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Another Shitty Monday

As quickly as the day came on, the show ended. Fly out of bed and into the red car, leaving the blue one for Elsie (I'll hear about that later), dodging in and around traffic, hurling epithets, dodging others. I arrive at the meeting, and the dream ends. The sweat breaks out, I feel cold. I find the nearest bathroom and close the door in the corner stall and sit and shake. This was a bad idea, a real bad idea; I listen and no one is coming. I gather my courage, and leave the stall, stopping at the sink to splash my face. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be anywhere. I should be in bed for hours still. Gotta call Greg. He'll know what to do. Fuck, no answer. The new fangled technology is only as good as someone being on the other end to pick up the phone. Then I remembered, there was a fix taped under the desk in my old cubicle. When I moved, I forgot all about it. Hmmm... Who was there now. Oh shit. That kinky bitch I ran out on when she brought out the toys. And things had been going so well up until then. Fine dinner, good wine. Nice conversation too. Who would've thought she was a total dominatrix, a spiked corseted librarian as it were. I know lots of other guys who would've gone for it--at least they boast that they would have--but not me. I like my girls quiet and contemplative, smart and reserved, with just a hint of quirkiness not some full blown need to make a man scream.

So I needed to get that works from under her desk without her noticing. And how do I get her away from her desk without being noticed in my cold sweat state? How long had it been, anyway, since I taped it up under there? At least three weeks. It should still be good though. That was some pure shit, filtered fine. An almost perfectly sterile solution. Just thinking about it got me to twitching. I wonder what she would do if I just walked in, dropped to my knees and crawled under the desk. Hmmm.. she would probably drop her panties. Oh, yeah, she didn't wear any. Would that be so bad? Make like an office interlude while I fidgeted with my free hand for the dope? "Hmmph, my dearrph, what a lophely muffin."

She'd probably try to run her chair over my hands or stick her stilettos into my shoulders while holding on to my ears. The queen of pain, she was. I never told the other guys about her and I don't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. On the one hand she might have liked to be the office bitch, ruling every man she came across. On the other, she might have come after me with a vengeance for letting her little secret get out. Brad my boy, you got no balls. Ah, well, what the fuck. The last brave act of the desperate.

"Cindra" I said, leaning against the wall to her cubicle, flashing the casual charm that I reserve for my clients, all the while hoping the sweat was not returning to my brow.

She looked up at me and I disassembled before her. All pretense was gone. That cold stare made me want to drop to my knees and crawl over to her. "I'm so sorry I didn't let you whip me! Waah!" But of course that would never happen.

"Brad", she said coolly, "I didn't think I would see you again. Not voluntarily, anyway. Changed your mind, have you?" She turned around in her chair to face me, and slowly uncrossed and recrossed her legs.

The knot in my throat was almost too large to swallow. An uncontrollable swelling began in my trousers. Fuckin' thing. A mind of its own. If this was an office and not a cubicle, I might have been tempted to close the door behind me and let her have her way. But I was in a weakened state. At this particular moment, the entire world was having its way with me.

"Well, actually Cindra, I have a favor to ask of you. After the way I ran out on you before, I wouldn't blame you if you said no, but this is suited to your, err, particular talents, I believe." I am brilliant. This was coming out of nowhere.

"Go on," she purred.

"Well, Chuck up on the fourth floor is having a little party right now, something of an impromptu celebration. You see, he's getting married this weekend, and well, I um, thought, that um, you could go up there, and um." What a surprise this was going to be for Chuck.

"Yes?"she said unfalteringly.

Fuck it, maybe I'm not so brilliant.

"Scare the living piss out of him" I finished.

"I'll get my things," she said. "I keep a set in my car. You never know when..." She left the sentence unfinished. She was just about to brush by me. Her closeness made me tremble, or maybe it was the withdrawal, it was hard to tell. She put a hand on my tie, and very gently straightened it. I swallowed hard.

"Didn't you have this cubicle before me?" she asked.

"Why, yes, I um did." I stammered out.

"Hmmm..." was all she said before she walked on by.

I let out a big sigh as my casual lean turned into a slump. Downtrodden and dirtied, I got on my knees and crawled under the desk. I felt around. Fuck! Where was it? As I banged around under there, frantically, I didn't hear her come back in. I heard a desk drawer open, I looked behind me and saw those perfect legs, the ones that got me into trouble in the first place. I banged my head on the way out, and sat there rubbing my noggin as I stared up at her. In her hand she held my syringe.

"Looking for this?"she asked.

There was no reason to lie.

"Yes." I said, beaten.

She tossed it to me, turned and walked out. She had one on me. And she was going to make me collect sometime. I just knew it. But I couldn't care about that now. Not when I had a cylinder of golden glory to get busy with. I gave it the once over. The cap was secure. Everything looked good.

So I carefully put the spike in my pants pocket, careful to arrange it so the plunger would not move as I walked. I was feeling the sweat build up on my brow. My insides churned as I made my way to the bathroom. I was going to have to hurl as soon as I got to the can. And probably a wet shit too. Fuck, this sucks. But relief was on the way. I quickened my pace.I almost collided with Bob as I turned the corner in my haste.

"Brad, my boy, how's it hanging?" he asked, feigning complicity.

"Limp and leaky," I mumbled as I kept moving. I felt the bile begin to rise.

"Don't be a stranger. Come on up to the party. Chuck's having a little bash..." He kept talking, but I stopped listening. The bathroom door was blocking out the last of his banter. I didn't have time for a stall check, I just leaned over the closest sink and let it out. Bright orange bile with the consistency of snot. That's how it is for me, when I drink too much and eat too little. Plain pickled liver juice. I felt the cramping begin. I quickly chased down the vomit as I splashed my face and headed for the corner stall. I felt a little better, but knew that in a few short minutes I would be feeling a lot better. This time I did a stall check and fortunately all were empty. I barely got my pants down as the contents of my bowels exploded into the bowl, splashes of mixed elements spattering my ass. Another violent eruption followed by a steady stream of ass piss. I leaned against the side of the stall, moaning softly. Fuck, why do I put myself through this all the time. I wiped my ass and legs and took a moment to redress myself, letting the anticipation mount. I lowered the lid and sat back down. I pictured Elsie screaming at me as she has in the past, while I took my time arranging our shots. A smile spread across my face.

Okay, now for the real fun. Finding a vein was no real problem for me, I didn't even need to tie off like so many of my chipping friends, although I think I have passed the chipping point and become a full on addict. I didn't like the way that sounded in my head. There was a dirty connotation about it. But if I felt it was dirty, then why did I continue to do it? Habit, necessity, who knew, but it has gotten to the point that I need to fix daily or I get sick. This little episode was nothing compared to last week after that long run with Elsie. Her connection was the best, and when that ran out, we both went through living hell for a week.

The needle goes in with only a slight bit of pain. I have come to like that little prick. I feel the difference between the piercing of flesh and vein and know that I have the spot. Just to make sure, I draw back a little and the comforting billow of blood backflowing into the barrel confirms the target. I don't go slow. After all I have been through this morning, I want it. I push and I push hard. Blam! What a rush.

I barely removed the rig from my arm before the first wave hits. First came the instant relief in my body, from my restless legs to my sweaty head, rumbling bowels and stomach. I felt back to normal, but for just a second. Then came the second wave. A rush of euphoria and warmth so complete, I was in heaven again. It felt like an eternity since I was there, but in reality was only two days, but it was good to be back. Then came the third wave. Disenfranchised panic, from far away. I had done too much. This was a double shot; I had forgotten how potent this mix was. That beautiful wave started to crest. I was on my board riding it in, hanging ten on the crystal waters, big kahuna style. I felt the black cloak behind me as I have countless times before, mostly when I fucked with coke, but this time he seemed a little more persistent, his boney hands resting on my shoulders. At least he knew how to ride and wasn't throwing off my balance. That's right, lean, lean, move your balance forward, ahhh.... the perfect wave. Big crescendo, but the momentum stopped and I fell, hard, onto the cold ceramic floor of the 3rd floor men's room, no one to hear the last gasp of the futile.

At least my pants were up.

by Dan Tillson © 2001
Last Modified: 13 January 2004