It's Just a Twin Thing Part-3

It's Just A Twin Thing
Part Three

by:
Enemyoffun


Jordan and his sister, Jess, are twins, some think identical
because they look so much alike. They used to fool a lot of
people when they were younger but the differences became
apparent as they got older or did they?

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Author's Note:Its that time again everyone, Monday and a new chapter. We're back to Jordan again. We get to meet one of the main characters of this tale in this chapter---Tara. She's an interesting person because of the strides she makes to get things in motion. You'll see what I mean a little bit later. There's a few other characters introduced in this chapter as well, one of which will make more appearances. The story sorta pushes ahead slowly at this point. Lingering on the first day---Friday---and the Saturday that follows for a few chapters. I might tweak it a bit because it feels like a lot going on in a two days. I'll figure it out when I get to posting the next few chapters lol. I'd like to thank ashleigh for all the editing and proof reading help, also wish her a fast recovery because she's currently in the hospital.

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3.

Jordan

Jess slamming the door was like a thunder clap.

Mom stood there staring at us for a few seconds before sighing and saying, “I have to go up there and take care of that don’t I?”

“You want me…”

‘No, it’s my job” she said with a groan then mumbled as she walked away. “Why couldn’t your father be home…”

As soon as Mom was gone, my friends broke out into laughter. I couldn’t help but smirk a bit too. Then I found myself laughing a bit too. Jess was always a bit of a drama queen. She was also used to being the center of attention. I could only imagine what went through her head when she saw Torrie. Not only that but when Torrie thought she was my twin brother, God that was priceless. Very few people were able to take Jess down a peg but Torrie did it like a master. The greatest thing about it all was that Torrie didn’t even realize she was doing it.

We didn’t sit around to wait for Mom to come back.

We had a few things to discuss so I led them to my room.

Ok, so quick rundown of things.

This house had a total of six bedrooms. The master bedroom, my bedroom, and Jess’s bedroom were all on the second floor. Then there was two spare rooms downstairs. The guest bathroom was downstairs too. The main bathroom was upstairs along with two ensuites, one connected to the master and the other connected to Jess’s room. I didn’t really care about having my own bathroom to be honest. My bedroom was bigger though because it was over the two car garage. Plus it had the little door leading to the attic. When I was ten, Dad had the attic converted into a hang out room for me and the guys.

I know what you’re thinking. I said this house had six bedrooms.

Ok, so the sixth wasn’t actually in the house.

Dad had this fascination with classic cars. So about a year or two ago, he built a detached garage to store them. He currently had two in there with his others at an offsite storage garage. When the car garage was built so too was the studio apartment above it. The apartment was where Tracy stayed when she was here during the holidays. It was a pretty epic space. It had its own bathroom and direct access to the large in-ground pool in our backyard. Jess had been extremely pissed when the folks built the place for Tracy. My sister was at that teenage girl phase of her life where she wanted her total independence. She tried convincing Dad to let her live out there when Tracy wasn’t but Dad didn’t go for it. He said and I quote, “there is no way that I’m letting my teen daughter live alone and away from adult supervision”. I think it was the first and only time Dad ever told her no.

Jess liked to call me a Momma’s Boy.

Well, she was definitely a Daddy’s Girl.

“You know,” said Steve as we walked into my room. “If your sister would just pull that stick out of her ass, she might be hot”

Craig and I rolled our eyes.

“How long have you been crushing on her again?” asked Craig, dropping himself into my computer chair.

Steve flushed a few different shades of red.

Craig and I had a laugh at his expense.

Steve got Craig back a second later, though. “Well at least the girl I’m crushing on is real!”

“Fuck off” snapped Craig, throwing one of my magazine’s at him. “She is real!”

This time Steve and I laughed at Craig.

That’s when the two of them started in on their “No she isn’t” and “Yes she is” back and forth argument. Seriously, you’d think we were all still in elementary school. I let them argue. I took my laptop off the computer desk and plopped down on my bed. Logging in, I checked my email. Most of it was crap. There were a few things of interest, though. I was on a mailing list for the local bookstore, telling me when new manga came in. I was also a member of this site that sold and traded guitars. I got an email from both, the bookstore one was promising, the guitar one not so much. The most promising email though was from Tara.

Tara was coming home. She’d be here until after Halloween.

Which was epic.

Tara was the missing member of our motley little crew. Up until last year, that is. Unlike me, she never stopped the whole singing thing. Mom knew the kind of talent she had and didn’t let up until Tara agreed to sign with her. Mom wasn’t one to sign country singers but Tara had one of those voices that could not only fit country but other songs as well. Tara topped the charts with her first solo, “Love Me”. A CD quickly followed and it didn’t take long for her to go on tour. She’s been on tour for the last two months or so. The tour it seemed was now over and she just got back home last night.

“Tara’s home,” I said excitedly.

“Oh yippy!” said Craig, sarcastically, clapping his hands like a moron.

Neither Steve nor Craig seemed to get along with her very well. I mean we all used to be as thick as thieves but after Tara made it big, well they got a bit jealous. Not that they’d admit it of course. I think they were just a little bit annoyed that Mom didn’t see much potential in us as a band. Don’t get me wrong, we were pretty smashing. But without a singer, we were just a sound. Mom tried to get us some paying studio gigs, laying background music, that kind of thing. The guys didn’t want it, though. They wanted the whole package deal. Like me, they tried to talk Tara into singing with us but it wasn’t really her thing.

So lots of resentment toward her.

A moment later, I got a text.

HEY JACY, DITCH THE ENTOURAGE AND COME HANG WITH ME.

It was from her.

And yes, she really calls me Jacy.

It originally started as a joke. My older sister and I have always been really close. Well everyone in my family already calls me “J.C.” of course. Tara just took things one step further. She used to call us “Tracy and Jacy”. Just for laughs of course. Tracy thought it was funny, me not so much. Well regardless of what I thought, the name seemed to stick with Tara.

I texted her back quickly.

SURE, JUST GIVE ME A FEW, T-BONE :P.

My T-Bone nickname for her, well that was just to piss her off.

“Hey guys,” I said, after sending the text. “Go away now”

Steve and Craig groaned.

“Let me guess, Little Miss Country Music Princess has beckoned you?”

“Man you’re so whipped!”

All three of us laughed.

“Seriously, though, leave now”

They rolled their eyes and groaned. I followed them down the hall and down the stairs. When we got to the living room, Jess was moping on the couch. She glared at all three of us but we, of course, ignored her. It’s not our fault that Torrie owned her. She’d get over it. I walked them to the door and practically pushed them out of it. They knew I was only joking around with them though because they laughed when I did it. As soon as they were gone, I turned and made a beeline for the stairs then stopped to talk to Jess.

“Hey Tara and I are going out, wanna come along?”

Ok, so I was being nice.

She gave me this look.

“Hmmm, Mets game or third wheel?” she said, making a mock scale with her two hands. “Yeah, I’m not going to watch you crash and burn all night”

“Instead, you’re gonna watch the Mets do that,” I said with a laugh.

She threw one of the throw pillows at me.

I laughed as I dodged it and ran up the stairs.

@@@@@@@@@

Dad was coming in as I was going out. I nearly collided with him going out the door.

“What’s the rush, sport?”

God, I hated that. Dad always called me stupid names like that. “Sport”, “Buddy”, Champ”. Gag me with a spoon. Not that I didn’t love my father or anything, I did. He was a great father. Better than Steve’s dad that’s for sure. Dad always went out of his way to make sure we had our own space but at the same time was there if we needed him. It’s just, well, he was a baseball player, and he had this way about him. He was the kind of father who wanted his son to follow in his footsteps, you know the “ole chip off the old block”.

That was never me. Dad tried but he knew it wasn’t either.

I think it hurt the hell out of him too.

To be fair, though, he was trying to be the best father he could be. My grandfather wasn’t much of one and Dad’s grandpa, well he wasn’t really around much either. Dad was practically raised by his uncle. Uncle Ben was the best but he was that kind of guy---my Dad’s kind of guy.

“Tara’s home,” I said in a rush. “I’m gonna go hang out with her a bit”

Dad gave me a look. It was the look.

Mom knew we were just friends. But to Dad, a boy and girl couldn’t just be friends.

“Does your mother know?”

I nodded. “I asked, she told me to be home before ten”

“Ok then, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he said with a chuckle.

I rolled my eyes as I headed out the door.

When Jess and I turned sixteen a few months ago, Dad had already bought us a car. I said a car because he only bought one. Jess and I were meant to share it. It was a metallic blue 2016 Ford Focus. It was ok if you liked that kind of thing. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the kind of thing we were hoping for, though. Dad knew that too but he also knew that there was no way he could afford my sister’s corvette or my mustang. Well, he could but he refused too. He also only got us the one car because he wanted us to work on our sharing skills. Everything was a lesson to Dad. If we wanted our fancy cars, we were to go out and get jobs and get them ourselves.

So Jess and I came up with a system. Well, one that fell into the rules that my father already laid out. She and I rotated the car on weekends. If however one of us got a job then the one with the job got priority. If both of us got a job---unlikely because Jess is a lazy slob---we were to alternate usage like on the weekends then give the other a ride to and from work. Those were the rules of sharing. The rules of the car itself were a little tighter. Neither one of us could drive it after eight at night, we weren’t allowed to let others drive it and we couldn’t drive it to school. Dad’s nurse Brenda was married to a police officer and the stories he could tell about stupid kids and their cars, especially related to school.

I pulled out my cell, texting Tara to tell her I was on my way.

Oh yeah, big rule: no cells while driving.

That one, of course, was a no-brainer.

She sent me a reply, asking to pick her up, shooting me the address.

Yes, I know where my best friend lives but as of a year ago, it used to be a trailer park.

Tara and her Mom were from Kentucky. She moved up here when she was eight, after a really messy divorce. Her mom was a beautician. Up until a year ago, she made ends meet at a little salon on Main Street. Then Tara got her recording contract. Now Tara’s mother owns the place. I did say Tara was a pretty famous country singer right? In fact, she was nominated for several Best New Artist awards. She hit it big. With the money she started to make, she was able to move her mother out of the trailer and into a nice three bedroom house a couple of blocks from my own. Not quite Pine Crest Acres but still pretty nice.

It only took me about five minutes to get to Tara’s.

Tara was sitting on the porch swing waiting as I pulled up.

There was a look of confusion on her face before she recognized me.

I had one seeing her too.

Sure I’d been seeing her for the last year or so but seeing and believing were two different things. The girl coming toward my car was not the same one that I grew up with. Sure she was the same of course but she looked completely different. When Tara left home, she was a slightly overweight girl with glasses and muddy brown hair. The girl walking toward the car was none of these things. Sublime Records---her label---had done a complete makeover on her. First gone were the glasses and brown hair, in their place sparkling green eyes and long flowing auburn locks. She’d lost a great deal of weight too, maybe thirty pounds or more. She’d clearly had a fashion consultant as well because the skinny jeans, cowboy boots and tank top was not her usual style.

It was definitely a nice change.

It was a recent one too.

Of course, I’d been watching her interviews on TV and she did have a music video but the Tara in those was not the Tara I saw before me. I couldn’t help but smile at the Tara that I was seeing now. She was practically glowing, the confidence oozing off of her. This was the friend that I always knew was hiding inside of her.

“Look at the shiny wheels,” she said, a hint of her Kentucky twang coming through.

When Tara moved here her accent was pretty thick. The kids used to harass her nonstop over it. As time went on, though, the accent started to fade away. By the time we got into middle school it was all but gone. Sure growing up here for the last several years helped but Tara always told me she could turn it on and off at will. I mean her mother never lost her accent after all. Apparently being a country star now meant that the accent was back.

“Look at the Shiny Tara,” I said as she climbed inside.

She gave me a big hug.

“Forget about me, look at you,” she said, running her fingers through my hair. “Still silky smooth like I remember. You haven’t cut it either”

I blushed. Tara always loved my hair. She once told me it was my best feature. We spent many a day in her room, her brushing it and styling it in a bunch of different ways. She didn’t really have any girl friends growing up. Most of the girls didn’t want to associate with the hefty country girl. So I tried my hardest to be the best boy and girl friend that she could have. I’m not ashamed to say that I let her braid my hair often nor that I’d worn makeup many times. It’s just the kind of friendship we used to have.

“So where too?”

“I thought maybe we’d pop into Leo’s for a bite then grab a movie or something if you want?”

I nodded. “As long as we can get it done before eight. Dad doesn’t like me driving beyond that”

Tara looked at her watch. It was going on five now.

“Well, maybe just Leo’s then?”

Leo’s was the local teen hangout. It had the best pizza in the world as far as I was concerned. It helped that the owner loved Tara. She was the only thing he talked about. In fact, there was one wall of the restaurant devoted to her. It was kinda surreal actually. Leo seemed to collect every scrap of paper and every article that she was mentioned in. I called it Tara’s Wall of Shame. She and I often had a few good laughs about it on Skype. This would be the first time she was gonna see it in person though so I think she was kinda excited.

“So,” I said as we drove. “How goes the whole country singer thing?”

“Eh,” she said, shrugging it off. “It's just a hobby”

We laughed.

“So how goes your music?”

“Mom found us a singer!” I said rather excitedly. “She’s really good, has this Avril sound thing going on”

“That’s great” she said just as excitedly. “I’d hug you but I don’t want us to do a Paul Walker or something”

Harsh but true. That was Tara’s sense of humor by the way. She didn’t mean anything by it. She was always a bit on the morbid side, though. In another life, I knew she could have been one of those morbid, “life is worthless” emo kids.

Tara’s humor masked other things though too. I knew her well enough to know what she was really thinking. Like my mother, she’d been pissed I quit singing. Singing used to be my life after all. It was definitely Tara’s. The two of us used to spend hours in her bedroom singing along to Taylor, Katy, and a few others. It used to consume us. Things change, though. When I just up and quit, Tara actually cried. We had a huge fight over it and she told me she was never going to talk to me again. Well the “not talking to me” lasted for about a week. She came back---crying again---and apologized. She still told me I was being an idiot but I was her best friend and she’d support my decision.

That’s when I started pushing her, though.

Tara’s singing career actually started when we were fourteen.

With pressure from both Mom and I, we got her to sing in this little talent contest the school was putting on. When Mom saw the reaction people had, she knew the potential. She signed Tara and got the ball rolling. Last year, Mom made some arrangements with Sublime records, Tara’s current label. Sublime handled more country acts, something Mom wasn’t really keen on. She loved Tara but also knew there was nothing more she could do for her. Tara signed a one-year contract with Sublime. They put her on the fast track. It didn’t take long for her to record her first single and hit the airwaves. In a week, Tara took the nation by storm.In the months that followed, she filmed her first video, did another single, a CD then hit the road on tour. The tour had finished its first leg a few nights ago.

“So what’s next then?” I asked as we pulled onto Main Street.

She shrugged. “I don’t have to be back in the studio until December. The tour doesn’t pick back up until March. The label has me doing some CD signings and things, you know the promotional crap but I made it clear that I wanted to spend my off time here”

“So school?”

“You betcha,” she said with glee. “No more tutors for a bit. I can’t wait”

‘You might want to drop the twang” I said, playfully mocking her accent.

She gave me a fake look of disgust. “Whatever do you mean, Rhett?”

Her Scarlett was spot on.

We both laughed.

We pulled up to the pizza place to find it packed as usual. We also found a large bus with her face on it parked outside. I gave her a look, she laughed.

“The band is still in town for a few,” she said “I guess they took me up on my offer of free food”

When I pulled up alongside it, I noticed a few photogs hanging about as well. Tara groaned, clearly noticing them as well. We both knew this was going to happen. She and I discussed it a great deal before she left actually. We both had pretty much the same opinion on the matter---we hated them. Tara though didn’t want to be one of those celebs. You know the kind of who punches them in the face or throws her cell at them. So we did a bunch of mock scenarios, me playing the paparazzi and her well herself. In the end, we decided it would be best if she was nice to them. You know stop to take a few photos, laugh at their jokes, become friends with them.

From what I could tell it seemed to work too.

The press was very kind to her.

So were they apparently.

As soon as we got out of the car, they were on us. They were really polite about it, though, surprisingly. They snapped a few pictures but didn’t push.

“Who’s your cute friend?” one of them asked, taking a few pics of both of us.

“This is my BFF, J.C,” she said, throwing her arms around me. “My best buddy in the whole wide world”

“Give us a big smile sweetheart,” one of them said, sticking the lens of his camera a little too close for comfort.

I tried to oblige him as best as I could.

I was a little annoyed at the “sweetheart” thing, though. Clearly like several other morons, this guy thought I was a girl.

They took a few more pics. Tara knew them all by name and seemed to know about them as well. She asked about their families, their friends. She even posed a bit for them. It was all really cool. Then she asked them to respect her privacy which they did and we went into the restaurant. True to their word, I watched as they got back into their cars and started to drive off.

Wow.

As soon as we walked into Leo’s, all eyes were on us.

I wanted to crawl into a hole.

Tara was, of course, used to it, I was not.

“Hello Dover Creek!’ she shouted, we caused a lot of people to laugh.

As soon as the initial shock was over, though, everyone went back to their food. Someone like Tara wasn’t that big of a draw around here. Partially because she was just Tara here but mostly because half the kids in here were worth more than both of us combined. That’s the perks of living in a town where one of the most prestigious private schools in the country was just down the street a ways. Looking around the crowded place, I saw some kids who had more than six figures to their name. You got used to it growing up here. Usually, there was a lot of contention between them and us but not in Leo’s.

He wouldn’t allow it.

His number one rule was “leave the attitude at the door or your face is on the floor”

Tara pointed to one of the larger booths in the corner.

I noticed it was already well occupied.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me over, waving as she did so.

“Guys this is J.C.,” she said as she made intros. “J.C., the guys”

The guys in question were actually a mixture of guys and girls. Six altogether. I was surprised so many of them fit in the booth. The girls---Angie, Cara, and Trix---were Tara’s backup singers. Angie was a brunette, Cara a blonde and Trix was Asian. Her dark hair streaked with purple. She looked like she could be fun. The guys were her band. Terry was the bassist, Mark was on drums and Chuck was the lead guitarist. I sized them up. They looked like a good bunch. Not all that different from me and my crew though a little less punk and more wholesome. I locked eyes with Chuck, sizing him up. Tall, dark haired and chiseled. He had that Clark Kent from Smallville look about him. Very homegrown and American. I felt a pang of jealousy looking at him, to be honest. Guys like him rubbed me the wrong way because they reminded me of what I lacked.

Chuck stared at me too I noticed.

They made room for us to sit.

Tara pushed in over with the girls, Chuck slid over as much as he could to make space for me. It bothered me that the small space he made was enough for me to sit.

I hated being so short and small. Ok so five seven wasn’t short by any means but when your father was six three and most of the guys around you were six feet or over, you start to get a complex. Chuck had to be at least that or more.

Leo came over a moment later. Though Italian, Leo was about as American as they came. In his forties and barrel-chested, he was the nicest guy around. He liked to ham up the Italian for his customers, though, putting on a big phony accent and all that. He marketed this place as an authentic Italian eatery, there were Italians flags and knickknacks all over the place. The seat cushions and curtains were red, green and white and on the walls were several framed photos of various places in Italy. Behind the counter, he had framed photos of family and friends.
Then there was the Tara wall, his pride, and joy.

‘My beautiful Principessa” he said, hamming it up for her friends.

He winked at her which all of them noticed but didn’t seem to care.

“Leo,” she said, standing up and giving him a big hug which of course the big man graciously returned.

They started talking to one another in Italian. This was a new one to me. Tara used to work here part time to make ends meet. To help her Mom and things. It’s one of the reasons that he had the wall devoted to her in the first place actually. That’s the kind of guy Leo was. I never knew she knew Italian though.

Tara sat down laughing a moment later.

“Can you get us a couple of larges?” she said, in English this time.

He nodded and left.

I gave her a look.

“I had some free time on my hands, thought I’d learn the language” she shrugged it all off like it was no big deal.

We all laughed.

Me, only because it felt like I should.

The others laughed because it seemed to fit.

These were her new friends, the ones she’d been spending most of the year with. At first, you could have called me jealous. Tara was my friend and I was up until last year, pretty much her only one. Now there were these others and plenty more too. I’d seen the news, the tabloids and of course facebook. Tara had this whole other life now. She had friends and she went places and did things. She did it all without me too. I hated all of it. I was happy for her of course but it felt like we were drifting apart too. Sure we talked almost every night but she had changed so much too.

Even now as she laughed with these people---sharing in jokes and funny stories---I couldn’t help but feel a tad left out.

“You’re not like her,” said a voice and I realized Chuck was talking to me.

‘What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Tara is so outspoken, confident and a people person, you’re…”

I interrupted him. “She wasn’t always like that. She was a lot like me once. People change”

‘I’m not saying it’s a bad thing” he said with a smile. “It's nice actually. You being the way you are I mean. It’s refreshing. Most people in my line of work, they’re different”

I didn’t like where this conversation was going. I already didn’t like the way he was looking at me. It creeped me out. I needed to change the subject and fast.

“So what kind of guitar do you play?”

It was the right change of topic. Chuck it seemed liked to talk about guitars. I think I surprised him though when I not only knew what he was talking about but started talking about mine as well. I didn’t feel so left out anymore. We talked for quite a while about them actually. We talked through the arrival of pizza and in the eating of said pizza. Chuck was a pretty cool guy when he wasn’t trying to put the moves on me. He knew the things I was talking about too. It was kind of nice to talk mano y mano with another guitar player. Craig knew guitars too but our conversations always turned into how the bass guitar was better. Chuck just talked.

It was pretty cool.

“Sorry are you a singer too?’

“No,” I said, brushing some of my hair behind my ear.

“Bull shit,” said Tara.

I didn’t even realize she’d been listening.

“Ok so maybe I was once but only a little”

“You little liar,” said Tara with a laugh. “J.C. is a bitching singer. That’s how we met actually. In a music lesson. Jay rocks it."

I blushed.

Leo chose that time to return with the check and the discussion was thankfully dropped.

Tara insisted on paying for everything. None of us complained. Then she surprised Leo by insisting on paying for the food of everyone in the place. She told him to keep it a secret and just tell people that food was on the house. It was pretty awesome and generous of her. Even more so because half the people in here were our classmates and most of them used to hate her. The feeling was mutual from her end too. Tara though was that kind of person.

As soon as she finished paying, we called it a night.

It was going on seven thirty now. I was pretty shocked because I didn’t realize we’d been here for almost three hours.

Time flies I guess.

“How long are you guys staying in town for?” asked Tara as we were saying goodbye to Chuck and company.

“A few days maybe. Why?” asked Angie.

“Well, there’s this cool little teen club here in town. Tomorrow night they do this thing, I was wondering if you guys wanted to meet us there?”

The girls were game. So was Chuck. The other guys not so much.

They were overruled, though.

I was a little overruled myself actually. The club was called The Grasshopper. It was fairly new. It was made for the St. Andrew kids, though. Sure townies went there but the place was geared toward a richer clientele. Because it was a teen club though they weren’t allowed to serve alcohol so that was a plus I suppose. Tara it seemed was keen on going. It was built while she was away and she’d been dying to check it out. She wanted to make a big night of it too. She’d already called my cousin Cherry. Cherry and her roommate Dee were game. So were a few of her school friends.

I was being dragged along because reasons I guess.

“I’m sorry,” she said when we were halfway to her house.

“About what?”

“You were uncomfortable. I just wanted everyone to meet. I talk about you a lot and well, I wanted them to meet this awesome amazing person who I’ve known for all my life”

“I had fun,” I said and sorta meant it.

“No you didn’t,” she said with a laugh.

Ok, she had me there.

‘It was different. I’m not used to all that many people”

She nodded. We drove the rest of the way to her house in silence. She was thinking about something, I could tell. I could see it on her face. I knew her well enough to know when something was on her mind.

She didn’t open her mouth again until we were in front of her house.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” she asked, playing the friend.

She always could tell when something was bothering me.

“It's nothing”

“You’re lying,” she said, I nodded. “We’ve known each other for a while now. I know when you’re not telling me everything but I’m not going to pry. We don’t have that kind of relationship”

She wasn’t the prying friend. I respected and loved that about her too.

She was concerned for me, though. I loved that about her as well.

“It's nothing big, just something I’m dealing with”

She nodded and we hugged. I said good night. We made arrangements to meet for lunch before hanging out later tomorrow night. I stayed out in front of the house until she was safely inside. Then I drove the rest of the way home. I got there just in time too. Dad was sitting on the couch, waiting. He smiled when I walked through the front door. I dropped my keys on the table next to the door and retired to my room. I had some homework I wanted to get out of the way. I would have done it tomorrow but seeing as Tara was preoccupying my Saturday with her crazy plans, tonight was as good as any to do it.

Before starting, though, I made sure to lock my door.

With it locked, I took off my coat and stripped off my shirt. The itching had been driving me crazy all night. I turned to the mirror, naked down to my waist. Hanging on my chest, for the whole world not to see, were my two foreign bodies.

My breasts.

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF



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