White Cocaine Dress

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: October 14, 2017

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Submitted: October 14, 2017



That Cocaine Dress


The best advice I ever received on how to murder a woman, was to fuck her and never again. It was not love that I wanted from Clarice Wellis. No, it was not love at all, but sometimes following your desires means losing your mind. And the way that woman looked at me made me lose mine.

It was raining outside that night, that late Saturday night at Club Rondalia on Fifth Street. After smoking a blunt in my car on my way into the city, I parked just off Fifth Street with my Chevrolet Camaro and got out in the rain. My Camaro was a car that I use to cherish. But now I just see it as another thing Clarice had loved. I was high as fuck that night. Maybe if I had the means to think clearly, it might have gone differently for me.

Club Rondalia was dimly lit and the place hung thickly with smoke. The shoulders of my coat shone with droplets of rain and my dark hair was soaked through. I looked around the club, my eyes dry and probably looking like a map of the city. The place was filled with men and woman that wore rich clothes and wealthy jewellery around their necks and wrists. The one wallet was thicker than the wallet next to it. I did not care for Club Rondalia’s pissing contests, I avoided them best I could.

Bourbon has always been my preferred choice and my first taste of it liberated me from the shitty day I’d had. Breathing in the scent of my drink, I leaned back against the bar and fished my way through the place. I knew some of the faces that sat back in their seats to laugh with their bought companions, but I had no desire to be acquainted with any of them. Especially not the man that occupied the leather seats to the southern corner of the room.

Jimmy Wellis controlled the supply of cocaine in the city. There was no one insane enough to sell in his market, he controlled every gram of the shit. And it was good shit too. I’d bought some of it that week before from one of Jimmy’s Rastas. Maybe I should not have done that just before having coffee with my mother. She knew... She must know by now.

I have always heard about Jimmy’s daughter. People frequently spoke of the way Jimmy firmly held her beneath his thumb, about how controlling he was. She was apparently beautiful, but men walked circles around her, unwilling to risk their dicks merely because they find her to be charming.

Jimmy’s daughter was like his cocaine to him, another thing for him to completely own.

It was then that I saw Clarice Wellis with her wild, chestnut curls and her cocaine dress for the first time. As if promoting her daddy’s brand, she wore a short, white dress with blood-red buttons down the front. The colour of her full lips matched the buttons perfectly. To me, she looked like a curvy line of cocaine with a drop or two of blood on it.

I do not think I was prepared for the set of grey eyes that stared back at me then. She could not have been older than twenty four, I guessed. Clarice lifted an eyebrow at me, cocking her head to the side as she openly stared at me the same matter I have assessed her moments before.

That bloody line of coke was love at first sight for me the moment a bemused smile touched the corners of her ruby lips. Except I did not live in Wonderland and I definitely was not fucking a woman with the name of Alice. There was no such thing as love to me and love was definitely not what I wanted from Clarice. When she rose from the seat next to her father, I continued to openly stare at her. She was curvier than the normal woman would be but, to me, those hips and full breasts were perfect.

Oh, Clarice, Clarice…

If only I had known that you are a little ray of pitch black.

Oh, but Clarice… Was this your way to show me that darkness can be beautiful too?

She picked up her umbrella and left her father and company behind as she walked towards the exit to the back of the club. I followed her. Maybe I should not have done that. Its moments like these that I once again realise I am the cause of my own troubles. Because that was exactly what Clarice was, the best tasting piece of trouble you would ever put in your mouth.

Once I stepped out of the club and into the rain, she stood beneath her white umbrella and leaned back against the alley wall. She eyed me curiously, tucking a cigarette in between her ruby lips and lighting it. Her eyes held mine the entire time. As she blew a mouthful of smoke away from her, I realised she was not smoking a cigarette.

She took the blunt from her lips and held it out to me, careful to keep it underneath her umbrella. Telling her I was already pretty fucked was not even an option. How could I say no to the young woman that so kindly offered to share her drugs with me? I stepped closer to join her beneath her umbrella and took the blunt from her. A flicker of a smile tucked at her mouth once I took a long, deep pull from the quality the daughter of a cocaine drug lord awarded me with.

“Hi,” I said once I blew out a mouth full of smoke.

She leaned her head against the wall behind her, still holding the umbrella above our heads. Her grey gaze curiously trailed over me before she whispered something to herself.

“Excuse me?” I asked, taking another pull before handing the blunt back to her.

“I said…” she began and placed it between her lips. “That you should take the mask off if you want to talk to me.”

I grinned at that. “I don’t want to give you sleepless nights,” I said and got a face full of smoke in return.

“Do not promise me the perfect monster if he does not truly exist. And, besides, I don’t sleep much as it is.”

“You’re afraid of your dreams?” I asked.

Her smile faded. “Aren’t you?”

I found myself nodding my head to her that night, already being unravelled by the woman I faced. The blunt she handed to me had smudges of her red lips on it and it made me crave the pair of lips that lingered mere inches away from mine.

Oh, Clarice and her white, cocaine dress…

I took the liberty of making sure her umbrella was out of her hands, I wanted her to get soaked by the rain and I adored the way her curls frizzed wildly. Her warm mouth tasted like smoke and liquor and fresh rain, and her wet, white dress looked even more beautiful on the dark cherry leather seats of my Camaro.

With rain loudly pouring down on the car, I found the daughter of Jimmy Wellis sitting in my lap with the blood-red buttons of her dress undone. We were both high as fuck and the first time Clarice laughed out loud, I was completely captivated. I adored her when we were high together. She was the daughter of a drug lord, but I carelessly allowed myself to forget that. It was easy to forget since Clarice was creative in ways I have never even considered.

Oh, Clarice… I would never forget the way you laughed in my car that night. Even once you were naked in my arms and begging me to fuck you thoroughly, you found time for leaning your head back and laughing at yourself. Your sense of humour surprised me every time I saw you, Clarice. It was…dark. The way we both liked it.

Maybe I should not have fucked her that night.

If I had balls back then, I would have gone to her father to tell him that I was in love with her. Not that I was, I only wanted her to sit on top of me with a blunt in her mouth. I wanted her curls between my fingers and her warm mouth moving with mine, but Clarice was the daughter of a man that snapped necks and I had no intention of getting involved in the affairs of the Wellis Family.

I fucked her as thoroughly as she asked me to do. Then she uttered the word “fuck” out loud and collapsed in my arms.

I fucked her again.

But I did not call Clarice the next day as promised.

In fact, I made sure to lose her number to avoid the temptation of contacting her. She was all I could think of every single second of the days that followed. Two weeks later I found myself riding up Fifth Street with a blunt in my mouth. I wanted to see her, I could not get her out of my mind and it was as if I had convinced myself that I would get over it if I could just see her once more.

I walked into Club Rondalia and immediately glanced towards the southern table where Jimmy Wellis sat amongst his friends. Clarice was not with him and it soured my mood. I wanted to see her. Even if she probably hated me now, even if she did not want to talk to me, I just wanted to see her. But she was not there, so I left the club without having a drink.

No animals were harmed in the making of this film, but I could not say the same for my Camaro. The car was innocent in this affair, but essential to the start of the most enthralling time of my life.

When I left Club Rondalia, an ice cold finger touched my spine when a gunshot went off.

I found Clarice leaning against the side of the Camaro with the revolver in her hands. My front tyre now had a bullet hole in it.

So, turns out she was more upset than I thought she would be. Apparently fucking her and not talking to her again was a way to murdering the “independent” woman that she was. I have degraded her and apparently that made women lose their shit.

I fucked Clarice hard for fucking up my car’s tyre.

And she loved it.

I spent the following two days in her bed, apologising for not calling her after I have promised her that I would. There was nothing like a stunning young woman and drugs of fine quality to make you forget time. It might have been the best two days of my life, an escape from exactly everything in my life. I snorted cocaine off every curve of her body and fucked her in every way we deemed possible. I do not believe in guilty little pleasures. If you fucking like something, then fucking enjoy it whenever you can.

The issue of her father came up eventually. Clarice dismissed it and told me her father did not have to know about us.

It did not sit well with me.

But walking up to Jimmy Wellis and telling him that I was fucking his daughter had been a mistake.

I thought he would appreciate my honesty, but he escorted me off his property with a revolver to my head instead.

It did not keep me away from Clarice, though.

I moved in with her, even when her father had forbidden us to do so.

Fuck, I should never have moved in with Clarice.

She woke me with cocaine for breakfast and kissed me good-night with white powdered lips. I realise now that our obsession with each other had never been healthy for either of us. You spoke of being in love with me, Clarice. Is that what love is then? An unhealthy obsession with another human being?

I have always wondered if she was some kind of fallen angel, but I soon realised that Satan had fallen too. Clarice was so damaged that she made hell feel like home to me. I told her I loved her during those hazy days, but I know now that love will fuck you up more than drugs ever will. At that stage she was the most beautiful corner of hell to be in. I did not mind burning for her. Even as I stood in the flames, burning, I wanted more of what killed me, just so that I can feel more alive.

The night I found Clarice on our bathroom floor was the last night I saw her. She was wearing that white, cocaine dress that I had met her in. I got her to the hospital where she was immediately submitted. Her pale skin and white dress was the last image she left me with.

Her father was there within minutes. He already had an envelope of cash at the ready for me. “Go away so that I can help her,” he said and pressed the cash into my hands.

I have not seen her since.

I even went looking for her, but I soon discovered she no longer lived in the city she loved so much.

She fucking left me after she had promised me that we would spend our lives together. She knew exactly where to find me, but Clarice was not coming back.

At some point I had myself convinced that she had been the woman of my dreams and I had completely fucked it up. But today I know that she was never the woman of my dreams, but rather the goddess of my nightmares.

Oh, Clarice, Clarice…

You will always be my muse, even though you have now completely lost your mind. Your father thinks he can fix you but, to me, you are not broken, but rather misunderstood, and quite perfect.

In the end I realised that everyone else was saving themselves. I realised that Clarice had chosen to save herself. My Clarice had chosen to save herself from me

Oh, Clarice, Clarice…

Maybe I do love you.




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