Bad Choices

[pink_silk_glove]

She was supposed to smoke out the side staff door but at that time of the afternoon the sun was shining straight down into the alley so she had lit up with her back to the wall under the front awning at the corner of the building. Feeling the heat of the ember burning down close to her fingers, she took another long drag, almost done. Then she tisked the chips in her black nail polish. She'd have to repaint them soon. She checked her phone. According to the time, her break had officially ended a minute ago, yet she wasn't ready to return to the cashier station and she was pretty sure that no one was keeping track. The job was only twenty hours a week but it was sucking the life out of her. Still, the assistance check alone wasn't enough. There was a message. It was from Corey.

Hurry up when will u b here

Blowing a plume of smoke in disgust, she shook her head. Her boyfriend knew that she was working and knew what her schedule was. He was being an idiot. She replied.

Same as usual. Do u have the money?

The smoke wasn't very good but it was a smoke, the cheapest brand. Her feet were sweating, feeling swollen in her canvas runners from standing all day. As she ashed to the sidewalk she noticed a run in the right knee of her black tights and cursed. It was her favorite pair with the narrow strip of lace up each side, and they were great for work since the manager wagged a finger at her a couple of weeks back for her skirt revealing too much leg. It had been this very skirt, draped over the flare of her hips to just above the knee, in red plaid and strapped at the waist by her studded belt, the buckle fastened at the hip just to be cool. Bracelets stacked on her right arm and jingled as she lifted what was left of the cigarette to her lips and inhaled. Her left arm she kept bare for the ease of booping items under the scanner all day.

A uniform walked past her on the sidewalk. It spooked her at first because she thought it was a cop, but he turned out to be a paramedic. She didn't care for cops. She didn't care for uniforms, especially her own - a butt ugly green shirt with short sleeves and a terribly uncool polo neck. The name tag pinned to her left breast read 'DOLLAR TREE' and then beneath it in thick black letters 'LAUREN'. The name was a fake to keep the creeps from gleaning any 411. Often she would wear an open black hoodie over it all, but as June had arrived, the weather was just too warm for that and the store lacked air conditioning. Stretching out her fingers, the smoke was pretty much down to the filter as the grey wisp waved and coiled in the still air past the little tattoo on the back of her palm, a dove of peace, wings spread in flight and with an olive branch in its beak. On the inside of her forearm, just below the elbow was the outline of two small footprints filled in powder pink with the date 9/19/19 beneath. It reminded her that she'd be seeing her daughter soon. It was 2:30. In just another hour and a half she'd be out the door to her sister's to pick up her baby.

Sucking back the last of her cancer stick, she crushed it out against the masonry, flicked the butt into the gutter and pushed away from the wall to return to her shift. As she passed through the side staff door she lifted her cheap black shades to sit atop her head with the scarlet red plastic barrette that pinned up the sweep of her collar length hair which was dyed black with a bright blue streak down past her left ear. Squinting, she let her light brown eyes adjust to the indoor light. Her pale complexion told of someone who was averse to bright sunlight. A small silver hoop adorned her left brow and a smaller stud nestled in the side of her nose while two pearls teardropped from her ears with two more studs placed above the right one.

"I need you to do a return," said old round Dominga in her choppy Filipino accent. Her crusty looking bob haircut was badly-dyed. The young girl's shoulders slumped when the senior clerk instructed her. She hated doing returns. They were so tedious and the people bringing back the stuff were always so petty and often rude, cheaper than the crap that they were returning.

"All right," she huffed. "I'll see you on four," she pointed and strode over. A portly mealy-mouthed elderly fellow in a crisp cabana shirt waddled over and placed some sort of USB cable, crammed back into its torn packaging, on the cash counter.

"It doesn't work," he said sourly. She was supposed to ask what was wrong with it but she didn't care.

"Fine, where's the receipt?" she asked.

"I got it right here," he mumbled as he fished into his pocket for his wallet and dug inside for the tiny slip to hand over. It was the only item purchased so that was easy enough, but there was an issue with the date.

"This is from February," she noted, her voice hanging at the end of her sentence.

"I bought it here," he stated resolutely. Indeed, the address and store number was correct.

"Electronics can only be returned within thirty days," she informed him.

"It doesn't work and I want my money back," he insisted. She looked down at the little cable all scrunched up. It was not resellable. Maybe he just didn't plug it in right. It may not have even been the original. People scammed that way sometimes. Her mind writhed and seethed to tell him off 'It's a fucking dollar, bitch!' but she bit her tongue.

"All right, whatever," she rolled her eyes and picked up a pen to initial and date the receipt. Then she punched the code into the till to print off a return slip and stapled it to the original, waved open a small bag and dropped the paperwork into it with the goods to stuff under the counter. Then she counted out his dollar-plus-tax, slid the register shut with a clang and handed the old cheapskate his coins dismissively. If the supervisor got pissy about a four month old return they could fire her. "Have a nice day," she said, then turned her back to him and waved to the other lines. "I'll help you over here."

The first up was a little old Chinese lady with a couple of potholders, a whole bunch of candles and a tin of pineapple tidbits. She greeted the customer with a smile that seemed to warm the subtle taper of her Mediterranean jaw and high cheekbones and the old lady bowed profusely several times before and during placing her wares on the counter. She ran the potholders through the scanner and then counted up the candle packs as she bagged them, then booped the last one and timesed it by eleven (such an odd number to buy - perhaps that was all that were left on the shelf). Then she scanned the pineapple, tore off the receipt and passed it to the old lady bowing again with false teeth in her shrivelled face to convey her gratitude in the absence of English while she counted out change from her purse.

"Thank you very much," she said brightly as she handed her the bag. "Have a good one." If only all the customers would be like that, the day would move a lot easier.

 

[LancerCrownCT]

The open windows felt great with the warm fragrant breeze seemingly blowing away the stress of the day. The smell of the salt water filled the nose as they drove over the Casco Bay Bridge. The rushing wind was such a nice sound in contrast to the roaring siren of the ambulance. So far, he and his partner had been on three calls, one of which involved a kid. The little ‘paperwork’ break they planned at their spot at the Portland Headlight was just what they both needed to decompress from what had already been a hectic day.

The first call came in just after arriving for work this morning. A woman had a grease fire in the kitchen while cooking breakfast. She tried to put out the fire with water which only splattered the burning oils all over her arm causing second degree burns. Her seven year old son was proud to have called 911 like he had learned in cub scouts. After treating her burns, she left her son with a neighbor, and asked to be brought to Northern Light Mercy Hospital on State Street.

They had barely finished all of the paperwork before the second call came in. Normally calls go out to an ambulance within a small radius but all of the other ambulances were busy. They were dispatched to Old Orchard Beach because a young 10 year old girl had nearly drowned. She was out swimming far from her friends when a rip current pulled her farther out and dragged her underwater. Luckily, there were lifeguards on duty who jumped into action and rescued her. However, she had swallowed a lot of water. They could clearly hear the water in her lungs through their stethoscope. They rushed the young girl and her mother to Barbara Bush Children’s Hospital with the father following in the family minivan.

Then, just after lunch, They got the call for an overweight and balding businessman in his mid 50’s who was experiencing shortness of breath and extreme chest pain. It was next to impossible to hide their frustration when they arrived to find him still chewing his pastrami on rye from Goose Hollow Inn. After checking his vitals, the ECG confirmed ventricular infarction and they rushed him to Maine Medical Center because their heart attack protocols are the best in the city. After completing the paperwork, things were looking up as they were looking forward to a well deserved break.

“Why are we turning here, Sarah?” he said.

“Well, before we go do ‘paperwork’, you are going into Dollar Tree to grab some drinks and snacks.” Sarah playfully demanded.

Pulling the ambulance up along the side of the building, he jumped out. “This needs to be quick,” he thought. This snack stop was cutting into their ‘paperwork’ time.

“And Davey,” Sarah shouted from the ambulance, “Grab some Atomic Fireballs!”

David chuckled. Any time Sarah asked for something special, it usually meant she had an idea for a fun game they could play. “Yeah, this pit stop had better be REAL quick,” he thought.

Still chuckling about Sarah’s last minute request, he barely noticed the Dollar Tree employee smoking outside the store until his lungs filled with second hand smoke making him cough. David had quit smoking two years ago after developing the nasty habit while stationed at Bagram Air Base in Afghanistan as part of the US Army’s 10th Mountain Division. David quickly pushed those memories aside and took some deep breaths as he walked through the snack aisles. Once he had found drinks, chips, and some generic brand cinnamon fireballs, David jumped in line behind a little old chinese lady.

David enjoyed watching the interplay between the customer, a small woman with weathered and wrinkled skin and the young cashier. The chinese woman clearly didn’t speak English and continually bowed and smiled with a mouth full of false teeth. The cashier did her best to smile at the older woman but it was a smile that did not reach her eyes. Between the tattoos, piercings, dyed hair, and chipped black nail polish, she looked like someone who did not smile all that often.

When it was David’s turn at the register, he walked up and pushed his credit card into the device just after the first item beeped. The cashier did not seem to be interested in idle chit chat. Watching her bag the snacks, David noticed the tattoo on her right hand. A dove with an olive branch in its beak. The image shook David for the second time in only a few minutes. The last time he saw that image was in June 2013. It had been on the arm of a member of the Army Chaplain Regimental Corps as he performed last rights for David’s best friend who had been killed in a Taliban mortar attack. Feeling the walls closing in, David grabbed his card and grocery bag and ran for the door without a word to the cashier.

Once outside, David took deep breaths and tried to slow his racing pulse. David slowly walked to the side of the building where Sarah had parked. The fresh air helped David with his PTSD almost as well as his prescription for edible pot. By the time he reached the ambulance he was feeling well enough to play it off for Sarah.

Making their way down Shore Road, Sarah pulled the ambulance into Fort Williams Park passing the historic Hobart, Sullivan, and DeHart Battery and turned right, backing the ambulance into our spot hidden in the trees near Timberlake Arena. In all of their time, doing ‘paperwork’ here they had never had an unexpected visitor.

Sarah cut the engine and turned to David saying, “Alright, I have a little game for us to play today. You run into the woods and go take a leak. I’ll meet you in the back in a few minutes.”

David hopped out of the ambulance and walked a ways into the pine grove to relieve himself. His mind drifted to the first time Sarah had parked here. It was under the thinly veiled guise of organizing the back of the ambulance. The enclosed space meant their bodies touched each time they tried to get past each other. Finally, Sarah grabbed him and threw him on the stretcher. It was the frantic coupling of two people whose sexual frustration had boiled over. For the past year, Sarah would plan a visit about once a week. However, they had no relationship outside of work.

The pine needles tickled his hips as he gave his penis a little shake. His thoughts had excited him and he considered letting his erection lead the way back to the ambulance but forced it back under his boxer briefs. Following the path through the pines, David made his way back to the ambulance. By the time he placed his hand on the door handle, his heart was racing and his cock had grown considerably under his constricting uniform.

Opening the door to the back of the ambulance exposed Sarah’s naked body to his wandering eyes. While he was gone, she had strapped her torso to the Stryker ambulance stretcher. The straps ran above and below her generous breasts and her legs were spread to the sides exposing her dripping pussy to his gaze.

“You took so long, I had to start without you,” Sarah said as she slowly rubbed her middle finger through her fleshy outer lips. “Now get in here. I have a fun treat for today.”

David jumped into the back of the Ambulance closing the doors on his way. He began undressing while Sarah explained, “I used those cinnamon fireballs and rubbed them on my body in five places. You can find those five spots with your sense of smell. Once you find a spot, you can lick the candy from my skin. If you find all five in less than 10 minutes, I will happily let you empty your balls down my throat. If you don’t, you will eat me until I cover your face in my cum. What do you say?”

“Challenge Accepted!” David said with a big smile.

Starting at her metallic red painted toe nails, David kissed his way up to Sarah’s left calf while massaging her athletic muscles with both hands. She jumped when he hit the underside of her knee causing her to jerk her calf towards her thigh. Only smelling the floral scent of Sarah’s body wash and the familiar scent of her womanhood, he moved to do the same on her right leg.

Making his way up Sarah’s leg he immediately smelled cinnamon. Moving higher and higher he discovered it’s source and gently licked along the cleft that was formed between her calf and thigh. Probing between the folded skin he used his tongue to lick away the cinnamony sweet residue.

His tongue elicited a soft moan from Sarah, as she said, “Mmm … that’s one. Don’t get stuck on one spot though. You're on the clock, Mister.”

Switching gears, David climbed on top of the stretcher and planted his lips over Sarah’s mouth. Their kiss was driven by lust as her cinnamony tongue pushed what remained of the cinnamon ball into David’s mouth.

“That’s two,” she said between kisses.

David’s kisses drifted down her jaw and across her exposed neck. A light nibble across her jugular caused Sarah’s breathing to catch in her chest. He continued down across her right shoulder. Switching directions he kissed along the bottom of her neck to her left shoulder and knew he had found what he was looking for. Licking along the depression between her shoulder blade and clavicle he was rewarded with the sweet taste of cinnamon.

Giggling, Sarah said, “That’s Three, but you only have a couple minutes left.”

Continuing down, David kissed along the top of Sarah’s chest and around the underside of her breast before wrapping his lips around her stiff pink nipple. Sucking a little harder brought an excited gasp. Gently pulling on the nipple brought groans of pleasure as Sarah said, “Nothing there, but since you aren't using your tongue, I’ll forgive you.”

David slowly worked his way to the cleft between her breasts and planted a stronger kiss before continuing to her right breast. There he gave the same treatment until he discovered for the fourth time the sweet smell of cinnamon. Pointing his tongue, David drew the tip along the underside of Sarah’s right breast bringing a deep groan from her mouth saying, “Yes! That’s four. There’s one more and you only have a minute.” Opening his mouth wider David sucked more of her breast into his mouth and licked away all of the cinnamon candy.

Trailing kisses along her defined abs, David made a pit stop at Sarah’s navel giving it a wet kiss before gently blowing on the damp skin. This made Sarah squirm saying, “Oh God!”. Interlacing their fingers, David made a slow descent to where he knew all along the final prize would be. Kissing along her trimmed red pubic hair and around the shaved flesh of her mound. All the attention had her engorged outer lips spread like a pink flower, dripping and begging for attention. The smell, a combination of her musky scent and cinnamon, sweet cinnamon!

Flattening his tongue, David licked from Sarah’s puckered rosebud and through her glistening lips flicking along the tip of her clit. She instantly flexed her abdomin and groaned in excitement saying, “Mmm, right there!”
With Sarah’s encouragement, David continued to push his tongue deeper into her sweet hole building her closer and closer to climax. Once the sticky candy was licked away, David slid two fingers into her dripping slit. Pistoning his hand deeper and deeper and curving his fingers along the bumpy pad of her G spot, Sarah began to squirm signalling her impending peak. David latched his lips around her hardened clit and began circling it with his tongue. Sarah instantly thrust her hips as high as the restraints would allow as her orgasm washed over her. David continued his oral assault as Sarah screamed, “Okay, stop! Please, it is too much! I am so sensitive!”

Planting one last lick along her slit, David looked up at Sarah with a smile saying, “Well, I think I found all five in time.”

“Absolutely!” she said with desire burning in her green eyes. “Get your dick up here. I want your cock in my mouth!” Sarah said, licking her lips seductively.

Making his way around to the head of the stretcher, David pulled the release to lower Sarah’s head flat. She reached out and began stroking David’s hard shaft. Using the tip of her tongue, Sarah licked along his frenulum causing David to throw his head back and groan. Ever so slowly, David began pushing his throbbing shaft deeper into her mouth. As he started to pull back, Sarah quickly reached out and grabbed his ass pulling him further in. As his cock slid further along her slippery tongue the pressure was building in his balls. Taking a deep breath, Sarah pulled the last few inches of his manhood into her tight throat.

“Oh my God! That feels so good!” David moaned before slowly pulling out.

Using his hips as hand holds, Sarah forced David in and out of her warm, wet mouth. Fucking her mouth sent David’s head spinning. He leaned forward taking each of her fleshy orbs in hand and massaged the delicate skin. Sarah’s moans reverberated up the length of his cock like sparks of pleasure. This only encouraged him to play with her nipples pinching and pulling on them. Both Sarah and David were groaning in pleasure when they were ripped from their reverie as the walkie talkie squawked, “86, this is base. Come in 86. Over.”

David looked at the walkie in shock screaming, “Not now!”

Sarah smiled and pulled him deep into her mouth with a sound that seemed like, “Mmm Hmm”

David reached for the walkie saying, “Roger that, 86 here, Go ahead base. Over.”

Sarah took that as her cue to redouble her efforts. Releasing her right hand from his hip, she began gently tugging on David’s balls. She used her other hand to make him piston her waiting mouth and swirled her tongue around his cock.

“We have a Priority 1. Female. Early 20’s. Victim is unresponsive with no breathing or pulse,” squawked the walkie talkie. “Please confirm, Over.”

“Jesus Christ, here I come!” David said as he felt his last remaining grip on control disappear. Sarah pulled his cock as deep down her throat as he could fit and milked the seed from his balls. He shot ropes of cum down her throat into her hungry belly. David groaned as his legs gave out from the mind blowing sensation.

“Please confirm, Over!” base repeated a little testily.

“Yes,” David barked. “Roger that, Base. 86 is on the way. Over and Out”

David turned to look at Sarah as she slowly licked a stray rope of cum from her chin and reached for her clothes with a wink.

 

[pink_silk_glove]

"Have a good one," she sang her automated response to the paramedic as he headed for the exit. She wouldn't have noticed save for the peculiar hop in his step that drew her glance as he breezed through the door frame about level with the six-foot mark on the colored yardstick. Then he vanished into the blinding sunshine that made her squint and turn her attention back to her work. "Next? Hi," she briskly greeted the subsequent in line. They all wanted to get through as quickly as she did.

The shift ended at four and by 4:02 she was punched out and on her way. On the street corner she stopped to pull off her work shirt and stuff it into the top of her bag, revealing a black cropped sports tank that she wore as a bra, and lots of pale midriff. Her navel was pierced, an opal hanging suspended in the hole, and ink on her right flank showed a tattered-winged harpy in black and faded red, kneeling in torn fishnets and a bandeau, wearing a mischievous smirk and a flop of black hair hiding one eye. A pinch of babyfat rolled above her waistline. She'd been gaining lately. It was one of the drawbacks of whenever she was living healthier.

When are you getting here

"Fuck!" she huffed when the message had not answered her question. Corey was living at her place and was supposed to have 200 dollars for her.

Do u have the money?

Hitting send, she put on her sunglasses and lit another smoke, filling her lungs, then venting a long plume before shouldering her bag and heading off. It was four blocks to her sister's place and the bright sun was zapping her energy, so she found a gap in the traffic and jogged across to the shady side of the street. By the time that she got there the cigarette was pretty much done, so she tossed the butt on the sidewalk, crushed it under her toe and rang the bell. She couldn't have her own keys because her sister's fiancé didn't trust her with them.

"Hey, it's me."

The door buzzed open and she took the stairs to the second floor. Her sister was waiting in the doorway holding Talia. The baby's tired head rested on her auntie's shoulder next to her flowing ash blonde curls.

"Hey, baby girl," she sang fondly as she relieved her sister's burden took her daughter into her arms. Talia started to fuss. "Awww, sh shh," she hushed, her face aglow for the first time since she had dropped her off that morning.

"She's ready for a nap," her sister told her. "But she's fed and changed."

"Thanks Eleni," she said as she smoothed down the baby's downy locks with tender care. "I know, I know," she dissuaded the child's crankiness to no avail. "Mommy's here. We're going home now."

"You have rent for this month?" Eleni asked.

"I think so," she answered.

"You think so?" her sister pressed, her tone sounding parental.

"Yeah, I got it," she dismissed.

"That deadbeat Corey paying his share?"

"Don't worry," she insisted. "I got it." The truth was that she did have the rent, barely, but once she paid it, she'd have loose change until her next cheque, unless Corey came up with the money like he was supposed to.

"When are you going to kick that loser out?" Eleni asked, although it was more demand than question. "He's a no good leech."

"Don't tell me what to do," she scowled back. "You sound like Mom."

"He does nothing but get high and eat from your fridge."

"Eleni, just don't okay? I got enough shit as it is. I don't need this right now."

"You can't go on like this forever."

"I can't stand here in this hallway forever," she shook her head as she grabbed the folded stroller with her free hand. "Thanks again. I gotta go."

Back down the stairs and into the sunshine, she opened the stroller and strapped her daughter in. The baby fussed and cried but calmed somewhat when the hood was unfurled for shade. There was still no answer on the phone as she made off down the sidewalk. Seven blocks later and a fumble with the keys, she hefted dozy Talia back to her shoulder and collapsed the stroller with one hand and a poke with her toe, a skill that she'd become proficient in. At the top of the stairs was an external corridor along the back of the building over the parking lot cramped by dumpsters. There were two dingy suites above Tong's Chinese Kitchen. The first one was home.

She opened the door to grey carpet long stamped flat as she leaned the stroller against the closet door and removed her shades. Then she turned through the small kitchenette to put her bag on the table next to last night's dishes. In the living room, the coffee table had a half dozen empties and an old pizza box on it. At the far end, the sun glowed orangey behind the bronze colored curtain covering the glass patio door. Corey sat shirtless on the couch bingeing something on Netflix with his cap on backwards, his bare foot perched upon the coffee table and twitching.

"Hey," he greeted her with widening eyes.

"Money?" she asked him.

"Otto's coming," he replied, looking past her as he stood. His skin had a sort of coppery hue, due to some sort of Cuban or Puerto Rican in his lineage of which she wasn't sure. The waist of his boxers showed above his loose knee-gashed jeans and a graffiti style 'Hype Killah' was inked onto the left side of his neck.

"Who the fuck is Otto?"

"You know," he shrugged.

"A new man," she answered for him as she wiped Talia's drool from her shoulder with the heel of her thumb. "200 bucks. You promised," she reminded him. "I gotta pay rent in three fucking days."

"We gotta pay Otto."

"We?" she prompted. "I gotta pay 800 bucks. I'm only asking for two, so I'm paying six. Besides, I thought you already got shit," she reasoned. "Lemme put her down." She carried her daughter into the bedroom. Corey followed. The sunlight creeping past the edges of the blinds kept the room dim.

"Yeah, from Otto," he explained.

"But you don't even have it," she said as she laid Talia down in the crib with care before leaning over the rail to press her lips to her forehead.

"He's coming," said Corey as he followed her back into the living room. When she turned to him, no trace of the warm smile that she had had for her daughter remained.

"CC cut you off," she deduced aloud. He had been forced to find a new dealer.

"Otto's got good shit," he deflected.

"Have you tried it?" she asked him point blank. The distant look on her boyfriend's face told her that he hadn't. "How do you know?"

"I got a hundred, and we can get some shit from Otto."

"You're living on my couch for fucking free, you cheap bitch," she argued, her frustration growing. "You agreed 200."

"I'll get it tomorrow," he explained. "Jay owes me." This time it was Jay. The last couple of times it was Mickey. It was the same story with just a different supposed debtor.

"I need it now," she said gritting her teeth to try to keep her voice down now that Talia was asleep.

"You need it Monday," he dismissed. "Okay, I give you this hundred, then you can pay Otto," he schemed as she turned her back and headed to the kitchen to open the fridge.

"And you drank all the beer?" she asked, her incredulity only matched by her sarcasm.

"No, Ben had some."

"Ben? Ben was here?" she hissed. "I told you not to let that racist twat in my place," she spat as she let the cool air of the fridge soothe her sweaty skin. "Is there even a toke here?"

Corey closed up behind her and slid his palms up her tummy and under her top to fondle her. She leaned her tired body back into him and inhaled as his fingertips pinched her nipples, wishing that she still had her titty rings. She had taken them out to breastfeed, and would need to get them redone once Talia was weaned, if she had the cash. She twisted her neck for a kiss. Corey's phone rang in his pocket and he let go to check it. She closed the fridge.

"Okay, Otto's on his way," he said. "Twenty minutes."

She sighed. Then she moved to her bag that was taking up about one-third of the space on the small kitchen table, pulled her work shirt off the top, hung it over the chair and dug out her smokes. There were three left in the pack. Pushing the curtain aside, she stepped out onto the narrow balcony, lit up and leaned on the rail over the street below. A straw mat that hung to the right for privacy from the neighbor barely wavered in the muggy windless air, but at least it gave shade. She refused to smoke inside ever since Talia was born. Corey joined her on the balcony, massaging her back with his palm. She took a long drag and relaxed as his hand moved further down to stroke the curve of her ass under her skirt. Then his other hand joined in on the action and his fingertips found the waist of her tights and began to peel. They had to do a little digging at first to work beneath the tension of her belt, but soon they were tugging downwards, taking her panties with them.

Once her leggings reached nearly to her knees, his finger probed inside her pussy, taking a slick coating and spreading the moisture around as she added some arch to her spine and stuck her ass out. She took another drag, casually observing the traffic below, the cars trucks and taxis slowly bunching up for the red light at the end of the block, the pedestrians on the far sidewalk with their bags and carts, a shaggy dude with dreadlocks on a skateboard rolling past, his wheels clack-clack clak-clacking over the cracks in the concrete, all of them oblivious to the hanky-panky happening behind the shroud of old decorative sheet metal riveted beneath the balcony railing. She could feel Corey's stance change behind her, stepping up close and knew that he was lining up his dick to fuck her. She smoked again and gave her ass a subtle wiggle of enticement. With one hand on her hip he steadied her and with his other he put himself in. She exhaled a long soft sigh as he hilted in.

A grin crept over her face as he boned her. 'Fuck you, World,' she thought, knowing that as much as the folks below would condemn her semi-public naughtiness, they all wished that they were doing what she was doing. Those poor loser hypocrites were stuck in traffic, burning gas that they had worked too hard to pay too much money for, picking up broccoli and hamburger helper to take home and heat up for their ungrateful families, herded through their day like sheep, while she was smoking a cigarette and having sex. Corey's dick slid into her, receded and slid in again and again, his slender hot meat probing deep into her wet folds at a variable but languid tempo. Of course, she knew that she was running in the same ratrace as those on the street below, but not at that moment. Her shit day was over and she had earned this. Right then, she was reaping her hedonistic rewards without apology.

Corey leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck as his arms snaked beneath her and under her top again. Now someone on the other side of the street would be able to tell that her tits were getting played with if they bothered to look up and notice, and their imagination could go from there. The thought made the moment all that much better. Silently, she dared the geek in the plaid shirt, the heavy-set middle aged lady with the expensive dye job and arrogant stride, the meter maid in her crisp shirt and shorts and dark-rimmed glasses, to look up and be offended before going home to masturbate.

With two pert palmfuls of her breasts, Corey leaned in to kiss her ear. She cocked her head aside to hold the smoke to his lips and let him suck some nicotine. Once he exhaled, she stood up, causing him to slip out, and turned to kiss him. Her top caught on her pale nipples as she crushed her chest into him and her arms vined around his shoulders. He was slender and lithe and his mouth tasted like smokes and beer. Flicking the butt into the coffee can in the corner, she kicked off her shoes and slid her tights all the way off. Then she backed her boyfriend through the doorway and into the living room to push him down onto the couch and climb on. His hat wouldn't stay on his head as she kissed him, so she tossed it aside. Then reaching down between them, she propped him up and sank down his length. Corey grabbed two handfuls of ass while she rocked in his lap. Her breasts, still exposed, lured his mouth to suckle and she inhaled sharply from the tingly pleasure. She pressed down harder, trying to find something hard to grind her clit against, but her boyfriend kept working to lift her ass to develop a stroke. She settled for a grind at the bottom of each piling, an abortive sigh accompanying each hint at serious pleasure. Ultimately it was not enough and after a few minutes riding, Corey splurted his cum all over her diaphragm. Unsatisfied, she kept her hips slowly rocking until he was too soft to stay in, then dismounted to sprawl on the other end of the couch. He slumped against her, his head on her flank and his hand on her thigh.

Corey's phone rang on the coffee table. Eagerly, he picked it up. It was Otto. Jumping to his feet and refastening his fly, Corey grabbed his hat and headed down the stairs to meet him at the door. She slipped back into her top and stood in her doorway to see who this guy was. The two of them stood halfway up the stairwell for privacy and Otto looked up at her. His vibe was bad. He was a large-bodied Asian with a bowl cut and a plain wrinkled t-shirt. There was nothing cool or fashionable about him. He made no statement other than business. He was shady as hell and he scared her enough that she stepped back half into her doorway, keeping one eye on the proceedings. Otto glared up at her, clearly unhappy with her presence and making her feel unwelcome even in her own home. There was nothing at all humorous nor jovial about the thin dark line of his mouth. She narrowed her wary eye back at him but ultimately couldn't hold his gaze and turned away.

"Got it," said Corey with a glint in his eye as he shut the door behind him. She felt relieved that Otto was gone. "Got a rig?" he asked as he nodded towards her bag on the kitchen table.

"Junk?" she asked point blank. "I thought it was coke."

"Otto doesn't sell coke."

"I haven't done junk in like two years," she said. "Besides, I don't shoot. I never shot up. You know that."

"Fuck," he huffed.

"You want to shoot heroin and you don't even have needles?" she posed. "Like I'd let you bring any in here anyways, you dumb shit. I have a baby in the house and she crawls and grabs things."

"Pipe, then," he strategized, hastily changing the plan.

"There's glass on the patio," she shrugged. Corey stepped out past the curtain and came back with a pyrex bowl.

"Fuckin' crack pipe," he complained.

"Stop being a bitch. If you don't like it, go out and get your own," she told him. "Or go to the fucking needle exchange and get in line with the downers, but don't come back here if you do, and you'll still owe me 200 dollars." Corey picked the lighter up from the coffee table and began cleaning the frost and grit pipe. Then he sat on the end of the sofa to open the little baggie and drop his hit into the bowl.

Heroin was the ultimate. It was better than sex. She remembered all too well all the times that it had lifted her out of all of her stress and the bullshit of life and took her up to heavenly bliss where not the slightest fucking thing mattered. Heroin could make you smile for the landlady. It could make you laugh at cops. It was divine. It could also drag you into the grip of demons, whacked out and hating yourself while you lost your mind. She watched the smoke rush up the pipe as Corey cooked and hooted. Then he sat back calm and relaxed for a moment before turning to her and offering the pipe.

She had a bad feeling about it, but she had been so looking forward to this weekend and to let loose. She could spend a Friday night sober like a working stiff schmuck loser, or she could get high. Just one hit was all that she needed. Reaching out for the pipe and lighter, she cooked up and inhaled pure bliss.

It came quickly. Within five minutes there was a fuzziness in her extremities. Usually it took closer to twenty. Then a couple of minutes later, she didn't have the slightest care in the world. A dreamy smile crept over her lips. It was just as good as she had remembered, perhaps even better. It was certainly better than the coke and ecstasy and occasional bit of meth that she had settled for over the past few months. She'd been kidding herself with the amphetamines. Down was the dope.

"Good shit," she breathed easily as she slid off the couch and began crawling towards the balcony. She never got there.

She didn't hear Corey calling her name. Neither did she see him leaning over her. She didn't feel him shaking her, shaking her hard, slapping her cheeks to wake her. Then she didn't hear him stomping around the room, swearing his head off in desperate anguish. She had no idea that his trip had gone very bad very quickly, and if she had known, she would have only found it amusing. She didn't notice him gather up his things, his t-shirts, his hat, his phone. Nor did she hear him dial her phone (as his had no minutes left) while he ran out the door, his footsteps clambering down the stairwell in clunky haste. She had not the slightest awareness of the shock and fright of her sister on the other end of the line trying to piece together the incoherence that Corey was blathering at her. She didn't hear the soft crying of her daughter in the bedroom, the only disturbance of the peace of the next five minutes as Netflix patiently awaited approval to play the next episode, before Eleni burst in through the door, spare keys in hand, and found her sprawled in euphoric oblivion on the dirty carpet by the balcony window, shaking her, screaming at her to wake up between instructions from 9-1-1, tears cascading down her cheeks.


The sirens of the emergency response warbling down the street below the window drew louder and clearer until they stopped in front of the building below, but to her they were muted silent. She did not see the neighbors in the hall, the landlady from the Chinese Kitchen downstairs, peering through the doorway in awe as the police entered first and began checking the premises for evidence, digging her ID out of her bag, before the paramedics followed with their cases of equipment. She was totally clueless to the chaos as the professionals took over the scene and Eleni went to the bedroom to retrieve Talia and cradle her tightly as the cops grilled her with their questions, to which she had next to no answers.

None of it existed at all.