The Gringa

By Hank Manley

Jane Hall has a lucrative job at Amp Automotive, a late model Mercedes E-350 and a new condominium in Florida. Then the factory closes amid the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression.

Following two months of fruitless searching for a job, Jane wanders into the sleazy Bloody Duck Saloon hoping to drown the last sixty days of frustration. She meets the gorgeous Melissa who introduces her to cocaine and explains the economic pricing structure of the narcotic. An idea is born, and Jane decides to solve her financial crisis by become a drug dealer.

Problems arise at every turn. The local street peddler foists Jane on a cop interested only in sex. The Mexican cocaine wholesaler takes Janes savings. Melissa is beaten senseless. The Miami importer invites Jane to dinner and attempts to rape her. She falls in love with a man with the one job in direct conflict to Janes ambition: a DEA agent.

Undeterred, Jane invents the frightening Gringa character who dresses in a sexy Dominatrix outfit and seeks to fulfill her dream of financial independence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 11, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504925945

Hank Manley

Hank Manley has written three nonfiction books on fishing, A Grand Quest, Beyond the Green Water, and Tales of a Life upon the Sea. He wrote the action/adventure trilogy Bahama Snow, Bahama Payback and Bahama Reckoning as well as the thrillers Coral Cemetery, Fundamental Behavior, Vengeance, and The Iron River. He has written one young adult book, A Sea Too Far, and two historical novels, A Legacy of Honor and No Famine of Spirit.

Book preview

~1~

I really need a drink!

Would you like anything special?

What have you got that will wash away the memory of the last sixty days of my life?

The bartender at the Bloody Duck Saloon leaned over the scarred mahogany and looked sympathetically at the unfamiliar customer who had just entered and cautiously taken a seat at the bar.

I don’t remember seeing you in here before, she said. My name’s Vivian. What’s yours?

Jane, the young woman said with a resigned sigh. You’ve never seen me before because this is my first time in your establishment. No offense, but it probably will be the last.

Vivian smiled. That would be our loss, she said cheerfully. So … how do you want to celebrate the debacle of your last two months? Have you ever had a Cosmopolitan?

I think I’ve heard of one, Jane replied. "Didn’t the girls drink them on that show Sex and the City?"

Yes, Vivian said turning to reach for a stemmed cocktail glass. That’s where the drink got famous. May I create one for you?

Jane shrugged. Sure, why not. What’s in it?

Vodka, triple sec, cranberry juice and lime juice.

I guess it doesn’t matter, Jane said indifferently. As long as it works. I’ve never been a drinker. Two beers in college was about my limit or interest.

Vivian appraised Jane anew as she poured the ingredients into a shaker half full of ice cubes. The young woman appeared to be about thirty years-old and perhaps five foot-six inches tall. She was dressed in an expensively tailored, dark gray, chalk-striped, business pants suit. Her cream colored satin blouse was modestly open at the neck revealing a single strand of Mikimoto pearls. The outfit was unusual for the admittedly sleazy saloon tucked off U.S. Highway 1 in North Palm Beach, Florida.

The customer was unquestionably overweight. Her face was plump and pleasant but not strikingly beautiful. Tortoise shell framed rectangular glasses were perched on the bridge of her nose. Her brown hair fell past her shoulders. Uncustomary blue eyes looked back with a surfeit of sadness.

A librarian, possibly, or a paralegal, Vivian surmised as she engaged in one of her pastimes of guessing the occupation of new customers. Obviously it would be something as dull as dishwater.

Ordinarily Vivian didn’t care for heavy women, but there was something vaguely compelling about this person. A certain intangible beneath the surface of the extra flesh hinted at a more dynamic, more sensual human being lurking inside.

Here you are, Vivian said as she set the chilled cocktail on a napkin in front of Jane. Enjoy.

Jane looked briefly at the pink concoction with a lemon rind perched on the rim as if deciding whether or not to actually drink it. This isn’t me, she said almost inaudibly. I don’t sit in low rent gin joints and drink liquor. But Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result, so here goes.

It was fifteen minutes before five o’clock, and the regular Bloody Duck crowd was just beginning to arrive. For the moment, Vivian had time to spend with the new customer.

I almost hate to ask, but why have the last two months been so crummy? she inquired with genuine curiosity.

Jane held the glass to her lips and took an exploratory sip of her drink. It tastes pretty good, she said. Are you sure you put vodka in it?

That’s often the problem, Vivian said with a twinkle in her eye. You can’t taste the vodka. Be careful.

Jane placed the glass on the napkin with exaggerated caution. She reached into her purse and withdrew the classified page of the Palm Beach Gazette. A dozen advertisements in the help wanted columns were circled in bold red ink. Every highlighted paragraph had been subsequently crossed off with an angry ‘X’.

Two months ago I lost my job, Jane said as she pointed to the newspaper. I’ve been interviewing every day since, and I haven’t been able to find satisfactory employment anywhere.

Vivian crinkled her eyes in surprise. You look like a nice girl, she said simply. You sound like you have a good education. Why won’t somebody hire you?

Jane lifted her glass and took another, prolonged sip. One word sums up my problem, she said with unvarnished bitterness. I’m overqualified.

Overqualified?

I have an undergraduate degree in chemistry and a master’s degree in electrical engineering, Jane said without braggadocio. I was in charge of the research department at the NexGen Battery Company in Georgia when they were acquired by Amp Automotive.

I’ve heard of Amp, Vivian said as she smiled at the inaccuracy of her guess at Jane’s profession. They built that big factory out on the Beeline Highway west of town about three years ago. They were building an electric car.

That’s right, Jane said. They built a big factory and had about five hundred employees. I was in charge of the electrical systems for the automobile. She punctuated her remark by taking a long drink of her Cosmo.

What happened? Vivian asked with sincere interest. I haven’t heard anything about Amp in a while.

They closed down the whole operation two months ago, Jane said. Sales were pitiful. The car was a shoebox and only got about 100 miles on a charge. The list price was over $40,000, but the dealers had to discount it heavily to move cars. The company was losing about $5,000 for each unit sold. I lost my job along with everybody else.

It sounds like you had a wonderful job, Vivian said with unadulterated admiration.

Jane pushed her empty glass across the bar. "It was a wonderful job, she said nonchalantly. I did it well. I was able to increase the range of the car by almost 20% and reduce the charge time significantly. The last year I made $215,000. Now I’m going broke."

Vivian’s jaw dropped noticeably. The salary figure was startling. I … I’m sorry you lost your job, she finally managed. Noticing Jane’s empty glass, she reached out and pulled it closer. Would you like another?

A previously missing glitter sparkled in Jane’s cerulean eyes. Yes, she said without hesitation. I’ll have another. Her voice carried the nascent lilt of intoxication.

But what else do you recommend for my glorious celebration. I’ve been turned down for fifty jobs in the last two weeks. Nobody’s hiring top level executives, especially women. The only thing available pays $12.50 an hour and can be performed by a retarded monkey.

Vivian’s experienced ear immediately recognized the rapidly increasing effect of the alcohol. Are you sure you want another? she cautioned, inexplicably feeling a maternal affection for the overweight stranger. Maybe you should go slowly since you’re not accustomed to drinking.

Jane smiled beguilingly. I’m sure, she said. I’m positive, in fact. But first how about a shot of tequila? Doesn’t everybody do that to get the engine revved up quicker?

Vivian nodded her head and turned to the mirrored back wall of the bar where rows of liquor bottles resided on glass shelves. If you’re going to drink tequila, at least drink a good one, she said. Otherwise it’ll be ‘to kill ya’. Here, have a shot of 100% agave.

Jane lifted the shot glass and looked inquisitively at the liquid. No worm? she asked with disappointment.

No worm, Vivian said. That’s mezcal. Take a sip.

Jane put the glass to her mouth and dumped the entire contents down her throat. Her face scrunched in apparent agony, and then she licked her lips and smiled. Wow. That has a nice burn all the way down.

Do you still want another Cosmo? Vivian asked.

Yes, please, Jane said. I’m starting to feel a little less sorry for myself. I like this new sensation. I never cared much for self pity.

Vivian mixed a second Cosmo while Jane looked around the room. A smattering of male customers sat at several tables, and she watched, enthralled, as a curious custom was twice enacted. Leering men handed their waitresses money as they ordered drinks, purchasing the sleeveless Bloody Duck T-shirts from their backs. The topless girls then walked to the bar and returned with the order, proudly displaying their naked breasts.

Jane shook her head and smiled with amazement. She never would have imagined that such puerile behavior took place in a bar. Had her life been so sheltered?

Her brief survey of the male customers revealed none that appealed to her. The indifferent reaction wasn’t a surprise. Her experience with men was minimal and the transitory encounters had been universally unsatisfactory.

A young woman passed through the door and walked casually toward the stool five places away. She was blonde and slender. Her shorts rode low on her hips and stopped high on her shapely legs. Her blouse was open an extra button exposing the tops of her creamy breasts. A small expanse of flat stomach was momentarily visible when she mounted the bar stool.

Jane reached for the fresh Cosmo and took a hurried sip. Her mouth felt dry, and she recognized the familiar magnetism that often gripped her in the presence of a young, attractive, concupiscent female.

She lowered her head toward the bar top and squeezed her eyes closed, willing the rapidly mounting sensation to disappear.

Jane was an extremely ascetic person. Her ability to control her emotions and maintain discipline and focus had served her spectacularly throughout her life. Since childhood she had devoted herself almost exclusively to her studies.

Dating and participation in sports in high school had been avoided. In college and graduate school she had held multiple jobs to pay for her tuition while maintaining high honor roll grades. There had been almost no time, and little inclination, for parties, sports and social activities. Anything besides studying had been shunned as interference in the pursuit of her engineering degree.

But the combination of her recent unemployment, the maddening inability to find a meaningful job, and the certain knowledge that her finances were rapidly evaporating with her new car payments and mortgage on a recently purchased condominium, had inexorably chipped away at her normal philosophy of life. The addition of several ounces of unaccustomed alcohol loosened the tight grip on her self restraint. Her Weltanschauung was undergoing a rapid transformation.

Jane was not capricious, but she gulped another ounce of her Cosmo and made a decision. She suddenly, desperately, wanted to hold someone, anyone. More significantly, she wanted to be held. She wanted … she needed … to matter to someone. She wanted to look into someone’s eyes and see feeling and caring.

The blonde at the bar was beautiful. She radiated sensuality. Jane was unquestionably turned on physically. Most germane was simply that the blonde was sitting a few stools away and ostensibly available.

Vivian, she said brightly, opening her eyes and lifting her head defiantly from the bar top. Would you please send that girl a shot of tequila on me?

"That girl?" Vivian asked with a knowing wink. Her years of experience watching people rarely failed her when guessing the sexual preferences of her customers. This time she had been completely fooled. The new customer liked women!

"That girl, Jane said with a grin. But first pour another for me."

~2~

J ane watched out of the corner of her eye as Vivian placed a brimming shot glass in front of the blonde. The girl’s head turned with curiosity when Vivian indicated Jane as the benefactor of the small gesture of largess.

The blonde immediately looked in Jane’s direction and moved her right leg as if to dismount the stool. Her eyes scanned up and down, taking stock of Jane from head to foot. Her leg paused and then returned to the rung. She remained seated. The young woman raised the shot glass in mute thanks for the gift and brought the drink to her lips.

Jane’s heart rate jumped when the blonde initially appeared ready to join her at the neighboring stool. Her silent disappointment was profound when it became obvious the girl wasn’t leaving her perch.

There must be a logical reason for the girl’s hesitation, Jane thought rationally. The young woman must be shy. What other explanation could there be for her reluctance to leave her stool?

Jane bravely seized her shot glass and Cosmo and slid off her seat. Without hesitation, she strode toward the obviously bashful blonde and sat on the adjoining stool.

Hi, she said cheerfully. My name is Jane; Jane Hall. I saw you sitting alone and thought perhaps we could visit for a while. I hope you like tequila.

Jane lifted her tequila shot and held it beside her to facilitate a toasting of glasses.

The blonde hesitated and then tentatively touched her shot glass to Jane’s. My name is Diane, she said in a neutral voice. Thanks for the drink. The entire contents of the shot glass disappeared down her throat in a single, practiced motion.

Jane managed to gulp half her drink, fearful of displaying another inexperienced reaction to the alien liquor.

Do you come here often? Jane asked kindly as she swiveled her hips on the stool to face the blonde.

I’m here a couple of nights a week, Diane said in a dispassionate voice. Her timbre indicated an indifference to further conversation.

This is my first time at the Bloody Duck, Jane said happily, oblivious to Diane’s gentle rejection. I was driving home and thought I’d stop. I was looking for something very different.

Oh.

Yes, Jane said, surprised at her sudden loquaciousness. Was it nerves? Surely the one Cosmo and the one tequila shot—well, one and a half tequila shots, couldn’t be responsible. I’ve had a really bad day. I had six job interviews and … and nothing. Nobody wants to hire me. So I just said ‘screw it; I’m going to get a drink’.

Fascinating, Diane said coldly as she signaled the bartender. Hey, Vivian. How about a vodka and tonic? Make it Grey Goose.

Jane sat back on her stool and blinked in disbelief. Stunned by the blatant rejection, she reached out and placed her fingers on Diane’s bare arm. Don’t you want to talk to me? she asked plaintively. I thought we might be friends. I think you’re really beautiful.

Diane remained silent as she looked askance at Jane’s intruding hand.

Jane withdrew her arm and lowered her eyes in abject embarrassment. She realized immediately she had completely humiliated herself. I’m so sorry, she said. I … I’m never like this. I’m never out of control. I hope you can forgive me. I’ve behaved like a first class jerk.

Diane turned her head and looked at Jane. Don’t worry about it, she said with a trace of genuine sympathy. You’re just not my type.

Jane raised her head and pursed her lips in question.

I’m a fitness instructor in town. I’m attracted to girls who are fit and in shape, Diane said without rancor. Most people feel the same way. You just don’t do anything for me. If I’m going to sleep with someone, I want them hot, sexy, and passionate. You’re … you’re heavy and plain.

Flashbacks to her school days flicked through Jane’s mind. Hey, it’s Plain Jane, classmates called out as she walked down the corridors between classes, her hair hanging straight and dull, her chubby cheeks devoid of definition, no smile separating her unadorned lips.

Look, it’s Jane the Brain, the boys hollered as they briefly stopped their games in the school yard to tease Jane as she climbed the steps to the library.

Jane slid her legs from the stool, grabbed her Cosmo, and retreated, head down, to her original place at the bar. She couldn’t remember feeling so defeated in her life. She looked across the bar and found her reflection amid the maze of bottles on the mirrored wall. Between a quart of Gordon’s gin and a tall, skinny bottle of Galliano Liqueur, Jane found her face.

Her visage was certainly not unattractive, but her puffy cheeks and full jowls rendered her so unremarkable that she couldn’t deny the veracity of anyone applying the sobriquet of plain to her face.

Jane looked down at her body. Her bespoke suit fit perfectly, covering her large frame uniformly and neatly. But there was no denying her portliness. Her breasts were almost nonexistent. She was big, too big she decided. Her shape could best be described as tubular. She wanted to be curvaceous. She was not sexy. She was not appealing, and she wanted to be both things. I can’t even get laid looking like this she lamented, and then laughed at the irony of the pathetic situation.

At that instant Jane Hall decided she would lose weight and reinvent her body into a fantastic, sexy and strong frame. She had no doubt she could achieve her new goal. She would simply direct the discipline to her body that she had previously applied to her mind.

Vivian, she called in a determined voice as she finished her Cosmo and set the empty glass on the bar. I’ll have another one of these.

***

Jane struggled to tug her underpants from her ankles back into position around her copious buttocks. She attempted to smooth her suit with uncoordinated swipes of her hands and then flushed the toilet. She reached for the scarred plywood stall door and unsuccessfully pushed three times to open it before realizing it swung inward.

At the porcelain sink, rust stained by hard water and undoubtedly a plethora of other unmentionable fluids, Jane opened the hot water handle. Nothing flowed. The cold water initially hesitated and then spurted once, splashing brown liquid on the front of her blouse before slowing to a trickle.

She removed her glasses and pulled a course paper towel from the rack hanging precariously on the wall. She dabbed it in the splatter of water emanating from the faucet, pressed the moist wad against her eyes and then looked in the cracked mirror.

What am I going to do, she thought desperately? I have to find a job.

The outer bathroom door burst open and slammed against Jane’s derriere.

Oh, sorry, the intruder said. Vivian sent me in here to check on you.

Vivian? Jane repeated dully before remembering the bartender’s name. Oh, yes. Vivian. That’s nice of her, but I’m okay.

My name’s Melissa, the girl said. And you’re definitely not okay.

Jane squinted her eyes to better focus on Melissa before she realized her glasses were clutched in her hand. There, that’s better, she said as she managed to replace her glasses without poking out an eye.

Melissa was dressed in tight jeans that clung to her shapely legs. She wore a sleeveless T-shirt that said GIRLS RULE BOYS DROOL in two lines across her prominent breasts. Her auburn hair was cut short and parted on the side. She had applied only minimal makeup on her lashes and lids and a hint of red on her sensual lips. Jane immediately thought she was gorgeous.

No, really, Jane said. I’m fine.

Melissa looked directly in Jane’s eyes. You definitely are not in any condition to drive home. Why don’t you let me drive you? Nobody wants to see you get in an accident and hurt yourself or anybody else.

Jane realized Melissa was right. She was in no shape to drive. If she was stopped by a policeman and lost her driver’s license, how would she get to her interviews? If she somehow found a job, how would she get to work?

I live pretty far away, Jane said. My condo is out in Wellington. Maybe I should just call a taxi?

I live right around the corner, Melissa said as she appraised the inebriated young woman. In spite of her portliness, the smartly dressed girl possessed an intriguing appeal. Melissa found herself curiously drawn to the stranger.

I was thinking we could go to my place, she offered gently. Maybe you’d like to party.

Jane wrinkled her forehead in confusion. You want to take me to a party?

Melissa smiled brightly and then released a hearty laugh. It was obvious the girl wasn’t accustomed to drinking. Now it seemed she was unfamiliar with cocaine.

Oh, girl, Melissa said with a broad grin. You certainly appear to have a lot to learn.

~3~

M elissa unlocked the door to her apartment. She bowed ceremoniously with one arm outstretched to allow Jane to enter ahead of her. She snapped on the overhead lights which revealed a small but neat living room with an adjacent dining area. A tan, three cushion couch, flanked by a pair of wing chairs, faced an enormous Samsung flat screen television hanging on the wall. A neat galley kitchen resided beyond to the left. A hallway entrance opened to the right.

This is a nice place, Jane said as she stood wavering on her feet. You live here alone?

Why don’t you have a seat before you fall down, Melissa suggested. Take off your suit coat and relax. I’m going to change into something more comfortable.

‘Kay, Jane managed. I’ll jus’ have a seat on the couch while you … while you … The rest of the sentence seemed too daunting to finish. Jane closed one eye and reached out for the back of the nearest chair to steady herself as she negotiated her way to the sanctuary of the couch. Once seated, she removed her jacket and looked down at her blouse. Ten hours of captivity inside the suit, a splash from the toilet sink, and half a dozen stressful interviews, had left her top wrinkled, stained and clammy.

Melissa promptly returned. She was dressed in a black silk kimono adorned with red hearts that barely fell to the middle of her thighs. When she sat on the couch beside Jane, the garment climbed precipitously toward her waist. In her hand was a tiny Ziploc bag of white powder.

Jane looked at Melissa and immediately felt her heart begin to pound. The kimono revealed taut legs, shaved smooth beyond where they disappeared into the filmy gown, and firm breasts that strained the tiny cord loosely holding the garment around her waist.

What’s that? Jane asked as she fought to remove her eyes from Melissa’s body and pointed to the small pouch now sitting on the coffee table.

Melissa looked curiously at Jane. You’re putting me on! You really don’t know what that is? she asked.

Is it cocaine? Jane asked with a befuddled shrug. At NexGen Battery and Amp Automotive, she knew many of her co-workers utilized cocaine recreationally. She had heard smatterings of stories about the drug that occurred at various parties she had not been invited to attend. Talk around the office often contained veiled references to cocaine, the recent price, the supply situation, the current quality of the drug. She had been told some of the employees used small amounts of cocaine throughout the day to maintain their energy levels and focus. I’ve just … I’ve never seen it before.

Wow! Melissa exclaimed. Well, maybe it’s time for an introduction.

Oh, no, Jane amended proudly. "I have seen cocaine before. I saw a rerun of Scarface the other night on TV."

Melissa smiled silently. She opened the Ziploc and with a small, flat bladed utensil, scooped out a tiny portion of the white powder. She held it up to Jane’s face.

Inhale this, she said gently. It’ll make all your troubles go away.

Jane looked momentarily stunned. She unconsciously backed away. Is it safe? she asked sincerely. Will it hurt me?

No, darling, Melissa said with a slow shake of her head. Here; observe.

Jane watched with fascination as Melissa held the bump of cocaine beneath her nose. With her free hand, she pressed an index finger against one nostril and inhaled the powder sharply into the other.

Melissa’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as she wiped two residual flecks from beneath her nose and placed them on the tip of her tongue. Awww … she sighed as she blinked three times before opening her eyes wide and allowing a satisfied smile to cross her mouth.

Jane stared with total absorption at the ritual. The thought of doing drugs had never entered her mind. She had honestly loved the pursuit of her studies in high school and college. The taunts and rejections of her classmates had hurt, but she had convinced herself they were inconsequential to her goal of obtaining an advanced degree and securing a challenging career.

The past two months had eroded much of her confidence and shaken her belief in her continued happiness. She feared she might never find a good job. Pouring through the help wanted ads, searching for jobs on line, driving from fruitless interview to fruitless interview, always alone, without the modicum of companionship offered by fellow workers when she was employed, had rekindled her suppressed feelings of seclusion and isolation.

Jane desperately wanted a friend. She could possibly want a lover. She might even be persuaded to try cocaine.

Jane fought to stifle her lingering trepidation. She had always prided herself on her self control. She hated the thought of losing her grasp on reality. But the idea of shedding her worries for a while and feeling good was intriguing. Let me have some, she said in a breathy whisper.

Melissa placed a caring hand on Jane’s shoulder. You want a bump. That’s how you say it.

I want a bump, Jane repeated dutifully.

Don’t worry, Melissa said sincerely. I won’t let you hurt yourself. Just take one bump for now. This is good stuff. It hasn’t been cut very much. It’s 80% or 85% pure.

Jane closed one side of her nose and sniffed the dollop of white powder up her open nostril. She flinched as the cocaine invaded her body. She batted her eyes several times. For a few moments she experienced nothing unusual, but then a wave of happiness built in her mind. The feeling grew stronger, and Jane became more euphoric, as if she had received unexpectedly marvelous news such as a job offer of $250,000.

What do you think? Melissa asked gently as she watched Jane’s reaction to the cocaine. How do you like it?

Jane’s shoulders shuddered, and she rubbed her hands together. It’s … it’s really nice, she said with wonder in her voice. I feel … I feel really energized. Is that normal?

Reactions vary with different people, Melissa cautioned. Often cocaine will nullify some of the effects of alcohol. You should feel better than when you were just drunk.

I do feel better, Jane admitted. She looked in Melissa’s direction and momentarily resisted the temptation to gawk at the girl’s toned body before her inhibitions finally melted. She reached across the couch and tugged gently on the cord securing Melissa’s kimono. The garment opened and the girl’s surgically enhanced breasts burst free.

God, Jane panted. You’re beautiful. Can we …?

Sure, but it might be easier if you took your clothes off, Melissa said with a laugh. Let me help you.

Jane hesitated. She desperately wanted to make love to Melissa, but she was embarrassed to disrobe. She was flat chested. Rolls of flesh circled her stomach. She glimpsed Melissa’s exposed pubic area and noticed it was devoid of hair, unlike her own hirsute condition.

Melissa reached out and began to unbutton Jane’s blouse. Don’t worry, she said. I’ll teach you anything you don’t know.

Jane reclined against the couch pillow and felt her body tingle with anticipation as Melissa removed her top. With deft fingers, the experienced girl unsnapped Jane’s brassiere and placed delicate kisses on her breasts. Her tongue circled the tiny areolas and gently flicked the distended nipples.

Warmth flooded Jane’s head and she momentarily feared she might lose consciousness from the strength of the erotic ministrations.

Let’s get those pants off, Melissa said as she unfastened the belt around Jane’s waist and pulled at the zipper.

Jane shed her shoes and watched through hooded eyes as Melissa slid her pants down her legs and tossed them on the floor. Her full size underpants followed.

Melissa looked askance at the copious mound of hair between Jane’s legs. She playfully entwined her fingers in the tangled pubic patch and laughed. I could knit a sweater with this fleece, she said. Don’t you know hair down there is so passé these days?

Jane’s face reddened. I never thought about it before, she said nonplussed with embarrassment.

Melissa’s fingers worked their way between Jane’s legs and began a gently stroking motion. Lay back and enjoy, she said. It’s my turn to have some fun.

***

Jane rolled over and stared at Melissa’s reclining figure. She had just experienced the best sex of her life. Her previous encounters were limited to a handful of unsympathetic men and a few selfish women, but she knew unquestionably that Melissa had brought her to heights of ecstasy rarely achieved by anyone. With each orgasm, her heart had pounded uncontrollably in her chest, her throat had become desiccated, and she had panted deeply for several minutes until her breathing returned to a semblance of normalcy.

Jane reached out and gently stroked Melissa’s bare hip. She wasn’t tired. She wanted to talk. She had questions. Her energy level was high. Are you asleep? she whispered.

Melissa rolled over to face Jane. A sly smile spread over her face. Happy? she asked.

Blissful, Jane replied. But I have a ton of questions. Do you mind?

And then you probably want to vacuum the apartment and polish the silver—if I had any.

I do feel like I could handle an hour of housework, Jane laughed. Is that part of the cocaine experience?

Feeling an increase in energy is normal, Melissa said. It usually lasts and hour or more.

How much did I ingest? Jane asked. Her analytical mind turned to the mechanics of her initial foray into the use of cocaine.

You had a bump, Melissa responded. It was just a small fraction of a gram, maybe one third of a line, and a line is about a tenth of a full gram.

How do you buy it? Jane asked. By the pound?

Melissa laughed. A pound is almost half a kilo, she said. Here in Florida I’ve heard a kilo probably costs about $24,000, maybe more. I buy it by the gram, and a gram of good stuff costs $100.

Jane’s eyes burst open with amazement. Two point two pounds of cocaine costs $24,000? she gasped. That’s … that’s unbelievable.

Melissa shrugged. I don’t know anybody who has ever bought a kilo, she said. "Everybody I know just buys in grams. A gram is good for about ten lines,