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[maggymaidhousekeeping]

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[garybrower]

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[dulafer]

TWIN REVENGE

This is an old one, just thought I’d share..... Its of my shortest stories. Any feedback appreciated - dclouser@mac.com 

REUNION

I’ve always been the odd twin out. Will and I were both named William C. Witt with the only difference being our middle names – Charles and Conner. I’ve never liked being called ‘Willy’ while William preferred ‘Will’. Growing up, our parents couldn’t tell us apart - we even have the same birthmark on our chins. 

I’ve always been jealous of Will for being the favorite. Many times, I’d answer to my brother’s name on purpose or force Will to swap places with me. The first time I was Will was when he was failing algebra in 9th grade and didn’t want our parents to find out. We swapped places so I could take his tests. My condition was that I stay as him for the day – soaking up my parent’s adoration and love. Will was definitely our parent’s favorite which pissed me off the older I got, often lashing out for attention. In high school I started impersonating my brother to get him in trouble. Sometimes, I would get caught because my brother would have an alibi with friends backing him up, or I’d would slip up wearing my hair differently or some other little detail. 

By our junior year, I started hanging with another group of friends and dealing drugs. My reputation for trouble followed me as my ‘business’ grew. Will knew what I was up to because people would mistake him for their dealer. Weeks before graduation, the principal caught me selling drugs red handed, thanks to a tip from Will. Since Witts are a powerful family, Dad worked a deal to allow me to graduate on the condition that I spend the summer in rehab.  The deal was made and the day after graduation, Dad drove me to the rehab center. I lasted a week before escaping and never being seen again.

My drug pals smuggled me out of Los Angeles to northern California.  San Francisco was the perfect spot for me. With my college age looks, I blend in on local high school and college campuses where my business grew exponentially. I wear the college gear that fit the campuses I was working daily. I’ve always been thrifty with my earnings and always a light user myself so I saved my money for a future free of drugs. When I can, I sit in on college classes, mostly political science since my father was always drilling politics into Will and I. 

Will on the other hand, was the perfect son. He attended college for political science, becoming a staunch conservative. But Will wasn’t always perfect. After two years in college, he dropped out and was hired at Prager U as a campus correspondent to interview students and follow trends. Will quickly picked up a fan base nationally and within months was buying a condo and new car – with the help of a proud rich father. Will travels the country giving speeches, interviewing people and blogging.

Mom and dad have all but forgotten about me. I faked my own death and changed my name when I heard my family was looking for me.  It was convincing enough that the Witts even had a funeral for me. 

CAMPUS LIFE

I’m at Stanford University working my regular ‘route’, supporting my boys with product. A few girls spot me, come running over and one screams. “Oh my god, Will! I’m your biggest fan.” 

I wonder why they’re calling me Will and fawning over me? “Hi, thank you so much.”

“We can’t wait to hear you speak.  You going to do a ‘man on the street’?” the other one squeals.

“Sure am.” Not knowing what that is even. I see one of my boys coming over for his weekly stash. “Excuse me ladies, I’m meeting an old friend.”

Tyler comes over with his usual swagger carrying his backpack. “Do I have competition bro?”

“No, not at all! You know you’re my main man.” We do his frat’s handshake. Anyone watching us would see us both in Stanford gear and just assume we’re students. We take a seat on a nearby bench, talk business, two minutes later, he’s leaving with my backpack full of drugs.

I walk around campus, wondering about those two girls calling me Will.  When I get to the campus hub, I see my face plastered all over the board. The flyers reads ‘Will Witt, Prager University, Topic: Campus Diversity’. I pull one off the board, fold it up and place it in my backpack pocket. I’ll be damned, my little brother in town. I have to see this for myself.

I get home and study the flyer, find the Prager U site and start watching my brother’s videos. We’re so alike with our political beliefs – neither of us have fallen far from our father’s tree. We both have the same attitudes and beliefs as good old dad. He even sounds like dad did, around the dinner table our entire life. I then log into his Instagram account, using Will’s password he’s been using for a decade. I’m getting envious of my brother’s life – he’s still the golden boy and I’m sure dad is super proud of him. He’s traveling all over the world thanks to this Prager gig. On top of that, he’s become famous on Fox and other mediums for being very articulate and full of energy. 

As I watch him, I’m getting very envious of Will. I’m as smart and talented as my brother. I could have been the favorite son, the celebrity.  ‘Should be, could be, will be.’ I think to myself. That should be my life.

The next day, I head to a theater supply store and buy a fake belly, beard/mustache and some make up. I’ve got to see my brother in action today. Will is scheduled to do a ‘man on the street’ interview on campus this afternoon, then the speech later tonight. 

I show up for his man on the street interview but hang way back, out of sight of Will. With my disguise, I’ve gained 50lbs, a full beard, sunglasses and wearing a tie dyed hoodie. I watch and listen as Will, his producer and camera man set up everything. I record everything with a shotgun microphone - hearing the back and forth banter between Will, his cameraman Gavi and Mike, his producer. That evening, I attend the lecture in another disguise just to be safe. I’ve haven’t seen Will in over two years but he’s still the same arrogant Will in private. In public he’s very friendly and charming. As I’m listening to Will speak, a plan starts to formulate in the back of my mind. Willy is already dead to the world, so why not become Will. It’s not like I’m inexperienced in doing it. It would always piss Will off when I would steal his identity and fool his girlfriends. While he was taking a shower, I would get dressed first, take his clothes, phone, car and pick up his girlfriend who was clueless. Will would be pissed but I would apologize and he would forgive me. One time Will called his girlfriend while I was impersonating him and couldn’t convince her that he was actually Will – I was that good. 

I start tracking my brother via his emails, calendar and social media. Will is flying from Los Angeles to Washington for a week, with Turning Point USA to promote Prager U and himself. Our parents will also be gone on vacation to Europe for months, with plans to hook up with Will in London for lunch and a show in a month.

MOVING TO LOS ANGELES

I need to formulate a detailed plan. Will has lived the good life long enough, it’s my turn now.  I start with cleaning up my life here – telling my friends that I need to disappear again. They buy it easily as it has happened before. I clean out my bank account – about $1m, and drive to Hollywood where Will lives.

I rent a furnished apartment across the street from Will’s condo. It’s perfect – from my living room and bedroom, I can see his entrance and garage. I keep my fake beard and baseball cap on all the time, and only use the back entrance to go anywhere. On his departure day, I watch him being picked up by an airport service and confirm his flight took off on schedule. I head to my bathroom and remove my beard and hide my longer hair under a baseball cap. The condo manager gladly provides ‘Will’ with a spare key when I tell him I lost mine.

Will’s condo is very nice with an open floorplan. There’s 3 bedrooms and 3.5 baths. The lower level is a 2 car garage, lots of storage, a large video recording studio and utility room. His silver Porsche 911 Cabrio is parked next to a motorcycle. On the wall is some leather gear, boots and helmet. The 2nd floor has a large living room with exposed brick walls, huge flat screen, fireplace, bar, gourmet kitchen with top end stainless steel appliances and a personal office. The 3rd floor is all bedrooms with a huge master suite with large bathroom and large walk in closet. The one spare bedroom is sparsely decorated with just a bed, dresser and chair. The other bedroom is mostly empty. It’s a great ‘crib’ but I’m certain daddy helped pay for most of it.

I get to work quickly with my plans.  I try to check out his studio’s computer but its password protected and I can’t get it to unlock. This isn’t a problem after I plug in a thumb drive with keystroke tracker and some other tricks. In a minute, I gain access to all his computers and social media accounts.  The password was his usual password but backwards.

His iMac Pro is a wealth of information – full of his unedited videos, speeches and even a digital diary. I thought he stopped doing a diary in 11th grade but apparently not. He updated it just this morning before leaving. I’m sitting there for hours reviewing his life since I left. His comments about my death and funeral are cruel to say the least.  He blames me for fucking up life with my death, how mom & dad are glad it’s over and they’re all better off. Even my father agreed with him. That’s fine by me, they won’t miss Will at all when I take his place.

I decide to spend the night here and continue my studying. In his basement studio there is a green screen, professional video cameras and teleprompters set up in one corner which he uses to make his cutesy videos. I turn on the equipment, click on a file and up pops the words to his last blog on the teleprompter. On another display in front of the green screen pops up the empty stool where he sits. On the stool is a remote I believe is for controlling everything. I plop my ass down, face the camera, and see myself, or Will on the display in front of me. I fuss with my hair to give me Will’s prominent cowlick, press ‘record’ and the words start moving for me to perform. “What’s up guys, Will Witt for Prager U” I repeat his performance, then delete file before passing out at 2am, after seeing his posts on landing in Washington DC. 

LOOKING THE PART

My brother prides himself on his hair, especially the huge cowlick that he’s proud of. According to his calendar, he had a haircut a few days before leaving for Washington. I make myself at home taking a shower, and pulling on some of his clothes – dark gray skinny jeans, t-shirt, jacket and his black high top converse sneakers. I’m missing his clunky watch and ring he wears all the time, and also his rope crystal necklace he’s been wearing since he was 15. The one time I was with one of his girlfriends, not having that necklace on, gave away my identity. I jump in Will’s Porsche and find a salon with a great google rating. I ask for my usual and show her pics from two days ago. They’re very close up and detailed. In half an hour, I’m smiling at Will in the mirror, running my hand through his cowlick. 

Back home, I pull in to the garage and before I can close the door, some pretty little thing is running over to me. 

“Will! Hey there, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Oh hey, you caught me.” I smile and act surprise.

“Tammy and I are having a party tonight.” She hands me a flyer ‘Jen and Tam’s Big Party’.

“That sounds like a blast, ‘Jen’.” Hoping she’s the ‘Jen’ on the flyer.

“I was just going to slip it in your mailbox. Thought you were going to Washington or someplace exotic again.”

“My DC trip was postponed, so I’m here.” I give her a typical Will smile. 

“Washington’s lost is our gain. You have to come. Besides you can crawl home if you get drunk like unlike last time.”

“I’ll try my best but super busy here.” I chuckle with her, not sure what she’s referring to but Will’s diary will probably help me remember some of it. I’d love to go but there’ll be lots of iPhones around and plenty of pics/videos posted on social media.

A friend sent me a lot of WiFi HD fiberoptic video cameras and microphones to bug my brother’s place. I place a few in each room then sync them to my iPad. Walking from room to room I test them all for activation. It takes all day to hide them properly. Later on, Will’s latest VLOGs and antics from Washington start appearing on his desktop. 

His video reminds me how different our styles are. Will was always conservative dresser while I went for the grunge look. His videos confirm his tastes haven’t changed at all except becoming more expensive. I’m making myself at home – it’s going to be my future home soon anyway. With my new haircut, it only takes a little of his gel to look exactly like him.

 It was always fun turning myself into Will when we were younger, it’s still a turn on now. I print out some pics from his PC files, showing various outfit he’s worn.  I’ve got to nail his ‘look’ perfectly for my future life. There’s one of him in a sharp black suit, white shirt and black tie playing a piano, with a red lapel thingy at a Prager U gala a month ago. We both took piano lesson but I was always a little better.

It’s easy finding the outfit in his very organized closet.  He took it off, left the lapel pin in and probably hasn’t worn it since. There’s a video of the gala in his files that I watch, providing me glimpses of his shoes and watch. I strip out of his jeans, and into the outfit. I couldn’t find his watch – it’s probably in Washington on him but I slip on his pinky ring and a different watch from his jewelry box. Back in the studio, I start a new file – Prager Gala, pretending that I’m Will being interviewed about the night’s events. I sit on the stool, hit record and adlib the event starting with Will’s signature “What’s up Guys” intro, including flashing his two fingers. Being Will is all very natural for me. I’m up half the night learning the equipment, checking out his videos and closet. I just need a few weeks of studying him before I replace him. 

To access his cell phone, a friend puts me in contact with a local guy who clones Will’s iPhone. It costs $2000 but I now see his text messages, calendar and listen to his voicemails. I can also listen in on his calls while he’s talking to people. I can’t speak to them, and they can’t hear me but it’s perfect timing. With him in Washington, his entire life is going through his cell phone, providing me with up to the minute information. He’s working on his schedule for the next few months. With access to all this, I’m learning who his coworkers are, listening to work conference calls, what they’re working on and what Will’s job entails as Prager’s ‘social media influencer’.

Will has a spare set of keys for our parent’s place so I visit just to see what changes have been made while I’ve been gone. The most obvious change is the lack of pictures of me. Their mantel has no pics of Will and I together. It almost looks like they have only one son – that I never existed. Everything else is pretty much how it was three years ago. As I was leaving, Mrs. Tarantolo, their neighbor sees “Will” and comes running over to say hello. She thought it was sweet I was keeping an eye on their place while they were away “Such a good son.”  She claims to be my biggest fan and hasn’t missed any of my videos. She’s clueless about me, as she should – when even our parents couldn’t tell the difference, I’m not worried about anyone. 

My week consists of listening, watching and reading everything he’s up to. I take his Porsche out to grab lunch or dinner to remote places so I’m not seen by anyone that could know him. A few times, fans mistake me for Will and I sign autographs using “What’s Up Guys”. They’re thrilled and its harmless fun for me.  

The week flies by and I return to my apartment across the road.  I return the spare condo key to the manager after making a duplicate of it. On schedule, Will returns via  LAX shuttle service. My surveillance system works perfectly as he moves around his condo.  I see him taking a shower, changing into sweats and working in his studio.  His buddy Mike arrives later with pizza and they brainstorm in the studio about their next VLOG and ‘man in the street’ topics. Listening to their banter helps me learn the lingo and their personal relationship.

Will has not changed a bit since I left Los Angeles – same old anal retentive asshole. It’s fun watching and learning about him. He’s still an avid runner, and like clockwork, he does five miles around a nearby park most mornings. Prager U is just a few miles away and he’s there daily unless he’s traveling. He has a new girlfriend he casually hooks up with but it’s not serious, so that’ll be easy. He writes about meeting her in his diary. He’s got his work schedule planned for the next few months and I know enough to handle it. After a few weeks, my gut is telling me I’m ready to be Will Witt. 

Will’s next major trip is to London for a scheduled Turning Point USA promotion/MOTS and speech at Oxford University – same as he did at Stanford. My plan is to replace him when he arrives home. This gives me another 10 days to get up to speed with his life. I watch him pack, see LAX shuttle service pick him up and confirm his plane took off as scheduled. I make myself at home but keep a low profile, rarely going out. 

Between his phone and computer, I’m kept busy 24 hours/day just keeping up with his life. He’s definitely a video freak, not only recording content for Prager but also everything else like his hotel room, what he had for breakfast, his shopping excursions. I can’t wait to wear his new $7000 bespoke suit he purchased during his shopping expedition on Saville Row. I listen in on his phone calls with our parents, his friends and girlfriend Lisa. This helps me get up to speed with what’s going on in his life. Mom & Dad meet Will for lunch at his hotel, then go to see Hamilton. There’s plenty of selfies and videos to make his life mine. He’s spending a fortune on food, wine, clothes, cigars and trinkets. 

A few hours before he returns, I’m armed with chloroform, truth serum and various knock out drugs.  I hide in his bedroom, ready to pounce with a heavily soaked rag of chloroform. It’s almost enough to knock me out just holding it. 

HONEY I’M HOME

The door lock jiggles and Will enters, plopping his luggage inside the door. He makes a beeline to kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He’s there quite a while before I hear him dragging his very large suitcases up the stairs. I’m crotched in the corner, behind the door as he struggles to get both bags through. The perfect moment happens when one of the bags get stuck in the door jam and I hear him say ‘fuck’. In a split second, I pounce and have the chloroform soaked rag over his nose and mouth. A split second after that, he almost falls to the floor as I catch him. I drag him out into the hallway, and finish putting his bags in the bedroom.

“Welcome home Will, have a good trip?” I look down at him passed out and ask.

“Awesome trip man, had fun with the TP USA team, saw Hamilton with the parents, and hit up lots of pubs and cigars. I’ll have to show you all the pics I took.” I respond to  myself in Will’s typical enthusiastic lingo.  

I drag Will to the empty bedroom and start stripping him. Of course, he’s in a sport coat and tie to travel. It’s so ‘Will’ I think as I carefully remove everything from him, amazed at how alike we still are. I strip off my old sweat pants and t-shirt and put them on him. I pull him up into a metal chair I anchored to the floor, then handcuff his hands and feet so he can’t move an inch. I kneel down next to him, grab his face, then rotate it side to side to check his appearance close up. My sideburns are about a quarter inch too long so I head to my bathroom and trim them to match exactly. 

 I carry ‘my’ clothes back to my new bedroom and slowly start my transformation into Will. I love pulling on the outfit he’s been wearing all day—his sweat and scents mixing with mine. Everything is still warm as I put on his black briefs and socks. His charcoal dress pants fit perfectly as I pull them up. His shirt has gunmetal gray cufflinks and is monogrammed on the sleeve with our initials ‘WCW’. I pulled the black lace up shoes off his feet without untying them. I wiggle into them, tuck in my shirt and fasten my belt. In the bathroom mirror I put on his tie using the same technique dad taught both of us.  I pull on his cool black sport coat with large dark gray plaid patterns. There’s a video of him wearing this outfit for red carpet Oscar interviews. I check his breast pockets, locating his iPhone, keys and wallet.  Tucked inside an outside pocket are his glasses. Slipping on his ring, leather wrist band and watch completes my transformation into Will Witt. I adjust my hair using his Cremo hair cream—Will is always fussing with his hair. Staring in the mirror, I only see Will Witt, just as he was traveling first class earlier. I grin at myself as I adjust my shirt cuffs and admire my looks. I do his usual MOTS intro flawlessly – “What’s Up Guys”. From this moment on, I’m Will Witt and no one will have a clue I’m not. 

My iPhone buzzes in my suit pocket, it’s Will’s girlfriend, Lisa calling. 

“Hey Lisa, I just got in the door babe.” I answer watching myself in the mirror, smiling and playing Will flawlessly.

“I thought you would be, I’ve missed you so much Will.” She whispers seductively.

“Same, may I take you out for dinner?” I ask as charmingly as Will does, remembering their conversation from a day ago, and Will promising dinner and a surprise.

“I would love that.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 7, Let’s dress up and go someplace nice. I’ll wear a suit and tie.” This gives me the afternoon to get settled into my new life. 

“Okay Will, can’t wait.”

“Bye Babe.” Will’s cutesy name he uses for all his girlfriends.

‘It’s show time’ I think to myself. I head back to my brother who’s finally starting to stir from the chloroform. I start slapping his face and he becomes more aware.

“Wake up Willy, Willy wake up.” I say playfully. 

He looks confused, slowly recognizing me, his eyes bug out, then starts to struggle. “But you’re dead?”

“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Don’t struggle bro, you’ll only hurt yourself.” I laugh at him.

“What’s going on Willy? Why are you in my clothes?”

“From now on, please call me Will and they’re now my clothes. I just got back from London and I’m really jet lagged.” I stand proudly, straighten my tie then reach into my breast pocket for my new wallet.

“Asshole, what do you think you’re doing?” he yells and gets pissed as he’s now fully awake.

“Well, remember when you planted drugs in my locker, turned me into the school principle and ruined my life?”

“Yeah, that was a good one! They all bought it too. Got rid of you for good.” He laughs.

 “Well, laugh all you want.  I’m borrowing your life.”

“You’ll never get away with this. Whatever you are planning, won’t work.” He predicts.

“Well I’m taking Lisa out to dinner tonight to celebrate my return. In other words, I need pussy but Will doesn’t talk like that. Let me rephrase it – I’m taking my girlfriend out for dinner and hopefully make love to her. Better?”  I leaf through my wallet checking it out, pulling out the debit card. “Bro, is your PIN still 8991? I may need some cash for my date. You only have a $40 in here.”

By the look on his face, I know he never changed is PIN. “Thanks bro, just needed to confirm that.” 

“She’ll know you’re not me, don’t even try it.”

“Bro, you’re talking to the guy who fooled all your girlfriends in high school. You’ve been dating her for what? About 6 weeks after meeting her at Jen’s last party where you got wasted and don’t remember getting home.”

“You’ve been reading my private diary?” 

“Well, you could say it’s my diary. So, I was just reviewing my life for the past few years.” I laugh at him. “Which brings me to a new issue – where should I take her for dinner, and do afterwards?”

“Fuck yourself.” He yells.

“Bro, I’m hoping to fuck her, not myself. You don’t want me to do something brash, ‘unWill like’ and ruin your relationship do you? I bet she doesn’t even know you have a twin brother, am I right?” I laugh at him. 

“Willy, what are you doing? Just untie me and I’ll forget this ever happened. I promise.” Trying to soften me up.

“Let’s get this straight, for the time being, I’m Will Witt, you’re nothing, don’t call me that again.” I yell at him. “Now, you’re going to help me be you or I’m going to really fuck up your life. You know I can do it. If you lie to me, there will be repercussions. Do not test me.”

“Okay.” He responds defeated.

“Okay, what?” I demand.

“Okay Will. Lisa loves Italian and there’s this little family owned restaurant called ‘Papa Joe’s’ near her house. She loves it and so do I. That’s where I was planning on taking her tonight. I always get the ‘Lombardo’ dish with an ice tea of course.” He answers defeated. 

“That’s good information bro, I really appreciate that.” I watch his face and have always been able to tell when he was lying. “What after that? What are her limits?  I need everything to be you with her. Give me the full history.”

He proceeds to tell me everything I need to know about Lisa – at least I hope so. 

“Now I need details about my job.  I know where you work, and what you do but more details about the people, office layout, where your office is and how I get in?” He gives me looks that could kill. “What’s up guys?” I mock him with his catch phrase. 

“My work ID badge gives me complete access anytime. It’s in the front pocket of my backpack. I have an office on the second floor, just left as you get out of the elevator. My name is on the door. You can’t miss it.”

“What do you do when you first get there, in the morning? Routine? Pals? Coffee? conference room? Where do you go for lunch? I need it all Willy. You don’t want me to mess up your perfect little life, do you?” I subtly threaten him.

Once I pump him for everything, I grab the bag from the corner, pull out a needle and inject him. He screams at me for about two minutes then become docile. I walk him to the bathroom and order him to relieve himself. Once secured back in his chair, I give him dose of Midazolam that will keep him out for 12 hours and put a ball gag in his mouth. I shut and lock the bedroom door, head back to my master bedroom finishing my unpacking. 

I slip easily into Will’s routine.  My shirts and suits will go to my cleaner per the receipts in the Porsche, the rest go into the washer. Carefully tucked inside his luggage is his new Saville Row Huntsman, a few new dress shirts and the Big Ben charm I bought Lisa in London. I can’t help but try on the new suit, admiring the fit and material. I head downstairs and see Will’s work backpack he has with him all the time. I take it down to the studio office and start going through the content…. A few cameras, my passport, iPad and MacBook Pro.  There’s a printout of my next Prager assignments and hand notes he made in the margins. I find his work ID, clip it to my suit, repack his backpack and head to the office. 

A DAY IN THE LIFE

I’ve followed Will to Prager U but have never stepped foot inside. I pull into an empty parking lot, and park in his assigned spot. Will says no one is ever there but he sometimes goes in to get a jump on Monday. My ID badge opens the main door. I easily find his office and make myself at home. On the wall I notice the signed photograph of Reagan that dad treasures and wonder how Will has it. I plop my backpack on the chair next to my desk and start exploring. I open my MacBook and it starts syncing with the LAN. I easily log in and upload my videos as Will does after all his events, according to his logs.  

I explore the entire building and everything is as he described – Boss’ office, video production, media center, studio, executive conference room etc. I confidently walk around taking in the names of my coworkers. In the men’s room, I smile at Will in the mirror and clean out my coffee mug. 

Back in the office, I settle into my desk and go thru my drawers, check my work email and respond to some.  I hear someone coming up the stairs, calling my new name, approaching my office.  I recognize it immediately as Will’s producer and friend – Mike.

“In here.” I yell out to him.

He pops his head around the corner. “Welcome back, how was your flight?”

“Uneventful, good to be home but jet lag.” I casually answer.

“My flight yesterday was delayed an hour from Chicago but not too bad.”

I heard their last conversation before Will took off this am, and continued it. “I’m good with the final edits from MOTS, just uploaded it so Alexander can add the graphics.” 

I pull up the video, knowing Will made a few cuts on the flight over, and show it to him.  

“You’ve been busy man, looks great. You want to grab lunch?” 

“Sure, you drive and pick.” I can’t resist the thought of testing my ‘Will skills’. 

Mike takes me to ‘In & Out’ for burgers.  He doesn’t suspect a thing, readily accepting me as his friend and coworker.  We talk about the trip, work and future trips. I feel as if I was actually there. He drops me off and I head back to my office and continue to familiarize myself with everything for a few more hours. 

My big test will be ‘my’ girlfriend Lisa.  I stay in Will’s slick outfit, donning his favorite Ray-Bans for the drive. She’s waiting for me outside and jumps into my car. Her unexpected full tongue kiss surprises me but I quickly adjust and give her full tongue back. We make out for a minute then I take her to Papa Joe’s.  Will was telling the truth, Lisa lights up as I pull in front and valet the Porsche. I use my brother’s pics, diary, blogs and text messages to talk about my London trip. When desert comes, I spring the Big Ben charm on her. She leans in tenderly, kisses me deeply and invites me to spend the night. 

At her place, we strip and jump right into bed.  In minutes, she’s moaning as I work her pussy, slowly penetrating it with the tip of my head. She starts moaning softly ‘oh Will, oohhh Will’ making me harder, pushing deeper into her as she climaxes. I explode in her, then collapse onto my back as she curls up under my arm and we fall to sleep.  She wakes me up with a blow job and homemade pancakes – Will’s favorite she notes. I’m not a big pancake fan but eat them eagerly as Will would. I’ve replaced Will completely and now have his sexy girlfriend. 

DAY TWO

I check on Willy when I get home and he’s starting to stir. My schedule today calls for video editing at Prager U with Gavi and Mike. I take a quick shower put on an outfit that screams ‘preppy conservative’ – which isn’t difficult as that’s all Will has in his closet, making my job easy. 

I pop my head in to the bedroom and see that he’s wide awake.

“Morning sunshine.” I cheerfully say.

“Let me the fuck out of these straps now!” he mumbles as I remove the ballgag.

“Sure thing, but first a little shot so you can take a dump and eat a little something. Hungry?”

“No, don’t drug me, it’s a fucking weird feeling.” He pleas.

“Sorry man, I can’t chance you getting free and having a fake Will running around.”

“You’re the fake Will, ass wipe.” He screams.

“Hmmm Lisa and Mike didn’t think so.  I ran into Mike in the office yesterday while uploading my latest VLOG and MOTS video, then had lunch with him.  He’s a good friend of mine. Oh, and Lisa… Damn did I hit her sweet spot last night as she moaned my name softly in my ears. She really loved the Big Ben charm I got her and the ‘Big Will’ I gave her. I think I’m in love bro.” I grab my crotch so he knows what I’m talking about. 

“You fucking bastard!!  Fucking asshole!! You’ll be caught. You can’t slip into my life that easily.” He screams.

“Now, now, Willy.  Guess you didn’t notice the video and audio bugs I installed throughout my new condo or the keystroke tracker on your computers. I’ve been catching up with you since Stanford. Your condo manager was gracious enough to give me a key after you lost it.” I run and grab my iPad and play some of the videos for him, then I show him the cloned phone and play his last conversation with Mike. 

“Guess I don’t need this cloned phone any longer. I have to admit, you’re quite the busy person. Your phone never stops ringing and beeping but don’t worry, I’m keeping up.”

“Fuck you Willy!  When I get free, you’re going to jail or worst.”

“If you get free, which I doubt. If you haven’t noticed, you’re bolted to the floor. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll have new carpet installed at some point. Nice thing bro – between my bank account and yours, I’m quite wealthy with a lot of future potential. In fact, after this gig, I’m thinking of running for office. Dad would love it and back me financially.”

He mutters. “Fucker.”

“Hey bro, don’t worry, I’m taking good care of your life. Enjoying it immensely, especially Lisa. She really knows how to wake me up but I’m not big on the pancakes.”

He thrashes back and forth in the chair screaming more obscenities at me.

 “Bro, seriously, how do I look? Do you approve my work outfit? I’ve noticed this sport coat is one of your favorites. Oh, and my new suit from London fits great and feels incredible. I just had to try it on.” I taunt him while adjusting my shirt sleeves and checking my watch.

“What are you doing here?” he quietly demands.

“Well the drug career pays quite well but is extremely dangerous.  After seeing you at Stanford, I decided a career change was necessary. Don’t you agree it’s a good career move?”

“You’ll never fool them for long.  There are things only I could know. You’ll tripped up.  What about mom and dad?”

“Are you serious?” I laugh out loud. “Mom and dad could never tell us apart, you know that. I did visit the house while you were in London and from the pictures displayed, it looks like I, Will, am an only child. They’re the least of my worries.”

“Oh, they’ll know you’re not me.”

“Why would they? Just look at me bro. I was always a better you than you, when I wanted to be. I do have to get fully up to speed with my new life, friends and girlfriend but that’s what all my new drugs are for. I kind of like your style so I’ll only wear what you already have in your closet.  I’m enjoying your preppy style. I think I’m rocking the Will look, you have to admit it.” I tug on my sleeves not interested in his rants.

“What about work?” He counters.

“Oh bro, that’ll be easy too. I’ve watched all your videos – the work and personal, edited and unedited. I taught myself iMovie to edit my MOTSs for uploading. I’ve seen you brainstorm with Mike on MOTS topics and question. It’s amazing how we even think alike politically. I’m ahead of schedule for today.  Like the anal person you are, I was in the office all afternoon while you were sleeping. I cleaned out my scummy coffee mug, organized my desk and left a note for Alexander on the graphics I’d like to see before the end of today. I can’t wait to meet the boss, have been a fan of his for years.”

“You can’t be me!” He slumps his shoulder in deeper defeat. 

“I am you, no one will have a clue I’m not.” 

I inject him with truth serum and a powerful muscle relaxer.  By the time I come back with breakfast, he’s docile and defeated. A few protein bars, quick trip to bathroom and he’s safely secured again. The truth serum is remarkable. I have a totally different discussion with him.

“Hey bro, how do I look? You like?” I spin around to model my outfit.

“I’ve worn that exact outfit before I think.”

“Thank you, now see, it wasn’t too hard to be nice, now was it?”

He spills his guts to me about all his coworkers, and what he thinks of them. While he’s drugged, I hit him up on family issues and his feelings towards me. He basically threatens to kill me and will since I’m already dead. It’s been on his mind since he woke up chained to the chair. I snicker to myself, knowing he’s the one who’s days are numbered. It’s almost time for work today, so I knock him out for another 12 hours.

My first day of work is a breeze.  I visit Alexander and review the graphics I want. Mike and I review the schedule and brainstorm future MOTSs and VLOGs. Will has the easy part and probably makes the most money. Prager’s staff writes his MOTS questions and helps him with upcoming speeches. He provides the topic, they handle it from there. Will was good enough to do my outline for his University of Texas speech next week. I turn them in and talk to Marissa, our content producer. I have the best gig – I just need to be the hip preppy conservative face of Prager U and get to travel all around the world. 

When I’m leaving Marrisa’s office, I run into Dennis Prager, the president of Prager University. He puts his arm around me and leads me back to his office.

“Will, good to see you, how was London? I just saw your rough video and it’s great”

“Thank you, Mr. Prager. London was great.” I respond and his face immediately looks puzzled.

“Since when am I Mr. Prager?”

“Dennis, sorry it just came out. I’m still out of sorts with jet lag and the British are so formal.”  I try to recover.

“I understand boy, plus you probably had too much wine and cigars I’m sure.”

“I sure did. I brought a few Charatan Robustos back with me” I chuckle knowing their conversations about them and using them to solidify my identity.

“And you’re not sharing? Will, Will, Will, how could you?” 

“I’ll bring them in tomorrow.” 

“Let’s grab lunch son.” 

I can’t believe I’m having lunch with Dennis Prager. He’s thrilled with ‘my’ work, wants me to do more TV appearances like Fox & Friends but also liberal networks. My ratings are through the roof. I talk about my London trip, showing him pics of my parents and selfies I took. We talk politics, going back and forth on issues. We get back to the office and I easily fit in and learn the ropes. By the end of the day, I’m very pleased with my new life. I pass on happy hour claiming I’m still of out sorts due to jet lag. 

CHECKING IN

Back home I check Willy. He’s awake but groggy.

“What’s up guy? How was your day?” I ask cockily as I strut in.

“How do you think, you sick fuck.”

“So sorry to hear that. My day was awesome. My latest VLOG and MOTS are killing it. I had lunch with my friend Dennis and he wants me to do more TV spots. It was probably the best day of your life, I mean my life.”

“My life! You fucker, my life.” He screams with pure rage.

“Wow bro, you smell. We’ll have to get you a shower but first I need to change. Be right back.”

I run to my closet and throw on a pair of running shorts and a Prager t-shirt. I keep my cell phone on me as it’s been going off all day. When I get back to Willy, he starts yelling at me.

“What are you up to? Did you get me fired? The truth, you owe me that at least.”

I laugh. “Now why would I mess up my career bro?”

“It’s my life and career. You’re going to pay for this you fucking asshole.” He continues to rant. 

“I’ve had enough of you already.” I grab the ball gag, shove it in his mouth and he starts thrashing again. My phone rings, it’s Mike calling.

“Hey Mike, What’s up?” Willy’s eye light up watching me.

“No, I’m fine, it was just jetlag and you know me…I tried all the beers and cigars in the pubs…Yeah buddy…thanks for your concern.”  I hang up and look at Willy. “Hey that Jetlag excuse will be good for another few days till I get the groove completely.”

He starts mumbling again but the phone rings again with Lisa calling. 

“Hey babe, how was your day?” I sincerely ask. Willy starts squirming and getting louder. 

“Hey babe, hang on, I’ve got my producer calling.” I put her on hold, walk over to Willy and gut punch him with all my force. I impale him and he shuts up.

“Sorry babe, did I thank you for last night?...Oh yeah, I’d love to but I’ve got a lot to catch up with…My parents are coming back Wednesday from their European vacation and we’re suppose to do dinner Thursday? Would love for you to meet them….Okay… love ya.” 

“Bro, see how easy this gig is for me? I still need you for some additional information like the combination to the safe in your office.” He stares at me but is keeping quiet. I grab my little box of drugs and mellow Willy out.  A quick shower, shit and change of clothes and he’s back in his chair. I feed him a sub and water that he quickly inhales. 

“Now Willy, what’s the number to my safe?”

“Go fuck yourself.” he mumbles.

“Willy, you know I could give you some truth serum or beat it out of you.”

“17858” he spits out as in disgust. 

I head down to his safe and open it up.  Inside is a gun, his birth certificate, social security card, and a stack of other seemingly important papers. I grab it all and take head up to review with Willy.

“Nice Glock Willy, let’s review what’s in my safe and why it’s there. Some quality bonding time. Most of this I know but the rest?”  I ask nicely.

“My contract with Prager U, noncompete, mom & dad’s will, my will, some stocks dad gave me.”

I leaf through it, reading it all and ignoring Willy. In between docs, I feed him some granola bars from the kitchen. I play with the unloaded gun in front of him, on purpose. I’ll have a use for it soon.

“Ok brother, more work questions. There’s ‘PR shots’ on calendar for tomorrow afternoon. What’s with that?”

“Joel, our CMO set them up.  It’s just ‘glamour’ pics for his new marketing campaign.”

“Oh, so that’s what my new suit is for I’m guessing. The email to Joel saying you’re all set after you bought it?”

“Yeah, please don’t fuck things up for me Willy. I’ve worked hard this past year.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m Will.” I gut punch him again.

“I’m sorry Will.” He cries in pain.

“That’s better Willy. So, tell me what to expect.”

“Easy, take suit to work, some of my shirts, ties and jewelry.  Collette in our makeup will take care of the rest. Just smile and do what they tell you in front of the camera.” he answers, still in pain.

“Shoes?”

“The black derbies I had on yesterday, I bought for shoot specifically, wanted them broken in. Doesn’t matter though – they only shoot from waist up.”

“Now that’s more like it. Don’t fight me, help me so I don’t fuck up your life.” as if he’s ever getting it back, I think to myself. 

“Yes Will.”

HANGING WITH FRIENDS

“Now, my friend Tommy wants to go out tonight, grab dinner. What would ‘Will’ do?” 

“He wants to do 71Above – it’s the highest restaurant west of the Mississippi. Tricia, his friend is host there and can get us in. Very high end, suit and tie required.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah, he’s picking me up, I’m paying.”

“I’m paying!” I correct him. “What were you going to wear?”

“There’s a black Tom Ford suit with a red lapel pin on it, I’ve only worn it once for a few hours. White shirt and any tie.”

“Oh yes, my outfit from the Prager gala where I played ‘blue moon’ on the piano. What tie, what shirt?” I demand.

He looks at me shocked. “There’s a new gold paisley tie, white spread collar shirt with cufflinks.”

“Why thank you brother. I better go and get ready.” I shove another granola bar in his mouth.

I easily assemble the outfit he was going to wear. After all my spying, I’m sure I would have selected something as tasteful. I skip the gold paisley and decide on a ‘men in black’ look, almost exactly as he had on at the gala. A quick shower, 20 minutes with my hair and another 20 to dress and I’m still 36 minutes early for Tommy.

“How do I look Willy? Now be honest.” I ask walking into the bedroom.

He checks me out head to toe. “You look good Will. You’re wearing my good watch?”

“My good watch brother, remember? You wore your smaller ring at the gala but I stuck with what I had on coming back from London. I think I looks great. Went with the gold black onyx cufflinks. And dude I even had my name embossed inside the suit, sweet!” I open up my jacket.

“You’ve been watching my videos.” He realizes.

“Of course, and reading your diary, all the way back to when dad drove me to ‘New Starts’ and abandoned me. I’m good Willy, been watching you for a month.”

Just then my phone rings in breast pocket. I pull it out and see it’s Tommy.

“Now keep quiet Willy or you know what’ll happen.” I warn him as I answer. “What’s up Tommy? On your way…yeah early is good, I’m ready… Okay, that sounds good, see you soon.”

“Please don’t drug me bro, I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

“Sorry Willy, can’t take any chances. Besides, Tommy mentioned about having a drink when he gets here. Sounds like it’s routine for you guys. What does he drink?”

“Rum and Coke, lots in the fridge just for him.”

I grab the knock out needle and give him a dose.  He doesn’t fight me at all.

“Why thank you bro. I’ll see you later tonight maybe, if you’re awake.” I laugh as I leave and lock the door. 

Tommy walks in without knocking, making his way to my bar as I make my way down the stairs. He sees me and lifts the glasses.

“The usual?” 

“Sure, sounds good to me.”  he’s right at home, grabbing the rum and coke.

“Cheers!” he hands me one, we clink glasses and swig.

I follow Tommy’s lead the entire evening but I know enough about Will to discuss his trip, girlfriend and work. Tommy talks about his auditions for a few movies and a commercial. Sadly for him, I’m a bigger celebrity than he is, as a few people ask for my autograph while waiting to be seated. Tricia has seats for us right next to the window with the best view of LA. It a fun night as a few of Tricia’s friends join us. It’s easy playing Will and his friends. I have everything put on my tab. Thank god he has an early audition for a new Marvel movie, so we leave and I’m home by midnight. 

MORE WORK

I’m up early but Willy is out cold still. He looks like death, probably from all the injections and being upright on the chair for days. Not that I really care as it gives me more ‘Will Time’. To keep in character, I put on some of his work out gear, grab my iPod and do my usual run around the park. I work up quite the sweat but it probably helps with all the alcohol Tommy and I consumed. I check on Willy and he’s now awake and not happy. A quick injection allows me to get him relieved and toss him in the shower. He’s not putting up any resistance so I give him breakfast, leave him in the tub but making sure to securely handcuff him to a grip bar. I take my morning shower in the same shower so I can keep an eye on him.

Willy is so beaten that he’s stopped resisting completely and is cooperative even. Believing that by helping me, I’ll get what I want from him and leave him to his old life. What he’s doing is sealing his fate faster. Once I no longer need him, we’ll head up to my parent’s cabin in the mountains and he’ll be fertilizer. 

After I towel off, I sit on the toilet seat next to Willy.

“How you feeling Willy?” I ask trying to sound concerned.

“Please Will, can I stay here in the tub all day? I promise I’ll be good.”

“I think I can do that but you have to be knocked out. But sure thing. Tommy is a fun guy bro. He sure loves his rum & cokes. We had a blast. I think he was hurt that women were coming up to me for my autograph but not him.”

“Yeah, that’s happened before when we’re out.” He looks really down.

“What is it bro? you look sad.”

“What do you think? I’m chained up and I can’t believe people are falling for your act.” he gets a little feisty.

“Come on bro, how could they not think I was anybody but Will Witt? Don’t worry, no one suspects a thing, so we’re good but I need your help with today’s schedule – sorta of ‘what would Will do’ session just to make sure I don’t fuck anything up for you. Okay?”

“Sure Will, it’s what I live for.” he responds sarcastically.

“How do you come up with the topics for your MOTSs?” 

“Who do you think? Dad, you know how opinionated he is. When we had dinner in London, he rattled off six topics for me to cover and things he’d ask these snowflakes.”

“Ah I thought you sounded a lot like dad when interviewing people. That explains the notes on your iPad. By the way, I’m having dinner with the rents Friday night, having them meet Lisa.”  I just smile at him. “Now about today’s pics, what should I wear? ‘What would Will wear’?”

“We’ve been through this – my new bespoke suit.”

“Exactly what you’d wear today – into the office and for the shoot. I’m just trying to help you Willy.”

“Dennis is always pushing for me in more suits and ties, to be taken more seriously outside the campus forum. Keep it simple – black button down shirt, my charcoal brooks brothers suit. For the shoot, the bespoke of course and take all my new dress shirts and ties, many pairs of cufflinks. I love my gold paisley tie, the one you wore last night. Hopefully you didn’t ruin it.”

“No, I went with a black tie, so the paisley is fine.”

“There’s a large suit bag in the back of my closet that can hold everything you’ll need.’

“I have to tell you bro, I’m gaining a real appreciation for your closet. My tastes have really matured in the past months. What’s with the glasses though?”

“They’re for eye strain bro, giving my eyes a break now from the contact lenses. I also wear them for important interviews or meetings where I want to look more mature and smarter.”

“Well your glasses and contacts work great for me too. My eyes have been changing but I never had them checked. Now, what about the shoot? Who’s going to be there?  How does it work? What does Will do?” I press him.

“It’s a larger version of my down stair studio. Someone will come get me when it’s my turn, take me to changing room, then make up, then to the set – green screen. It’s easy really.  There’ll be people in and out all day long.”

“People like who?”

“Candace, Charlie Kirk, Dave Rubin, Guy Benson and many others.  It’ll be a few days of craziness.”

“Nice!  Do I have any nicknames or personal things with any of them?  Like, how do you address Candace? or Charlie?” He stutters and hesitates. “Spill it or more drugs. Besides, you don’t want me to fuck up anything with your friends now do you?”

“Candace is ‘Candy’ jokingly, she’s getting married in a few weeks.” He continues with the others. I’ll use the information but it sounds childish – something a more mature, evolving Will would never use.  I’ll phase that nonsense out. 

“Good to know. Thanks. I’ve got to get ready for work.” I grin at him.

Dennis Prager alluded to my evolving image during lunch and that I should be wearing more conservative outfits. I agree completely with the boss and love the image. With that in mind, I ignore Willy’s suggestion and go ultra conservative. I remember a beautiful light blue shirt with white contrasting collar and cuffs that ‘I’ve’ worn a few times. It would be ultra conservative with my gray Brooks. 

In Will fashion, I lay out my work outfit on the bed, adding all the details. When I’m satisfied, I pull it on my underwear and socks, pull on my pants.  After I add the belt, I pull on the Brooks shirt.  To keep with the Brooks theme, as Will likes to do, I select the Brooks tie that he wore previously. The whole image screams ultra conservative and looks great. I add white gold cufflinks, his smaller ring and gold watch. I pull on the jacket and stare at myself in the mirror. I put some gel in my hair then fix it exactly as in the pic I found in an old MOTS video. Oh, almost forgot my tie clip. He’s famous on Instagram for his tie clips? I clip one on and it completes my image. I flash a Will smile and fingers. “What’s Up Guys?”. 

I must have nailed the look because when I entered the toilet, Willy’s mouth dropped. In the bathroom mirror, I admire myself, tug on my cuffs and adjust my tie. I don’t say a word.

“Well aren’t you Will Witt.” He comments snidely but I ignore him for a few more minutes as I run my hand thru my hair.

“Who else would I be?” I turn around to face him. “What’s Up Guys, Will Witt for Prager U.” flash my peace sign to him, pretending I’m holding a microphone.

“Probably a better choice for today. No pocket square Will?” 

“Oh shit, totally didn’t notice.”

“In drawer under jewelry box.”  He answers me without even asking. I run to his closet, find a nice silk white one neatly folded in a square. I tuck it in my suit pocket and check myself out in the mirror quickly.

“Better?” He’s silent.

I pull out his preppy glasses and put on and off. “Glasses, no glasses?” I look at him.

“I don’t care, up to you.” 

“Know what, think I’ll have pics taken both ways. I think they make me look older, which would kill my ‘frat boy’ image on college campuses but might help me with the older generation.” I turn to look at his expression but he looks broken. “I love this suit bro, it fits me great. I made sure the knot was right by noting the length of the tie, and location of stripes. Not used to wearing one, almost forgot the tie clip – my fans would have blown up over such a faux pas.”

“True, they watch everything I post.”

“Ok bro, I need to get to work, busy day ahead. I’ll probably be late tonight because Mike wants to do Furley’s for happy hour. I’ll let you in the bathtub so you’re comfortable but how about something to help you sleep?”

“No don’t do that please, I’ll be good.” He begs.

I ignore him, grab the needle and knock him out for the day. 

I jump in my 911 and head in for another day in the life of Will Witt. The suit bag weighs about 30lbs and takes up the entire seat of my 911. Everyone accepts me and I keep learning more and more.  The lingo is coming naturally to me. The routine of emails, small talk and understanding my role is easy. 

I hang my suit bag and jacket on the back of my office door, grab my coffee mug and ease into the day.  Just before lunch, Nicki, one of the film staff comes for me – it’s my turn. I’m seated in in one of the dressing rooms, in a makeup chair, in front of the mirror. Collette comes in all smiles. 

“Will, you’re looking great.”

“You too, so let’s get started. I’ve got a lot to do today on top of these pics.”

“There’s something we’d like to do different this time.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds ominous.”

“Well, how about we cut your hair some?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that Collette, it’s my signature, my “conservative with the best hair”.” Sounding uncertain for effect.

“Well, I was talking to Dennis and Joel, and we feel you should be the focus, not your hair. We’re not talking about shaving your head, just toning down the cowlick some. If you don’t like, it’ll be back in a few months.”

I think about it for a minute, running my hand through my cowlick, looking at Will in the mirror. I’ve seen videos where the wind destroys his giant flop, part of his gig but in the end, I nod in approval and let Prager U redo my image. 

The ‘Will’ PR shoot was so simple, but time consuming.  They brought in some famous stylist from West Hollywood to cut my hair – it took an hour! They went through my suit bag and laid out a number of outfits but didn’t question my taste. They took multiple pics of me in 5 different outfits including what I wore in this morning. I was there for hours. At the end of the day, we head to Furley’s as planned for happy hour. I left on my new suit and last outfit I was photographed in. What a happy hour – hanging with Charlie Kirk, Ben Shapiro and other famous conservatives was incredible. Thanks to Will’s unedited interview videos, I knew exactly what small talk he had with a number of these conservative celebrities and played them perfectly. 

When I get home, my first stop is to taunt Willy still tied up in bathtub.

“Hey bro, this suit is simply amazing. You were right, the shoot was really easy, except for having to change every 20 minutes. Like my haircut?” I tease

“What did you do to my hair?” 

“Willy, remember, it’s my hair. It’s a shorter, more mature, conservative cut. Everyone loves it.  I still have the best hair of any conservative. I texted it to mom and she loves it too.” I open up the iPhone and scroll thru pics from the shoot, then laugh and leave to change into sweats. Following the same routine, I inject Willy, help him to bathroom, feed him and put him to bed. In just a few days, he’s totally changed from being in control to being dependent. He’s definitely a shadow of himself but I’m now casting his shadow.

Every day as Will gets easier as I seamlessly take over his life.  I’m sure I’ve slipped up a few times but since no one knows Will has a twin, who would suspect me? Wednesday at work was incredible. I helped with the rest of the PR shoot, chatted with all of my new conservative friends. I especially liked talking to Dave Rubin and Candace Owens.  I had dinner with everyone that evening and it went really late. By the time I got home, Willy had wetted himself. I was so pissed that I shoved a hot pocket in his mouth, hosed him off and drugged him heavily. 

On Thursday Gavi and I do a man on the street, at Santa Monica Pier. I nailed it – quickly picking up Will’s attitude and methods. It was easy after watching all his videos from the past year. Back in the office I sit down with Gavi, edit his video and work with Alexander to add the graphics.  

Willy is awake when I get home. His eyes scan me from top to bottom then he starts yelling through the ball gag.

“Hang on Willy.” I pop out the ball gag.

“I hate you Willy and I’m done playing your game.” He spits and hits me on my shorts. 

I gut punch him with all my force, then inject him to keep him docile. “Now Willy, we’ll get you on the potty and fed quickly. I don’t have a lot of time, Lisa and I are going to dinner at mom and dad’s. I really like her.”

I get Willy settled, take a quick shower and head out to pick up Lisa. Dinner is a breeze as Lisa is the center of attention. There’s no discussion of Willy at all – just about me and how proud they are of everything I’m doing. As I expected, they were totally clueless I wasn’t their precious little Will. I have to admit, it felt great being home. I showed Lisa my old bedroom and got a BJ on Will’s bed. It was like old times, like his other girlfriends I fooled. Mom and dad announced they’re heading to Hawaii to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary and ask me to watch the house while they’re gone. More time to get reacquainted with my new life as their loving son Will. I spend the night at Lisa’s but get up early to take care of things at home, then work.

Willy is awake and pissed more when I check in on him. 

“Morning Willy.” I cheerfully announce.

“You’re Willy asswipe.” He yells back.

I gut punch him with all my force. “Don’t make me repeat myself Willy, now who am I?”

“You’re Will, Will Witt.” He’s barely able to speak, I hit him so hard.

“Now that’s much better Willy. Let’s get you to the bathroom and fed.” I inject him and continue talking while it takes effect.

“So, mom and dad love Lisa bro.  I think she’s really falling for me.  She gave me a BJ in my old bedroom. Sadly, your old bedroom is now a workout room with no trace of you at all. I showed Lisa my swimming and track trophies, tried on my old letterman jacket and gave her the whole Will Witt history. Can you believe mom and dad are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary? I can’t!” I lay it on thick as the caring son that Will is. 

“Fuck off.” The mumbles.

“Oh Willy, don’t make me hurt you more.” I warn him. I can see the drugs have kicked in, and start untying him. Just as I loosen the last night, Willy tries a fast one on me, trying to tackle me to the floor.  I’ve wrestled him too many times and know his ‘plays’ and another gut punch and I’m dragging him into the bathroom. A quick shower, shit and breakfast bar and he’s good for another 12 hours.

Once he’s secured, I jump in shower and prep for another day in the office. Fridays are so routine with a team strategy meeting for upcoming projects/videos/content.  This is followed by lunch and office time till happy hour at Furley’s. After happy hour, I meet Lisa and a bunch of her friends out for more drinks and dancing, then back to her place.

END OF THE ROAD

I’m up early and skip out of Lisa’s, telling her I have some chores to do for my parents and I’ll be tied up all weekend. Willy is awake and thrashing about trying to get loose. I enter the bedroom smiling, and clap my hands.

“Willy, good news! Road trip bro! We’re going to the cabin to take care of some things for Dad. I thought you’d enjoy it.”

He stares at me, blood shot eyes, a week of facial hair, looking like crap. “Good, could I sleep in one of the bunk beds?”

“Sure thing bro, then we’ll talk about next steps here.” He calms down, feeling better, probably thinking he’s getting his life back.  He’s not. 

I drug him, give him a shower, get him dressed and fed. The next morning, I get him ready for 4 hour trip to the cabin. The dosage I gave him should keep him out for most of the trip. I pack some clothes and fishing gear in case I get the urge. We leave at 5am to avoid any traffic. 

He sleeps the entire journey and I don’t stop once. I’m careful to drive the speed limit to not attract any attention from state police. I pull up to the cabin before 9am. There’s no one around, no one on the lake even – all peaceful and quiet.  With Willy securely tied up in the car, I walk around the cabin inspecting the place, reminiscing about our family outings and fishing trips. In the rear about 500 feet from the house is an old well that’s been dry for years. Dad has been talking about filling it in for safety for years, but never did. It’s the perfect place to hide a body.

When I get back to the car, Willy is stirring. I help him out of the car and walk him inside the cabin. 

“Will, untie me please. My arms and wrists are killing me.” He pleas.

“Sure thing.” Knowing he’s drugged still and couldn’t run anywhere or harm me. 

We walk out to the back porch and I hand him a coke and sandwich. He sits on the step eating and enjoying the partial view of the lake.  I laced the coke with enough fentanyl to kill him – he’ll just pass out and die peacefully. 

“So what’s the plan Will? I guessing this is it for me.  Am I right.” As he takes a large chug of the coke.

“Yeah that’s about it Willy.  You won’t feel a thing though, you’ll just fall asleep. Hope you enjoyed the coke, no after taste?”

“Nah, it tasted fine. You know I need a few cokes a day to keep the energy up.”

“Yeah, it’s a habit I’ve had to adopt. You know Willy, I’ve always been a better you and this life is perfect for me. Don’t worry, I love my new life and have seamlessly integrated into it.  I’ll take good care of it.”

He’s in a daze now, the drug is kicking in. I help him up and over to an Adirondack chair near the fire pit.  He puts his head back and starts breathe erratically. Within minutes he stops breathing. I waste no time stripping and dumping him in the well. I grab a shovel and start shoveling dirt into the well until I can’t see any evidence. For good measure I add another foot of dirt on top of that. 

I’m exhausted after that, take a shower and dress in clean clothes. In town I grab a bite at Palmer’s diner – a dive with good food. As I’m sitting there finishing up with a piece of Apple pie, Rob Decker, an old friend of me and Will come up to me. He’s a local who owns a few small businesses, most inherited from his father. 

“Will! How are you man? Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” He grabs my hand and shakes it hard. 

“Rob, good to see you! Dad asked me to check on the cabin and I needed a break from LA. I’m heading back to tomorrow.”

“Dude, got your gear?”

“Of course, was going to try the old creek before heading home.”

“I’ll join you, heck, even Tommy will go.  He’ll be thrilled to see you. He was talking about your videos on Facebook.”

“Sound great Rob, stop by tomorrow morning whenever.”

Back at the cabin, I start a campfire and relax. Once it’s burning good, I grab Willy’s clothes and toss it all in. I have an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and freedom now. I have a few beers and watch the fire slowly burn out. Sunday morning Rob and Tommy show up at 6am. They don’t even mention my brother Willy even though we were all friends growing up. We have a blast and they want to come to the big city and party with me soon.

I fly back late Sunday afternoon and clean up my condo – unmounting the chair, smoothing over the holes in my carpet, cleaning the bathroom and tossing out the rest of Willy’s clothes. I call Lisa and invite her to my place tomorrow night for dinner and love making.

Monday morning I’m in full Will Witt mode. I wake up and take my run, shower and fuss with my hair for 20 minutes. In keeping with Dennis’ wishes, I up my conservative appearance to match my new haircut. My new bespoke Saville Row suit anchors my identity as the only Will Witt. It’s teamed with my favorite blue Brooks Brothers shirt with white contrasting cuffs and collars.  I pair it with my new shoes and favorite tie I’ve worn a few times.  Joel loves my new attitude and appearance. At lunch, I pull a typical Will move – I escape to a nearby restaurant, hang out and work on my schedule as is habit. 

Life is great now. I have tons of friends and fans. Prager U is very lucrative and I’m in demand across the US and world for speaking appearances. No one suspects I’m not Will. I love the notoriety and acceptance. I even love my preppy wardrobe and new style. It’s grown on me and I’ll maintain it.  

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Stark’s New Intern” Chapter 21

"I've seen things that I never should have seen Said too many things I didn't mean Hurt myself too many times to count I need to let it out, and just release Been lying to myself too long Been trying by myself too long I can't relax, I'm too distracted I can't hack it, hmm I'm needy, greedy Love me, feed me Let's be a family It'll take a village To make a man of me So why couldn't you love me? It's all I need

I just want time in a tree I need a place just for me Somewhere that I can be free Keep the faith and just be What you'll be…"

Raleigh Ritchie—"Time in a Tree"

Work.

From sun up until sundown.

Erik bought suits, shoes, and accessories that shouted to the world that he was in the big leagues. Tailor-made threads. A personal barber that came to the office to service him. He leased a silver Porshe and had gourmet meals delivered to him because there was no time to cook in Devika's condo.

By the time he dragged himself home after a fifteen-hour day with Stark and two hours on a crowded freeway, all Erik could do was heat up his fancy pre-cooked meal, eat it, shower, and fall into bed next to Devika.

Despite the hectic schedule, he was able to knock out some gym time during his lunch breaks, and he went through another growth spurt, putting on an additional twenty pounds that filled out his face, chest, and ass. He felt like his voice had changed too, sounding more manly to his ears. Even his dick felt different as if it had grown a bit too, feeling thicker when he was erect. His physical need for sex grew also, but Devika was unavailable to him when he was gallivanting around with Tony. It was torture moving in and out of Tony's office and seeing her at her desk but pretending that they didn't wake up together or go to sleep together in the same bed.

Their domestic arrangement was cute for about three months, but the shine was wearing off a bit when real-life commenced. He had a job. Responsibilities. Schedules to create and maintain. Pepper was still on his ass at times, and Tony was his usual unpredictable self. He brought that stress home with him and it took him a long time to release the outside world with his home life. Devika was a good sport about the lack of time they had together, but some nights he was so tired that he would fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

Sometimes he could knock out a quickie in the morning, but only if he set an alarm to get up early. He was able to get home early one hectic Friday night because a client canceled a dinner meeting, but by the time he showered and put on fresh cologne for Devika, Tony called him up to tell him to pack for Hawaii. He sat in the living room waiting for Devika, and when she scurried in excited to have him home to herself before ten at night holding Thai take-out food, she saw his bags by the door and she totally deflated. He apologized as he kissed her, trying to smooth her ruffled feathers. Instead of languid love-making as he had promised, they ended up fucking hard and fast on the couch with Erik switching up positions as many times as he could.

When they were done and tangled up in each other's afterglow, Erik could tell that she wasn't happy.

"Go put on those heels, Ma," he told her, slapping her ass.

Her eyes were closed.

"C'mon, baby. I gotta leave soon. I wanna see you in them."

She dragged herself off the couch and walked her sexy ass to the bedroom. When she returned, she had on some black strappy seven-inch heels that he had never seen before.

"Damn, girl."

"I bought these for this weekend."

She twirled around and he stood up fast, fisting his brand new erection.

"Get down on the floor. You know what I want."

She took her time walking to him.

"Look how hard you got this dick."

She smiled then dropped down on the floor under beneath his spread legs, resting her back against the couch.

"Lick my balls."

Her tongue slathered saliva all around his sack. Her right hand reached up and stroked his dick and he kept his eyes on her legs that were bent at the knees. Leaning forward, he could see her heels.

"Baby, I like how you got my balls all in your mouth…fuck…Devika…suck on those nuts bitch…"

He watched her widen her thighs.

"I'ma fuck you in your ass before I leave."

She moaned and the vibration on her mouth coursed all around his nutsack.

"Goddamn Devika!"

Pre-cum laced the tip of his dick and fell down onto her stomach.

He broke away from her.

"Get on your hands and knees."

Devika crawled forward and Erik handed her a couch pillow for her knees. She placed herself in position with her perky ass in the air and Erik stroked himself.

"I know you're still upset I have to leave all last minute. But I'm about to get in that ass so you won't miss me too much."

He positioned himself behind her and used the copious amount of pre-cum dripping out of his slit to lubricate his erection.

"Get ready, Ma…oh shit…I like that…oh damn... Devika…oh shit….oh shit…."

He took his sweet time entering her, and she relaxed easily once he started pumping in and out of her asshole. In the three months he had been living with her, he learned that whenever she was upset with him for any little thing, fucking her in the ass calmed the bad attitude. When her body was fully accommodating, he gave her that length and girth.

"You still mad?" he said between gritted teeth.

"Not anymore. Keep fucking me in my ass!"

"You letting me get in there deep this time. Damn girl…deep…fucking this ass up!"

He jumped from doggy to froggy on her ass, letting his heavy balls smash against her ass and clit.

"You were ready to cuss my ass out when I told you I had to leave…ah shit…ass is fucking tight on my dick."

Devika adjusted her hands and arms to handle the weight he was putting on her. He sweated all over her back.

"Can I cum in your ass?"

"Yes…."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Daddy. Cum in my ass."

"You forgive me for leaving?"

"Yes!"

"You gon' miss Daddy's dick?"

"Yes!"

Devika fell forward and leaned her weight onto her elbows.

Erik slang dick in her ass to put her to sleep.

"How you gon' greet me when I get back?"

"Erik!"

"Tell me!"

He slapped her ass cheek. He was close to ejaculating.

"I'll be at the door….on my knees…."

"What else?"

"Mouth open…"

"For what?"

"Daddy's dick."

"What will you wear?"

"A smile."

He laughed and slapped the side of her hip.

Shifting back to his knees again, he gripped her waist with both hands and rocked into her. So much sweat dripped off from her supple skin and he allowed the fingers of his left hand to slide up and down her spine to feel the warm wetness. Devika played with her clit as he handled her ass. She was so fucking beautiful and he felt so proud to have her for his own…to live with her…to wake up with her…

"I'm cumming….I'm cumming….fuck….I'm cumming hard….I'm cumming hard in this ass…Devika…I'm….shiiitttt!"

He pulled his dick back a few inches as he lost his voice. His eyes squeezed shut hard and he thought he could see hot flashes of white light behind his eyelids as a rush of fluid erupted from his loins. Staring down at himself he watched his dick jump and throb and pump a flood of hot semen into her ass. His balls seemed to jump too.

"Damn baby. That was fucking amazing!"

He slapped her ass again and pulled her body up against him to give her a big hug. Kissing all over her cheek he felt her pat his arm.

"You better go take a shower real quick. I'll call a Lyft for you."

He released her and sauntered to the bathroom letting her see his dick swinging as he walked. When he was done cleaning himself and changing into clothes, she was ready to say goodbye to him at the front door.

"Call me when you land," she said, clutching onto his arm. She was still naked.

"Hopefully we'll be back by Wednesday," he said.

"He has to be. He has several meetings scheduled later that afternoon that he can't get out of."

Her face looked a little strange when he reached for the handle of his bag.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Just a lot is going on and you won't be here to help me decompress."

"You just make sure to be in position when I get back here Wednesday night."

He kissed her and regretted feeling her tongue in his mouth. He wanted to stay home and make love all weekend. His balls still felt heavy.

"Down on my knees. Mouth open," she whispered.

"Mmmhmmm. Make sure you suck my dick real good too."

"I will."

"I know you will. Have my pussy ready too. I'ma be digging in you deep." "Yeah?"

"You know it. Marinate in you all night. Take care of you right. Make up for all of this last-minute bullshit."

"That's part of the job Erik. Life with Tony is non-stop."

"But I have a life with you too."

Her eyes flickered away from his. He didn't like that.

"Call me," she said once more and kissed him again.

She had to shove him out the door to make him finally leave.

###

The private jet banked across the Pacific and Erik could see the lights of the Santa Monica pier before they ascended into the upper layers of a cloudy sky. Once they reached cruising altitude, he could see the moon and stars.

"I've rescheduled my Monaco trip," Tony said as he sat in a creamy gray leather seat with a touchpad in his right hand and a bourbon on the rocks in his left.

"When?" Erik asked.

"Early February."

Tony sipped and scrolled. Erik daydreamed looking out of the window.

Pepper sat across from Erik in the aisle, her fingers busy clickety-clacking on her laptop. Every now and then she would stop and sip on the can of Coke sitting on her seat tray next to her computer.

Happy and another security team member snoozed in the back. A private flight attendant offered Erik snacks and more soda, but he declined. His stomach was in knots. This was the sixth flight out of Los Angeles in four weeks and he barely had a chance to see Devika once he had returned from the last-minute Hawaii trip weeks ago. He was in and out of LAX so much that he didn't bother taking his suitcases home, and just left them packed and ready at the office.

He was learning a ton, and he was also getting access to how Tony's mind worked in regards to the industry he was in and his bottom line.

Money.

Tony Stark loved tech and innovation and being a showman, but he loved money more than anything. Even though he had enough to last several lifetimes, there was an unending need to have more. It was a theme Erik found among the crowd Tony ran with. Money was used to bend wills, control societies, and bludgeon politicians. It was a true addiction. A rabid one at that.

Erik also learned that people at those top one percent heights dehumanized everyone around them. The lower ninety-nine percent were the help. Simple cattle. Sheep to be herded sometimes. How many men from various countries in the last five months had Erik been around that made him want to choke the life out of them? A dozen? Two dozen? So many of them were sociopaths too, and not to mention those that made his guts crawl when they gave off pedo vibes or disgusting kinks that Erik had been privy too. A trip to Dubai found Erik sitting in a lavish home watching women flown in from America and Europe squatting over rich male faces and shitting feces into their mouths as Tony sat there trying to close an arms deal that would net him millions. Erik didn't know whether to laugh or vomit as dead-eyed twenty-somethings with augmented bodies performed kinks that shouldn't even exist. But Tony took it in stride. It was normal business to him.

The trips wouldn't be so bad if he didn't have the nagging suspicion that Devika was going to break up with him. He was already living in his own apartment away from her. He hoped that distance would make her heart grow fonder when she did see him at work, but the unpredictable hours put a dent in that. He saw her at least twice a week outside of work, and that time was only spent fucking before he was off to do Tony's bidding.

Before he left for the trip he was on now she had called him weeks before to say that her ex-fiancé had been reaching out to her and she wanted to talk to him. They left their relationship unfinished and she wanted closure.

Erik was upset. Angry.

They fought about it for weeks and stopped speaking to each other for days.

But he wanted her to handle her business. He thought it was the adult thing to do. She cried about it and the expression on her face pained him.

"I was with that man for five years, Erik. I loved him…I still love him. We were planning a life together. I can't just turn off all of that history like that."

He sat in her living room with a heated face and pressure in his chest. She still loved him?

"If you love him, then why fuck around with me? Am I your place holder or something?"

It was hard to hang onto his righteous anger when she was crying so hard. Seeing all that hurt in her face made him want to fix everything for her.

"Erik, you…I…I have feelings for you. Deep feelings. I really do. But—"

"I don't want to hear no 'buts' Devika…are you fucking him?"

"No—"

"Don't lie!"

"I'm not."

"So what do you want to do?"

He was so hot with rage that he could barely sit still. He wanted to punch in the wall. Break shit.

"I need to talk with him. Work this thing out. You don't know what it's like to share a life with someone—"

"What have I been doing with you? We lived together for almost four months—"

"Four months is not the same as five years."

"I fucking hate this shit, Devika!"

His voice thundered in the room and she covered her face with shaky hands. He was too angry to even try and comfort her.

He moved out soon after that. Gave her space and time to get herself together.

It crushed him.

He spent way too much time at the gym, doing his best not to go home to a lonely apartment. He threw himself into his work and was grateful for the long hours to keep his mind off of her.

There was an occasional check-in text, and he zoned out around her in Tony's office.

He couldn't believe how his relationship had turned to shit so fast. One minute he had a woman, and the next, he was waiting for her to make a decision because he knew that is what it came down to. Did she love Austin enough to get back with him? Get married?

Staring out of the jet window again, Erik tried to see it from Devika's point of view. She was twenty-six, had a career that provided her with a lucrative income, and Erik knew she wanted to have a family. Babies. A house in the suburbs. He was nineteen, and even though he had money in the bank thanks to card sharking for Tony and the life insurance left to him from his parents, he also had to consider his own life goal.

Revenge.

A deep sigh escaped his throat and Tony glanced up at him from his touchpad.

"You okay, kiddo?"

"Yeah."

"If you want to sleep, go take the bed in the back. I'm going to be up until we land."

"Okay."

Erik left his seat and wandered to the private sleeping quarters. Kicking off his dress shoes, he stretched out on the bed, his body still tense.

Devika wanted a regular life. He would never be able to give her that. No one really. He was just greedy for her affections, greedy for wanting to be needed by someone like her. He felt lonely, but he needed to do what she had originally told him to do: focus on his work and his dreams.

But his dreams were the replaying of nightmares in his life. She helped him forget so much.

Devika tried to give him a graceful out, one in which they could still have a friendly relationship, but he pushed her, clung to her, used her to make himself feel good.

The short trip to Atlanta went by fast, and before he knew it, Erik was driving his Porsche to Devika's condo. Her car was parked in her spot and he rode the elevator to her unit. Jamming his keys to her place into the doorknob he was ready to make peace. It had been a week since he had seen her and all he wanted to do was hug her and let her know that—

Austin stood in the kitchen drinking orange juice straight from the plastic bottle. Naked. Erik blinked his eyes rapidly.

Ain't this a bitch.

Austin turned to look at him and the smug expression on his face set Erik off.

"Devika!" Erik shouted.

He stormed over to the open bedroom and Devika ran out wearing a gray sports bra and black pajama bottoms.

"What are you doing here?"

Her eyes held surprise and the calmness in her voice made him antsy.

"I missed you. I wanted to see you—"

"Get the fuck out!"

Austin's voice startled Devika. He was at Erik's heels, his wide chest puffed out, the orange juice still his hand.

Devika's eyes looked so sad.

Erik knew what her final decision was. He didn't have to ask. She was never really his.

"I'ma leave," he said backing away from her.

Walking out of the condo, his brain whirling in his head with so many disconnected thoughts, Erik found his car and promptly dropped down to the curb and cried. Like a baby.

He cradled his face and let the tears fall as his chest rattled with deep choking sobs.

"Erik…"

Devika dropped down next to him and held him. Rocking him in her arms.

"I didn't sleep with him, Erik, I didn't sleep with him…"

He rested his face on her neck and she stroked his shoulders.

"We went out to eat and talked some things out. He was too drunk to drive, so I made him sleep on the couch."

"Devika…" he choked out.

Her watery eyes stared at him and when her tears fell, he cried even harder and clutched onto her shoulder. He dropped his head to her lap and she rubbed his back until he couldn't cry anymore. When his breathing stopped having shuddery stops and starts, he sat up and looked at her. Her face was a wet mess.

"You were right. About us. I want you, but I know I can't give you what you need. What you dream about. I'm barely twenty and this is my first job. I still have grad school, and there are things I have to get done. I wanted you to be something in my life that made me feel normal. But you want something that only Austin can give you. I was just trying to steal a little bit of it for myself. You are so smart and beautiful, Devika. You treated me with respect and you were always honest with me. I took advantage of that. I know I did. You should work things out with him if that's what you want. I won't stand in your way. I want you to be happy. I care about you so much…but I'll never be what you need."

"Shut up!"

She hugged him tight and her body shook.

"God, just shut up, Erik."

"I just need you to be my friend."

"I can do that."

He tried wiping away her tears, but she held onto his fingers. She pressed her forehead into his.

"I'm not getting back with Austin. Just so you know. Thank you for giving me the space to figure that out on my own."

"Why that nigga gotta be naked to drink some juice?"

Devika laughed loud and long and Erik joined her.

They were going to be alright. He felt it in his bones.

Chapter 22 HERE.

###

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[tomerfridman]

Tomer Fridman Luxury Real Estate Agent

In case you’re movie star real property titan Tomer Fridman, sometimes you’re helping a Kardashian drop thousands and thousands on a new mega-mansion, and other times you’re mopping up wildlife droppings.“I’ll climb into attics; if I have to, I’ll clean up coyote poop from a kitchen. I do it. I just do what it takes,” the 39-yr-old said. “You have to keep humble when dealing with high-profile people. They’re the superstar, the celebrity. Not me.”

Fridman has built a name representing the Kardashian clan’s quite a few real property deals since 2013, including the $20-million sale of a Hidden Hills home to Kim Kardashian and Kanye West.Other notable clients: Britney Spears, Jennifer Lopez, Sharon and Ozzy Osbourne, and Jessica Simpson. He additionally dealt with the $7.2-million sale of Justin Bieber’s Calabasas digs to Khloe Kardashian in 2014.

Last 12 months Fridman crushed the $one hundred-million mark for closed sales in a single 12 months as partner and executive vice president with Ewing & Associates Sotheby’s International.

Given a profession finessing offers in such rarefied air, one may anticipate a personality that veers to the cosmetic. As an alternative, Fridman possesses an authentic allure that disarms - optimum for elite clientele who reside behind guarded gates. “He’s a sweetheart of a guy, very talked-about around the enterprise,” mentioned Ewing’s founder, Roger Ewing. “He has the ability to calm emotions and works well in sophisticated negotiations with quite a lot of egos.”

After quoting Fridman’s boss, it will appear disingenuous to subsequent quote his mother. However Isidora Fridman is Tomer Fridman’s 10-year, 50/50 enterprise accomplice; both at Ewing’s Calabasas office and in a burgeoning empire the pair have built as co-house owners of Sotheby’s Israel brand. Tomer Fridman is chief executive.“Tomer’s at all times had a passion for actual estate, even method earlier than I got into the business within the Nineties,” said Isidora, who was born in Romania and raised in Israel. In the Eighties she emigrated from Israel to the San Fernando Valley with her husband, Gideon, and Tomer.

Isidora recounts a time when she asked if 10-yr-previous Tomer wished to see a movie. “He said, ‘Mom, you realize, I’d really prefer to go take a look at this new gated neighborhood in Calabasas,’” she said. “Even as a toddler, he was hooked on real estate.” The Fridmans maintain an condo in Tel Aviv. Their Tel Aviv market is a portal to European deals, key to a worldwide actual estate trade that more and more fuels Los Angeles gross sales, especially in movie star-trendy Calabasas.

The Fridmans don’t a lot handle individual clients as they navigate the labyrinthine groups behind them. “There’s loads of transferring components in these negotiations,” said Tomer, recognized for being highly protecting of clients. Added Ewing: “Tomer understands the steadiness between coming from a powerful place, and still remaining friends. This is a small community.”

So small that the Fridmans both reside amid the Kardashians in the Oaks of Calabasas. Accomplished in shades of grey, the partitions of Tomer’s postmodern digs are adorned with Joan Miro coloration dashes amid monochrome furnishings.A Tibetan mastiff would possibly really feel at dwelling amid the Philippe Starck Louis Ghost chairs. However true to his affable nature, Fridman prefers rescue canine, and both of his are mutts: Griffin and Chloe.

To maintain clients happy, he affords a concierge service, says he is more a consultant than a salesman, and is available 24/7 for anything.Fridman’s enterprise and social Real Estate Agent Tomer Fridman lives typically fuse, given his orbit around Planet Kardashian. He’s an everyday at Kris Jenner’s Christmas Eve bash, held at her Hidden Hills home. And sure, Fridman has Kim Kardashian’s emoji app, Kimoji, loaded on his iPhone.

[richardlawson]

Night Moves

My parents sold their house. The house they bought before my sister and I were born, in that weird slip of time I’m told was the late 1970s. They’re moving to Providence, city of my father’s birth, and a place where a modest condo can be bought, for two people facing next and (yes, we all must admit) maybe final chapters. Over the 4th of July holiday, I spent a teary two nights in the house, going wandering in Boston with a friend and then, just as it was time to leave for the train, taking last passes through the small expanse of the place. I cried. I made myself cry? I don’t know if the tears were real or forced or if forced tears aren’t actually real. But I did. Almost wept. My mom pulled the car out of the driveway and there was my dad, good old Dad, walking the dog up the hill, the last time I’d ever see that. I blubbed, discretely, until my mom asked me a question and then it was hard to hide. “It’s just a building,” she said, which is what I’d told myself, what my therapist had told me. It’s just a building. Just a thing that teemed with all the stuff of our lives for 40 years. And now it’s not.

The day before this goodbye, my family and I went to a wedding. My cousin’s kid got married, an assemblage of people I’d not seen in at least 20 years. It was held at a country club south of the city, and was full of that kind of straight wedding swagger I hate so much—is there no worse sight in the world than groomsmen in suits clutching bottles of beer? That effortful commitment to male casualness amidst the formalness? It speaks to such an ease, the way these men move through the world, that my sister and I were repulsed by it. During the wedding, a long and violent thunderstorm rolled in. But just before that, my family and I wandered the grounds of the country club, walked along the ridge of a hill that offered a view of the city, the whole of Boston laid out there in the hazy, humid distance. The four of us there, lined up and regarding it. It felt like a maudlin farewell. To this city we’ve all been so tethered to, just then rendered so small, so faraway. 

I traveled a lot this summer, more than I had planned. I went to Provincetown for a few nights, my new favorite place, and felt the mid-June thrill of all that. I went to Los Angeles, mostly for work—a grinding reporting assignment that has yet to bear fruit but still could be something good, I hope—but also to see my sister. She’s so good at day trips, feeling so blessed with a car, and we drove up to Ojai, spent a late morning and early afternoon in its clenching, clean heat. We hiked a short distance to a waterfall, where barefoot kids were laughing and dogs were shuffling around. We went into town, roaming an outdoor used bookstore where I searched for my own book and, as ever, came up short. I’d heard so much about Ojai and, while finding it beautiful, was surprised by how little it offered. “You have to be rich to enjoy it,” I said to my sister as we got back in her car and, sealed up in the air conditioning, drove back to the city. 

In Los Angeles, I spent a lot of time holed up in my hotel, a once-trendy place on the Sunset Strip that has a thumping pool club and is just the right amount of uncomfortable to feel cool. It’s a full-service place, so I could take my meals there, do drinks on the patio, barely leave the confines of it. I went a little crazy, swaddled up in the gray blanket of that place—its easy, healthy-ish, sour food, its lukewarm sauvignon blanc mood. I felt like I was there for a whole long Shining winter, growing a beard and going insane and locating some truer kernel of myself than I’d ever known existed. I let myself skitter out into the night on occasion, to see friends and revel, just a bit, in the riot of a city I hate. (I’m sorry, L.A. friends. I have tried so hard to like Los Angeles, but it makes me so stressed and unhappy and full of constant Sunday Scaries that I have to hate it. That said, I can’t wait to visit again.) But mostly I was alone, conducting halting interviews on the phone, pacing around in my cold room while tall trees fluttered in the balcony window. One uneasy afternoon, I watched a bug crawl around the enormous beanbag chair the hotel provided and figured it knew what to do with this lump of furniture more than I did. 

I just got back from Fire Island, another place I have tried to love and—unlike L.A.—might finally be done with. What a dream of an idea that place is, and yet in execution, or at least in my admittedly narrow experience of it, what a drab and horny and exhausting thing it actually is. I don’t fit in there at all, which is a strange sensation for someone who has prided himself on being able to adapt, to quickly recover, to renegotiate physical and social spaces as needed. Fire Island, the Pines in particular, is a bridge past a bridge too far, I’m afraid. Not because I don’t admire its moxie, its Speedo tan-ness, its louche, buggy reverie. I love that people love it. I just feel sad that Fire Island is something like Paris—a beautiful dream I’ll never be able to actually step into, that I’ll never feel filling me like air, like smoke. (I Juul now—another life update.) But it’s good to have that conclusion—to know, because of increasing adulthood and experience, that it, hey, just isn’t for me. I wish it the best. I wanted to blow a kiss to the island as the ferry puttered away back toward Sayville. Goodbye, place! Goodbye, dream! Goodbye all you wonderful people who partied and yearned and grieved and fucked and fell in love there. See you in Ptown, maybe. All you lively ghosts, living and dead.

Fall trips loom. Film festivals, which are so much fun. I’m going to Venice for the first time, next week, and I am so stressed and excited and curious. I booked an Airbnb that’s not near the movies, that’s on the main island with all the canals and handsome gondoliers and luring, leering pasta. (My Fire Island diet nearly killed me, readers.) I chose holistic life experience over festival ease in booking that place and I hope I don’t regret it. And then it’s straight on to Toronto, a festival I love, a town I am growing to like, with people I know and with whom I’m so ready to pretend it’s summer camp again. Fall camp. Autumn camp. What a good time that will be.

But it will keep me away. I’ve been away so much this year, which has been exhilarating—I gave an award out on stage at a loud gay discotheque in Guadalajara, Mexico!—but also lonely, and denying. The thing I’ve sort of stylistically held for the end here is that I fell in love this year, and while it’s a new-ish, only nine-month relationship (“We have a baby,” I said to Andrew tonight), it’s still a totalizing thing. It’s impossible to look at all of this—parents moving, cities roiling, islands churning—not through the lens of that. How terrifically grounded I have felt this year, to something good and happy and intimate and huge in its smallness. This is the first time I’ve really written about him—a scientist, a smiler, a kind and gentle person who calms me and encourages me—and it feels a little scary to type it out. But there he is, suddenly a center. 

When I was home over the 4th, my mom told my sister and me a story about our cousin, the one whose kid got married at the country club. I guess when this cousin was little, a toddler maybe, she would often say, “I need something.” Just that. That quiet little unspecific thing. “I need something,” she’d say in a small voice, tugging at pant legs and looking up at the adults hoping they’d understand and satisfy whatever it was she was asking for. I’ve thought about that a lot since my mom told us about it, there in the backyard I’ll never see again. I need something. I need something! I NEED SOMETHING! 

Of course we all do. Need something. Need so many things. I get corny, thinking about it. I want to say what a mad and blissful and terrible adventure it is, to go chasing after that need. It is. But, again, that’s hokey. So I guess I’ll just end this ramble with a little moment, from Fire Island. I went to bed early one night, and was half asleep when some of the boys of tea came home. I heard them rumbling around upstairs in the living room, muffled laughter and bottles opening. It reminded me of being a kid in the house I grew up in, that will now be lived in by a nice family from Framingham who wrote a heartening letter to my parents about how much they loved the house. That feeling of life happening just beyond the light under the door. And maybe it is. But in that room on Fire Island that night, there was also the beautiful dark, also the hum of the air conditioner, the whine of the mosquito, and there was me, breathing and blinking and alive. That was so much, too. 

[kumkaniudaku]

She Said ___?

Warnings: Smut (18 +)

Ah, date night, the cornerstone of healthy relationships. 

For you and Chadwick, date nights came in random spurts. For the first three six weeks of your relationship, Saturday’s were set aside for both of you to turn off your devices and focus on each other. No distractions and no extra people; only the comfort of each other’s company. Unfortunately, the routine couldn’t continue this way forever.

The last month and a half was clouded with irregular work schedules, constant traveling and spotty physical interaction. If Chadwick wasn’t on a plane to promote or film, you were in another WNBA city to assist your team. In six weeks, you had only seen Chadwick three times, each of them when he was dozing from the activities of the day.

After a week of what-ifs, Saturday’s date night was set in stone. Despite hopping on a red-eye from Minnesota to Los Angeles and arriving to your condo only four hours before your next scheduled work day, the excitement of seeing your man carried you through the end of the week.

Standing in the kitchen of your condo, that energy twisted your wrist in time with with your hips to “Caught Up in the Rapture” by Anita Baker as you stirred the muffin mixture in front of you.

“I love you here by me, baby. You let my love fly free. I want you in my life for all time. Damn, Anita, we sound good,” you complimented at the end of the bridge. Anita’s sultry voice and the infectious melody of the song set the perfect mood for a quiet evening dinner.

Depositing the homemade mixture into a muffin pan, you continued to sing as visions of Chadwick ran circles in your mind. You thought of what he smelled like the last time you saw him and how his lips felt against your cheeks before he left. His gapped smile made you grin as if he were there for you to see him person. You missed him in a way that you didn’t think was possible.

When you caught a glimpse of your attire in the full length mirror leading to the living room, you did a pose to thoroughly examine yourself. The black, strapless “Luciana” dress was simple but form fitting, contouring your body in all the right places. Your feet remained bare to uphold the integrity of your white rugs and to show off your fresh pedicure. Chadwick’s favorite hairstyle, the braidout he saw you in when he crashed your housewarming party in Atlanta, sat just above your shoulders from a fresh wash and trim. If he didn’t think you were fine, he had to have gone blind in his time away.

You split your time between setting up the living room and watching the food in the kitchen as you waited for the doorbell to ring. Instead, the spare key jingling in the lock alerted you to a visitor. Chadwick shrugged his jacket off of his shoulders in record time before carefully placing the garment on the coat rack.

“Sunshine! Where you at?”

“In the kitchen, dear,” you cooed, rolling your eyes at the use of one of your many pet names.

Heavy feet that you prayed were free of shoes beat against the floor of your home until his tall frame rounded the corner into the open space. A split second exchange of wide smiles led to an all out rush to scoop you into his arms. The moment his body connected with yours, invisible sparks communicated the sheer excitement between you two. Your fingers danced in his coiled mane as you held his head close your chest before dropping your head to signal for a kiss. He spun you in a slow circle, pressing his lips against yours in rapid pecks.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured against your mouth as he gently placed you on the ground. His forehead pressed against yours to get a good look at your face. His arms crossed at the wrist around your waist, barely containing the urge to run his palms against the curve of your behind. “How’s my girl? You look good.”

“Better now that you’re here.” Your face screwed as you groaned, causing Chadwick to raise his eyebrows in curiosity. “Oh my God, that was so corny. Look at what you’re doing to me.”

“No, don’t blame me! You’ve been a closet cornball all this time, just waiting for someone to bring it out of you. Face it, you’ve fallen in love with the country boy you swore you didn’t want to be friends with.”

His cheeky grin made you roll your eyes in response though the smile on your face made your true feelings clear. He was right. “Oh shut up. You ready to eat?”

“Depends on what’s on the menu,” He flirted, lightly tapping your butt as you walked away. “You and this dress are about to introduce us to parenthood in about nine months.”

“Then you can be a daddy and a daddy.” Your stress on the second ‘daddy’ made his eyebrow quirk as he took a seat at the table. “So, how was filming? Tell me all about it.”

“There isn’t much to say about it, baby. Five AM call times, craft services, you know, the usual. I need a hot shower and a chest to lay on so I can actually get a good night’s rest. One day, I’m gonna take you with me.”

“I keep telling you I can’t just leave my job to follow you around the world. That’s a privilege reserved for wives, remember?”

“Yeah but, it’s worth a try.”

You planted a kiss on his puckered lips while sliding his plate in front of him. The steam wafting from the fresh, stuffed salmon and vegetables on the dish set off a series of quiet rumbles in his abdomen to remind him of what he missed during his absence. His mostly vegan diet would have to take a backseat tonight. Your plate was the next to hit the glass surface of your small dining table before the blessing was presented and dinner could officially commence.

Conversation flowed effortlessly, moving from work to family, a trace amount of celebrity gossip and back to work with no issues. Chadwick listened with a smile as you recounted office spats and a grueling flight schedule that introduced you to the flight attendant from hell.

“Then, she acted like she didn’t see my light on and walked right past me three times. You know I try to be nice-”

“Do you,” he questioned with his hand on his chest and an incredulous look on his face. 

“I said try,” you laughed along with Chadwick. “But, she was really burnin’ my biscuits!”

He nearly choked on his water to stifle his laugh, “Baby, what does that mean?”

“Burnin’ my biscuits? You know...she was making me upset. C’mon, you never heard that one?”

“Never. And I’m supposed to be the country one!”

“Anyway, that’s been my week so far. People getting on my last damn nerve and counting the days until you could come back to me.”

“Well,” he started, grabbing your left hand and running the pad of his thumb over your bare ring finger. “I’m here now. We can pick up where we left off.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you turned your head to hide your smile. Had you stared any longer, eating dinner would have surely turned into something much more adult against the dining room table.

“You gon’ help me wash the dishes? The faster we get this done, the quicker we can get to the fun stuff.”

“I like where this is headed. What kind of fun stuff,” he questioned while standing up to follow you into the kitchen. He remained hot on your heels until his chest was pressed against your back and trapping you against the sink. His fingers traced circles from the top of your thighs until they clasped across your stomach.

“Season three of Grey’s of course!” You peeked over your shoulder to find him rolling his eyes. “Oh, so, now you don’t wanna watch Grey’s Anatomy?”

“I was hoping to look at your anatomy but, we can binge if you want. Just let me go grab something from up front.”

“Baby,” you whined as he placed a kiss on your bare shoulder before starting his journey to the front door. “We agreed on no phones during our private time.”

“I’m just texting my mama to tell her I’m back and then I’m all yours, okay?”

You grumbled an okay, not able to to offer a rebuttal. What kind of person would you be to complain about him texting his mother?

While you cleaned the kitchen, Chadwick fought to get his heartbeat under control. His fingers trembled as he held the Cartier box in his hand, wondering if now was the right moment. He spent the better part of four weeks battling his inner self over the decision to customize the jewelry in the expensive package and present it to you. He was sure of his feelings, and he felt like he was sure of yours. Still, nothing could prepare him for whatever reaction awaited him.

“Hey, baby. H-how do feel about marriage,” he called from his spot near the coat rack.

You cocked your head back at the abrupt nature of what you assumed was a random question.

“To you or in general?”

“Start with in general.”

Chadwick took a deep breath and stuffed the box into the back pocket of his dark wash denim before returning to the kitchen. Taking one look at your brown skin absorbing the light of the room was all he needed to go through with his plan.

“I mean, marriage is beautiful. If you love someone that much, why wouldn’t you spend the rest of your life with them? What is life if you don’t have someone to share it with, ya know? At least that’s how I look at it.”

“Do you see yourself being married?”

You took a moment to smile at the fairytale you created from the moment you could understand the basic concept of love. “Yeah...I do. One day, I guess. At least I hope. Time seems like it’s winding down for me though.”

Hearing the words leave their private space in your brain made your muscles tense in response. You expected to be married well before this point in your life. Your career was set in stone, dating was rarely an issue and, yet, your ring finger was still empty. The comments from nosey aunts and family friends only created a complex and made you wonder if you were marriage material. Were you too independent for a man to find you suitable? Why were you worried about a man’s approval in the first place? You were an amazing woman without the title of wife...right? All of these questions and more ran in a constant loop whenever your mind would drift.

Chadwick took in your words and removed the box from his pocket. The time was right. He didn’t need anyone to tell him because he felt it. Through the jitters and rapid heartbeat, he could feel God giving him the okay to continue.

“What about marrying...me?”

“Aaron, you know how I-” your words dissolved into a soft gasp as you turned to face him.

His big brown eyes, the eyes you imagined on your future children and the eyes that always seemed to look into your soul, gazed at you with a fire of hope burning behind them. On one knee, he knelt to ask you the one question you never thought you’d hear.

“It’s been a long time for us, right,” he laughed to release some of his nerves. “I know that I love you. I’ve known for way too long. I should’ve done this when you were keeping me sane in New York but, I wanted you to have the best and I couldn’t give it to you. I waited too long but, God gave me the chance to get it right. It’s only been three months officially but, it feels like a lifetime. When I’m away from you, you’re all I can think about. I make decisions based on us now and I’ve never done that for any woman before. I want you to have my last name and be beside me through all the good and bad shit that life throws at us. All I need is your permission. Will you...marry me?”

“Are you being serious?” The moment the question left your lips, you knew that your doubt was unfounded. Still, you needed to know.

“Of course I’m being serious. I got a bad knee. I wouldn’t be down here just to play around, Tasha. If the answer is no, just tell me. I won’t be mad.”

“Yes!”

“Yes the answer is no or y-”

“Yes, I’ll marry you!”

Your mad dash toward him provided enough time for him to stuff the box into his pocket and welcome you into his arms. Your lips connected in a kiss laced in passion and love, fitting together like the final pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. His large hands pressed against your behind to push your body closer to his as he explored your mouth with his tongue. You traced tight circles at the nape of his neck while you moaned into the kiss from happiness and the growing arousal. Chadwick was the first to pull away, sporting a goofy grin as he watched your eyes flutter open.

“Can I put the ring on you now or would you rather we skip that part?”

“Ring,” you questioned in your daze. “Oh y-yeah, the ring...let’s do that.”

He chuckled at your stutter as he retrieved the item in question from his pocket. Gripping your wrist, he pulled your hand to press a kiss against your knuckles.

“Just to be sure, Tasha Nicole Green, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Yes today, tomorrow and everyday after that. Yes!”

Your feet danced in anticipation as he opened the box to reveal the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen. Nestled in the ivory lining of the box sat the oval Cartier Destinée Solitaire ring that you fawned over during a quick shopping trip. You didn’t even know that he was watching you because you never said a word. Now, here it was, sliding onto your finger as if were made specifically for you. You couldn’t help but stare at the ring with wide eyes as it sparkled in the light.

“Do you like it?”

“It...it’s beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

“You said everything I need you to say,” he pressed a long kiss your lips. “All I wanna hear after this is you moaning my name. Hearing it over the phone the other night wasn’t good enough.”  

______________

Moonlight and the R&B playlist from your phone swathed your bodies as they created a song and dance of pure love. Chadwick hands pressed against the back of your knees to keep your legs steady while he moved in and out of your body at a tantalizing pace. As much as your whines and whimpers urged him to speed up, he wanted this moment, this feeling, to last forever.

He watched your slick entrance stretch to accommodate him, nearly pushing him out as your walls clamped around him. You were close for the second time and he was ready to give you the release you’d been begging for.

Releasing his grip on your legs, he placed your ankles on his waist and leaned into your body. His lips kissed across the top of your breast to your throat, nipping and sucking at the spots he knew you would react to. When he reached your ear, his kissed the spot below the lobe before whispering into it.

“You feel so good, baby. Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you gasped as his hips snapped against yours. His short strokes came with a force that rocked your entire body. “Please...don’t stop.”

He took a moment to stop sucking at the sensitive skin on your neck to lock eyes with you. Your request was simple but had the power to drive him absolutely insane. He’d been with other women, some proclaimed to be fantastic lovers, but none held a candle to you and the way you made him feel. Your voice calling his name in reaction to his hips winding into yours in time with Any Time, Any Place sent him to Heaven and back. To slow the building eruption in his lower abdomen, he closed his eyes for a moment to focus on his movements.

Your ankles locked at the small of his back, sending him deeper inside of you as you continued to moan his name. Words were hard to come by, resulting in the chanting of praises for your man. He looked down at you with his pupils blown wide in response to the stimulation and bottom lip drawn between his teeth. He loved seeing your eyes rolled back in pleasure as your back arched off the bed, pressing your hardened nipples into his broad chest. The sting in your legs only increased when he pressed his chest into yours to push your back against the bouncing mattrea and intertwine your fingers with his. Your engagement ring caught the moonlight and created a spectrum of colors on the wall across the room.

“I love you, Tasha.”

“Ooooh...I-I love you, too. I’m - I’m-”

“Do it with me, baby. Let it go. Let me hear you.”

His grunts and groans seamlessly combined with yours as both of you came. Your legs trembled with each additional stroke, contributing to the ringing in your ears and black specks clouding your vision. He continued to snap his hips into yours, leaving him throbbing inside of you. When he was completely empty, he pulled his face from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. Chadwick waited for your breathing to slow down and your eyes to open before he attacked your lips with kisses and murmured thanks.

“Let’s get married tonight. How long is it from here to Vegas,” you laughed from your spot underneath his body.

“Why so soon?”

“If this is a sin and it feels this good, imagine what married sex is like. I need to know like, right now. C’mon, go start the car!”

“Uh uh, slow down,” he answered, pushing your body back to the mattress when you tried to sit up. “We’re gonna do this the right way. My mama will kick my ass if I got married and she wasn’t there. Then she’d kick yours when I tell her it was your idea.”

“You’d snitch on me that quick?”

“Is it snitchin’ if it’s the truth,” you giggled along with your fiance as he moved to roll off of you. He propped his head up with his hands and allowed the other to drape across your waste. Turning to face him, you brought your hand up to caress his face and accept a kiss to your palm. “One year. Give us one year to put together the wedding you deserve.”

“You sound like you’ve been planning without me.”

“Something like that. I have a planner picked out already. She has some ideas that I think you’ll like. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll set up a dress fitting in whatever boutique you choose.”

“Baby,” the tears that you managed to hold in during the proposal slid down your cheeks in appreciation. Your lips found his in a soft kiss as he used his thumb to wipe the damp area under your eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Buuut, we can talk about this in the morning. Tonight,” he started, pulling your body on top of his, “is for more anatomy. What season are we on again?”

“Three, I think.”

His hands pushed your hips forward to motion toward his face, “Season 3, huh? That means you owe me a least what, three more orgasms?”

“I don’t really see how that correl-ooooh shit.”

His tongue and lips against your center brought forth an uncontrollable shiver against his face. It took his fingers pressing into the small of your back to start up a grinding motion while he groaned and smacked during his meal. He was working on orgasm number two and, dammit, you were gonna give it to him.

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[citrusfreshh]

Manhattan Beach House Cleaning Services: Get Your Home Clean

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[bentsen14weiner-blog]

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Andy and his crew got in my place earlier than expected and needed to work straight away without wasting any time. Stars Your place of residence may change a couple of times, but the competent help remains your greatest buddy without end. We'd actually advocate discovering 3-four properly really helpful moving companies before you progress on to step 2. After all, you could not be able to get recommendations of 3-four movers from your mates and household. Could 2: “How to construct a robust Small Business Web site,” 6-8:30 p.m., Rancho Santiago Group School District 2323 N Broadway, Room 107, Santa Ana. When you are transferring regionally it's necessary to trust in movers who have a familiarity with the community and is capable of maneuvering within the streets efficiently. Ed, Jamel, Ruben were high quality guys; who labored quickly, efficiently and maintained care in handling all of the furnishings! While the supporters of present privatization efforts have been bipartisan, so have the criticisms from liberal and conservative people and groups who fear private firms violating the legislation in pursuit of revenue. Mix all this with our warehouse and storage choices and also you won’t have to fret about a factor in your next transfer.

If you’re trying to take the family somewhere a bit of different the Medieval Instances Dinner & Tournament is just the thing. In the event you'd like to take advantage of a storage service, our agent can assist. There’s no curfew, but they must respect quiet hours — and take their medications. Moved from a second flooring condo to a different second floor house 50 miles apart in below 5 hours in ninety diploma heat. Two trucks and six movers showed up on time and labored for 12 hours to get us moved from Fullerton to Dana Level. Ninety nine to maneuver from level A to point B, so long as each areas are in Orange County. Our important motive is to make your worldwide transfer as straightforward and seamless as attainable because they very nicely perceive that shifting to a new nation could be extremely hectic and tense. High quality staying mare WHEAL LEISURE (9) resumes and she will be able to run well fresh.

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Acclaimed Anaheim Movers has years of experience performing residential and business strikes in, and round, the Anaheim space. This was One of the best shifting expertise. We are the perfect affordable movers in California. Treating the three movers to lunch appeared like "grabbing a chunk" with mates - you must make it happen, being greatest. Why Galaxy's Edge would have three entrances: It aligns with the mannequin unveiled at Disney's D23 Expo. This offers many head-of-family jobs, which plays an element in why we transfer so many individuals to Orange County. That is why so many purchasers shifting to Anaheim from San Diego choose Coleman Allied as their mover. Located just 25 miles southeast of Los Angeles, Anaheim has the same Mediterranean local weather as the rest of Southern California, with mild to heat winters, and scorching summers. Not all moving providers are the identical. Using the exact same technology to inform a considerably different story? So if you’re able to make your move, SMARTBOX is ready too!

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[freewayinsurance]

What’s Involved in Using Your Home or Vacation Property as a Short-Term Rental?

You only use your California Wine Country cabin for two weeks out of the year. Or you have an entire floor of your main residence you rarely step into. Or you’re in an economic crunch and need help paying your rent. Whatever the situation, you’re considering turning your vacation property or residence into a short-term rental home to pick up some extra cash. What are the ramifications, including the possible effect on your homeowners insurance? How do you go about making money this way?

Let’s get some straight answers, starting with a basic definition.

What is a Short-Term Rental Home?

Think Airbnb or lesser-known competitors such as HomeAway or Vrbo. All might have different rules and regulations, but basically, these are all online platforms through which you can rent out your home to screened strangers for a day, a week, or even several days a month. You can do it on an occasional basis, or regularly.

This might be possible whether you own a house, a cabin in the woods, a condo on the beach, an apartment, a houseboat, or virtually any other form of living space.

Of course, you must first see if your homeowners association, or condo board approves of using the property in this way. Then check whether city zoning regulations or other local ordinances allow it. This could mean a bit of research, a trip to city hall, and paperwork to fill out.

Assuming you have no bureaucratic hurdles in your way, it’s a matter of preparing your residence for short-term rentals, promoting the property, checking to see whether your guests will be covered by your home insurance, and setting a rate, among other responsibilities.

How Much Can You Make Turning Your Property into a Short-Term Rental Home?

There are multiple factors that determine a rental rate that will get you guests and turn a profit. These include the size and condition of your space, the desirability of the location, and what the local market bears for similar rentals.

Depending on the rate you can charge per night, Airbnb can be a lucrative way to expand your income stream. On its website, Airbnb currently says that “hosts” in the Los Angeles area earn an average of $240 a night. Hosting an average of 24 nights a month might theoretically gross a whopping $5,760 a month.

Of course, you’ll make much more with a lovely home in a prime neighborhood in Los Angeles, San Francisco, or San Diego than you might with a congested fixer-upper in a small town outside of the Golden State’s main travel and tourist destinations. Or if you only want to rent out your residence while on your annual two-week vacation. Or you wish to only rent a room rather than the entire property.

In other words, there are multiple factors involved in figuring the rate you can charge and the sort of monthly or annual income you’ll derive from your short-term rental home.

You might start by finding properties on rental websites similar to yours in location, size, and condition to set your rates accordingly. Or use the Airbnb rate calculator as a starting point.

So Turning Your Property into a Short-Term Rental is a Financial No-Brainer, Right?

Just because you can get a certain rate doesn’t always mean that you should. In some circumstances, you might consider whatever you make to be bonus money that you otherwise wouldn’t have seen.

But on the other hand, there are costs you can’t avoid. You might need to hire a cleaning service, buy extra linens and towels, put your valuables under lock and key, hire a photographer to shoot your property for promotional purposes, design and print a household information brochure, and make other investments in time and capital before your first rental, and on an ongoing basis.

Then There’s Your Home Insurance Policy to Consider

If you take a quick look at your insurance policy, you’ll probably see that it covers damages to the home by visitors or injuries to them. But that’s usually not the case if you’re regularly renting your living spaces to strangers for profit.

You’re likely to need to add an endorsement to your policy, at an additional cost.

You might hear about California homeowners making thousands of dollars a month as short-term landlords, but there are also cautionary tales about renters throwing illegitimate parties and virtually tearing the property down.

What that means is that you don’t dare neglect to first discuss your coverage needs with your insurance agent. Explain what you intend to do, and find out the additional cost of adding liability insurance and other benefits to your policy. Do this before making any commitment.

If it increases your financial exposure to put and keep your property on the short-term rental market, it might not make much sense. On the other hand, if you have a desirable home and location, and you can earn a high rate at minimal risk and labor, Airbnb might represent a handsome second income or a way to save for an expensive vacation or big-ticket item.

Find Affordable Home Insurance Quotes Online Today

Your first step should always be to contact your independent insurance agent at Freeway Insurance. Find out what effect your short-term rental home plans will have on your home insurance policy. Find a fast and free home insurance quote online, call us at (800) 777-5620 or check out our California locations page to find an agent near you for an in-person meeting.

[neatocleaning12]

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[bretnewball]

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People on a busy routine are often also active to do far more than a precursory cleansing of their apartment or condo, condominium or home. This gives great advantage to house cleaners. These wonderful individuals are comprehensive, pleasant and efficient in their jobs. They are well educated and have lots of experience to do service.

Home cleaning company in Dallas are fantastic. The places that are found in this wonderful area are there for the ease of the consumers. They offer versatile scheduling for your comfort. Their friendly staff will come to your door in a timely manner as well as listen to the needs of the job. As soon as they have actually been given their guidelines as well as do not bother the customer until they are done, they obtain right to work. Many use a position on their website to give responses. This lets them understand exactly how they have actually done, Colomba BG and it aids them to enhance their cleansing. They also have optional bonus such as changing the toilet paper, paper towels and also trash bin liners. There are some in this field that additionally supply a quarterly window cleaning for a tiny added fee.

Home cleansing services in Chicago are awesome. Their apartment cleaning solutions do not require any type of finalizing of contracts and also most supply a 100% warranty that if the work is not to your fulfillment after that they will remodel the areas missed out on.

Condominium cleansing services are also readily available to clients in areas such as Dallas, Los Angeles, New York as well as Chicago. Many of the firms that use apartment or condo cleaning solutions are bound and also guaranteed so that if any kind of accident were to occur they will take complete duty for the replacement.

A lot of the apartment cleansing work provide specifics such as cleansing, dusting, polishing wood furnishings, vacuum, wiping, combing corners, sweeping, counter tops, sinks scoured, obtaining the waste, washing and even altering the bed linens on the beds. There is even home window cleaning for most consumers without any additional costs. Some business that have routine routines with their customers do not require a fee for added demands such as cleaning up the moving glass ovens, doors or baseboards.

Apartment cleaning rates are reasonably low also. They balance from $35 a hr with a first beginning cost at about ten dollars extra, to bigger apartments as much as three bed rooms beginning at roughly $50.00 to $60.00 a hr. Reviewing the testimonials you will certainly find out that many are well worth the cash invested and also your house will come to be the beaming allure that it was when relocated into.

These same house cleaning services Los Angeles use 100% green as well as eco-friendly items. They do not make use of the very same dustcloths on different homes.

House cleansing services in Dallas are excellent. Their apartment cleansing solutions do not require any kind of signing of contracts as well as most provide a 100% assurance that if the task is not to your contentment after that they will redo the areas missed.

Many of the companies that provide apartment or condo cleansing solutions are adhered as well as guaranteed so that if any accident were to occur they will take full responsibility for the substitute.

Several of the house cleansing tasks offer specifics such as cleaning, cleaning, brightening wood furniture, vacuum cleaner, wiping, combing corners, sweeping, counter tops, sinks scoured, taking out the rubbish, doing the laundry and also altering the linens on the beds. These exact same home cleaning services Los Angeles use 100% naturally degradable and environment-friendly products.

[ayearofpike]

Remember Me 2: The Return

Pocket Books, 1994 210 pages, 16 chapters + epilogue ISBN 0-671-87265-6 LOC: unknown (catalog down as I wrote this) OCLC: 30986560 Released September 1, 1994 (per B&N)

Shari Cooper, having passed into the light after her untimely death, is learning to be one with the universe and accept it with love and grace. It makes her a perfect candidate to return to the realm of the living — only she’s not going to have such an easy, pampered life. Rather, she’ll have to take on the life and struggles of a downtrodden minority who has given up, and work to improve the lot of everyone in her circle.

So here’s the one that Pike said he should have refused, that the publisher talked him into a sequel but in retrospect it damaged the story. But ... I don’t hate it? I know, that last entry was super vitriolic and angry about sequels and Pike’s slide into essentially irrelevance. Still, I was surprised that this book is not totally horrible — save one major racial problem that we’ll get to.

One thing that definitely annoys me about this book: the new die-cut covers. When I picked this one up at the store, I thought it was the awesomest thing: extra-spooky typeface that shows the art THROUGH it rather than just a generic script along the margins? But then I got the next one and stuck it on the bookshelf by this one, and the back cover caught the fingers of the E and PFFFTT. It took them a couple years to catch on and just print it, which, while a kludge, is preferable to the six or however many torn ones I have.

But narrative-construction-wise (as opposed to physical-construction-wise) the book actually holds up. Pike alternates between the first-person consciousness of Shari and the third-person observation of Jean Rodrigues, a poor and unmotivated but hot Latina living in the projects in Los Angeles. It’s not really a spoiler to say that Shari ends up taking over Jean’s body, and the realization marks a nice in-time shift in descriptive perspective as she suddenly understands that “she” is “I.”

So how the hell am I going to summarize this, considering the construction and flipping between astral plane and physical realm is what makes this book work? I guess you’re just going to have to trust me, and read it if you want. I’m going to punch through the world beyond the light first and then come back to Jean, even though it’s her who opens the novel.

We know Shari’s dead, and we know she planned to go into the light at the close of events of the last novel. Our first encounter with her here has her talking with a more-enlightened being, who acts as a teacher and a guide to help Shari understand that the love she gave and the services she rendered are the more important elements of her life, beyond the expensive house and the indulgent parents and the fucking Ferrari. As she starts to get it, he suggests that she should become a Wanderer — a soul that takes over a living body rather than being reborn from the beginning and works to make things better. She’s interested, but she also wants to talk to Peter before she goes back.

Yeah, remember Peter? Well, I never said his name in the first summary —  the spirit guide who loved her in life. He was able to get through too. He overcame his fear that he wasn’t good enough, and now he’s on the eternal plane with Shari. They construct the prom that they never went to, but just before they can get it on in the hotel room afterwards Peter lets his body get ripped open by the alien xenomorph that he decides to turn into as a joke. I have to admit it’s funny, but it highlights what Peter might still be afraid of: love, intimacy, getting too close, not being good enough still. So instead of boning, they explore the stars, and there’s some metaphysical shit about a black hole and how everything is interconnected that makes Shari realize she’s ready to be alive again and start making a difference.

Of course Peter wants to go too, but the fact that he killed himself is going to be an obstacle. These fears that he can’t quite release, and the circumstances of his death, mean that he’ll be resurrected into a body that is less than whole. Peter’s willing to take the hit, and the teacher accepts because he senses Peter’s love is pure. Also, the teacher lets them know that they’ll need some kind of a shock to the system in order to remember what they know about the cosmos, but even if they don’t they’ll still know they have some kind of higher purpose.

So now I’ve gotta jump all the way back to the beginning and talk about Jean. We get more male-gazey description of this hot brown mamacita, but I wasn’t quite as grossed out this time because her looks are the only thing Jean likes about herself. She’s down on her prospects, down on school, down on her family and what her life might turn into — because she’s pregnant with her boyfriend’s kid at 18. And tonight is his birthday party, and she’s going to tell him.

The birthday boy is Lenny Mandez, a gang dropout who finished high school at 20 and is trying to get clean but still has too many connections. He lives in a ramshackle house on a hill surrounded by oil wells, dirty but good enough to get wasted at. And I don’t really like the fact that the first time we have a whole cast of Latinxs they’re gang-bangers and dopeheads and dropouts — but the picture is real. I had plenty of friends and coworkers as a young food service employee in the Southwest who felt like this was their ceiling, this was all they could get, this was all they should aspire to. Which is part of why this story starts to piss me off later, but we’ll get to that.

So Jean tells Lenny about the baby, he’s less than thrilled, but then there’s a meeting. Kind of parallel to what happened in the first book, only with fewer people. It seems that a friend just got gunned down in a drive-by, and his girl wants revenge. She and Lenny are planning everything out, Jean’s best friend (who is a lesbian but again, don’t be squicked out, kids in 1994, because she totally doesn’t hit on Jean or anything!) doesn’t want to get involved, and Jean really doesn’t want them to pursue this. Why do they drive themselves down, Jean asks? Why can’t they aspire to anything better? Nobody’s hearing it, so she goes out on the balcony (because, sure, there’s a balcony in a two-bedroom house in the projects) to pray for help and understanding.

And the thing collapses out from under her.

She wakes up in the hospital three days later, with a concussion and several broken bones. Her mom is there and just breaks down out of happiness, because there was no sign that she would ever wake up until just a little bit before she did. She had a miscarriage too, which ... is sort of glossed over and forgotten quickly. But Lenny was on the balcony too, and he broke his back, severed the spinal cord and will probably never walk again, and now he just wants to die.

See, maybe I gave away too much too soon by breaking the story down the way I did.

But anyway, Jean suddenly feels less selfish and more giving, and she wants to help. She starts volunteering in the hospital as soon as she’s well enough, and has crazy ideas for stories about aliens and monsters and things. (Because evidently the best way to give your family and community a leg up is to become a horror and sci-fi writer. Getting less and less sly as we go along, Pike.) One of her patients (who is dying of leukemia, because everything old is new again) actually inspires her first short story, a tale of a successful writer whose muse wants in on the action and starts blackmailing her, which includes this frustrating little nugget.

But Jean isn’t satisfied just being her new self. Something is drawing her away from the hood and out to the rich developments. She takes a bus to Huntington Beach and walks with no goal in mind until she finds a bloodstain on the concrete by a condo. The property manager assumes she’s a friend of the poor girl who fell to her death the previous year and helps her find the family house, which of course she goes straight to and finds Shari’s brother moving out. She gets him to let her help in exchange for a ride home, and after reading the short story at the grave of her patient she feels compelled to go see him right away.

He lets her in and they immediately start talking about the dead sister. They’re both unnerved, but they keep going because something compels them. In fact, the brother reveals that he has a file on his computer that he’s never shared with anyone — a story written while he was sleepwalking that tells about his sister’s death and the events around it. Jean starts reading it, but she doesn’t have to finish because of course she wrote it. She is Shari. Shari is her. Shari has taken over Jean’s body in light of her prayer for help.

And this right here is where I get pissed. Like, Pike has constructed the realistically untenable situation of undereducated Latinxs in America. He’s written it with ... well, if not tenderness and understanding, then at least care and consideration. And he’s got a protagonist who wants to help her family and her community rise up and get out of the problematic cycle. BUT THEN. As soon as Jean Rodrigues realizes she’s Shari Cooper, the whole fuckin’ community goes out the window and Shari takes over and wants to try to reconstruct her old life. I mean, yeah, she gives some lip service to where she came from, but right away she’s like, yeah, let’s see my birth mom, let’s get my old best friend in here, let’s find the detective who cracked the case. 

More than that: we’re getting a white savior story. Yes, this was many years before we understood the problems endemic to this trope, but still, that’s what it is. It requires the soul of a white girl going into the body of a Latina for her to want to start improving herself and her situation. It didn’t bother me then, because hey actual brown people in YA lit, take what I can get. But now? It bugs the fuckin’ shit out of me.

But Shari/Jean does actually still care about Lenny. Knowing she’s Shari, she’s surprised by the depth of feeling she has for him. (I mean, we’re not, because I gave away the reveal already.) What’s more, she still wants him to live a meaningful life beyond vengeance. Word is he’s gotten out of the hospital and out of rehab, and is mobile in a wheelchair, and is tracking down a gun. Shari/Jean knows what that means, and she goes to collect him and get him out of the projects to meet her new/old brother. 

Lenny is surprisingly amenable to going with her — but only because it’s Jean that he’s going after the whole time, and now he’ll have ample opportunity to kill her away from where people know her and will suspect. See, he knows that he used protection every time they had sex, so he knows he can’t be the father of the (now-non) baby, and so she must have cheated on him. In fact, he figured it was his best friend, based on their prior relationship, and so he got the dude into the rival turf so that he’d be a target. And now he’s going to end Jean, who doesn’t love him and never did, and save a bullet for himself.

Lenny doesn’t see the parallels to the end of Peter’s life, because he never reads. (He says so himself.) But Shari/Jean does. She does her best to try to talk him out of his actions, but still ends up hanging from another goddamn balcony as he shoots at her fingers. It’s only as she’s slipping away, millimeters from death, that Peter wakes up and realizes who he is.

It’s too late to grab her hand, and Shari/Jean falls. Lucky for her, there’s a pool under this balcony, and she lands in the deep end. (Her best friend makes a joke out of it, actually, which did get a chuckle from me.) And then, just as everybody knows who they are and where they’re from and what they’re supposed to do: we get another goddamn “to be continued.”

I really don’t like ongoing sagas. Not sure what it is, but I have increasingly lost patience with them as I get older. (I think this is part of why I had such an angry reaction to The Last Vampire.) So the idea that I have to wait for another book to get the rest of the story bugs me, even though a) I have it on the shelf and don’t technically have to wait and b) this resurrection story hangs together OK. As I recall, the “white savior” and “forgetting where you come from” elements are even worse in the third book — as in, I’ll stop calling her Jean or even Shari/Jean, because she’s just Shari. Still, this one wasn’t as painful as I expected it to be, especially reading it for the first time in, I don’t know, 20 years after so many Pike Facebook posts regretting it.

[royallypsychotic]

Christian Dior Purse Photographs And Premium High Res Footage

Apparently, in 1995, France’s then First Lady Bernadette Chirac, gifted Lady Diana with the latest creation from the House of Dior. The Lady Dior was first introduced in 1994 beneath the inventive course of Christian Dior’s successor, Gianfranco Ferré. Initially, the bag was nicknamed Chouchou – French for “the favourite” – and was only renamed a yr after its first launch. wikipedia Harry Archer is an editorial assistant at Editorialist engaged on trend, beauty, and every thing in between. A recent graduate from The London College of Fashion, he has interned at Esquire, the Gay Times, and Attitude magazine. When he is not invested in pop culture, you'll discover him engrossed in a book, working from natural choice, or doing a red wine rendition of Can't Fight the Moonlight from the critically acclaimed movie Coyote Ugly. The bag was first launched in 1994 by then-creative director Gianfranco Ferré, and the style was famously beloved by Princess Diana, who was gifted the accessory by France’s First Lady, Bernadette Chirac, in 1995. Ferraro has posted tons of photographs prior to now few weeks with Dior luggage, backstage, and in full make-up and clothes from the brand, and nearly every time has captioned the picture with #ad, and even credited the photographer. In any case, the folks chosen to promote the Saddle Bag 2.zero all have one thing in common. The reimagined version of the classic Lady Dior purse was the second collaboration between Chicago and Dior Creative Director Maria Grazia Chiuri. Another one of Maria Grazia Chiuri’s creations for Dior, the Dioevolution Bag proved that trend is all concerning the revolution. First launched in Dior’s Spring/Summer 2017 collection and discontinued by 2020, the Dior Dioevolution Bag was created to make a daring trend statement. The Caro flap bag additionally features the brand’s “CD” emblem with a twist clasp while Dior’s tackle “30 Montaigne” is embossed on the again. A detachable chain-link strap enhances the handbag that is out there in two sizes and multiple shades such as mint green, rose, and black. Although the basic hobo silhouette bag was initially created in the Nineteen Fifties, the bag's declare to fame skyrocketed when Kennedy touted the bag around. Clean lines and a classic shape are delivered to the fore and the reversible flap lends it a bold character that appeals to Dior’s trendy feminine viewers. Available in three sizes and various colourways, there's a Diorever bag to go well with to each mood and magnificence. He has now been replaced by Belgian designer Raf Simons, former inventive director with the Jil Sander trend house, who's honoured to be responsible for probably the most elegant and famous French brand on the planet. 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Buy second-hand classic Dior Clutch bags for Women on Vestiaire Collective. There are at all times more decadent versions available out there; the Christian Dior 2017 John Giorno Lady Dior Medium Handbag went upto US$4500 (Rs 3.5 lakhs). As a half of Art Basel Miami, Dior collaborates with a quantity of artists from everywhere in the globe and unveils a line of artistic Lady Dior bags with the starting price of US$5000 , going up to US$14,000 . Ultra chic and with beautifulcraftsmanship, the bag has survived an evolving market for almost 25 years and grown beneath six inventive directors. Forged with craftsmanship, expertise, and technical innovation, this special edition assortment includes a recent take on a handful of a few of the most sought after RIMOWA designs. Do you realize if the miss dior promenade clutch pouch is discontinued? I can't find it on the Dior website and I would like to buy it whereas in paris at one of many boutiques. 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