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signaturewindowwashingfl · 1 year

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Cleaning equipment you need to thoroughly clean your home

Introduction

There are some cleaning tools that you’ll use over and over again: vacuums, mops, and brooms. But there are also some must-have cleaning tools that will make your life easier. They're not expensive and they'll help you clean more thoroughly without putting in any more effort.

Glass cleaner

Glass cleaner is a type of cleaning solution that's used to clean glass windows and other surfaces. It's a mixture of water and detergent, in which the detergent helps break down dirt and grime on the surface being cleaned.

The ingredients in glass cleaners vary from product to product, but some common ingredients include ammonia or alcohol, surfactants (detergents), solvents, fragrances, and preservatives like EDTA (ethylenediamine tetraacetic acid).

Dusters

Dusters are good for dusting, but you can use them in other ways as well. For example, you can use a duster with a soft cloth at the end to clean blinds, mirrors, and glass. Dusters are also great for cleaning furniture, computers, and electronics.

Cleaning cloths

Use a different cloth for each room. If you use the same cloth to wipe down surfaces in several rooms, it will pick up dirt and dust from every room it touches. The next time you wipe down a surface with that cloth, you'll be transferring those germs from one room to another!

Use a clean cloth to wipe down surfaces. Wipe down all of your surfaces at least once per week (or oftener if possible). This includes tables; countertops; appliances; mirrors; refrigerators and freezers (especially if they're old); cabinets and drawers inside the fridge or freezer; sinks; toilets, tubs, or shower stalls—anyplace where germs might lurk!

Use a damp cloth to clean windows, mirrors, and other glass. Use warm water soapy water on mirrors but plain warm water on windows—you don't want soap residue left behind when you try to clean them later! Make sure not too much water gets onto your windows: just use enough so that any smudges come right off without having to stick around until the next time we clean them."

Vacuum

Vacuums with beater bars are the best for cleaning carpets. Use a crevice tool to get into tight spaces or remove debris from the upholstery. If you're not sure what kind of vacuum cleaner you have, check its label or user manual to see if it has attachments that fit on and off the hose. If so, attach one of those brushes and get cleaned!

Stiff bristle brush

A stiff bristle brush is a great tool for scrubbing grout and other hard-to-reach places. If you have a particularly dirty tub, throw some hot water in it and let the steam loosen up any dirt. Then grab your stiff bristle brush and get to work!

If there’s one thing we know about bathtubs, it’s that they can be very gross. Fortunately, cleaning them doesn’t have to be difficult if you have the right tools on hand. With just a sponge or cloth, you can tackle those tough spots around the taps and showerhead with ease!

Step ladder

A step ladder is a must-have in any household, as it's the perfect tool for reaching high places. However, before you climb on your step ladder to clean the ceiling fan or dust off your chandelier, remember that you should always make sure it's sturdy and stable first. Be sure not to wear shoes with poor grip when climbing on a step ladder (especially if you're wearing stockings) and don't climb on a step ladder if you are tired or under the influence of alcohol.

Conclusion

The next time you are thinking about cleaning your house, remember that there are many tools and products that will help make the job easier. You can use these items to cover all areas of your home including walls, floors, furniture, and even outdoor areas. Just remember that every person has different needs so choose what works best for you!

Window Washing in Denver

Window cleaning is an important part of any home or commercial cleaning service. At Signature Window Washing, we offer professional window-washing services to customers in Denver. We’re committed to providing a high-quality, value-driven experience that exceeds your expectations every time. Our goal is simple: To be the best window cleaner in Denver! If you’re in the market for window cleaning services in Denver, look no further than our company. We have more than 15 years of experience providing professional window-washing services to homeowners and businesses throughout the metro area. If you want your windows cleaned by a company that has its act together, then give us a call today or you may find us online using these keywords Window Cleaning Denver, Window Cleaning Denver CO, Window Washing Denver, and Window washing Denver Co.

Signature Window Washing

1929 W 52nd Pl, Denver, CO 80221, United States

303-551-1708

#window washing denver #window cleaning denver

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

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A Password And A Promise

💕 Happy Valentine's Day!!! You guys are all my Valentines, thank you, thank you, thank you so much for all the positive reception! 💕

It’s day five of the week of love and today’s prompt that I chose was Snuggling for Warmth!! Read here or on ao3 at ej_writer !

Word Count: 3,649

Rating: T

First winter in the Midwest, and Billy’s been out in the snow for hours on end.

He’d like to say that he has no idea why he’s doing this, but he does. Chief Hopper asked him to.

As if his record wasn’t already bad enough, with the fights and the vandalism and all the other bad things he’d done since his arrival in Hawkins, he just had to go and get himself a DUI charge.

He’d been speeding off to some middle schoolers house, schnockered after a party to pick his sister up when he got pulled over. He’d begged the chief to let him off easy, promised he’d never pick up another bottle if it meant that the DUI didn’t make it on file.

And the chief, he understood that. He’d been the one to ask Billy a few questions when he was admitted to the hospital in mid-November and a nurse, recognizing the signs of abuse, asked him to come check it out. Despite Billy’s best efforts, the Hopper’d wormed it out of him that his father had been the one to land him there.

So when he made his plea, it didn’t take much convincing to get him to help him out.

Still, he couldn’t justifiably let Billy walk away unpunished for driving drunk, especially being that, with the new legislation Indiana was rolling out, he was now way under the age limit. To compromise, he opted to make him do community service instead.

Had Billy known how that would turn out for him, he might’ve rather just taken the beating for the DUI than doing three hours of shoveling sidewalks. A kick to the ribs or a punch to the jaw probably would’ve hurt less than the ache in his bones, feeling more and more like they were made out of heavy lead, or the sting of the cold air on his fingers and on his face.

For as many years as he had lived in California, he’d never seen snow stick to the ground for more than a few minutes, if at all, and he’d definitely never had to wear more than a jacket to protect himself from cold weather.

Now, having underestimated just how cold snow could actually get, he was freezing his ass off. He didn’t even have a stupid pair of gloves or anything, mouthing but a layer of thin denim to protect him from the record low temperatures.

Just because the universe hated him, the beating down snow wouldn’t slow down either. Not only were his clothes getting soaked completely through, his jacket a sopping mess and his boots more like rain barrels than shoes, but basically every time he cleared a sidewalk off, it'd be covered again before he reached the end.

Under all that snow, it was icy as all hell too, getting more so by the minute. Biker boots weren’t designed to walk on ice, and apparently nobody around these parts was decent enough to even sprinkle out a little ice melt before a storm, so more than a few times, he’d hit an icy patch and wipe the hell out. Thanks to a combination of the sun going down so early and the bitter freezing temperatures, there was nobody around to watch his feet go out from under him, but it still hurt like a son of a bitch.

He was worn down the bone by the time he finally reached Loch Nora, the first place where he could catch a damn break. Everyone up in that little neighborhood was rich enough to pay their lawn boys to scrape and salt the sidewalks for them, and didn't need some scraggly teenager avoiding a criminal record to do it for them.

Without doing any work it got even colder, and he was pretty sure he was going to get hypothermia and keel over in some hoity-toity’s lawn. His hair was frozen, his lungs burned from the cold air leaving him unable to catch his breath, and his teeth were chattering. He thought that shit only happened in the cartoons.

Billy's starting to realize that when Hopper had told him five hours, he probably hadn’t meant all at once. But nobody told him that the weather could be like this, he thought he would just be able to get it all out of the way now, when he could be certain there even was snow to shovel and no Boy Scouts giving him a run for his money.

Too bad he’d probably freeze to death before he finished.

But before that can happen, he’s intercepted by the double doors at 8253 swinging open, nearly jumping out of his skin when the wind catches it and hits it off the side of the house.

Were it literally anybody else shouting to him from their stoop, he’d have just kept walking. But the boy who lived in the mansion at 8253 was none other than Steve Harrington, who called out to him over the wind, “Billy? What the shit are you doin’ out here, man?”

Steve Harrington, who had apologized first for Billy kicking his ass, and started hanging out with him before the scars even healed. He apparently had the superpower to make friends with absolutely anybody, even difficult bullies who made every effort to keep him from doing exactly that.

Don’t get him wrong, being buddy-buddy with Steve Harrington was definitely something he was interested in, but he wasn’t a fan of the way he pretended absolutely nothing was wrong after they fought. He’d concussed him, had to be drugged before he’d stop beating him, and Steve still was the first to reach out.

There had to be some sort of a catch to that kindness, and Billy just wasn’t looking to get too attached.

And yet, Billy stopped for him, when he called out, so maybe it wouldn’t have been entirely truthful to say that he was particularly bothered by Steve’s persistence. If you pressed him hard enough, he might even admit he thought it was kind of endearing.

“Just doing my civic duty, Harrington.” He could kick himself for how weak his voice sounds.

“It’s below zero, Billy. Why don’t you come in?” There’s something like concern in the way he says it, and it makes Billy want to walk away.

“I’ll pass.”

But Steve’s not having it, puts a hand on his hip. “I think the fuck you won’t. Get in here man.”

Billy might be stubborn, but Steve won’t take no for an answer. He knows when he’s lost, so he shoves the handle of the snow shovel towards Steve, who rolls his eyes and takes it, leaves it lean beside the door, and shoulders past Steve into his mansion, instantly feeling like he was melting in the dry warmth that radiated from the house.

Steve shuts the door behind them and hangs his scarf on a coat rack by the door. His boots and coat follow, and he makes Billy do the same. They both grimace at the puddle of water that spills out of Billy’s boot when it tips over.

“Jesus dude, how long were you out there?”

Billy shrugs, winces at the movement of sore shoulders, and lies. He wouldn’t want Steve to make a fuss if he knew. “Dunno. Lost track of the time.”

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Steve plods up carpeted steps, leaving Billy to stand awkwardly on the door mat so he doesn’t drip all over the hardwood floors.

He takes the moment alone to take in his surroundings.

The Harringtons were more than well off, everybody knew that, but being inside of their house, their goddamned mansion, is nothing like Billy expected.

Just from where he’s standing at the door, he can see a living room furnished with big plush couches and a TV in an entertainment center the size of the whole wall. Across from it is the entrance to a dining room with more chairs than a family of three needed at a long table, chandelier overhead.

There were potted plants in every corner and paintings and family photos hung on every wall. Knick-knacks, probably all ordered from some magazine like his own step mom would day dream about shopping from, adorned every last unaided surface, from the huge console record player to every side table and wall shelf.

The longer he looked though, the more Billy noticed all the little things, like cobwebs in the high corners, and dust built up on the wax fruit, the 1979 time stamp on the most recent of their family photos. It wasn’t hard to piece together that this place was just a set.

Suddenly the obnoxiously high ceilings and the fancy decorations felt a lot less like grandeur, and a lot more suffocating. Billy felt bad knowing Steve was here all the time by himself, the sole pretender playing this part of the perfect family.

But then he’s brought out of his reflections by Steve hurrying back down the steps with a neatly folded stack of clothes in hand that he’s shoving towards him.

“The hell are these?”

“A change of clothes.” Billy just looks at him, scrunching his nose at the suggestion, and still won’t take them. “Dude you’re soaked to the bone, you’ll never get warm if you don’t get outta those clothes.”

Billy smirks, raises an eyebrow, but he takes the clothes.

Steve, realizing he could’ve worded that a little better blushes, just the faintest dusting of pink on his pale cheeks. “Shut up man. Bathroom’s down the hall to the right.”

Even the Harrington’s bathroom is the pinnacle of wealthy interior design. Not only is the room as big as Billy’s entire living room, but it’s just as overly designed as the rest of the house.

The walls are black and gold, marbled in the most gaudy flaunting of money Billy’d ever seen. A huge clawfoot tub was settled in the counter, framed by beige tile counters. There was a mirror surrounded by lights right above the sink that spanned almost the entire wall. It felt like something straight out of a magazine. Hell, it probably was.

Even the bathroom in this place makes Billy feel out of place, the luxury of it all so much unlike what he was used to.

It’s warm in the bathroom, the shut door and the smaller space collecting keeping the heat in, and it makes his clothes start to feel gross on his skin, way too cold in contrast. He swallows his pride and looks at what Steve gave him to change into.

There’s two shirts, a henley and a drug rug, a pair of fleece pajama pants, and some fuzzy hospital socks with the grips on the bottom.

Before he puts his shirt on, he notices there’s bruises on his shoulders, on his back and his elbows, from the many times the ice had sent his feet out from under him, but honestly, it gives him this strange sense of pride, knowing he put them there himself.

He was more than used to marks on his skin, put there by an angry father and his rage, so it was a welcome change to know he’d just gotten these ones just from being clumsy. He almost didn’t want to cover them up, but another shiver ran up his spine, causing goose pimples to pop up all over his body, and he elected to slip the two shirts Steve had picked for him over his head, just to keep himself from freezing.

Wearing Steve’s clothes makes him look soft in every way that was not like him. Without his usual denim and leather, he just looked like the boring version of himself. No longer the stereotypical image of high school bad boy he tries so hard for, he just plain old Billy.

He likes it. A lot. Stares at himself in that huge mirror for longer than is probably considered normal before deciding he should leave the bathroom.

Back in the living room, there’s a huge glass protected fireplace on the far wall, in front of which Steve’s on his knees currently trying, and failing, to start a fire up in. At home, all Billy had was a dinky plug in fireplace that stank like hot dust, but he knew how to start a fire regardless.

He’d been there when his father burnt all of his mother’s things she’d left behind.

“You need a starter.”

Steve jumps, apparently having not noticed Billy coming into the room. “What, like gas?”

“Jesus Christ, no, not like gas. We're inside, doofus.” He has to laugh at Steve’s incompetence, but he offers his help. “You have any of those bricks?”

“These?” Steve opens a drawer beside the fireplace full of fire starters, and Billy realizes this is just another piece of the set. He’d be the first person to actually use this fireplace in years, if anyone even ever had before him.

“Yeah, those.” He confirms, but Steve just sits there, doesn’t know what to do with it. “Just put it under the wood and light it.”

“Huh.” Steve looks at the fire he made, seemingly a little surprised that it worked, brushes his hands on his pants and turns to Billy. He looks him up and down, taking in how he looked in the change of clothes and grins as he says, “You look cozy.”

Billy, trying to make up for the way his heart starts pounding from the observation, bites back, “And you look like a gracious host who’s going to make me a hot coffee.”

Steve looks like he thinks for a second before he asks, “Would you settle for hot cocoa?”

“I don’t care, long as it’s warm.”

Billy waits until Steve disappears around the corner into the kitchen before he sits down cross legged on the floor in front of the fire place.

The warmth of the fire radiates over him in a way that brings feeling back to his body, is almost soothing.

When he was little, he could remember having bonfires on cool summer nights out back of their first house in California. The lick of the flames against wood, the way the bright tendrils of fire would dance used to be so calming. He’d always fall asleep outside in a canvas lawn chair, and wake up the next morning tucked into his bed.

But the heat is too much, makes his skin itch, burning from the inside out in a way that wasn’t so pleasant.

He remembers his father, drunk off his ass, dragging him out to that same fire pit by his arm, leaving welts on soft skin, forcing him to watch as he burned every memory they had of his mother. Every picture, every possession, every shred of clothing, burnt to ash until there was nothing left but her voice on the other end of a telephone, and even that stopped after a little while.

He doesn’t notice Steve come back from the kitchen, he’s too caught up in the flames, curling up around the wood and leaving burnt destruction in its wake.

Too entranced by the fire warming him up and freezing him over at the same time. The brightness of it leaves black and pink spots on his vision from how intensely he’d been staring.

“I didn’t have any marshmallows so I-” Steve stops talking when he sees Billy, sees that he’s crying, sitting stock still and just, staring into the fire place. “Oh.”

Billy startles from the sound of his voice, blinks too fast, trying to chase away the splotches of light burnt into his eyes. The action forces him to realize there are tears wetting cheeks, which he wipes at a little too aggressive with his sleeve, hoping Steve won’t say anything.

And he doesn’t, he just reaches down and hands him a mug, not letting go until Billy's got both hands on it and he’s sure he won’t drop it. Billy hadn’t noticed himself shaking until he saw the way the cocoa rippled in the red mug.

Steve clears his throat, trying to think of the right thing to say. “You still cold?”

“No shit. I was out there for three hours.” It’s harsh, overcompensating for sure.

Steve nods, but points out his inconsistency. “I thought you lost track of time?”

“My brain thawed out and I remembered.” He mumbles. It makes Steve laughs, and Billy’s heart feels like it could burst.

“Well, I have some extra blankets and stuff, if you’re still cold.” Steve offers, and Billy nods in response, as if to say that that sounded nice without out actually having to admit anything.

But Steve doesn’t make any moves to go get it, just stands there shuffling his feet and looking down into his cocoa. Billy can already tell he’s going to say something that he doesn’t want to hear.

Before Steve can embarrass him, Billy asks impatient, “You gonna go get it or you gonna let me freeze?”

“Right. Yeah.” Steve bends down and sets his mug down on the lip of the fireplace and pads off to some storage closet somewhere in the mansion. Billy rolls his eyes and promptly moves it to the coffee table to keep the ceramic from heating up and burning him when he picked it up next.

Initially, Billy thinks nothing of it when Steve comes back with only one blanket. It seems perfectly reasonable to him that Steve, who had been in this well heated house presumably all day, just isn’t cold.

But when he sits back down he’s close enough that their knees bump where they’re crossed, and he spreads just the one blanket out across the both of them.

Thank god for the fact that there was already a flush on his cheeks from the fire, because Billy definitely would’ve been blushing like a little schoolgirl at that.

They don’t talk about anything, because there’s nothing too talk about. It’s a comfortable silence that settles between them, broken up only by the crackling and popping of the fire.

But after a while with nothing to distract him, to keep him aware that this was Steve’s house, Steve’s Persian rug underneath him, Steve himself sitting next to him, Billy drifts back to smoke filled lungs straining with the effort of screaming for his mom, to the fist in his hair forcing him to watch.

Steve notices in an instant, those blue eyes going dull, his nostrils flaring and his jaw clenching, and the way his nails dig into his palms.

He sets his mug back down on the coffee table behind them, and gets up on his knees. He wraps the blanket they’d been sharing around Billy’s shoulders, and then his arms, linking his fingers together so he’s hugging Billy.

Except the slightest fluttering of his eyelashes, Billy shows no signs of a reaction. Steve takes that as his motivation to keep trying, and puts a hand on the back of his neck, says, “Hey, Billy.”

It makes his breath hitch, coming out in a cut off sigh. Billy asks, a little monotonous, “What’re you doin’?”

“Keeping you warm.”

Billy appreciates him not bringing up what’s obviously happening, but his head’s only partly coming back to him, and all he has the capacity to come up with as a response is, “Oh.”

Steve squeezes him a little tighter, his face pressing against his shoulder, to get him through the rest of it, to bring him back to earth.

It’s a while before he gets anything else from Billy. Long enough that he has to move so he doesn’t kill his knees sitting up on them, and he ends up with them thrown over top of Billy’s, so they can be as close as possible.

Because Billy wasn’t exactly back there anymore, but he wasn’t quite here either. He could hear Steve, feel his arm around his shoulders, his knuckles rubbing absently up his arm, he just couldn’t reach him yet.

When he gets back in his own head, he takes a moment to figure out where he is, and once he’s got it, he hooks his hands under Steve’s thighs, pulls him the rest of the way into his lap.

He doesn’t think about boundaries, about the fact that he should be more cautious, he just leans forward, presses their foreheads together and says, barely above a whisper, “Thank you.”

“Yeah. Anything for you.” Steve’s got a smile on his face, warm and genuine and blissful, and Billy can’t help the one that forms on his to match.

That’s where they stay until morning comes around. Billy just didn’t have the energy to get up and go home so late, and Steve didn’t have the heart to make him.

He got the throw pillows down off the couch, and they went to sleep the way they were, wrapped up in each other by the fire, well after it burns out and the last of the wood is gone.

Billy wakes up stiff from sleeping on the floor, but he couldn’t have been in any place more comfortable than Steve’s arms.

What Steve had done for him was practically unheard of. It was everything he was supposed to do, inviting someone in when they were cold, helping them out when they were feeling bad, but he’d never had that before. Not from anyone.

He’d hold the memory of Steve, holding him by the fire, equal parts concerned about getting him warm and getting him out of his head, in his heart forever.

That’s what he’s thinking about when he falls back asleep with a smile on his face, how this was just the start of making so many more memories to chase out the old.

Maybe Hawkins and it’s shitty winters wouldn’t be so bad, if he could spend them all like this.

#harringrove week of love #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer #story by ej!#this is kinda barely snuggling for warmth but it’s in my own little way that it is

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bunnyramen · 4 years

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I just would like to give a big Happy Birthday to @kalofi , shes officially an old woman we shall plan accordingly on which nursing home you have to go to.

All jokes aside, it’s a been good year as your friend and uh. I hope you like this! Happy birthday!!💕💕

——-

A figure rose up out of a bed that wasn’t his own.

Josuke didn’t sleep on a bed covered in a queen bed spread, his was Prince and the under sheet was purple.

“What the hell?” That wasn’t his voice either, it was a bit lighter than his own but still had a sort of gruffness to it.

He looked at his hands and noticed they were smaller than his longer piano fingers, and covered a bit more scars than his own.

Josuke looked around the room with eyes that also weren’t his own, well eye since one seemed to be blind.

There were some Bruce Lee, Prince, Queen, Elton John and Selena posters hung around the room.

And despite the gaudy curtain and muscle clock, whoever this was had some taste.

He pulled the covers off of someone and someones feet touched soft carpet, rising out of someone’s bed.

God, was this what it was like to not be 6 feet tall? Small like Koichi?

He touched at the hair framing his face, some of it white and some of it a bright red.

And he ran a tongue over the teeth in his mouth.

They were razor sharp!

“What the fuck?!” A voice screamed and the wall next to him was punched, telling him to shut up.

He didn’t recognize the voice.

Ok, he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

Speaking of attack, was this the work of a stand?

Where was the bastard? He had to neutralize him before he did some serious damage to Morioh!

But he couldn’t go anywhere in pajamas that weren’t his.

He went over to where presumed the clothes were, the dresser that had a boom box and plenty of boxes of tapes next to it.

He opened the first drawer and grabbed a white t-shirt with green accents.

He looked up on the wall and saw a picture on the wall, one of the kids in it was presumably the body he was inhabiting, judging by the hair and teeth.

Next to him was a angry blonde kid, who kind of looked like he got hit in the face with a hot shovel by his standards.

Maybe it was just the really ugly face he was making.

Luckily they were wearing school outfits, so he was able to figure out what he was supposed to normally wear.

A pair of green pants came onto his body next, a belt then a pair of purple socks.

He looked near the small closet in the room, seeing a pair of red Velcro shoes in front of them.

He figured it was time to brush his teeth and wash his face, and see what the hair situation was like,

He saw a large jar of hair gel sitting on the desk next to the bed and he grabbed it.

“Thank god, I didn’t wanna walk around with this hair all day.” His-er the kids inner voice said.

This was going to be weird since not only was his mom not here but there seemed to be more than one person on this floor.

Was he in a apartment or something?

Or some kind of dorm?

While he was thinking, he located the placement of a face towel and pulled a toothbrush from the boxes and boxes of toothbrushes in the kid’s closet.

He opened the door, peeking out into the hallway and seeing an empty get colorful looking ceiling and flooring.

He closed the door behind himself, thankful that he could be on his own while his mind was racing about where the fuck he was and who the fuck he was.

He went down the hall and got to an elevator.

“Must be some rich kid school or something.” He pushed the button for the second to last floor, figuring that was where the bathroom was.

Hopefully.

——

After asking another person than the original 2 he asked (that seemed to wanna chit chat), he finally located the bathroom.

He got in front of a mirror and finally got to see what the hell was he was working with.

He had to admit, the guy he was pretty handsome, at least he wasn’t stuck in someone ugly.

Like that Guy with that surface stand.

Or that little purple dude that he came across that kept chatting up with the girls in a gross way, he socked him one good with some kind of rock hand on his way here.

And it was weird since Crazy Diamond didn’t show up to punch the fucker for him.

Anyways, he did his hair in his usual pompadour, pretty much a second nature that it he got it done in less than 3 minutes.

While he waited for it to dry, he brushed his teeth and washed his face, having to periodically spit out bristles since they kept coming out when he gave these teeth a full cleaning.

He walked out of the bathroom but held the door open for some kid with a lightning bolt in his head since he was coming while he was trying to walk out.

“Woah! Trying a new look, Kirishima?” A pink girl with black eyes asked and he’d almost mistaken her for some kind of alien stand user but he didn’t sense anything from her.

“Uh haha, yeah! I’ll catch you later, Pink girl.” He laughed awkwardly, patting her on the back before he started to walk away.

He seems to be walking through a dining room, judging by the multiple people eating cereal.

God, he really missed his mom right now. He wondered what the other kid was like towards her. He hoped he got switched with someone nice.

“Your hair looks even more shitty than usual.” A low voice said from the end of the table he was walking past.

He looked to see the kid in the picture, hot shovel face.

“The fuck did you say about my hair?” A fire lit in his gut but it was pure hot red anger from himself , instead of the anger from him and his stand combined.

Bakugo took that as him not hearing what he said, so he said it again.

And that really set in stone was this body was about to do to him.

He punch him directly in the face, knocking over the cereal that was balancing in his spoon and ignored the gasps of the bystanders.

He would’ve went back for another but he was being pulled away by this really tall dorky guy.

He admitted to himself that the guy was pretty handsome.

“Eijirou, what has gotten into you?!” He pulled him away further as the blonde stood up with anger written all over his face.

“No one insults the hair of the man that saved me! No fucking one!” He tried pulling away from the nerdy dude but boy was he strong.

The lighting bold guy seemed to have to hold the other dude back from trying to let off some kind of explosion near him.

“Who saves you?” Mina looked confused.

“Look, My name is Josuke and that hot shovel faced asshole insulted the hair of the person that saved my life!”

“Josuke? Wait hold on, you’re saying your not Kirishima Eijirou.”

“No! I got switched with him by some kind of stand user or something! Now let me go so I can pummel him!”

“A stand?” Mina looked at him weirdly.

“Fuck.” He was hoping this “Kirishima” kid wasn’t doing anything weird with his body or messing up anything.

——

“So this is what it’s like to be tall!” Kirishima ran down the stairs of a house he didn’t at all recognize and was greeted by a rather tall purple haired woman when he reached the kitchen he presumed.

Maybe tallness ran in the family.

“Hello, Ma’am.” He waved at her nervously, not sure of who the woman was or who’s body he was in.

The lady picked up a knife, holding it towards Kirishima threateningly, the boy backing away.

“Who are you and where is my baby?” She said darkly, the knife glinting in the light.

“Huh?”

“Josuke never calls me ma’am. And he never comes down those stairs with his hair undone unless it’s a weekend.” The knife was getting dangerously close to his neck.

“I’m sorry but I’m not your son. I’m Kirishima Eijirou, and I’ve switched bodies with him, I think? I don’t what’s going on or who you are.” Either this Josuke kid could sweat a lot, or his sweat glands got transferred to this body.

“Switched? But where’s my baby?” She wasn’t holding the knife to his neck anymore but she still looked prepared to slice and dice him.

“I think he’s in my body. This could be the work of a quirk user or something, I’m not too sure.”

The lady fainted suddenly, the knife coming out of her hand and clattering to her floor.

“Oh fuck!” He was about to approach her to try and see if she was ok but a new figure bursted in, the door being unlocked by an outside force, probably a key.

“Josuke?” The new comer asked, his eyes shiny as he took in the scene in front of him.

“Hey man, it’s not what it looks like! She fainted, and I don’t know what’s going on!” God, was everyone the type to fight first and ask questions later here?

The guy came over in a few strides and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, the motion alerting this really big pink guy that smelled oddly like strawberries.

“Crazy D, you know who this guy is?” The guy was really strong or something since he just shook him like a limp rag doll.

‘Crazy D’ looked at him with a weird glare, and the guy shook his head, shrugging with a confused “Dora.”

“What is that?” He pointed behind the guy, The Hand having been summoned at the mention of Crazy D.

“You’d know that if you were Josuke, and so since I don’t wanna cave my own boyfriends face in without giving whoever you are a chance, you got five seconds.” The guy robot he summoned looked ready to slice him in half too.

Normally, Kirishima would fight back but since he had no idea who he was, where he was, or what he was working with in terms of fighting back, he decided to bitch out just this once.

“I’m Kirishima Eijirou, I go to U.A, Im from Musustafa, I’m 16 years old, and my quirk is Hardening!” He flinched away when he felt that his explanation wasn’t good enough, but the punch didn’t come.

The guy let go of his collar.

“Alright, a stand user trying to actively kill us wouldn’t give himself away like that but I swear to god if you try anything funny, you’ll be having a talk with the hand.” The boy glared at him, making sure that hand thing was on stand by.

While the guy helped Tomoko onto the couch, Kirishima went to the nearest phone and dialed the number in.

There were a couple rings before he heard an energetic ‘Present Mic speaking!”

“Daddi-o!”

“Eijirou?”

“Yes!”

“Thank goodness! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m in this Josuke kid’s house and I have like no idea where I am!”

“You’re in Morioh.” The guy said from the couch, where he was helping Tomoko wake up.

“This guy said I’m in Morioh!”

“My names Okoyasu.”

“I’m with Okoyasu. Luckily, he let me speak before he tried icing me out.”

“At least we’re know you’re safe! The kid in your body, his name is Josuke and he’s actually a pretty nice kid when he stopped trying kill Bakugou. Something about his hair, it’s actually pretty cool, you should see it-”

There was a struggle over the phone and a brief ‘hey!’ Before he recognized his dad’s tired voice being put on the phone.

“We captured the villain. Luckily it wasn’t what this Josuke kid calls a ‘stand user’ otherwise it’d be up to you and you’re not able to control his stand.”

“Thank goodness. Dad, How soon can I get my body back?”

“Well, actually the quirk only lasts for a few hours and it should end right about now. Brace yourself.”

Kirishima dropped the phone from his hand and blacked out, he doesn’t remember hitting the ground.

“Hey, Kirishima!” He felt someone patting his cheek, trying to rouse him from his sleep.

He blinked his eyes, a blurry vision of pink and yellow coming into view.

“If your really Kirishima finish this phrase.” Sero said from above him, he could presume he was probably on the ground right now.

“Precisely.“ Kaminari started, Kirishima’s eyes lighting up.

“Damn, I’m late for school!” He sat up, actually seeing that the arms he was fist pumping were his and the friends he was looking at were his.

“Woah, hold the phone!” He looked up at his forehead and saw something blocking his view. “What is this?” Kirishima grabbed his pocket mirror, because he’s he owned a pocket mirror for just such occasions of keeping his spikes in order.

But it wasn’t spikes.

It was a pompadour.

“Yo Daddi-o, can I borrow your phone?” Kirishima asked Present Mic after his friends helped him off the floor and into a chair.

He called the last number, and it rung for a second before a voice he recognized answered the phone.

“Tomoko speaking?”

“Hello Mrs. Tomoko, I’m the kid your son switched bodies with. Sorry for the uh..trouble.” The redhead coughed.

“No trouble at all, as long as I have my son back in his rightful place and you back in yours. Would you like to talk to him? He says he’d very much like to talk to you.”

Kirishima heard Josuke whine to his mom to stop embarrassing him.

“Hello?”

——-

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ladyexploso · 4 years

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Tokoyami x Bird Mutation Quirk!Pregnant!Reader: Pretty Things

[P1]

Note that this is slightly reflected on a OC of mine but it is a reader insert.

The house of the Tokoyami Family was dead quiet in the middle of the day for ones. Most days the house would be filled with the sounds of daily cleaning, the washer going or the dryer, the sound of dishes being put away, even the sound of the radio would be moving though the air of the house. But today it was quite. The only sounds that filled the house was in the main bedroom, deep in the depth of the large plush nest that was built in front of the queen size bed. The sound of steady breathing and soft coos and chirps filled the nest

Tokoyami Y/N, currently 6 months pregnant laid in the large nest, half awake and have asleep from her midday nap. She felt,wrong in small words. It was nothing big, she wasn’t hurt or in pain, well aside from her actual pregnancy pains she was fine. It was just a feeling that bagged at the back of her mind. The feeling was just strange to her at least. She couldn’t tell if it was do to her own quirk or her husband’s, the both of them having bird related quirks, so most likely the child she would be giving birth to in the next few months would probably have some kind of bird quirk or mutation. Her mind nagged with the most odd “craving” she seemed to have by far though the pregnancy....

She wanted shine things, all over her nest, now.

The odd phenomenon had started about a month ago, when the baby had started letting it be known that they where fully active, they didn’t move much but Y/N had started feeling flutters of what could be called movement. Even though no one else could feel them yet, she could. That’s when the pulling feeling started.

Before her and Tokoyami had known she was pregnant, she had started building a nest in the closet, it was small and cramped and Tokoyami was happy that you wanted to build a nest in the room, but it was so small it barely fit you let alone him. After a week of her feeling sick and just sitting in the small nest he took you to go see the doctor. That’s when the two of you found out you where almost a full month pregnant.

After that the nest had been moved out of the closet and into the bedroom in front of the bed. He had tried to talk his wife into letting him have a team come in and remodel the closet into a full room closet so she could have her own nest room. She was very against the idea of having people in their home, Tokoyami suspected it was do to the news of the pregnancy and the protective motherly instinct that ran though her now. But after a talk with some of his hero friends, Momo and Mina, he had successfully gotten you out of the house early in the morning and back during the late night for a girls day out.

He payed top dollar to the fastest people he know who could get the job done, Power Loader, Hatsume and even Gun Head. The three where great with both construction and pure muscle power to do the job.

The job went pretty fast with the help of the hero’s and before no time a new closet/room was built and painted, along with decorated walls of dressers and mirrors with amazing lighting. He had even put in a dimmer that was remote controlled so if she wanted to dim the lights she could without moving.

When she had walked though the front door , he was expecting her to love it or at least find it nice. But the fact that she looked into the room for 5 seconds and then gave him the most uncomfortable “I hate this things” look before slamming the door to the room shut and falling asleep on the bedroom bed.

She hated it and she wanted it to be known.

Tokoyami never found it to be a waste of time or money, they stilled used it as a closet, she just didn’t want to build a nest in it.

Tossing and turning she couldn’t get comfortable in her nest and she couldn’t figure out why. She huffed as she sat up, her stomach hurt in a deep pit way. A sharp kick to her side made her wince as she got up from her nest, shuffling out and standing up to look over her nest. It just didn’t feel right any more. Her head feathers ruffled as she mulled over her nest. She looked over her nest before something caught her eye, that stupid closet. As of on cue a light kick made her look down, the baby wanted to move to the stupid closet.

She really didn’t want to move all her stuff but every minute she was out of her soft safe nest made her more and more uncomfortable. Grabbing a few of the light blankets that spilled around the nest freely she moved over to the closet door before opening it wide, flipping the switch on the wall to turn the lights on. The room was clean and neat. The room was a nice white with back accents to it and nice lighting over all. Her husband’s suits and extra at home hero suits hung. Draws filled with his at home and civilian clothes. His other draws by the mirror and desk area where filled nearly with his watches and different chokers.

Her side was filled with her dresses and normal clothes. A few drawers where now filled with her pregnancy clothes and baby clothes that she and her husband had picked out a while back. Her own mirror and table clad with her skin and makeup products. Her drawers where filled with jewelry, Tokoyami had bought all kinds of jewelry for her from day one. From bracelets, to earrings to necklaces with all kinds of jewels and metals. At first it was to much, she didn’t want to make him buy her so much, she could just not guess how much he had payed for just one of the gold incrusted bracelets he had gifted her on a whim. But after a while it was evident that he just liked buying you stuff and he wasn’t going to stop any time soon even if she said no to the gifts. He only ever really request that she wear them when the two of them went out to big hero events and dinner.

She smiled at the thought before turning back to the blankets that now sat in the closet carpet. She sighed, this was going to be a pain to move.

Within two hours everything that had been in the previous nest was now in the closet, reorganizing into a new nest, a few new shirts from her husband’s laundry bin where thrown into the mix.

Laying down ones again she felt better, the smell of the room had changed over the past few months from the gross smell of paint to the scent of her husband and even his cologne he would spray on in the mornings before heading to the office. It was nice. But it wasn’t enough.

Her eyes drifted back to her desk, eyeing one of the few draws. A quick gander at a few of things her husband had bothered wouldn’t hurt now would it?

Getting up she wondered over to the desk before sitting down in the plush chair in front of it, her hand drifting down to drum along her stomach, a few flutters being thrown her way from the little one. Pulling open one of the draws her eyes widened and glisten at all of the jewelry that was neatly put inside. Had she really not noticed how pretty these where until now? All the jewels thy glittered in the cases, the shine of the gold and silver bands.

Before she could even understand what she was doing she was taking the cases and throwing them into her new nest, the light clinks of the jewelry hitting the bottom of the nest along with hitting one another as they fell. Dropping the cases she went back over to her nest , making a clearing on the bottom of the nest so she could lay down fully.

She just laid down looking at the ceiling before feeling around for something to latch into and look at. Her hand fell onto some necklace, she quickly grabbed it and brought it to her face. It was a large gold necklace choker mix, a gold band alpines with small diamonds and rubys, gold chains as a necklace lined and fell around it, with one giant ruby having from the last chain. A sharp kick pulled her out of the trance of looking at the ruby jewel. She slowly put the ruby part onto her stomach, moving her shirt up so it was right on the skin of her stomach.

The cool ruby sat on her stomach before the baby stopped kicking, only small movements fell where the ruby sat.

The kid couldn’t even see it, but it wanted it.

Stupid bird instincts.

Before she could scold her baby anymore, she feel asleep to the small movement it gave off.

Tokoyami sighed as he entered his house after a long day patrol the city streets. He just wanted to get home to have some time with his pregnant wife. He had never thought he would get married let alone a child. That’s why he wanted to just spend time with his wife. He loved her so much that it could rot out his own teeth. He was amazed that she had wanted to marry him, after marriage he thought that was it, the two of them would just live out the rest of their lives happily married with one another. The moment that she had let it slip that she wanted a child at some point his heart nearly stopped.

He had held her hands telling her how he wasn’t out on having a child, but he didn’t want her hurt or better yet dead. When he was born, his mother had to have a c-section do you his quirk mutation, his parents didn’t even know about his mutation until the last few months before he was born, he had turned during a ultrasound and they had noticed his head just in time to see. He didn’t want you to die because of a child that he had put into her. And the fact she had a bird mutation as well just made him more nervous. But after she begged him, pleaded with him, he caved.

She was willing to take every risk, even her own life, to have a child with him. The day that they had found out she was pregnant she held his hands and looked him in the eyes saying “ What ever happens, know that I wanted this, that this baby is me and you put together. A mix of you and me and the love we have for one another.” Tears pouring from her eyes as she gave a wavered smiled “ Don’t say another just nod, Tokoyami, if I die or I’m about to, the baby is number one ok?! Don’t think about any else, just think about what I want, that I want this baby, and if I don’t make it, look at him or her and know that in there is me and you! Me! Ok!?” Her hands fell to hold his face, his own eyes pouring down tears onto her hands.

He could only nod as he held her to his chest as they both cried.

It was a day he would never forget.

His thoughts where set aside as the front door clicked closed and he walked in to the house, happy to find his wife wasn’t over doing it in the kitchen and from the sound of the washer and dryer not going,most likely she hadn’t gone over bored today with house work. Dark shadow came out for a moment to look around the kitchen while Tokoyami just headed down the hall way to the master bedroom. Most likely his wife was curled up in her nest taking a nap.

As he walked into the room he noticed that the stack of pillows and blankets where gone from the front of the bed where her nest had been for the past 5 months. A slight panic hit him as he thought about where she could of gone. His mind overworking thinking about where she could be. A loud snort made his head shoot up, looking to the closet he found the door open a bit, the lights inside turned down to a dim shutter. Dark shadow retreated back into the room, pushing the door open a bit more for the man to enter.

He smiled at the sight, she had moved her nest into the middle of the closet. From what he could tell she was full on sleeping in the middle of it. He cocked a brow as he got closer. The nest was almost glistening? As he got closer he noticed all of the jewelry scattered around inside of her nest. He didn’t really understand as he got closer, why would she put all her jewelry into the nest with her? As he kneeled down next to her he felt himself smile a bit more.

He watched as her chest rises and falls, her hand resting on her round stomach. If he could cock a eyebrow he would as he looked down at the ruby necklace that sat on her stomach. He gently slipped a hand over her own hand and moved the necklace a bit only to be met with a hard kick to his hand making him pull away. It was a hard enough kick to make his wife whimper in her sleep and move a bit. He placed the necklace back in her stomach, it seemed the kid was happy with this and instantly stopped it’s assault inside his wife’s belly. His wife’s eyes slowly blinked open as she let out a sigh.

“Hi” she smiled up at her amazing husband, happy to see him home on time for once.

He chuckled as she gave her a kiss to the cheek and saying “ Hi there, I see the little one has been giving you a bit of trouble in the past few hours my love.” She smiled up at him before moving up a bit to sit up. She blushed as she noticed the man looking around her nest, eyeing all of the jewelry scattered around it. She scratched her neck saying “ The little one may or may not have a thing for jewelry, they can’t even see the dang things but they sure as hell want it near them, won’t stop kicking until I put something near my stomach.” Her flushed as she realized her husband was now full on laughing at her. She stomped her foot at him, trying to kick him as he sat next to her nest. His deep chuckles filled the room as he looked down at his wife.

“Don’t do that love it’s ok. The little one has a thing for shiny things like their father, it’s ok I just didn’t know that they would be this interested in them from the start.” Y/N raised a brow at her husband’s statement.

Her face blushed as she realized something. She pointed at him saying “ Don’t tell me, is this why you buy me so much jewelry? Because you have a thing for shine things?!”

He gave a small smirk saying “ To be completely honest, I have a obsession with both shiny and pretty things, that’s why I married you.” She blushed even harder at his words. Before she could stop looking at him she noticed the way his dark pants seemed to be straining, his member standing full attention in his pants as he glanced over her body, her belly covered by the ruby and diamond necklace, a few covering her legs.

She didn’t say anything.

This was going to be fun later on to exploit later.

P2-

#bnha #mha #mha imagines #bnha imagines #bnha fanfic #bnha tokoyami #mha tokoyami #bnha tokoyami imagine #tokoyami fumigake #tokoyami x reader

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madiecleanginpro · 2 years

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Top Cleaning Tips to Keep Your Home Great

Who does not want to come to a home where whatever is great clean and arranged? Wouldn't it be remarkable to feel like it is an industrial display room that interior designers established to see the area's complete capacity? While it may seem excellent to be true you can achieve that appearance within your home.

Maintaining cleanliness may be tough, particularly when you're too hectic to clean. However, did you know that a clean one includes a healthy and balanced setting that'll be safe to live in especially with kids and senior? You can also hire a corporate cleaning services for your needs. And to keep it great I listed below the cleaning tips you may need to think about:

Deep Clean Your Carpets

While vacuuming your rugs could be an everyday behavior that you practice in your family, it's not nearly enough if you desire your home to be sparkly clean. Vacuum just get the dirt, but not the factors that make your carpeting dark and gross. To wash your carpets, you can deep cleanse them for an effective cleaning procedure.

Clean Your Windows, Glass and Mirrors

Would not it be beautiful if you reach see the sight from outdoors and it's crystal-clear? It'll be amazing if you don't see any white places from dried raindrops that might destroy your view's clarity. Apart from your windows, you must additionally cleanse the mirrors in every part of your home. In most cases, the mirrors in your restroom would most-likely be foggy as these splash practically every day.

Clean Your Walls

The high quality and sanitation of your wall surfaces impact your home's overall look. Despite how clean your whole space is, if your walls are filthy, it'll not finish the appearance and vibe you're choosing one. A minimum of once a year, you need to attempt to clean your wall surfaces by wiping them from floor to ceiling for a full and refreshed appearance.

Clean Your Home Windows

In many cases, people often forget to clean their home window treatments as these typically look clean or in tip-top shape. While it may look like it, you would certainly be stunned with just how much dust these had collected when you get to clean them.

Window treatments can come in different styles and sizes. Nonetheless, the two most preferred types are drapes and blinds. With curtains, all you have to do is to take them off and wash them according to their textile kind. With blinds, you require to adhere to a specific blind cleaning overview to ensure that you're not harming the blinds however rather completely cleaning them.

Clean Down Light Fixtures

Lots of people neglect cleaning their lights when they are cleaning. Besides being high up on the ceiling, these may appear in cool problem and don't require to be touched. Well, you remain in for a surprise! A minimum of monthly and you need to clean your light fixtures to keep your home clean. This may aid to cheer up the look of your family and at the same time lengthen your fixtures' life-span.

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inadarkdarkroom · 6 years

Text

Never Lived Alone Again

Ok, here goes. Writing this out makes me want to barf.

I was a news reporter right out of college, reporting on dismal topics in dismal towns. After three or four years of this, with the help of a friend, I landed an interview at an ad agency in Cincinnati. I got a job writing speeches and press releases and doing the usual early-pr-career grunt work. After stints in Alaska and West Virginia, Cincy seemed like a metropolis, and I picked a totally refinished first-floor apartment off of Craigslist. It was $400 a month and not in a great part of town, though the landlord assured me it was changing. Besides: in West Virginia, I was living in an old furniture factory for $300 a month and kicking crackheads off the front stoop. This place sounded like paradise.

My huge black dog Dozer and I drive down the street for the first time- a library! A record store! Restaurants! I pull up to my building, a few blocks down from the retail stuff, and it’s… not at all as described. The vestibule for the apartment is caked with grime. But I already have my key and I open the door to find an almost eerily perfect apartment. Everything is brand-new. The main room is in front. White carpet, white walls, a refinished bathroom, a boring but tidy kitchen. Huge windows, high ceilings. In the back is a small bedroom with a door leading out to a tiny, three-step back stoop and a little fenced backyard.

Over the next couple of weeks my friend helps me meet people, including her friend Alan. He’s great; we kind of friend hang out and kind of boyfriend-girlfriend hang out. Who knows. I have to drive around the state a lot for work and he watches Dozer while I’m gone- I always go to his place to pick her up on my way home.

The first time I do this, I come into the back of the apartment with my bags and race to the bathroom to pee.

The seat is up, and I fall right into the toilet. I figure Alan left it up, and unpack, go running with Dozer, etc.

A couple of weeks later, I have to travel again. I leave my keys with Alan so he can pick up Dozer after he gets off work. Same routine: I pick her up two days later and go straight home, in through the back bedroom door.

I go to the bathroom and sit down again; again, I fall right into the toilet. I think: I need to ask Alan not to do this when he picks up Dozer; it’s so weird. I walk out of the other bathroom door and into the main room.

Everything there is covered with a thick layer of dust, as if I’d been gone for years.

It covers my dining room table- the stray coffee cup I’d left there. It’s sunk into my mom’s old velvet couch, on my picture frames, onto every nook and cranny of the huge yellow hutch against the wall. It’s on the windowsills, on every handle of every drawer. Only the inside handle of the front door is perfectly clean. The door is locked.

I realize the white carpet is filled with even more dust- it’s white-on-white so I hadn’t noticed. I get out the vacuum and I fill two bags. I call the (Seattle-based) landlord and say that if he’s renovating other parts of the building they need to chill on the construction dust. He says he’s “short on funds at the moment” and my renovation was and will be the only one.

After that I’m home for a couple of weeks and everything’s… fine. I figure the air ducts burped out some old gross stuff. For my next trip, the usual. I come home with Dozer and the seat’s up. I had teased Alan about it and he’d said: I’ve never used the bathroom in your apartment.

I go out into the main room and the box of pictures from college I’d dragged around for a couple years was on a dining room chair. Every spring break picture of a girl in a bathing suit, some slutty sorority-themed outfit, a towel, anything sexy… they are all arranged neatly in a grid on the dining room table. I can feel my blood rushing in my ears. I walk through every room, look under the bed, open the front hall closet with a pair of kitchen shears in my hand… nothing.

I call Alan, politely, remembering that I don’t know him all that well, not really, and ask him about the pictures. He’d seen nothing like this, he says, and doing such a thing would be “hella creepy.” I’m so afraid that I can hardly hear him. I call the landlord to see who else has keys but he’s not picking up. I call over and over.

I don’t want to leave Dozer there, I’ve just been super weird to Alan, and I don’t want to sound insane. I’m just… standing in the apartment. I end up taking a picture of the picture grid with my digital camera to prove to myself that it happened, cleaning it up, making a sad dinner, and spending the whole night talking to everyone I can think of on my flip phone (2005 y’all) until I fall asleep. The doors are locked, Dozer’s on the end of the bed, and every light is on.

I’m in the office or at home with Dozer all week. Every time I walk in my apartment I’m terrified, but it’s just her waiting, wagging her tail. I get cool about Alan again- after all, my friends know him, he’s really fun- he just doesn’t seem like the type. Still, the next time I travel, I drop Dozer off at his house and I don’t leave him a key. He insists on coming with me when I go back to the apartment. Sitting neatly in the middle of the back stoop is a small black rectangle. I bend down and pick it up. It’s the remote control for my fancy digital camera I used as a reporter. Under it is a sheet of paper. It’s a printout of PICTURE I TOOK of the grid of swimsuit pictures left on my dining room table.

Alan goes in the house for me. Everything is locked tight, and my camera- the most valuable item I own- is gone. The living room is covered with deep, pillowy dust; the front doorknob is pristine. I don’t clean anything- I leave and go to Alan’s place, where I drink as much as possible. I call the landlord again- he says he has a key in Seattle, and I have a key in Cincinnati, and that’s all he knows of.

I call the non-emergency police, but the police are swamped in 2005 Cincinnati. They tell me a neighbor probably has a copy of my key, that all the Northside landlords are grifters, to get my own deadbolt and keep valuables locked in the trunk of my car. They will take a report if I’m willing to drive to the station.

I buy deadbolts for the front and back doors. I spend as little time in the apartment as possible. I try to break the lease but the landlord won’t let me out and I can’t afford to do anything else. I spend a lot of time with Alan.

On the next trip, I come back to find my toilet seat up and a bunch of my food gone.

On the trip after that, it’s just a day and half so I ask Alan to drop in and check on Dozer, do her walks, keep her company. Nothing happens.

Trip after that: Alan takes Dozer. Everything’s normal. I check the mail, still nothing but junk circulars, same as the past two months. Nothing I order arrives, so I start having things delivered to my office. But this time when I open the front hall closet to put my coat away: there’s the entire past two months of mail. Online orders, packages from my mom and faraway friends, all my bills. They are crushed, opened, ransacked, soaking wet and streaked with dirt. I just… run. Out into the street, on this sunny day, and everything’s normal but I can’t hear, I’m too scared, and slowly I realize the street is busy and my huge dog is out here and I get myself together enough to hold her collar and sit on the curb.

I turn around to face the building. A face at the very top window, in the attic, sinks below view.

Other stuff disappears over time- a collection of coins my dad has given me from the places he’s visited, more food, any drop of alcohol I buy. But nothing ever happens to me. No one breaks in when I’m home, there are no menacing figures at the window, no creepy feelings at night- and the face in the attic starts to feel like a dream. I even go up there- it’s just a bunch of people’s extra stuff in storage. This was some asshole with a key, I decide, and I’m making a good chunk of this up. The longer things are normal, the more it fades. I barely sleep; it makes everything feel even dreamier.

And then, one night, I’m getting dressed cute to go out. I use the blackness of the long windows to check my reflection. I put on my shoes and one turns white. It’s dust again. It’s not all over like before- it’s concentrated around my huge hutch. I get out the vacuum and get to work, teetering in heels, but it’s piled around the side of the hutch, which is hard to move. I turn off the vacuum, brace my legs against the couch, and push the hutch out toward the center of the room.

In the wall is a hole the size of a man.

The dust, of course, had been from the sawing. My company put me up in a hotel after that, until I could move. My landlord let me break the lease. Later, during the process of getting a felony conviction, I learned that two men did all that stuff specifically to scare me, that they sat peeping through the gap at the back of the hutch for months. One lived in the apartment next door. The wall opened into a little pocket between the apartment stairwell and the basement. They hid it with plywood.

My neighbor described it all for me in court, smiling at me. They watched me check myself out in the full-length mirror, cook meals, watch sad movies, flirt with guys on the phone, do sit-ups, talk to Dozer, have the occasional cry, go to the bathroom- everything. They kept a hoard of snacks from my kitchen in the wall to enjoy while they passed the time. My long kitchen knife was found in the wall, plus a boning knife I didn’t recognize- but they didn’t want to come in while Dozer was home, and I was never without her. Every morning on the way to work for six months, I’d driven past a “wanted” billboard featuring one of their faces.

I have never lived alone again.

#horror #supernatural #psycho #stalker #ghost #spirit #paranormal #neighbor #dog #attic #terror #stalked #watched

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onlinejournalofidiotgirl · 4 years

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when he admitted he’d only half-fucked, or in his words, “been with but not finished”, only one other person in the 25 years he’d been alive, we were sitting criss-cross facing each other in his apartment on his birthday on the floor, a soft beige carpet. Books by the German philosopher Hedgier were spread on his left and right. It seemed he loved him in order to intensify and complicate his own Guatemalan Jewish background, which he integrated with his fierce intelligence and disgust for peasants of the mind. he was timid, soft spoken, with no need to agree or combat anyone even though his silence contributed. He was awkward and ugly. He moved in chunked movements. He was drawn to figures of violence, the politically depressed, and large scale natural modernist paintings. XXX was as passionate about these virtues and vices as I was about arguing the validity of the Kardashian’s social media presence on our societies unconscious formative thought and about hot guys I met with long hair, who only smiled at me when no one was looking, had septum piercings as well as skin diseases and alcoholism brought on by childhood sexual trauma. every person who I ever really purred or opened for had to be an artist or smarter than me.

I knew when he admitted his inexperience he was someone I could have. someone who would interpret and conclude our relationship, and me, as magic. Someone who would see me as bigger than what I was and would turn a blind eye to the transparent way I pretended to adore him. I could keep doing what I had been doing while I was alone but now there was a spectator. I could be more real to him and more than anything he’d ever seen and experienced. I could make myself more tangible than the ideas in his philosophical texts because I would let myself be grabbed at by him and I would smile big. I would expand what he knew happiness to mean even as I perceived us and him as mediocre. He was a body who could hold me on a porch in the cold as we both smoked various colors of American sprits. the closeness of our bodies gave him completion, even as I continued to feel split. I simply felt held as held while he would feel elation. I would rock his world and leave him engulfed, while I remained indifferent but entertained by his premature and unearned obsession of an untrue “us”. I was being held still.

“I want to take it slow,” he would say when I tried to fuck as we rolled around on his bed, me half naked and him clothed, with the mattress too small for the frame, leaving us to clunk around on the wooden slides below us. He complained his dick was stinging. That’s why it was a half chub, only getting as hard as the inside of a warm baguette sitting in heat. He needed to go to the doctor. he was a grower, not a shower. he inhaled between his teeth when I again tried to insert his dick into my pussy. he needed to go to the doctor, his dick was stinging. I tried to grab at it again and he sucked his spit into his teeth while cringing and raising his chin towards the ceiling in both exaltation for me and disdain for himself. I was hurting him.

Now, he is leaning up against the white stucco wall next to an outlet where my cracked iPhone is plugged in. I borrowed his charger and the carpet is warm cream against my open left palm. I move my palm in large ovals as I talk about my grandiose nature and he coos at me, assuring I am more important than I present. It is close to midnight and I am drunk and a little high after sucking on a baggy turned inside out that had once held cocaine I found in my jacket pocket next to loose tobacco. I hadn’t told anyone about the coke and instead had smiled at my pretty self in the bar’s bathroom mirror.

I knew what I was doing was wrong but went for it anyways because my head felt so safe against his shoulder. He was smart. He told me he liked the way my brain moved and encouraged me to finish the thoughts I blurted out and then apologized for clinging to nothing. He explained what was behind the Western Wall. He read me poems in Spanish and translated them on the spot. when I asked him to speak Spanish to me on the fly he got nervous, calling me ‘mami’ under a hushed breathe. I knew I had succeeded in what I set out to do; to teach him what it felt like for your world to be rocked by another person, and for me to not feel so alone.

In sexual relationships, a person’s face gives away everything they are to you. We can see all we need to know just from their face. If we need them, if they make us bigger, if they make us desirous. His face looked to me like it had been half erased, all of his features not only ordinary but washed away, like when I’d write my name in wet sand as a kid at the ocean. Back when my father still looked at my mother like a person who could make him feel okay with himself instead of a person who diluted his true potential.

we was my friend’s friend.

We had been drinking and sitting at a bus stop. we weren’t waiting for the bus we just needed a place to sit. my memories were coming in flashes and I kept kissing him.

I was injected with a tube of hormones, which I told him I had done for us. I lied to him constantly for the purpose of him believing we were actually a something. However, I wanted this new form a birth control and he was just the boy who I was currently fucking and who went with me to the clinic. my knees tucked against his thigh. I would kiss him above his ear and it would feel right. He went with me to Planned Parenthood and put the pink sticker on the back of his black truck because I told him to. After getting new birth control, we got high and I looked at him in a way where I knew I didn’t like him. He bought me books and drove me on my errands and said my dad was an asshole except this wasn’t what I wanted to hear and his intent did not matter to me. He was weak to me because of his intended strength and protection. I was mad at him for falling for my lies. He wasn’t that smart.

But he shined in his decisions. I thought his smile was unattractive. It hid his eyes and made his mouth too loud. I hated his face when he tried to lean towards for a kiss. Gross. I didn’t want him near my friends. He was a bad haircut I didn’t want seen, where you wear your hair up or always have a hood on, waiting for it to grow out. His cold grimace and tattoos were the only time I was aesthetically interested. I chose him and expected him to relent.

i could not respect him because he endured me on the prospect I looked good on him. I was bubbly and energetic. I faked sunshine with a smile and he thought I was pretty. He didn’t listen because he was lost in his own invention about the highest potential of us, which was never real. I went along with it because he was warm and kind and because I was angry about the fallacies. I gave myself to him, and the energy he put into deciding we were bigger than we were.

I went along with him because it was confusing

and exciting

to see him fulfilled in a way I wasn’t.

i was translucent

I was enthrallment

I was analyzation

your father

your mother

god

he held my cunt like the bud of a flower

it was in his hands to make blossom.

like he would have done it

and I hadn’t just actually grown this way

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jeremystrele · 5 years

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So You Think You Know The Bathroom Design Rules?

Interiors

Lauren Li

An incredible bathroom by Alexander Design inside a loft space in Los Angeles has retained much of its original features and there isn’t a single tile in sight. Photo – Nicolas Tosi.

Hecker Guthrie has not only created a space that is filled with natural light, it also functions well with a series of glass partitions that give a day-spa vibe. Photo – Shannon McGrath.

In my work as an interior designer, I’ve seen some real bathroom doozys. I’ve seen bathrooms time capsules from 1960s complete with wall to wall carpet – is there anything more gross? I’ve seen impossibly small bathrooms where you can shower, brush your teeth and do a number two all at the same time. I’ve seen one of the earliest bathrooms to be built inside a house at the grand Como House in South Yarra, it was completely charming and fascinating. I’ve seen everything from 1930s pastel coloured pedestal basins, to bright orange tiles of the seventies, blue toilets of the eighties and dolphin border tiles of the nineties. And of course, the ‘timeless’ beige on beige large format tiles from the noughties, yawn.

Bathrooms are expensive rooms in the house and like everything, in retrospect they will always bear the hallmarks of the time they were created. As new products come into the market, from water efficient tapware to Japanese toilets, my tip is to forget striving for ‘timeless’. You may find yourself with a dreadfully boring space. Live in the now and embrace gorgeous new products and ideas of what a bathroom can be. Think about how you want the space to make you feel.

If you are looking to renovate or build, here are some current ideas, and where we see the future of bathrooms heading.

Thinking About Space

The humble bathroom has evolved substantially over the years. Not only has the ‘look’ evolved, but the number of bathrooms, and where they are located has also shifted. The bathroom is now a space designed to enhance the daily ritual of bathing – a space for relaxation.

Sculptural freestanding baths can be incorporated into master bedrooms to bring serene day-spa vibes into the home. This idea of incorporating the ensuite into the bedroom isn’t brand new, and when done right, creates a lux ‘hotel’ vibe at home. However I’d recommend considering if this kind of thing is really suited to your everyday life. I’ve encountered bathrooms where a clear glass wall is all that separates the toilet from the bedside table. And this folks, is the end of romance.

Instead, consider the bathroom as an additional room in the house, as Alexander Design created in their Los Angeles project (pictured above). This spacious bathroom demonstrates just how incredible an unconventional bathroom can be when it’s treated almost as a living space. It also forgoes a single tile and instead embraces the raw materials inherent to the building.

In another example, Hecker Guthrie has masterfully designed a bathroom and master bedroom with a glass wall with the inclusion of an essential curtain (the toilet is out of view!). The spatial planning of a bathroom like this is very important.

Studio Ezra has used a gorgeous zellige mosaic tile, which is handpainted and handmade in Morocco from Tiles of Ezra. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Decus have selected a delightful pink Moroccan tile which gives the space a wonderfully cheerful atmosphere. Photo – courtesy of Decus Interiors.

A beautiful powder room painted blue that showcases the incredible stone vanity and the patterned floor by Decus Interiors. Photo – Anson Smart.

Studio Ezra designed a serene bathroom using a cement encaustic tile from Tiles of Ezra in a hexagon format over the floors and wall. Photo – Amelia Stanwix.

Add Colour

Before you freak out, we’re not talking about bright colours here. But rather than having the neutral, bathroom identical to your neighbours, consider injecting your own personality by using colour – the effect is instant.

The word ‘trend’ implies that an idea appeals to the masses, however using colour in bathrooms is almost an ‘anti-trend’, as so many of us are afraid of it in Australia.

If you’re thinking about giving this a try, you will find some absolutely gorgeous tiles on the market, the hard part is choosing. Use the tiles all over every wall, and avoid the ‘feature wall’, as too many different surfaces in the room can look overly complicated. Studio Ezra uses gorgeous colours in their designs to beautiful effect. Take a note on how they use one colour all over the walls and even the floors. The less materials used, the calmer the space feels.

A fabulous way to bring colour into the bathroom is with a vanity basin. Anyone that has been to the Milan Furniture Fair will have seen vanity basins ranging in colour from soft green and blue and a palette of neutrals. You can see a range at Design Precinct and Roger Seller, I promise they don’t look as crazy as they sound.

Decus Interiors’ Killcare House project. Photo – courtesy of Decus Interiors.

A marble vanity floats over a window in a gorgeous design by Alwill. Photo – courtesy of Alwill.

The Floating Vanity

We want our bathrooms to feel clean, airy and uncluttered. A floating vanity that is mounted to the wall allows the flooring to extend to the wall behind, and gives a feeling of spaciousness.

Are you willing to forego a few shelves of storage (‘does it spark joy?’) in an effort to create this floating feeling!?

An incredible bathroom featuring a stone bath by B.E Architecture. Photo – Peter Clarke.

Detail of Decus Interiors’ Killcare House project. Photo – courtesy of Decus Interiors.

Slabs of natural stone clad this shower paired with black tapware for a luxurious effect in this Melbourne penthouse by SJB. Photo – Nicole England.

This extraordinary double shower combines many elements that we are loving in bathrooms. Designed by Studio LifeStyle, the incredible veined marble, which even clads the ceiling of the shower and the black steel doors, black tapware and check marble floor it really is a knockout. Photo – Stephen Busken.

Raw Naturals

There is nothing quite like authentic materials. By this I mean real marble, stone and timber – not faux marble or timber-look porcelain tiles.

The innate beauty of natural materials will sway us to choose them even if they require a higher level of maintenance, and eat large chunks into our budget.

Luxurious natural stone presents a vast range of options in a bathroom, and we see it used in endless ways. From a basin carved out of solid stone to marble tapware, it seems that stone is more than a passing trend.

Large slabs of marble can clad entire showers for an opulent effect, or be used as a vanity top for a touch of luxury – just remember to keep the Shower Power away.

A stunning botanical wallpaper gives an unexpected burst of colour in an otherwise white house in Sydney by Madeline Blanchfield Architecture. Photo – courtesy of Madeline Blanchfield Architecture.

Photo – courtesy of Madeline Blanchfield Architecture.

Textured tiles in a captivating herringbone pattern in a project by Georgia Ezra. Photo – courtesy of Georgia Ezra.

A patterned floor tile adds elegance to the concrete bathroom in this richly layered space by Decus Interiors. Photo – Anson Smart.

Statement wallpaper in a bathroom by Alwill. Photo – courtesy of Alwill.

Try Pattern

It’s been so wonderful to see the use of pattern emerge in bathrooms in recent years. Patterned tiles bring a space to life and add so much personality. Cement encaustic tiles are available in an array of styles, from ornate patterns to suit traditional spaces, through to bold geometric patterns.

We are also seeing gorgeous patterned wallpaper used in powder rooms. These small spaces can be filled with an intense pattern, making for a pleasant surprise for guests paying a quick visit.

Decus Interiors give this bathroom a light and airy feel with a steel frame reminiscent of chic European hotels. Photo – courtesy of Decus Interiors.

Artedomus’ Sydney Showroom, designed by The Stella Collective and Thomas Coward. Photo – Derek Swalwell.

In their Main Ridge project Studio Griffiths selected a stunning vanity unit with a black steel frame that the cabinetry sits within. Photo – Sharyn Cairns.

A project by Carole Whiting Interiors and Design. Photo – courtesy of Carole Whiting Interiors and Design.

Black Steel Makes An Appearance

Quite simply, we’re obsessed about black fine steel profiles.

For a while there, frameless shower screens were the epitome of bathroom chic. But then… the black steel frame came along and we’re totally hooked.

You’ll find black steel legs on vanities (when they’re not wall mounted) or black steel framing mirrors. Paired with matte black tapware and you won’t look back!

The bathroom in the ‘Tamarama’ project by Decus Interiors’. Photo – courtesy of Decus Interiors.

This bathroom by Carole Whiting Interiors features various surfaces expertly combined so that it doesn’t look too busy. A white ceramic subway tile behind the vanity is paired with marble slabs in the shower walls and marble mosaics on the shower floor. Timber floors are visually warm and also feel warm underfoot. The freestanding Agape vanity basins inject this memorable bathroom with loads of personality.

Tile Layouts

A combination of large format and small tiles are often used together in bathrooms. Lately, we’ve been seeing large format tiles on the floor and halfway up the walls, with the small tiles used from halfway up the wall to the ceiling.

Alternatively (and boldly), you can use small tiles on entire walls. If mosaics are a bit too expensive (as they often are) consider just using them on the vanity wall for impact – the vanity and mirror will cover most of the wall, meaning less tiles will be needed. Whatever you do, avoid using mosaics in niches only or as feature strips, as this look is dated and the effect of the mosaics aren’t fully appreciated.

Do’s and Don’ts

Shower Niches: Don’t tile shower niches is a feature tile that is different to the surrounding wall. This highlights the shampoo stuff in the niche, which isn’t really a feature. Instead use the same tile as the wall into the niche.

Sight-lines: Plan the bathroom so that when one enters the room, the vanity is in view, and keep the toilet tucked away.

Selecting surfaces: Make sure that you are aware of the maintenance required with the surfaces you select. Strong cleaning products can eat away at porous materials such as stone, cement encaustic tiles and terrazzo. Consider if caring for the stone will suit your lifestyle. Talk to the tile or stone supplier and get advice on the slip resistance in areas such as the shower.

Lighting: The best lighting in a bathroom should be a wall mounted light beside the mirror so that we can see our faces when applying make-up or shaving. Avoid the downlight over head, it causes shadows and is really annoying. Lighting should be layered so that you have a soft dimmable light for night time visits, a bright overall light and task lighting at the vanity.

Own it: Design your bathroom to suit your lifestyle and taste. If you’re not planning to sell the property in the next 12 months then design the bathroom you, not for someone that you don’t know and try to guess their tastes.

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

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Stepping stone chapter 7

Just as Justin promised, Hale was waiting for me at eight sharp on Monday morning. I thought about how quickly the weekend flew by as I climbed through the rear passenger door that Hale held open for me.

“Thanks, Hale.”

“Yes, Miss,” he replied in his ever so sullen way. He closed the door behind me and walked around to the driver’s side of the black Porsche SUV.

As we pulled into traffic, I ran through all the information that I read in the client files for Turning Stone. There were opportunities to say the least, and Justin was right to say that the employees at Turning Stone were mediocre at best.

Or perhaps they just need a bit more direction.

The task that awaited me was a daunting one, but I was looking forward to the challenge. When I thought about the long workdays ahead of me, I reconsidered my start time. An eight o’clock start may not suffice if I had any hopes of having free time in the evenings. I looked to Hale, wondering if he would be my ride to work each day.

Surely, I can’t expect him to chauffeur me daily.

“Has Justin instructed you to pick me up every morning?” I asked him.

“No, Miss,” was all he said. I pursed my lips and frowned at his reply.

Yes, Miss. No, Miss. Aren’t you a regular ole chatterbox.

I should not have been surprised by his short responses, as they were in typical Hale fashion. I just wanted someone to talk to, in a shoot-the-shit kind of way. I was full of restless energy, excited for my first day at Turning Stone. I thought that I might be apprehensive about working for Justin, but after spending all day Saturday and Sunday going through the client files, I couldn’t stop the enthusiasm from bubbling over. This opportunity was what I had been waiting so long for.

However, excited or not, I knew how challenging Justin could be on a personal level. I wondered how difficult he would be to work for.

“Is it hard to work for Justin?” I mused the question aloud to Hale. He just smiled at me through the review mirror. “Come on, Hale. You packed my underwear into a duffle bag just a few days ago. I think we can drop a few of the formalities.”

He snorted at my statement, his face showing more emotion than I had ever seen before. When he spoke, there was a hint of humor in his voice.

“No, Miss. Mr. Stone is not hard to work for.”

“That’s all you can say? You can’t give me just the teeniest bit of insight?” I teased.

To my disappointment, he remained silent as we continued the short drive.

I should be happy that he said that much.

I stared out the window at the passing streets, contemplating how my first day might go. When we eventually pulled up to Cornerstone Tower, my excitement had turned into a ball of nerves.

Hale got out of the SUV first and came around to open the door for me. When I stepped out onto the pavement, he took hold of my elbow.

“Miss Cole,” he said, startling me. I couldn’t believe that he was actually speaking to me without being asked.

“Yes, Hale,” I replied, waiting patiently for whatever it was he was about to say.

“Mr. Stone instructed me to tell you that he will meet you in the lobby. Reception will call up to tell him that you have arrived.”

“Oh, um…. Thank you.”

I thought that would be it, but he didn’t release his hold on my arm.

“One more thing. I can see that you’re nervous,” he said and looked pointedly to my hands that I hadn’t realized were fidgeting. “Don’t worry. Mr. Stone may come across as hard, but he’s not as bad as you might think he is. He has a good soul.”

And with that, he turned and climbed back into the vehicle. I stood on the curb, stunned speechless, watching as he pulled away.

Well…okay, then.

I looked up at the looming building before me, an impressive structure topped with a sleek ornamental spire. A feeling of déjà vu settled over me. The nerves that rattled me were very similar to the ones that I had when I came here for the first time.

The interview.

I smiled to myself when I thought about that day.

If I only knew how drastically my life would change…

The thought put me strangely at ease. Feeling more confident, I pushed through the turnstile doors. I was ready to start a new day. And a new life.

****

I stepped out of the elevator and made my way through the lobby to where Selena was waiting for me. My eyes traveled up the length of her. She looked polished in her mint green suit jacket and skirt, yet still sexy as hell. The color complimented her creamy skin and chestnut curls. I had forgotten how good she looked in shades of green. Even so, I still wanted to rip the clothes from her body.

She’s damn hot. It’s going to be hard keeping things strictly to business during the day.

“Miss Cole,” I said when I approached her.

“Good morning, sir.”

Sir.

My cock gave a slight twinge at that one little word, having rarely heard it come from her lips.

Hard is an understatement. It’s going to be near impossible to keep my hands off of her if she continues to address me like that.

“Let’s keep it to Mr. Stone when we’re at work,” I told her. Then I winked and whispered, “You can call me ‘sir’ later.”

Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed a delectable pink.

“Justin, not here,” she hissed. “We have to try to keep it professional.”

I flashed her a cocky grin and took hold of her elbow.

“No promises, angel.” Leading her to the bank of elevators, I punched the button that would take us up to Turning Stone Advertising. “Your offices are located on the thirty-seventh floor. I recently had the floor completely remodeled. I trust that you’ll find it to your liking.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” she said as the elevator started to ascend. I glanced at her and saw that she was twisting her hands. I turned and boxed her in against the wall between my arms.

“Why are you nervous?”

“Starting a new job is always a bit nerve wracking, Justin.”

I leaned in, wanting to take a bite out of her, but the elevator pinged to signal that we had stopped. A computerized voice announced that we were at the nineteenth floor.

Not our floor.

I quickly stepped away, just in time for the doors to open. A man joined us in the five by five space. Dark hair. Early twenties if I had to guess.

Patrick something or another. Mailroom employee.

I tensed when I saw the way he looked at Selena.

Keep your eyes to yourself, buddy.

He glanced up and saw that I was watching him. He quickly averted his attention to a random spot in the corner of the elevator.

That’s right. She’s mine.

The doors opened again and the employee got out.

“Jealousy is not very becoming on you, Justin,” Selena remarked after the doors closed once more.

“What?”

“I saw the way you stared down that poor boy. I’m sure it was innocent on his part. Seriously, I’m the new girl. People are going to stare for a minute. It’s normal until they figure out who I am.”

I stared at her, completely awed by how oblivious she was to her beauty.

The elevator chimed again, this time announcing that we had reached the thirty-seventh floor. The doors slid open to reveal a long corridor of offices. The smell of new carpet and fresh paint assaulted us. I pinched up my nose and wondered how long the smells would linger for.

“Here we are, angel. Turning Stone Advertising,” I announced.

“You probably shouldn’t call me that when we are here,” she whispered.

“It’s fine for now. Nobody’s here at the moment. I’ve instructed the staff to tie up loose ends at the old office this morning. Your team will join you after lunch. I figured that you might want the morning to yourself to get acclimated.”

We walked down the main hallway and I pointed to the various offices that employees would use. I led her into one of the large design rooms that could be used for both client meetings and strategy planning.

“Wow, Justin! I couldn’t ask for this space to be laid out any better,” she walked around the long oval conference table and over to the large windows on the far wall. “The lighting in here is simply fantastic.”

“It is, but my designer thought differently. She said that you might find the late afternoon sun to be somewhat of a hindrance. She had an automatic shade installed so that the light doesn’t interfere with the flat screens and white board. You’ll probably want to explore this room more extensively later. There’s quite a bit of equipment at your disposal.”

Her eyes were wide as she took in the rest of the room.

“I can see that,” she murmured as her eyes settled on the state of the art stereo, audio, and recording systems that she could utilize for radio advertisements.

“Follow me this way. There’s more for you to see,” I told her, anxious for her to see the space that was designed specifically for her.

We walked to the far end of the hallway, where the doublewide glass doors for Selena’s main office faced us. Turning Stone Advertising had been etched into frosted glass in a large swirling black font, with her name imprinted right below it.

Turning Stone Advertising

Selena Cole

Chief Executive Officer

“Fancy,” she commented. “Wait. That says Chief Executive Officer.”

“Yes. So it does.” I chuckled as I pushed through the glass doors. “Welcome to your new office, Miss Cole.”

I was trying to process why in the world he would have me titled the CEO, when my breath caught in my throat. The office – my office – was more than I could have ever imagined. To say that it was stunning would be a gross understatement. I was speechless, unable to utter a single word, as I took in the magnificent space.

The room was wide, traveling the entire length of the building, with my own private restroom. Floor to ceiling windows flanked the north and south walls. Plush armchairs were arranged around a glass-topped table to form a seating area off to my right. A mini bar, which included an elaborate coffee machine, was to my left. The fact that he remembered my penchant for caffeine made me smile.

A polished wood desk sat centered on the west wall, made of an eclectic blend of reclaimed antique hardwoods that was simply stunning. However, despite the beauty of the craftsmanship, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the artwork that was behind it.

It was a mural of a single white lily against a black and gray backdrop. It spanned the entire length of the room. The colors swirled together in a downward pattern, creating a waterfall effect with the lily as the focal piece. Above the lily, a quote was inscribed.

“There's something which impels us to show our inner souls. The more courageous we are, the more we succeed in explaining what we know.”

-Maya Angelou

The quote was one of my favorites.

“Do you like it?” Justin asked. If I wasn’t mistaken, he sounded nervous.

“Like it? Justin, I…” I trailed off, unable to find the right word to describe what I was thinking. “Everything is perfect.”

“Because of all the framed quotes that you have in your bedroom, I thought it was safe to assume that you had a fondness for Maya Angelou. I picked a quote that I felt best suited you.”

I looked at him then, having realized that I hadn’t given him enough credit. His attention to detail and the way the office was crafted specifically to reflect my personality, showed how well he knew me. Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, I blinked at the sting of tears that were beginning to form.

“I couldn’t have picked a better quote myself. Really, Justin. Everything is beyond compare,” I said sincerely.

“I just wanted you to be happy and comfortable here, angel. I know that you were apprehensive about taking the job.”

“Well, you’re doing a fantastic job of convincing me that this was the right decision,” I laughed.

“Good, because there is one more thing. I made a few modifications to the contract that I originally presented to you. I think that you’ll find the adjustments in your favor. I left it for you in the top drawer of your desk. Take your time and look it over,” he said. He kissed the top of my head and moved towards the door.

“Wait, you’re leaving? Don’t you want to go over it with me?”

“I have to get back for an appointment. If you need anything or have any questions about it, you can find me in my office.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll probably be up a little later,” I said distractedly, still trying to take in my surroundings.

After he was gone, I looked more closely at my office space, wanting to absorb every single detail of it. I smiled to myself and wanted to squeal with delight. Walking behind my new desk, I took a seat. As I pulled out the revised contract, Allyson’s words echoed in my mind.

You were right, Ally.

Things are definitely turning out better than I thought they would.

****

I sat at my desk and looked over the invoices for the upcoming fundraiser. I pinched the bridge of my nose and looked at the clock. I still had a lot to prepare for before tomorrow.

I don’t have time to be dealing with this.

Normally, I would have passed this sort of task on to Bryan to handle. However, Justine was adamant that we go through everything together.

I should be with Selena right now.

I was anxious to see how she would react to my new offer. The contract that I left for her was not an employment contract, but a transfer of ownership. I didn't want her financial stability to be looming over our relationship. Turning Stone would all be hers once she signed on the dotted line.

The phone on my desk buzzed.

“Mr. Stone, Ms. Andrews is here to see you,” Laura said through the speaker.

“Send her in please.”

Justine, as usual, entered my office like a whirlwind.

“Justin, I feel like my head is spinning. The fundraiser is less than a week away and I’m running out of time. I need to steal Laura from you for a couple of days.”

“That’s not happening, Justine. I have a major deal closing tomorrow with Canterwell, and I need her too much at the moment. You’re going to have to handle this yourself,” I told her firmly. I knew that Justine was perfectly capable, but she lacked the confidence at times.

“Fine. Be that way. But if something isn’t done right, don’t blame me,” she said petulantly.

“I hate it when you pout,” I said with a frown.

“I’m also worried about Charlie showing up. I don’t know why, but it’s always in the back of my mind.”

I took a deep breath and tried not to lose my patience over her obsession with her ex-husband showing up unannounced. In my eyes, she was acting paranoid.

“You need to relax. Don’t worry about Charlie. I handled him. Things will be fine. I just read over the invoices. You’ve done a fantastic job. This will be the most profitable fundraiser that The Stoneworks Foundation has put on yet.”

“The numbers work, but I wish I could have cut down on a few of the costs. I’m hoping that the silent auction makes up for it. That’s what I wanted to go over with you. I figured you might see an opportunity that I missed.”

“Well, there is –.”

The door to my office came crashing open. Selena was red faced and holding the contract that I left in her desk.

“Are you out of your mind?” she exclaimed. Laura was trailing in her wake.

“Mr. Stone. I’m so sorry. She just – she wouldn’t listen,” Laura sputtered. I had never seen my assistant so flustered. I smiled to myself.

Welcome to my world.

“It’s fine, Laura. I’ll handle it,” I assured her before looking to Selena. “Selena, have a seat.”

“I will not have a seat, Justin! You need to explain this!” she yelled, waving the fistful of papers around angrily.

“Selena, sit down,” I said more firmly. I motioned to Justine. “I’d like you to meet my sister, Justine Andrews.”

“Your sister? Oh!” Selena’s flushed face turned ten shades redder when she noticed Justine sitting there. She shook her head as she tried to collect herself. “Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. You must think I’m crazy. I’m Selena Cole. It’s nice to meet you.”

Selena walked over to Justine and held out her hand. Justine was wide eyed as she accepted the handshake. She looked as if she had been stunned into silence. More than likely, she was shocked that I allowed a scene such as this to happen. Nobody ever came to my office unannounced, let alone screaming and yelling. Justine knew that better than anyone.

I looked at the two women. They were among the most exasperating individuals that I had ever encountered. I contemplated how I should handle them being in the same room together.

I leaned forward and propped my elbows on the desk.

“Selena is taking over the Turning Stone division of Stone Enterprise. Today is her first day,” I informed Justine. “She has yet to learn the protocol.”

“Yes, about that,” Selena began, but I didn’t let her finish.

“Justine and I were in a meeting. We were going over some of the numbers for the charity gala this Friday. Since you are going to be my date, perhaps you’d like to partake in our discussion.”

“Your date?” Justine choked out, having finally found her voice.

“Yes. I told Selena about your Moulin Rouge vision. She thinks it’s a great idea.”

“I do?” questioned Selena, obviously taken aback. I smiled innocently at her.

“You do. In fact, we’ll be going shopping on Wednesday for the appropriate attire. What do you suggest we wear, Justine?” I asked, turning back to the other incorrigible woman in my life.

“Oh, um…” she trailed off as her eyes shifted back and forth between Selena and me. “The women will be in cabaret style dresses, the men in coat tails and top hats. There’s a great shop on West 25th Street. They have an excellent selection of vintage style clothing for the occasion.”

“It’s settled then. That’s where we will go,” I announced.

Daggers were shooting from Selena’s eyes, and they were aimed straight at me. She was seething, but I could tell that she was trying to keep her temper in check in front of Justine. For some odd reason, I found the situation to be incredibly amusing.

“Sounds perfect,” Selena said, her voice laden with sarcasm. “I’m going to go and let you two finish up. It’s nearing lunchtime, so I expect that the Turning Stone employees will be arriving shortly. I want to be there to greet them.”

She looked as though she wanted to stomp her foot. I had to put my tongue in my cheek to contain my grin as I watched her stalk from the room. Once she was gone, Justine rounded on me.

“What was that all about?” she demanded.

“It was nothing.”

“Justin, I know you too well. That wasn’t nothing. She wasn’t nothing.”

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. I rubbed my hands over my face, already exhausted from the conversation. My relationship with Selena was my own personal business. Justine did not need to know the details of it.

“It’s complicated. I’d prefer to not get into it.”

Justine eyed me suspiciously for a moment, before her eyes went as wide as saucers.

“Oh my god! Are you dating her? Like, really dating her?”

“What if I am?”

“For starters, you never date. Secondly, she’s an employee. Since when do you mix business with pleasure?”

“That’s not your concern,” I told her firmly, not bothering to mention that Selena’s employment status would change the minute the new contract was signed. Technically, she will no longer be working for me, but for herself.

Justine crossed her legs and looked pointedly at me, but my determination to maintain my privacy was unyielding as I stared her down. She looked away and began picking at a chip in her finger nail polish.

“She doesn’t look like your type,” she mused.

“I didn’t realize that my type had a look,” I replied dryly, but she just ignored my comment.

“I don’t think bringing her to the gala is a good idea, Justin. Suzanne will be there.”

“Christ, not this again!” I threw my hands in the air, having finally gotten to the root of what Justine’s thought process was. I was incensed that she would even bring Suzanne into question.

“Come on, Justin! Don’t be insensitive. You know that she’ll be crushed to see you with someone else.”

I shook my head and took a deep breath.

“I can’t help that, and you know that as well as I do. I’ve always just considered Suzanne a friend and nothing more. The minute I realized that she had other ideas, I stopped asking her to accompany me to various functions. I know that you are loyal to her, but I could never give her what she was looking for.”

“Yeah, so you’ve said,” she commented with a smirk. “I believe you told her something about not being the dating kind.”

“That’s correct,” I said cautiously.

“Suzanne knows a lot about our past, Justin.”

I was about to tell her that I told Selena nearly everything already, and that it was no thanks to Justine’s big mouth that Selena was alerted to the past in the first place. However, I stopped short when I saw the worried expression on her face. Justine told Suzanne everything. I knew that.

How much does Suzanne know exactly?

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you’re playing with fire, Justin. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

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itswiseluminarycollection-blog · 7 years

Text

Fifty Shades of Orange

A Parody of EL James’s Fifty Shades of Gray By MJ Stroh

CHAPTER EIGHT

Roland is running his bijou fingers through his wispy reddish-orange fading-to-gray hair and is pacing naked in front of his floor-to-ceiling length golden-gilded mirror admiring his reflection, stopping to stare deeply into his own eyes. Suddenly, he screws up his face and grimaces back at me. His usual petulant demeanor seems to have ramped up a notch.

“I don’t understand,” he half-purrs, half-growls at me.

“The subject never came up. I don’t typically reveal the history of my weight to everyone I meet. I mean, I don’t know much about you other than you work for the government and you live in Washington, D.C.” I’m staring at my hips that used to be 20 lbs. heavier. Why am I feeling guilty? Why is he so mad?

“Well. I do care. I care a lot,” he snips, his lips pursing into a sphincter. “I only like women who are tens. The fact is…you used to be huge. Fat.” He spits it out like it’s a filthy word. “Hell, Tabby, I just grabbed your pussy, which is funny. Very funny. Because a tabby is a pussy. See? So funny. But now…” he groans. “May I forgive myself. When you were a fat pig, did anyone ever even kiss you? I mean, that’s gross, right?”

“Of course they did.” I try my best to look hurt. Okay…it was middle school and I was beautiful then, thin and perfect.

“Well. Okay. As long as you promise not to ever eat anything fatty again, and exercise four hours per day, and not get piggy. Okay? You’re what, twenty-one? You remind me of my daughter. So hot.”

So hot. I flush with ecstasy. Roland Orange thinks I’m hot. I stare at him through my knotted fingers, trying to hide my goofy smile.

“Don’t do that,” Roland tells me. “You look stupid. So stupid. It’s one thing to have been a fatty.” His overly large brows knit together into one. “How did you lose the weight? Tell me, please.”

I shrug.

“I don’t really know… I didn’t eat much I guess. I ran six miles every day.” I desperately want to please this Adonis standing in front of me. I want him to want me. “Why are you so angry with me?” I whisper.

“I’m not angry with you. That’s a lie. That’s fake news. You know it. I know it. Don’t lie. It’s not attractive…” He regards me shrewdly and then shakes his head. “How much do you want me?”

“I want you...a lot. Do you...um...want me?” I mumble. Fear rises up in me. Have I gone too far? Oh no…Please don’t make me leave.

“Of course I want you. Look at me. I’m naked. I’m beautiful. I’m so beautiful.” He looks again at his image in the mirror. His white pasty stomach falls in gentle rolls over his neatly shaved and waxed pubis. “You’re biting your lip.” His nasal voice intones, and he’s eyeing me, mouth open in anticipation.

“Sorry.”

“Of course you are sorry. Women generally are. It’s just that I want to bite it. I want to bite your lip. I want to bite it so hard. It will be the best bite you have ever felt. Believe me.”

I gasp…how can he say things like that to me and not cause me to want to take him into my body and ride him like the magnificent whale that he is?

“Come,” he murmurs.

“What?”

“Do you want to buy some furniture?”

“What do you mean? What… furniture?”

“Furniture, Tabby. That’s how I move on women. We buy furniture. I move on them like a bitch. Sometimes I fuck them. It’s so hot. Believe me.” He sees my confused face. “Never mind. Let’s just fuck. I’m going to fuck you right now. Okay.”

“Oh.” My stomach drops. My heart races. He’s going to fuck me. I’m holding my breath. My mouth is suddenly dry with anticipation.

He stretches his lips out into what I assume can only be a smile, kind of like the clown from IT, the effects of which travel all the way down there.

“Okay. So let’s go. First, I really want to fuck you. Grab your pussy. All that. Listen. I want this to work. You need to know, I am very important. Very important. So important. The most important man…who has ever…lived. It’s true. I am. I am smart. I know so many words. It’s amazing. How many words I know. So many. I have many expec…I have many things I want. I will train you to give me what I want. Don’t expect flowers. Or jewelry. Those gifts are lame. So lame. My gift to you is my penis.” His gaze is intense.

He struts facing away from me, and I can see a single hemorrhoid protruding from his deliciously crusted asshole like the blood-engorged snood on a male turkey. I can feel myself get wet as I marvel at its beauty. The fine layer of downy hair that lay in an orangish blanket over his ample buttocks parts slightly as the snood pulses to the beat of his heart. I flush red…oh my…dreams do come true.

“But I haven’t done all the things you require from your list of rules,” my voice is breathy, seductive. I so want this man.

“Forget about the rules. So silly. Rules. People say there are rules. There are no rules. Only my rules. And I say rules are stupid. So stupid. I want you. That’s the only rule that matters. I’ve wanted you since I met you backstage at Miss Teen USA. You probably don’t remember me. I didn’t really meet you. I was in the closet. Watching you. Never mind why. It’s not important. And I know you wanted me. Even though you didn’t know I was there. I could see it in your eyes. I think it was you. So many young women. Nice breasts. No fatties.” He holds his hand out to me, his eyes are glassy, opaque. Excited, I put my hand in his. He pulls me up against himself, and I can feel his short, bulbous erection boring into my belly button, this swift action taking me by surprise. He grabs me by my ponytail, wraps it around his wrist, and sharply pulls on it, forcing me to look up at him.

“You have a pretty mouth,” he rasps.

His words set my loins on fire, and he leans down and sticks his tongue deep into my mouth, flicking it around like a mullet flopping desperately on the beach. I can taste garlic and Tic Tacs. Mint flavored.

“I want to bite your tongue. Make it bleed,” he mumbles. He takes my tongue in his teeth and bites down. Hard. I yelp, and he shows me his teeth in what I can only assume is a smile.

“Please, Tabby, let me fuck you so hard.”

“Yes,” I whisper, because that’s why I’m here. His smile trumps every doubt I ever had as he releases me, smacks me on my ass, and walks five steps ahead of me through the penthouse.

His bedroom is vast. The ceiling-high windows look out on Manhattan. The walls are gilded with gold, and the furnishings are gold. The enormous bed is gold-plated, made of brilliant sheets of pure gold, four posts made of gold. On the wall above it is a stunning golden-hued painting of Roland Orange.

I am quaking in my boots. This. Is. It. Finally. The time is here. I’m going to do it. With none other than Roland Orange. My breath is faint, and I can’t take my eyes off of him. He reaches back through his downy “carpet” that matches his “drapes,” and pushes his snood back into his anus. He faces me, his full nakedness catches my breath. His penis is delightful. Fully erect, I see that it is bi-colored, a mottled tangerine on top and a blinding white on the bottom. It is almost literally an Orange Creamsicle Dream come true, and it is mine, all mine! He is heart-stoppingly beautiful. His exquisite hair is folded over on the side of his head, his large womanly nipples are poking out from his breasts—his gray eyes flat and soulless. He steps out of his white golf shoes and takes off his socks. Roland Orange’s feet…wow…what is it about naked feet? Turning, he gazes at me, his expression immutable.

“I assume you’re on the pill.”

What? Shit.

“That’s what I thought,” he responds. “Be prepared. It’s going to be hot in here. I’m going to take off all your clothes. All of them. You’re going to be naked. So naked. Can’t wait. You’re going to love this. I’m very good at sex. So good. Believe me.”

“But I’m not,” I struggle to tell him the truth.

“Who says we’re going to sleep?”

What? I’m confused, but all I say is, “Oh.” Holy hell.

He lurches toward me, confident, sexy, eyes glazed over from his own sexual arousal. My heart begins to pound in my chest. My blood is racing to the walls of my vagina, thick and hot, I anticipate his three inch cock pounding me. My belly quivers as my nipples harden. He stands in front of me, a sea of flabby orange and white. He turns away from me and looks up to admire his reflection in the mirrored ceiling. He is so freaking hot.

“Let’s get this dress off you, shall we?” he says seemingly to no one in particular, and takes hold of the sleeves and tries to pull it over my head. It catches on my arms which I quickly raise to try to help him, but he wrenches my arms upwards anyway. I cry out in pain. “Stop yelling. It’s annoying.” He finally gets the dress off, uses it to wipe his sweaty brow, and throws it on the floor.

“You look so much like my daughter, Tabby Ferris. I want to fuck you.” My breath hitches. I want him so badly. He turns me around and grabs my ass with his delicate hands.

“Do you have any idea how much I want this ass? What I want to do with it? I have plans. Big plans. We’ll start slow. Skittles. I’m going to stick Skittles in your ass and dig them out with my tongue. It’s going be great. You’re going to love it. Everyone does. Then, after you can handle Skittles, I’m going to use Chewy Spree, but not the purple ones. Purple Chewy Spree…so disgusting. And I’m going to dig those out of your ass with my tongue too. Just like the Skittles. I’m going to train your ass. You’ll see. And then I’m going to put Mentos in your ass. Mentos and a funnel. After I put the Mentos in your ass, I’m going to insert the funnel and then I’m going to pour Diet Coke in your ass. It will make a beautiful fountain. An ass-fountain. It will be the greatest ass-fountain God ever created. Believe me. It’ll be great. Your ass will literally explode with Mentos and Diet Coke. It’s going to be spectacular. And then I’m going to drink it. I’m going to drink the Diet Coke as it shoots out of your ass. So phenomenal.”

The muscles inside the deepest part of my vagina clench in the most delectable fashion. My clit grows and hardens in anticipation, and I can feel the deep ache of wanting this man inside of me. The pain is so sweet and agonizing I want to look away, but I’m hypnotized by his watery bloodshot eyes staring fervently at his own reflection. Leaning down, he licks my ass. His fully pouty lips are demanding, firm and slow. “Why is your bra still on? I don’t touch bras. They’re disgusting.” I quickly take it off and put it to the side. “Don’t let it touch me. Throw it over there. I don’t want to see it.” He shivers involuntarily. I fling the bra across the room and it lands fully hidden behind the obviously once-living tiger perched in front of his picture window. Thank heavens.

“Oh, Tabby,” he breathes. “I have the most beautiful skin, pale and flawless. I want you to kiss every single inch of it.”

I flush. Oh my. I will do anything he asks. He grasps my breasts, pinches my nipples. “Stop wasting my time.” I obey immediately and start kissing him on his hairy dimpled belly.

“I like young women,” he breathes, and with both of his hands, he grabs my head and pushes it down to his groin. He is demanding. I take his belly and lift it out of the way of his cock. “Hurry up. Suck it. Kiss it.” I marvel momentarily at his ball sack and begin to kiss it passionately. He stands over me, teabagging me and I see that it Roland Orange has just one single large testicle hanging provocatively down, swinging between his sturdy man legs. One hand remains in my hair and jerks me up and the other travels down my spine to my backside and inserts a finger there. He puts his free arm around me and presses me against his flaccid body, squeezing me tightly. He holds me against what I can only assume are his hips, their sharp contours hidden by his enormous gut, and I feel his erection, which he listlessly pushes into me.

I moan deliciously. I can hardly contain the unruly hormones that tear through my body like a bull in a china shop. I want him so badly. Gripping his upper arms, I feel his humeri. His muscles are surprisingly…soft…weak. Tentatively, I move my hands up to his face and into his hair. He smacks me across my face, the blow coming unexpectedly. “Never.” He looks me in my eyes for the first time, and I can see…anger? I quickly avert my eyes. He drags me toward the bed, and I think he’s going to push me onto it, but he doesn’t. “Tabby, you broke the rules. You’re going to have to be spanked.”

What?

“You touched my hair. That’s against the rules. So now I’m going to spank you. Hard. You’ll like it. Everyone always does.”

“I thought there were no rules. You said”

He interrupts me. “I did not say that. Of course there are rules. You’re a liar. I never said there were no rules. Look at the tape.”

“What tape?”

“Never mind. There is no tape. Still. Time to spank you. Bend over my lap.” Roland sits on the bed and indicates where I should bend over. When I don’t immediately comply, he twists my arm and forcefully bends me over. “Now, what do you say about touching my hair?” “

I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“I’m sorry…who? Remember the rules. I like rules. Rules are made to be followed.” He rubs my bare ass and I could feel his erection harden even more, poking me violently in my side.

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

“Who’s a bad girl?” He commences spanking me, whack! Ouch, that hurts.

“I am.”

“Who’s daddy’s bad girl?” Whack! I tried not to cry out for fear of angering him further.

“I am daddy’s bad girl.”

“That’s a good girl. This hurts me more than it hurts you. Call me daddy again.”

“Daddy.”

“Ah,” he groans. After ten smacks, he lets me go and falls to his knees in front of me. He lifts me up and pushes my legs over my head, exposing my sex. He puts his mouth there hovering just above my ripe clitoris, forcing me to wait in delirious expectation. His mouth drops down a little south and he kisses my anus instead. It is so unexpected and hot. My hands stay clear of him, not daring to touch his hair again as I try to quiet my too-loud breathing. He gazes up at me through impossibly bushy eyebrows, his eyes smoky and distant, like he is thinking of someone else. “Если вы остаетесь тихо про обезьян-капуцинов, я дам вам ядерные коды.” Without taking his eyes off me, he continues, “Я хочу, чтобы ты растереть меня в моей заднице.” His hands glide slowly up my thighs to my backside, spreading my cheeks as he goes. I cannot look away. He stops and licks his lips, never making eye contact. He leans forward and runs his nose up the crevice delineating my buttocks. It is exquisite.

“You smell so good,” he rasps, and closes his eyes, a look of pure pleasure on his face, and I practically convulse in rapture.

Still kneeling, he takes my foot and takes off one of my high-heeled shoes that I got at Nordstrom’s for 80% off. I raise myself up on my elbows to see what he’s doing. I’m panting…deep in desire. He lifts my shoe off and peers at the brand name and looks at me. I smile winningly at him, my happiness clearly showing. A dark look descends over his face and he says a word I can’t make out and turns away from me. I fall suddenly into a sharp melancholy. What have I done to make this beautiful creature angry? Nevertheless, I persist. I am so wet, I can hardly stand it. He stands up. His penis is angry. He stabs it into my slick vagina, ferociously hammering, so hard and deep that the fat head of his penis nearly reaches my cervix. I gasp. He slams his penis into me again and again, harder and harder, faster and faster. Shit. I groan…how can this be so terrifying and yet so supreme? He orgasms inside of me and falls back, energy spent. I think about clearing up his misunderstanding about me being on the pill, but instead I lay perfectly still, not wishing to anger him more. I can hear a soft noise coming from his mouth, a noise I can only assume is some form of chuckle.

“Oh, Tabby, what I could do to you,” he huffs. He removes my other shoe as he stares admiringly at his cleanly shaved pubis. I’m lying on his bed completely naked. He is lost in self-adulation. “I’m very beautiful, Tabitha Ferris. I can’t wait to show you something.”

Holy shit. His words. He’s so charming. So sexy. He takes my breath away.

“Show me your tattoos. I want to see.”

What? I frown.

“Don’t be shy, Tabby, show me,” he gargles.

I shake my head. “I don’t know what you mean.” My voice is soft, confused, fearful… seduced. I hardly recognize it, this wanting, this insane sexual desire for this perfect man.

“Where are your tattoos hidden? I want to see.”

I shake my head again, eyes downturned, embarrassed at my inadequacy. He raises his sexy caterpillar eyebrows, astonished for a moment, but his eyes darken as he shakes his head in disgust.

“Well, we’ll have to see what we can do about that.” His voice is harsh, challenging me to disagree with him. I am so turned on, my senses on fire, my body aching in anticipation for what Roland Orange has in store for me. He gets up suddenly and walks across the room and gestures for me to follow him. “I’m going to show you something amazing.” His voice is gruff, challenging, a scrumptious sensuous threat. I follow him into his cavernous closet. He slowly pushes apart a row of pants to reveal a light at groin level. He turns it on and aims it carefully at his expertly shaved and waxed genitalia. The light is extremely bright, and I shade my eyes to prevent my retinas from being burned. His eyes are on his penis the entire time. He suddenly turns and backhands me across my face sending me tumbling to the ground. “Don’t stand in my presence. Kneel. Always kneel.” This is getting so hot. Unbelievably, I am wet again. Down there. I can hardly contain myself as I await whatever delicious secret Roland Orange is about to divulge to me. My blood pounds in my ears and in my cheek where I can feel a slight bruise rising up. You know what they say? Pain is just weakness leaving the body.

“Keep still,” he croaks, and then he turns and claps his hands together twice. The lights in the closet magically turn off revealing nearly total darkness. I am momentarily confused when his familiar gritty voice says, “Look. In the direction of my voice. Isn’t it…beautiful?”

I am unable to answer him because my voice catches in my throat. My heart flutters. There…in a perfect scrawl tattooed across his smooth pelvic girdle, lit up in brilliant gold is this single word: ORANGE.

“It’s invisible glow-in-the-dark ink. I had it specially made. So terrific. It is the best invisible glow-in-the-dark ink in the world. Made just for me. Don’t you love it? It’s terrific.” He opens his mouth and grits his teeth in what I can only assume is a smile.

I am in shock. I have never seen anything so elegant. He leans down over me and grasping each of my ankles, quickly jerks my legs apart, and points to my own pubic area. He hovers over me poking me with his dainty fingers. “Right here. We’ll write it right here. Won’t that be perfect?”

After a quick call to his tattoo artist, I am strapped down to a gurney, still naked, my legs spread exposing my sex. My wrists and ankles are tied tightly to its steel frame. The new man standing over me looks like he could be Roland Orange’s son but with blond hair and pointy teeth. He looks to be about 30 and doesn’t talk much, just nods and grunts. His eyes are odd like someone who’s not all there.

“Keep still,” Roland Orange scolds me, and then he leans down and kisses the spot where I am to be marked, breathing in deeply as he does so. He just kisses and kisses the same spot over and over. He never even moves an inch.

Oh…I can’t keep still. How can I not move? I wriggle in pleasure. The night isn’t over yet, and so much has happened!

“We’re going to have to work on keeping you still, Tabby.” He taps my belly with his underdeveloped fingers, and then the man who looks like he could be his son but with blond hair commences to drilling into the soft flesh of my cleanly shaved vaginal area with indelible glow-in-the-dark ink, golden in color. My skin is burning. I’m flushed, too hot, too cold, and I’m clawing the cold exposed steel of the gurney beneath me. For the first time tonight, Roland Orange fingers my vagina. “Don’t move,” he chokes. Roland gazes down as his tattoo artist finishes, and he gently cups my vagina, careful not to touch the newly minted tattoo. “I love this,” he sniffles.

“You fit in my hand perfectly, Tabby,” his voice gritty, and he traces the outline of his name on my skin with the petite index finger of his right hand. He suddenly smacks the tattoo, the sharp blow causing me to cry out in pain. He repeats the process with the Lilliputian index finger of his left hand. “You’re mine,” he caws. Roland Orange looks at me with a sudden urgency. My breasts swell, and my nipples harden as he gazes at his reflection in the gurney.

“Very nice,” he whispers appreciatively. He winks at himself. My nipples harden even more. Oh, please, I beg internally as my fingers clasp the bonds that steel me to the gurney. “I’m going to see if I can make myself come. I’m going to stroke my penis. It’s going to be great,” he chirps. My nipples feel like they’re going to explode as I watch him pleasure himself. “Oh, Yes. So good. So very good. I am so amazing. I love sex. I’m so good. Oh, yes. Fantastic.” Every single nerve ending in my body is set afire as I watch this dreamboat pleasure himself to orgasm. My whole body sings. He just doesn’t stop.

“Oh…please,” I beg, and I tilt back my head, my mouth open as I groan, my legs stiffening. Holy hell, what’s happening. “Come in my mouth. Please.”

“Oh yes,” he chortles. “It’s all for you. Take my seed. Do it. In your mouth. So hot. I am so hot.” His mouth drops open revealing his teeth in what I can only assume is a smile. I fall apart, convulsing and shattering into a million tiny pieces as I feel my orgasm ripping through my body taking my sanity with it. Roland’s eyes are closed as he spews his manhood into my open mouth.

Oh my. That was amazing. So glorious. Now I know what women see in this man. So beautiful. So delicious. So charming. He gazes down at me, a satisfied smile on his face, while I’m sure there is nothing but gratitude and awe on mine.

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