She carries a purse full of credit cards and curled up cash but she’s not going shopping. She opens her compact, sets it on the bed, and quickly hides her reflection under a pile of white. With the skill of a surgeon she goes to work cuttin’ and slidin’. A perfect 111.
She offers the first bump to Sickboy.
“Here you go, baby. You first.”
Sickboy declines. Powder has never been his thing.
“That’s all you, sweetheart.”
Then George Washington gets rolled up tight like a straw. Up goes line one and on turns Sickboy’s lady friend. She’s got the look.
She stands up and sways her hips slowly, seductively. Her body makes music when she moves. Smooth and sultry. Every curve put in place with sinful intent. She lifts her form fitting tee shirt up over her head and throws it to the floor. Now top and bottom it’s only black lace from Victoria’s place. The right strap slides down off her shoulder and Sickboy’s getting all worked up. She reaches back and frees the hooks. Two drops of perfection.
She jumps on Sickboy and rips off his shirt. She straddles and grinds as Sickboy’s blood flows south. Under his tongue a geyser is gushing. Sickboy is drooling like a thirsty dog.
She stretches out to reach the compact on the edge of the mattress and places it atop Sickboy’s chest. A double dose of danger to go on top of the first. This girl is a fiend. She wipes the dust from under her nose and looks at Sickboy with those jejo eyes. She leans in with a not so gentle whisper.
“Fuck me, Sickboy!”
She slips her tongue in his ear.
Kisses his neck.
Sickboy nearly jumps through the ceiling when she bites down on his nipple. Then he sees only the top of her head as she slides down to show Sickboy some much needed affection.
“Goddamn!” Sickboy murmurs under his breath through gritted teeth.
Sickboy is only minutes from exploding when suddenly his thoughts burst into the room like vice squad raiding a kingpin’s lair.
What makes this girl so eager to please?
Where did she say she was from? Nebraska? Idaho?
A million and two barroom conversations collide and swirl together in Sickboy’s head, each one running into the other. What did they talk about tonight?
Iowa! Yeah. She’s from Iowa. Corn fed. Just moved to PB from Iowa. An attorney. Family law. Child custody and separations. No wonder she’s so fucked up. That has to be depressing work.
In a moment she’s looking up at Sickboy. She doesn’t stop, but now Sickboy can see her eyes…her wild, absent eyes. She’s somewhere else. Maybe back in Iowa… before daddy fucked her over.
Sickboy gently lifts her head and sits up. He caresses her face with unexpected care and sincerity. Replace those wild eyes, Sickboy thinks, and this is just the face of a sad and lonely girl. Sickboy’s kindness and empathy have just trumped his biology and desire.
“You OK, honey?” Sickboy asks with genuine concern.
No reply. Only a confused and wild gaze.
Sickboy zips up and slides over to the edge of the bed… cock-blocked by his own good nature and overly active mind.
But it’s OK. This is not Sickboy’s scene anyway. He was just hammered and hurting after Jenny left the bar with that boy tonight.
“Listen, you’re a real cool chick and hot as hell, but I have to go” says Sickboy as he heads out the door and double times it back to Tony’s just in time to make last call.
