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Fate’s Embrace Ch. 12

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Babes

“I want to try it,” said Jenny the next morning when Joe awoke, her sitting wearing one of his t shirts on his desk chair.

“Try what?”

“Heroin.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do. Just once.”

“And if you like it?”

“You think I’m going to like it.”

Joe sighed. He knew how bad an idea it would be. But if she wanted to try it, she knew junkies. John for one had been suspected more than once of turning people onto the drug. “It’s a really bad idea, Jenny,” he finally said.

“But…?”

“Johnny wanted me to help cop for him. I don’t know if he’ll be there, but let’s go to my old place.”

“Thanks.”

“Not until after work. I worked stoned, but the first time, you’ll probably get sick and will probably be too out of it.”

“After?”

“Short night. Maybe Monday?”

“I guess I can wait.”

“I think it would be best.”

“Sick?”

“People tend to throw up.”

“Oh.”

“Thing is, what it does to you, you don’t even mind.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“How are you?”

“Not as strung out as I could be, but there’s always that desire to get straight.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“Was it better with me than with Gail?”

“Definitely.”

“Cool,” she grinned.

Joe got up and grabbed a towel to cover himself and the two went to share a shower, intimate though not quite sexual, though he did get semi-hard. Soon they dressed and headed uptown.

The door entering his old building tended not to be locked, and it wasn’t, and the two walked up the stairs to the apartment door and Joe knocked. Gail opened it, making Joe think about him gifting the coke gifted to him by the upstairs bartender, but giving Jenny her shot ended that possibility.

“Hey,” she half smiled. “What’s up?”

“Johnny said he might be coming by.”

“Oh?”

“It’s you,” said Greg in a not very friendly way, reminding Joe of his amateur boxing past and his short fuse.

“I’m heading downtown and Johnny said he’d want to meet me here,” Joe explained.

“You just missed him by a couple minutes,” said Margie.

Just then John entered, a skinny blonde just behind him looking as young as Jenny. “I saw you come up the street,” he said to Joe. He didn’t bother introducing the blonde, instead handing Joe some twenties. “Gerry’s downstairs.”

“Okay,” Joe said, getting some cash from Margie and a ten from Gail for coke.

“You should just go,” John told him. “We’ll meet you here.”

“Uhm, okay,” Joe looked at Jenny who nodded.

Downstairs a black Corvette sat parked at the curb, John’s handsome and stylish drummer getting out. “Room for one,” he smirked coolly, so Joe slid in.

A dark haired beauty sat in the driver’s seat, smiling just as coolly as Gerry. “Chrissy,” she crooned in a smoke altered medium voice. Her black dress held what looked like perfect tits for her tall slimness, and plenty of slim legs could be seen below the hem.

“Joe,” Joe replied as coolly as possible, definitely less cool than Chrissy. “Could you head uptown?”

“Why?”

“I have a friend who’s got works.”

“Maybe get some extras?”

“Sure.”

He gave her the address to his Russian friend who, as usual, was there. No surprise he wanted in on the deal. Joe promised to stop by once he’d copped, and Chrissy drove him downtown.

He had her drop him off at fourteenth and Avenue C, figuring coming from the east would be less obvious and told her to meet him on Eighth and First.

“A couple bricks,” Joe whispered to his connection.

“Around back,” the guy whispered back. “One minute,” he added once Joe passed him.

Which caused a dilemma, what to do for a minute in a place he didn’t belong, or more accurately where he belonged too much. After a few strides he crossed the street and headed to the corner where he surreptitiously scanned for cops, but he’d just seen stragglers most likely selling their own wares and turned the corner and entered the dirty, smelly alley, his paranoia making him even more peripherally aware as he headed back towards that burned out space which gave access beneath a building which held the drugs. The back door opened in that building and Joe entered, meeting an older, fatter Puerto Rican.

“What do you need?” the man asked.

“Two bricks and four dimes of coke.” Joe handed him the roll of cash, added to by Chrissy for Gerry.

“Wait here.”

The man walked to the staircase and headed down. Joe leaned against the wall, waiting. The nearby door opened, the Puerto Rican housewife checking him out.

“You again,” she said.

“Sorry.”

She shrugged and disappeared back inside her apartment.

The older man returned handing Joe the bricks of dime bags and the foil wrapped coke. Joe saw the sun stamp on the cellophane bags. Deciding to take his chances, he dropped the drugs into his ubiquitous shoulder bag and exited the building, heading east like he had before, and like before, he passed his Bard friends’ apartment when he headed west, this time not stopping.

Walking north on 1st, the corvette stopped after about half a block and Joe eryaman escort bayan climbed in. After dropping off the dope at the Russian’s place, she drove him downtown. Along the way he handed her the packets of dope and she slid them between her breasts with a wink. He grabbed the works from the glove compartment leaving a couple. When they stopped, Gerry was there, opening the door for Joe, but not in a gentlemanly way, more like “You’re in my spot.” No thanks involved. They drove away as soon as the door closed.

Upstairs, Joe handed out the dope like dealing a deck, leaving two for him and Jenny which he actually didn’t have to pay for since it was part of the deal to get a couple extra for a brick. He handed out the syringes as well, leaving one for Jenny. “Thanks man,” Greg actually said.

“Mind if I use your room?” John asked.

“Not mine anymore, but sure.”

“You want to help me out?”

“Ours are for later,” Joe shrugged. “See ya.”

Jenny laughed when they hit the street. “Respect,” she explained.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the story with the girl?”

“An old groupie from the west coast.”

“Didn’t seem that old.”

Joe shrugged. “But you see what I mean about his type.”

“Yeah, but he respects you Joe.”

“Would you have been interested?”

“He’s sexy and even magical on stage, and kind of sweet, but no, I’m not.”

“What about Gerry?”

“He just looks dangerous.”

“Some girls like dangerous.”

“Why would they look to get hurt?”

“Because they think they deserve it?” Joe answered without being able to stop himself.

“Maybe,” Jenny said quietly. “Maybe for stimulation. Excitement defeats boredom.”

“Boredom is for the unimaginative,” Joe decided. “Unless you’re stuck on an assembly line.”

“I wouldn’t know but I can imagine.”

“You come to curse the slowness of the second hand.”

“Time is a torturer isn’t it. Either too fast or too slow.”

“Speaking of which…” They had at least three hours before work started.

“Let’s just sit in Union Square. I don’t want to be walking.”

“Okay.”

They bought a couple sandwiches from Blimpy’s and sat, people watching. Jenny pulled out a paperback from her backpack which held her uniform. Joe pulled out a notebook and wrote poetry. It was a perfect spring afternoon.

Finally at Max’s, they changed upstairs of “Upstairs,” the performance space, in one of the two backstage rooms for the musicians. As expected, Saturday was a repeat of Friday except even busier and except for John barely making it on time so no serving him as waiter. Thankfully when Joe saw him he looked sober enough if a bit hopped up, cocaine probably the more significant drug coursing through his system.

At the end of the night, his druggy fellow busboy handed out Quaaludes like they were candy. Both Joe and Jenny took one with their gin gimlet, both almost missing their stop, nodding off in the subway. “Hey,” Joe nudged Jenny, and after a bit of confusion she smiled and stood with him and went to the door to await its opening.

In bed they slept like the dead. Joe awoke to a blow job. He tried nudging her for a sixty-nine. “Period,” she told him. But she did straddle his cock. “Okay?”

“Please,” Joe smiled.

She rode him rather aggressively for her pleasure and his too, him cumming about the same time as her. They left a bloody spot on the new sheet. “Sorry,” she said. “I get horny sometimes, and I finally get to sate it.”

“I don’t care,” Joe chuckled. “It was definitely worth it.”

They stripped the bed, Joe shoving the sheet into his canvas bag, and then the mattress pad, leaving the mattress bare.

The water went cold when they shared a shower, but neither minded. It was invigorating.

Joe decided on breakfast at the Kiev in the East Village, delicious French toast using Ukrainian black bread. They headed up to Max’s for their shorter, earlier ending, much less busy Sunday evening. Joe ended up waiting on the last couple tables, the other waiters heading out early because of the slowness. Carol waited for him to finish up the dishes, allowed to stay after closing, Jenny joining her.

“I told her I was on my period,” said Jenny.

“The bed isn’t made,” said Joe.

“I think I can handle it.”

The three caught a cab, Jenny keeping it when it dropped Joe at Carol’s place.

“You stink,” Carol said, pushing him away after an embrace and kiss as soon as the apartment door closed.

Joe chuckled and headed to the bathroom.

She was naked under covers in the bed. Joe moved over her, his enlarging cock pressing on her damp pussy, but after a lengthy kiss, his kisses moved down her body, working her tits for a while along with his hands before making sure her pussy was much wetter. It was dripping from an intense orgasm teased out by Joe’s tongue and fingers. She tossed a condom packet at him. “Fuck me goddamn it!” she demanded.

With a chuckle, he had it rolled on and pushed in slowly until fully in. He pressed there and their pubic bones rubbed while he kissed her intensely. ankara escort She broke the kiss, gazing at him excitedly, her hips shifting back, her hands grabbing his ass cheeks, making her need to be thoroughly fucked obvious.

Her command of the fuck continued, both hands and hip movement creating a slow pace seeming to linger on every scrape of his cock inside her cunt. They just gazed into each other’s eyes, witnessing the manifestation of their pleasure on their faces. Joe’s hands gripped her breasts, fondling as carefully as they fucked.

Gradually, inevitably, she had the thrusts quicken, eventually pulling her legs high, Joe adjusting, moving towards kneeling. When she came, it gave him permission to grab her ass and fuck her hard for the few thrusts that brought him over as well. Only then did they kiss again, much gentler than they had earlier, but an intensity remained of an emotional nature.

“Fuck I missed you Joe,” she told him.

“I could tell,” Joe smirked.

“Asshole,” Carol muttered, giving him a gentle slap on his shoulder. It turned into a nudge, and Joe turned over with Carol turning with him. He made sure the condom remained on when his penis became flaccid and slipped out. She took the condom from him and just left it on the bed while she began kissing down his body like he had earlier, though not lingering on his nipples, until her mouth contained a penis already beginning to harden again.

Once sucked hard, she grabbed a new condom and rolled it on, climbing on top and leading his cock to her hole. She bounced atop him, her eyes mostly closed. His remained open, enjoying the rolling of her tits before gripping them with his hands. Her eyes opened and she tilted her torso lower and his knees rose, giving her tits availability to his mouth. His hands gripped her ass, a finger finding its way inside her anus, taking more command of the fuck until she came, collapsing atop him.

He slipped from beneath her, moved behind her, lifted her ass and shoved back in, one hand on a tit and the other at her clit, fucking her pussy with ever more speed and vigor through another climax of hers and into the buildup of another which happened just as he stilled and let loose inside her.

“Fuck Joe,” she murmured, collapsing beneath him, his hand quickly insuring the condom remained on as it continued containing his ejaculations.

She settled onto her side, sleep overtaking her. Joe removed the condom and grabbed the other, bringing them to the bathroom to flush it. Washing his genitals with a washcloth over the sink, he looked at himself in the mirror, shaking his head. “Joe the stud,” he muttered, half smiling and then shrugging.

Joe had had a similar moment in his life at Bard. Three girlfriends actually, Lindy just ending when he fucked another dancer in the field behind his dorm rather memorably, and then a local girl he met at the student’s watering hole. All three ended rather badly for him, especially the local girl who’d been less amorous than he thought she’d been and she shoved him off her just as he began to enter her, dressed quickly and walked out crying and they never saw each other again.

Would his dick make him a dick again?

“Get up you dick!” he heard shouting him to consciousness.

He awoke seeing the tall redhead standing beside the bed fully dressed looking exasperated.

“About fucking time,” Carol muttered, then grinned all of a sudden, spanking his ass, uncovered by the blanket tangled around him. “Throw something on. We need to go.”

“Right,” Joe sighed.

He’d put his pile of clothes on her dresser when he saw her naked in bed the night before. Almost tripping putting them on made her laugh.

At least she let him drink the warm coffee and the juice she’d poured for him, but was less patient with the bagel. “Just bring it along,” she muttered.

They hurried to the closest avenue to catch a cab and made it to the studio where half the dancers saw them exit the cab together. If Carol had wanted their relationship to be secret somehow, that was ruined, and when she leaned against him and kissed him, even more so. The dancers chuckled.

She let them into the studio. Joe headed to the door to his apartment and opened it. Jenny hid her tits, her body only wearing panties. “Oh hey,” she smiled, her arms dropping. He gave her a hug and kiss. “I missed you,” she said.

“I missed you too.”

“You sure about that?” she asked, putting on her tights.

“Yep.”

“Don’t tell Carol.”

“I won’t.”

“I think I’m going to wait on the dope,” Jenny decided. “Until my period’s done.”

“As long as you want,” Joe told her.

“You prefer if it was never.”

“I do, but…”

“You’re worried I’ll like it too much.”

“I do, but as much as it’s around, as much as your curiosity is peaked and you experiencing it in a way with the opium and seeing me high…”

“I’d rather you be the one to shoot me up,” Jenny agreed. “If I promise not to get strung out?”

“I think I promised myself the same thing.”

“Yeah.”

“Want the rest of my bagel?” sincan escort bayan He’d eaten half.

“Okay.”

He sat at his desk while she finished dressing. She gave him a quick kiss before heading into the studio. He put on the album with the sax player playing to the creaking floor and began to type.

After finishing the revised long poem for Carol’s dance, he worked on the poem with the sonnets and haikus in some sort of weird relationship and decided to type it sideways, thinking about submitting it and maybe some other poems he’d been writing to some magazines. He had a book that listed places for publishing, over a year old so perhaps somewhat outdated the way some smaller publications can come and go, and maybe, like the long poem he had published, it would be the smaller, weirder publications which might be more interested in his unique and idiosyncratic writing. Instead of trying to buy a new edition, he decided to head to bookstores that sold the most diverse magazines to see who might fit his poems.

While at Bard, he’d put together a book of poetry which had two themes, “Them” and “Room” for eventual publishing, perhaps his own, or perhaps it had been more of an exercise generating poems for the book itself, especially the Room part since Them had actually been a long poem which generated footnote poems which he’d seen done by Jack Spicer. Maybe he’d actually try to finally get that one published while sending his newer poems, poems he thought had quality, showed greater maturity, to various magazines.

Sitting on a stool at a bookstore, he copied the addresses of various small publications, buying a couple he liked. He perused the film area and found nothing beyond what he’d already read, Bard being a hotbed of avant-garde filmmaking, his poetry professor, long at Bard, a friend of many of the filmmakers, and Adolphus Mekas a film teacher there, and Bruce Baillie just hanging out in a weird little hut in some woods at Bard, his luxury car parked nearby bought by the funds from creating hugely successful Pepsi commercials.

Instead he bought a Sci Fi book he thought Jenny would like and one for himself that looked interesting. He bought sandwiches for him, Jenny and Carol at a health conscious sandwich place, the kind fond of bean sprouts and homemade wheat bread.

He arrived back fifteen minutes before their break, settling in his office chair after putting on some Eno and finding his file folder with the poems for Them/Room.

The ladies were appreciative of his sandwiches, except both Connie, the Jamaican beauty, and Sue Anne, the voluptuous blonde, had also joined them. Splitting sandwiches ended the problem.

“What are you doing?” Sue Anne asked, boldly sitting on his lap.

“Going through a book of poems I had put together a couple years ago,” Joe explained. “Never published, but I thought about sending it out.”

“Can I see?”

“Sure.” Joe arranged the smaller poems meant for the Room part of the book.

“Why don’t you read them?” Carol suggested.

“Okay,” Joe agreed and brought forth his reading voice, slightly lower than his talking voice, projecting using techniques he’d learned from his brief attempt at acting, working from the diaphragm, lifting the last word most of the time and giving hints of emotionality. It seemed to work, even gaining a couple chuckles from his more amusing poems. He did tend towards the amusing either in his odd observations or being ironic. He managed to entertain until the end of their break.

“Back to work ladies,” Carol announced. Each lady gave him a kiss, Connie on the cheek and the rest on his mouth. Sue Anne, who had vacated his lap but continued teasing him the way she sat on the desk, ended up last and longest, ending with a breathy whisper in his ear, “Let’s do something after rehearsal,” and hurrying out with a giggle before he could reply.

After a sigh, his hardness mostly softened, he returned to the poems, changing things he noticed didn’t work when he read them.

He was typing the new versions when the door opened, Sue Anne sliding through.

“Rehearsal over?” he asked.

“For me,” she giggled, turning his chair and kneeling and working on unleashing his already growing hardness. “At least with them.”

With his help, she pulled down his pants and underpants to his ankles and began sucking his cock, continuing until he came a couple minutes later and swallowing all of it.

Removing his pants and underpants completely, and the socks he wore to keep warm, he lifted her onto the bed and stripped off her leg warmers and tights and panties. “I’m sweaty,” she complained during this, for which he replied, “I don’t care.”

He did taste her sweat and a slight taste of urine when he went down on her, soon covered by her juices his tongue coaxed out, an abundance when he teased her to an intense orgasm.

“Naughty boy,” she breathed, her face flushed, and put her clothing back on. “We have work to do.”

After putting on his own clothes, Joe put on the Randy Newman song, actually towards the end of the previous song, and stumbled through the choreography he barely remembered. She patiently got him back to where they were and even improved his movement with suggestions. The sensuous dance produced the expected results, though only gaining half hardness, his concentration somewhat subduing his libido.

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