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OOM - Toadvine
Mar. 6th, 2018 05:27 pm[Continued from here.]
The drug dealer Cassidy met operated from a fruit and vegetable cart by the side of the highway. He was an affable older guy, mild-mannered with a scar on his brown, weathered brow, almost as if he'd survived a scalping attempt. He sold berries and corn and carrots, and also cocaine and heroin and marijuana and a myriad of red, white, black, and blue pills. Fortunately, he was having a sale today and wanted to unload most of his inventory. Business wasn't so good these days, not since some high end blue meth hit the streets just this side of the state border. He was too small to sell that stuff.
So Cassidy ended up with a big bag of odds and ends. And he couldn't be happier.
The sun was on its way down when Cassidy pulled into the parking lot at the Toadvine Whorehouse. He had enough money left over to keep a room for the evening. The girls charged by the hour, and he was good with that, too.
He laid his entire stash out on a TV dinner table, along with a bottle of top shelf whiskey, and flopped into an armchair by the window. As Mandi set her timer and put it aside on the nightstand, Cassidy indulged in a bit of everything, one after the other, washing it all down with booze. It was great. It was fucking bliss.
The last beams of sunlight streamed in through the window, filtering through Mandi's blonde hair as she lowered herself onto her knees at his feet. She bent down and dipped her head. It was only then that Cassidy could touch her without getting burned.
It was kind of risky that way, him sitting just beyond the sunlight. Just barely in the shadows. But he enjoyed it. She was pretty, with the sun in her hair like that.
He took a deep drag off his cigarette, inhaled some powder off the back of his hand.
She sat back on her heels and lit a joint.
Bliss.
***
Later that night, the room was bathed in the soft red whorehouse lights coming through the curtained windows.
"Where you goin'?" Cassidy asked, pantsless, lounging against the headboard. He reached for the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand and took a swig.
"Oh, don't worry, I'll be right back," Mandi said as she pulled on a pair of pink yoga pants. "I've got a thing to do with Mosie and the girls downstairs. One of our girls-- well, she died. So we're having a little memorial for her."
"Aw," said Cassidy, brows drawn in a frown. "Sorry to hear that."
"She drowned in a septic tank or something."
He blinked. "...Wow."
"Yeah." Mandi stepped into a pair of ballerina flats before putting on a cropped t-shirt. "I mean, you can go now if you wanna? But if you stay, you won't be charged until I get back."
Cassidy considered this, believing this to be the most wholesome brothel he'd ever been to. "Well, since you put it that way, I've no problem with waiting," he replied with one of his lopsided grins. "The night's still young, after all."
Mandi smiled sweetly, and with a flip of her hair, she left the room and shut the door behind her.
To while away the time, Cassidy planted himself in the armchair, shot up again, and did a couple more lines of coke. He soon started to work himself up, cock in one hand, bottle of whiskey in the other. It wasn't very long before the door opened, and Mandi bounced in.
"Got bored?" she chirped, eyeing Cassidy as she peeled her clothes off.
"Nope, just horny," he replied, smiling toothily.
"Well, guess what? Mosie said that in honor of Lacey and her peaceful ways, the next hour's on the house!"
Somewhat incredulous, but liking the idea all the same, Cassidy chuckled. "What a generous way to celebrate her memory," he said.
"I think it's sweet. Wanna listen to music while we fuck?" she asked, a finger already on the play button on the stereo.
"Sure, why not?"
As "Long Way Up" by Jailhouse blared through the speakers at almost full volume, Mandi rocked out, swinging her hair and shaking her hips, before hopping back into bed. And Cassidy hopped right back on her. The bed frame thumped against the wall nearly in time to the beat of the song. Mandi yelled out, gasping, moaning yes, yes, yes, as Cassidy buried his face in her hair and--
Someone flung the door open.
"Eat shit, Clive!"
Cassidy felt something hard come down on his bare ass.
It was a cheerleader's baton.
WHACK
"OW!"
Then on his back.
WHACK
"AHH!"
Mandi cried out, "What the hell?!"
Cassidy ducked and scrambled off the bed, defensively holding up his arms as the blows kept coming. Disoriented, he spun around to shield himself, when he lost his balance. One more crack from the baton across his back sent him reeling head over heels--
--and crashing right through the window.
He landed face down on top of the church van parked two stories below, a large, jagged piece of glass lodged in the side of his neck.
The drug dealer Cassidy met operated from a fruit and vegetable cart by the side of the highway. He was an affable older guy, mild-mannered with a scar on his brown, weathered brow, almost as if he'd survived a scalping attempt. He sold berries and corn and carrots, and also cocaine and heroin and marijuana and a myriad of red, white, black, and blue pills. Fortunately, he was having a sale today and wanted to unload most of his inventory. Business wasn't so good these days, not since some high end blue meth hit the streets just this side of the state border. He was too small to sell that stuff.
So Cassidy ended up with a big bag of odds and ends. And he couldn't be happier.
The sun was on its way down when Cassidy pulled into the parking lot at the Toadvine Whorehouse. He had enough money left over to keep a room for the evening. The girls charged by the hour, and he was good with that, too.
He laid his entire stash out on a TV dinner table, along with a bottle of top shelf whiskey, and flopped into an armchair by the window. As Mandi set her timer and put it aside on the nightstand, Cassidy indulged in a bit of everything, one after the other, washing it all down with booze. It was great. It was fucking bliss.
The last beams of sunlight streamed in through the window, filtering through Mandi's blonde hair as she lowered herself onto her knees at his feet. She bent down and dipped her head. It was only then that Cassidy could touch her without getting burned.
It was kind of risky that way, him sitting just beyond the sunlight. Just barely in the shadows. But he enjoyed it. She was pretty, with the sun in her hair like that.
He took a deep drag off his cigarette, inhaled some powder off the back of his hand.
She sat back on her heels and lit a joint.
Bliss.
***
Later that night, the room was bathed in the soft red whorehouse lights coming through the curtained windows.
"Where you goin'?" Cassidy asked, pantsless, lounging against the headboard. He reached for the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand and took a swig.
"Oh, don't worry, I'll be right back," Mandi said as she pulled on a pair of pink yoga pants. "I've got a thing to do with Mosie and the girls downstairs. One of our girls-- well, she died. So we're having a little memorial for her."
"Aw," said Cassidy, brows drawn in a frown. "Sorry to hear that."
"She drowned in a septic tank or something."
He blinked. "...Wow."
"Yeah." Mandi stepped into a pair of ballerina flats before putting on a cropped t-shirt. "I mean, you can go now if you wanna? But if you stay, you won't be charged until I get back."
Cassidy considered this, believing this to be the most wholesome brothel he'd ever been to. "Well, since you put it that way, I've no problem with waiting," he replied with one of his lopsided grins. "The night's still young, after all."
Mandi smiled sweetly, and with a flip of her hair, she left the room and shut the door behind her.
To while away the time, Cassidy planted himself in the armchair, shot up again, and did a couple more lines of coke. He soon started to work himself up, cock in one hand, bottle of whiskey in the other. It wasn't very long before the door opened, and Mandi bounced in.
"Got bored?" she chirped, eyeing Cassidy as she peeled her clothes off.
"Nope, just horny," he replied, smiling toothily.
"Well, guess what? Mosie said that in honor of Lacey and her peaceful ways, the next hour's on the house!"
Somewhat incredulous, but liking the idea all the same, Cassidy chuckled. "What a generous way to celebrate her memory," he said.
"I think it's sweet. Wanna listen to music while we fuck?" she asked, a finger already on the play button on the stereo.
"Sure, why not?"
As "Long Way Up" by Jailhouse blared through the speakers at almost full volume, Mandi rocked out, swinging her hair and shaking her hips, before hopping back into bed. And Cassidy hopped right back on her. The bed frame thumped against the wall nearly in time to the beat of the song. Mandi yelled out, gasping, moaning yes, yes, yes, as Cassidy buried his face in her hair and--
Someone flung the door open.
"Eat shit, Clive!"
Cassidy felt something hard come down on his bare ass.
It was a cheerleader's baton.
WHACK
"OW!"
Then on his back.
WHACK
"AHH!"
Mandi cried out, "What the hell?!"
Cassidy ducked and scrambled off the bed, defensively holding up his arms as the blows kept coming. Disoriented, he spun around to shield himself, when he lost his balance. One more crack from the baton across his back sent him reeling head over heels--
--and crashing right through the window.
He landed face down on top of the church van parked two stories below, a large, jagged piece of glass lodged in the side of his neck.
