By Superlush
Part 13
Raymond frowned as he set his cell on the kitchen counter. He had known Andrew since high school so he was well aware that his friend tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve. He couldn’t help but wonder what had been up with him being so pissed off there at the end. After a moment’s consideration he decided it was probably just the money: Andrew never liked owing money to anyone. That had to be it. What else?
“Who was that?”
He turned around to find his roommate Justin coming into the kitchen. “Andrew,” he replied. “Just Andrew.”
“Yeah?” Justin was tall with long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, which seemed to push his angular face out like the prow of ship; he was a junior, like Raymond, and, unlike Raymond, he was a computer-science major. He also had a tendency to be unnervingly interested in everyone else’s affairs.
Justin went to the fridge and looked in. “So, what’s Andrew up to?” He poked his way past a few Jack-in-the-Box take-out bags. “He going to pay you yet?”
Raymond shrugged. “Who knows. He’s my home-boy so he gets some leeway.” He leaned against the counter and folded his arms, replaying the end of the conversation again. Andrew’s tone had been a different kind of pissed off than just pissed off about money; there was something else on his mind. What could it be?
“Leeway is leeway, bro…” Justin said, pulling out a carton of 2% milk. He opened it, drank deeply, then tossed it back in the fridge and slammed the door. “…but you’ve been floatin’ him awhile.” He fixed Raymond with his cold, analytic eyes: more accustomed to writing and rewriting computer code than anything else.
Raymond admired those eyes. They were a true businessman’s eyes. But they were unsettling sometimes. Like now.
Raymond looked away. “What’re you my business partner now?” he asked with a laugh. “Leave off… I can afford it. He and I go way back. He’s good for it. Shit, worst-case scenario his Dad’s good for it. What’s the problem?”
"No problem."
During the pause that followed Raymond noticed that Justin was in basketball shorts and a tank-top. “Hey, you gonna hit the weight-room?”
“Yep. You wanna roll with me?”
Raymond waved a hand. “Nah, I have some people stopping by.” This meant people with money who wanted to exchange it for illegal substances that Raymond possessed. They both knew it.
Justin nodded. He went to the sink. “Kelly?” he asked in a tight voice as he filled a water bottle at the faucet. “Is she one of the people coming by today?”
“Yep. How’d you guess?”
They exchanged mock-serious looks, then laughed.
“She’s quite the little pot fiend, isn’t she?” Justin leaned against the counter alongside Raymond. They didn’t look at each other; both fixed their eyes straight ahead as they spoke. "She's almost as bad as your girlfriend."
“Oh, believe me, it’s gotten worse. She just bought a quarter-ounce last week. Today... it’s half an ounce. When she called me last night she could hardly talk she was so out of it.”
Justin whistled. “I haven’t seen her in the computer center for awhile; she’s probably just sitting in her dorm smoking all day everyday.” He shook his head. “She must be a stoned-out little troll by now.”
“Troll?” Raymond arched an eyebrow. “We talkin’ about the same girl?”
They laughed again.
“True that,” said Justin, “Kelly’s a piece of ass, for sure.”
“You would know.”
There was a brief moment of tension between them after this remark.
“Yep, I guess I would,” said Justin finally, in an emotionless voice, like a computer's.
Justin had met Kelly at a party over at Delta Phi House last year when she was still a freshman. They had dated for a few months but it hadn’t worked out. For someone who didn’t mind living with a drug dealer Justin had turned out to be a bit of a prude since he broke up with her as soon as it became clear that she got high on a regular basis. The break-up had not been pretty, with a lot of name-calling and such. But, of course, by then she was an established customer with Raymond and so she kept coming around to buy weed. It made things awkward between the two roommates, but as long as she was paying Raymond didn’t really care. Money was money. He was sure Justin understood, from an analytic standpoint anyway.
“Alright, alright,” Justin said briskly, shoving off from the counter and stalking out of the kitchen. “I’m gonna get up out of here.” Clutching his water bottle he headed for the front door. Then, clearly not wanting to seem exclusively interested in Kelly, he turned back and asked: “So, who else? Who else is coming by today?”
Raymond squinted his eyes; pulling up the names. “Mac, Debbie, and two guys Andrew vouched for.”
“Mac? That guy’s a nut.”
“Yes he is. But his money’s green like everyone else’s.”
“You know,” Justin said, in the cool tone of dispassion that he always used when he was about to butt in deep on someone else’s affairs, “it’s a quasi-jackass move having people come to the apartment still, you know that right?” He shrugged. “Just sayin’. You’ve got those three Stooges working for you now; you’ve got the best suppliers in the area happy; you should be doing all your business through the Stooges and keep your hands clean. Or at least, cleaner. You know, like Tony Soprano,” he adopted a New Jersey accent, “’Free yourself up fur some global t’inkin’.’” Without waiting for a response he disappeared out the front door. It closed behind him, leaving Raymond alone in the apartment.
.......
Part 14
Relief washed over Ashley like a warm wave when she saw Andrew waving to her from a booth along the wall. For a moment there, as she had emerged bewildered from the shimmery hallway into the bright noisy dining area, she had been certain that she had somehow ended up in the wrong place. That Andrew was gone, somehow. That she would have to navigate that incomprehensible sea of people outside and find her way home. Alone. During that moment of slow-panic it had dawned on her that she had left the apartment not only without her cellphone, but without her purse as well. That meant no money, no ID, no nothing. She had been so stoned when they left her apartment that now, when she tried to think back on it, she couldn’t even remember closing the apartment door, let alone locking it. To make matters worse, she had no idea what direction they had turned on Market St. (the only major roadway she could have oriented herself with) so she had no clue where she was at all. The panic that this realization had produced was different from the sharp stabs of old fashioned paranoia that had struck her that morning. Instead it was a dull, aching sensation that clawed at her very being. It was worse than the paranoia: more like a toothache than a sudden explosion of fear. Awful, gnawing terror. She had hated it. It distracted from her high way worse than paranoia. She could feel herself coming down, dragged away from her high, making her wish fervently, despite the ostensibly unsavory prospect of being baked out of her mind as she tried to find her way home, that shewasn’t coming down; making her wish that she had some more pot with her, with or without weird dropper-drugs added, so that she could duck back into the bathroom and burn a quick bowl to reduce the stress that being lost downtown caused.
But... then she had spotted Andrew waving and the panic had washed away. And once the panic was gone, her high settled back in. Her limbs hung loose, posture relaxed, and she felt herself sink pleasantly into the murky, tingly, body-high.
That was better.
And there was Andrew.
She sidled toward his booth, passing glancing boy-monkeys and eye-rolling girl-monkeys, her hooded eyes fixed on Andrew.
Her fantasy from the bathroom popped into her mind and there was an immediate surge of blood to her groin. Despite having just been freshly satisfied, her clit sang.
She smiled.
She felt like a cat. She knew she wasn’t a cat, she was a monkey, but still… there was a definite feline smoothness to the way she was rocking her hips jauntily from right to left, pulling her ass with them like a swinging pendulum for hypnotising boys; there was a definite predatory satisfaction kindled by the gentle but weighty bobbing of her breasts as she walked; a sexually aggressive thrust to her slow-eyed gaze as she neared Andrew’s table. She felt so much like a cat that she wanted to leap, feral, into his lap, grab down his pants and seize his…
Another surge of blood made her clit tremble. It was all she could do to keep her hands from grabbing down her own pants. Well… skirt. She smiled wider.
“Hey Ash. You took forever. Thought you might have fallen in,” Andrew said as she slid with cat-like grace into the booth. The undersides of her boobs grazed the tabletop, making her clit so excited that it practically punched its way out of her panties to get at her fingers.
Andrew looked at her expectantly: waiting for a response. She looked back at him sleepily, feeling her lower body radiating heat. She had no response in mind. She smiled at him.
It felt good to smile.
Andrew licked his lips, finding them dry. He found that he was looking at a decidedly more sultry version of the young woman who had stumbled off to the bathroom ten minutes ago: her face and lips were deeply flushed, with the high points of her cheeks a darker red than the rest,thereby giving her a strangely exotic look, as if she were wearing some kind of face paint; her eyes were vivacious but vacant, like a child crashing from a massive sugar high; and unlike before she was practically oozing sexuality, so strongly that even a blind man wouldn’t have been able to not notice. He mentally calculated how long she had been gone and decided that she had definitely already peaked from the overall drug-cocktail: now she was probably just riding the body-high from the synthetic opium, plus the high from the Kush.
Plus the fact that she had apparently been smoking pot constantly since waking up.
Yeah, couldn’t forget that little detail.
“Hey girl. Anyone home?” he tried.
Ashley sat with her head thrust forward, hands in her lap; grinning hard, teeth exposed. She hadn’t moved since sitting down, she was just staring at him lustily.
“Hi…” she said. It seemed like the appropriate thing to say.
“Hi,” he replied. “Oh, I ordered a beer while I waited. Hope that’s okay.”
“Um, it’s funny, bu’ I... I wa’n’n... Hmmm... wasssn’n sure I’d f-f-fin’ you.” Ashley wasdiscovering that her tongue was too big for her mouth. She giggled. Stupid monkey-tongue. She pointed vaguely in the general direction of the bathroom. “I’m so… just… off… off my ass baked. Sorry, I... I...” She so badly wanted to tell him about her amazing fantasy, but stopped herself:You don’t tell boys about your... fucking crazy-hot fantasies. That’s not cool. “I jus’ was all... ‘Where’sss Andrew?’ like... to’lly all like to’lly confused an’... an’...” She giggled. “...an’ whatever.”
Andrew shrugged. “Well, here I am. Never left.”
“Yah.” She ran her big tongue around the inside of her mouth; resisted the incredibly strong urge to suck on her finger like she had done at the clothing store. It had felt so good—would feel so good, whatever. “There you are.”
I’m so good with monkeys…
“You look pretty flushed.”
“Oh yah? …” she replied, giving a saucy rock of her head from side to side, “… so what?”
In a split-second, without any real thought, she decided that she should flirt with Andrew.Why?—a part of her protested. Because he’s a guy… who has pot in his car… who bought her clothes… who, whether intentionally or not had directly enabled her to feel totally high and hot and amazing back there in the bathroom… and whose cock she had sucked in her fantasy… That was so hot. Wasn’t he perfect for flirting with?
She leaned forward onto the table with both hands still in her lap so that her cleavage hung down luxuriantly. Her blood surging yet again to her groin, she said: “So, I’m flushed…” Her rectangular eyes peered lazily into Andrew’s; gleaming. “… big deal.”
Andrew gulped.
A flirty monkey-girl of style, that’s me in a bombshell. She giggled.
.......
Part 15
At a certain level Ashley couldn’t believe what she was doing. She told herself to stop. She told herself to sit up straight and stop dangling her cleavage down like a slut for Andrew to stare at. But instead of stopping she found herself much more interested in giggling; reveling in Andrew’s shifty-eyed discomfort and loving the distinct feeling of her lips drawn back in a big lopsided smile while the giggles bubbled out of her. She was the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland—whose massive smile had entranced her as a little girl, before she moved on to Spice World and pop stars. She was totally the Cheshire Cat—stoned out of its mind, sitting in a restaurant booth across from Andrew, leaning its tits forward for the world to see... The thought of a cat with tits made her giggle harder, which jiggled her boobs lightly. Which felt good…
The sensations of her skin-surface were tingling into her brainstem like messages from a submarine to a satellite, amplified by the body-high. What had been throbbing numbness in the car was now dazzling sensitivity. She could feel every inch of her tits dangling forward, every inch of the tabletop forcing the soft flesh of the bottoms of her tits to yield…
“… You ge’ it An’rew?” she breathed, doing her very best Marilyn Monroe impression—breathy voice; sunny smile—just as she had practiced in front of the mirror many, man bored, stoned evenings since arriving at college. Happy Biiiiirthday… Mister President. “Ge’ it?” she repeated. “Big deal? …” More giggles made her titflesh jiggle merrily once again—which was fine with her because it just made her joke all the more clear, and it was probably something Marilyn Monroe would have done too. Besides, it was all in the name of good old fashioned college flirtation, an activity that she relished. They were two stoned college-monkeys right? No subtlety was needed here.
“Yes,” Andrew replied, starting to get a little flushed himself. His eyes darted rapidly from her wide-smiling face with its low-lidded sexy gleam to her chest and back again, uncontrollably, while she looked on and giggled at him. “I... I can… um… see how… ” He managed to look away: out into the random bustle of the restaurant. “… I can see how big a deal it is.”
Keep it together buddy—he told himself; she’s warming up to you. This is good. This is perfect. Just keep it together and control yourself.
“Actually,” he ventured a look back into her eyes: she kept on giggling at him, causing his eyes to be pulled down to the inevitable jiggling, “… Actually, I was going to say… um… that it’s a little hot in here.” He licked his finger and held it up as if testing the air, flashing an easy smile. “In fact, I should ask the waiter to adjust the heat if possible. Heat stroke is real shit, you might be in need of medical attention.”
“Yer funny,” Ashley purred, eyeing his biceps. Just as before, back in the car, she was realizing that she had never really noticed Andrew in a sexual way before; but now… “Actually though,” she flirted, “I’m preddy sure that all that heat... is comin’ from… from down here.” She pointed her index finger at her cleavage. “Ya know?”
So many surges of blood had gone south, away from her brain, that little black spots were appearing at the corners of her vision and she felt herself wavering, still giggling hard but feeling hella lightheaded.
Tipping forward slightly she had to quickly pull her hands out of her lap to steady herself against the table.
She grinned down at the table. “Whoopsie. Good thing this... like... table’s here, huh?”
“Um, yeah. Careful there.”
From across the room Aubrey was watching them. Not at them… at Ashley. She was scowling.
Andrew pushed their water glasses toward the wall. “I’ll just move these aside,” he said, half-joking. “There appears to be a slight chance that a stray breast might knock them over.”
“Shut up!” Ashley cried with a giggle. But she leaned back to try and minimize the footprint of her large bosom. She wondered through her haze if she maybe she had overdone the flirting a little bit. The thought disappeared the instant she settled against the backrest of the booth. For then body-high enveloped her like a warm, tingling blanket.
She bit her lip and smiled at the same time.
Niiiiiice... A monkey-girl of style…
“I don’ see wha’choo… like… what the problem with my… like, boobs is.... uh... are? Are or is? Um, whatever.” Her brow furrowed momentarily, then relaxed as she continued. “My boobs’re fine. I’m wearin’ a bra, right?” Her tongue felt even bigger than ever.
“Um, actually you aren’t wearing a bra,” Andrew pointed out politely.
“Oh.” She looked down at herself, which was awkward to do the way she was sitting, but she managed.
Sure enough. No bra. Just boobs. Her nipples were sticking out fiercely from the green top.
She giggled.
“Oh, right. I’m not wearin’... one, huh? Never mind, then.”
Andrew, trying to ignore the growing tightness in his pants, decided to go for a joke: “What I’ll say is… With or without a bra: You had better watch where you point those honeys: you might take someone’s eye out. Seriously.”
Ashley was too busy being the Cheshire Cat—marvelling down at her braless breasts—to hear him at first.
Rebecca: Monkey-girl’s with style don’t wear bras. Ashley giggled and smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. Cheshire Cat’s don’t usually have tits, though. So true. Bras sucked. Tits were awesome.
“Ash?” Andrew asked gently.
“Huh?” Her hooded eyes pulled up from her boobs, smile dropping away.
He tried again: “You could put an eye out with those things. Your... um... your boobs,” he pointed, “Those are some lethal weapons you’ve got there.”
“Where?” Her mouth hung open. “Wha’re you talking about?”
Rebecca hadn’t said a thing about weapons. Had she?
“There.” He pointed at her chest.
She followed his finger, back down to her chest. But—she thought stupidly—that was just where I was... “Oh! Oh yah! Right, right, right. I ge’ it.” She smirked up at Andrew. “Of course that’s whad yer talkin’ about, huh, monkey-boy?” She rolled her eyes. But she was at the same time immensely pleased by his attention. After all tits were for fondling... No, no… Looking. Yes. For looking… And for fondling. She giggled stupidly, wrapped in her delightful body-high blanket.
Then she remembered Andrew. He was flirting with her, wasn’t he? She considered coming back with a flirty response, but instead her thoughts drifted away and she just sat, open-mouthed, looking at him.
He was cute.
“Man, you’re out of it,” Andrew said. “I haven’t seen you this baked since…” Last Friday—he thought. “… since that party at Josh Comb’s house back in February. The one with all those hash brownies, remember? You ate like twenty of them. Then you did like a dozen bong-rips.”
Ashley giggled hard. She felt like a quivering mass of giggle. He was so right! She had been really high at that party! “I did not eat... twenny...” She managed to say around her giggles.
“Fine, maybe it was ten.”
Her giggles trailed off for a second and she sat quietly, looking at her hands, which were clasped in front of her on the tabletop. Then the giggles came bubbling back.
“What’s so funny?” Andrew asked. It was a little unnerving watching her, he realized. He wasn’t sure if he had ever seen anyone so zonked.
“I just ‘membered something.”
“What? What did you remember?”
“Um...” A bashful smile flitted across her face. “I forgot my cell.”
“Oh, that’s right… You did. Silly you.”
Ashley stared at him. Her body-high tingled pleasantly, but she wanted to be serious. She shook her head. “I never ferget my phone. Like, ever. Always... I always ‘memmer to never... I cannaught even… like…” She shook her head again, overcome with disbelief. “… I can’t believe fer’got I my phone…” She paused, then smiled slightly.
“Yeah, I think you said that a little backwards,” Andrew said gently.
“Yah. I did, didn’n I? I... anyways... um... I can’t believe tha’ I fer’got my phone… Seriously, dude. And my purse. And my fuckin’… brain. Gawd.” She giggled.
... if you wanna get retarded stoned.
“Are you sure you didn’t eat some hash brownies today?” Andrew asked, teasingly. “Because from where I’m sitting...”
Ashley smirked, “Ya right, smart guy. I wish!”
“Okay.” Andrew laughed.
“Seriously, dude? If I had some fuckin’... hash brownies...” Ashely bobbed her head up in down in an eager gesture of approval, “Dude... I’d be so fucked... I wouldn’t give, like, a shit that I’d forgot anything.” She smiled down at the table. “Tha’d be awesome, actually. Why don’ you have hash brownies?” she joked. “Make me some hash brownies.”
“You definitely wouldn’t have to worry about stress then,” muttured Andrew.
Just then the waiter passed by, balancing a tray of burgers. “Hey, I’ll be right with you guys, okay?” he shouted.
Andrew acknowledged him with a nod.
.......
Part 16
Raymond had showered and positioned a backpack of carefully weighed baggies of weed in the living room (the only customer today who would require any more than what he could easily pull from the backpack would be Mac).
As he walked back into the kitchen he sniffed his fingers. They smelled strongly of weed: just from touching the backpack. Following a series of memory-links the smell summoned up the memory of being pulled over by a cop back in his home town, when he was just a piddly high school dealer hooking up his friends with twenty-sacks—when he had rolled down the window the cop had bent at the waist and sniffed around. Raymond shuddered at the memory: getting caught was any dealer’s worst nightmare and for Raymond avoiding getting caught bordered on an obsession. That home-town cop hadn’t smelled a thing, but it had been sheer luck: Raymond had driven off with a jar containing two ounces under his seat.
And now here he was: he had more drugs in his apartment today than he had ever dreamed of being dreamable back in high school. The stakes were a hell of a lot higher, clearly. And yet here he was inviting strangers into his apartment on a regular basis to sell them drugs…
“Quasi-jackass,” he said aloud, and shook his head.
Justin was right. He had Brad, Doug, and John, three reasonably bright sophomore business majors, out doing his groundwork on campus, and with them was bringing in more money than ever. He could just let them handle everything. It would probably be smarter.
But on the other hand, he liked having face time with customers. Half of dealing was people-watching. A certain type of person, perhaps, but still… It was fun. Always had been.
He set about fixing himself breakfast. Kelly had told him she would come by after she got out of class at 1. Since she would undoubtedly stop by her dorm on the way to smoke a bowl, he could expect her any time now.
He popped four frozen waffles in the toaster.
As he waited for his breakfast he planned what he would tell Pedro when he called tonight. He had been plotting this move for awhile now. Like any good businessman Raymond knew that he needed to expand to really start making strong profits and that he needed to make sure he presented himself as ambitious so that when opportunities emerged people like Pedro who were in a position to hand out such opportunities would know who to put in charge: with this in mind hehad decided to tell Pedro about his idea to try and negotiate a one-time distribution deal with some drug cartels in Cancun, since he would be going there soon for Spring Break with his girlfriend. It was the perfect cover. He could almost fund it himself but was not quiet able to. He would need some financing from Pedro. This was the hard part since Pedro never took chances on anything and never took on direct partners in any ventures. This was well known. But Raymond figured he had gotten closer to Pedro than anyone ever had before and if ever there was someone Pedro would take a chance with it was him. Or so he hoped. If it worked out, he would be able to procure a huge amount of high-quality product at a wholesale price, then slap a mark-up of twenty-five percent on it and sell it to these weed-hungry college kids. It was just good old fashioned economics 101.
Raymond was still mentally crafting his proposal, buttering his waffles and pouring on syrup when the doorbell rang.
He carried his plate to the door, and then paused for a moment to take a bite.
When he opened to door, revealing Kelly, he had a mouthful of waffle.
“Oh... Hey," she said, giving a little wave.
Raymond took a moment to drink her in. Damn, he thought. He fixed a good-natured smile on his face. “Hey, what up, Kelly? Come on in.”
She stood in the doorway and looked at him awkwardly.
He kept smiling as he noticed that she was baked out of her mind. As usual.
He took a few more bites of waffle. They were a little too crispy.
Blinking up at him in an obvious daze, the constant little smile of a hopeless stoner set at the corners of her lips, Kelly finally said: “Um... ... how’s it goin’?” and then, without warning, opened her arms and gave him a big hug; her boobs pressing against his lower chest.
“Whoa. Uh… It’s going okay.” Raymond held his waffles up and away.
She gave him an extra squeeze.
“I’ve been, lig… sooooo outta pot,” she chirped languidly, pulling back from him and looking up through her lashes; her little smile turning into a big smile. “I am nod efen fein’ bunny… Oh… whoops...
“Hey, hey, hey! Put that away, girl,” Raymond glanced over her head out into the empty hall. No one was there, but one could never be sure. He didn’t trust his neighbors to be cool. Not with as much weed in this apartment as he had.
“What’s wrong with you?” he snapped. “You want me to get busted?”
“Oh shid, I… I’m sorry.” Kelly giggled nervously and stuffed the wadded bills back. “I jus’… I jus’ wanna buy some herb.”
“Shhhh!”
“Oh… uh….” She struggled mightily. “I mean… uh… I jus’ wanna... hang out.” She looked over her shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of the spying stranger that Raymond had discovered. Finding no one, she immediately thought that whoever it was must run off. She turned back and grinned up at Raymond through her lashes and bangs
“Come on in,” he gestured brusquely, irritated. Quasi-jackass indeed! He had to be an idiot letting these morons come into his home. He turned and led the way toward the living room, feeling trapped in the situation and wanting it to be over quickly. “Shut the door on your way…” He turned back and found Kelly right behind him, a sleepy look of dumb eagerness on her face.
The door stood open.
He cleared his throat and went back and closed the door.
“Oh,” she giggled, “I… I sorry.” Then, to explain: “I should probably jus’, like… get it out there an’ say that I am… fucking… really really stoned. Cuz… cuz… I… uh… I an’ my roommate Claire did, like, a knife... I mean... a ton or a dozen or so knife-hits this mornin’…
“Oh? Yeah that’s... class... Have to get high for class.” Raymond had never gotten high before going to class in his life.
“Yeah,” continued Kelly. “An’ so then, when I, li’g, got out of class I smoked this blunt with... li’g... this guy…
Raymond was munching his waffles patiently while she rambled.
She cast her eyes down. “I mean, come on... li’g... Who, li’g, doesn’n wanna get high an’… an’ snuggle an’ stuff?”
“Yeah, that’s too bad.” Raymond was now wondering about that hug she had given him. He had been her dealer now for over ten months and never before had they been on a hugging basis... What was up with that hug? And why was she suddenly telling him about this other guy? And talking about snuggling? It made no sense.
“Yeah… its totally too bad,” Kelly mumbled. "Cuz I didn'n really even mean snuggle, really... you know? I wanted to... li’g..."
“Anyways Kelly,” said Raymond, cutting her off.
She had followed him into the living room and now they were standing by the big bay-windows that faced away from campus toward the downtown skyline.
His living room was ten times the size of Kelly’s dorm-room. And she was gaping around at it, even though she had been there dozens of times before.
“Okay, so… Kelly," Raymond wanted to keep things strictly business. “Have a seat and we’ll get this over with.” He sat in his recliner, she on an overstuffed armchair by the tv, across form him but still close. “So, you wanted a half-ounce right?" He set his empty plate on the coffee table and then grabbed and unzipped his backpack and pulled out a handful of baggies of weed.
Kelly nodded with more vigor than one would have expected from such a stoned girl, her lazy pothead eyes flashing with excitement. “Yah, defin’lly,” she mumbled, “that’s defin’lly, to’lly, to’lly right… what I want… what I wanted was… was a half... of... uh... an ounce…. Um... yeah.” Realizing that now was the right time to pull out her money, she did so. She held the bills on her bare, pressed together legs in a little pile. “An’ ounce… uh, I mean a half-ounce… would be cool. Really cool.” Then her smile got bigger as it occurred to her that she might have more than enough money. “Hold on, lemme…” She started uncrumpling bills. “Lemme count this… this money.”
Raymond rolled his eyes. He wanted her gone. This sale was going to be small potatoes anyway compared to Mac, who was arriving at 2:30. He looked at his watch. 1:50.
He could still feel her boobs against his chest. They weren’t nearly as big as Ashley’s, but… Damn. He eyed the way her hoodie held them in taut outline, while he pulled one of the bigger baggies, crammed full of buds, out from the rest. He needed to focus. Needed to keep his mind on business. Not Kelly’s tits, but Kelly’s money.
“Okay,” he said, tearing his gaze away, “this is already weighed out and… since you’re a loyal customer, I’m gonna give you one that’s got a little extra in it. Not much, mind you, I don’t give any free rides, so to speak: just a few extra buds.”
Kelly looked at him for a moment, her eyes distant. “Free... um... rides?” Then her face shone. “Oh! Extra. Cool. Wow… Tha’s so… so nice’ve you. Thanks.” She held up the stack of mangled bills, recounted. “An’ I think I… um… that I have enough to… uh… Can… can I ge’ ano’er ounce… I mean, another eighth… another eighth, too?”
“Damn girl,” Raymond laughed, “you going to have any money left to buy food with?”
Kelly shrugged. “I dunno. I’ll just... li’g... get some more from my parents. They don’ mind.”
Raymond pulled a smaller baggie from his pack as well. “I see how it is.” He shot her a different kind of look: thoughtful, slightly amused. “Actually its funny, you remind me of my girlfriend.” He paused. “Have you met her before? Her name’s Ashley.”
Kelly shook her head, eyes locked on the baggies. “Nope.” She held out her hands. “Can I see?”
“Sure.”
“Why did you say you wanna ride me?” Kelly asked as she accepted the two baggies. A roguish gleam had appeared in her heavy-lidded eyes and her smile had become oddly wolfish.
Raymond furrowed his brow. “What?”
.......
Part 17
Ashley bounced suddenly. Joy of joys! “Hey! You have your phone!”
Shit!—thought Andrew—she wants to call Raymond!
But no...
“Can you, like, take my picture? Take my picture! Please?” Ashley pleaded. “I look hella good in my new top, don’ I? Please?” She felt an overwhelming need to record this moment. This top. This... just this whole thing. She just had to record it. She didn’t know why, but it seemed to be of the utmost importance. Someone had been there to record Kendra! Why not her?
“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Andrew grumbled. He took out his cell and held it up. “What is it with chicks and pictures? You can’t go two seconds without having a picture taken.”
“Shut up, you know you like it,” Ashley cooed happily. “Okay, okay... um... lemme... lemme pose...” Poses are everything. Yeah so, which pose should she chose?
She sat up and forward again and she grabbed her hair up off her shoulders and made a cat-like snarl face. Perfect! Hot! He’ll love it!
“Okay, I got it.” Andrew said, with a chuckle as he switched to video.
Leaving the phone up, recording, he said: “I was completely serious when I said that those boobs of yours are lethal, though. Definitely amazing. They’re real right?”
“Definitely,” Ashley repeated, nodding but not understanding. She couldn’t stop running her hands through her hair. Something about having her arms up, forcing her tits out; her scalp tingling delightfully, tickled something in her memory… Something from a long time ago. Then she realized that Andrew was talking about her boobs again.
Dropping her hair she struck a mock-outraged pose—hands on her hips, chest thrust outward.
Everything in life is poses.
“Of course they’re real, you dick.”
“Hey, I was just asking. Just making conversation, here. Jeez.” Andrew laughed, glancing at the display: Ashley was perfectly framed. Her cleavage looked phenomenal.
“Wait, wait, wait,” she said, flirting. “Lemme... lemme get this straight. Are... are you sayin’ tha’ you’re... tha’ I’m… uh...” Start that over, girl—Ashley told herself. “Are you sayin’ that I’m, like, some kind of a…” Marilyn Monroe... “…bombshell? Some lethal bombshell... type, body-type?”
She held the pose, but she couldn’t help but smile. After all she was the stoned Cheshire cat monkey flirting with this cute... monkey-boy guy.
Andrew smiled back. “Are you kidding me? Hell yes! That is precisley what I’m saying. You’re a fucking bombshell, I will not deny it. You’re a 10. A total babe.” He laughed. “Stop me if I go overboard here, but seriously, if you were any more perfect they would have to issue you a permit to go out in public. There I’ve said my piece. You can get mad if you want, but I’m just being honest. That’s all. Just being real with you.”
He watched the tiny Ashley in his cell display giggle happily. Seeing her framed and ready for Youtube made her look even more lusciously blazed. He pushed the camera-phone forward a little.
“A 10?” she asked incredulously, flirtatiously; her hands sneaking back up to play with her hair again. “You’re sure about that, are you?” She turned coyly to one side, to eye him seductively, arch her back and accent her boobs. “Profile look good too?”
“Definitely,” he said, sternly. “And it’s not just me who thinks so, you know.”
Half-mockingly holding a hand up to her mouth like a naughty pin-up girl on a calender, Ashley gave a teasing gasp: “Oh dear. Everyone thinks so?”
“Everyone I know.”
“Well, well… …isn't that nice." Ashley was bursting with pride: at how wonderful to be called hot by other people and also at how skillful she was flirting with Andrew—she hadn’t been sure there for a while, but no... she still had it. "But... you can’t know the whole campus,” she breathed, then flashed a smile.
“I see,” said Andrew—he wasn’t sure how serious she was, it was... hard to tell with her. “is that how many people you want to know you’re a 10?”
“Maybe.” She giggled. “Okay… Yah… Sure… I want the whole campus should know. Um, I mean...
“Oh, believe me Ash, the whole campus does know.”
As she giggled with her face in her hands, trying to act embarrassed, Andrew ended the video capture and set his phone on the table. That would make a nice little clip for the archives, he thought.
When she heard it touch the table she dropped her hands and her eyes sought the phone. “Lemme see!” She thrust out both hands and wiggled her fingers eagerly.
“See what? The pictures?”
“Yah! Lemme see. Come on.”
He handed it over, wincing since there were no pictures.
She looked at the phone, smiling down at it like a child with a toy. Then her face fell. “Hey,” she said, “you... filmed me?” The playback danced before her hooded eyes.
“Are you sayin’ that I’m… I’m, like, some kind of a…some kind of bombshell?” said the cell phone’s tiny speakers in Ashley’s stoned voice.
“What?” Andrew sat up straight. Caught. “No, I did not.”
Ashley stared at the video on the display, stared at herself: jiggling boobs, tanned flesh, toothy smile, sleepy eyes, struggling to get her big, stupid, monkey-tongue to work, loving every second of it. She grinned. I look like Kendra. I look better than Kendra. “That’s hot,” she whispered. Her clit tingled as blood rushed out of her head yet again. The playback Ashley on the little screen was turning sideways. “Profile look good too?” "Oh hey! Lookit those tits," she exclaimed. It was like... seeing her reflection in the mirror, except... better somehow.
"Do you see her?" Someone said at a nearby table.
Ashley glanced around, a sudden wave of self-consciousness cascading over her. The bustling restaurant was still all around them. Some flat screen TVs were showing a football game. The table directly alongside their booth had two couples sitting at it. They were looking right over at them. She handed the phone back to Andrew, embarrassment flooding her. She also remembered that she had no idea where they were.
“Oh, um… by the way…” she asked in a small voice, “… uh… when we, uh, arrived… uh… here…”
“Yes?” This should be good, Andrew thought. He had also noticed the nosy couples at the next table but was ignoring them. Douche bags.
“Uh… Well..." She made a helpless gesture, as if she were talking about an embarrassing but inevitable fact of life. "it’s just that... well... everythin’ was pretty… fuzzy an’ stuff… …”
“I’ll bet. You couldn’t even stand up on your own.”
“Yah…” Ashley's clit was roaring now, pleading for her fingers. Unable to stand on your own: just like Kendra. “Yah, let’s just skip that part, K?”
“Okay, okay. Though I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”
“Bu’…so… uh…” He enjoyed it? That sounded... Hot!... weird. She shook her head and continued, “Bu’ soooo… I actually dunno where we are, like, at all.”
“You didn’t see the sign on the way in?” Andrew teased.
“No, I did not, smart guy,” she reached a hand across the table and smacked playfully at his face.
“You want to know where we are?”
“Yah… Where’re we at?”
Suddenly her eyes looked up and away from his and her face fell. “Oh… … Hi!”
The waiter had returned to the table and was watching the two of them incredulously. “Hi. This is Quincy’s,” he said, answering her question. “You guy’s ready to order? Sorry about the wait. As you can see we’re pretty slammed.”
“Oooo, I love yer hair!” Ashley cried, pointing to the prime faux-hawk. “It looks like… like… warrior hair. Doesn’n it?” she glanced at Andrew.
Just for the hell of it she imagined looking down at that hair while the face beneath it nuzzled into her boobs. Hot!
“Well, thanks,” the waiter replied.
“Yeah, well, we all like faux-hawks,” Andrew said briskly, “Look, we’ll take a pitcher of your finest IPA.”
.......
Part 18
“Anyway,” Raymond said, looking away from Kelly’s wolfish grin, “the two of you’ll have to kick it sometime. You would probably really hit it off.”
“’Kay.” Kelly seemed to look from him to the baggies only with difficulty.
He frowned. As he watched, her lips started moving in silent words. She was counting the buds in the baggie he was holding.
Raymond chuckled, feeling relieved that her attention was being redirected. That hug flashed into his mind again, along with that weird little wave she had given him when he opened the door. Had there been more to that awkward moment before the hug than just stoned witlessness? He forced these thoughts out of his mind: nothing was going on here: just business as usual. Kelly was just a pothead who couldn’t orient herself to a social situation very well anymore. That was all.
“One track mind, eh?” he said with a laugh, referring to her counting. But when she laughed and looked into his eyes the roguish gleam had returned: there was definitely something else on her mind besides weed. He looked away as he held out the baggies, unnerved by that smile: “Well, here ya go.”
She took them and immediately opened the big one and pulled out a bud as long as her hand. It was dense and sticky, covered with tiny pink crystals. It looked like a miniature Christmas tree.
“Oooo, wow.” She smelled it and rolled her eyes back into her head. “Shit!” she exclaimed happily, like Santa had really delivered this year. “This is so good!”
“Hey, that’s what you come to be for, right?”
She looked around. “Hey… Um, do you... li’g... have a pipe we kin’ smoke some of this with?”
“Uh… Kelly?”
“What?”
“My money?” He gestured at the bills sitting in a neat pile on the bare, pre-faded denim of her jeans.
“Oh.” She giggled stupidly, “Yeah… yeah. Right. Sorry.” She tried to scoop up the pile of bills with one hand while continuing to hold the bud and both baggies with the other; this resulted in half the bills falling to the floor around her feet. “Shit, I’m droppin’ it,” she murmured with a little smile. She started to lean forward to collect the bills…
“Kelly?”
“Yeah?”
Her bloodshot eyes met his and he smiled good-naturedly, “Put the bud down and use both hands.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Raymond glanced at his watch. He was already planning how he was going to handle Mac. Mac was a janitor at a local community college who sold out of his janitor’s closet. He was thirty years old and took the whole prospect of dealing far too seriously; the type of seriously that covered up the fact that he didn’t have the guts to expand. Every time he came by he wanted to run new up-sell pitches by Raymond, for feedback, despite the fact that everyone knows up-sell pitches don’t work in drug-dealing. It was damn annoying. But since he would be buying a half a pound there was no reason to rock the boat, and every reason to play along.
He continued thinking about Mac as he rounded up a pipe, lighter, and grinder for Kelly, while she looked on with stoned impatience.
“Here ya go,” he said finally.
“Thanks, Ray.” She pushed her hair out of her face and took them from his outstretched hand. She looked up at him through her lashes. “Thanks.”
He furrowed his brow and turned away. “Don’t mention it. No reason a customer shouldn’t be able to sample the goods.” He heard her snicker behind him.
A few minutes later Kelly was toking hard and he was lounging in his chair. He had turned on his stereo to play Nofx in the background. It was his preferred drug-dealing music. He found it especially humorous to play “Drugs Are Good” on a loop. Today, he opted for “Monosyllabic Girl”—it seemed fitting.
Leaning back in his chair, he observed his now happy customer enjoying his wares. Justin was right. She was getting worse. She had already taken four hits to herself without even offering to pass it; not even a look in his direction.
“So…” he said casually, “Justin tells me you’re not in class much these days.”
Nofx jammed in the background: ‘I take ‘er to the university / she says: “Huh?” / Take ‘er to our anniversary / she says “One!”’
Kelly had just taken her fifth hit and, having filled herself so full of smoke that it was seeping out from her nose and mouth, naturally couldn’t respond. Though she did pass the pipe to him now.
‘Yeah, everyone knows I’m in love / with the monosyllabic girl / Yeah, everyone knows I’m in love...’
He hit the pipe and waited, savoring the sweetness of his pot but only allowing a small amount of smoke to pass into his lungs: after all, his business was not to get high, but to do business.Using his remote control he took the stereo off of repeat and turned down the volume.
Kelly was grunting wordlessly around the smoke, obviously savoring the sweetness as well.
A few moments went by while she fought to hold in her hit, and succeeded, until finally she let it explode from her lungs in a torrent that rushed directly into Raymond’s face.
“Oooh shit, I’m sorry,” she managed to say before she began coughing uncontrollably.
“No harm done,” he smiled, “Just got me a little higher’s all.”
Her coughing subsided and she accepted the pipe back as he passed to her, giggling: “Yeah,” she said, “higher’s good.” Then she set about trying to answer his question: “Uh, I been… uh…” There was a long pause. Her face was blank. Clearly the question he had asked had disappeared from her mind as her high intensified. “Uh…” She blinked her rapidly drooping eyes and looked around slowly at the room, her gaze lingering on random objects before settling on the pipe. Then she looked up suddenly. “Uh… What’re we…? What was the quesh’ion, again?” She giggled.
“Class?” He prompted her. “Justin said he hasn’t seen you in class for awhile.” He tried to imagine Kelly in class, sitting there at the lecture hall, baked out of her mind, trying to take notes and retain information: the image was laughable.
“Ooooh... Oh yeah.” She licked her lips and looked down at the pipe, obviously wanting to hit again. “Yeah... uh... I’ve been not goin’... … ta class cuz…. cuz I… I dunno… Well… I guess cuz I… I mean… I do go to some classes… But not… others. I’m jus’ so tired in the mornings, ya know? An’ most of ‘em don’t... you know... take roll so... it’s cool... I kin’... kin’ just make it up.” She giggled, then flicked the lighter and took another hit.
“Oh, I see,” Raymond said with a laugh. “and you and Justin share an early morning class right?”
Kelly nodded as smoke seeped from her mouth. “7 am,” she managed to say around her hit. Blowing it out she gestured to the bowl. “Dude... Wha’ kinna bud is this anyway? Kush?”
“It’s called Pink Lemonade, but it also gets called Pink Widow.”
“Oh… Cool.” She picked up the big nug again and peered at it stonily. “Why… Why Pink Widow?”
“I guess because it gets you so high that your wife might as well be a widow.”
“Oh.” She thought for a moment. “Bu’… I… … I don’t have a… uh… a wife.”
“Well then, I guess it’ll just have to be you that gets that high.”
By the time the bowl was cashed, five minutes later, Kelly was slumped in the armchair, her face slack, eyes hooded-closed, arms splayed out on either side like broken wings.
“Hey... Hey Kelly? You okay over there?” Raymond asked. He tried to think of a joke using Pink Widow as its subject. Something like: you look like a pink widow spider. Or something. But then he heard his phone in the kitchen vibrate as it received a text-message. “Hold on.” He stood.
Kelly didn’t look up. But she did smile a little.
He retrieved his phone and, sitting back down, checked the text-message. It was from John, asking him about today’s quota for street-sales (the quota-system worked wonders for their gross sales). The text was in code: Raymond never allowed uncoded communication between himself and his “stooges” as Justin had put it.
He was texting his response when he heard a husky slur from Kelly’s slumped form… It was unintelligable.
“What was that?” he asked.
“You shou’… mash me... bowl…” It said.
He looked up. Through the tiniest slivers Kelly’s eyes were peering at him.
“Oh yeah? You think I should match you a bowl?”
“Yeah…” She smiled. “Cuz… cuz… I… I loaded one… so… you should… mash me...”
“So I should load one?” Raymond chuckled. Worse, indeed. “Sure thing, Kelly. Fair’s fair.”
He sent his text and then reopened his backpack. He dug his hand in, found a smaller baggie toward the bottom and pulled it out. It was marked with neat Sharpie: “Trainwreck.”
“Fair’z... ... fair,” Kelly mumbled in a tiny voice.
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