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queerchoicesblog · 4 years

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A Secret Unveiled (SC Titanic, Zetta x Adele Series, Ch.9)

It took me ages -sorry folks!- but here’s the continuation of Zetta x Adele Series. I am also happy to announce that for a lucky coincidence the next chapter about the party will be released a week from now on April 14, that is...on Zetta’s birthday!

Little disclaimer-favor: if you do enjoy it, please consider supporting the author & sharing this. A little gesture that means a lot!

Word Count: 3000+

Zetta x Adele Tag: @storyscaped @storyscapefanficarchive @marmolady @animus-and-anima @hayley-carter19 @escako @everlastingchoices @andrxrneda @aestheticsayeed @indescribablechoices @ahrielstuff @bornonawdnsday @nazario-sayeed @h-doodles @adele-serda @marlcasters @brightpinkpeppercorn @nightwhite13 @ramenwithaspoon @michelleconnoly @charliejane-blog @ghost-of-yuri @choicesgremlin @shadeofangelus @mistressofspiesxenia @orange-elephants

Zetta x Adele Series Tag: @eternal-langdon @nydeiri

➡️ Ch. 1, Ch. 2/1, Ch. 2/2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6, Ch. 7, Ch. 8/1, Ch. 8/2

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I wake up thinking of Adele. With my eyes closed, I can trick my mind into believing we never parted since last night. She could be sleeping in my arms, her curls gently tickling my skin and her breath soft and calming against the crook of my neck. Her calloused fingers entwined with mine as I hold her close, afraid she might fly away like a dream or a fantasy. I know there is no sense in pretending things are different than they are. I'm perfectly and painfully aware that my love is not here with me but you can't breathe if you're constantly underwater, right? Adele is my safe harbour, a gentle hand preventing me from drowning in my own sorrows and troubles. I can hear Sabine setting up the table in the adjacent room. My little Napoleon...she never forgets to arrange a private breakfast on my birthday morning. My favorite treats, good coffee, my books or some company if I feel like to have a chat. And well, today is the day, my day. Time to say goodbye to Adele's ghost for now: luckily enough I'll be reunited with my love later today.

Despite the weight of my birthday and the decision I made in the middle of a sleepless night, I am in a good mood. I ask Sabine to join me at the breakfast table and we chat and gossip like old friends. It's nice to be reminded I have friends even if we never pronounced that word aloud. When she leaves to add the finishing touches to the venue of tonight's party, I sigh contently, taking one last sip of coffee. My eyes accidentally fall on one the boxes piled up on the couch. I reach for it: it's my pearl necklace with my initials engraved on it. A foolish thought crosses my mind. I decide to indulge in it for once and before I can think twice I take my leave and hand it to the first stewardess I come across, asking to deliver it to Miss Carrem. As I head to the first class deck to catch some fresh air, a smile lingers on my lips. I try to picture Adele's reaction to my necklace. Will she blush, understanding its true meaning? Will she wear my token of affection tonight? The thought distracts me from the more urgent matter I need to discuss with her. A gust of wind greets me as I stand at the railing, the Ship of Dreams gently vibrating underneath my fingertips. Yes, I made up my mind. I know what I have to do, what I want to do. Jamie dear will never take that from me. Yet it makes this no easier. I won't back down though. I sigh and stare out to the vast azure ocean in front of me. It's so calm today: gentle waves stroke the side of the ship as the salty breeze makes a kite waltz into the late morning sky. The little owner is standing a few steps away. Well, standing is a strong word: he's jumping up and down, his chubby cheeks red with excitement, and I'm pretty sure he's not hearing a single word his father -I wager- squatted down by his side is saying to him to help him manoeuvre his colourful device. So sweet and pure. Only kids can experience that absolute unconditioned happiness, I consider, smiling at the kite taking a gracious turn up there, far away from us. A gleeful squeal of the little boy soon follows. I hear steps approaching behind me. I don't even need to turn, I perfectly know who's there. I bumped into Matteo on my way to the first class promenade and sent him to look for Adele. It took him more than I would have expected but for once I don't care. I won't give him a scolding. Not for this, at least: his complicity with James's scheme will get him one when time comes. One he will remember, I'm pretty sure of that. "Leave us, Matteo" I say, still looking out to the sea. He quietly steps away. As soft taps approach I wonder if he bowed before leaving, it would be typical of him. Adele joins me at the railing, standing by my side. I turn my head slightly to look at her. The soft features of her visage never left my mind since our encounter but she's radiant. Her skin is glowing in the late morning sun and I can't help but notice that her delicate curls are now graciously fastened with a cloth. Is my love dressing up for my birthday party tonight? A sudden urge to caress her rosy cheek and untie that lovely cloth to gently run my fingers through her hair takes hold of me but I suppress it. I must. We're in public, people would stare. People would murmur and disapprove. The loving father nearby would probably drag the little kite runner away to prevent him the sight of us. That is why I lower my voice as I say: "Our fun last night must have done you some good. You're glowing" My love turns and a soft smile forms on her lips, mirroring mine, as she beams at the warmth behind my words. She opens her mouth to say something but...nothing comes. Too soon a shadow crosses her face and she diverts her eyes. Was I too straightforward? Or is the thought of the people around us accidentally catching our veiled words of love? "Me? I'm the same as always. Ready to carry out my duties" she says, clearing her throat in a professional tone that doesn't fool me for a second. "Oh Lord. 'Same as always', she says" I roll my eye, barely refraining myself from groaning. "We can play it like that, if you want" "Like what?" Adele turns towards me again, visibly taken aback. "Like last night didn't happen" My voice may still be low but the meaning of my words is unmistakable. Sweet Adele, haven't I told you that I don't beat around the bush? You should know it. And I have no intention to pretend a thing like that! Adele looks at loss of words: I start wondering if I'm seriously too direct for my British love. She searches my eyes staring back at her before lowering them as a flush of red color her cheeks. "I'm very...aware last night happened I just thought you'd want-" she whispers but without ending the sentence. Oh, honey, you thought I wanted you or both of us to bury our sweet time at the Turkish Baths deep inside our mind and forget about that? Never speak about it ever again as if it was a dirty secret between the two of us? It is a secret, but not half as dirty as most people would claim or want us to believe. I don't think you share that sentiment too: you weren't afraid to show your true feelings last night and you're too rebellious and free to let anyone tell you who to love, despite all the insults or threats. Or both. Have you ever gotten in trouble because of that, my love? Adele, were you trying to...protect me and my reputation? I'm hiding my true self but I'm tired of pretending. I don't want to, not with you. When I speak again, my voice is softer. I can only hope it will convey how I wish I could take her into my arms and cradle her, easing her mind. "Darling, I'm forty today, I don't have time to pretend." Then I sigh as I remind myself why I sent Teo to call her. The weight of the unpleasantries to come washes over me and I barely hold back a wince. Why there must be always nasty hurtful things to discuss with her when all I want is her happiness, to see her gorgeous smile light up my whole world? "Which brings me to my point..." I continue, my voice shifting to a more somber tone. "I told you I'd think about your little deal with James." I sigh, holding a bit tighter to the railing as if I were to lose balance. "You brought me proof. You brought me...trust. And now I know what I have to do. What I want to do." I sense Adele tensing up at my side, taking in the gravity of the moment. "I'm here. I'm listening. My life is in your hands" she notes grimly, bracing herself for whatever I have to say. "I certainly hope so, considering I've become a sleep-deprived wreck because of it" I snap, but my angry witticism is not meant for Adele. No, how could it be? I turn to face her: I want to look at her when I uncover my decision. A decision I took not only out of fairness, to correct the wrongs of James but also for you, my love. "So here it is. The 'dirt', I suppose they call it, that James is seeking. I was already married once. Long ago. And, in fact...I'm still married." I pause and let my confession sink. It takes a moment to Adele to realise the full implications of my words. When she does, she frantically searches my eyes and gapes. "Zetta, no! I want your help with James, not to give him what he-" she starts, trying to stop me but I interrupt her. "Shut your mouth and listen, Adele. I heard you out before - now you'll hear me" I should have known better that she would have tried to oppose my decision out of ethics and for the sake of the bond we share now. But no, I'm sorry, my sweet chivalrous love, you can't stop me this time. I made a decision. I can tell Adele is running all the options to protect my secret in her head -running away, covering her ears like a child maybe or even arguing with me- but in the end she grimaces and nod sombrely. I can continue. "I was very young. He was my manager. Plucked me right out of Tristan and Isolde at the Vienna Playhouse. He had this way about him, this confidence. Confidence which I lacked, if you'll believe it" I close my eyes as I turn to look out to the sea again and I can still see him. Myself, leaving the theatre late at night exhausted and frowning. Herr Direktor was kind enough to gave me my start but he certainly wasn't a kind man: never a praise, only harsh 'constructive' criticism. He always wanted more and more, your best was never enough, just 'tolerable' if you were lucky. It was no secret that he made an effort to be twice as hard with me to test my motivation and see if I had "what it takes". "Is that all you've got, fraulein? Oh good Lord", "you said you had talent, please introduce it to all of us because so far I can't see none", "Wolfgang, do you have an understudy for fraulein Zetta's role? I don't want to jeopardise the whole play". I was barely sixteen and his shoutings and scoldings got to me somehow. He didn't seem to notice how the press was pleasantly impressed by my performance of Isolde's maid: Theresa saved for me a copy of a newspaper where a famous critic noted that "we might also be witnessing the rise of a new talent, raw but vivid as it suits the young age of its beholder. A new star is born on the stage of Vienna Playhouse? Only time will tell". I can see now why Herr Direktor was so demanding and harsh with me but back then it only made me feel miserable and angry. I took an hazard pursuing that career when my family was struggling in a poorhouse and I started second guessing myself, doubting myself. He must have sensed it too when he approached me that night. He introduced himself as an admirer simply wishing to praise my performance and soon started flattering me with all the words he knew I wanted or needed to hear. When he had stroked my ego just enough for me to accept an invitation for a private meeting at one of the most exclusive cafè in town, he straightened his dashing tuxedo and leaned to kiss my hand like a romantic hero of a cheap novel. I wasn't smitten with him but it stupidly drew a smile on my face. That's how I met Franz. "Anyway, he's dropping names of directors and theatres over tea at Zum Roten Igel..." He performed with great flair the role of artistic entrepreneur he claimed to be. He knew everyone, treated me with the finest treats I had ever tasted and repeated how impressed, no touched -he said- by the talent he could see burning inside me. He confessed to have great plans in store for me, us: "dear Zetta, allow me the honor to join you in this adventure as your manager. Let us show the world what bright light shines inside you". He squeezed my hand with a practised display of deep affection and enthusiasm when he whispered "let us take on the world, sweetheart!". "...and next thing you know, we're married and on a train to the nearest port" I add, grazing my fingers over my old wedding ring at my ring hand, a testament of my foolish naivety. It wasn't love what I felt for him and what led me to accept his proposal. Maybe I thought it was, for a moment, being so young and clueless about this yet unknown feeling. But it was soon clear it wasn't love: I didn't shiver underneath his kisses nor feel the urge to hold his hand or be held in his strong arms. None of those gestures so very often described in novels and plays came natural. He just fed my hunger for more, my ambition. I soon regretted dearly leaving my family and Vienna with him but it was too late. "I would have twenty offers for twenty shows by the time we hit New York, he told me. Of course, there were no parts. We were turned away at every stage door in Manhattan" It was humiliating. His bundle of lies uncovered and our fights in the streets followed. We accused each other of our failures but I knew I was right. Such awareness did little to soothe my heartbreak: I was young, an ocean away from my family and my only mentor, and tied by law to a miserable liar. I'd never felt so lonely and lost in my whole life. "I let his lies go on a year, then I left him. I couldn't divorce him, even if I wanted to. I didn't know how." I wince as I see my younger self summoning up every ounce of courage and dropping a letter on our kitchen table with too many glasses of whiskey and unpaid bills. Then she would walk out of the door without a second glance, a lump in her throat and a suitcase filled with hope and her few belongings spared from the pawn shop down the street. She had nowhere to go and knew no one who could help her get out of that marriage, a young foreign girl in the big city. Even if she had known, she couldn't have afforded the price. So she focused on starting a new life where she could be victorious. But just like now, when she thought she was done with my past, her past wasn't done with her. "Then there I was, years later, my name on marquees, and he's cornering me outside of the Algonquin Hotel" I remember that day. I'd made it: I'd crawled back from my own ashes and now I was the next big thing. Producers were fighting over me, to get me in their pictures and please crowds of adoring fans. They started calling me "American Aphrodite" after one of my first main role and worshipping me like a goddess. I was walking in on my way back from a stroll down Central Park when I heard a way too familiar voice behind my back. "Can I have a moment, Miss Zetta?". Blood ran cold in my veins as I froze. "Please, fraulein, I'm just an humble admirer" he continued in German, repeating the words of our first encounter. When I turned, he looked so different from the charming prince who spoiled me in Vienna and blinded me with empty promises. His hair showed the first signs of silver and his overall look was messy, a hint of dust over his coat. What never changed was the wolfish twinkle in his eyes when he flashed me a sarcastic smirk, running his fingers over our ring. "You seem surprised to see me. Why don't we take a seat and have a lovely chat, my love?". Honeyed words in a foreign language, the premise of a vile threat. "I didn't need the scandal. I've been paying him to stay quiet ever since" I conclude and silence falls between us. Adele speaks again after a moment. "It couldn't have been all bad, if you agreed to marry him. Was there...love?" she asks, her voice flickering between encouragement and grief or sympathy for my sorrow. "No" I answers sharply, without hesitation. "But he promised me he'd help me act. He swore it!" "He was a liar" When I meet her gaze again, Adele is wincing at the simple hurtful truth. "All men are liars. Just some of them are useful. My husband wasn't. Isn't" Husband...what a curious and cursed word. "Isn't the whole thing absurd? I forget I'm a married woman most of the time" I mock myself but Adele doesn't laugh. No, there's little humor in it, you're right. "But Richard would hardly have me if it got out. I can't imagine what the press would do" I add. Actually I know. They would feast above my ruin like vultures. The thought makes me shrug but Adele's voice bring me back to her. "With all due respect - why are you trusting me?" I chuckle deep in my throat: to be honest, it's quite absurd. I'm handing the key to my downfall to the person hired to destroy me. Ironically, she's also the only person I would ever trust with my secret. My love. I face my secretary and, uncaring of prying eyes, I reach for her hand. "I don't have an answer to this trouble with James" I frown before searching her gorgeous eyes again. "But I'm not going to let him pit us against each other, and besides...when you confessed about jumping bail and the rest, you told me everything I'd need to destroy your life" You foolish, brave love of mine... My gaze softens as well as my voice as a I say, gently squeezing her hand: "If we're going to handle what's coming, I want us to be equals" I take a deep breath and look her right in the eye before adding: "You trust me with your life, I trust you with mine" I feel Adele's hand squeezing mine back and warmth spreads through my veins. "I'm...I'm honoured, Zetta. Truly" "There's not much honor in it, but I appreciate the sympathetic ear all the same" I smile grimly. She mirrors my smile. The salty breeze from the ocean plays with our hair as we keep quiet. "Where do we go from here?" she asks after a moment. I can't tell if she refers to the final decision she needs to make in a few hours or if she's talking about us. I don't realise immediately how wickedly connected the two issues are. I decide to give her an honest answer: she deserves nothing less. "I don't know exactly. I hate to say it, but it's on you as much as me. I can give you support. I can give you lawyers. And I'll give it thought...but when it comes to the party tonight - well, do what your heart tells you" I know I'm probably out of my mind for exposing myself to this hazard, but I want to give you what James stripped away from you, my love: choice, freedom. I want you to be my equal, and God knows more than that. I squeeze her hand one last time and give my love a look filled with all the tenderness and affection I feel for her and can't express here before walking away. It's almost lunchtime, she needs space now and I have a lovely family reunion to attend.

#titanic storyscape #zetta serda #adele carrem #zetta x adele #zetta x adele series

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theangrypokemaniac · 3 years

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Random Irritations

The People's Republic of Galar

Red bus? Racists.

Crude cultural appropriation starts as it means to go on with infamous cliché.

As if you get red buses in market towns. I mean, I ask yer.

Never seen a single-decker red bus in me life.

Never seen a single red bus in me life, except for when I visited That London.

Never again, my friends. Never again.

Not only no bloody door, bloody door hole's on wrong bloody side.

Yer gotta take yer life in yer hands and stand in the middle of the road to board a bloody bus these days.

First the Harrying of the North, now this.

Have they not suffered enough?

Yes fellas, it is He: the Son of God.

Pokémon S.S. is so terrible even these writers won't touch it, and that takes some doing.

Unsurprising however, given Galar glorifies Leon, a mauve-mulleted Eighties throwback chav in white tights under Daz-fresh boxers.

There is a green hill far away

Without a city wall,

Where Our Dear Lord was crucified

He died to save us all!

The Saviour's shower cap stadium resembles an inverted lampshade from a Victorian whore's bedroom.

Or I'm looking up a jellyfish minge.

This anatomical monstrosity is home to the World Coronation Series, an event open to all, not that Gen. Ten and Eleven have much representation.

Ah yes, that never-before- mentioned-and-yet-so-very- famous competition, suddenly the be-all and end-all of everyone's lives, so desperate are they to grasp a fleeting battle with Saint Leon, A.K.A. The Mauve Golden One.

Nay, to bask in His shadow shall suffice! Such a towering titan of epic manliness He be!

As a Communist territory, Galar is a shithole with a severe backlog of nuclear waste.

Barrel upon barrel of radioactive gunge piled up in the earth, until the very ground was as thin and brittle as a Jacob's Cream Cracker.

All it takes is Bellsprout's leaf slicing through the tarmac, and BAM!, there's hell to pay.

Jumbo Chu!

In true comic style, one sniff of luminous asbestos turns normal Pokémon into hideous, super-powered mutants.

Pah. Giovanni was pulling this stunt twenty years ago at Pokémon Land. Yer never saw him make a big deal about it.

Such fragile terrain means every building site, archeological dig or graveyard is a bloody death trap.

Dare so much as disturb the soil and wildlife freaks start kicking over skyscrapers like Godzilla storming Tokyo.

And that ain't very festive when you're trying to bury Nana.

Here's a magical land where trains:

A. Arrive.

B. Arrive on time.

C. Are clean.

D. Are spacious.

E. Provide silver-service dining.

F. Are well within the budget of a pair of kids.

G. Don't have pissed passengers slumped in the corner.

Oh now we're in the realms of fantasy.

Given the lack of custom and rural destination, this must be prior to Doctor Beeching's infamous cull of services.

The villain!

Lads, count yer blessings to be spared the soul-depleting trauma of the filthy Underground.

With them backpacks and demented eyes, folk'd mistake yer for suicide bombers.

And they'd be right, 'cause this cartoon's trying to top itself.

I think it's more than leaves on the line this week, Maureen.

Like many fat 'uns, Snorlax neglected his personal hygiene, and washed himself with a rag on a stick.

Sure enough, add a little bit of toxic seepage and the entire Mushroom Kingdom sprouted from his belly button.

Let that be a lesson to you.

Unable to fit in his specially-adapted bungalow, even with windows removed, Jumbo Lax laid his corpulence on the railway to end it all.

Goodnight Vienna!

Cursing his fate, eyes glimmering with Satan's flames, Jumbo Lax vowed to take us all with him, for if he can't eat his entire body weight in Ginsters and not suffer the consequences, then no one can.

Can't so much as commute to work without being murdered in a trainwreck thanks to bloody subterranean leakage.

And they said fracking was safe.

Soft Southern Sissies wrote Pokémon, proven by their terror of what lurks beyond the cosy metropolitan bubble.

I didn't half panic when the boys headed off to the Wild Area:

Not Moss Side? That's the last we'll see of them!

Nah, turned out to be just some fields.

...

The word you're looking for there is 'countryside'.

I remember when this show was all about lighting fires in the woods and sleeping under the stars.

Now anything green is held at arm's length, for fear it might be catching, with it all neatly contained in one fenced-off sector of the Soviet map.

Say goodbye to foraging, drinking from rivers, week-long hikes and anything resembling hardship.

Our designated heroes are a couple of bed-wetting Townies treating nature like a rancid turd poked with a stick.

If either of these invertebrate milksops ever encountered a speck of dirt they'd run home screaming.

And every kid's like No-Go: a zombified slave to his smart phone life support, rolling into a fœtal position after losing the internet for ten minutes.

It ain't meant to be a bloody documentary!

Look at the screen, not the view. That's you all over.

It ain't Pokémon no more. You can forget that nonsense right now.

It's different.

It's fresh.

There's gonna be some changes.

It shall be renamed Pokémon Journeys.

This is the beginning.

This is the future.

This is the true way, my children.

Well until Gen. Nine comes along anyway, at which point it'll never have happened.

But until that dark day, this is the correct incarnation.

It must be christened anew, set apart from the past.

Hence Pokémon Journeys.

As opposed to all those journeys Ash used to have, walking everywhere, camping, the nomad's existence.

Certainly not. Nature is so ewwwww these days.

You don't understand. It's deep.

This is 'journey' in a reality T.V sense. You know, spiritual, oooh so spiritual.

Well it certainly isn't literal.

Ash wakes up on his orthopædic mattress, puts in his teeth, takes public transport, and is always back before ten to eight to get curtains drawn.

No way is he missing his slippers and mug of cocoa, because he lives life on the edge.

...

Should've called it Pokémon Pensioner Day Trips.

#Pokémon #Galar #Ash #Goh #Leon #Pikachu #Snorlax

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marvelouss-marvel · 6 years

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Home Sweet Home: Chapter 2

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: T’Challa x Reader

Summary: Reader comes from a royal family but left at a young age due to her father’s war with a dangerous opponent. Years later, she returns to take the throne as her father is getting too old. Along the way, she rekindles a friendship with the handsome King of Wakanda.

Prologue | Chapter 1

Masterlist

After lunch, I chose to dismiss the cardigan I threw on this morning and bask in the heat in my tank top and jeans as T’Challa and I strolled through the gardens of the palace. The majority of our meal was spent with me asking him questions about his life. Some would call him selfish for allowing me to interrogate him for nearly twenty minutes but when you must abandon your family because you might die, the only thing you can think of is their safety. Because T’Challa was such a good friend of mine, I recall the sadness I felt when leaving Mayassaoua.

I noticed that my father still kept up with planting the same flowers in our garden years ago. He constantly proclaimed for new types of plants but backing out when the gardeners prepared to plant them. The real reason for him suddenly refusing is still unknown to me and something tells me that I would rather not know.

“You would think that with me being gone for so long, things around this palace would change. But it’s like I never left.” I commented as I admired a blossoming Protea Cynaroid. “I feel like Aurora from Sleeping Beauty, only I actually aged while in a deep sleep.”

T’Challa released a hearty chuckle. “Indeed you are right, Your Highness.”

“T, I told you that the formalities aren’t necessary. You can call me Y/N. Calling me by my title makes me feel… too high and mighty? Do those words fit?”

“For this topic, yes. But what will you do when it is time for you reprimand your people? Show them who the real leader is for Mayassaoua?”

I shrugged. “Well, the only people who are on a first name basis are you and and my palace. Of course, my dad too. But everyone else, they refer to me as Your Highness, Your Majesty, or Princess Y/N.” I elaborated. “I just don’t want to feel superior to those close to me. I want us to be on the same page.”

He was silent for a minute and I began to wonder if I said something to throw him off. Peeking at him from my peripheral vision, I could see that he was staring at me with a faint smile. I shifted my eyes back to the glorious plants before us.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” I muttered.

“It is nice to know that you have not changed a bit. You left your country for over two decades and came back the same person. I am impressed. Happy, I should say.”

“Thank you.” I looked off to the side to try and shield the sudden smile I couldn’t seem to wipe off my face. “Um, I never asked but, how’s your father doing?”

He was silent for too long and when I glanced at him once again, he was staring off into space. My stomach dropped at the sudden realization that something was indeed wrong. “You don’t have to an—”

“No, it is fine. He is… he is not here with us anymore. He died two years ago.”

So my frightening suspicions were correct. No one could stay silent for so long and hold a distant look when you asked about the well-being of someone else. My stomach seemed to sink more at the thought of King T’Chaka resting in peace now. Although he was in a better place, it still hurt to know that he was gone. And that I wasn’t here to see him one last time.

“My condolences, T.” I solemnly replied. We walked for another couple of minutes with tension brewing between us. It mainly stemmed from me feeling like the shitty friend I was for already doing a disappearing act without warning my only friend. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened?”

He heaved a sigh. “There was an explosion. We were in Vienna at the time for a conference.” The next confession sent shivers down my spine. “I saw the man before the explosion happened.”

“No…”

“I hadn’t met him yet but I could see him from the top of the building. Something told me he was up to no good and before I knew it… I was warning everyone to get down. But it was too late. The debris had knocked my father over.”

I stopped walking, placing my hand on his chest to cease his movement as well. “T… I don’t, I don’t know what to say but that I am truly sorry for your loss. No one should ever witness something like that. Especially when it comes to their loved ones.”

He gave me a gentle but saddening smile. “Thank you Y/N.”

“I just hope that the man who did this is in prison.” I folded my arms across my chest.

“He did. It’s a long story but he is where he belongs now.” T’Challa raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t here about this in the news?”

“Um… two years ago, I was busy doing something.” I mumbled. “I was so invested in my own problems, I didn’t take note of what was happening around me.”

He chuckled. “Typical Y/N. Always so oblivious to her surroundings.”

I walked backwards while pointing my finger at him. “This isn’t a laughing matter T!”

We had agreed to meet up for the second time before my first public appearance. Although he hadn’t departed from me, I was already missing T’Challa. This is how it always played out when we’d see our parents enter the room together and ask one of us if we were ready to head home. We were only heading towards the front door and I made sure to slow my movements to prolong his stay a bit.

“I do hope that the next time we meet, I can be the interrogator?” T’Challa teased with a smirk.

“Today was all about you T. You were in my house and as the guest, I need to treat you with respect. Especially since you’re the king now. That’s still a shocker.” I muttered the last part jokingly.

“What was that?” he nudged me. “It is a shocker that I am king?”

“Don’t act so surprised! You rolled around in the dirt and wrestled with me like I was your rag doll as a kid. Your dad may have trained you to rule Wakanda but that didn’t stop me from questioning your position now.”

“Ah, it’s nice to know that you never doubted me.”

“I’m your friend, that’s what I’m supposed to do.” I smirked.

“Best friend Y/N. Don’t degrade yourself.”

We currently stood at the front of the palace where two guards awaited to open the doors. Emem and T’Challa’s honorary guard, Okoye, approached us both in deep conversation.

“How does next weekend sound?” T’Challa interrupted my thoughts.

“For…?”

“For meeting up again. I highly doubt I have anything planned for those two days. Maybe you could visit the castle? My mother has been extremely happy about your presence since your father has contacted us.”

“Hmm, I do miss your place and I would love to see your mom for the first time in years. Sure, why not?”

“Very well then. I will keep in touch.” He smiled before shifting his eyes to behind me. “Okoye, are you ready?” Then he looked back at me. “Until next time Princess Y/N.”

“Until next time King T’Challa.” I smirked.

Once he and Okoye exited the doors and the guards shut them, I faced Emem. “Well, that was lovely.”

I’ve learned over the years that God will lead you to certain destinations for your sake. Tonight was one of those nights.

Just as I approached my father’s bedroom door to bid him goodnight, my ears caught the sound of an extra voice in the room with him. His honorary guard, Amare. “Your Majesty, you have to tell her at some point.” the man advised. “You are getting weaker by the minute and eventually, she will catch on. And when she catches on, she will be furious.”

“Amare… you have to understand.” my dad began.

“But I do!” he interrupted silently. “I do understand what you are going through but she doesn’t. Your daughter is here, believing that she will be taking your place because of your age, when really she is here because you are ill. Why won’t you tell her?”

“Because I have known my daughter longer than you have. When I hurt, she hurts. And the last thing this nation needs is two leaders being too weak to protect them! The less she knows, the better!” A small fit of coughs issued before he continued. “She can not know about this Amare. Even after I pass on, she can not know.”

I didn’t realize my heart was beating so fast until I stepped away from the door. My eyes trailed up to the faces of both guards beside the doors. All I could do was look at them with remorse.

“If I wasn’t supposed to know, why didn’t you guys stop me?” I whispered loud enough for them to hear but not the two bickering people on the inside.

“We felt it was best you know so much Your Highness.” one of them answered, wearing a look of pity.

I lightly nodded my head in understanding before rotating on the balls of my feet and marching to my bedroom. I would come back to say goodnight to my dad once I slipped on my pajamas. For now, I would cry.

Tags: @yourwonderbelle @90sinspiredgirl @artistic22dragon @mala-firebringer @belfanmwa @gabbyandoh @whovianayesha

If you would like to be tagged in more of my work, let me know!

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buymymagiccarpet · 3 years

Text

Vienna Abstract Natural Washable Rug

Contemporary color palettes, like deep orange, white, and grey, meet antique designs with our abstract Vienna rug. The rich colors and abstract designs work beautifully with transitional, contemporary, modern, and eclectic decor. The contemporary and trendy rug is easy to clean and built to last.

Materials

Each rug consists of non-allergenic, stain-resistant 100% microfiber polyester, including a waterproof inner liner and a non-slip, patent-pending, webbed back. Plus, our revolutionary pet and family-friendly design makes our rugs easy to care for; simply throw them in any standard sized washer and dryer.

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Our Difference

My Magic Carpet is a machine-washable, single-piece nonslip rug which is lightweight and perfectly ﬁts into your washing machine.

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Keep your pets close to you, inside your living space without worrying about their dander, mess, spills and accidents. Let them sit on this cozy, clean, hygienic and comfortable rug and fully enjoy your time with your pets.

Wash it whenever needed with detergent just like you wash your laundry. No more expenses of hiring a carpet cleaner or bringing it to a dry cleaner

Care Instructions:- Machine wash separately in any conventional washer in cold water on a delicate cycle using mild detergent. If stain, treat spot immediately. Do not use bleach. Machine dry separately on low heat or air-dry. Avoid high heat settings and remove promptly to avoid creases. Do not use an iron; lay it out as soon as possible to avoid creasing.

Shipping & Returns:- We ship out in-stock items the same day if placed by 11:00 AM PST. Any orders received after 11:00 AM PST will be processed the next business day. For orders received after 11:00 AM PST between Friday and Sunday, they will be processed on Monday or the next business day thereafter if there is a national holiday. Standard shipping within the contiguous United States takes an estimated 2-5 business days from California.

Estimated delivery dates are not guaranteed. Please contact us if you have not received your order by the estimated date of delivery. Our business days are Monday through Friday, excluding United States federal holidays.

Our goal at My Magic Carpet is to help you design a beautiful and comfortable home. That’s why we offer a 30-day money-back guarantee for all our products.

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Returns:- Our return policy covers returns of products in new or “like-new” condition up to 30 days after delivery, excluding any products listed as nonrefundable at the time of purchase. Product(s) must be returned with its original, undamaged packaging.

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· Signs of wear, washing, or improper care

· Damage or stains

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deepmarkcomputer · 4 years

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White Pollution [Sustainable Business]

It is true that white pollution has become one of the environmental problems of the world. As for the hazards of plastic, most of the time our feelings only come from those bleak little animals.It is often eaten by animals as food, and some animals are entangled in plastic and die.

Some pictures of the tragic deaths of marine animals or birds are full of shock at first glance on the Internet. However, the same type of photos have been spread for a long time, and it is inevitable that people are visually tired and slightly numb.After all, in some people’s views, at the top of the food chain, humans will not be confused about plastics like other animals and feed on garbage.

Some people believe that the drawbacks of plastic bags are really far away because no one will eat them,and we are not living in the ocean. But the ocean is really not the end of plastic waste. That is just one cycle of plastic bags. they have quietly returned to our human in the end.

It reported that millions of plastic bottles and plastic bags can be sold every minute in the world, and an average of nearly 8 million tons of plastic waste can be produced . The degradation time of disposable plastics is very long and the vitality is extremely tenacious. When the degradation is not completed, they will break into many small pieces and become "microplastics."

A research report by Dr. Philipp Schwabl of the Medical University of Vienna, Austria showed that as many as 9 types of microplastics with diameters between 50 and 500 microns were detected in human feces.

What are the effects of white pollution on our lives?

1. "Visual pollution": The waste plastic packaging scattered around cities, tourist areas, rivers and roads will bring undesirable stimulation to people's vision,it affects the overall beauty of the city and scenic spot、 destroy the urban landscape and scenes, and form a "visual Pollution" pollution. "

2, "potential hazards": after waste plastic packaging enters the environment, it is difficult to degrade which causes long-term, deep-seated ecological problems. First of all, it is difficult to dispose of waste plastic packaging on the day if it is mixed with waste: the landfill treatment will waste a long time; and it is not suitable for composting treatment, waste plastic packaging is mixed in the soil, affecting the absorption of nutrients and water by crops, which will lead to crops die; because the quality cannot be guaranteed, it is difficult to recover the classified waste plastic; if burned, plastic bags are difficult to burn because it often mixed with dirt and water, and even it becomes the secondary pollution; second, plastic bags will cause animals to die after they treat them as food mistakenly if human throw waste on land or water.

Now more and more people have begun to realize the seriousness of the problem, and many countries also took some actions to protect our earth. now, the U.S. government has enacted legislation to ban the use of microplastics in cosmetics and toiletries, which becomes the first country in the world to announce such a ban; the European Union has begun to formulate a proposal to ban the use of microplastics in cosmetics; China's related ban may also followed those countries. For our normal people, trying to minimize the use of disposable plastic products, carrying water cups when going out, and refusing over-packaged products are some measures which can make little contribution which we can do. When purchasing cosmetics and personal care products, develop the habit of reading product ingredient labels and not purchase products containing plastic microbeads.

#white pollution

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political-fluffle · 4 years

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Devin Nunes must stop suing fake cows and explain $60,000 Europe trip

Rep. Devin Nunes’ decision to sue anyone who dares to criticize him – including a fictitious cow on Twitter – backfired spectacularly this week. Again.

In a court filing, a lawyer for a former Democratic National Committee employee eviscerated the Tulare Republican’s argument that mockery from Twitter accounts like “Devin Nunes’ Cow” and “Devin Nunes’ mom” constitutes defamation.

“No reasonable person would believe that Devin Nunes’ cow actually has a Twitter account, or that the hyperbole, satire and cow-related jokes it posts are serious facts,” reads the filing in Virginia’s Henrico County Circuit Court, according to a Bee story by Hannah Wiley and Kate Irby. “It is self-evident that cows are domesticated livestock animals and do not have the intelligence, language, or opposable digits needed to operate a Twitter account. Defendant ‘Devin Nunes’ Mom’ likewise posts satirical patronizing, nagging, mothering comments which ostensibly treat Mr. Nunes as a misbehaving child.”

(…)

Given the frivolous nature of Nunes’ lawsuits, one can easily draw the conclusion that he’s trying to chill free speech by miring his critics in expensive legal proceedings. If that’s the idea, it’s not working. Twitter accounts continue to mock him and the press continues to report on his increasingly grim situation.

Last week, Nunes threatened to sue CNN and the Daily Beast for reporting that “A lawyer for an indicted associate of Rudy Giuliani told CNN that his client is willing to tell Congress about meetings the top Republican on the House Intelligence Committee had in Vienna last year with a former Ukrainian prosecutor to discuss digging up dirt on Joe Biden.”

Lev Parnas, a Ukraine-born man arrested while trying to leave the United States in October, said through a lawyer that he is willing to implicate Nunes, who was in Europe during the period in question.

“House travel records show Nunes traveled to Europe from Nov. 30 to Dec. 3. Three congressional aides who have worked for Nunes have matching travel receipts for the same dates, House records show,” according to a story by The Bee’s Andrew Sheeler. “The trip cost $63,525.”

Now, Nunes faces calls for an ethics investigation. (…)

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anavoliselenu · 4 years

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blood chapter 5

"Is something wrong Justin?" Vienna asked me from across the table as we sat in the back of Carmel.

I didn't feel like answering her so I just kept taping my chopstick on the table.

It had been about an hour since Selena left with that fucking dude and I was about to go crazy. What were they doing? Was he touching her? Where they fucking in the back of some car?

I don't know why she had such a hold on me but it was starting to get annoying.

Tonight started out to be the perfect night. I had actually grown the balls to call up Vienna and ask her to dinner. It wasn't a date type of thing but exactly the opposite. I wanted to let her know that whatever she and I used to have, was completely over. The best way to let her down easy was to take her out to dinner so she couldn't make a scene like I knew she wanted. If I kept her calm, her craziness wouldn't be able to come out in public.

I had come into Carmel with the intentions of just talking to Vienna about ending our casual sex relationship that she somehow thought was still on but she was mistaken in the worse way. I guess she had a misshapen idea of what "sex" meant but that was okay because I wasn't planning on seeing her after tonight.

I put on my game face and was very stern with her because Vienna was basically a child that I had to scold. She didn't take it very well and started with the whole fake crying thing but I wasn't going to be fooled. Everything was going fine until that damned, spicy tuna roll suddenly landed on my table, right in between Vienna and I. She took that moment to go to the bathroom and I was trying to figure out what the hell was going on with this sushi that just plopped down in front of me.

I tried to tell the lady behind me that it was hers but she kept insisting that it wasn't. As soon as I heard the voice, I knew who it was. It was the voice that had been traveling in my head for the past week.

She was here!

I was surprised to say the least and was kind of mad. I wasn't prepared to see Selena right now but I would just have to improvise.

Once again, I tried all my moves but they still didn't work. It was like she had some kind of boundary up that was blocking me. That only made me more determined to get her. I slipped my business card into Selena's hand before she and the fucker left. I kept my cool while they were still here, but once they left, my pretenses fell.

I was agitated and annoyed.

What was so good about that douche that she would entertain him but not me? I looked ten times better than he did and I knew I was about a billion dollars richer. Why was she here with him? Is that what she likes? Scrawny, blond haired, college kids with acne and greasy hair? Selena obviously had some kind of mental issue that was preventing her from seeing that I was the one who should be taking her home tonight.

"Justin, look, I know you don't really like me but I feel this connection to you. I like having sex with you and I'm going to miss you. Don't push me away." Vienna said pathetically.

"Why are you still here?" I asked, letting the acid drip from my voice.

"I don't know. You never treated me right Justin. I hate that you just use me." She crossed her arms.

"Vienna, I told you that I just wanted sex and you still seem to think that you can change me. I'm not going to change for you or anyone for that matter. I don't want a relationship." I said slowly.

"I know, but…do we have to stop…" She moved her foot under the table so that it was positioned right in my crotch.

I grabbed her shoe and pushed it back down on the floor, "I have to stop with you because you can't seem to understand what I'm saying."

"We've always been friends though."

"Not anymore." I got up from the table, throwing a couple of hundreds down, "You can get yourself home, can't you?"

"I'm not your whore Justin."

"Yet you still take my money." I raised an eyebrow as I watched her hand snatch the bills from the table, "Goodbye Vienna." I turned my back on her and went through the restaurant, towards Jasper's office in the very back.

I passed the kitchen and scurrying waiters before I arrived at a heavy wooden door that looked completely out of place in the modern, Japanese style décor of Carmel. I pushed it open and found Jasper sitting at his desk on the phone. He held up a finger to signal me to wait and I plopped down in the chair opposite him, propping my feet up on the desk.

I opened up the jar on the table and pulled out a handful on jelly beans, only eating the green ones before putting the rest back. Jasper gave me his 'what the hell is wrong with you' look while writing furiously. He was on the phone with someone, talking about kobe beef so I assumed it had something to do with Carmel and not our other endeavors.

He hung up the phone after ten minutes and let out a deep breath, "I hate this place. All my other restaurants seem to go well but this one is going to give me gray hair."

"Maybe you're not running it right." I shrugged.

"Obviously." He deadpanned, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came in with Vienna, to set her down easy."

"Oh, you two were going out?"

"No. That's just the thing. She thinks we are but I had to set her straight. I figured it had to be somewhere public so she wouldn't create a scene."

"So you had to choose my place of business? What if she had stabbed someone?"

"Then I guess you would have had a law suit on your hands."

I debated on whether or not to tell Jasper about my encounter with Selena because I knew he would start asking questions that I wasn't prepared to answer but I also wanted to know what he would say about the whole thing.

"Guess who I saw out there?" I nodded towards the dining room.

"Who?" He asked as he lifted up papers on his desk.

"Selena."

He stopped moving and eyed me suspiciously, "Selena, from the club? My Swan?"

My lip twitched at his admission of 'My Swan'. If I had to, I would take him out before he got to Selena first. I would step over his dead body to have her. That was the hold she had on me and I didn't like it.

"Yeah, the one from Plasma." I clarified.

"Well, hot damn." He leaned back in his seat and crossed his hands behind his head, "What was little Swan doing in Carmel."

"She was on a date." I got out difficultly, "They left about an hour ago."

"Hmmmm." He thought, "Was that little girl with her, the one with the taser?"

"No, I don't think so. Why?"

"Nothing, I was just thinking about how hot it would be if she used that on me again." His eyes glazed over.

"Okay, that's weird but I thought you were into Selena?" I asked, trying to feel him out.

"I was but she's kind of…strange. She hot, don't get me wrong but I don't know what it is…she just…"

I knew exactly what he meant. Selena was strange. That was the only way to put it. She had something wrong about her. Maybe I was just saying that because she hadn't given into me yet but there was something more. I had never met any girl like her, who seemed to have as much going on in her head as I did in mine.

"I like that Alice girl though." Jasper said out loud, "She was cute."

"I don't really remember anything besides a hundred volts of electricity going through your body."

"That was a rush. When you see Selena again, tell her to drop my name to Alice."

"Okay…" I said slowly. He was acting kind of weird too but I let it go because we were all messed up in the head.

I went home that night and didn't know what to do with myself.

Usually on a Friday night, I would be out in the clubs, trying to find some girl to bring back to the penthouse but I didn't feel like it anymore. Selena had sucked the life out of me. She was so high on my 'top fuck' list that anything else was unacceptable. My other conquests would pale in comparison until I had Selena.

I tried to sleep but I don't know why. Since I was a teenager, I didn't really sleep. I just turned for the night while getting a few hours here and there. My old therapist said that it was because I had too much on my mind when I went to bed at night and even sleeping pills did little for me although they provided a good high sometimes.

The sun rose on Saturday morning and I rolled out of bed, with a body that felt like led. I trudged to the bathroom and did my very calculated and precise morning routine.

The good thing about not sleeping at night was that it gave me a hell of a lot of time to think about my fucked up life.

If I wanted Selena, which I did, I was going to have to find some other way of getting her. I had never really needed any advice on women before but I knew who to go to. Rose might act like a bitch but she knew her stuff so I figured she could help me out if I asked nicely.

I spent exactly twenty-seven minutes in the shower, shaving, washing my hair and body along with exfoliating my face. You won't find many men who admit to exfoliating but I was above feeling shamed of my normal regiment. I hated dirt and I would scrub the skin off of my face before I got a pimple.

I got out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my waist and then went into my closet that was lined with what looked like the entire Armani catalog. I couldn't help but smile as I pulled on a casual yet professional pair of light brown pants and then a pale green, almost mint, colored shirt. I rolled up the sleeves as usual and put on some Italian loafers before going back into the bathroom to complete my morning.

I brushed my teeth twice, until the water was a tinged a soft pink, signaling blood in my mouth. I put some gel in my hair and ran my hands through it, trying to tame the stray strands.

"Good." I appraised myself in the mirror before turning off the light, turning on the lights, and then turning them off again, and leaving my room.

Don't judge me!

I padded downstairs and looked around, trying to find something to do. I woke up at six on the dot each morning so I usually had to wait for the city to come alive before I did anything significant with my day. I looked in my fridge and cabinets to find anything to eat but there was absolutely nothing.

I rapped my fingers on the counter in my kitchen, thinking about what I was going to do with my day. I had a lot of financial records to go over but I didn't feel like it. I could make plans with my brothers to go to Plasma tonight but I didn't feel like it. I could go see my mother and father but I didn't feel like it. What I really wanted to do was take Rose out to lunch and pick her brain about women. I obviously needed a refresher course.

I settled for cleaning the sink in the kitchen. I saw a stain in the bottom and that wouldn't do. I got the supplies from the bathroom and spent a good hour, scrubbing the hell out of the basin until it sparkled so clean that I could eat out of it. After that, I was bored again.

I sat on my sofa, watching the news for about three hours but not really paying attention until the clock stuck an acceptable nine.

She should be up by now, right?

I tried my luck and called down a couple of floors to Emmett's apartment. It rang six times before someone picked up.

"Hello? Who the hell is this?" Emmett's gruff voice sounded on the other end.

"Me." I answered.

"What do you want? It's Saturday and I'm not like you, I actually sleep."

"I wanted to know if Rosalie was up. I need to talk to her."

"My Rosie?"

"Yes, your Rosie." I said sardonically.

"She went to work out a couple of hours ago downstairs. What is it with you two? Doesn't anyone sleep in anymore?"

"Not when you grow up jackass. People have things to do. Thanks." I hung up before we got into a battle and like a giddy child, went out of the door.

I got in the elevator and pressed the button for the basement floor, which held the gym to the building. It had three full sized swimming pools, a spa, steam rooms, basketball courts, tennis courts, racquetball rooms, a track, decked out gym and anything else I wanted to put in there. I wanted to have a place close by that I could use at all hours of the day and night since I often liked to run when I couldn't sleep.

I made it downstairs in a couple of seconds and had to stop myself from skipping out of the elevators. I felt a new since of excitement at finally cracking Selena's shell. I was determined to make her mine with any help I could get.

I was greeted with a head nod by the people who worked in the gym and they knew me so I didn't have to swipe a card key or anything like that. I just went through the locker rooms until I made it to the weight room, where I knew Rose was.

I spotted her on the elliptical with her blonde hair pulled it into a ponytail, workout shorts and a tank top. She had headphones and had worked up quite a sweat so I guessed she had been her for at least an hour.

I went around her and arrived in front of the machine where she was reading a magazine, climbing high on the elliptical.

I waved my hand in front of her but she didn't look at me.

"What do you want? You're bothering me." She snapped and turned the page.

"I need your help." I admitted.

She looked at me but didn't stop pumping her legs, "The great Justin Bieber needs help?"

"I know, shocker but yes."

"With what? I'm not doing any of your dirty work."

"I'm not asking you to. I just need…I'm having…girl problems." I said like I was a high school kid, trying to ask a girl out to his first prom but that's kind of how I felt.

"What the hell does that mean?" She took her headphones out.

"Can I take you to brunch? We can talk about it then." I stuffed my hands in my pockets.

She eyed me for a second, "Okay fine but if you're playing with me, I'll cut your balls off."

"Fair enough. Is an hour good enough for you?"

"Make it two. I need to go running after this."

"Alight." I left her alone to kill the machines and decided that since I was down here, I didn't want to go back upstairs so I left my building and walked into the city that was starting to liven up even on a Saturday. I didn't do anything but walk through the park that was near the apartment and looked around.

I saw women pushing strollers, men running with workout clothes, kids playing with baseballs and then couples. I never really noticed them before since I had no desire to be in a relationship but they seemed to be everywhere. Sitting on benches, reading to each other in the grass, walking hand-in-hand, laughing at stupid jokes. It was purely sickening but there was a sharp pang in my stomach that longed for something close to what they had.

I guess I was envious but I would never admit to it. I had never been "normal" so to be in a relationship wasn't an option for me. I couldn't bring an outsider into this life. It was hard for all of us although Emmett had Rosalie but that was only because she was already in on our life, being Carlisle's ex-secretary. It wouldn't be right for me to bring some poor girl into my world and subject her to the treachery that was Justin Bieber.

Inevitably and annoyingly, my mind went to Selena. What would we look like as a couple?

"Yeah right." It was almost laughable.

I made two circuits around the park before it was time to go back to my apartment. I checked my Rolex and saw that I was right on time.

Rose was sitting in one of the plush, modern, lounge chairs in the lobby.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked and stood as I approached.

"Anywhere you want. I need your help so…"

"That's right and I expect you to listen to me, especially if it has something to do with women."

"It sounds like you have a lot to get off of your chest."

"Oh I do Justin Bieber but we'll get to the heavy stuff later. I'm hungry." She stalked off towards the exit and I was regretting my decision already.

I followed her into the streets as she hailed a cab, getting in the back before it even stopped. She gave instructions for the driver to take us to the Flatwater Grill. We spent the drive not speaking because I truly didn't like Rosalie and the less time I spent talking to her, the better but I guess I had to be nice since I was coming to her for help.

We pulled onto the street fifteen minutes later and I paid the cab driver, telling him to keep the change before getting out with Rose following me. We went inside, still not really saying much to each other and a bubbly hostess led is through the restaurant that looked over the river.

We sat down and ordered coffee to wake up our minds. Once that came, I took it back, black as usual. We ordered food and then I waited.

I felt Rose cross her legs under the table but I didn't dare look at her.

"So, what's all this about? I don't buy your half-cocked story about girl problems." She began, her spoon clinking against the side of her coffee cup.

"Why? It's the truth."

She leaned forward, "Are you being serious?"

"Yes." I gritted.

She actually laughed at me, "I've known you for five years and I have never once been approached for help let alone with women. This is priceless. I can't wait to tell…"

"Don't tell Emmett." I cut her off, giving her a serious glare, "He would never let me live it down."

"I'll never let you live it down." She said under her breath as she took a sip of her coffee, "Okay, let's hear it."

I didn't really know how to say what I wanted without coming off sounding like a complete pussy.

"Let's say, hypothetically of course, that I tried to…"

"Fuck a girl?" She finished my sentence.

"Yes, thank you, fuck a girl but she is stubborn and inflexible to the point of pure annoyance."

"What, your normal tricks aren't working?" She took another sly sip of her coffee.

"No."I nearly growled, "She's infuriating."

"Have you ever thought that she's not the normal type of slut trash you usually pick up?"

"Watch it, you were one of those sluts once upon a time."

"I know and I'm ashamed every time I think about it. You played me like a fiddle." She squinted her eyes at me, "Thankfully, I could have cared less when I found Emmett. Otherwise, I would have taken a kitchen knife to your dick."

"We're getting off topic, what's going on? Is my magic disappearing? I bet she's messed up in the head, a lesbian?" I asked jokingly but I really was concerned.

"So let me get this straight, because a girl isn't giving into you and has the smarts to see past your tricks, she's messed up? You're unbelievable. A pig is what you are." She sat back in the booth.

"I'm not a pig, well yes I am but this girl…the way she acts towards me is why I have to have her. She's pushing me away but I can feel…" I wanted to say something else but I didn't know what.

Rose tilted her head at me inquisitively.

"What?" I wiped my face, thinking that I had something on it.

"You want to have sex with this girl and that's it?"

"Yes." I answered quickly, "She just has to let me in."

"How many times have you met her?"

"Just three and most of the time, she's falling over or passed out." I smiled at the thought of the first night I saw Selena and then again last night. Clumsy Selena.

"Three times and she still hasn't given in? Oh what will you do?" Rose said dramatically.

"Shut up and give me some advice."

"For a man who's slept with probably a thousand women, you know absolutely nothing about us."

"Obviously."

"Have you ever thought that maybe she just doesn't like you?"

"Impossible." I took a sure sip of my coffee.

"Okay, ignoring that extremely narcissistic comment, have you ever thought that you need to change?"

"I don't change."

"You already have." She snickered.

"What does that mean?" I snapped.

"Think about it Justin. You look worse than usual and you're about to pull your hair out over a girl. What does that tell you?"

I stayed silent as I thought.

What did that tell me?

"It means that you have more than a sexual attraction to this woman. What's her name?"

"Selena."

"Well, Selena must be special." She spoke like I was a child, "You're chasing her and not just chasing but jungle chasing."

"Jungle chasing?"

"That's what I like to call it when you think off of instinct, like an animal in the wild. Let me guess, she's making you so mad that you just want to scream and you can't think of what else to do to get her to fall into you traps. She's forcing you to change your habits and you can't stop thinking about her." Rose was hitting the nail right on the head and she knew it.

I still stayed silent.

"You're in total jungle chase mode. This is hilarious." Rose said loudly.

"Shut up."

"You can't even see it can you?" She shook her head, "As much as you know about women, I know more about men and let me tell you, you're fucked. This girl is smart and whoever she is, knows not to fall for your stupid antics. I can't wait to meet her."

"You're never going to meet her. Just one fuck and she's gone." I said as firmly as I could.

"Do you think that's going to be enough? Just one fuck?"

"Yes."

"Let me tell you right now, you're a junkie to her drug and as much as you think this Selena is falling for you, she has her hooks so far into you, it's amusing."

"What are you saying?" My whole mind was racing.

"She has you in the palm of her hand. I have to meet her."

"You have no idea what you're talking about. Stop making stuff up."

"This is pure lion, alpha male behavior."

"Just because you majored in psychology doesn't give you the right to analyze me." I got defensive.

"Just think of this like the jungle. Usually, you're the lion and the poor girl you decided to hunt is the gazelle. I think you've met your match. Selena sounds strong and is challenging you. How many times have you tried your tricks?"

"Twice." I admitted.

"And she still hasn't fallen? Oh she's good." Rose smirked, "You're screwed."

"I am not and I'll show you that I just need one fuck before I let her go. The problem is, I don't know how to get her that far."

"Well, I'm not going to help you break this girl's heart. I won't."

"I just need to know what I'm doing wrong."

"You're acting like you." She said with an eye roll.

"And? Is there any way else to act?"

"Why don't you try being a real gentleman for once? That works."

"I am a gentleman."

"No you're not. You have this condescending tone about you that just gives off dominance. It's the alpha lion trying to get out but now you've been challenged. You don't know what to do with yourself." Rose stated very surly.

"I do so, I just…need help. Selena is…different from other girls."

"Why don't you try doing what a boy would do if he wanted a girlfriend."

"Don't use that word. I don't want a relationship with this girl, I just want a quick fuck." That had become sort of my mantra over the course of this brunch.

"That's what you say now but have you really stopped to think about this? You're chasing her. You've never done that before. Is she that special?" Rosalie leaned in.

"Yes…no…I don't know." I stammered.

"This is priceless. You're like a little gazelle. The tables have turned Justin and if you don't step up to the plate, you're going to lose Selena." She smirked very devilishly.

"So what, be nice to her, treat her right until she gives me what I want?"

"A normal man wouldn't put this much effort into a quick roll in the sheets so I'm going to go along with this until you come to your senses but yes, that's the gist of it. Flatter her, do nice things for her, take her out on dates, like a normal man. I know you've done that before."

"Not without a guarantee of a lay afterwards."

"Well then I guess you're just going to have to take a chance on her."

"I don't take chances on things I'm not certain about."

"Play her game because she's obviously playing you."

"She's not playing me." I growled again, "I'm in control."

"Whatever you say Justin."

As our waffles appeared in front of us, I heard the jungle drums beating in my head.

If it was a game I had to play to get Selena, then that was what I was going to do.

Just one fuck! That was all I was asking for.

I looked up at the ceiling of my dorm room and tried to count sheep but my brain wouldn't shut down.

It was Monday night, three days after I last saw Justin and I was still milling over every detail in my head.

Why is it that every single time I try to be good, really good, it always blows up in my face? I had made an effort to keep away from Justin in my thoughts all of last week. I couldn't really control what I dreamed about but that was a different story. I had tried to keep my thoughts pure of his devilish looks but he found me.

I didn't know if it was purposeful or not but Justin didn't seem as shocked to see me as I was to see him. He kind of acted the same way he did at the fountain. Like everything was planned and he was trying to have an end goal with me. He made that known when he slipped me his business card and basically recruited me to join his harem but it was all just a game to him.

Maybe it was for me as well but somewhere deep in my blood, I knew that this attraction I had for Justin was more than just physical. Of course, with a man like that, there was no changing him and it wasn't my job to try. If he just wanted sex then I wasn't going to deny him, That's what I would love to say but I wasn't some slut who slept with a man she just met last week.

Besides, Justin wasn't worth it.

I wasn't looking for a relationship per se but that was better than a roll in the hay one time before getting dumped on my ass. Even as I was saying it, I could feel my mental walls crumbling. I was walking a very thin line that was a dangerous one. I had to make sure to stay away from Justin because he could trap me, let me fall into his web and I couldn't afford that.

If I took his game seriously, I could end up getting really hurt.

I didn't want to sound like some weak, hormonal girl who didn't know that she was getting played but Justin was a hard catch to deny. I could even see that. He was majestic in his movements, sexual in everything he did. His walk, his speech, his hair, his fingers, his eyes. Oh God, his eyes were the killer, those things would take me down without a doubt.

His whole persona was about conquering women and making them his. I bet he had a list as long as the Great Wall but none of them would mean more to him than a quick fuck.

I rubbed my eyes and thought for a second what it must be like to live in his shoes.

What the hell kind of man was he that he had to bang a different girl every night?

I had a solid background in psychology since I wanted to be one for all my life until I realized that my money situation didn't allow me to spend six years in school. I had studied books and spent a good amount of time reading up on human brains.

From my experience or lack thereof, I would probably deter that Justin had insecurity issues just like the guys in high school. Or maybe Justin had been turned down so much in his younger years that he was trying to make up for it now. He was obviously narcissistic, egotistical and in need of constant attention.

What if someone turned the tables on him?

"That would be priceless." I laughed to myself, thinking about how taken off guard he would be.

If I was strong enough for it, I would lead him on and give into his advances but at the very last second, flip out and switch to positions, making me the dominant one. He would probably be floored but that would only make him want me more. What I wouldn't give for that. For him to want me like I wanted him? My libido would never catch up.

I would let him play his tricks with me, thinking that he was winning but the whole time, I would have the upper hand.

"Why can't I? I could pull this off." I muttered out loud.

I would lure him in. Maybe I would sleep with him, maybe I wouldn't but I would be the one to chose how this would play out, not him. I could leave him high and dry or I could go all the way, which I probably would but not before making him suffer. He was going to have to chase me and I would make him work for it. What the hell was he going to do with himself once he realized I wasn't as easy as the rest of his big titted, whores. Poor Justin.

I knew my plan was bitchy and incredibly mean but it was guys like Justin that made me sick. I wouldn't have even given him the time of day if he wasn't so drop dead gorgeous. With the way he acted, it was like an automatic turn off. Maybe I couldn't change him but I could sure give him a dose of his own medicine.

He probably thought that I was some withering flower who would just fall on my knees for him and I hate to admit that I probably would have if he wasn't such a jerk.

He had probably always been in control but he had never met Selena Swan. To be perfectly honest, I didn't have that much experience in dating but I learned a few things over the years dealing with high school douche bags. Mike also taught me a lot and since we never had any kind of real relationship, he used every trick in the book on me to try to get me to sleep with him until I eventually caved. I would have to thank him the next time we talked.

Game on!

That night, for the first time in a week, I actually slept a full eight hours without moving or dreams of Justin.

When my alarm clock beeped at seven, I stretched and detected a small smile on my lips.

If I could keep up my act, Justin was going to get played like nothing he had ever experienced.

I had a certain bounce in my step as I got out of bed, went to take a quick shower and then found something to wear for the day. Maybe it was the fact that I had a new found mission or maybe it was the fact that Alice had all but wiped out my closet, but I wanted to wear something new and nice.

I chose a pair of dark washed, skinny jeans and a light green, short sleeved Polo that was starched and clean. I was tempted to wear a pair of the heels Alice had bought me just to show her that I could but decided against that. I just pulled on a simple pair of Keds and then brushed through my hair.

By the time I was done getting ready and had all my stuff together, it was time to meet Alice for breakfast downstairs. I threw my backpack over my shoulders and went out of the door, heading towards the elevator with more vigor than I had experienced since I got here.

I made it downstairs and found Alice sitting on a bench outside of the dining hall with a book in hand.

"Hi, don't talk. I have to finish this page." She said quickly as we continued to walk.

I noticed that she was reading Pride and Prejudice, one of my favorites but I followed her orders. We went through a line filled with bagels and morning pastries. I picked up things for the both of us since Alice was busy with her studying. She shut the book when we sat down at a table and then let out a deep breath.

"I have a huge test today but I think I've got it in the bag."

"That sounds promising." I took a bite of a danish.

Alice eyed me suspiciously, "Okay, what's going on? You look…different."

"Nothing. I just had a great sleep last night."

"No more Justin sex dreams?"

"No. He wasn't there." I answered simply.

"Why? Did you kill him in your head?" She giggled.

"Something like that." The evil grin was back on my face but I hid it from her.

We finished breakfast quickly and then parted ways to go to our separate classes.

I went to my first math class and just sat there while the professor droned on about polynomials and easy equations. I had always been good at math so this wasn't too difficult.

Since today was Monday that meant I only had two classes, math and my literature one later on in the day. Northwestern had a weird schedule that was different from other universities in that its packed classes were on a Tuesday, Wednesday, Friday schedule and those were the days when we had the most classes. Mondays and Thursdays were used by students to search for job opportunities once we got into upper level years.

I was convinced that this schedule system was just a way for students to sleep off their hangovers from the weekend but it seemed to work for the staff as well so no one was complaining.

I sat on the grass in a quad that overlooked part of the river that flowed through the campus.

Many people didn't know this but the main campus of Northwestern wasn't in Chicago but in Evanston , a suburb on the north side of the city. It was closer to downtown than some of the other suburbs of the city. It was only a ten minute cab ride to some of the sights and around this area was where the rich families lived who had old railroad money or oil deposits in Texas.

It made me slightly jealous but I got over that quickly.

I pulled out my copy of The Jungle and prepared to dive headfirst into the gore and filth of early 20th century Chicago when I felt my phone vibrate in my jeans. I had decided to start carrying it around for some reason but since I barely knew anyone, it hardly rang.

I pulled it out of my pocket and stared at the number. I didn't recognize the digits and debated for three rings on whether or not to answer it. My curiosity eventually took over and I opened the phone, holding it to my ear.

"Hello."

"Uh…hi. Is this Selena?" I heard the smooth, cold, voice of Justin Bieber on the other side.

"Yes." I answered, my smirk from this morning back on.

This was better than I could have expected. Justin wanted me, that I knew but he had initiated contact meaning that he wanted me bad. I was about to turn his world around.

"How are you?" He asked in an awkward way.

He was nervous. Could he be nervous?

I put on an annoyed voice that I had to muster up from the depths of my throat, "I'm fine. Can I help you?"

"Uh…no. I was just wondering if you got home safely the other night."

"Yes I did all thanks to Tyler. We had a great time."

I heard him grumble something under his breath but it was indistinguishable.

He was acting like this was high school, which was perfect for my plan. I figured he had never been in this position before, therefore he didn't know how to treat me. He wanted to fuck me but didn't know how to get me that far. This was going to be fun.

"How's school going?" His voice was stronger than before and I suspected that he gave himself a little pep talk before opening his mouth again.

"Good. I'm adjusting well and I like my classes." I talked with clipped answers, like we had never had any interaction before.

"That's good…I guess."

There were a couple seconds of silence and I almost burst out laughing. This poor man had no idea what he was doing, which told me that he was used to getting what he wanted on the first go.

"Is there a reason why you called?" I asked very bitchy-like. It hurt me to treat him this way but then I thought about how he treated me at the fountain, at Carmel. I wasn't a piece of trash, damn it.

"I…I…" He stammered for the right words and I thought I heard a female voice on the other end. Now that I listened harder, I could definitely hear her.

I smiled and evil grin. He was being coached. Oh, he thought he was going to win. I think not!

"I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner." Justin gritted through his teeth.

"Justin, I have to go to class but I don't think so." I shut the phone before he had the chance to say anything back.

I threw my hands up in the air and lay back on the grass.

"Phase one complete." I shouted. I'm sure some people looked at me weird but at this point, I was done caring.

Justin was a persistent man and even from the few times I had met him, I could figure out that he didn't give up on challenges.

I was proven right when he called back every half hour, on the half hour for the rest of the day. I was going to accept his date but I had to hold him off and make him wait. I even thought to go as far as to bruise his ego and call him, accepting that way but that might be taking it too far. I didn't want to overstep my bounds.

I didn't let Alice in on my little game because I knew she would jump for joy and try to weasel her way in. That would only confuse me and I needed a clear head for this. I could plan Justin's war from his side to a simple equation.

I felt like I knew him.

He was going to "play" me until I whittled down and gave in to his scams. He would then proceed to impress me with his money or charm. I would act like it was working and then he would think that he was winning. When it came to go home, he would probably believe that I was going up to bed with him but I was going to string this out for awhile and milk him for all he was worth.

My willpower wasn't that strong and in about a week or so, I would probably let him have his way with me but it was going to be on my terms. That way, neither of us would get hurt and he would get a taste of what he dishes out on a regular basis.

I felt like an evil scientist in my lap, devising plans to take over the world.

That night, after I had done a fair amount of studying and completed my routine for bed, I decided to answer when he called next, which was exactly on the dot at ten. I suspected that this was his last call of the night and if I didn't get this one, I would miss him.

I waited for a couple of seconds before answering, "Hello?"

"Selena, is that you?" Justin sounded actually hopeful.

"Yes, sorry I haven't been answering but I was in class and then I had a study session in the library afterward. I didn't get home until about ten minutes ago."

"I was busy also so it wasn't a big deal."He played it off, "So…how was your day?"

"Fine, nothing exciting. You?"

"It was alright. I spent most of it wondering how to ask you out again so that you won't say no." I could practically see his smirk over the phone. The Justin Bieber that I knew was back. Gone away was the awkward voice from before and in its place was arrogance.

"And have you found out a way to do that yet?"

"You're a very peculiar girl Ms. Swan."

"How did you know my last name?" I asked, slightly perturbed that he was winning this battle.

"I have my ways but like I was saying, you a very strange. I have to admit that I have never had to go this far for a girl before."

"I figured." I said.

"You've provided quite the challenge but I'm willing to play. I would like to take you to dinner."

"I can't…"

"Yes you can. Tomorrow. I'll pick you up."

"I don't…"

"Is eight good for you? No, I think seven would be better."

"No… I already have plans and…"

"No you don't and stop trying to fight me."

"You don't even know where I live."

"Leave that to me. I'll see you tomorrow night at seven." He hung up the phone quickly while I sat stunned with mine still on my ear.

This provided an issue.

I never expected him to come back so strongly but that was okay. I wasn't planning on letting him take me down so quickly. I probably would have really gone out with him if I didn't have to study tomorrow night. I had a massive test the next day so my excuse was legit but he never gave me a chance to explain.

I shrugged off the loss and went to bed. Once again, my dreams were void of nightmares.

I woke up the next morning and went about my schedule as normal. I was ready to go by seven-thirty and opened my door to a sight that made me blush ten times the shade of hell.

There opposite my door on the other side of the wall was a bushel of bright yellow roses situated in an elaborate crystal vase. There must have been about twenty of them stuffed in there, all in full bloom with the petals open in the most beautiful way. There was a note attached to the vase.

I slowly approached the roses and read the card.

I am looking forward to dinner tonight. You'll have to look up what yellow means in the rose world yourself.

-Justin

That was all it said and it was slightly eerie in its simplicity. I looked around the hall, and nearly called the police.

Last I checked, we had some pretty tight security in this dorm and not just anyone could walk up. I suppose Justin could have had the night prompter at the desk downstairs bring them up but that seemed out of character for him. What the hell did I know though? I had only met the man three times.

I quickly picked the flowers up off of the floor and took them back into my room, setting them on the desk near the window.

I picked a rose out of the center of the bunch and couldn't help but smile as I pressed it to my nose.

No, Selena!

I set it back in the bunch and assessed the situation I was in. He was good, very good. I didn't know if he was fighting this war fairly or not but I suspected he wasn't. The roses were a nice gesture and he was winning this battle as well. That I did not like.

As much as I still wanted to hate Justin, I had to admit that he was playing this game very well.

I booted up my laptop and did a simple Google search for 'yellow roses'. The main words that popped up were joy, gladness, friendship, delight but one phrase caught me off guard: promise of a new beginning.

I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth and thought for a second.

That was all it took, one second, for my walls to crumble. All these thoughts of 'what if' came into my head. What if this wasn't a game for him? What if he really did like me? What if he was trying to be a better person? What if, what if, what if…

As much talk as I was spitting, Justin either knew exactly what he was doing or had a really good coach. He was knifing his way into my brain. I had taken on a little too much for me to handle but now that I was on this train, I couldn't jump off.

"You have to stay strong. You can't fall for him." I ran my hands through my hair, "You can do this." I sighed and nodded to myself.

I turned off my computer and took another glance at the roses before leaving my room.

I met Alice this morning with a more subdued nature than I had yesterday.

"What's wrong with you?" She asked as we walked to the dining hall.

"I talked to Justin last night." I decided to let her in somewhat.

"Really?" She stopped walking, "What did he want?"

"He asked me out to dinner tonight." I said apprehensively.

"Oh my God. He did?"

I nodded, "And then this morning, there were some yellow roses outside of my door, in the hall. They were from him."

Alice covered her mouth with her hand, "That is so sweet. He likes you."

"Don't jump the gun Alice. He treats girls like shit. I bet he does this to all of them." I said as we got in line for food. I wasn't hungry this morning so I just got orange juice.

"Still, he's making an effort. That has to mean something, right?"

"I guess." I answered.

The whole day, I was on pins and needles because I didn't know if I should call Justin and explain or just leave him hanging tonight, waiting for me to come out for our date. As much as I wanted to embarrass him that way, it just seemed like too much.

Around lunch, I called the number that he had used last night and picked at some grass that I was sitting on. I didn't really know what I was going to say but I hoped he would understand that I wasn't trying to blow him off. Well…I was…but…

I've got myself in way too deep!

Justin was a pro at this and I figured that he knew I was playing with his emotions so he decided to participate in the most confusing way. He was turning that tables on me and that was not good.

He didn't pick up when I called at lunch or an hour later when I tried so I left him a message saying that I was really sorry about foiling his plans for the night but I had a test to study for and couldn't make it. Justin didn't call me back at all that day, making my nerves go haywire.

Did he care that I couldn't make it? Had he given up on me?

It was completely insane how he had turned things around in a day. I had gone from my confident bitch-self to the confused hormonal teenager that I was.

Alice picked my brain for the rest of the day, asking about what I was going to do. She said that I needed to forget about studying and just go out with Justin but I was a better student than that.

The only problem was that I couldn't study, not with my mind racing that night. I sat at my desk and watched as the clock on my laptop went from six-fifty nine to seven. I half expected Justin to jump through my window or knock on my door but there was nothing.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven.

Not a call or anything to tell me whether or not Justin had accepted my apology for canceling our date.

The next morning, I woke up a little more down than I had been the previous days. Before I even went about my day, something told me to check in the hallway. I jumped out of bed and nearly ripped the door off its hinges.

There, just like they were yesterday morning, were a bushel of yellow roses in another glass vase. I smiled to myself as I picked them up and brought them into my room. The note was as simple as before.

So sad that we couldn't meet up last night. Tonight, same time? If I don't hear from you then I'll assume that's a no. Good luck on your test.

-Justin

I put the flowers next to the ones from yesterday and compared them. They were both beautiful and had long stems. I picked up a yellow rose from today's batch and smelled it deeply. It was sweet and floral without being overpowering. There was still some dew on the petals meaning that they must have been delivered right before I work up.

I was about to lay the rose back in its place when a thorn from the stem, cut my index finger, drawing a small amount of red liquid. I was usually repulsed by blood, like that night at Plasma but I didn't feel any pain or uneasiness now. Instead, I let the blood run from my finger, over the full petals of the rose I was holding, staining the yellow petal a pink color.

"What are you doing to me Justin?" I asked myself and thought about the trouble he was going through for me.

I didn't realize I was such a hot commodity but I guess I was. Two bushels of roses in two days. What a risk to take for a lay that might or might not happen.

I decided before I left for the day that I would call Justin and accept his invitation to dinner.

I called as I was walking to my first class but he didn't pick up. I left a message and was suddenly giddy. I reminded myself that Justin was a complete playboy who was just trying to fuck the life out of me but I was sure that I could hold him off until I was ready. I was still planning on winning this war, no matter how sweet or falsely sweet he was being. He called me back when I was in class and I was tempted to get up to answer it, but I didn't. We played phone tag all day and I eventually just gave up, leaving him a final message that I would be ready to go at seven.

I didn't have to ask Alice twice to help me get ready and she jumped over the table to hug me at lunch when I told her.

"Even though I'm mad at you for not giving me any warning, I'm so happy." She clapped her hands when she sat back down in her seat across from me.

"It's just dinner so nothing too fancy."

"You have a boyfriend." She mocked in a playful voice.

"That is exactly what I don't have. Justin is just a venue for sex. I know what he wants from me, he's told me and once he realizes that that's all we have, he can leave me alone."

That was what I was afraid of.

"I don't think so. He likes you. I have a sixth sense about these things." She tapped her temple, "I just know."

"I don't think you do. You'll see. After we get a couple good fucks out of our system, it's going to be over."

"When do you plan on letting him get that far? Hopefully not on the first try?" She hitched her eyebrow.

"I didn't budge the first two times he asked and I plan on keeping a little dignity. Maybe a week…does that sound good?"

"You're better than me. I would have jumped his bones in an instant. I don't care if that makes me a slut." She shrugged.

"I just need to make it past a couple of dinners, feel him out. I think he just expects me to roll over."

"Let me guess, you're trying to teach him a lesson." She rolled her eyes.

"Is that bad?"

"Stop kidding yourself Selena. Men like him rarely lose at this kind of thing and I can see it in your eyes. He's getting to you." She pushed herself up from the table, "See you tonight."

I held my head in my hands and tried to convince myself that Justin wasn't winning this but the truth couldn't be denied.

The rest of the day went well, the only problem being Tyler who thought that he could ask me out again since our last date was thwarted. I told him no and moved across the room in my literature class so he wouldn't be tempted to talk to me.

I got home at five and Alice was sitting on my bed, reading a magazine. She didn't even speak as she pointed to the bathroom. I jumped in the shower and made sure that I washed twice, shaved everything that needed it, and soaked my hair in shampoo.

I was jittery and nervous about this because as much as I wanted to break Justin's bad boy ways, I knew that it would only take a little for him to break me instead.

I sat in front of my mirror as Alice blow dried and styled my hair into a messy side bun. She seemed to like that style on me and was testing it out like I was a Barbie doll. On this occasion, I needed all the help I could get.

She did my makeup lightly, saying that I didn't need much and left me to put on my underwear. When I was done, I went into my room where she had a full spread laid out. I silently put on what she had for me.

The dress had a tag that said Herve Leger and it was a dark blue, not navy but royal color that looked amazing against my skin. It was a bandaged dress as Alice called it so it hugged my body all the way down to where it stopped a couple inches above the knee, making sure to show off what little figure I had. The sleeves were capped and the neckline was asymmetrical, cutting across my collarbone at an angle. It was very sexy without being slutty. There was a small cutout in a diamond shape in the back to show off some skin and I thought Justin would like a little enticement for tonight. Once again, the dress probably cost more than my life so I didn't ask.

The shoes were slightly frightening with their five inch heels but I had begun to actually enjoy being taller. That's not to say that I liked wearing scary, high shoes all the time but Alice was starting to convert me. Tonight's pair were white pumps that were closed toed and had a good inch raise on the front of them. I was still short as hell but I was trying so that must count for something.

"You and your boyfriend are going to have such a good time." Alice circled me and placed a purse in my hands.

"He's not my boyfriend. Just one week of this and I'm through." I stood up straight, turning to see myself in the mirror.

She just shook her head and mumbled something to herself.

"I think I'm ready." I said and put on a silver watch that used to belong to Renee but she gave it to me when I moved away. I only wore it sometimes.

"Hold on." Alice jumped to my desk and plucked a yellow rose out of the bunch, perfectly clipping the stem off with her nails.

"What are you doing?" I asked and tried to move away from her.

"It will show that you actually appreciate what he did for you. Come here." She placed the rose in my side bun and then back away, proud of her efforts.

"I hope he doesn't get the wrong idea with all of this." I grumbled.

"You'll do fine. Now go out there and get your man." She pushed me out of the door.

"Stop calling him that." I said when she shut the door, "You better be gone by the time I come back." I said from the other side and then stalked off towards the elevators.

I got in with a group of guys who looked like they were going out to a bar. I stood in the corner tapping my heel as we went down the floors. They kept looking at me and saying things under their breath.

"Is there a problem?" I snapped.

"No. We were just rating you." A guy nodded to me.

"Rating me?"

"Yeah, you're between a nine and ten. We're not sure yet."

"Disgusting." I said to myself and just kept my eyes forward.

The elevator doors finally dinged at the first floor and I went out quickly, checking my watch. It was seven exactly and the sun was still in the sky but about to set.

I stepped into the light and looked completely out of place among the jean dressed and tee shirt wearing college population. I decided to just wait for Justin because I figured he would make himself known. I sat on a bench under a tree and crossed my legs. As soon as my butt hit the stone, I heard the thundering engine of a car coming down the street and saw a cherry red sports car emerge, trying to honk its way past the slow students who were staring.

"Of course." I shook my head as I saw Justin behind the wheel.

He pulled to a screeching halt in front of me and my green eyed fantasy steeped out of the car, looking more like a model than a real estate agent.

Justin was in head-to-toe labels. Alice would be proud.

He had on a navy blue, pin-striped suit with pants that fit him to a T and an open dinner jacket with a light blue shirt underneath. The top few buttons were undone, showing off a sprinkle of chest hair and his shoes were gleaming in the setting sun. He had on a pair of black Ray Ban sunglasses and his hair was more tamed but still unruly.

He spotted me in the seat that I hadn't moved from and sauntered over to me with too much authority and a grin. He didn't say anything as he took my hand and lifted it smoothly to his lips. A jolt of fire went through my body at his touch and I was determined to make it at least a week before I gave in but it was going to be hard.

"Hello, beautiful." Were his first words and I swear to God that I almost ripped open my dress right there so that he could just take me.

Instead of showing my lust, I decided that bitchiness would be the best way to go so I replied with a, "Could you be more cliché?"

"I knew you would appreciate the extreme gesture." He waved his hand towards his car, "And I see you got the roses?" He pointed to my hair and tugged on my hand, lifting me off of the bench.

"Yes, they were very nice." I said a little too professionally but I didn't know how to act.

He was being nice but I knew there was an end goal so I didn't let him sneak his way in.

"I feel so bad that we couldn't go out sooner." He started leading me towards his car that had a few people around it. His hand was on the small of my back and I literally felt the wetness flood in between my legs.

Stay strong!

"I'm sorry about that. I had to study last night so…"

"No, I understand. I wouldn't want you to miss out on your studies especially since you are in such a critical point in your educational career."

I looked up at him weirdly.

"You're a junior, right? Isn't that when you start looking for job opportunities and master's programs?"

Shit!

"Oh, right. I've been so busy, I forgot." I lied smoothly.

The car beeped and the people around it scattered.

"Very nice car." I admired the sleek beast.

"Just one of many, beautiful." His pet name was warming my heart but I kept my mind running at full speed so that I wouldn't get confused.

Justin opened the door to his million dollar car and it went straight up into the air, not out vertically like a normal car door would.

"Wow." I said, slightly impressed and could tell that Justin loved my reaction. I mentally scolded myself for letting him affect me.

"That's only the half of it." He whispered into my ear before helping me into the car.

He closed the door and I used the time he was walking around to his side, to get some sanity back into my body.

This was going to be harder than I thought!

He got into the car smoothly and closed his door. The car didn't even need a key to start, he just pushed a button on the dashboard and it came to life with a rumble.

"So…where are we off to?" I asked, tying not to be too impressed by his vehicle that I realized could be a very Freudian way of showing off the rather large dick that I guessed was under those pants.

"I've been planning this date for a long time so I wanted to make it special." He took off his sunglasses and looked at me. My whole body tingled from his green irises. Good thing the tinted windows of the car weren't letting much light in or I might not make it if I had to see them fully illuminated.

I realized that it was time to stop acting so mousy around him. On his biography from the 'Chicago's Sexiest Bachelors' list, it said that he liked a confident woman. He already liked me but I wanted to pull him in further.

"You've been planning this for a long time?" I inquired skeptically, "You can't like me that much."

"On the contrary Selena." He sped off down the street with one hand on the wheel, leaning back in a very sexy way, "I find you fascinating and really intriguing. I just can't leave you alone." His voice was dripping with innuendo.

"Well then, I shouldn't have kept you waiting."

"That's what I was trying to say but you're a stubborn little thing. I realized that the only way to get what I want is to treat you more appropriately."

"Your coach must have trained you right." I propped my head on my hand and watched him, gazed at him, got mesmerized by him.

"My coach?" He chuckled.

"Yeah. I wouldn't expect you to really know anything about romance."

"Wrong again, beautiful. My mother raised three very romantic men. We might not always show it but we know how to woo." He smirked at me.

"So why do you act like such a dick." It slipped out before I had a chance to catch my words but I didn't regret them.

"Because I can." He said simply and then raised the speed of the car to a steady one hundred. I would have normally been freaking out but something about him made me feel calm.

"Where are we going? You're not trying to kill me are you?" I laughed and sat back in the black leather seat.

"If I wanted you dead, you already would be." He said jokingly but something about his tone told me he was serious. That was kind of scary, "I've rented us a boat."

"Rented us a boat?"

"Let me rephrase, it's my boat but I had to rent a captain. I would normally man the thing myself but I will be romancing you all night so I won't have the time." He ran his hand through his hair, almost causing my libido to explode.

"You're a man of James Bond-like proportions, aren't you? Fast cars, boats, obvious money coming out of your butt."

"James Bond wishes he were me." Justin sped up again, swerving through slower cars on the highway.

I didn't ask where we were going again but I recognized that we were heading in the direction of Lake Michigan. It took us fifteen more minutes of deathly, silent driving before we arrived at our destination.

"What's this?" I asked as he slowed the car into a parking lot.

"This…is the marina. All the boats dock here." He turned off the car and quickly got out. With lightening speed, he was at mine and opened it for me, taking my hand in his. The fire from his touch was back but I ignored it.

I straightened out my dress when I got out of the low car and Justin waited for me to re-fix myself before leading me towards the docks where more than one hundred boats were bobbing in the water. The sun was behind the clouds, almost behind the horizon, casting deep colors of pink and purple over the sky.

"This is where all the rich guys bring their boats after a weekend in the water." Justin snickered, "You should see them in the summer. It's pathetic."

"You're one of those rich men, are you not?" I grinned at him as he helped me down the stairs of the dock. I was actually surprised I hadn't fallen yet in my pumps.

"Through my father, yes. You'll soon learn that everyone in this circle has more to hide than what's on the surface." He said cryptically. Everything about this man was mysterious and that was just pulling me in further.

We made it to the wooden pier, with boats on either side of us.

"Which one is your's or your father's I should say?"

"My father just gave me the resources to make my own money. I own what's mine." He corrected me.

"A self made man, I like." I said stupidly.

He laughed, "I'm glad you approve, beautiful."

He kept his hold on me, which had went from the small of my back to my waist but I made sure he didn't dip lower towards my hips. We walked, our shoes making soft noises on the wood until we came to a massive boat, no yacht, at the end of the wharf.

"Please tell me this isn't your's." I walked in front of it and looked like a dwarf compared to the enormous ship. It was like standing in front of the Spanish Armada.

"Selena, I would like to introduce you to Capriccio." He patted the side of the smooth white painted yacht.

"Justin, this is amazing." I awed, all pretenses of trying to sound unimpressed were thrown out of the window.

"I bought it after I graduated Harvard Business." He crossed his arms and watched me circle the boat.

"Harvard? " I raised an eyebrow, "Your arrogance is showing."

"Your beauty is showing." He shot back. Even though it was probably the cheesiest thing I had ever heard, I blushed like the devil in heat. Something told me that the real Justin, the man underneath all of the wealth, would have said that same thing.

My new goal: find the man under the money.

I still kept up my blasé attitude towards him and rolled my eyes, "Just help me up on this thing Casanova."

The steps to the yacht were right at the pier line, so I didn't have to step very high but Justin wouldn't let go of me as we went up onto the deck of the boat that was illuminated by soft lighting from the floorboards and over head.

"What's all this." I whispered to him as I saw a waiting staff with pressed suits and pearly white smiles.

"They're all helping me romance you since I can't do it myself." Justin whispered back with a grin.

"Good evening, Ms. Swan." An older gentleman with a white beard tipped his head to me, "My name is Jerry and I'll be your guide for the evening." He clapped his hands and the staff quickly spread out, going to do different things, "Would you like a tour?" He offered me his arm and I took it.

The yacht in question was a Lazzara LSX 92, which Justin was quick to point out when I asked. He stayed behind Jerry and I, letting us walk ahead as we went on the tour but I would glance back at him sometimes and he would always have a warm smile.

The first thing about the boat I noticed was that it was very modern, not like I thought it would be since a lot of the other ships on the docks were older. I got the specific facts from Jerry and learned that Capriccio was ninety-one feet in length with a maximum speed of thirty-one knots. I had no idea what that meant but I figured that was fast.

The whole thing was built for comfort with two floors connected by a spiral staircase. Below deck, were four staterooms that looked like they could have been from any five star hotels in the world. They all had plush beds, cream carpets, comfy looking chairs and flat screens everywhere. There were kitchens downstairs along with bathrooms and windows that opened up to reveal the outside world.

Above deck, there was tons of space all on deep hardwood floors that looked like they belonged in a nice house somewhere. There were more TVs up here along with a long dining table that was adorned with candles, a white sheet and fine china. Justin explained that was for our date.

Jerry quickly left us on the deck after he finished the tour. Justin and I stood over the back railing as the sun began to set. The boat took off from the docks and we were soon sailing over Lake Michigan.

"This is...incredible." I said, looking out over the water, "Thank you."

"I didn't want to take you out to some restaurant. Then you'd be comparing me to that jackass you were with at Carmel." He replied.

"I just went out with him to get him off my back." I saw Justin move closer to me out of the corner of my eye.

"I could tell you weren't having a good time." He snickered, "I felt so bad for the kid. He was trying so hard."

"You're trying pretty hard yourself." I nudged his shoulder. It just felt like we had known each other for a long time and I was comfortable with him after that first initial awkwardness of the night. .

"Touché." He hit me back.

We stayed silent for a long time, just watching the moon overtake the sun and it was the first time that I had actually seen stars since I moved to Chicago.

"You truly do look beautiful." Justin said sweetly and I couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

"Thank you." I couldn't help but smile at him.

Damn it!

He was working his magic.

"Are you sure you don't say that with all your dates?" I asked.

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret." He leaned in, "I don't usually go on dates."

"Oh? You were on one at Carmel."

He groaned and pulled at his hair, "Her name is Vienna and I've known her for years. We had...a thing but I want to break it off. She's kind of insane."

"More so than you?"

"You have no idea." He sounded pretty serious.

"Dinner is served, Mr. Bieber." Jerry said from behind us.

"Thank you." Justin replied and led me to the table, pulling out my chair for me.

He situated himself opposite the table and I saw a single yellow rose in a slim vase in the middle.

"I hope it wasn't presumptuous of me to send the flowers." Justin unfolded his napkin and put it in his lap.

"No, they were nice. Can I ask how you got them to my door?"

"I have my ways." He said.

"That's what you said about knowing my last name."

"I can't give away all my secrets Selena. That would take the thrill out of the romance I'm trying to bestow on you."

"Well, you're doing a good job so far. We'll see if you can keep it up."

The waiting staff quickly brought out a sprawling dinner of seafood that looked like it had just been fished from the sea. I felt slightly awkward being served but I didn't say anything.

Justin and I talked over hot pasta dishes, filled with crab, shrimp, lobster and clams along with steamed vegetables. There was soup and a salad along with champagne that I took small sips of, trying to make him think that I was twenty-one. I hoped we never got that far in conversation because that was something I didn't know how to tell him about.

About an hour into the meal, I realized that I was actually talking to Justin and he was actually talking to me. Two hours in, we were laughing. Three hours in, I had fallen for him. I didn't know if it was the alcohol or just the fact that I was comfortable with him but this Justin wasn't anything like the one I had previously met.

He was kind, he was polite, he was charming and funny, witty and could match my sarcasm. I didn't feel embarrassed with him and my usual clumsiness seemed to disappear.

"So, what about you? What's your story?" I asked Justin as I swirled some red wine in the glass. We had talked about me almost the whole time and he usually avoided himself.

"What about me?" He shrugged, "I'm your normal, twenty-five year old, real estate agent. I come from a rich Italian family, I go to church every Sunday, I have two brothers and I can't cook worth a lick." He laughed and took back the rest of the drink in his cup.

"That was a lot to take in but you've already said all that. Come on, I told you where I was from and about my family."

"No, you didn't You won't tell me about your father or your mother." He accused jokingly.

"That's because they're weird. You don't want to know about them." I shuddered.

"I want to know everything about you. I told you, you fascinate me." Justin leaned back in his seat and kept his eyes on me.

Our desert was served and we talked some more about me. I had to make sure to keep my story straight that I was a twenty-one year old junior. I didn't want to talk about Charlie or Renee because he would just think I was from a white trash family compared to his rich, upper crust one. So basically, I created a whole new persona for myself but that was okay because after a week, it would be like I never existed in Justin's eyes.

I was still sticking to my plan of the no sex thing for a while and it had to be on my terms. I was doing well so far with Justin's tricks so I was pretty sure that I could hold out.

"Why the name Capriccio for your boat?" I asked as we were heading back into the harbor. The moon was high in the sky and I didn't even want to look at what time it was.

"It's an Italian name for a musical term."

"What does it mean?"

"It categorizes a piece of music that's free of form. Little is paid attention to tempo or key. It usually occurs when a person just sits and plays, letting everything go." He looked up to the sky and let out a deep breath.

"Do you play something?"

He laughed, "You didn't see the giant piano downstairs?"

I blushed, "I was kind of more focused on everything else."

"I know how you feel. My mother designed most of it and I still can't get over all of this sometimes." He held out his hands to show off his domain.

Justin was the strangest man I had ever met.

It was like talking with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I still remembered what an ass he was the other two times I met him but this time, something was different about him. He was relaxed.

The boat docked and Justin helped me off of the yacht. I thanked everyone for being so nice. I was in Justin's car, heading back into the city and that was when the real sexual tension began.

It had been building all night but Justin and I had been able to keep it at bay. Of course I saw him eying my chest and I even swiveled my hips a little more than necessary but I hoped he didn't expect me to put out so soon. Shame on him.

Justin kept his hands to himself on the drive home and I was surprised that he hadn't tried to ask me into his bed again. He was being surprisingly good, which confused me but I tried to act like nothing was bothering me.

Why wasn't he asking to sleep with me again? I had made most of my plans on the assumption that he was going to be a jackass so he was throwing a wrench into my path and that wasn't a way for me to win this war.

The car halted in front of my dorm and Justin turned it off.

"So, how did I do with the romance?" He shifted towards me.

"Good, I was pleasantly surprised."

"I knew you would be. How did I compare to Tyler?" He asked mockingly.

"Are you trying to find out which of you is going to be the better lay?"

"You keep a list?" His lip twitched.

"Maybe. You won't know for a while though." I bit my lip and saw him watching me lustily.

"A while? Is that how long it's going to take me?"

"Maybe."

"You are one fascinating creature." He said, almost to himself.

"I think that's the fourth or fifth time you've said that tonight."

"I'm sorry, I just can't help it."

We sat in the car for another minute and I check my watch, slightly annoyed that it was one in the morning.

"Well…goodbye. This was fun." I started to open the door, not really wanting to leave.

"Yes, it was." He replied.

"Thank you." I got out of the car and closed the door. I didn't know if he planned on setting up another date or what but I suddenly didn't want to leave him.

I started walking up the sidewalk, my heels clicking on the pavement when I heard another door close.

I was spun around gently within the next second and soft lips engulfed mine.

Justin crashed his lips to mine and something animalistic erupted in my blood. If felt like I had been kissing for years as I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer. My hands immediately went into his hair and the taste of wine mixed with his natural taste was overwhelming. His lips were the most succulent thing I had ever tasted in my life and I sucked his bottom one gently while he took my top one into his mouth.

He licked my bottom lip softly and I opened my mouth while moaning against the force of our kiss. Our tongues thrashed together and I didn't even think I took a breath the entire time that we stayed connected.

We didn't bother with formalities as our tongues collided in a wicked dance of wetness that I loved. I began scratching his scalp involuntarily as his strong hands massaged my hips. My skin was burning, my ears were ringing, my feet were hurting but I could have cared less.

All the planning and war strategy that I had in my head were gone, evaporated with his kiss that was about to kill me.

I had to pull back when I couldn't breathe anymore but kept my eyes locked on his.

His left hand traveled up my body, from my hip to my neck where he left it for a second. It wasn't an inappropriate touch but one filled with a sensual nature that still felt caring. He moved some hair out of my face and put it behind my ear. I felt his fingers smoothly pull the flower out of my tendrils and he brought it to his nose.

"I think I'll keep this for good memories." He smirked, "Can I call you again?"

"I would like that." I whispered, still trying to pull myself together from that kiss.

"I would like that as well." He bent down to peck my lips innocently, once, twice and then pulled back completely, "Look out for my call in a couple of days. Goodnight Selena." He walked backwards to his beast, never taking his eyes off of me.

He got into his car and sped off like Batman while I was left on the sidewalk.

I almost died right there.

I went into the building, pulled out my id to show to the night promoter who let me in and then got into the elevators.

The 'what if' bug came back into my head as I went up the floors.

Justin didn't ask to come up, he didn't make any suggestions as to sex, he didn't even make a sick joke after our kiss. I suddenly realized that I was starting to like this Justin and if this is the one that I would be meeting from now on, I was in trouble. What if he liked me and this wasn't just a ploy? What if…

I didn't even realize that I was at my floor until the doors were about to close. I had to take off my heels to walk to my room because the high in my mind was making it impossible to walk. I put the key in and opened the door to an empty room.

I was thankful that Alice wasn't here because I needed to rest after that. I stripped out of my clothes and just climbed into bed in my underwear.

That night, my mind was set at ease as I finally found the perfect shade of green to describe Justin's eyes. It was spring green. The color of summer grass and it was all I thought about in my dreams.

I was woken up by my alarm clock and was still wondering whether last night actually happened or not. I sat up and just stayed in that position for a long time, thinking.

He was making me fall for him. He was tricking me. He was using me and I knew it. The problem was, I didn't have enough strength to stop him. I was through.

I got out of bed and was about to past the door to go into the bathroom but stood in front of it, debating whether or not to go out into the hallway. I took a leap of faith, not caring that I was only in a bra and panties, and opened the door.

On the other side was a large heaping mass of about thirty long stemmed, vivid orange, full pedaled, summer roses in another crystal container. They didn't have a note this time but it wouldn't have been hidden anyway by the flowers that were overflowing over the rim of the vase.

I picked the flowers up and brought them inside, setting them next to the other two groups. Two yellows and one orange. My smile was real this time, genuine.

I started up my computer and brushed my teeth while it came to life. By the time I was done, it was up and running so I logged onto Google, typing 'orange roses' into the search engine.

As I read the description on the first website that popped up, my foot was tapping and I was twirling a piece of hair around my finger. I had to read the summary four times before I understood it.

With their blazing energy, orange roses are the embodiment of desire and enthusiasm. Orange roses often symbolize passion and excitement and are an expression of fervent romance. A bouquet of orange roses will send a meaningful message.

I sat back in my chair and came to one final conclusion.

I was royally fucked!

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itsfinancethings · 5 years

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October 03, 2019 at 06:13AM

The warning signs were there. In a tweet or offhand remark, President Donald Trump would touch on what he said Ukraine had done to him during the 2016 election. Top Administration officials got an earful. Foreign leaders were treated to the stories. Occasionally his rants would unspool on live TV. “And Ukraine!” Trump shouted down the line to a Fox News host on June 19, the night after he formally announced his re-election bid. “Take a look at Ukraine!” he went on, as the host tried to move to other subjects.

Few people, even those closest to him in the White House, grasped exactly what the President of the United States seemed to believe: that Ukraine, a nation consumed over the past five years by a crippling armed conflict with Russia, had found a way to conspire against him during the 2016 election, and to collude with his rival, Hillary Clinton, by hiding the Democratic National Committee’s email server and feeding her allies dirt about Trump. It was an idea Tom Bossert, his first homeland-security adviser, described as a “completely debunked” conspiracy theory. Few saw in his Ukraine outbursts anything more than the effusions of a cable-news showman.

It took a complaint from an intelligence-community whistle-blower, released late last month, to reveal the weight of Trump’s Ukraine conspiracy theory and just how far the President has gone to support the notion that a vast network of enemies inside and outside his own government has been working against him. Trump has tried to mobilize the vast resources of his presidency–from Attorney General William Barr and the U.S. Justice Department to America’s national-security apparatus–and a team of investigative irregulars, led by his personal lawyer Rudy Giuliani. This band of conspiracy cops has traveled the globe in a disorderly hunt for proof of the conspiracy Trump says is arrayed against him.

In the past, many of his advisers tried to redirect Trump. They urged the President to accept the consensus of U.S. intelligence agencies: the true conspiracy of the 2016 election was that Russia interfered on his side. But those voices are long gone. In their place is a network of far-right Internet denizens, conservative media and members of Trump’s inner circle, advancing theories that have taken shape over the past two years. Those seeds have fallen on fertile ground.

Trump tells aides he is held to a double standard, a White House official tells TIME. Trump sees Joe Biden on tape saying the Obama Administration withheld aid until Ukraine fired its prosecutor, and then feels unfairly criticized for asking Ukraine to help investigate Biden and the origins of the Russia probe. To Trump, the official says, “It feels like people are coming at him over a bunch of bullsh-t while letting all this other stuff slide.” That sense of grievance has helped lead Trump into what Democrats and a handful of Republicans say are potentially impeachable offenses, first among them, using the power of the presidency to try and stay in office.

Trump’s focus on Ukraine turned into an invitation, an open call for a cast of sleuths to deliver the thing he craves: evidence, no matter how thin in substance or dubious in provenance, that he is right about his enemies, that he is the victim of a grand conspiracy and not in fact the purveyor of one. Tracing the origins of the Ukraine conspiracy theory and the President’s efforts to pursue it is central to understanding the political crisis consuming Washington.

TIME journalists, from Washington to Ukraine, have found a tangled mix of fact and fiction. Barr has launched a formal Justice Department investigation of the origins of the Mueller probe. Meanwhile, Giuliani has drawn on a network of sources, including a former prosecutor in Kiev, a wanted fugitive in Vienna and a pair of Russian-speaking businessmen in Miami in pursuit of Trump’s theories.

Trump and Giuliani–egged on by supporters chanting “Investigate the investigators!”–may still believe they will find enough proof to chasten their enemies. But so far their efforts have mostly hurt Trump, his Administration and the country. Barr is frustrated with Giuliani’s role in the unorthodox investigation. The White House counsel’s office is at loggerheads with some more politically minded White House aides over how to respond to the whistle-blower’s revelations. Democrats on the Hill are licking their lips at the opportunity to put Trump up for an impeachment trial. And the nation is struggling to understand where the truth actually lies.

It is perhaps not surprising that one of the first sources of the Ukraine conspiracy theory that has so captured the President’s imagination was the Russian Foreign Ministry in Moscow. As questions mounted over Kremlin interference in the 2016 presidential race, a ministry spokesperson suggested that Ukraine had “seriously complicated the work of Trump’s election-campaign headquarters by planting information” about its chairman, Paul Manafort. “All of you have heard this remarkable story,” the spokesperson, Maria Zakharova, told reporters in November 2016.

Like any good conspiracy theory, this one contained a sliver of truth. The leak that forced Manafort to leave the Trump campaign did come from Ukraine, and one of the people who publicized it was a lawmaker named Serhiy Leshchenko. Before he went into politics, Leshchenko worked as an investigative journalist and an activist against corruption. One focus of his research had been Manafort’s work for a Kremlin ally in Ukraine accused of siphoning at least $37 billion in government money into offshore bank accounts. “I’ve never made a secret of my anger at Manafort,” Leshchenko says. “He helped bring a regime to power that robbed my country.”

In August 2016, the New York Times revealed that Manafort had received more than $12 million in payments from that regime, and he was forced to resign from the Trump campaign. Days later, Leshchenko held a press conference in Kiev calling for Manafort to be investigated. That kindling–a wounded Trump campaign, the New York Times and an obscure Ukrainian lawmaker–would soon start a fire on the Internet, conflating events both real and imagined.

Leshchenko’s calls to investigate Manafort became part of a Ukrainian scheme with Democrats to smear the chairman of the Trump campaign. CrowdStrike, the security firm hired to investigate the hacking of emails from the DNC, was said to have covered up Ukraine’s role and framed Russia instead. And starting soon after his Inauguration, Trump piled on. “I heard [CrowdStrike is] owned by a very rich Ukrainian, that’s what I heard,” Trump told the Associated Press in April 2017. He would continue to repeat in other interviews that the firm was owned by Ukrainians or based there, despite the fact that it is a U.S. company based in Sunnyvale, Calif., with no known ties to Ukraine. Three months later, he cryptically tweeted about “Ukrainian efforts to sabotage Trump campaign” that had been “quietly working to boost Clinton.”

Whenever new allegations of Trump’s Russia ties emerged, his allies would revive the Ukraine theory. As the Mueller probe gained steam in the summer of 2017, Fox News host Sean Hannity devoted segments of his show to the allegations that the Clinton campaign had received help from Ukrainian officials, with a banner of the country’s blue-and-yellow flag reading in all-caps Ukrainian election interference? Trump’s son Donald Jr. amplified the Ukraine theories after his infamous Trump Tower meeting with a Kremlin-linked lawyer became public in July 2017, retweeting that “DNC operatives actively worked with Ukrainian government officials to dig up oppo research,” asking, “No outrage???” Trump’s attorney Jay Sekulow ran with this message on CNN a few days later, referring to “the situation with the Ukrainians and the DNC and the Clinton campaign, where information actually was shared.” Trump’s allies pointed to reporting by Politico and the New York Times that a DNC outreach coordinator had met with Ukrainian officials in Washington and shared information about Manafort’s work in Ukraine with reporters and the DNC.

As the Mueller probe drew to a close in the spring of this year, the President and Giuliani began to speak out more frequently about these theories. “As Russia Collusion fades, Ukrainian plot to help Clinton emerges,” Trump tweeted on March 20, two days before Mueller delivered his final report to the Attorney General.

All along, the pied piper of the Ukraine narrative was Giuliani. On the morning of May 11, a few days after a Senate committee called Trump’s eldest son to testify, Ukraine’s new government awoke to news footage of Giuliani declaring that there were “enemies of the United States” among them. Raising his voice over the anchor’s attempts to interrupt him, Trump’s lawyer even name-checked Leshchenko, the former journalist. He had been in line to join the Cabinet of President Volodymyr Zelensky, but Trump’s lawyer got in the way. “We knew Giuliani is the hand of Trump,” Leshchenko tells TIME. “Once he called me an enemy, it was clear I had to step aside.”

Trump soon took the theories about Ukraine straight to the country’s President. In a phone call on July 25–the day after Mueller’s testimony before Congress–Trump urged Zelensky to do him a favor. “I would like to have the Attorney General call you or your people” about this alleged collusion, Trump said. “And I would like you to get to the bottom of it.”

When the White House released a declassified summary of that call on Sept. 25, it showed just how aggressive Trump had been in pursuit of the matter, and just how varied a team he had enlisted in the effort. While Giuliani is a central player, Barr is second only to Trump in the power he wields in its execution. But when he first learned that Trump had raised his name on the call with Zelensky, the Attorney General was “angry and surprised to be lumped in together with the President’s personal attorney,” not least because Barr has never spoken about Ukraine to Giuliani, a person familiar with Barr’s thinking tells TIME.

But Barr’s role in this story has drawn plenty of attention, and criticism. While Trump publicly mused that Barr’s predecessor, Jeff Sessions, should investigate Ukraine’s role in the events that led to the Mueller probe, one former official who worked under Sessions does not recall the topic ever coming up inside the Justice Department. Barr, by contrast, dived right in.

Shortly after being confirmed to the job in February, Barr instructed the U.S. Attorney for Connecticut, John Durham, to look at “the extent to which a number of countries, including Ukraine, played a role in the counterintelligence investigation directed at the Trump campaign during the 2016 election,” according to a Justice Department statement in September. Asked what the basis for the investigation was, a Justice Department official says, “the Attorney General just saw enough things that weren’t adding up that he knew he needed to look into it.”

Barr himself has taken up the task of digging into the matter. In London this summer, he asked British authorities how much credence they gave former British spy Christopher Steele and a dossier he compiled on Trump’s alleged ties to Russia, two British officials briefed on Barr’s visit tell TIME. British intelligence officials found Barr’s request for information in the probe “rather unusual, coming as it did from the Attorney General instead of the usual channels,” one of the officials tells TIME.

Barr has also enlisted Trump. “At Attorney General Barr’s request, the President has contacted other countries to ask them to introduce the Attorney General and Mr. Durham to appropriate officials,” Justice Department spokesperson Kerri Kupec said in a statement on Sept. 30. Trump has spoken to Australia and possibly other leaders at Barr’s behest.

One troubling question is whether Barr, like Trump, crossed a line from pursuing a suspected conspiracy perpetrated during the last election into investigating Trump’s political rivals in the coming one. The whistle-blower alleged Barr appeared to be “involved” in the effort to “solicit interference from a foreign country in the 2020 U.S. election.” Pressed on whether Barr and Trump had discussed former Vice President Biden in connection with Ukraine, the Justice Department official reported no awareness of any conversations between the Attorney General and the President about Biden and Ukraine.

If Barr is trying to be discreet, Giuliani has been anything but. His pursuit of parallel investigations has triggered alarm at the highest levels of the White House. “The most dangerous stuff is Rudy flying around the world fixing sh-t,” a person close to Trump told TIME.

From Vienna and Kiev to Florida, Giuliani has recruited a cast of helpers in his effort to confirm Trump’s suspicions about Biden, Clinton and Ukraine. Among them was a pair of businessmen from Miami, Igor Fruman and Lev Parnas, who volunteered to be his eyes and ears in Kiev, they have said. Born in the Soviet Union and still connected in Ukraine to businessmen and politicians, the duo have made generous donations to Republican causes since 2016. With their assistance, Giuliani spoke to three politicians in Ukraine who had overseen investigations related to the Biden family. Parnas, Fruman and Giuliani have all spoken publicly about their efforts. “I was doing it because I felt as a U.S. citizen it was my patriotic duty,” Parnas told NPR in September.

So far, the most valuable source for Giuliani in Ukraine has been Viktor Shokin, a former prosecutor general, who spoke to Giuliani over Skype in late 2018. Shokin later wrote a damning 12-page statement accusing Biden of abuse of power during his tenure as Vice President. “I was forced to leave office, under direct and intense pressure from Joe Biden and the U.S. Administration,” in order to stop an investigation of the company where Hunter Biden worked, Shokin wrote.

That account has not stood up to scrutiny. Top officials in the U.S. and Ukraine, as well as independent experts and investigative journalists, have confirmed that Shokin was fired for his alleged corruption, and the investigation of Hunter Biden’s company was dormant at the time.

A parallel track in Giuliani’s efforts has been entrusted to a pair of American lawyers and Fox News regulars, Victoria Toensing and Joe DiGenova, who have worked with Giuliani for years and, according to a recent profile of them in Politico, “enjoy an open line to Trump.” This summer, they went to work for Dmitry Firtash, a Ukrainian tycoon who is wanted in Chicago for alleged corruption. In a legal filing in 2017, the DOJ referred to Firtash as an “upper-echelon associate of Russian organized crime.” He has strongly denied having links to the mafia and is fighting extradition to the U.S. on the bribery charges, which he also denies.

But the Firtash case has become a rich pool of material for Giuliani’s effort to discredit the Mueller investigation. In a legal filing in Vienna in July, lawyers for Firtash claimed that one of Mueller’s top investigators had offered to drop the bribery case against Firtash in exchange for damning testimony on Trump, Toensing and DiGenova tell TIME. “The oligarch,” Giuliani told Fox News on July 22, “basically said, ‘I’m not going to lie to get out of the case.'” (Mueller’s prosecutors have denied ever inappropriately pressuring witnesses to testify against Trump.)

For Trump’s critics, the scariest thing about his efforts to discredit the Mueller probe is the impact it will have on the 2020 election. U.S. intelligence agencies have warned repeatedly that Russia has again set out to influence the vote. “They’re doing it as we sit here,” Mueller told Congress in July.

Trump’s refusal to credit such warnings, and his attempts to cast them as a plot against his presidency, is going to make the Kremlin’s work much easier this time around, says Michael McFaul, a former U.S. ambassador to Moscow. “That is my prediction for what is going to happen in electoral politics in America moving forward,” McFaul tells TIME. Thanks to Trump’s “disinformation campaign,” he says, “Ukraine is going to become the focus of the 2020 elections. And that means Russia is off the hook.”

With reporting by Brian Bennett, Tessa Berenson, Massimo Calabresi, Abby Vesoulis and John Walcott/Washington

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How Sugar Daddies and Vaginal Microbes Created an HIV epidemic

https://healthandfitnessrecipes.com/?p=987

VULINDLELA, South Africa—Mbali N. was just 17 when a well-dressed man in his 30s spotted her. She was at a mall in a nearby town, alone, when he called out. He might have been captivated by her almond eyes and soaring cheekbones. Or he might have just seen her for what she was: young and poor.

She tried to ignore him, she told me, but he followed her. They exchanged numbers. By the time she got home, he had called her. He said he wasn’t married, and she doesn’t know if that was true. They met at a house in a different township; she doesn’t know if it belonged to him. Mbali, who is now 24, also doesn’t know if he had HIV.

She enjoyed spending time with the man during the day, when they would talk and go to the movies. But she didn’t like it when he called at night and demanded to have sex, which happened about six times a month. When she refused him, he beat her. For her trouble, he gave her a cellphone, sweets, and chocolates.

At the time, she had another boyfriend, who was her own age. The older man ordered her to leave the younger boy, and when she refused, he beat her again. Eventually, she grew tired of the abuse and ended the relationship.

Today, Mbali lives with her grandmother in Vulindlela, a verdant rural area near the eastern coast of South Africa, in the humid, hilly province of KwaZulu-Natal. Vulindlela means “open a way” in Zulu, but like many young women here, Mbali faces a lot of closed doors. She graduated high school but didn’t have the money for college, so she spends most of her days helping her grandmother with housework and taking care of her 2-year-old son. I asked if her experience with her “blesser,” as men who initiate transactional relationships are known here, prompted her to warn her friends against dating older men. She let out an exasperated little laugh.

“No!” she said. “They’ll just say I’m so jealous.”

Mbali is HIV negative. But 36 percent of the adults in Vulindlela are positive, as are about 60 percent of the women aged 25 to 40. Although HIV infection rates have stabilized globally, hundreds of thousands of South Africans are infected every year; more than 7 million live with the virus in their bodies. And in the midst of this, the largest HIV epidemic in the world, the HIV prevalence among adolescent girls is roughly five times greater than that of boys. By performing genetic analyses on samples of HIV virus in Vulindlela, researchers have concluded that the high rate of infections here—among both sexes—is driven in part by relationships like the one Mbali had when she was 17.

In a country where two-thirds of people under age 25 are unemployed, some poor South African women and teens date older, wealthier men, who provide them with everything from food to hairpieces to school uniforms. In exchange, the men demand discreet, often condom-free sex. At the same time, many of these young women maintain more egalitarian relationships with boys their own age. Some of the sugar daddies, as these men are also sometimes called, infect the girls with HIV. When those teen girls reach adulthood, they find husbands and pass their HIV onto them. Those husbands, in turn, become the next crop of sugar daddies, infecting the next generation of teen girls and perpetuating the cycle.

This cycle of contagion, researchers are finding, is driven not only by economics and culture but also by the human body’s own microbes. The reproductive tract is home to a delicate balance of bacteria, some of which appear to keep HIV and other viruses at bay. The grooming practices some South African women use to entice wealthy boyfriends might be upsetting this balance, and increasing their risk of HIV infection.

Salim Abdool Karim, the epidemiology professor who is uncovering these connections, has a gray beard and enormous voice. When he was a student, everyone called him Slim, Afrikaans for “clever,” and the name has stuck. He’s of Indian descent, which meant that, under the country’s apartheid-era racial code, he was funneled into the country’s only medical school for nonwhites at the University of Natal, now known as the University of KwaZulu-Natal, in Durban. It’s where he’s worked off and on for more than three decades, and it’s where he and his wife, the epidemiologist Quarraisha Abdool Karim, run the Center for the AIDS Program of Research in South Africa, or CAPRISA. They spend their days trying to figure out why, exactly, South Africans keep dying of a disease that much of the world has nearly forgotten.

In the early ’80s, HIV was still relatively unknown in South Africa. Salim only realized the awful extent of the disease in 1987, when he moved to New York to study public health at Columbia University. It was a terrifying time: Around half a million people in the city had the virus, which was poorly understood. A prostitute who bit a policeman and claimed she had AIDS was walked into the courtroom by officers wearing surgical masks. “You couldn’t escape HIV in New York,” Salim told me in his office one day in February. In New York, it became clear to the Abdool Karims that HIV was about to ravage southern Africa.

He and Quarraisha returned to Durban and zoomed in on a puzzling trend: While many in the United States still viewed HIV as a gay men’s disease, the South Africans with HIV were disproportionately young, heterosexual, and female. Though the disease was still relatively rare, girls were getting HIV five to seven years younger than their male counterparts. That, the Abdool Karims realized, meant young mothers would pass the infection onto their kids. A whole generation of nurses and teachers—the jobs dominated by women—might be wiped out. “Oh, my goodness,” Salim thought. “This is a tragedy on a scale that we have yet to even grapple with.”

Today, the virus kills more than 100,000 South Africans—roughly the population of Green Bay, Wisconsin—each year. While antiretroviral drugs, widely available for free in South Africa, can halt HIV’s erosion of the immune system, there are simply too many South Africans with too high a risk of getting HIV for the country to treat its way out of the problem. Everyone seems to agree: Prevention is key.

In the ’90s, the Abdool Karims began studying different substances that had the potential to prevent HIV infection, especially in women. For the most part, they were a bust: When they tested nonoxynol-9, a spermicide, in a small group of truck-stop sex workers, not only did it have no effect on infection rates, but the substance also inflamed the women’s vaginas, causing burning and itching.

Their progress improved in 2003, when they began testing a drug called tenofovir, which prevents the virus from replicating and seemed to have few side effects. In 2010, Quarraisha presented the findings of their tenofovir gel study at the International AIDS Conference in Vienna: When women applied the gel to their vaginas before and after sex, she reported, the risk of HIV infection dropped by 39 percent. For the first time, women had a way to reduce their risk of HIV infection that didn’t require their partners’ permission. It was a rare glimmer of hope in what had become a dismal field, and the conference attendees rewarded Quarraisha with a standing ovation.

The Abdool Karims were elated and proud. But still, they wondered: Why only 39 percent?

In Vulindlela, women walk alongside dirt roads with babies slung on their backs, and people still answer to the three local amakhosi, or Zulu chiefs. Older people smear red clay on their skin to protect it from the sun. Horses and cows roam the streets freely, and outhouses dot the rolling hills. Today, most people live in small, cinder-block houses, but when CAPRISA first began doing research here in 2001, many still dwelled in traditional mud huts.

In the late 1800s, in KwaZulu-Natal and several other areas, the colonial government imposed a tax on every hut “occupied by a native.” They exempted “houses of European construction” occupied by residents “conforming to civilized usage.” The tax burden forced many Zulus to work in the gold mines, some of which were hundreds of miles away. Miners usually lived in single-sex hostels for much of the year, returning to see their families only every few months. Separated from their wives, the men turned to sex workers, who became vectors of sexually transmitted diseases.

“If you want to create a society in which you wanted a sexually transmitted infection to spread,” Salim said, “you couldn’t do it better than the way in which the colonialists designed South Africa. They designed it to create family instability.”

A woman sits inside her house in Vulindlela, South Africa. (Khaya Ngwenya / The Atlantic)

Though the situation is less extreme now that apartheid has ended, itinerant labor remains common, and many men maintain multiple partners. Men who are able to get good jobs are sought after as patrons and partners by women who aren’t.

Salim and his colleagues wanted to pinpoint exactly who was getting HIV in KwaZulu-Natal, and from whom. In 2014, CAPRISA staff collected blood from the residents of nearly 10,000 households in Vulindlela. They looked at the HIV viruses inside the samples and analyzed each virus’s genes. They identified clusters in which people had passed the virus to one another.

They found that the girls in their teens and early 20s were getting infected by men who were, on average, about nine years older than they were. When they reached their late 20s, these women were infecting partners of their own age, who often didn’t realize it right away. With wandering eyes and high levels of the virus coursing through their blood, some of the men were then infecting the next crop of 16- and 17-year-old girls.

About 40 percent of the men who were passing HIV to younger women had older, female partners at the same time. I wondered aloud to Salim how a society could become so overrun by sugar daddies when the consequences—for women and men—are so severe. What he guessed was this: In many cases, the girls’ parents know about the blessers. “Many of them also support the girl’s family,” he said.

Gethwana Mahlase, a community leader in Vulindlela, told me that the poverty here used to be much worse, and the effects were often fatal. Under apartheid, the country’s rural areas had little infrastructure, and the sick had to be carried to the hospital. In the 1980s and ’90s, some women Mahlase knew had 16 children. They frequently died in childbirth from conditions like high blood pressure, which women in more affluent nations can typically survive with access to medical care.

Economic conditions have improved somewhat, but many people here and across South Africa are still sorely in need of jobs. Among the legacies of apartheid is one of the highest levels of income inequality on earth. On the beach in Durban, the largest city in KwaZulu-Natal, I saw a thin man pick a plastic bag out of a garbage can and lick off its residue—right next to a watchtower advertising the area as the Bay of Plenty. Many kids have no choice but to attend high schools where 60 students might cram into a classroom. Poor and middle-class families often don’t have the means to pay for college and can’t get loans.

“Girls here are happy to have a boyfriend from Johannesburg to take them out of poverty,” Pamela Gumbi, a scientist at the Vulindlela CAPRISA clinic, told me. In the Valley of a Thousand Hills, a community not far from Vulindlela that looks exactly like its bucolic-sounding name, high schoolers told me local girls were dating the region’s big earners: the drivers of minibus taxis.

A woman walks in the Valley of a Thousand Hills. (Khaya Ngwenya / The Atlantic)

The blesser trend shapes men’s lives, too. In a village north of Vulindlela called KwaMsane, I talked with a group of men who were hanging out by a shipping-container snack store in the middle of the day, eating sugarcane as chickens pecked at the grass nearby. A 33-year-old named Zothani bemoaned the lack of local job opportunities, suggesting that leads to some of the sexual practices researchers and policy makers are trying so desperately to change. “The more time we are not working, the more people are giving birth, giving birth,” he said.

Several young men told me that they worry girls won’t want to date them unless they are able to buy them things—a modern anxiety layered on top of the Zulu custom of lobola, in which suitors pay a bride price of several head of cattle.

Others said they don’t mind if their girlfriends have sugar daddies; they think they stand to benefit. “I’m unemployed, so if she has an extra relationship, that money supports me,” said Sanele Ndlovu, a 20-year-old construction worker in Vulindlela, who was speaking hypothetically.

Like a few other men I talked to, Ndlovu is even starting to think he should try to find a sugar mama. The women are doing it, so why not? “There’s nothing wrong with falling in love with an older woman,” he said. “She’s cute, she has no husband, so capitalize on the opportunity.”

Almost as soon as the sugar-daddy trend became widely known in South Africa, it became oversimplified in the media and in popular imagination. There’s a perception, among some here, that the women who seek out sugar daddies are vain and irresponsible. They want nice weaves—considered more fashionable than close-cropped natural hair—and clothes that will look stylish on Instagram, the thinking goes. That makes it easy to blame women for the consequences of promiscuity. “You take a decision to say, ‘I will take off my clothes’—you just can never say it was a mistake,” said the KwaZulu-Natal health minister, Sibongiseni Dhlomo, addressing a tent full of schoolkids in 2016. “Let there be no one who will say they don’t know what happened when they fall pregnant ... Therefore, it is up to you to ensure that does not happen.”

These stereotypes are reinforced by the rise of websites like BlesserFinder, which tries to connect sugar daddies with those hoping to be “blessed.” (BlesserFinder was started by a man, according to news reports.)

My conversations with women who have had transactional sex, or who know those who have, revealed a more complicated picture. For one thing, the women who have blessers aren’t very promiscuous. In CAPRISA’s Vulindlela study, most people had fewer than five sex partners in their lifetimes. The average American Baby Boomer, by comparison, has had 11.

But the sex they are having is very risky. Many of the sugar daddies refuse to wear condoms, saying they “don’t want to waste their money on plastic,” as one teenager put it to me. Women avoid disclosing their HIV statuses to their sugar daddies out of fear they’ll be cut off financially. Since many of the sugar daddies are married, young women meet them at hotels and don’t tell their parents where they are, heightening their vulnerability to violence. In Pretoria, a 15-year-old was recently found dead in a pit latrine after telling her friends she had gone to meet an older man. The suspect, a 33-year-old man, had posted on Facebook that he wanted to find a curvy woman to bless.

The idea that women who have blessers are making bad choices also presumes that there are better choices available. I met A., a pretty, dark-skinned 31-year-old, in a cold, dark exam room of a clinic in Durban. She lives in Umlazi, a large township nearby. She calls it a place for “poor people,” with too many tsotsis—criminals.

A. had a baby at 16 and dropped out of high school. She and the baby’s father broke up because he beat her, she says, pointing to scars on her arms. She now has HIV, and when her mother found out she almost made her go to an inyanga, a traditional healer. She says no one ever told her about condoms. “We are Zulus. We don’t talk about sex,” was the attitude at home, she said.

A. is unemployed. For food, cellphone minutes, and things for her daughter, she turns to a new, older man she’s dating, who she says “treats me well sometimes.” He’s married, and she feels bad when his wife calls to chew her out. “I’m dating this married guy because I get whatever I want,” she says. Meanwhile, she’s also dating a “poor guy, because he’s the love of my life.”

She’s looking for a job as a housekeeper—a profession she likes because sometimes, her employers feed her. “Other jobs you have to bring your own food,” she said, “which is not gonna happen because sometimes we have just sleeping food, and in the morning there’s no food.”

She and the older man, the blesser, don’t use condoms, and she hasn’t told him that she’s HIV positive. Mostly, she’s just hoping to start making her own money soon. “Life is not good for someone who is not employed,” she said. “You sleep, watch TV, sleep, watch TV.”

“Sometimes,” she added, “I don’t live my life.”

At this, her eyes welled up with tears. A nurse standing nearby told me to stop my line of questioning.

Up the coast from Vulindlela, closer to the border with Swaziland, there’s a poor, sleepy town called Mtubatuba. The most happening place to be is a club called the White House, a small cement building with a large outdoor patio. On a recent warm Friday night, a DJ spun Zulu dance music while groups of men and women stood around tables, drinking, dancing in place, and taking selfies.

It could have been college night anywhere on earth. The bouncer told me many girls here come with nothing and expect guys to buy them drinks all night. The girls might go home with the best-looking or most generous of their benefactors. But this, a practice familiar the world over, is not exactly “blessing.”

I approached two 25-year-olds, Nkundu Matha and Thandeka Mathamulo, to ask if women look for blessers here. No, they said, the guys are mainly locals, without blesser-level jobs. If they did meet a blesser, I wondered, how would they react if he asked them to have sex without a condom? “Nice to see you and goodbye,” Mathamulo said.

This attitude might help explain the results of a 2014 study of the area by scientists from Harvard University and the Africa Health Research Institute, who found no evidence that having an older male partner increased the risk of HIV infection.

Even though the blesser phenomenon is real, it seems its effects are uneven, and the country’s HIV epidemic is shaped by other factors, too. Some of them, researchers are finding, are hidden within the women themselves.

In 2010, when the Abdool Karims got their standing ovation in Vienna, they were nevertheless confounded by the fact that the tenofovir gel didn’t fully protect the women from HIV. They decided to investigate whether there was something about a woman’s biology that increases her risk of contracting the virus.

In 2015, CAPRISA released a study in which it measured the cytokines—proteins that serve as markers of inflammation—in the vaginas of 889 women. They found that women who had more of these cytokines, and thus more inflammation, were three times more likely to get HIV over a three-year period. But where was this inflammation coming from? To find out, they sequenced the entire vaginal microbiomes of 120 women.

About 1,300 species of bacteria naturally occur in the vagina. A healthy vagina is dominated by a “good” germ called Lactobacillus, which, under a microscope, looks like a fistful of rod-shaped Mike and Ikes. It scrubs the genital tract with a mild acid and helps keep the “bad” bacteria to a minimum.

Gynecologists, hoping to dissuade their patients from douching, sometimes liken vaginas to self-cleaning ovens. But really, they are more like gardens that—for the most part, and in most women—weed themselves. Sometimes, though, they get overrun by invasive, pernicious flora. And that is where the trouble begins.

Prevotella bivia, it turned out, was the main source of the inflammation that leads to HIV infection. Prevotella is normally found in the gut, but it can migrate into the vagina from the anus. In small numbers, it can be fine. But it can also swarm the place, usurping the Lactobacillus and other healthy bacteria like dandelions taking over a rose garden. On Prevotella’s surface are lipopolysaccharides, which break off and spark inflammation. If a woman happens to get exposed to HIV during a Prevotella inflammation, her risk of infection is much higher.

The CAPRISA scientists decided to test another “bad” bacterium, Gardnerella vaginalis, typically associated with bacterial vaginosis, to see if it had an effect on tenofovir. (Bacterial vaginosis, as many women know, can resemble a yeast infection but must be treated with antibiotics.) Salim’s colleagues added tenofovir to a culture of Gardnerella. Within four hours, about half the tenofovir was gone.

“We were doing these studies and wondering, ‘Why is tenofovir not protecting these women?’” Salim said. “It’s not protecting them because they’ve got Gardnerella, and the Gardnerella is eating up all the tenofovir!”

Today, tenofovir is an integral part of PrEP, or pre-exposure prophylaxis, a pill the South African government has made available for free to sex workers and some university students. Since the pill doesn’t travel through the genital tract, PrEP might avoid being eroded by the vaginal microbiome, but the Abdool Karims and their colleagues aren’t sure yet.

There’s plenty of other evidence, however, that maintaining a healthy, Lactobacillus-dominant vaginal microbiome protects against HIV. One meta-analysis of 23 studies from 2008 found bacterial vaginosis was associated with a 60 percent higher risk of HIV infection. Just last month, the researchers at AHRI found an extraordinarily high rate of bacterial vaginosis—42 percent—among women in the region around Mtubatuba, where HIV is also widespread.

Currently, scientists at CAPRISA and elsewhere are studying what exactly causes Prevotella and Gardnerella to take over the vagina; they have found interesting associations, but no common thread. Women with high levels of Prevotella in their vaginas are more likely to be obese, and black and Hispanic women, regardless of nationality, are more likely to experience bacterial vaginosis. European women are more likely to have Lactobacillus-dominant vaginas than African women are. (Could this be why there’s so much more HIV in Africa than in Europe? Researchers don’t know.)

Semen, too, has a microbiome, and it’s even less studied than its vaginal counterpart. But semen could be causing some of these vaginal disturbances: Semen contains lots of foreign proteins, and women’s bodies become accustomed to those in their regular partner’s semen. But if they are exposed to different proteins, say those in their sugar daddy’s semen, “your body reacts like crazy,” Salim says.

The Depo-Provera shot is the most common form of birth control among poor women here—largely because it’s convenient, and because women with unsupportive partners can hide it from them. The problem, according to the CAPRISA scientists, is that Depo contains high amounts of progestin, which tamps down the levels of estrogen in the body. Because Lactobacillus flourishes in highly estrogenic environments, Depo may open the door to Prevotella and other “bad” bacteria.

Perhaps most damaging to the vaginal microbiome are the practices women use to please their blessers—or even just especially valuable boyfriends. A desirable vagina, many women here believe, is tight and dry. It’s common for women to coax their nether regions into this state by stuffing them with various powders, ashes, and even chewing tobacco.

One study published in 2011 found that women who used “powders, creams, herbs, tablets, sticks, stones, leaves, and traditional products” to dry out or tighten their vaginas were 31 percent more likely to contract HIV. CAPRISA is now conducting a study to see if the increased risk is due to inflammation, vaginal-bacteria disturbances, or both.

Mbali N., left, who once had a blesser, walks with a friend on a path in Vulindlela. (Khaya Ngwenya / The Atlantic)

Before I left CAPRISA, I met with another of its researchers, Sinaye Ngcapu, whose colleagues call him Dr. Healthy Vagina. While Salim and Quarraisha guide all the different facets of CAPRISA’s work, Ngcapu strives to decode the vaginal microbiomes of African women. His goal is to design better HIV-prevention tools—ones that don’t melt away in microbes’ presence.

He grabbed an empty can of Coke Zero on the table to demonstrate why it’s important to understand the microbiome if you want to stop HIV. “If you were to understand how this Coca-Cola is made, you will know how to get rid of the sugar that’s inside it,” he explained.

I paused to ask Ngcapu whether his enthusiasm for the vaginal microbiome ever raises eyebrows—at least among those outside the medical community.

Ngcapu is black, young, and a member of another South African ethnic group, the Xhosa, who live mainly in the country’s south. HIV tore through Xhosa communities, too, and until very recently, apartheid kept people like Ngcapu from acquiring the skills necessary to halt that devastation. To him, this battle is personal.

“It’s scary when you hear that in certain areas, one out of three women is positive,” he said. “As a South African, you have to use South African strategies to answer South African questions. If there will be a cure, it should come here, where HIV is killing our brothers and sisters.”

https://cdn.theatlantic.com/assets/media/img/mt/2018/03/HIVGraphic_Final_01/lead_960.jpg Credits: Original Content Source

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