Her hair was
short and blond and had plenty of glimmer in it. The green eyes
she had were much the same. She was petite, which is always a
plus. Makes a man feel so much a man. Her nails were fire-engine
red and just as dangerous as any four alarm conflagration. All in
all this kind of girl always proves to be a tasty treat of which
men hope they can get at least a mouth full. Her given name was
Christy, but Ready Willing and Able was her AKA. She couldn't
help herself, this girl, she was just born that way, so "born to
be bad" is how men pegged her. In general she always got what was
coming to her, and a little something extra thrown in for kicks.
A girl like this is designed for fun, innocent fun. Well maybe
the fun isn't so innocent, but you know what I mean.
She came over
with a friend Dude already knew. Girls like her always come over
with a friend.
The friends they
hang out with are always not quite so pretty as they are. For
this quality they choose them carefully. In this fashion they
give the illusion that they're better looking than they really
are. In this case it worked. Dude was taken with her
They sat down at
the coffee table as a pair, Dude on the other side facing them.
It wasn't fair of course, it was two against one.
"Dude, this is
Chris." The first one said.
"I've heard so
much about you," said Chris, and offered her hand.
across and shook it that way that men do when shaking the hand of
a woman. Chris was good, and knew to start with touch early in
"Nothing bad I
bad," she said smiling, "not the juicy stuff."
Then she pulled
her hand back and sat back in the couch, giving him a full-length
view of herself and regarding him at the same time. This got his
attention, as it was mean to do.
"Got a quarter?"
said the first one.
"You know I
don't like selling quarters," he answered, "but in your case," he
said this looking at the first one, but addressing them both,
"I'll make an exception."
So that's just
what he did.
He put on some
tunes, and rolled a joint, brought out the mirror of smoked
glass, the razor blade and a hand-blown glass tooter. And oh
yeah, he took out the blow.
"Ever had this?"
he asked Chris. He didn't ask the first one, she was a regular
"I've had coke
before," she answered rather haughtily, "if that's what you mean.
But not yours."
Actually she was
lying here. She'd done a line over at the first one's house. When
she'd ascertained the quality, and found out there was more, and
that there was a man attached to the other end of the line, she'd
ragged her to bring her over.
continued, "I've done the commercial stuff, but I hear this is
"You might find
it better. It's Bolivian yellow rock."
She looked at
the wall. On it was a wall-hanging with a monkey. Across the room
behind him was a larger one with a crocodile. They definitely
weren't from Mexico.
He lined up a
small pile, then they did a line each. Within fifteen minutes the
conversation got going. No longer strangers, they talked as if
they were friends. Of course, between you and me, it was just the
coke talking, but that's the illusion it provokes. They smoked a
joint, listened to music and before they were done, had talked
half the afternoon away.
left Dude made a mistake. They'd already put their bag away.
They'd been drinking a few beers and Dude wanted them to be safe
for the road.
"Wait a minute,"
he said, "before you go."
He reached into
the change pocket of his jeans. They were tight, and he had
difficulty pulling it out. He removed a small silver pill box. On
the lid was a Jaguar. He flipped it open, then pulled a silver
coke spoon free of his shirt where it had been lying hidden on a
chain next to his chest.
"Here," he said,
"One for the road. It's my personal."
They both knew
what this meant. It was uncut.
He gave them a
one-in-one. When he gave it to Chris, although a normal girl
would have been paying attention to match up her nostril to the
position of the spoon, he noticed she was looking at him instead.
She didn't need to look, she was a pro. Her eyes flashed.
straight home and be careful," he cautioned, "Straight home. This
won't last forever. It'll wear off long before the
Chris said to
the first one, though it was said so soft the first one barely
heard it, a remarkable statement. She said it real smooth, as
smooth as the substance that was languidly dripping down into her
"I'm gonna get
me some of what's in those tight pants" is what she said.
Whatever did she mean?
checked in the rear-view mirror for tell-tale powder marks under
her nose before they drove off.
correctly that she would have her way. How did she know? I guess
it was feminine intuition. Right before they were leaving,
she'd pressed a piece of paper with her phone number into Dude's