Chapter 3

Bart Jagger counted his money for the fifth time and sipped his drink. The liquor was middle quality stuff, but. he had a feeling he'd be buying something better in the future.

It was getting late, and he had heard the heavy tread of Arnold Towers a half-hour earlier as the man went down the hall and out the door. Cathy was in the bathtub, apparently trying to wash away the stink she'd never lose.

Bart kissed the money and put it away in a drawer in his old, scarred desk. There was a light tap at the door, and he sat down before calling, "Come on in, Cathy."

She looked different. There were black circles under her eyes already, and he knew she had been through the grinder. Well, that was a good thing in a way. The sooner she learned the worst of it, the sooner she'd be able to take things in her stride. And for the money Towers had paid, he certainly had a right to do whatever he wanted with her.

"Well, now, that wasn't so bad, was it, honey?" he asked. It was fun time again.

"Bad?" She looked at him blankly for a moment, then put her head in her hands and looked down at her bare lap. "I didn't know anything could be so bad," she said.

"No? Well, I'll tell you something that's a lot worse, sweets. Going cold turkey is worse."

"Yes, I-I guess so."

"You'd better guess so, baby. Unless you want to try it, just to be sure."

He stared at her for a long moment, but she didn't say anything. "I guess if you thought it was all that bad," Bart said drawlingly, "you won't want to be doing any more of it, huh?" He waited. Finally, she answered.

"No. I won't do it any more. Not ever."

Bart laughed, with no attempt at hiding the meaning of his laughter. "Okay," he said. "Never let it be said that I tried to force a girl to do what she didn't want to. But you'd better find another source of income, Cathy. That's all I've got to say. You're going to need it, with the habit you have."

She shifted in her chair, and then, finally, looked at him. Her eyes were full of tears. "Please. Isn't there any other way I could make the money? Anything else I could do for you? I'll work. I'll do whatever-"

"It's up to you how you get the money, baby. All I'm interested in is getting what I've got coming. There won't be any more credit for you. I told you that. Not unless you want to stay on the old payroll. In that case, I could see my way clear to carry you, knowing that you're going to be able to pay me back." He looked at her for a long time, waiting for some answer. "Well, you think about it," he said finally. "The right way to look at things is this: you're better off than you were before. You've found a way to feed your monkey. And it's good, honest work. You're an entertainer. Guys want pleasure, and you furnish it for a fee."

Suddenly she came to her feet and rushed to him. Bart turned his swivel chair around, and she went down on her knees before him. "Please!" she begged. "Oh, please, Bart, don't make me do this any more."

"I told you, honey, I'm not making you do anything. Not anything at all. It's entirely up to you." He felt desire surge up in him. She wasn't a virgin any more, he thought. She wasn't something to be hoarded now. A slice off a cut cake wouldn't be missed by anyone. And he had her where he wanted her. The thought made his cock stand up. Reaching down, he took both of her hands in his and pulled her to her feet, then tugged her forward onto his lap. She sat there stiffly, obviously apprehensive. She knew he wanted to screw her, of course. And, he thought, she was so right. He let one hand drop lightly to her bare thigh, as though it had happened inadvertently. She stiffened a little more, and one tiny hand raised as though to push his away. But she stifled the impulse. She didn't dare piss him off. The feeling of power over her made his prick all the harder, and he knew she could feel it under her ass.

That's for you, sweetheart.

He put his left arm around her, circling her back and shoulders, and pulled her against him. "Now, I want to get things clear, baby, once and for all. I'm your friend, Cathy. Right now, the only friend you have that counts. Do you know anyone else who could get you the stuff you need? Or who would be willing to?"

"No." Her voice was a tiny murmur.

"Of course not. I'm the only one. Now, I've given you credit, and everything. Now I can't afford to do that any more. You'll have to pay for what you get. Either payment on delivery or very soon afterwards. As I said, I don't care how you get the dough, baby. Just so you have it. I'm offering you a way to get it, of course, and if you want to take advantage of that way, fine. It's a nice safe way. Safer than trying to stick up a drugstore or peddle yourself on the sidewalks. But, as I said, it's up to you." Bart raised his hand from her thigh and laid it over her breast. She jerked with surprise, but she didn't try to pull the hand away. She sat very still.

"Now," Bart went on calmly, "the decision is yours. You don't have to decide right now, of course. Take your time. Think it over. Right at the moment, you're all depressed, and I can understand that. You know what you need?"

"What?" she asked suspiciously.

"A fix. You need an extra little treat to cheer you up."

"A fix? But I can't afford it right-"

"Don't worry about that, baby. We'll put it on the tab. Get up." She rose from his lap and stepped back. She looked doubtful, of course, worried about running up her bill. But she was a junky. And Bart had been around junkies enough to know how they would act in any given situation. He went to the wall safe and got out the horse and the needle. He set about preparing the shot for her while she looked on. Finally, he brought it to her. She raised her arm for the shot.

"I don't think we should keep giving you shots in the arm, baby," he said. "People start noticing the holes."

"Oh. Well, where-"

"Hike up your dress and bend over." She looked more worried than ever, but her eyes kept slipping back to that needle. She looked like a starving waif who had been asked to do something naughty in return for a square meal. Finally, she turned her back on him, hiked up her dress and bent over. Bart came up behind her and pulled her panties down, revealing the cheeks. She let out a little gasp, and he was amazed she could have kept that much of her modesty after what she must have done for Towers, and what she had done for him. Bart laid his hand on one cheek of her ass and pinched the flesh into a little mound. She was smooth and round and the feel of her made his cock as hard as iron. He moved his hand around, making little mounds in different places, as though looking for the right place to give her the shot. Actually, he was just having fun.

Finally he put the point of the hypo close to the fleshy mound and held it there for a moment, then plunged it in. Cathy made a quick, startled sound at the entry of the needle, and her body jiggled delightfully. Bart held the needle still for a moment, then began to press the plunger slowly. He dragged it out for a long time, letting the heroin seep into her bloodstream very gradually. He could see her body relax as the drug took hold. She was getting that pleasant, euphoric feeling that always came over a junky right after a fix. The dumb little bitch didn't know she was just letting herself down deeper into his power by taking an extra shot. She was making the monkey bigger, and pretty soon it would be so big she wouldn't have a chance in hell of ever getting free of it, or of him.

He pulled the empty needle out of her ass. A little drop of blood appeared, and he wiped it away with a tiny bit of cotton he had laid on a nearby end table. He held the cotton there for a moment, and when he took it away the blood had stopped. He couldn't even see where the needle had gone in.

She stood up and let her dress drop into place, then, as though the thought had just occurred to her, she pulled it up again and adjusted her panties.

When she turned to face him she smiled in a vacuous way. There was a touch of embarrassment in the smile, but she was beyond caring about anything very much now. She looked at her watch.

"I've got to go," she said. "My parents are going to be worried about me."

"Now, you don't want to go home, honey." He took her in his arms and pulled her against him. She felt delightful. He had waited for this a long time. All the times, right after a fix, when any man could have had her, he had been tempted. Now he didn't have to fight off the temptation any more.

"Oh, yes, Bart," she said. Her words were a little slurred from the horse. She leaned against him, her tiny body weaving with the unsteadiness of the drug in her veins.

Bart tipped her head back and kissed her on the mouth. She had started to say something, and he caught her mouth open. She didn't react at all at first, then, slowly, as though remembering her manners, she gave him her tongue. Fifteen minutes before she would have been stiff as a board, but now, with the heroin in her, she was too far gone to worry about things. He let his hands move over her body, relishing the warmth and softness of her, and she giggled softly.

"No, you don't want to go home," he said again. "You can take care of your old man and old lady later. They trust you, don't they?"

"Yes," she said, and giggled again.

"Sure they do. So there isn't any reason why you shouldn't stay here a little longer. You and I are friends aren't we, honey?"

"Uh-huh."

"Of course we are. I just did something friendly for you, didn't I? I just gave you an extra fix on credit. Now you can do something to show how friendly you are towards me. You don't mind that, do you?"

"Well, I-"

"No, of course you don't." He kissed her again, and started leading her toward the bedroom. She came along reluctantly at first, then with more readiness, as he kept talking to her. "You want us to stay friends, don't you, dear? You want me to go on trusting you, and giving you your little treats when you need them. Sure." He kept up the steady mill of words as he led her toward the bedroom, and she came along more quickly now. She was still going further under the heroin, and what she had already done for Towers had stripped away much of her innocent girlishness.

The bedroom was dim, and he left it that way, not bothering to turn on the light. It was a nice, womblike darkness, the kind that would give a junky comfort and confidence. She wasn't going to refuse him, of course. That was a foregone conclusion. But the darkness would help to soften any resistance she might still have left in her, resistance that could be stimulated by a sudden glare of electric light.

"Just sit here on the edge of the bed, Cathy," he said soothingly. She sat down with the obedience of a zombie, and he went down on his haunches in front of her. He put his hand on the underside of her thigh and ran it down over the crook of the knee and the calf to her ankle. She giggled again, and when he looked up at her she smiled stupidly. He took off one of her shoes, then the other.

He got up on the bed and began to unbutton her blouse. She sat there like a child being undressed for bed, offering no objection at all. He felt the excitement grow in him. This was prime young stuff, something a lot of guys would give a week's pay to snuggle up to. And she was sitting here without letting out a peep while he undressed her.

The blouse slid off of her shoulders, and he went to work on the bra clasps. She didn't react to that, either, just sat there while he opened them. Bart wondered if he had given her too much horse. He didn't want a dead fuck on his hands.

The bra came off of her easily. She held out her arms to let him remove it. Her tits were really great. He looked at them in the dimness, then cupped one lightly. She just smiled at him, and he squeezed the soft, warm mound and felt his cock grow painfully hard. He pulled her to him and ran his mouth over her face, then kissed her. She obligingly let him have her tongue. He ran his hand over her hair, delighting in the clean, soft texture of it, then slipped the hand down between them and felt one of her tits again.

"I think we should get rid of that pesky skirt now, baby, don't you?" he asked in her ear. She giggled again, and got shakily to her feet.

"You want me to?" she asked slurringly.

"Hell, no. Don't ever let it be said that Bart Jagger wasn't enough of a gentleman to undress a girl." She giggled. The giggle, he thought, was the main article in a junky's vocabulary. He tugged her zipper down and let the skirt drop around her ankles, then looked at her for a moment before removing her panties. They came down easily, and she looked just a little embarrassed to be naked in front of him. But she didn't try to turn away or hide herself. Her pussy, all blondeness and beauty, stared back at him boldly while she giggled again.

He reached out and placed his hand on her abdomen, then let it slide easily down over the hump to the tuft of hair. She shivered delightfully, and he felt her box spread a little to accommodate him. One thing about junkies, he thought. They weren't a whole lot when it came to desire, but they didn't have many inhibitions, either. He slid his fingers over her cunt with enjoyment, and she shivered again and put her hand over her mouth to stifle another giggle.

"Come here," he said, his voice dry and cracked. He felt the spit dry up. His arm circled her hip and his hand closed on the cheek of her ass. He pulled her to him roughly, without gentleness or preamble, and she fell against him, then sat down hard on his lap. She sat there looking at him, her face a little vacant, the smile empty in her eyes. He delighted at that look of hers, hyped up on junk, unable to care what he did to her. She wouldn't be so calm about it later, of course. She'd hate herself when the junk wore off, but right now she was defenseless because she was unable to worry about anything.

He laid his hand on her thigh, working his fingers in between, and slid the hand upward until his fingers were pressed between her thighs, high up near the crotch. She sat there, looking vacant still, and just a little embarrassed. She giggled again. He pulled her close to him, and, circling her neck with his free arm, cupped one firm, fragile breast. It was warm, and it filled his palm nicely. He felt her nipple slowly harden as the handling she was getting from him seeped through the barrier of the junk and started to turn her on.

She tilted her face up to him, and he kissed her, covering her mouth with his and working his tongue in. He made the kiss long and deep, and she warmed toward him. The lack of inhibition helped her to turn on under circumstances that would have had her in hysterics without the junk.

He felt his cock pressing up against her now, so stiff it hurt,, and he laid her back on the bed, her legs hanging over the side, and then he got up.

He undressed as quickly as he could, trying to get the job done before she lost some of the glow he had managed to build in her. Of course she was still floating along on the horse, but the nice little sexual fire he had managed to build in her was something extra, and he didn't want to lose it. She watched him stripping, and giggled every once in a while. She giggled when he stripped off his shorts, and she saw his cock, sticking out in front of him like a spear.

Bart went to the bed and lowered himself onto it. She was still lying there with her legs dangling over the side. She didn't have the ambition to get the rest of the way on the bed and turn around to lie along the vertical line of it. He pulled her around, and she cooperated.

He couldn't wait any longer. He had planned to make it last, but there wasn't any need to, really. She was hooked, good and hooked, and he would be able to have her as often as he wanted. Right now, he was too turned on to hold off any longer.

He took her in his arms, circling her body, and kissed her breasts, once on each tit, and then he lowered her to the bed again. He placed himself between her thighs, working them a little apart, and she spread them wide for him, being as cooperative as a junky could be. She looked up at him with mild, vacuous interest as he placed his cock in her slit and fed it into her a little, then pushed it in hard. He let out a grunt of sudden pleasure as the cock pushed in, spreading her. She was red and sore down there, and it probably would have been painful for her if not for the heroin pumping through her veins. She made a little wincing motion, but that was all.

Then they were locked together. He slid his arms around her upper torso again, cradling her, and lay there atop her, not moving yet, just enjoying the connection of their bodies. This was a moment he had waited for a long time. He wasn't going to let it pass too quickly.

Finally, he began to work his hips slowly, moving his cock through her and creating a tingling friction that widened the smile on her lips and made his own loins tighten with pleasure. He gave her a few strokes and then stopped, just keeping his cock in her for a while longer, hard and big, filling her tight channel, and her arms moved around his neck, holding him close. There was no real passion in her, of course. As dreamy as she was, that would be too much to expect. But she was feeling pleasure in their connection, and that was going to make it nicer for Bart, of course.

He moved his mouth over her forehead and into her hair, inhaling the cleanliness of her with delight while their hips began to move again, slowly, tantalizingly, spreading pleasure up into Bart's loins. His breathing was becoming short and quick and ragged.

Her tiny hands moved over his back and neck and shoulders, her fingertips playing over his skin lightly, and he felt his cock go stiffer inside of her, stronger and bigger and harder.

He knew it wasn't going to hold off much longer now, and if he wanted a good ride out of this fuck, he had better get with it. He began to work his hips a little more rapidly, thrusting into her with greater force. The pleasure in his loins built up quickly, becoming intense and exquisite as his cock slid through her like a ramrod, faster and faster.

Cathy gave a little moan, a sound deep in her throat that was hardly more than a gasp, as the pleasure began to penetrate the fog she was in. Her arms tightened about his neck a little, pulling his face down against her own, and he felt her lips brush against his cheek. She wasn't exactly turning into a fireball, but of course he hadn't expected her to.

His own pleasure had reached a peak of intensity by that time. He felt the pleasure bite through his vitals sharply, almost a spin in its strength, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold back his come much longer.

He drove into her with all his force, and she let out another little moan of pleasure, louder this time. Her arms tightened more about his neck, and then he felt it boiling up in him, the come, and he held it back for just another half dozen thrusts before it flushed out through his cock, flooding hotly into Cathy's body.

He had worked himself up fast and to a fever pitch of desire, and the pleasure was intense, exquisite, almost painful in its strength. Bart let out a grunt followed by a cry that was answered by a less urgent sound from Cathy. He accelerated his thrusts, driving into her a few more times, and then it was over.

He felt weak and spent with pleasure, sated, completely satisfied, with a great lassitude moving over him. He lay atop her, his weight directly on her tiny body, and listened to her breathing heavily. He could feel her heartbeat. His own body was covered with sweat.

Finally, he got off of her and lay on his back for a while. She stayed where he left her, and after a few moments he heard her crying softly. He looked over at her and saw the tears glistening on her cheeks.

The horse was starting to wear off a little. She wouldn't need a fix until the next day, but she was already getting over the dreamy, half-conscious state she had been in since right after the shot. Her conscience was coming awake again, and she was beginning to feel it bite at her mind. Well, he thought with a grin, he really couldn't blame her for that. She had come in here a virgin, and now she had been fucked by two men, and had sucked at least one of them off. And maybe both of them.

But the tears weren't encouraging. She could be on the verge of a crying jag, and he had to get rid of her before she did that. He didn't want a sodden, tear-streaked junky on his hands.

"Get up," he ordered. He said it quickly and curtly, flinging the words in her face like a glove. He had found this kind of treatment was often the best when it was necessary to get a junky moving , in this situation. It was a shock to them, and it jarred them out of their own minds. Besides, they all liked someone to tell them what to do, even though a lot of them didn't know it at first. It was part of the junky personality.

She got up on the opposite side of the bed and looked at him uncertainly. He suddenly felt like fucking her again, or having her blow him, but a glance at the clock on his bedside table told him it wasn't a very good idea. Her parents were probably already worrying about her, and it wasn't safe to get the folks wondering all at once. They trusted her, which was handy, but they'd have to get used to the idea she was staying out later.

"Go in and get cleaned up," he said. "Hurry up about it. And get your clothes on and come into the front room."

She was there in a little while. Her clothes looked better than he had expected, especially since they'd been left on the floor. It was a little thing like that which could start parents thinking.

She looked at him from under lowered eyelids, her face guilty-looking. "I guess I'll be going home now, Bart," she said. "I want to thank you for-"

"Sure, sure," he said. "Now, I know you've decided not to do any of this again. But if you should change your mind and decide you need the dough, I want you to call me before you come up here. You understand?"

"Yes." She didn't even try to assure him she wouldn't be coming back. That was good. She was beginning to catch on. She was beginning to accept her new place in the scheme of things.

And that was healthy for the new business firm Bart was starting.