blue eyes that can mesmerize.

"A guy likes confidence in a girl. I love a confident girl who will come up and talk to me," Rogers told us.  While Rogers isn't planning on settling down in the near future, that hasn't stopped him from "testing the waters" as he put it.

I didn't even notice that my hand was down my pants until it was almost too late. My index finger ran over my swollen clit and my butt lifted off of the chair, pushing my finger into my soaked entrance. I curled my finger slightly and kept up a constant rhythm as I looked at Steve's picture, his eyes boring into mine, causing my body to react immediately.

It only took two minutes before I was crashing down from the quickest yet most intense orgasm I had ever had. It took me significantly longer to bring myself back to reality as I rested my head on the back of the chair.

I stayed in that position for about half an hour, not moving, not blinking, barely breathing.

I pulled my hand back up when I could think again. I closed my laptop, not even caring to power it down. I stood up and paced the floor with heavy breathing.

Never in my life had I been so attracted to a man. Not even in my short hormonal period that I went through when I turned fifteen. Back then, everything with a penis had the ability to turn my head. Of course I wasn't a slut and didn't do anything with them until Clint came along but that still didn't stop me from having a few late night, hand parties under my sheets. Actually, Clint was the only person I had ever had sex with but that doesn't mean I didn't think about it.

This Steve fellow had the ability to turn me into a puddle just over the computer and that was dangerous.

There was a knock on my door that almost made me fall over. I calmed myself down and made sure that I looked somewhat pulled together, still in my pajama pants and a tank top.

I went to the door to let Wanda in.

"Are you ready?" She held up her hands to show off her hot pink cover up that was hiding what I suspected to be a skimpy bikini underneath.

"Oh...has it been an hour already?" I looked at the clock.

Her face fell. "What is wrong with you? Why do you look so flushed?" She lowered her sunglasses, "Is there a man in that bathroom?"

"No. It's just a little hot in here." I fanned myself.

"Well that's why we're going to the beach. I brought you a bathing suit."

"Oh God. Please have it cover me up." I prayed.

"Yes, I picked out something modest." She pushed her sunglasses up into her hair, "Now move! I want to leave soon."

"I can't go to the beach Wanda." I complained, pointing to the still covered up cut on my leg, "Sand and open wounds don't mix."

"Oh yeah." She pouted, "Sorry about that by the way."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I should have been watching you."

"We can do something else? Show me more of Chicago." I suggested, brightening her up.

"Okay." She jumped up and down, "Go get dressed."

I went into the bathroom to do my normal routine that only took a couple of minutes.

I walked out and went straight to my dresser. I pulled on a pair of short jean shorts that would provide me some kind of coverage but were still breathable in the Chicago heat and a tee shirt.

"Who's this?" Wanda pointed to the computer that I had shut but now stood open.

I quickly closed it before more questions began pouring from her mouth.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"No. I want to know who that was. I just saw the picture. I think I've seen him before." She tried to push my hand away but I wasn't budging.

"He's no one. Leave it alone." I snarled.

"Fine." She crossed her arms, "Make sure you bring money for the cab. I didn't bring my wallet."

I looked around the room and my face screwed up.

Where was my purse from last night?

I sent out the search party.

Wanda and I looked for the thing for an hour before we concluded that my purse wasn't there. I know I had it with me last night but who knows what really happened after I passed out. I could have left it on the couches or someone could have stolen it but I didn't think so. I remember having it with me in Edw…in his office. I think I saw it on the desk but I wasn't sure.

"It's not here Nat. What did you do with that purse?" Wanda said from under my bed.

"I don't know. I could have sworn that I had it with me last night."

"You did because I reminded myself when we walked into Plasma that I wanted to borrow the thing. It goes perfect with a blouse I just bought."

"Well you bought the stupid thing. I barely know what it looks like."

"It's a white clutch." She grumbled, going further under the bed.

"I bet I left it at the club when I feel or something." I sat in the chair by the desk, "Damn."

"What did you have in it?" Wanda crawled out from her spot and sat on the bed.

"Some money, not a lot but some and my , those were important."

"But you had your key last night, didn't you?"

"No, you let me in, remember?"

"Oh yeah." She thought for a second, "I guess we could call Plasma and see if what's-his-name picked it up."

My heart started to beat quickly at the thought of going back into that place. Maybe it was from excitement or nervousness but the scene of the crime was never a good place to be.

"Do…do you think James would still have it?" I asked skeptically, trying to cover up my new found enthusiasm. Just the thought of being in the same vicinity as Steve was about to make me combust.

She shrugged, "I don't see why not. We can find the number online."

Before I even had the chance to open up my laptop, the phone on my bed rang. Wanda and I both turned to look at it. Since she was closer, she picked it up like it was hers.

"Hello….oh…yeah….okay…she's right here…." She covered the phone with her hand, "It's an Steve. Do you know a Steve?"

Sudden flashes of green ran through my head like blades of grass being thrown from a lawn mower.

He was calling me?

"Uh…yeah. It was the guy near the door last night in the office." I said and calmly held my hand out for the phone.

"I didn't really see anyone."

"I wouldn't be surprised. You were going all Rambo on their asses to notice. Give me the phone."

She handed it over and I placed it to my ear, "Hello."

"Is this Natalia, from last night?" A cool voice came from the other line and I almost died right there. If Wanda wasn't here, I would have had my second "happy time" of the day.

"Yes, this is she." I replied formally. I don't know why.

"I don't even know if you'll remember me…"

"Of course I do. You bandaged my leg." I spoke a little too loudly and blushed over the phone. Damn it, damn it all to hell!

I heard him darkly chuckled over the phone, "I have your purse. You must have left it here. You had a list of numbers in your wallet and I just called the one that said it was your cell phone."

"Oh…well thank you."

"It's no problem. Would you like to come and get it or would you like me to bring it to you?"

There was a slight tinge in his voice that told me he had a narcissistic view of himself. It was almost as if he could bounce his voice in a way that would make him seem superior. I hoped he was just putting up a front over the phone because it would be a shame if he had all that beauty but a messed up personality.

"Um…well my friend Wanda and I were just about to go out. I guess we could meet you somewhere." I answered.

Wanda wrote something on a piece of paper eagerly and held it up for me to read.

"Sure." He replied.

"I can meet you in Grant Park, at the Buckingham fountain in what…an hour?"

Wanda nodded vigorously.

"That's fine with me. I'll see you then Natalia." He hung up the phone without any kind of goodbye and I was left with a low ringing dial tone.

"Well that was sufficiently awkward." I put the phone down.

"You like him." Wanda had a wicked grin on her face. "I can tell. That was the guy on the computer wasn't it? I remember now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Liar." She accused. "Don't you try to hide from me Natalia Romanov."

"I don't know what you mean." I was lying through my teeth but I was still hoping that she didn't notice.

"You are in so much denial. You blushed and you had that thing in your voice." She dragged me up.

"Thing?"

"Yeah. I can tell you had dreams about him. You masturbated to him didn't you? I know you did." She jumped off of the bed and did some kind of weird dance.

"I did not. Stop that." I pushed her back down so that she would sit still.

"You are just a hormonal little minx, aren't you? Who knew that Natalia Romanov would relieve herself to the likes of that guy. He was so…" She shuddered instead of speaking, "Although I have to admit that he had a nice body. I just got one glimpse but that was enough."

"Shut up." I grumbled.

She got off of the bed and began pulling me with her.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To meet your new lover. I want to see him close up and without my taser."

"Oh great. Scare him again." I stuffed my feet in my shoes.

"In my defense, I thought they were raping you. I was trying to help."

"You almost killed them."

"It wouldn't be the first time." She said nonchalantly, "Come on." She pulled me out of the door and my heart started beating faster by the second.

Wanda explained to me that we could get to Grant Park by walking and since it was a nice day, I didn't really have a problem stretching my legs. I was working on less than two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee so I was pretty energetic.

We had an hour to kill so we walked at a leisurely pace while talking about school and life. I was just trying to get her off the subject of Steve, which she didn't bring up again but I could tell that she wanted to. We arrived at the entrance of Grant Park from Columbus Avenue forty-five minutes later.

"So….who is your mystery man?" Wanda nudged me. I could see the spray from the fountain up ahead but I tried not to look too eager.

"I don't know. I only met him for a couple of seconds before you pushed me out of the door."

"Well we had to get out of there. It was weird." She shivered. "Something was going on in that room that I didn't like. The vibes were strange."

"The vibes, what are you now, physic?"

"Duh. I've been trying to convince people of that for years but no one believes me. Call it whatever you want but I've got the gift." She pushed her fingers to her temple.

"You are one strange woman." I said under my breath.

"Whatever. Do you need some moral support? I think he's just using your purse to get to you. What if he likes you too? What if he's like this…super sexy superhero with amazing powers or…"

"Okay, okay. I get it." I calmed her down. "I just hope he didn't go through my stuff."

"He probably just wanted to meet you again."

"Stop being stupid." I said. There was no way in hell Steve Rogers, Chicago's fourth sexiest bachelor, would want to meet me. He probably had tons more things to do than bring me my purse.

"Okay, well I'll be here if you need me." Wanda sat herself on a bench under some shaded trees and I kept walking towards Buckingham Fountain.

The whole place was huge and I had never seen so much water that wasn't in an ocean before. It was one of those Chicago landmarks that was on all of the postcards and had streams of water shooting into the sky. Majestic, bronzed, green horses were climbing out of the fountain and it looked like everything was actually moving. Stone and marble basins stood strongly as they peeked over the water top.

The surrounding area was filled with kids and families who were throwing pennies into the fountain. Large trees were covering the location with grassed places for sitting. Lots of old benches were around for people to sit and I noticed that people were eating lunch in the sun. It was very peaceful.

I just stood there and watched, trying to get my mind off of my masturbatory dream.

"It's a beautiful sight at night." A smooth voice whispered to me.

I jumped and spun around where Steve was holding out my clutch with a crooked grin on his face.

"You scared the crap out of me." I spoke softly, running my hands through my hair, smoothing it out.

"Sorry. I just couldn't help it. I was calling your name for about a minute." He chuckled marvelously.

"Oh…I guess I didn't hear you." I replied awkwardly.

"That's obvious. I brought your purse back and I promise I didn't steal anything."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Did you go through my things?" I took the purse from him, acting a little callous towards him but I didn't want to appear like a giddy school girl.

"No, I didn't have to after I found the cell phone list. I didn't want to impede on your privacy."

He crossed his arms behind him and I was glad that he had a pair of Ray Bans on or I might have been thrown to the floor by eyes.

I was worried that he would look at my driver's license and realize that I wasn't really twenty-one but he seemed to be telling the truth about not going through my things.

"Thank you." I said.

"No problem." His grin seemed to be permanent. Something about him was different today than it was last night and I couldn't put my finger on it. He just seemed to have this attitude about him that was very arrogant. He eyed me up and down in a creepy way and even though he was still sexy as hell, I was starting to wise up to his antics.

"Well thank you…for this and for last night." I pointed to the back of my leg.

"It wasn't a problem. It's not every day I get to wipe down a leg as beautiful as yours."

"Uh huh." I replied.

He was dressed in a very smart pair of black slacks and a light blue collar shirt that had its sleeves rolled up, looking old and young at the same time.

"You look very nice today." I said, trying to keep talking and not fantasize about the perfect chest that was underneath.

"I just came from church." He explained.

"That would explain it." I nodded, slipping further into awkwardness.

"Yeah." He shuffled his feet, "So, what do you have planned today?"

"It's the last day before school starts so Wanda and I are going to walk around a bit."

"You're in school?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." I blushed for some reason.

"Junior?"

"Yes." I said before I could stop myself. Just like last night when I told James I was twenty-one.

"Do you need a tutor? Maybe I could help you out sometime." Steve's voice filled with innuendo and that just made him even slimier in my eyes.

"Is that a pick up line?" I asked, not even hiding my discomfort or disgust with the situation.

"What would you do if I said yes?" He ran his hands through his hair, trying to smooth it out.

That was when I noticed that all of this was too calculated. Every movement he made seemed like it had been practiced and done over hundreds of times. He was trying to pick me up just like he did every other girl he met. It was flattering while also being extremely overconfident on his part. It was sickening to think that this was all he had to do before girls rolled over for him although I had to admit that he had done less with me last night and I was already infatuated.

"I would say that I'm not some chick who you can get to suck your dick by being a jackass." My bold side was starting to come out.

"I have been nothing but nice to you." His lips twitched into a small smirk. He obviously liked my reaction a little too much.

"You've been a little too nice."

"Isn't that what girls want?"

"What do you think I am?"

"I'm not sure. I just met you last night."

"Damn straight." I was breathing kind of heavily and was surprised that I hadn't slapped him by now. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself.

He kept up his smirk with his hands crossed behind his back, "Are you finished with your pathetic excuse for an early 19th century woman's suffrage speech?"

I was kind of taken aback by his boldness but then realized that people usually bowed to him. He was rich, fine as hell, obviously smarter than most scholars and had a hint of danger about him. What wasn't to love?

"You're impossible." I started to walk away but he gingerly took my wrist and turned me back around. I snatched away from his grasp.

"Am I annoying you?" He asked and was almost laughing.

"Immensely."

"Are you irritated?" He started to circle me like I was his fucking prey.

"Massively." I growled.

"Am I making you…angry?" He whispered in a delicious way close to my face.

I didn't even bother answering. My face held all the anger I was feeling.

"They say that anger is the sign of true passion. We could create magic together, Natalia."

"Are you that arrogant that you think I would…what, fuck you? I don't even know you."

"Perfect. Literally no strings attached. Okay, let me just get this out there. I think you're incredibly sexy and if you would let me, I would like to have a nice fuck before I go about my business." He stopped playing his games.

My mouth hung open as I digested his words. I did register somewhere that he had called me sexy but that was overshadowed by the fact that he thought he was going to get a quick fuck from me.

"Are you serious? Is that how you normally get girls?" I asked, stunned.

"Actually, no. Ideally, you would already be on your back by now." He got a little angrier, "You're very frustrating."

It was in that moment that Steve Rogers went from total heartthrob to every other ubiquitous jerk I met in high school.

"Thanks for bringing me back my purse." I didn't even chance a look back at him as I walked around the fountain.

I could feel his eyes on me and hoped that he got a good look of my ass because that was the last time he was ever going to see it.

[anavoliselenu]

blood chapter 4

I Google searched again and again.

Never in my life had I seen such an off shade of green but I just had to find it. I barely knew his name but as soon as I got home from Plasma last night, my mind wouldn't shut down. I felt like some drug crazed, groupie.

When Alice pulled me out of the office at Plasma, she was furious and still flailing her rather large taser around for everyone to see that she was tough shit. I was still slightly buzzed from the blood loss mixed with alcohol but nothing compared to the high I got from seeing those eyes for the first time. What the hell was wrong with me? Get it together Selena!

I looked at him once and already, I was itching to run my hands through his bronze hair or run my finger along his chiseled chest that was on full display for me last night. I wasn't an overly sexual person but I was a woman who just saw her first piece of true eye candy and Jesus have mercy, he was fine as hell.

Alice was less than amused and wouldn't answer my questions as to who my new Mystery Crush was. She was still pissed from having to bring out the big guns so didn't really notice my complete glazed over look as we sat in the back of the cab. She just kept talking and I just kept fantasizing.

It was completely embarrassing but I couldn't help it.

I was so wrapped up in Mystery Crush that I didn't even really feel the throbbing from the back of my leg that was so neatly bandaged, I thought someone had called a doctor. It was entirely ridiculous that I could have this physical attraction to some guy I barely saw for two seconds and then was rushed out of the door but I didn't feel like it had to be explained. If only I could see him one more time, I would be good for the rest of my life.

Does that even make sense?

Last night, I went to bed with dreams of green going through my head.

Emerald. Candy apple. Electric. Army. Fern. Sea. Shamrock. Jade. Pigment. Pine. Viridian. Wikipedia said that there were an estimated 9,142,857 different shades of green. I had probably gone through half of them by eight the next morning.

His name was Justin. Such an old-fashioned, strong name but it matched him perfectly. He just stood regally and it only took one second for me to fall for his looks. I bet that's how it always was.

I looked at the clock that now read ten a.m. I hadn't slept since five and I was starting to feel the effects but I wasn't going to rest until I found the right color of his eyes. They were still pulling me in every time I closed mine and thought about the three seconds I saw him standing near the door.

Last night, Justin was high, that was for sure but he still had the sexiest face I had ever seen. It wasn't just that he had a nice face, it was more than that. There was a fire behind him that I could sense and it turned me on immensely although that wasn't anything close to the way he looked at me. Even thought he was slightly inebriated, something about him was calling me. It was like I was drawn to him through his blood and that was fucking weird. I was even scaring myself.

"Pull yourself together, Selena." I rubbed my eyes to try and break Justin's spell on me.

I was a fucking junkie with my coffee next to me on the desk and my laptop powered up.

Since I couldn't sleep, I spent my time on the internet trying to find out who Mystery Crush was like a stalker but I wasn't ashamed.

Through a very circuitous route, I found that Jasper Bieber was the owner of Plasma, thus I figured that Justin's last name was the same.

"Come on." I tapped my foot impatiently as Google took its sweet time loading the page after I typed in 'Justin Bieber'. I didn't know anything else so I hoped that was enough to get me some sort of information.

My cell phone brought me out of my lusting and I nearly jumped five feet in the air. I looked around like a cartoon character, with my head shifting from side to side as I searched furiously for my phone that was buried under my un-slept in sheets. I found it near my pillow and picked up just as the ringing stopped. I always left my phone on the charger and never took it anywhere with me. I didn't even know why Charlie bought me the thing.

"Hello?" I answer quickly.

"Gezz Selena, you sound like you ran a marathon. What's going on?" Alice asked.

"Nothing." I lied and took several breaths to calm myself, "What's up?"

"I'm bored. Let's do something."

"I can't right now Alice and it's ten in the morning. There isn't much to do on a Sunday."

"We should go somewhere outside. It's so pretty and we're not going to have much time once school starts tomorrow."

"Uh...I can't. I have things to do." I stalled.

"Liar. What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Well I'm coming over in an hour. Be ready to go to the lake."

"What lake?"

"Lake Michigan, silly. It's really close and it's going to be filled with hot guys."

"I don't want any hot guys." I instinctively looked at the computer screen but couldn't really make out anything.

"Well I want some. Be ready in two hours." She hung up before I had the chance to say anything else but to be honest, I wasn't listening to her.

I threw the phone back down on my bed and practically raced to the computer.

There were several articles on men named Carlilse Bieber who was either that big man in the room with us at Plasma or another brother. Maybe the father? There were a couple of postings on a woman named Esme who owned a successful design firm and of course Jasper had promotional stuff up for his restaurants and clubs.

I scrowled down the page and tapped my foot faster. My bottom lip was nearly bleeding from the amount of pressure I was putting on it with my teeth.

Of course my eyes zoomed in on the title that read 'Chicago's Sexiest Bachelors'.

I clicked on the link and waited for the page to load while I chewed on my finger. There were thumbnail photos of about thirty men, all of whom were sexy in their own way but I wasn't looking at them. He was number four, how he wasn't number one was beyond me and I was seriously debating writing a petition to have him moved up.

I clicked on the image and my panties were flooded with a sudden rush of my physical lust.

"Sweet baby Jesus." I breathed as I looked at my computer screen.

Justin was in the most form fitting, tailored, navy blue suit I had ever seen as it clung to the strong lines of his body. He was standing tall with his arms crossed, against a window that overlooked the city in the background. His hair was more styled than it had been last night but his face and eyes were still the same. I would call him beautiful but that didn't seem to be the right word for a man like him. I would have to do another Google search to find the perfect adjective. Maybe exquisite, superb, godly?

He was almost too stunning to look at and my eyes kind of hurt but I couldn't not stare at him. What I wouldn't give to have him on my bed, tied up and naked.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" I played with the ends of my hair as I read the short biography.

Justin Bieber

Age: 25

Justin Bieber comes from the Bieber business dynasty and has grown up in the upper echelon of Chicago society. His father Carlisle and mother Esme have raised three boys but Justin seems to be the only one making serious rounds in the dating community. As a fresh, up-and-coming real estate mogul, the youngest Bieber brother has already been dubbed a revamped James Dean type with piercing green eyes that can mesmerize.

"A guy likes confidence in a girl. I love a confident girl who will come up and talk to me," Bieber told us.

While Bieber isn't planning on settling down in the near future, that hasn't stopped him from "testing the waters" as he put it.

I didn't even notice that my hand was down my pants until it was almost too late. My index finger ran over my swollen clit and my butt lifted off of the chair, pushing my digit into my soaked entrance. I curled my finger slightly and kept up a constant rhythm as I looked at Justin's picture, his eyes boring into mine, causing my body to react immediately.

It only took two minutes before I was crashing down from the quickest yet most intense orgasm I had ever had. It took me significantly longer to bring myself back to reality as I rested my head on the back of the chair.

I stayed in that position for about half an hour, not moving, not blinking, barely breathing.

I pulled my hand back up when I could think again. I closed my laptop, not even caring to power it down. I stood up and paced the floor with heavy breathing.

Never in my life had I been so attracted to a man. Not even in my short hormonal period that I went through when I turned fifteen. Back then, everything with a penis had the ability to turn my head. Of course I wasn't a slut and didn't do anything with them until Mike came along but that still didn't stop me from having a few late night, hand parties under my sheets. Actually, Mike was the only person I had ever had sex with but that doesn't mean I didn't think about it.

This Justin fellow had the ability to turn me into a puddle just over the computer and that was dangerous.

There was a knock on my door that almost made me fall over. I calmed myself down and made sure that I looked somewhat pulled together, still in my pajama pants and a tank top.

I went to the door to let Alice in.

"Are you ready?" She held up her hands to show off her hot pink cover up that was hiding what I suspected to be a skimpy bikini underneath.

"Oh...has it been an hour already?" I looked at the clock.

Her face fell, "What is wrong with you? Why do you look so flushed?" She lowered her sunglasses, "Is there a man in that bathroom?"

"No. It's just a little hot in here." I fanned myself.

"Well that's why we're going to the beach. I brought you a bathing suit."

"Oh God. Please have it cover me up." I prayed.

"Yes, I picked out something modest." She pushed her sunglasses up into her hair, "Now move! I want to leave soon."

"I can't go to the beach Alice." I complained, pointing to the still covered up cut on my leg, "Sand and open wounds don't mix."

"Oh yeah." She pouted, "Sorry about that by the way."

"It wasn't your fault."

"I should have been watching you."

"We can do something else? Show me more of Chicago." I suggested, brightening her up.

"Okay." She jumped up and down, "Go get dressed."

I went into the bathroom to do my normal routine that only took a couple of minutes.

I walked out and went straight to my dresser. I pulled on a pair of short jean shorts that would provide me some kind of coverage but were still breathable in the Chicago heat and a tee shirt.

"Who's this?" Alice pointed to the computer that I had shut but now stood open.

I quickly closed it before more questions began pouring from her mouth.

"Are you ready to go?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"No. I want to know who that was. I just saw the picture. I think I've seen him before." She tried to push my hand away but I wasn't budging.

"He's no one. Leave it alone." I snarled.

"Fine." She crossed her arms, "Make sure you bring money for the cab. I didn't bring my wallet."

I looked around the room and my face screwed up.

Where was my purse from last night?

I sent out the search party.

Alice and I looked for the thing for an hour before we concluded that my purse wasn't there. I know I had it with me last night but who knows what really happened after I passed out. I could have left it on the couches or someone could have stolen it but I didn't think so. I remember having it with me in Edw…in his office. I think I saw it on the desk but I wasn't sure.

"It's not here Selena. What did you do with that purse?" Alice said from under my bed.

"I don't know. I could have sworn that I had it with me last night."

"You did because I reminded myself when we walked into Plasma that I wanted to borrow the thing. It goes perfect with a blouse I just bought."

"Well you bought the stupid thing. I barely know what it looks like."

"It's a white clutch." She grumbled, going further under the bed.

"I bet I left it at the club when I feel or something." I sat in the chair by the desk, "Damn."

"What did you have in it?" Alice crawled out from her spot and sat on the bed.

"Some money, not a lot but some and my , those were important."

"But you had your key last night, didn't you?"

"No, you let me in, remember?"

"Oh yeah." She thought for a second, "I guess we could call Plasma and see if whats-his-name picked it up."

My heart started to beat quickly at the thought of going back into that place. Maybe it was from excitement or nervousness but the scene of the crime was never a good place to be.

"Do…do you think Jasper would still have it?" I asked skeptically, trying to cover up my new found enthusiasm. Just the thought of being in the same vicinity as Justin was about to make me combust.

She shrugged, "I don't see why not. We can find the number online."

Before I even had the chance to open up my laptop, the phone on my bed rang. Alice and I both turned to look at it. Since she was closer, she picked it up like it was hers.

"Hello….oh…yeah….okay…she's right here…." She covered the phone with her hand, "It's an Justin. Do you know an Justin?"

Sudden flashes of green ran through my head like blades of grass being thrown from a lawn mower.

He was calling me?

"Uh…yeah. It was the guy near the door last night in the office." I said and calmly held my hand out for the phone.

"I didn't really see anyone."

"I wouldn't be surprised. You were going all Rambo on their asses to notice. Give me the phone."

She handed it over and I placed it to my ear, "Hello."

"Is this Selena, from last night?" A cool voice came from the other line and I almost died right there. If Alice wasn't here, I would have had my second "happy time" of the day.

"Yes, this is she." I replied formally. I don't know why.

"I don't even know if you'll remember me…"

"Of course I do. You bandaged my leg." I spoke a little too loudly and blushed over the phone. Damn it, damn it all to hell!

I heard him darkly chuckled over the phone, "I have your purse. You must have left it here. You had a list of numbers in your wallet and I just called the one that said it was your cell phone."

"Oh…well thank you."

"It's no problem. Would you like to come and get it or would you like me to bring it to you?" There was a slight tinge in his voice that told me he had a narcissistic view of himself. It was almost as if he could bounce his voice in a way that would make him seem superior. I hoped he was just putting up a front over the phone because it would be a shame if he had all that beauty but a messed up personality.

"Um…well my friend Alice and I were just about to go out. I guess we could meet you somewhere." I answered.

Alice wrote something on a piece of paper eagerly and held it up for me to read.

"Sure." He replied.

"I can meet you in Grant Park, at the Buckingham fountain in what…an hour?"

Alice nodded vigorously.

"That's fine with me. I'll see you then Selena." He hung up the phone without any kind of goodbye and I was left with a low ringing dial tone.

"Well that was sufficiently awkward." I put the phone down.

"You like him." Alice had a wicked grin on her face, "I can tell. That was the guy on the computer wasn't it? I remember now."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Liar." She accused, "Don't you try to hide from me Selena Swan."

"I don't know what you mean." I was lying through my teeth but I was still hoping that she didn't notice.

"You are in so much denial. You blushed and you had that thing in your voice." She dragged me up.

"Thing?"

"Yeah. I can tell you had dreams about him. You masturbated to him didn't you? I know you did." She jumped off of the bed and did some kind of weird dance.

"I did not. Stop that." I pushed her back down so that she would sit still.

"You are just a hormonal little minx, aren't you? Who knew that Selena Swan would relieve herself to the likes of that guy. He was so…" She shuddered instead of speaking, "Although I have to admit that he had a nice body. I just got one glimpse but that was enough."

"Shut up." I grumbled.

She got off of the bed and began pulling me with her.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To meet your new lover. I want to see him close up and without my taser."

"Oh great. Scare him again." I stuffed me feet in my shoes.

"In my defense, I thought they were raping you. I was trying to help."

"You almost killed them."

"It wouldn't be the first time." She said nonchalantly, "Come on." She pulled me out of the door and my heart started beating faster by the second.

Alice explained to me that we could get to Grant Park by walking and since it was a nice day, I didn't really have a problem stretching my legs. I was working on less than two hours of sleep and three cups of coffee so I was pretty energetic.

We had an hour to kill so we walked at a leisurely pace while talking about school and life. I was just trying to get her off the subject of Justin, which she didn't bring up again but I could tell that she wanted to. We arrived at the entrance of Grant Park from Columbus Avenue forty-five minutes later.

"So….who is your mystery man?" Alice nudged me. I could see the spray from the fountain up ahead but I tried not to look too eager.

"I don't know. I only met him for a couple of seconds before you pushed me out of the door."

"Well we had to get out of there. It was weird." She shivered. "Something was going on in that room that I didn't like. The vibes were strange."

"The vibes, what are you now, physic?"

"Duh. I've been trying to convince people of that for years but no one believes me. Call it whatever you want but I've got the gift." She pushed her fingers to her temple.

"You are one strange woman." I said under my breath.

"Whatever. Do you need some moral support? I think he's just using your purse to get to you. What if he likes you too? What if he's like this…super sexy superhero with amazing powers or…"

"Okay, okay. I get it." I calmed her down. "I just hope he didn't go through my stuff."

"He probably just wanted to meet you again."

"Stop being stupid." I said. There was no way in hell Justin Bieber, Chicago's fourth sexiest bachelor, would want to meet me. He probably had tons more things to do than bring me my purse.

"Okay, well I'll be here if you need me." Alice sat herself on a bench under some shaded tress and I kept walking towards Buckingham Fountain.

The whole place was huge and I had never seen so much water that wasn't in an ocean before. It was one of those Chicago landmarks that was on all of the postcards and had streams of water shooting into the sky. Majestic, bronzed, green horses were climbing out of the fountain and it looked like everything was actually moving. Stone and marble basins stood strongly as they peaked over the water top.

The surrounding area was filled with kids and families who were throwing pennies into the fountain. Large trees were covering the location with grassed places for sitting. Lots of old benches were around for people to sit and I noticed that people were eating lunch in the sun. It was very peaceful.

I just stood there and watched, trying to get my mind off of my masturbatory dream.

"It's a beautiful sight at night." A smooth voice whispered to me.

I jumped and spun around where Justin was holding out my clutch with a crocked grin on his face.

"You scared the crap out of me." I spoke softly, running my hands through my hair, smoothing it out.

"Sorry. I just couldn't help it. I was calling your name for about a minute." He chuckled marvelously.

"Oh…I guess I didn't hear you." I replied awkwardly.

"That's obvious. I brought your purse back and I promise I didn't steal anything."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"I guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Did you go through my things?" I took the purse from him, acting a little callous towards him but I didn't want to appear like a giddy school girl.

"No, I didn't have to after I found the cell phone list. I didn't want to impede on your privacy."

Impede?This charmer had a vocabulary.

He crossed his arms behind him and I was glad that he had a pair of Ray Bans on or I might have been thrown to the floor by eyes.

I was worried that he would look at my driver's license and realize that I wasn't really twenty-one but he seemed to be telling the truth about not going through my things.

"Thank you." I said.

"No problem." His grin seemed to be permanent. Something about him was different today than it was last night and I couldn't put my finger on it. He just seemed to have this attitude about him that was very arrogant. He eyed me up and down in a creepy way and even though he was still sexy as hell, I was starting to wise up to his antics.

"Well thank you…for this and for last night." I pointed to the back of my leg.

"It wasn't a problem. It's not every day I get to wipe down a leg as beautiful as yours."

"Uh huh." I replied.

He was dressed in a very smart pair of black slacks and a light blue collar shirt that had its sleeves rolled up, looking old and young at the same time.

"You look very nice today." I said, trying to keep talking and not fantasize about the perfect chest that was underneath.

"I just came from church." He explained.

"That would explain it." I nodded, slipping further into awkwardness.

"Yeah." He shuffled his feet, "So, what do you have planned today?"

"It's the last day before school starts so Alice and I are going to walk around a bit."

"You're in school?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." I blushed for some reason.

"Junior?"

"Yes." I said before I could stop myself. Just like last night when I told Jasper I was twenty-one.

Pull it together, liar!

"Do you need a tutor? Maybe I could help you out sometime." Justin's voice filled with innuendo and that just made him even slimier in my eyes.

"Is that a pick up line?" I asked, not even hiding my discomfort or disgust with the situation.

"What would you do if I said yes?" He ran his hands through his hair, trying to smooth it out.

That was when I noticed that all of this was too calculated. Every movement he made seemed like it had been practiced and done over hundreds of times. He was trying to pick me up just like he did every other girl he met. It was flattering while also being extremely overconfident on his part. It was sickening to think that this was all he had to do before girls rolled over for him although I had to admit that he had done less with me last night and I was already infatuated.

"I would say that I'm not some chick who you can get to suck your dick by being a jackass." My bold side was starting to come out.

"I have been nothing but nice to you." His lips twitched into a small smirk. He obviously liked my reaction a little too much.

"You've been a little too nice."

"Isn't that what girls want?"

"What do you think I am?"

"I'm not sure. I just met you last night."

"Damn straight." I was breathing kind of heavily and was surprised that I hadn't slapped him by now. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself.

He kept up his smirk with his hands crossed behind his back, "Are you finished with your pathetic excuse for an early 19th century woman's suffrage speech?"

I was kind of taken aback by his boldness but then realized that people usually bowed to him. He was rich, fine as hell, obviously smarter than most scholars and had a hint of danger about him. What wasn't to love?

"You're impossible." I started to walk away but he gingerly took my wrist and turned me back around. I snatched away from his grasp.

"Am I annoying you?" He asked and was almost laughing.

"Immensely."

"Are you irritated?" He started to circle me like I was his fucking prey.

"Massively." I growled.

"Am I making you…angry?" He whispered in a delicious way close to my face.

I didn't even bother answering. My face held all the anger I was feeling.

"They say that anger is the sign of true passion. We could create magic together, Selena."

"Are you that arrogant that you think I would…what, fuck you? I don't even know you."

"Perfect. Literally no strings attached."

"Okay, let me just get this out there. I think you're incredibly sexy and if you would let me, I would like to have a nice fuck before I go about my business." He stopped playing his games.

My mouth hung open as I digested his words. I did register somewhere that he had called me sexy but that was overshadowed by the fact that he thought he was going to get a quick fuck from me.

"Are you serious? Is that how you normally get girls?" I asked, stunned.

"Actually, no. Ideally, you would already be on your back by now." He got a little angrier, "You're very frustrating."

It was in that moment that Justin Bieber went from total heartthrob to every other ubiquitous jerk I met in high school.

"Thanks for bringing me back my purse." I didn't even chance a look back at him as I walked around the fountain.

I could feel his eyes on me and hoped that he got a good look of my ass because that was the last time he was ever going to see it.

I tapped my pen in a systematic rhythm on the wood of my desk in my penthouse as I thought about…well, nothing in particular but I felt like I should be doing something productive. The only problem was that I couldn't bring myself to get busy with anything.

It had been like this for the past week, ever since I met Selena at the fountain to return her purse.

What the hell was wrong with her?

My normal tricks didn't work. Usually, it took three minutes, five tops to hook a woman. I had gotten it down to a very mechanical and precise routine but Selena shattered all that to hell. What the heck was her problem?

"I bet she's a lesbian." I nodded, trying to convince myself of that but it wasn't working.

This girl was grating on my last nerves. As a man who likes to play games and make conquests, Selena should have been an easy kill for me, a simple mark but somehow, my charm hadn't worked. I had been going over the events of that Sunday for the past week, trying to figure out where I went wrong but my photographic memory allowed me to see that I played my role to perfection. Therefore, the blame had to be placed on her.

I couldn't sleep that night. Well, I never slept but that night I was increasingly restless all because of that damned Selena. She was like a bug that was trying to borough under my skin and wouldn't leave me alone. She was becoming a serious problem in my eyes.

By Tuesday, she was clouding my judgment, making me forget simple things and I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. By Thursday, I had literally tried to fuck her out of my system by calling over almost every girl in my little black book but none of them were helping because I had already conquered them. By Friday, I was high on a shipment of cocaine that my father got from Vietnam and yet Selena was still able to break the barriers of my drug induced haze.

It was now Saturday, one of my days off but guess who was sitting at his desk like a bitch, trying to figure some girl out? Me!

I never once in my life had to work this hard for a lay and I had only met the woman twice, both times lasting less than a minute. Selena…

Selena.

Selena.

Selena?

What kind of name was that anyway?

I guess I could go to her but that was against my morals, code, routine, whatever you wanted to call it. I didn't chase women, they chased me. I half expected her to call on Monday but something about her told me that she wouldn't. It was weird. I felt like I knew this girl even though I had barley laid eyes on her. I had called her first, to give her the purse back. That was my gentlemanly hook and she was supposed to bite.

I kind of lost my cool with her for a second when I saw her at the fountain but that was only because she was distracting me. She looked…stunning even in her dressed down attire that I found oddly refreshing. I never wore anything but suits and the occasional workout clothes when I went to the gym but anything else wasn't appropriate. In any case, Selena kind of took me off guard that day.

I could usually just walk up to a girl, spit my lines, have her on my arm in five minutes, and have her in my bed within the hour. Selena made me anxious for some reason. She made me awkward and I had grown out of that fucking stage. I was a grown man and this wasn't high school so why did I feel like it was.

She was the hot cheerleader and I was the nerdy band geek but even in high school, I knew how to get women. Selena was different.

"She's a lesbian." I said again. I hit my pen more furiously on the desk as I thought about this chick. I had to figure her out.

I had to find a way to see her again and to make sure that I wasn't fucking crazy. I had to redo my act so that she would get it this time. I thought I had her there for a minute but then she flipped on me.

To make matters worse, Jasper couldn't stop talking about her. He was always mentioning 'The Swan' from Plasma and I was about to blow his head off. She was mine to conquer and he just kept going on about how beautiful she looked that night at the club. I knew that already, what I wanted to know was how beautiful she looked with her clothes off.

Jasper and I had never fought over girls, it was never that serious but with Selena, it might come to that. I didn't care what he did with her after I was finished but I had to be first. He was trying to find her number in the Northwestern registry but wasn't having much luck since they had a lot of their records protected. I would get some sort of reprieve when he asked about the other girl with Selena that night but besides the giant taser, I didn't really remember her.

He didn't know that I had already made contact with Selena and I was planning on keeping that to myself. He would never let me forget it if he learned that I struck out.

Struck out?

Was that what this was?

I had never had to deal with this before so the fact that I was sitting here with a girl on my mind was unfounded. Maybe I should start seeing my therapist again. What the fuck was wrong with me? I usually had the mental strength of a tiger but now I felt more like a rabbit or some shit like that.

I had to get her out of my head or I was going to go insane.

The phone rang, jolting me out of my seat. I reached for my gun that was in the open top drawer of the desk but put it back once I realized it was nothing.

"Jesus." I calmed myself, "Pull it together Justin." I ran my hand through my hair and smoothed out my shirt like the person on the other end of the phone could see me.

I'm already going insane.

I picked up, "Bieber."

"Bieber? That's my phone answering reply." My father laughed.

"Oh, hi Dad." I shuffled some papers on my desk so it sounded like I was working, "Did you need something?"

"Can't a father call his son without me needing anything?"

"I guess." I said skeptically.

"So…how's it going? You've seemed distracted lately."

"Fine. Nothing to report. You know me, just daydreaming about what it would be like to be out there, enjoying my summer." I joked. We both knew that wasn't true.

"You get more like me every day. I was in your same position at that age." He sighed, "The thrill of youth."

"I've seen the pictures. Your youth days were pretty fulfilling if I remember correctly."

"Don't get me started. I remember one time…" He paused for a couple of second,"…well we won't get into that."

"Uh huh. Don't be ashamed or your wild days." I laughed.

"Okay, I see I need to keep things professional with you. I do have a reason for calling."

"I knew it."

"Anyway, we have an issue with the Japanese syndicate."

"Oh?"

"Did you read this morning's paper?"

"No, I didn't get the chance." I cradled the phone on my shoulder so that I could look up The Chicago Tribune on the computer, "Fill me in."

"Emmett should be calling you soon with the details but basically, Shinobu screwed us over."

"What did he do now? I swear, I told him to keep everything quiet."

"Well he's back in the states now but the shipment was caught trying to get into the country. Everyone's making a big deal about it. He got caught with my guns Justin." My father stressed and I heard an indication of terror in his voice.

The Cullens have several ways of getting what we needed into the country. If you were coming from the South America or Mexico, it was easy as driving across. The security down there was shit so no one really cared. Coming across an ocean was more difficult although not impossible. Guns were the hardest since they couldn't be concealed like drugs but over the years, my father had perfected his methods. I didn't know the real logistics of it all but what I did know was that we had a massive web of illegal activity under our name and had yet to be caught.

"What do you want me to do?" I asked him.

"I was smart enough to keep the destination under wraps so no one knows where the guns were headed but now they're sitting in some government warehouse. Those are mine Justin and someone has to pay for them because I have to hand them over to the Russians soon. "

"I know, I know." I went through records in my head, trying to figure out how much of a mess we were in, "What happened to Shinobu?"

"He's sitting pretty in his penthouse downtown since the Feds let him go. He just called me and apologized. Can you believe that? He apologized to me for losing my shipment. He didn't send money, compensation, nothing."

"Do we have to do this on a Saturday?" I groaned.

"You have something better to do?"

Yes, think about Selena.

"No." I replied.

"Then we're finishing this. I want my compensation and you boys need to go get it."

"Alright, fine. You'll have your guns by the end of the day Old Man."

My father's voice seemed to calm in an instant, "Thank you and tell your brothers to come over for dinner tonight. You're more than welcome if you want but I know how you like to go out on Saturdays."

"I'll be there." I hung up the phone and beat my head on the table.

There were few days when I would rather sit and do nothing than get out there with my gun but today was one of those days. I would have given anything to stay in bed but business called. What did normal twenty-five year olds do anyway? I would have to find out later.

I made a quick call to Jasper who was already geared up to go and then Emmett who was busy trying to make an inventory of what we needed. I was slightly impressed when he told me that he was already on the situation until he went off onto a tangent of the fun him and Rose had last night. That's Emmett for you. A layer of brains wrapped under a layer of muscle and then sexual stupidity.

I shut down my computer, straightened out my desk and then made sure I had everything I needed before leaving the office on the second floor of my apartment. I went into the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and shoved a granola bar down my throat before throwing my jacket over my shoulder. I locked up and set the security code before shutting the door to my apartment.

I was in the elevator a couple of seconds later and tapped my foot on the carpeted floor, noticing how ugly the thing looked. It was a drab beige color that had no life to it. It wasn't like I cared but since this was my building I wanted to make sure that it at least looked presentable. I made a mental note to have all the carpets changed. Other people lived here too but there wasn't any kind of association for these kinds of things. I made my own decisions.

The elevator dinged on Jasper's twenty-fifth floor and he sauntered in lazily while whistling a tune.

"Howdy." He waved, "You ready to deal with Yakuza street trash?"

"Always am. I brought my Browning 9x19 today." I flashed my gun that was situation prettily in my belt.

"I see you came prepared." He quirked an eyebrow.

"Got to with these fuckers." I growled just thinking about the shit I was about to put up with.

"Che cosa hai fatto ieri sera?" I asked him in Italian for no reason in particular.

What did you do last night?

He shrugged, "Seduto a casa a guardare la partita di baseball"

Sat at home and watched the baseball game.

I nodded to myself at how sad our lives were, "Hai saputo niente altro su Selena?"

Did you find anything else out about Selena?

"No, lei cerca di nascondersi da me." He replied with a smirk.

No, she's trying to hide from me.

I twisted my neck to loosen up the nerves that were starting to build just thinking about what sick thoughts that were going through Jasper's head. Selena wasn't his and I had to make that known but I didn't want to make myself seem too eager. He would never let me live it down if he found out that I was actually chasing a girl.

The elevator arrived on Emmett's floor and he came in with his head buried in a piece of paper. Like we were all on the same wavelength, he spoke in Italian, "Non parlare. Sono woking"

Don't talk, I'm working.

We all stayed silent until we reached the garage level.

"What do we need chief?" I asked Emmett as we went to the section that was blocked off for our cars only.

"Not much. "I'll tell you when we get there." He shrugged.

"I think we should take the Hummer today. We might be coming back with a lot." Jasper nodded towards Emmett's huge black tank of a truck that he bought for his month long fascination with off roading

"Great." I replied sarcastically as we stalked off towards the beast.

Emmett giddily jumped in front and started the thunderous engine that rattled the car to its core. I climbed in the front seat and Jasper got in the back. There was actually a harness that wrapped around my body for safety purposes.

"Who drives a Hummer in the city anyway?" I asked as I strapped myself in.

"Me." Emmett laughed evilly as he pulled out of the parking lot and whipped the car around like it was made of plastic. I said the rosary in my head as he raced out of the parking garage at an unhealthy speed for this tank.

We rattled and shook down the crowded streets of Chicago, making the cars below look like punk go-karts.

"I think some of us value our life." Jasper shouted from the back over the engine as Emmett took a turn at well over the speed limit.

"Whatever. This is nothing compared to the Yakuza den we're about to enter." Emmett gave another maniacal laugh but he was right.

Shinobu Moioka was about my age and another rival that I had to deal with when I was first starting out in this life. He was from a rich Japanese family that had ties in ancient Japan, dating back for centuries. Like the Cullens, the Moiokas were tough shit but dealt with things a lot differently. I guess they would be considered our Asian equivalent. Shinobu was wild and uncontrollable, making him sloppy. We wouldn't even be using him if his gun supply wasn't so good.

The father of the family was weak, letting his son rule over him without respect. Carlisle would never allow some of the things that went on in that family but to each his own I guess.

Shinobu was an American born, half French, half Japanese but he would fight anyone to the death if you said that. To him, he was full Japanese. His mother was some French model who had charmed her way into Shinobu's father's life. No one really acknowledged her though because she was an "outsider" since the two weren't married and she wasn't Japanese. It was that way with all mob families. The bloodlines had to be viable and connected to the old country in some way as far as marriages went.

Good thing Rose had Italian in her or Emmett might have to find him another girlfriend but that's beside the point. Shinobu didn't acknowledge his French side, leaving his mother out in the cold.

He was young, a partyer, drinker, smoker and we had had fun on some occasions whenever he was in town but I tried to keep my distance from him. He was too unmanageable for me and I was more than tempted to just kill him but that would start a Chicago battle that would have obliterated the entire city. Not a good thing.

"What the hell do you think he's going to be like today?" Emmett grumbled, obviously thinking the same thing I was.

"Ole' Shin Shin. We've had good times." Jasper laughed.

"I just hope he doesn't try to play Russian roulette like we did the last time." I rolled my eyes just thinking about how horrible that experience was.

"He is a trip." Jasper sighed, "I just want to make it home in one piece. Ma's making cioppino for dinner and I don't want to miss it."

"We'll be fine." Emmett waved it off like this was nothing.

Emmett pulled the Hummer onto the south end of North Jefferson Street and the polished apartments shinned on both sides.

"180." I said and pointed to the building where Shinobu lived whenever he was in Chicago. This area was known as the West Loop, catering to those Chicagoians who thought they had money and tried to show off but everyone knew all the real wealth was uptown.

"I just got il freddo." Jasper shuddered as we went into the underground parking garage.

Il freddo or The Chill, as we called it, was the feeling we all got when going into situations like these. It was our survival instinct telling us to run but at this point in our lives, we had been able to suppress that emotion. Now, a slight coldness would just creep through our bodies when we got into business mode.

"Stay on your toes." Emmett parked the tank and we all got out. I didn't bother getting my jacket because I needed to be free.

I shoved the Browning deeper into my belt as we walked towards the elevators. Two huge, Japanese security guards stood at the entrance with sunglasses and crossed arms, looking like something out of a comic book.

I let Jasper take the lead since he was the only one of us who spoke Japanese fluently although I could understand a lot of it.

Jasper spoke professionally and quickly, stating our business without any pleasantries.

Security Guard No. 1 made a rapid call that took three seconds before he hung up and stepped aside.

Jasper, Emmett and I walked into the glass elevator before pressing the penthouse button. The elevator shot up and Emmet pulled his list out of his pocket, handing it to me. I looked it over and got a gist of what my father wanted from Shinobu. Just a few handhelds and explosives, nothing too much but enough that I knew a shipment was going to be made to the house. There was no way we could bring all of that back even in Emmett's Hummer.

The guns for us but my father was acting as a halfway point between the Yakuza and the Bratva, the Russian version of the mafia. One thing that you learned in this underground world was that clans never mixed but somehow, my father had made friends with all of them and served as the buffer for many families that needed interactions completed and didn't want to do them themselves.

"This should be fun." I sighed as the elevator reached the top floor.

As soon as the doors opened, we were pulled out and frisked by more security guards who pushed us up against the wall. I had been through this many times so I knew what to do.

"Weapons?" A gruff voice asked and I emptied my pockets, showing I didn't have anything but my wallet and then flashed the gun in my belt.

"That's all I have." I replied dryly.

He eyed me skeptically and eyed him back, daring him to say something.

He nodded and let us by.

Jasper, Emmett and I walked down a long hallway with doors on each side. Windows were open to show the city below and I felt an odd sense of competitiveness as I compared Shinobu's building to mine. Call it a Freudian theory on male dominance but I always had to win whether it was a competition or not.

I knocked rapidly on the door at the end of the hall and even from the other side I could hear the thumping techno.

"Jesus, it's only two in the afternoon and I bet he's already plastered." Jasper muttered.

"Yeah." I agreed, "Let's just hope he has a clear head."

The door was flung open and another burly guard stepped aside for us to enter.

The whole apartment was filled with smoke that I could taste was marijuana and cigar. The shades were drawn, not letting any light in and strobe balls were on the floor, casting oddly shaded colors over the walls. It was like a fucking club in here but I guess that was Shinobu's style. Life was a club to him. Naked Japanese women waved to us as we walked through the apartment though they had no appeal to me. I was here for business, we'll talk about pleasure later.

Shinobu was situated in a steaming hot tub in his sunken living room with a group of girls around him, a thick cigar hanging out of his mouth and a glass of bourbon in his hand.

"Boys, I was wondering when I was going to get a call from you!" He shouted when we came in. I had to roll my eyes at his fake Japanese accent that he had acquired over the years, trying to mask his true heritage.

"Shinobu." I nodded professionally.

"What's with the stick up your ass Eddie? Come on in, have a drink." He replied.

"I don't' think so." Jasper spoke from next to me, "We're here for our father's guns, the ones that are currently in lockup thanks to you." He clarified.

He brushed it off, acting like he had no idea what we were talking about, "Please. I sent those guns off two days ago."

"Really? The same guns that we didn't get?" Emmett asked.

"Yeah, it's not my fault."

"All I know is that I came here to pick up compensation. You lost the shipment so you have to give us something to work with." I stopped beating around the bush. Now was not the time to be nice.

"You Bieber boys think you rule the world, don't you?" He jumped out of the tub, grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist, "It's not like I meant to get the stuff caught up in customs but if those fuckers didn't feel the need to check everything…"

"I thought you have people in customs?" Emmett walked around, trying to get as far away from Shinobu as possible. They had never really gotten along.

"Well, obviously something fell through." He snapped and glared at us.

"We're not leaving until we have our father's stuff." Jasper was very stern and made his point clear by pulling his gun out for the entire world to see. "You know how Carlisle can get about his guns."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw guards at the ready, hands on weapons, feet in the attack position.

"This isn't going to go down that road." Shinobu sighed. He wasn't stupid and a shootout in his apartment wouldn't end well for him, "You'll get your stuff." He snapped his fingers and the girls were removed from the room, the security was thinned out and covered tables were brought in on rollers.

The sheets were ripped from the tables to reveal shinning guns and beautiful firearms. My whole body seemed to know it was in the presence of superior artillery and I felt like I was having sex. It was the same kind of high for me.

I circled the tables, trying to quickly see what was needed. Emmett picked up an impressive Kel-Tec RFB, It was one of those long sniper rifles that you saw in the movies but never thought was real.

"Are these the new ones?" Emmett asked as he held it in the shooting position, his eye looking through the scope.

"Yep." Shinobu replied proudly, "Twenty-six inches of perfect stainless steel, fluted barrel, plus a suppressor. Has a muzzle velocity in excess of 3000 feet per second and can pop someone off from a good mile or so."

I almost jumped over the table to steal the thing from Emmett. It was so sleek and beautiful but I kept my cool.

"How many do you have?" Jasper asked in a clipped tone.

"Five right now but I owe Carlisle six. I have other rifles if you want to take a look. This is all I have until my next trip back home so your father will just have to make do with what is here."

This fucker was starting to get on my last nerves. Who the hell did he think he was? He was playing with someone else's money here and it was completely unacceptable for him to be messing with my shit.

Two hours later, Jasper, Emmett and I were walking out of Shinobu's apartment building with written agreements for the shipments to arrive on Carlisle doorstep within the next twenty-four hours. No exceptions. The amount of money he owned us wouldn't have been enough to sell his blood to a vampire and Shinobu knew he was in deep horse crap. If we had to make another trip to him to get our stuff, we might leave with his head in a bag. Carlisle didn't play around with his shit and expected the best from whoever he was working with. I actually feared for Shinobu's life if he didn't pull through.

"That wasn't as bad as I thought." Emmett said as he pulled out of the parking garage, heading towards Esme's.

"That's because he was high and sedated." I snickered.

"Whatever, I like the new Shinobu."

On the ride home, that damned, brunet popped back into my head.

Selena…

It was weird how easy it was to push her out of my head but no matter how hard I tried, she always came back like a mosquito or a parasite. That's what she was, a parasite.

What happened to the strong, unwavering Justin who never looked back at a girl? What happened to the strength of the tiger?

I shook my head, trying to clear my damn thoughts but she was always there so I just had to focus on something else.

As we pulled up to the front gate of my parent's house, I thought of what my father would do in this situation. He was more of a softie than I was and he would say something like I needed to court Selena but that was pointless. I just wanted sex. What was the point of making an effort if I was just going to throw her away?

That thought made my stomach churn for some reason. Throw her away? Then someone else might have her.

I actually scratched the skin of my arm like a meth addict as I thought more and more about how I was going to get Selena into my bed. It was like planning a war with my million man army against her lone brown eyes.

I was certifiably insane.

"Hey, do you have pen?" Tyler asked from behind me.

"No. You ask me that every day and every day I say that same thing. Leave me alone." I snapped without turning around.

I refocused my thoughts back on the professor at the front of the cavernous, arena style classroom.

Another Monday was upon us and even though I had only spent a week in school, it felt much longer. I was in a bad mood. Not only was it "that time of the month" but I was more frustrated than ever because those damn shades of green were still haunting my dreams. He was still haunting my dreams.

If I knew college was going to be this hard, I would have stayed in Forks. But the thing was, nothing was as hard as suppressing the attraction I was feeling for Justin.

I had met the man twice and he was controlling me. It was scary to the point of sleep deprivation. I didn't even want to close my eyes at night because he would be there, watching me, taunting me, loving me.

Oh yes, I went there.

The sex dreams were the worst because I couldn't do anything about them. Nothing short of stick my hand down my underwear provided me with any kind of release but even after I was done, my body was still wound tight like a coil because they were just fantasies, dreams, nightmares. Nothing was like the real physical touch of his hands and I was about to jump off a building from insanity.

I kept tabs of my sins in my head because I figured that I would have to recite them to St. Peter at the gates of heaven. I wasn't a religious person by any means but even I knew that the intense lustful thoughts I was having were enough to send me to hell if I didn't repent. The dangerous thing about it all was that I could have cared less.

I used to live my life with some sort of morality but in my head, all bets were off when it came to Justin. If he came to me tomorrow and said that he wanted me to strangle Alice, I would have done it just to feel his lips on mine. He was controlling me like a puppeteer and I was slightly scared by that.

The only form of solace I got was that I never had to see Justin again. I wasn't planning on ever going back to Plasma and he was twenty-five so it wasn't like we ran in the same circles. Chicago was big enough that he could live on one side and I could live on the other. We wouldn't have to even cross paths and I was thanking every God in heaven for that.

To be honest, I didn't even have time to think about Justin unless I was sleeping because I was so busy otherwise. I quickly found out that the Northwestern curriculum was demanding for a reason. The university was trying to crank out the top lawyers, businessmen, engineers, and doctors in the whole country so a lot was required from us. I was keeping up but it took work.

I had adjusted pretty well, all thanks to Alice and my life fell into an easy routine that I liked. I would wake up and basically spend all day in class, fall into trances about Justin during my downtime, go back to my dorm and study with Alice, eat when I needed and then sleep, dreaming about Justin again.

He was riding to high on my priorities list for me and I was going to have to find a way to bring him down.

"Are you sure you don't have a pen?" I felt a tap on my shoulder again.

"You want a pen?" I quickly spun around and threw it at Tyler's head, "There. Stop bothering me."

Tyler Crowly had to be the most annoying boy I had ever met but no matter how hard I tried, he wouldn't leave me alone. He was cute, nothing as beautiful as Justin but was there any male specimen out there who could compare to my green eyed man? No.

Tyler was tall, tanned, blonde haired and hazel eyed. He was a year older than me and made sure everyone knew what a great hockey player he was. All the girls were going crazy because of him but I seemed to be the only one turned off by his arrogance. What was it with guys and their egos? It wasn't flattering at all.

In any case, Alice said he liked me, which I already knew but I was trying to deny it with all my being. Every day he would ask me for a pen and then give it back when he realized he had one in his pocket. His arrogance made him annoying and his annoyance made him childish. He wouldn't leave me alone. He had already asked me out on two occasions and I had of course said no but it didn't seem to faze him any. He was a chaser.

"Thanks for the pen but I just found one." He whispered over my shoulder and handed mine back to me, making sure to brush his hand past my hair. I cringed slightly and then refocused on my literature professor.

I was intrigued by this class because it was so difficult but right up my alley. It was more of a contemporary classical literature class, dealing with books that made an impact on America in the 20th century. I was soaking up the information like a sponge and really enjoyed class discussions although Tyler and sometimes even my mental Justin kept my thoughts occupied.

Our first assigned book was Upton Sinclair's The Jungle, a hard hitting look at the Chicago based meatpacking industry in the early part of the 1900s. It was famous for shinning light on the depravity and pure horror of the meat plants that employed immigrants for basically nothing. It was a journalistic piece disguised as fiction but still got Sinclair's message across. In high school, I only got through the first half of the book before I had to put it down. The filth, grime, and muck that were presented in the novel were a little too much for me. This go-round, I was doing slightly better and was almost finished with it.

I took a glance at the page I was currently on and decided to read a little more.

All day long the blazing midsummer sun beat down upon that square mile of abominations: upon tens of thousands of cattle crowded into pens whose wooden floors stank and steamed contagion; upon bare, blistering, cinder-strewn railroad tracks, and huge blocks of dingy meat factories, whose labyrinthine passages defied a breath of fresh air to penetrate them; and there were not merely rivers of hot blood, and carloads of moist flesh…

That was as far as I was going to get in this class period. I had to read the thing in installments because it was so disgusting.

I felt Tyler's foot tapping on the back of my chair and I was tempted to turn around and beat the shit out of him but I didn't feel like it. I barely had enough energy to keep my eyes open all thanks to Justin's dream hold on me. I was woken up at three this morning with sweat all over my body and my mind racing with sexual fantasies that would have made a prostitute blush.

"So class, that's all I have for today. Make sure you read the last few chapters of the book and be prepared for a quiz on Friday." The professor spoke loudly so that everyone could hear him.

I started to gather my things and the classroom filled with the noise of scarping chairs and stacked papers.

"Hey, Selena." Tyler's voice came from behind me. I hung my head, hoping he would go away, "I was just wondering if you could help me out with this book. It's really kicking my ass." He came in front of me.

"No, I can't help you."I clipped.

"Why?"

"Because I saw your last quiz grade. You should be helping me."

He shrugged, "I can do that. You need me to come over or something?"

I gave him a pitiful look before I just turned around to leave, my backpack over my shoulders but he caught up with me.

"Okay, I was just kidding. I don't need help but I want to see you…outside of school."

"Are you asking me out again? This is what, the third time?"

"You keep shutting me down." He jutted out his lip in a pout that was incredibly embarrassing for him but he didn't seem to mind.

"Let's just say that I say yes, then what?" I gave him the option and he brightened up.

"Well then I would take you out and we would have an incredible time."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes." He answered simply.

"Okay, we'll go out…one time." I held up my finger, "And that's it. If I don't like the date, then you have to stop asking me."

"Really? Sweet!" He pumped his fist in the air.

"One time, Tyler." I yelled after him as he ran up the stairs.

"I'll call you later. Don't worry Selena, you're going to love it." He bumped into the door on his way out but that couldn't stop the bounce in his step.

"I highly doubt that." I muttered to myself as I went up the stairs and followed the stream of students outside.

I didn't have another class until later that afternoon so this was the time Alice and I usually went to lunch.

I walked outside into the bright sunlight and my eyes immediately went to Alice who was sitting on a bench in jeans and a hot pink jacket that astronauts could probably see from space. Her heels were making holes in the grass and she had a pair of cat-like sunglasses with pointed, rhinestone covered rims.

I was slightly embarrassed by her but then realized that this was Alice and there was no changing her so I might as well get used to it.

"Hello, my love." Alice jumped off the bench when I approached and wrapped her arms around me.

"Hi." I patted her back.

"How was class?" She let go and began lively skipping off towards the dining hall where we always ate.

"Good. I'm almost done with The Jungle."

"Yuck, I hate that book."

"Me too but it's not that bad if you don't think about it."

"Still, I won't be reading it anytime soon. Was Tyler annoying again?"

"Yes but I think I found a way to shut him up. I said yes when he asked me on another date…"

"You did what?" She pulled her glasses down over her nose.

"I said yes but only one date. I know it won't go well so I told him that after this, we're through. He's become way too irritating."

"So…what you're saying here is that I can dress you up?"

"Is that all you got from that conversation?" I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah." She tapped her chin, "I think I need to go shopping again. Don't worry, I'll spare you but you have to wear what I say."

"Whatever, Alice. Just don't make me look like a slut. I'm still not over Plasma."

"I know, I might as well put Justin's picture as your screensaver." She giggled.

"Shut up. You said you weren't going to talk about him anymore."

"I can't help it. You just get so hazy eyed when I even say his name. It's hilarious."

I had told Alice a partial version of the feelings I was having and she thought it was funny that I was being tortured by my imaginative crush.

What a friend!

Alice and I ate lunch as usual. By the time my last class was over, I was starting to regret my decision to go out with Tyler because Alice wouldn't stop talking about it. She was determined to get me a boyfriend by the time Halloween approached.

I finished the day up like I always did, studying in my room after a rather long call from my mother who wanted to know when I was coming to visit her in Florida. I really didn't know when that would be but I replied with a 'soon' and that seemed to keep her at bay. I called Charlie before I attempted to sleep but just like every other night, Justin ripped through my mind, making it impossible for me to even close my eyes.

By the time Friday rolled around, I had gotten maybe fifteen hours of sleep collectively from five days. That was a problem. This wasn't healthy. It might have sounded better if I was up all night studying but that was never the case.

I sat in my literature class, tapping my pen on my desk as I focused on the quiz that I had already completed. I breezed through it easily. Tyler had moved his seat from behind me to next to me. We were so far up in the room that we could talk without getting caught.

"Are you ready for our date tonight?" He whispered to me.

"Stoked." I replied dryly.

"It's going to be awesome. I'll come get you at seven."

"Where are we going?" I asked, just trying to take my mind off of this mundane quiz. I had already checked over it three times.

"Downtown to a nice restaurant."

"I don't want you spending too much money."

Especially on one date that won't ever go anywhere.

"It's no problem. Dad just sent me a money order so I'm ready for a night out on the town."

Tyler was from that rich side of society where his parents spent their lives in Europe, leaving him to bounce from boarding school to boarding school. The amount of money he had only added to his superiority that he thought he deserved.

"Oh well then by all means, spend away." I said sarcastically.

"Sure thing. You won't ever want to go on a regular date again." He smiled proudly.

I kept my head down for the rest of the class, checking over my quiz four, five, six times. If I didn't get a perfect score, I was dropping out.

"Okay, so I'll see you at seven, right?" Tyler asked for conformation when we were turning in our papers on the front desk.

"Yes and I'll be ready with a smile." I said as mockingly as possible so that he knew I was not going to have fun but his head was too thick to get it.

"Awsome. Don't forget, seven." I think I saw him prance out of the room.

"I should just kill myself right now."

I got back to my dorm at five that afternoon with a very annoyed Alice sitting on my bed with her arms crossed.

"I don't know how I feel about you having a key anymore." I said as I put my bag down.

"Too bad. Why are you late?"

"I had to go print of some notes in the library."

"Well now I only have two hours to turn you into something beautiful." She pouted.

"Oh, well thanks for the wonderful shot of confidence."

"Shut up. Get into the shower." She pushed me towards the bathroom.

After my shower, I was sat in front of the mirror while Alice did my makeup, which she insisted that I needed done since I was on the prowl for a boyfriend and my lack of sleep had left bags under my eyes that made me look like a raccoon. Following my makeup, my hair was put in a stylish messy bun that sat at the base of my neck and left a few tendrils of long curly hair to frame my face.

"Okay, now for the dress I picked out. It's so cute." Alice pulled me into the room.

"I hope it covers up some skin." I said as I sat on the bed.

"It will do." She shrugged and fumbled in a bag for something, "And I don't want you complaining about the shoes either. Here it is."

She held up a dress that look too tight and too sophisticated for me but I was done fighting her.

The dress was a two toned cocktail number that had a ruched, white, one shoulder top and a sleek banded, black skirt on the bottom. I put it on and just like I suspected, the thing fit like a glove around my body, showing off my waist. It stopped at a respectable length a couple of inches above my knee and I looked surprisingly mature.

"You look so cute. Okay, now time for shoes." Alice bounced, "Don't say a word about them." She held up a pair of terrifying pumps that would probably be the death of me.

"Alice…"

"I know, I know but they look so good with the dress. I want you to look nice."

"I would look fine in something two inches shorter."

"But…they don't even make heels that short." She said confused.

I gave her a look to say that she wasn't fooling me and she rolled her eyes.

"Okay fine. I knew you would complain so I got a different pair. These will be a little better." She got some more shoes out of the bag that were a more respectable height.

"Those are better." I took them from her hand and slipped on the closed toed, black, pumps that had a red sole. I knew enough about shoes to detect that the bottom meant Christian Louboutin. I didn't even want to know how much they cost because I would probably pass out.

"There." Alice nodded in approval, "And your purse." She handed me a black clutch, "Don't lose this one."

"I didn't lose the last one. Edw…He stole it. I know he did."

"Whatever Selena just make sure you bring everything back."

An hour later, there was a happy knock on the door and I got up from my seat to answer it. Alice had left me awhile ago so I could just cop out of this date if I wanted to but I knew that would only make Tyler more persistent.

I opened the door and found him in a nice pair of slacks, a pressed white shirt and a dinner jacket that was left open.

"You look amazing." Tyler eyed me up and down.

"Thank you." I closed the door behind me and made sure I had my key. I decided to not be so mean to the poor boy. Even though I knew this wasn't going anywhere, I could have a good time and make up some excuse as to why I didn't want to go out with him anymore.

"So, you ready to go?"

"Yes. Where are we off to?" I asked as we got into the elevators.

"My favorite restaurant, Carmel. Its downtown and everyone loves it."

"Sounds good to me. I don't know anything else so you could take me to Burger King and I would be fine."

"You're too beautiful for Burger King." He tried to take my hand but I scrambled to fix with my hair, keeping it occupied.

We got off of the elevators and there was a cab already waiting outside. Tyler opened my door and then situated himself next to me in the back. He gave clear and concise directions to the driver who sped off into the crowded streets. The drive was silent but not uncomfortable. Tyler kept humming, trying to fill the silence and I just looked out of the window.

The lights of the city still amazed me when I saw them at night. They kind of reminded me of the stars back in Forks, which I didn't see much anymore. You can't see stars in a city so it was nice to have some reminder of home.

We got to the restaurant half an hour later, made longer by the traffic we had to battle.

"Here we are." Tyler paid the cab driver and then helped me out of the back.

The front of Carmel was very modern, covered in earth tones and big windows. We went inside where Tyler gave his name before we were escorted to our booth in a corner. Carmel was a nice restaurant that evoked the feeling of a Japanese rock garden. There were soft waterfalls and glowing lights on the tables along with bamboo shoots that added accents to the massive dining room, which held maybe fifty tables.

I sat in the booth on the side facing the entrance because it was closer to the waterfall behind me and I needed anything I could to make this night better.

"This is nice." I said as I read over the menu, "I hope you aren't going to spend a lot of money."

"Don't worry about it. I just wanted to take you out. You don't know how long I've been trying to get you to say yes. I guess all my pushiness paid off." He grinned.

"I guess."

After we ordered drinks and an appetizer, Tyler went off at the mouth. He talked about everything under the sun and I tried to stay focused but I couldn't. I ended up just playing with the ice in my glass as he continued to drone on about himself. I looked at him in the eyes, making sure he thought I was listening but my mind was trying to figure out what I was going to do with my Saturday tomorrow.

"…and then he fell on his ass." Tyler threw his head back and laughed.

I joined in like I knew what was going on but I could have cared less. It was during my hearty, fake laugh that I started to feel weird….off for some reason. The air seemed to get chillier and my body shuddered.

"Are you cold?" Tyler asked.

"No, I'm fine." I answered and I felt my legs get a slight breeze as my napkin fell from my lap.

While I was under the table, searching for my napkin, I saw the red pumps of a woman with slender legs and the Italian loafers of an obviously wealthy man. I would have thought nothing of it if the voice that sounded didn't seep into my bones.

"This will be fine." I heard Justin say from somewhere near me but by that time, his shoes had disappeared from my sight.

I jerked up and slammed my head on the table, causing it to shake a little.

"Damn." I rubbed the spot of my skull where I hit it as I resurfaced.

"Are you okay?" Tyler looked worried.

"Yeah, I'm great." I said through gritted teeth.

"Good. You're kind of clumsy aren't you." He laughed.

"Yes but I've always been that way." I answered, not caring.

I was trying my hardest not to move around to see if it really was Justin I saw or just a mirage but I could tell it was him and if I smelled correctly, he was in the booth right behind me. He smelled of fresh cut grass and a slight hint of tobacco. I know that sounds strange but it was the way he smelled when I met him at the fountain and I almost fell at his feet because it was so enticing.

My breathing increased and I felt some sweat on my brow that I quickly wiped away.

"Is it hot in here?" I whispered to Tyler.

"I thought you were cold a couple of seconds ago?" He said strangely.

"You're right. What were we talking about?"

"I honestly forgot." He thought.

He started talking again but I couldn't have cared less. Tyler's stupid voice was drowned out by Justin's velvet words that seemed to pour from his lips. I almost combusted right there. I couldn't distinguish who he was talking to but there was no mistaking that it was him.

I knew what this was.

This was God punishing me for my sins over the past week. All those lustful thoughts were my downfall and I was being punished…hard.

"I'll be right back." I felt the booth behind me move as Justin got up from his seat. I shifted so that there was no way he would brush me as he walked away.

"I think we should go." I said quickly when Justin ducked out of sight near the door.

"Why? Our food isn't even here yet." Tyler looked around.

"My stomach hurts." I made up a quick excuse.

"Oh, really." He looked kind of bummed out, "I guess we can go out again another night."

Damn.

"Or we can go somewhere else. I don't think I'm in the mood of sushi." I pleaded with him.

"That's okay. I can call someone over and have them cancel our order if you want."

"That would be great."

"But only if you promise to come back here with me. It is my favorite after all."

I was about to make up another excuse when I saw Justin coming back into the dining room. I quickly grabbed the menu off of the table and pretended like I was reading it while peeking over the edge.

He wasn't looking directly at me but that didn't stop his green eyes from penetrating my entire soul. I thought I was going to shoot off into space. I still didn't know the exact color but I had a new found urge to find out and couldn't wait to get back home so I could Google search until the early morning.

He was in a very stylish pair of black pants that fit him as if he were born in them, a light blue shirt that was pressed to perfection and his Italian loafers probably cost more than my tuition. His wrist was adorned with a gleaming silver watch and I noticed that he tried to style his hair tonight. That almost made me laugh because it was done in such a poor way.

The way he walked was mesmerizing and like it was all happening in slow motion, I saw him lift one of his long fingers to his mouth, trying to wipe the corner. I was done. I was either going to murder everyone in this restaurant or strap Justin to my truck to drive him off to my lair.

I hid my face until Justin passed again, sitting down in his seat. His smell washed past me and my eyes rolled back into my head like a nymphomaniac.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Tyler asked, this time with more worry in his voice.

"I'm fine." I put the menu down softly. I probably looked like some crazy person to him but this all seemed normal in my head, "We can stay here if you want." I said partly because I didn't feel coming back out with him but also because I didn't want to leave Justin as stupid as that sounds.

My foot bounced up and down for a couple minutes, without anything to do but sit in this purgatory.

I was less than a couple of inches away from the man I had been fantasizing over for the past week and I couldn't even touch him. I couldn't see him. I couldn't speak to him.

I still remembered what a jerk he was at the fountain but I was sure I could live through that if he just fucked the hell out of my on this table.

"Calm the hell down." I whispered to myself.

"What was that?" Tyler asked after he took a sip of water.

"Nothing. I was just…" I couldn't think of what to say but thankfully, I didn't have to because our food came at that moment.

"Wow, this looks great." I said enthusiastically. I was trying to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Yeah it does." Tyler clapped his hands together.

I had ordered a spicy tuna roll but was slightly disappointed that I had to use chopsticks. I wasn't the best at them but I would make it work.

Tyler and I started eating and he was talking the whole time but Justin's voice was like a foghorn in my head. He was having dinner with some girl named Vienna and I didn't know who she was but apparently, he was mad at her. He was saying things like 'we won't ever have anything together' and 'all we had was sex, nothing more, get that through your head'. This was obviously a breakup dinner for him.

I would have loved to be in her position right now. To just have sex with Justin would have made me fall over and die. I didn't know who this Vienna was but a sudden surge of rage and jealousy filled me. I wanted to spin around and rip her hair out for even sitting with my Justin. I felt like he was mine and mine only.

Oh, no. My possessiveness is coming out over a guy I hardly know.

I thought in my head about how many sins I had racked up in the past hour.

Greed, check.

Wrath, check.

Envy, check.

Lust, double check.

Four out of seven was not a good percentage.

Justin's voice was stern throughout his speeches and I wanted so much to turn around and see what was going on but I couldn't bring myself to move.

"Selena, are you sure you know how to use those?" Tyler asked as I fumbled with my chopsticks and sushi.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm not a pro but I can at least pick things up."

"You look like you're struggling. Do you need help?"

"No, I got it." I replied.

Do you know when you have some occurrence you created that seems to transpire in slow motion? That was what happened next.

My left chopstick slipped, flinging the roll I was holding behind me. I watched with wide eyes as the sushi flipped in the air a couple of times over my head and then disappeared. What the hell kind of physics made it possible for me to do that?

Tyler had went back to eating so he didn't notice but I sure did and holy hell, it landed with a thud on the table behind me.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit!

I didn't move. I didn't breathe and closed my eyes tight.

"Uh…ma'am." I felt a tap on my shoulder and Justin's voice filled my ears, "I think this is yours."

"No it's not." I replied quickly.

"I think it is." Justin said again.

"No it's not. It's not mine." I mumbled and opened my eyes.

Tyler was looking at me like I had grown another head with his tilted sideways. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Justin's long fingers trying to push the sushi roll over the partition that separated the booths.

"It's no problem. I can throw it away if you want." He was being so nice, nothing like the Justin I met at the fountain.

"No, leave me alone."

"Ma'am, I don't mean to be rude but I don't want your sushi so you need to take it back."

"Thank you." I snatched it from him without turning my head, "I think we need to go." I said to Tyler, "My stomach really hurts."

"Okay, let me get a waiter." He called one over but I knew it was too late.

I could feel eyes on me from behind and Justin leaned over the booth, "Selena, is that you?" He asked with what I think was hopefulness in his voice.

I turned my head away "No."

"Really, what's your name?" The smug voice of Justin dick Bieber came back.

"Jessica." It was the first thing I could come up with.

"Oh well, excuse me." He repositioned himself in his booth. I could hear him muttering to himself behind me.

I kept my head almost turned all the way in a 180 position for a couple of seconds just to make sure I was out of the line of fire. When I turned back, I saw not one man but two sitting across from me. One was Tyler and the other, Justin who had a crooked grin that made my panties go damp.

"I knew it was you. You think you can hide from me?" His voice was as smooth as butter and jesting.

Tyler looked incredibly annoyed and confused, "Selena, do you know this guy?"

"Not really." I hung my head, fearing that if I looked Justin in the eyes, I might jump the table.

"I think you should leave." Tyler spoke up but Justin didn't even acknowledge him.

"So Selena, how have you been?" He asked and crossed his arms over the table. He started picking up pieces of bread crumbs in a stealthy but almost neurotic way. It almost made me think of an OCD special I had seen on TV one time.

"Fine, you?" I moved some hair out of my face and sat up straighter, determined not to let him win whatever game he was playing.

"Good. You look very beautiful tonight." His eyes went straight to my chest and then up my neck to my face. I could almost feel his hand along with them.

"Is that a real compliment or are you just trying to get me to sleep with you again?"

"Well…both I guess." He shrugged like it was nothing and poor Tyler just looked at us with his mouth open.

"Don't you have a date to get back to?" I crossed my arms, mirroring him.

"She went to the bathroom." I checked behind me to make sure he wasn't lying and sure enough, she was gone.

"Well you're interrupting mine."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is that what this was?" He mocked me, "I didn't realize."

"Go back to your seat Justin. What are you even doing here?"

"This is Jasper's restaurant. I eat free."

This is getting ridiculous.

Of all the fucking restaurants in this city, I had to sit here in Jasper's. This was God trying to punish me again. I just know it's him.

"It was nice to see you again but if you don't mind, I would like to get back to my date." I pointed to Tyler, "I was having a wonderful time."

"Of course." Justin got up and brushed off his shirt, "It was nice seeing you again Selena." He nodded before going to sit back behind me.

I let out a deep breath and regained my thoughts.

"We really need to go." I said.

"I agree. This is creepy." Tyler asked for the check and it was brought a couple of minutes later.

While he was dealing with paying, I felt a warm hand slip a piece of paper in mine.

"If you ever want to have some fun and not hang around pussies for the rest of your life, give me a call." Justin whispered into my ear.

I secretly flipped the paper over and read it under the table. It was his business card and I quickly stuffed it in my purse.

"You wish." I whispered back harshly.

"That I do." I heard him chuckled, "Don't you want a good fuck?"

Yes!

"No, you're rude and condescending. I can go without."

"Yeah right. You're about to burst."

"Well then maybe I'll ask Tyler for some sexual relief."

I think I heard a growl or a low roar from behind me but as far as I knew, there weren't any animals in here.

"I could help you better than he could." Justin said in a stressed tone. I grinned when I realized that I struck a nerve.

"I'm not so sure about that. You look like you don't have much experience." I smirked at my tactics at winning this war.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of in the bedroom. I can make you feel things that you could only dream about." Justin was so close to my ear, I could feel the moisture from his breath.

Tyler still hadn't noticed since he was haggling with a waiter but I could have given a damn if he did.

"I'll take care of it myself." I whispered back.

"I bet you could and I would love to watch that." His breath was so close to the nape of my neck, I almost felt it inside my skin, "Or I could help."

"I said I don't need your help." I snapped.

"I bet you're so tight and wet right now. Put your finger in your pussy and let me taste."

I had to sit up straighter and cross my legs because his dirty talk was about to do me in.

"I'm going to file a report against you."

"Go ahead, then you'll always wonder what could have been. I can make you feel incredible, Selena."

"I don't need your help." My voice at this point was nothing more than a faint pant.

"You just watch. One of these days, you're going to fall."

"Don't be so sure of it. I don't plan on ever seeing you again."

I got up from my seat and Tyler did the same as we both walked out of the restaurant.

I chanced a small glance back at Justin once we reached the door and found him sitting with Vienna again, a wicked smirk on his perfect lips.

Please God, stop punishing me!

[gethealthy18-blog]

6 Best Lightweight Wheelchairs For Easy Mobility – Reviews And Buying Guide

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6 Best Lightweight Wheelchairs For Easy Mobility – Reviews And Buying Guide

6 Best Lightweight Wheelchairs For Easy Mobility – Reviews And Buying Guide Sakshi Bahal Hyderabd040-395603080 January 30, 2020

A wheelchair is a wheeled mobility device that is propelled manually by turning the wheels with your hands or via various automated systems. This mobility device is used by people who experience difficulty in walking that may result from illness (physical or psychological), injury, or disability.

Wheelchairs are one of the most commonly used mobility assistive devices. They are available in all shapes, sizes, colors, designs, and features to suit the varied needs of the users. Though there are many types of wheelchairs available on the market, it is recommended to opt for a lightweight wheelchair as it is convenient and portable.

In this review article, we will take you through the 6 best lightweight chairs available on the market. The detailed buying guide at the end of the article will help you choose a wheelchair that suits your requirements.

Benefits Of Lightweight WheelChairs

Lightweight wheelchairs offer enhanced mobility and freedom. They are easy to propel and maneuver when compared to the standard wheelchairs. Here are a few advantages of a lightweight wheelchair:

Easy To Maneuver: Lightweight wheelchairs come with large wheels. This means you don’t have to put too much effort to maneuver the wheelchair. You can move around swiftly without putting much strain on your hands.

Easy To Store: Lightweight wheelchairs are collapsible and easy to store. This feature helps you save on your valuable home space. You can fold and tuck away the wheelchair underneath your bed or in the tiniest corner of your home until the next use.

Easy To Carry: Lightweight wheelchairs weigh only around 14 lbs. Thus, they are very easy and light to carry.

Distributes Weight Evenly: Though lightweight wheelchairs weigh less, it doesn’t mean that they can’t support the weight. If you weigh 250 pounds or less, a lightweight wheelchair is a good option to consider. These wheelchairs have a sturdy frame and distribute the user’s weight evenly.

Can Be Used Both Indoor And Outdoor: A lightweight wheelchair can be used both indoor and outdoor. Hence, you need not shift from one wheelchair to another for going out.

Gives You Independence: Unlike the standard bulky wheelchair models that require the assistance of another person or strain your hands, lightweight wheelchairs empower the user to do the work on their own as they are easy to operate.

Here are the 6 best lightweight wheelchairs you can consider buying.

6 Best Lightweight Wheelchairs

1. Drive Medical Lightweight Steel Transport Wheelchair

 The Drive Medical Lightweight Wheelchair has a durable steel frame and provides reliable stability whether it is used independently or with assistance. The weight-bearing capacity of this wheelchair is 250 pounds, which makes it a good option for many people. It offers superior maneuverability in narrow indoor spaces.

This wheelchair comes with cushioned armrests and swing-away footrests that ensure comfort. The chair and backrest fold flat, which makes it easy to transport. Its comfortable seat makes sitting for long hours a comfortable experience, and the nylon upholstery is easy to clean.

Pros

Easy to carry

Lightweight and portable

Offers superior maneuverability

Sleek design

Cons

The folding mechanism is not great.

Buy it here!

2. Medline Lightweight Transport Wheelchair

The Medline Lightweight Transport Wheelchair comes with large 12-inch rear wheels for enhanced performance on uneven outdoor terrain. The loop-style manually operated hand brakes are perfect during transfer. The weight-bearing capacity of this wheelchair is 300 lbs.

This is a foldable lightweight wheelchair that makes it easy to store and carry during travel. The back of this chair folds down to make it more compact. It features full-length permanent armrests, a detachable footrest, a seat belt for safety, and nylon upholstery.

Pros

Breathable nylon upholstery

Large oversized rear wheels

Loop-lock handbrakes

Comfortable wide seat

Cons

The brakes are quite hard.

Buy it here!

3. Drive Medical Blue Streak Wheelchair

Drive Medical’s Blue Streak Wheelchair features cutting-edge design. The premium swing-away legs and detachable desk arms flip backward for advanced versatility and easy transportation of the product. This product is ergonomically crafted for comfort to make independent mobility easy and enjoyable.

The tires are made of solid rubber and are mounted on composite wheels. This guarantees a consistently smooth ride for the user. The push-lock design lends extra safety to this wheelchair. The sleek blue powdered frame is finished with durable steel to prevent cracks and chipping. The nylon upholstery of the chair is easy to clean and low maintenance.

Pros

18-inch padded nylon seat

Detachable desk arms

Push-lock design

Durable

Easy to clean

Cons

Not safe for uneven terrain.

Buy it here!

4. NOVA Lightweight Transport Chair

The NOVA Lightweight Transport Chair is designed to provide easy, lightweight patient transport. This wheelchair is easy to maneuver and fold. The secondary wheel locks and detachable anti-tippers add to the safety of this product. The patented locking hand brakes and the 12-inch rugged rear wheels allow to control the speed and park the brakes.

The wheelchair features an adjustable seat belt and a small storage pouch to keep your keys and cell phone. The padded desk arms are removable and flip-up and make transferring the user from a car, bed, or chair much easier. The footrests can be removed and locked back into place easily. They are easy to adjust and come with heel loops, so the user can rest their feet.

Pros

Flip-up desk arms

Hand brakes

Lightweight aluminum frame

Quick-release fold-down break

Adjustable seat belt

Swing-away footrest

Cons

Weak construction

Buy it here!

5. Sentire Med Forza FCX Deluxe

The Forza FCX can be easily folded, without needing to disassemble. This wheelchair includes  spacious under-the-seat storage, removable seat cushion and backrest, and a flip-up footrest for added comfort. The ergonomic design provides maximum comfort.

This powered wheelchair can be driven in grass, gravel, or snow – the shock absorbers ensure a smooth ride on all terrains. The heavy-duty front casters and forks are made to handle the impact of any surface as well as high weight capacity. This wheelchair is powered with a 250-watt motor. The smart aluminum craft alloy frame matches the footrest and lends this wheelchair a stylish look. It comes with a joystick that is set for right-handed operation.

Pros

Easy storage

Travels light

Ergonomic design

Two powerful motors

Solid tires

Dual lithium batteries

Cons

Not suitable for indoors.

Buy it here!

6. Karman Healthcare S-105 Ergonomic Ultra Lightweight Manual Wheelchair

The Karman S-Ergo 105 Lightweight Wheelchair comes with the unique S-Ergo (intelligent S-shaped ergonomic seating). This wheelchair features a tube in the center footplate that provides better leg support. The foldable backrest and seat make it easy to carry this wheelchair while traveling.

The antibacterial upholstery controls and eliminates odor and unsightly stains. The ergonomic handrim enhances comfort and mobility so that you are able to propel the chair with minimal effort. The wide arm pad offers comfortable support to the elbow and reduces the risk of developing ulcers and scoliosis.

Pros

Ergonomic armrest pad

Antibacterial upholstery

Ergonomic handrim

Cons

Flimsy footrest

Buy it here!

Please make sure that you choose a wheelchair that offers safety and ease of movement. A sturdy wheelchair that supports your weight and features safety mechanisms is a great choice.

You will find a wide variety of wheelchairs available on the market with respect to size, color, features, and design. We have compiled a list of the different types of wheelchairs in the next section.

Types Of Wheelchairs

Manual Wheelchairs: This is the traditional design for wheelchairs and is propelled by the upper body strength of the user as they move the chair forward or backward.

Power Wheelchairs: A few people do not possess the strength to propel the wheelchair manually. A powered wheelchair is an ideal choice for them as it runs on battery and is controlled by simple switches and a joystick installed in the armrests of the wheelchair.

Attendant Propelled Wheelchairs: This wheelchair is propelled by an attendant using a handle. The wheels are small and rimless. These wheelchairs are mostly used as transfer chairs in hospitals or airports to help move a mobility-impaired person.

Ridge Frame Wheelchair: A ridge frame wheelchair weighs somewhere around 13 pounds and is constructed as a one-piece frame that cannot be folded. Though this is not foldable, it is more compact and lightweight than other foldable options.

Lightweight Ergonomic Wheelchairs: Lightweight wheelchairs are ideal for those who spend more time in a wheelchair. Their ergonomic design lends more comfort while sitting for long periods. The lightweight construction allows for improved range of motion and greater independence.

All-Terrain Wheelchairs: An all-terrain wheelchair is a perfect choice for people who travel in different terrain types. This wheelchair gives you the confidence to traverse multiple terrains without worrying about the risk of getting stuck or losing control.

Sports Wheelchairs: Sports wheelchairs are used in different athletic settings and to play various sports at any level. These wheelchairs are stronger, faster, and more maneuverable.

High-Back Reclining Wheelchairs: If you are looking for upper body support and don’t want to shift to a different piece of furniture for support, a high-back reclining wheelchair can help you. You can recline back in the wheelchair and get that upper body support that your body craves for after sitting for long hours.

Pediatric Wheelchairs: Pediatric wheelchairs are designed to accommodate children who need mobility assistance. These wheelchairs are available in fun colors and patterns.

Bariatric Wheelchairs:Bariatric wheelchairs are designed to accommodate heavier and larger users. These wheelchairs are designed while keeping the needs of bariatric users in mind. The weight-bearing capacity of these chairs is more. The wider seats and armrests accommodate the needs of the users.

Here’s a buying guide with a list of a few factors you need to consider to choose an appropriate lightweight wheelchair:

Buying Guide – How To Choose An Appropriate Lightweight Wheelchair

Weight-bearing Capacity

When buying a wheelchair, make sure you select one according to your body weight. This is very important for the safety of the user. For people with large and heavier bodies, a bariatric wheelchair is a good choice. On the other hand, small or pediatric users should use wheelchairs designed according to their needs.

A lightweight chair allows for great mobility and independence of the user. One more factor that adds to the brownie points for lightweight wheelchairs is the foldability. Go for foldable options as they are portable and easy to store and carry while traveling.

This is one of the most important considerations that you need to bear in mind while purchasing a wheelchair. Do you want a manual wheelchair or a motorized one? This has more references than just being about the user’s preference. Sometimes, the users do not possess sufficient arm strength to propel the wheelchair, and for such people, a powered wheelchair is an ideal choice.

Before buying a wheelchair, think whether you are going to use it as your primary or supplementary form of mobility assistance. If you require a wheelchair for supplementary support, you can opt for a lightweight, portable, and economical chair. If you need a wheelchair post-surgery for recovery, you may like to consider a stand-up wheelchair. These wheelchairs, apart from providing the basic functions of a wheelchair, also provide standing support for easy ups and downs. For someone totally dependent on wheelchairs for mobility, choosing one with an ergonomic design will be ideal for adequate support and comfort.

Different designs of wheelchairs, depending on the varied support and positioning needs of the users, are available. Make sure you choose one that fits your requirements. If you are someone looking for upper body support, go for a high-back reclining wheelchair. Those who like to traverse multiple terrains should opt for all-terrain wheelchairs.

The purpose for which you are buying the wheelchair is also an important consideration. If you want a wheelchair to get in and out of the pool or go to the beach, choose one that has been specifically designed for these purposes. Similarly, transport wheelchairs and aisle wheelchairs are purpose-driven. They are designed for specific settings and functions and help to move patients over short distances in more commercial settings.

Unlike big and bulky wheelchairs, lightweight wheelchairs are a great choice for simple and quick transportation. They offer ease of movement and make the user more independent. We hope that our list of best lightweight wheelchairs will help you find the right product – one that fits your needs and requirements.

Expert’s Answers For Readers’ Questions

What is the fastest speed for motorized wheelchairs?

A motorized wheelchair features a maximum speed of 4 mph.

How much does a lightweight wheelchair cost?

On average, a lightweight wheelchair would cost somewhere between $150-$3500.

How much does a wheelchair weigh?

The weight of the wheelchair varies depending on the model and design. Here’s how much different wheelchairs weigh, depending on the purpose and design:

Types Of Wheelchairs Weight Transport Wheelchairs 15-30 pounds Manual Wheelchairs 35-40 pounds Lightweight Wheelchairs 15-35 pounds Bariatric Wheelchairs 40-60 pounds Power Wheelchairs 50-250 pounds

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Sakshi Bahal

Sakshi Bahal has a Masters degree in English Literature from Calcutta University. She was a part of the editorial team of her school magazine. Her love for writing inspired her to take up literature and follow that up with creative writing after completing her education. She has been writing on beauty and skin care for the past 4 years.Sakshi has also authored a compilation of high school essays. A self-declared bookworm, she enjoys traveling, music, movies, and lots of coffee.

Source: https://www.stylecraze.com/articles/best-lightweight-wheelchair/

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The best gear for event photographers

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The best gear for event photographers

We love these pieces of gear when we are covering summertime events. (Jeanette D. Moses/)

Summertime is here and that means that photographers who specialize in event coverage schedules are starting to fill up. The coming months will be filled with graduations, weddings, music festivals, parades, sporting events, and every other kind of photogenic event you can imagine.

While shooting in the summer has its benefits, it’s not always a picnic. All that sunshine will provide some awesome contrast for your photographs, but it also means long hours outside on your feet lugging large amounts of gear. Although a solid camera body and a few good lenses are obvious must-haves for covering summer events, there are a number of other accessories that will make photographing events a seamless experience.

This comfortable and classy strap allows you to carry two cameras at a time. (Holdfast/)

A comfy camera strap is key for a long day of shooting and the HoldFast MoneyMaker is one of our favorites. This classy leather strap come in a variety of finishes and the company recently started making a vegan-friendly version out of cotton canvas. The original MoneyMaker fits on your body like a vest and allows you to comfortably carry two cameras at once—a must have shooters that like to quickly have a 24-70 and a 70-200 at their disposal, or don’t want to risk changing lenses in the midst of a shoot.

The company recently released a new version of the MoneyMaker designed to carry a single camera. The Money Maker Solo is a cross body strap with a stabilizer connector that clips under your armpit and a belt anchor that keeps the strap and your camera body from sliding around to much during a shoot. The straps also feature d-rings for securing additional accessories to the strap that you might need access to during the day.

This pocket-sized light is a lifesaver when shooting at nighttime events. (Lume Cube/)

Lighting conditions during an event can be unpredictable and cranking your ISO can’t always solve the problem, even with a high-end camera. Having a small light available to shine on a subject can make a huge difference in the quality of the final images. Lume Cube is a powerful pocket-sized LED light that you can control with your phone. The light has a 5700K daylight balanced color temperature, a 60-degree beam angle, and is waterproof up to 30 feet. There are also a ton of miniature modifiers available for the lights like barndoors, snoots, colored gels, and grids that can be used to shape the light.

These pouches from Peak Design are excellent for keeping extra lenses and other accessories within arms reach during a shoot. (Peak Design/)

The Peak Design pouches come to two styles and we’ve found both to be game changers for events.

The smaller pouch has a low-profile design that attaches to your belt loop and makes it easy to access a second lens or a speedlight while you are shooting.

The pouches come in three different sizes, and employ folding pads that allow you to stack multiple pieces of equipment in a single pouch, without them clanging together.

The larger field pouch is like an advanced fanny pack or a tiny sling bag that’s great for stashing extra batteries, SD cards, or your lenses. It has a roll-top design which makes it easy to expand its capacity. The bag is made of weatherproof nylon canvas and comes in four different colors.

These cards are great when shooting in heat, rain, or dust. (Sony/)

Outdoor concerts, sporting events, parades, and festivals can make for great photo opportunities, but the conditions can be brutal. These locations are often hot, dusty, and, can turn into a sloppy wet mess during summer rainstorms. In times like that you definitely don’t want to lose the precious data on your memory cards.

Sony’s Tough cards are dustproof and waterproof and have a design that eliminates the finicky lock switch and fragile plastic ribs over the connectors. This all means they are way less likely to break off inside your camera or become damaged once you remove them.

An SD card case will help keep your precious memory cards safe after a shoot. (Pelican/)

Even if you are shooting with a Tough Card storing them in some kind of housing is a better bet then shoving them in a pocket or letting them float around loose in your bag. This metal Pelican case holds up to 12 SD cards and has a shockproof and waterproof design. It’s also a great way to keep your clean cards and your full cards separate from one another so you can grab one in a hurry.

This battery holder can store eight batteries, so you will always have a backup set for your speedlite. (Think Tank/)

A speedlite won’t do you much good with dead batteries. And often there isn’t the option to run to the corner store and pick up a fresh set in the midst of an event shoot. This compact battery holder from Think Tank will keep a set of 8 AA organized inside your bag and makes them easier to access than ripping into a fresh pack. The battery holder stores eight. Keep the nub facing up on the fresh ones and put the dead ones back in with the flat side showing so you’ll always know which cells still have juice without having to try them out.

Mophie Power Packs can be a lifesafer for keeping in touch with clients and assistants during a long shoot. (Mophie/)

A fully charged phone battery dies quickly during a fast-paced event. Mophie’s power packs are a great way to keep your smartphone juiced throughout the day. Mophie’s integrated portable batteries work with a variety of smartphones and other USB-C rechargeable devices. They recently released a small pocket-sized version called the Powerstation Keychain that clips onto a set of keys or a belt loop and is compatible with any device that takes USB-C cables. Even if you don’t use them to charge your camera, it could keep your phone running during the day to help you communicate with clients or assistants.

This little SSD drive is fast enough that you can edit directly from it. (Sony/)

When it comes to editing and file transfer, faster is better, and this tiny Sony drive is big on speed. The external SSD has read speeds up to 540MB/s and write speeds up to 520MB/s. The drive is roughly the side of a credit card, weighs 1.8 oz, and has a wave surface so it is easy to find in a bag. The drive comes in 240GB, 480GB and 960GB capacities. It’s a great way to quickly transfer files off a card at the end of a shoot or do a backup. Because the drive reads and writes so quickly, you can edit directly off of it without the bottleneck of a spinning hard drive slowing you down.

You should never leave home without your gaff tape. (Gaffer Power/)

We can’t get enough of gaff tape. It’s that seemingly magical product that can fix a number of problems quickly: taping up camera logos, fixing a broken strap, a substitute band-aid—the list goes on and on. It’s versatile and incredibly strong, it also won’t leave that gross sticky residue like duct tape. We like these mini rolls because they are easy to slide into an accessory bag or a pocket.

Written By Jeanette D. Moses

[mealha]

The best gear for event photographers

We love these pieces of gear when we are covering summertime events. (Jeanette D. Moses/)

Summertime is here and that means that photographers who specialize in event coverage schedules are starting to fill up. The coming months will be filled with graduations, weddings, music festivals, parades, sporting events, and every other kind of photogenic event you can imagine.

While shooting in the summer has its benefits, it’s not always a picnic. All that sunshine will provide some awesome contrast for your photographs, but it also means long hours outside on your feet lugging large amounts of gear. Although a solid camera body and a few good lenses are obvious must-haves for covering summer events, there are a number of other accessories that will make photographing events a seamless experience.

This comfortable and classy strap allows you to carry two cameras at a time. (Holdfast/)

A comfy camera strap is key for a long day of shooting and the HoldFast MoneyMaker is one of our favorites. This classy leather strap come in a variety of finishes and the company recently started making a vegan-friendly version out of cotton canvas. The original MoneyMaker fits on your body like a vest and allows you to comfortably carry two cameras at once—a must have shooters that like to quickly have a 24-70 and a 70-200 at their disposal, or don't want to risk changing lenses in the midst of a shoot.

The company recently released a new version of the MoneyMaker designed to carry a single camera. The Money Maker Solo is a cross body strap with a stabilizer connector that clips under your armpit and a belt anchor that keeps the strap and your camera body from sliding around to much during a shoot. The straps also feature d-rings for securing additional accessories to the strap that you might need access to during the day.

This pocket-sized light is a lifesaver when shooting at nighttime events. (Lume Cube/)

Lighting conditions during an event can be unpredictable and cranking your ISO can't always solve the problem, even with a high-end camera. Having a small light available to shine on a subject can make a huge difference in the quality of the final images. Lume Cube is a powerful pocket-sized LED light that you can control with your phone. The light has a 5700K daylight balanced color temperature, a 60-degree beam angle, and is waterproof up to 30 feet. There are also a ton of miniature modifiers available for the lights like barndoors, snoots, colored gels, and grids that can be used to shape the light.

These pouches from Peak Design are excellent for keeping extra lenses and other accessories within arms reach during a shoot. (Peak Design/)

The Peak Design pouches come to two styles and we've found both to be game changers for events.

The smaller pouch has a low-profile design that attaches to your belt loop and makes it easy to access a second lens or a speedlight while you are shooting.

The pouches come in three different sizes, and employ folding pads that allow you to stack multiple pieces of equipment in a single pouch, without them clanging together.

The larger field pouch is like an advanced fanny pack or a tiny sling bag that’s great for stashing extra batteries, SD cards, or your lenses. It has a roll-top design which makes it easy to expand its capacity. The bag is made of weatherproof nylon canvas and comes in four different colors.

RELATED: Compact camera bags that we love**

These cards are great when shooting in heat, rain, or dust. (Sony/)

Outdoor concerts, sporting events, parades, and festivals can make for great photo opportunities, but the conditions can be brutal. These locations are often hot, dusty, and, can turn into a sloppy wet mess during summer rainstorms. In times like that you definitely don’t want to lose the precious data on your memory cards.

Sony's Tough cards are dustproof and waterproof and have a design that eliminates the finicky lock switch and fragile plastic ribs over the connectors. This all means they are way less likely to break off inside your camera or become damaged once you remove them.

An SD card case will help keep your precious memory cards safe after a shoot. (Pelican/)

Even if you are shooting with a Tough Card storing them in some kind of housing is a better bet then shoving them in a pocket or letting them float around loose in your bag. This metal Pelican case holds up to 12 SD cards and has a shockproof and waterproof design. It's also a great way to keep your clean cards and your full cards separate from one another so you can grab one in a hurry.

This battery holder can store eight batteries, so you will always have a backup set for your speedlite. (Think Tank/)

A speedlite won't do you much good with dead batteries. And often there isn't the option to run to the corner store and pick up a fresh set in the midst of an event shoot. This compact battery holder from Think Tank will keep a set of 8 AA organized inside your bag and makes them easier to access than ripping into a fresh pack. The battery holder stores eight. Keep the nub facing up on the fresh ones and put the dead ones back in with the flat side showing so you'll always know which cells still have juice without having to try them out.

Mophie Power Packs can be a lifesafer for keeping in touch with clients and assistants during a long shoot. (Mophie/)

A fully charged phone battery dies quickly during a fast-paced event. Mophie's power packs are a great way to keep your smartphone juiced throughout the day. Mophie's integrated portable batteries work with a variety of smartphones and other USB-C rechargeable devices. They recently released a small pocket-sized version called the Powerstation Keychain that clips onto a set of keys or a belt loop and is compatible with any device that takes USB-C cables. Even if you don't use them to charge your camera, it could keep your phone running during the day to help you communicate with clients or assistants.

This little SSD drive is fast enough that you can edit directly from it. (Sony/)

When it comes to editing and file transfer, faster is better, and this tiny Sony drive is big on speed. The external SSD has read speeds up to 540MB/s and write speeds up to 520MB/s. The drive is roughly the side of a credit card, weighs 1.8 oz, and has a wave surface so it is easy to find in a bag. The drive comes in 240GB, 480GB and 960GB capacities. It's a great way to quickly transfer files off a card at the end of a shoot or do a backup. Because the drive reads and writes so quickly, you can edit directly off of it without the bottleneck of a spinning hard drive slowing you down.

You should never leave home without your gaff tape. (Gaffer Power/)

We can't get enough of gaff tape. It's that seemingly magical product that can fix a number of problems quickly: taping up camera logos, fixing a broken strap, a substitute band-aid—the list goes on and on. It's versatile and incredibly strong, it also won't leave that gross sticky residue like duct tape. We like these mini rolls because they are easy to slide into an accessory bag or a pocket.

from Popular Photography | RSS http://bit.ly/2wLAmpn

[nancygduarteus]

A Narcotics Officer Ends His War on Drugs

HAGERSTOWN, Md.—Kevin Simmers relished locking up drug users, no matter how little crack they had on them. “If they just had a pipe—fine,” he said. “At the end of the night, I wanted to have an arrest. I wanted a body.”

Decades later, despite his efforts, the opioid epidemic was in full swing in Hagerstown, “a small town with big-city problems” an hour outside Baltimore. In 2013, Simmers received an unusual phone call from his 18-year-old daughter, Brooke, who was typically defensive of her independence: “I need your help, Dad.” Simmers braced himself and met her for breakfast at a Waffle House near the so-called heroin highway, an intersection of interstates that connects major drug markets up and down the East Coast. Brooke told Simmers that she was addicted to opioid pain pills and didn’t know how to stop. Familiar with their street price, Simmers asked how Brooke, with no obvious income, could afford the expensive pills. “She told me she was selling her body,” he recalled.

Simmers sprung into action, and over the next year he helped Brooke into a half-dozen rehabs, but none seemed to work. Eventually, out of options and fearing a fatal overdose, Simmers used his police connections to jail his own daughter. But the disaster that followed made him reconsider not just his decision to lock up Brooke, but also his role as a willing combatant in the decades-long War on Drugs.

“I now think the whole drug war is total bullshit,” he said.

“Drugs are menacing our society,” intoned President Ronald Reagan in a 1986 televised address. “They’re killing our children.” Fresh out of the Air Force, Kevin Simmers was driving a milk truck. Reagan was “an inspiring speaker,” Simmer said, so he decided to apply to become a Hagerstown police officer.

Tall, opinionated, irreverent, and fiercely competitive, Simmers was “larger than life,” said Nick Varner, a Hagerstown police detective who trained under him. His policing philosophy was simple, Varner said: “Lock up the problem.” Sergeant Simmers liked contests: Whoever brings in the most arrests tonight gets free dinner.

Simmers (second from right) joined the Hagerstown police in the late 1980s. (Courtesy of the Simmers family)

In Clear Spring, Maryland, a Hagerstown suburb and a real-life Norman Rockwell painting, Varner shot hoops with Simmers and Brooke. A gifted athlete, “she wiped the floor with both of us,” Varner recalled. Brooke had no problem swimming the formidable Potomac River clear to its West Virginia bank. “Kevin was very strong willed,” Varner said, and “she was a lot like him.” Varner remembered how Brooke once walked into the church where he was a pastor and said, “Do you really think that Jesus could walk on water?”

“If there was a tenth gear, she was in it,” said Brooke’s mother, Angie von Gersdorff. “She needed that extra adrenaline rush.” Von Gersdorff and Simmers split up when Brooke was a baby. Within a few years, they both remarried. Von Gersdorff said Brooke’s antics overlaid a darker struggle already underway. “She began to fester in puberty,” she said.

Clear Spring, Maryland (Jeremy Raff)

Brooke was given to angry outbursts that worsened as high school began. Finally, in a heated argument, she punched her stepmother, Dana Simmers, in the face—hard, leaving bruises. The Simmers and von Gersdorff got together to decide what to do. “She’s going to have to learn a lesson. We’re going to report it,” von Gersdorff remembers the group deciding. “Tough love.” They called the police and Brooke landed in juvenile detention. But von Gersdorff now regrets feeding her daughter to the justice system at such a young age. “I really thought that it was going to help, but it did not. It did the complete and utter opposite,” von Gersdorff told me. “It’s a huge guilt that makes me so angry. I can’t hit something hard enough to get any relief.” In the years after juvenile detention, Brooke starting hanging out with a rougher crowd and eventually got hooked on pills.

[Read: No family is safe from this epidemic.]

Brooke was addicted to opioid pain pills by age 18. (Courtesy of the Simmers family)

After she told Simmers about her addiction, the unsuccessful rehab attempts grinded the family’s patience and finances. Simmers said waiting lists often stymied their attempts to get help—by the time a spot opened up, Brooke was out on the street again. Then, when she was accepted, she did not receive medication-assisted treatment, which much of the medical literature describes as the gold standard of care. Such treatment combines therapy with low-dose opioids like buprenorphine to help control cravings, but it is still often stigmatized as a way of replacing one addiction with another. Brooke’s rehabs embraced a strict prohibition on medication of any kind—one even kicked her out when staff discovered ibuprofen in her luggage. Abstinence-based drug treatment is astonishingly ineffective but deeply entrenched in the United States. Leading public-health organizations including the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the National Institute on Drug Abuse, and the World Health Organization all recommend medication-assisted treatment, but only about 12 percent of people with a substance-use disorder receive specialty treatment.

After another relapse, Brooke was living in a Motel 6 next to the highway. Afraid for her life, the family turned to the institution they knew best: law enforcement. Simmers called friends in the Hagerstown police who had previously turned a blind eye to Brooke’s drug use—“professional courtesy,” Simmers called it— and asked them to throw the book at her. She was arrested and sentenced to four months in jail.

Brooke arrived at the Washington County Detention Center with some fanfare. “It was like fresh meat,” said Amanda West, her cell mate. “You could just hear whispers down the hallway, ‘It’s Brooke Simmers, it’s Brooke Simmers, it’s Brooke Simmers!’” Having arrested some of the inmates himself, Sergeant Simmers was well known inside the detention center.

Even when Brooke was dope sick, she kept the pod entertained. Like her dad with his officers, she goaded inmates into contests: Who could brush their teeth the fastest? Who could design the best jailhouse outfit? Brooke tie-dyed an oversized -shirt with Hawaiian Punch and crushed-up colored pencils and declared herself the winner.

A drug-treatment class at the Washington County Detention Center (Jeremy Raff)

When West was suffering severe heroin withdrawal, Brooke “put socks on my hands so I wouldn’t scratch my face,” she recalled. West remembered Brooke returning to the cellblock in tears after visits from her father, crushed by guilt. “She wanted her dad to be proud of her,” West told me, “but she felt like he could not separate her from his law-enforcement life. It was insulting to him that he had a child that was committing the same sins of the people that he had incarcerated.”

West had been sober for about a year when we met. She told me that she had also tried to convince her parents—a banker and a Christian schoolteacher—that her addiction was not meant to hurt them. As if to prove her point, she rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan to reveal thick, glassy scars blanketing her forearms. She explained that in a fit of desperation she’d used “krokodil,” a synthetic heroin substitute from Russia made with a toxic swirl of chemicals and gasoline. Her skin had bubbled, swollen, and turned black. Now it looked like skin grafts after a severe burn. “I almost lost both my arms,” she said. “Who wants to do this?”

Severe scarring from “krocodil,” a synthetic heroin substitute made with gasoline (Jeremy Raff)

Brooke was released on April 4, 2015. Redoubling her commitment to sobriety, she attended abstinence-based Narcotics Anonymous meetings. Overdose deaths exceeded 72,000 in 2017, but fewer than half of drug-treatment programs provide low-dose opioids to treat cravings, though they can cut the risk of an overdose death in half. After being clean for four months in jail, Brooke was in an exceptionally precarious position on the outside. The risk of an overdose death is 129 times higher in the two weeks after being released from jail, a 2007 study found.

Simmers feared Brooke would relapse, so at night he parked his police cruiser close behind her car to prevent her from sneaking out of the house.

Just nine days after Brooke’s release, Simmers awoke to tire tracks through the front yard��Brooke had apparently maneuvered around his car. Hours later, Dana Simmers received a call from Brooke’s friend Alison Shumaker, who told her she had spoken to Brooke in the predawn hours. Shumaker, who was trying to quit heroin herself, said that Brooke had relapsed and, full of self-loathing, had told her, “I’m a piece of shit.” In a recent interview, Shumaker recalled that Brooke feared her father’s response, and told Shumaker, “I can’t go home. He’s going to be so disappointed.” Eventually, the line went silent.

“She might have died talking on the phone with me,” Shumaker said. The possibility that faster action may have saved Brooke’s life haunts Shumaker, but her inaction is not unique. Research suggests that after decades of Simmers-style drug policing, the most important reason drug users don’t seek timely medical help is the fear of prosecution.

“You can love someone to death,” Simmers said. (Jeremy Raff)

The next day, a search party finally found Brooke’s red Volkswagen Beetle in a church parking lot. Detective Varner arrived on the scene to find Brooke lying in her own vomit in the back seat, a sweatshirt rolled up like a pillow under her head and a basketball near her feet. Parked beneath a hoop where she had once practiced layups, Brooke died of a heroin overdose on April 14, 2015.

More than three years later, the pain has hardly abated. Carefully out of sight behind the Christmas decorations in the basement, Dana Simmers, Brooke’s stepmother, preserves clothing that still carries Brooke’s scent. In a glass case in her living room, von Gersdorff keeps a lock of her daughter’s hair she snipped off at the funeral home.

In his home office, lined with old badges and a black-and-white police-recruit photo, Simmers is still mulling over what went wrong. After decades of locking up low-level drug dealers and users, including his own daughter, Simmers said he realized that “we’ve tried to incarcerate our way out of a lot of problems in this country and it has not worked.”

“Maybe if she wouldn't have went away for that four months, she wouldn’t have overdosed and died,” he said. Though he can’t point to a single cause, he said he feels “guilty everyday.” Simmers told me that Brooke’s death, and the powerlessness he felt while repeatedly failing to find effective drug treatment for her, fundamentally changed his mind.

Brooke’s obituary (Courtesy of the Simmers family)

“Twenty years ago, most people thought arrest and incarceration were the answer to this drug war,” he said. “I think most people were wrong—I think I was wrong.” Now Simmers says he’d rather see the roughly $47,000 a year it takes to jail drug offenders spent on jobs programs instead. He’d like to see 24-hour, on-demand treatment available to anyone who wants it—no waiting lists. The former narcotics officer is even open to the idea of decriminalizing heroin.

Simmers also now detects a racial injustice in the harsh punishment he once meted out. His own crack-era targets mostly went unnoticed, but the details of Brooke’s life and death were covered heavily in the local media and elicited a wave of sympathy from police officers and elected officials. “This problem was happening in the African American community for years and we did nothing about it,” Simmers said. But Brooke was “a pretty white girl who lives in the suburbs, lives in middle-class America. I think that could be why people were more attracted to the story.”

Simmers said that when Brooke was sober, she told him that she hoped to open a sober-living house for women. They struck a deal: One year sober, and he’d help her make it a reality. She overdosed before she made it to a year, but Simmers decided to go ahead with the plan anyway. Soon after her death, he and Dana began fund-raising, and a friend donated a leafy patch of land outside Hagerstown. Volunteer construction crews are at work on a 16-bed living facility and treatment center.

Simmers and Brooke (Courtesy of the Simmers family)

On a brisk morning last May, about 100 supporters—grieving parents, people recovering from addiction, police officers—gathered for the ground-breaking ceremony. “I don’t think anybody wants to build a house in memory of their daughter,” Simmers told the crowd, “but this was her dream and we’re going to do our best to fulfill her dream.” Brooke’s House is slated to open early next year.

from Health News And Updates https://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2018/11/narcotics-cop-loses-his-daughter-heroin-overdose/575425/?utm_source=feed

[ionecoffman]

A Narcotics Officer Ends His War on Drugs

HAGERSTOWN, Md.—Kevin Simmers relished locking up drug users, no matter how little crack they had on them. “If they just had a pipe—fine,” he said. “At the end of the night, I wanted to have an arrest. I wanted a body.”

Decades later, despite his efforts, the opioid epidemic was in full swing in Hagerstown, “a small town with big-city problems” an hour outside Baltimore. In 2013, Simmers received an unusual phone call from his 18-year-old daughter, Brooke, who was typically defensive of her independence: “I need your help, Dad.” Simmers braced himself and met her for breakfast at a Waffle House near the so-called heroin highway, an intersection of interstates that connects major drug markets up and down the East Coast. Brooke told Simmers that she was addicted to opioid pain pills and didn’t know how to stop. Familiar with their street price, Simmers asked how Brooke, with no obvious income, could afford the expensive pills. “She told me she was selling her body,” he recalled.

Simmers sprung into action, and over the next year he helped Brooke into a half-dozen rehabs, but none seemed to work. Eventually, out of options and fearing a fatal overdose, Simmers used his police connections to jail his own daughter. But the disaster that followed made him reconsider not just his decision to lock up Brooke, but also his role as a willing combatant in the decades-long War on Drugs.

“I now think the whole drug war is total bullshit,” he said.

“Drugs are menacing our society,” intoned President Ronald Reagan in a 1986 televised address. “They’re killing our children.” Fresh out of the Air Force, Kevin Simmers was driving a milk truck. Reagan was “an inspiring speaker,” Simmer said, so he decided to apply to become a Hagerstown police officer.

Tall, opinionated, irreverent, and fiercely competitive, Simmers was “larger than life,” said Nick Varner, a Hagerstown police detective who trained under him. His policing philosophy was simple, Varner said: “Lock up the problem.” Sergeant Simmers liked contests: Whoever brings in the most arrests tonight gets free dinner.

Simmers (second from right) joined the Hagerstown police in the late 1980s. (Courtesy of the Simmers family)

In Clear Spring, Maryland, a Hagerstown suburb and a real-life Norman Rockwell painting, Varner shot hoops with Simmers and Brooke. A gifted athlete, “she wiped the floor with both of us,” Varner recalled. Brooke had no problem swimming the formidable Potomac River clear to its West Virginia bank. “Kevin was very strong willed,” Varner said, and “she was a lot like him.” Varner remembered how Brooke once walked into the church where he was a pastor and said, “Do you really think that Jesus could walk on water?”

“If there was a tenth gear, she was in it,” said Brooke’s mother, Angie von Gersdorff. “She needed that extra adrenaline rush.” Von Gersdorff and Simmers split up when Brooke was a baby. Within a few years, they both remarried. Von Gersdorff said Brooke’s antics overlaid a darker struggle already underway. “She began to fester in puberty,” she said.

Clear Spring, Maryland (Jeremy Raff)

Brooke was given to angry outbursts that worsened as high school began. Finally, in a heated argument, she punched her stepmother, Dana Simmers, in the face—hard, leaving bruises. The Simmers and von Gersdorff got together to decide what to do. “She’s going to have to learn a lesson. We’re going to report it,” von Gersdorff remembers the group deciding. “Tough love.” They called the police and Brooke landed in juvenile detention. But von Gersdorff now regrets feeding her daughter to the justice system at such a young age. “I really thought that it was going to help, but it did not. It did the complete and utter opposite,” von Gersdorff told me. “It’s a huge guilt that makes me so angry. I can’t hit something hard enough to get any relief.” In the years after juvenile detention, Brooke starting hanging out with a rougher crowd and eventually got hooked on pills.

[Read: No family is safe from this epidemic.]

Brooke was addicted to opioid pain pills by age 18. (Courtesy of the Simmers family)

After she told Simmers about her addiction, the unsuccessful rehab attempts grinded the family’s patience and finances. Simmers said waiting lists often stymied their attempts to get help—by the time a spot opened up, Brooke was out on the street again. Then, when she was accepted, she did not receive medication-assisted treatment, which much of the medical literature describes as the gold standard of care. Such treatment combines therapy with low-dose opioids like buprenorphine to help control cravings, but it is still often stigmatized as a way of replacing one addiction for another. Brooke’s rehabs embraced a strict prohibition on medication of any kind—one even kicked her out when staff discovered ibuprofen in her luggage. Abstinence-based drug treatment is astonishingly ineffective but deeply entrenched in the United States. Leading public-health organizations including the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the National Institute on Drug Abuse, and the World Health Organization all recommend medication-assisted treatment, but only about 12 percent of people with a substance-use disorder receive specialty treatment.

After another relapse, Brooke was living in a Motel 6 next to the highway. Afraid for her life, the family turned to the institution they knew best: law enforcement. Simmers called friends in the Hagerstown police who had previously turned a blind eye to Brooke’s drug use—“professional courtesy,” Simmers called it— and asked them to throw the book at her. She was arrested and sentenced to four months in jail.

Brooke arrived at the Washington County Detention Center with some fanfare. “It was like fresh meat,” said Amanda West, her cell mate. “You could just hear whispers down the hallway, ‘It’s Brooke Simmers, it’s Brooke Simmers, it’s Brooke Simmers!’” Having arrested some of the inmates himself, Sergeant Simmers was well known inside the detention center.

Even when Brooke was dope sick, she kept the pod entertained. Like her dad with his officers, she goaded inmates into contests: Who could brush their teeth the fastest? Who could design the best jailhouse outfit? Brooke tie-dyed an oversized -shirt with Hawaiian Punch and crushed-up colored pencils and declared herself the winner.

A drug-treatment class at the Washington County Detention Center (Jeremy Raff)

When West was suffering severe heroin withdrawal, Brooke “put socks on my hands so I wouldn’t scratch my face,” she recalled. West remembered Brooke returning to the cellblock in tears after visits from her father, crushed by guilt. “She wanted her dad to be proud of her,” West told me, “but she felt like he could not separate her from his law-enforcement life. It was insulting to him that he had a child that was committing the same sins of the people that he had incarcerated.”

West had been sober for about a year when we met. She told me that she had also tried to convince her parents—a banker and a Christian schoolteacher—that her addiction was not meant to hurt them. As if to prove her point, she rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan to reveal thick, glassy scars blanketing her forearms. She explained that in a fit of desperation she’d used “krokodil,” a synthetic heroin substitute from Russia made with a toxic swirl of chemicals and gasoline. Her skin had bubbled, swollen, and turned black. Now it looked like skin grafts after a severe burn. “I almost lost both my arms,” she said. “Who wants to do this?”

Severe scarring from “krocodil,” a synthetic heroin substitute made with gasoline (Jeremy Raff)

Brooke was released on April 4, 2015. Redoubling her commitment to sobriety, she attended abstinence-based Narcotics Anonymous meetings. Overdose deaths exceeded 72,000 in 2017, but fewer than half of drug-treatment programs provide low-dose opioids to treat cravings, though they can cut the risk of an overdose death in half. After being clean for four months in jail, Brooke was in an exceptionally precarious position on the outside. The risk of an overdose death is 129 times higher in the two weeks after being released from jail, a 2007 study found.

Simmers feared Brooke would relapse, so at night he parked his police cruiser close behind her car to prevent her from sneaking out of the house.

Just nine days after Brooke’s release, Simmers awoke to tire tracks through the front yard—Brooke had apparently maneuvered around his car. Hours later, Dana Simmers received a call from Brooke’s friend Alison Shumaker, who told her she had spoken to Brooke in the predawn hours. Shumaker, who was trying to quit heroin herself, said that Brooke had relapsed and, full of self-loathing, had told her, “I’m a piece of shit.” In a recent interview, Shumaker recalled that Brooke feared her father’s response, and told Shumaker, “I can’t go home. He’s going to be so disappointed.” Eventually, the line went silent.

“She might have died talking on the phone with me,” Shumaker said. The possibility that faster action may have saved Brooke’s life haunts Shumaker, but her inaction is not unique. Research suggests that after decades of Simmers-style drug policing, the most important reason drug users don’t seek timely medical help is the fear of prosecution.

“You can love someone to death,” Simmers said. (Jeremy Raff)

The next day, a search party finally found Brooke’s red Volkswagen Beetle in a church parking lot. Detective Varner arrived on the scene to find Brooke lying in her own vomit in the back seat, a sweatshirt rolled up like a pillow under her head and a basketball near her feet. Parked beneath a hoop where she had once practiced layups, Brooke died of a heroin overdose on April 14, 2015.

More than three years later, the pain has hardly abated. Carefully out of sight behind the Christmas decorations in the basement, Dana Simmers, Brooke’s stepmother, preserves clothing that still carries Brooke’s scent. In a glass case in her living room, von Gersdorff keeps a lock of her daughter’s hair she snipped off at the funeral home.

In his home office, lined with old badges and a black-and-white police-recruit photo, Simmers is still mulling over what went wrong. After decades of locking up low-level drug dealers and users, including his own daughter, Simmers said he realized that “we’ve tried to incarcerate our way out of a lot of problems in this country and it has not worked.”

“Maybe if she wouldn't have went away for that four months, she wouldn’t have overdosed and died,” he said. Though he can’t point to a single cause, he said he feels “guilty everyday.” Simmers told me that Brooke’s death, and the powerlessness he felt while repeatedly failing to find effective drug treatment for her, fundamentally changed his mind.

Brooke’s obituary (Courtesy of the Simmers family)

“Twenty years ago, most people thought arrest and incarceration were the answer to this drug war,” he said. “I think most people were wrong—I think I was wrong.” Now Simmers says he’d rather see the roughly $47,000 a year it takes to jail drug offenders spent on jobs programs instead. He’d like to see 24-hour, on-demand treatment available to anyone who wants it—no waiting lists. The former narcotics officer is even open to the idea of decriminalizing heroin.

Simmers also now detects a racial injustice in the harsh punishment he once meted out. His own crack-era targets mostly went unnoticed, but the details of Brooke’s life and death were covered heavily in the local media and elicited a wave of sympathy from police officers and elected officials. “This problem was happening in the African American community for years and we did nothing about it,” Simmers said. But Brooke was “a pretty white girl who lives in the suburbs, lives in middle-class America. I think that could be why people were more attracted to the story.”

Simmers said that when Brooke was sober, she told him that she hoped to open a sober-living house for women. They struck a deal: One year sober, and he’d help her make it a reality. She overdosed before she made it to a year, but Simmers decided to go ahead with the plan anyway. Soon after her death, he and Dana began fund-raising, and a friend donated a leafy patch of land outside Hagerstown. Volunteer construction crews are at work on a 16-bed living facility and treatment center.

Simmers and Brooke (Courtesy of the Simmers family)

On a brisk morning last May, about 100 supporters—grieving parents, people recovering from addiction, police officers—gathered for the ground-breaking ceremony. “I don’t think anybody wants to build a house in memory of their daughter,” Simmers told the crowd, “but this was her dream and we’re going to do our best to fulfill her dream.” Brooke’s House is slated to open early next year.

Article source here:The Atlantic

[itsworn]

What’s New in Racing Products?

Power Steering Among the Elite

Manufactured in Kennesaw, Georgia, KRC’s all-new Elite Series Pump with bolt-on aluminum tank is packed with affordable technology. It carries KRC’s standards, along with many of the features developed in the company’s Pro Series pump. While many power-steering pumps on the market may be a rebuilt streetcar pump, KRC builds its Elite pumps from the ground up. The pump uses sealed bearings, press-on pulleys, and mounting that bolts right on the standard GM configuration commonly used in racing.  The Elite Series Pumps are fully adjustable for enhanced driver feel.  Plus, KRC Changeable Flow Technology offers nine levels of feel to create the perfect driver-preferred steering from firm to light. For more information call (770) 422-5135 or visit www.krcpower.com

  The Full Assembly From Bicknell

Bicknell Racing Products offers a multitude of solutions for your race vehicle, including this full 19 5/8-inch 32-spline driveshaft assembly. The package allows for easy assembly and includes all the necessary parts to get you ready for on-track action. This assembly includes the driveshaft (PN STGDDM102-20), a transmission yoke (PN STGDYM205), a rear-end pinion yoke (PN STG225), two slip yokes (PN STGDYM235), two U-joints (PN STGU1644), and two U-joints (PN STGU1612HD). Bicknell also offers replacement parts. For more information call (716) 285-7502 or visit bicknellracingproducts.com

Superior Safety in Cells

In light of the new safety regulations for many dirt sanctioning bodies, Superior offers a multitude of cells to fit the standards. The fuel cells hold a cross-linked, high-strength polyethylene bladder to keep the fuel contained. The cell itself is a CNC laser cut, CNC formed, and spot-welded steel can. It features a double-sealed billet fill cap and O-ring with flapper gasket.  Each cell also has a 10-AN side or top fuel pickup, an 8-AN fuel return, an 8-AN fuel level checkpoint, and a 6-AN vent and rollover valve. The cell can be confined by 2-inch wide CNC laser cut and CNC formed 0.125-inch safety straps, which are gapped for a 1-inch steel-tubed frame (not included). These cells are available in several different capacities, including 16-, 22-, 26-, and 30-gallon. For more information call (541) 895-4224 or visit www.superiorfuelcells.com

Getting Tricky With Your Fabrication

Trick Tools has the do-it-yourself racer covered. For those who work on their own engines and exhaust systems, the exhaust tack-welding clam will simplify exhaust fabrication. The Icengineworks clamp has been designed to make exhaust building much easier and allows the fabricator to preview, adjust, and clock the pieces before they are tack-welded together. This feature minimizes time-consuming weld and cut adjustments, allowing more precise assembly of exhaust systems. The clamps are stainless steel and are packaged in a four-piece set. They are available in a variety of sizes from 1 5/8 inches to 3 inches. For more information call (641) 628-3860 or visit www.tricktools.com.

Save the Tear-Offs!

Have you ever grabbed one too many tear-offs, then had to start wiping your visor? Pulse Racing Innovations EZ Tear system (and tear-off posts) can help prevent wasting tear-offs. The EZ Tear provides a shield for the folded tear-offs to prevent grabbing them accidently. The shield protects the folded tabs and guides your hand to the top tear-off, so you get the full benefit of every single tear-off. Ultimately, you can keep your vision clear and focus on racing, not fumbling with tear-offs. The EZ Tear is universal and attaches between the lens and the tear-off post. It adjusts to accommodate the tear-off tabs on all brands of helmets and tear-offs. Also, Pulse’s posts are designed to make tearing as easy as possible, as they are 15-percent taller than competing brands. In addition, they accommodate more tear-offs, feature a rounded top for easier tear-off installation, and have tapered sides for easier pulling. For more information call (817) 822-6882 or visit www.pulseracinginnovations.com

Helping You Get a Grip

These K1 ProXS Gloves are manufactured exclusively for RaceDay Safety and can help keep your hands well protected while maintaining a comfortable grip on the wheel. They feature exterior stitching with no seams on the inside of the glove to provide superior comfort. The gloves are SFI 3.3/5 Certified and are available in multiple colors, including black and white, red and black, blue and black, black and purple, and black and pink. Available in sizes small through extra large. For more information call (770) 505-0193 or visit www.racedaysafety.com

Fire Protection

The Lifeline 2.25 Liter 2 Nozzle Fire System comes in a complete kit that’s ready to install. This system is ideal for many types of motorsports activities. The specially designed nozzles divide the AFFF (Aqueous Film Forming Foam) into minute particles to smother the fire and provide a seal that prevents re-ignition. The system weighs 8 pounds and has a very small footprint for installation in a wide variety of areas. For more information call (844) 776-7223 or visit www.augustamotorpsorts.biz

Mittler and Lee Team Up With FAST-AN

Mittler Bros. Machine and Tool has teamed up with Lee Race Technology and its patented AN Wrench Tool System brand: FAST-AN. Mittler is now the exclusive manufacturer and distributor of these unique wrenches. Featuring an ergonomic handle, the wrench holds heads with sizes ranging from -6 to -16. A robust latch mechanism allows smooth, quick head changes. All components are made in the United States and precision CNC machined from 7075-T6 aluminum, which is nearly double the strength of standard 6061-T6 material. Combine this high-quality processing and materials with the Type III hard-coat finish and it ensures the tools will maintain a superior fit and finish throughout its long life. Wrench and tool end options include but are not limited to Aluminum AN Wrenches with different angled heads and lengths, Aluminum AN wrench ends with a nylon and Delran jaw lining to minimize marks, steel Bonney-style wrench sizes; and steel and aluminum spanner wrenches. For more information call (800)-467-2464 or visit www.mittlerbros.com

Let’s Get it Started

The E3 DiamondFIRE 6CDI features a high-performance digital microprocessor-controlled circuit board in a lightweight extruded aluminum housing. Boasting a highly efficient design, the DiamondFIRE 6CDI has several key innovations, including the sequential fire start mode, allowing easier and faster starting. It draws only 0.7 amps per 1,000rpm of engine speed, while delivering 525 volts to the coils and up to 130mJ of spark energy. The ultra-durable DiamondFIRE 6CDI comes complete with wiring harness, hardware, and mounting kits. It’s compatible with even-fire 4-, 6-, and 8-cylinder engines and 12-volt negative-ground electrical systems. It will accept input trigger signals from break points, breakerless electronic modules, and magnetic-distributor or crank-trigger pickups. For more information call (904) 567-5994 or visit www.e3sparkplugs.com.

Roll Over Fire Protection

Few things are scarier in racing than a car on fire. It’s even worse if that burning race car is flipped upside down. Thankfully, this new safety innovation from Willy’s Carburetor and Dyno Shop is designed to stop fire at the source. Simply insert the plate between the metering block and the main body that retains the fuel inside the float bowl by blocking the vent tube and air-bleed channels. Installation is simple and takes about five minutes. The kit includes two plates, eight bowl screws with gaskets, two metering block gaskets, and two pump arms. For more information call (618) 262-8021 or visit www.willyscarb.com

Lower Replacement

Titan presents a new aftermarket part to replace lower control arms. This Titan arm fits or comes from 1980-’96 Impala and Caprice, 1970-’81 Camaro. It is approximately 15 1/2 inches wide outside to outside at the bushings and approximately 15.625 inches center to center in length. The lowers are manufactured with 2.185 B/J Hole to Fit 1267 Style Ball Joint. For more information call (407) 277-8423 or visit www.titanmotorsports.com

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