by I.B. Holder
Chapter 43 Dope Friend
Blade kissed both of his hands in a tender gesture before putting them to Laura’s temples and messaging in a therapy oil that he’d applied in two small circular dabs. Any more would be far too much, as she was on the maximum dose. He’d found the mixture one of his trips to Mexico. It was dissolved in a cyclohexane solvent that allowed the drug to be soaked in through the skin. The drug itself was organic, but it made librarians into hippies in front of a person’s eyes.
Behavior alteration was one of the secrets to his sex trade. Everyone loved to watch his girls break out of their molds, but what they and the girls never knew was that by increasing the amount of oil that went into their temples, Blue could create a level of initiative, erase the boundaries of what constituted the molds in their sober lives.
“How much have I made you?” She asked in a slur. The drug’s effects were strongest at the point of application. If a drop got on her jaw or lips they became numb. Blue worried for a moment that he’d become careless and would have to postpone the next session.
He hated anything that threw off his timetable; after all, as she reminded him with cliché words, time is money. She was like a taxi ride, where bells dinged and fare accrued.
Laura took the pencil in her hand and lifted it to Blade’s face. He flinched thinking that if she wasn’t so completely under his control, it would end up in his eye, and they’d be in a bloody fight within moments. He knew, however, that she’d become as attached to him, even more so than the other girls. Still there was something that made him uneasy at moments like this, with her wide mirrored eyes training on him and the low husky sound of her breath tickling his ear, it was like he could hear the rumble of a distant thunder, a sound of deception inside her. The sharp tip of the eyebrow pencil drew down the bridge of Blade’s vinyl nose, then playfully around the nostril. Blade almost laughed in earnest, but cleared his throat instead and pulled back.
She couldn’t follow him far, her body was tied down under a web netting of inch wide leather straps. There was nothing on her face, it was naked. Blue thought about how he would wet the straps before the session, and then they would shrink, start to pull, cutting into her soft skin. By the end she would surely be gasping for air with a constricted rib cage and clawing at the individual straps for a relief that would only come with his knife. She would beg for him to pull out his knife. He wasn’t ready to kill her yet, but he foamed at the idea of trying out the scene without cutting beneath her skin. He bristled inside but maintained a kind of hesitant charm in his voice. “I’m so sorry I have to do this, it’s what they want.”
He poured a bucket of water over her body.
“You don’t fool me.” Said the glistening Laura. His eyes were so far away that it was impossible to make out what she’d meant. Blue felt uneasy, so he attempted to calm Laura. He would give her a reward before sending her in front of the cameras.
“You’re past a hundred and fifty million. I think that you’ve become the most expensive single object that has ever been sold.” He told her, looking at his watch and fleeing the room. The broadcast was about to start, and he would be as angry at himself for a delay as he would any of his men. Well, almost.
The control room had a bank of televisions, and it didn’t take him a second to hone in on the one spewing the minutia that penetrated his own interests. He didn’t need to turn up the volume, reading the ticker on the bottom was enough.
Code for choosing co-ed sex slaves broken, TV prime time line up where they get picked. Don’t let your daughters on TV between 4-7 pacific.
