A Twist in His Sobriety 
JJS Harshaw

Feedback appreciated at: jjsharshaw@yahoo.com

(MF F+FF cons rough drugs)


"Hey man, why don't you go dance with her?"

He fixed the bartender with a mock look of 
exasperation, "Do I *look* like I have any rhythm?"

"Now that you mention it, no you don't but damn man, 
I'd get some to dance with her."

"You know her?"

"Nah, but she's in every Friday night and I noticed 
her the very first time she came in."

"Does she always dress so modestly?"

The bartender laughed, "Man, she's dressed like a nun 
compared to most Friday night's!"

"Give me another Jameson's, neat with water on the 
side."

He leaned against the bar, lit a non-filtered Camel, 
and watched her dance. Her "nun's habit," a red floral 
print sundress that rode high on her thighs, 
accentuated her long legs. The peasant neckline, 
pulled down off her shoulders accentuated her elegant 
neck; strong collar bones and led to the beginnings of 
her sloping, full breasts.

The bartender arrived with the drink. Jack McCloud 
nodded toward her on the dance floor, "How tall you 
figure?"

"Ummm, 5'8", 5'9", in her bare feet. I'd say in those 
heels she's probably 6 even."

As the night progressed he stayed at the bar, slowly 
sipping his drinks and smoking - and watching her.

He marveled at her abandon. She'd dance with anyone; 
man, woman or any combination thereof.

She came to the bar for a break. She sat six stools 
down. He thought what the hell; buy her a drink. He 
waved his new friend, the bartender, over.

"Whatever she's drinking, tell her I'm buying this 
round."

The bartender smiled conspiratorially. He went over, 
took her order then pointed at Jack. She followed the 
bartender's gaze, saw Jack, smiled a slight smile and 
nodded.

When her drink came, a gin or vodka shot, she held it 
up in a salute to Jack and downed it in one swallow. 
She turned the shot glass upside down and slammed it 
to the bar and then wiped her lips with the back of 
her hand.

And then she was back on the dance floor.

She was dancing with a pair of women.

She gathered her long blonde hair - a thick mane that 
was damp with sweat - with one hand and held it off 
her neck. With the other she raised the hem of her 
dress, exposing a tiny thong.

To the throb of the music she did pelvic "scoots" 
against the leather-clad thigh of the most masculine 
of the pair. The leather-clad lady's partner nuzzled 
the blonde's throat and not to subtly rubbed and 
fondled the woman's breasts.

What Jack found intriguing was who was looking at 
whom.

Jack got the impression the leather lady would have 
fucked her thigh-humper right then and there.

The leather lady's partner was nuzzling, fondling and 
now kissing the blonde and looking at the leather lady 
in obvious lust.

The blonde had locked eyes with Jack.

Jack took a mental snapshot: Sweat trickled down her 
long, lean face to her throat where it moved on down 
in rivulets to the top of her breasts. There it snaked 
under the fabric to form wet stains under her breasts 
and on to her belly.

She was nothing short of exquisite, thought Jack. But, 
all good things must come to an end. Jack took a look 
at his watch and gave the bartender his credit card.

The blonde caught a glimpse of Jack settling up but 
then her attention was drawn back to the blood 
heaviness of her cunt from aggressively rubbing 
against the leather-clad dyke. The dyke's partner was 
doing a great job of groping her.

A few more minutes of this she thought and she would 
need some release but Fiona Davis of Pacific Palisades 
was wondering about Jack. The man who bought her a 
drink but never tried to come on to her or dance with 
her.

He looked so out of place among the "beautiful 
people." The "beautiful people" were there to be seen. 
This guy was an out of towner she decided.

From the Midwest she guessed.

Not a businessman or some sort of executive. No, she 
thought, he was some sort of specialist. She smiled. 
He had that vaguely geeky look about him.

But he seemed so calm in this strange environment and 
he was clearly there to play the voyeur.

Fiona was not paying attention to her dance partner. 
The dyke quickly closed distance with her, putting an 
arm around the small of her back and pulling her 
chest-to-chest with her.

The beat picked up and the dyke's partner had her 
breasts and belly glued to Fiona's back, kissing and 
biting her neck and shoulders.

The dyke produced a large, black strap on from her 
pants and Fiona felt the material covering her sex 
pushed aside by insistent fingers.

Fiona let out a loud moan as she was penetrated and 
then the dyke rakishly pulled Fiona's dress down to 
expose a full breast with large areoles and nipples 
and attached her mouth to one of Fiona's nipples.

A wave of pleasure spread through her body and for a 
very few seconds she felt like surrendering to the 
assault of her dance partners. She was soooooo 
near...But damn it! The man had just disappeared from 
sight.

She wanted him.

* * * * *

Jack gave the valet his claim check and suddenly Fiona 
was standing at his elbow.

"Where are you staying?" she asked casually, as if 
they had spent the evening together and she just 
hadn't gotten around to asking.

"How do you know I'm not an Angelino?" He was somewhat 
surprised but cool. And being nonchalant with this 
woman was a huge struggle; her raw beauty and her 
physical stature stunned him. Her face was still 
streaked with sweat and her dress was plastered to her 
in several places.

"Oh," she gathered her hair again and pulled it off 
her neck letting the night breeze cool her, "you have 
that Midwest tourist look about you. Besides, I club a 
lot on the Strip. I would have noticed you."

The car arrived. He stepped off the curb and looked 
back at her as he walked to the door. Her face was 
passive but her eyes caught his. He was trying to 
figure out the look and if their eye lock was having 
the same effect on her as it was on him.

"Besides, this car looks like a rental."

He tipped the valet and looked back again. She had 
moved. Another valet was opening the passenger door 
for her.

Her scent - fresh sweat, cigarette smoke mixed with 
her perfume and the perfume of her last dance partners 
plus the unmistakable aroma of female musk - filled 
the car.

"Uh..."

"You were going to tell me where you are staying." She 
smiled.

"The Luxe Summit Bel Aire. And you?"

"If you want me, I'm staying with you. If you don't 
you can drop me off in the Palisades."

"Uh, ok."

He pulled the Mitsubishi, rented at LAX, into the 
night traffic of Sunset Boulevard and headed for his 
hotel. They drove in silence.

She broke the silence after a few blocks.

"Aren't you curious as to how I would have noticed you 
or do you think I'm just kind of nuts?"

"I'm curious but I think I'm afraid of the answer."

She laughed.

"First, you're not that attractive."

His eyebrows rose; so much for her feeling the same 
about him as he did about her.

"Uh, no offense..."

"None taken. I think."

"Well, all the 'beautiful people' go clubbing. They 
want to be seen. We are just so vain, you know. 
Hollywood and all that shit. But you...you're not a 
salesman. You're some sort of specialist or 
technician."

"Uh, as a matter of fact, I am; I'm a software 
specialist."

She threw her head back and smiled triumphantly.

"Mind if I smoke?" She was already reaching for her 
cigarettes, lighter in hand. He reached for his pack 
and turned to her lighter as she lit up.

"Guess not." She smiled and winked coyly at him as she 
slowly blew out a pungent blue cloud of smoke.

* * * * *

They pulled into the circle drive of the hotel and the 
valet opened her door.

She bestowed a smile upon the valet. "Good evening, 
Enrique."

"Good evening, Mrs. Davis. Will you be requiring a car 
later?"

"No, Enrique. My friend will see me home."

"Very good, Mrs. Davis."

Jack stopped and stared.

"May I have your keys, Mr. McCloud?"

"Huh? Oh, oh, yeah."

She was looking at him. She was gauging his reactions 
and she was pleasantly bemused by it all.

She took his arm to walk into the hotel as if they had 
been a couple all their adult lives.

Once in his suite, she flounced on the sofa; he leaned 
against the door.

"Uh, what's going on here?"

"What do you think if going on here? By the way, my 
name's Fiona. I live just up Sunset in the Palisades. 
My husband's name is Walter. He's in Brazil right now. 
Corporate lawyer."

"Uh...?"

"I asked you what you thought was going on here. It's 
3'ish. The night is young and full of so many 
possibilities."

She took out another cigarette and lit up.

"Aren't you going to offer a lady a drink?"

"Yeah, uh, sure." He pushed his back and shoulders off 
the door and went to the mini bar. "What's your 
pleasure?"

She laughed and slowly blew smoke into the air. "I 
take pleasure in many things. I thought you were 
getting me a drink though."

He looked at her, differently this time. "You don't 
boil rabbits when you get pissed off or spurned, do 
you?"

She laughed, "Mrs. McCloud make you watch 'Fatal 
Attraction' before she let you on the road?"

"Three times. Jack's the name. Jack McCloud. Her name 
is Vicki. She's in Kansas City right now. Homemaker."

"Ah," another cloud of smoke, "I was right about the 
Midwest."

"Uh...ok. Bourbon?"

"Sure, straight up. Mind if I get comfortable?"

"Not at all."

As he poured the bourbon, she stood up and pulled the 
sundress over her head and shook out her hair. No bra; 
the tiny thong. She kicked off her heels and sat back 
down in time for him to hand her the drink.

"Thank you. You are one cool guy; I don't seem to have 
gotten you with my outrageous behavior or my naked 
body. Jesus, you're not gay are you?" she asked in 
mock horror.

He held up his wedding banded finger. "Vicki, 
remember?"

"Well, she could be your beard, you know."

"Yeah and you could have a cock bigger than mine 
hiding under that thong you know."

She looked introspective for a moment. "Touche. Wanna 
find out?"

Without answering, he got up and stood before her. She 
looked up at him, her finger rubbing the rim of her 
glass, watching for a sign.

She gasped quietly when he pulled a large folding 
blade knife from his back pocket. He opened it with a 
flick. Her eyes were now riveted to the blade, her 
voice was flat, "Uh, you don't have a thing for ice 
picks in bed do you?"

He didn't answer but bent down and ran the flat of the 
blade quickly over a nipple, around her breast and 
down the small, soft curve of her belly and up along 
her hip.

She drew in a breath; held it. "How in the hell did 
you get that thing past airport security?" she asked 
with breath held and teeth clenched at the waves of 
pleasure the cold blade were spreading through her 
breasts and belly.

He looked into her eyes. He put his index finger to 
his lips to indicate quiet and smiled slightly.

With surprising quickness he slid the blade under the 
cord of the thong and cut it neatly in two.

And that was it.

He went back to his seat, laid the open knife on the 
table, lit a cigarette and picked up his drink. After 
blowing out his first drag he smiled at her, "You're 
not the only one with kinks here. And no, I don't do 
ice picks in bed, but do you think Sharon Stone ice 
picked Michael Douglas in the last scene of 'Basic
Instinct?'"

Her voice was slow, she locked eyes with him, "I think 
they fucked like minks and then she soooo ice picked 
him - and, rubbed her breasts with his blood and then 
had a massive orgasm."

"What?" he laughed, "Are you trying to out kink me?"

"Hey, I am the jaded Angelino. You're the guy from 
Oz."

"Take off your thong now that I've opened it up. Let's 
see the goods, bitch."

"Bitch? Bitch? Why did you call me bitch?" She stood 
and pulled the thong off exposing a neatly shaven 
mons.

"Because you appear to be randier than a three balled 
tomcat but to call you the veterinarian name for a 
female cat in heat - queen - doesn't really sound 
erotic, you know?"

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, I see your point. You like to talk 
dirty to a woman? Demean her while you're fucking her, 
right?" She sat down again, legs spread provocatively.

"I like to talk dirty but I get no pleasure from 
demeaning a woman. If you don't like it, I won't do 
it. Giving and receiving pleasure is both a need and 
an ecstasy."

"Shit, you're quoting Gibran to me? You're awfully 
literate for someone from Kansas City."

He held up his glass to acknowledge her backhanded 
compliment. "Hey, I even know how to cipher, multiply 
by 8's and do long division."

"You're not a 'double naught spy' are you?" picking up 
on his reference to Jethro Bodine of "The Beverly 
Hillbillies."

"No. But you need to remember that Jethro was from the 
Ozarks in Missouri and I am an urbane Kansan."

She smiled; she liked this little repartee they had 
going. "I'll make a note. Oh, damn! Nothing to write 
with."

She reached for her big bag that she carried and 
fished a black lacquered box out of the bag, opened it 
and laid it on the coffee table between them.

"I like little pills. Sometimes needles. Oh," flicking 
a brown suppository with her finger, "and I have these 
little beauties made by a dealer down on Rampart; 
Mexican brown heroin. Rectally. Very nice buzz.

"I like to get fucked up and have very rough sex." Her 
last statement she meant to get a rise out of him; it 
was time to get high and fucked up or go home.

They held each other's gaze for a long moment. Then 
suddenly she broke the gaze, got up from the sofa, 
grabbed her dress and her drug box and headed for the 
bathroom.

The door closed.

He sat for a moment wondering what the hell was going 
on. He smiled, took a sip of his drink, picked up his 
knife and headed for the bathroom.

He slammed the door open. She was back in her dress, 
downing a couple of pills. She flashed anger at him.

"Hey cocksucker, it's rude to break in on a lady in 
the bathroom!"

He advanced on her without acknowledging her anger. He 
grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her to face the 
mirror. Grabbing a terry cloth belt from one of the 
robes in the bathroom he looped it around her throat 
and snugged it firmly under the line of her jaw, 
pulling her head and neck back against his chest and 
shoulder.

He whispered in her ear, "Do you know that with very 
little pressure from this position, I can cut the 
blood flow in your cartotids and you will go out like 
a light?"

She nodded her head slightly her eyes staring at him 
through the mirror.

He reached down to the box on the counter and pulled 
out a glass tube with a needle attached.

"A hospital tubex of Morphine? For all your appearance 
of wild self destruction, you are a little bit careful 
aren't you?"

She gave a small embarrassed smile and whispered yes.

He pulled the cap of the needle off with his teeth and 
plunged a small amount of the drug into the air.

She gasped.

"Have...have you done this before?"

He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled deeply. 
"Mmmmmm."

"You...you...you're very literate for someone from the 
Midwest," she whispered. Suddenly she felt afraid but 
suddenly she was also very excited.

"You've mentioned that a couple of times now. I'm 
running out of clever retorts." Jack's fingertips came 
slowly across her chest and she shivered in his hold. 

"Sorry. Guess I shouldn't piss off the guy who could 
strangle me without a lot of effort, eh? And that felt 
nice."

He slid the belt a little lower down her throat and 
retightened. Her carotid arteries quickly showed blue 
and were distended and throbbing.

"Eyes in the mirror, Fiona. There's going to be a 
stick."

"Oh, no, wait! Please! I've never shot up in my neck!"

She looked panicked to herself in the mirror but she 
didn't try to resist and she watched with fascination, 
almost as if she were out of her body, as he brought 
the needle to her neck and stuck her.

He slowly pushed the plunger.

"Oh...sweet Jesus...that's, that's so..." a veil was 
descending across her mind as the drug almost 
instantaneously hit the pleasure receptors in her 
brain. Her eyes went glassy and her eyelids fluttered.

Jack smiled and felt his erection grow even more as he 
watched the bliss over come her in her eyes. Her mouth 
sagged a bit and a little spittle ran down her chin 
and hit her chest.

The sensation Fiona was feeling was so sublimely 
exquisite. Jack didn't exist, nothing existed and it 
felt absolutely marvelous.

When Jack removed the needle, blood pumped in a tiny 
arc from the artery, splashing on her dress.

Fiona saw it in the mirror but couldn't form a thought 
except to think that the blood running down *that* 
woman's throat and onto her breasts was so erotic.

Jack put the syringe down and twirled her around to 
face him. Suddenly reality imposed itself and she 
thought she might pass out.

"Fiona, Jesus, you're bleeding." For a brief moment 
she worried through the narcotic bliss that *she* was 
in over her head. His tone sounded so psychotically 
casual to her.

Her gaze drifted to Jack. She noticed again the little 
arcs of blood.

"That's, that's me?"

"Yeah. We'll take care of that in a minute but first 
we have to get you out of this dress."

"Uh...o...k..."

He used the knife to make a slit in the collar line 
and then he ripped the dress the entire length. Again 
she was naked though looking ravaged with fresh blood 
glistening down her throat and onto her breasts.

"That's my dress...my dress, uh, Jack..."

"You really think Sharon Stone ice picked Michael 
Douglas and rubbed his blood on her breasts? Something 
like this?"

He rubbed the fresh warm blood across her breasts, 
thumbing her nipples and feeling the wonderful heft of 
them. Then he took her hands and had her rub herself.

"Oh...oh...god...Jack..."

"Fiona, you're starting to drool."

He licked a path up from between her breasts to just 
below her jaw line opposite the little pumping needle 
wound. Her blood was salty and a bit metallic tasting.

"You know, if you have any blood borne diseases, I'm 
really screwed.

"Here," He pressed a wet wash cloth to the site on her 
throat, "hold this tightly. It'll stop the bleeding."

"Jack...goddamn...I...I've never, uh, 
felt...Jesus...this way uh, before. And...Uh...I 
really," she closed her eyes and concentrated on the 
intense feelings that the drugs and Jack were causing, 
"I really, you know, insist on being, uh... fucked 
bareback, so uh like...we'll be...uh...even."

He now had another washcloth and was slowly, gently, 
cleaning her up, her ass leaned against the bathroom 
vanity.

Jack held her by the face, "What else did you do 
before I busted in and shot you up?"

"Uh..." she tried for a moment to concentrate, her 
breasts and sex felt so deliriously full and aroused, 
"just a couple of bees and a tab of X. What'd you, uh, 
give me?"

"Standard cardiac dose, 2mgs. Shooting you up in your 
neck, together with the alcohol and the 2c-b's(?)..."

"Hmmmm, yeah...bees..."

"...took less of a dose. The X kicking in yet?"

"Oh, god, yeah..."

"Here," he moved her hand away from her throat, "no 
more bleeding." He gently kissed the site and she bent 
her head to attempt to cradle his. He moved up to her 
ear, "Turn the *fuck* around bitch...I want your belly 
and breasts on the counter," he whispered, part 
menacingly, part tenderly.

Fiona luxuriated in the feel of the cool marble on her 
skin. She closed her eyes and let herself sag.

My god, he thought, what a spectacular site: her ass 
and sex spread before him. Her lips were distended and 
glistening, her asshole a beautiful brown rosette.

A hand on her hip, "I've been hard since the club. You 
offer such a tempting array of delights."

"Fuck me..."

"Nope, not yet my dear. Not only am I literate for a 
farmer from Oz," he ran a fingertip lightly from the 
top of her sex through her lips, lingering at her 
asshole before tracing up her spine, "I'm patient. 
You're not fucked up enough, I think."

He pushed her hair onto her head and off her shoulders 
and neck and then held her down, lightly, across her 
shoulders. With the other hand he picked up the brown 
suppository and pushed it, unceremoniously, into her 
rectum.

She was agitated for a moment as she felt his finger 
invade behind the suppository but then she adjusted.

"Oh shiiiit...I, uh, Jack...that felt, uh, 
interesting...but, I...ohmygod...I'd...never done 
this...uh...this much shit before..."

"Don't worry, Fiona, my dear...you're in good hands 
with me."

Through the rapidly thickening pleasure fog in her 
brain she heard the sound of a zipper. Felt one of his 
hands on her hip and then the tip of his cock at the 
entrance to her ass.

She struggled some as he penetrated her but the bliss 
covering her brain and the heightened skin sensations 
from the X converted the pain into a jolt of pleasure.

And it surprised Jack when he felt the head of his 
cock make contact with the heroin suppository and push 
it deeper into her. He felt a wave of giddy bliss as 
the suppository made full contact with the mucous 
membranes of his urethral opening.

He smiled before he took her in earnest. This was kind 
of like shot gunning grass except they were sharing 
heroin through her ass.

"Head up bitch," he said as he pulled her head off the 
counter by her thick mane and made her watch in the 
mirror, "this won't take long."

Their first fucking ended quickly and somehow they 
helped each other to bed.

* * * * *

Jack sat beside the bed, smoking.

The first light of dawn was pushing into the room, 
under the heavy drapes. He put his fingers to his nose 
and inhaled her scent and in that single moment he 
relived the past three hours from the recall of her 
delicious scent.

After they had fucked - as roughly as Jack could - 
Fiona drifted off to sleep and he took a couple of 
pills from her case that he recognized as hydrocodone 
and relaxed beside her.

Hydrocodone never let him get to REM sleep and so he 
dozed, in and out of light sleep, waking to stroke her 
back, caress her sex lips, her mouth, the backs of her 
thighs.

He'd cradle his body against her and murmur things to 
her. Time seemed to stand still.

A little before the dawn started to intrude under the 
drapes, he got up and sat beside the bed.

She was a beautiful, wrecked sight. Her long hair 
tangled over her face and shoulders, her makeup 
smeared and the swell of one of her breasts pressing 
out from under her body as she lay on her belly.

He wondered what she would be liked when she woke.

He got up and brushed the hair from her face. She was 
breathing deeply and regularly so he decided it was 
safe to leave her for a bit.

Unshowered, hair uncombed, wearing the clothes he 
started yesterday with he went to the valet, Enrique. 
It was 5:45AM.

He gave Enrique the claim stub but Enrique stood in 
front of him, stern faced.

"Uh...she's fine. She's sleeping. Here," he pulled a 
fifty dollar bill from his pocket, along with his 
suite's card key, "you two seem to have a 
relationship, would you check on her and order 
whatever she likes for breakfast from room service. 
I'm going for a drive up the Pacific Coast Highway. 
I'll be back in an hour or so."

"You're not afraid I'll go take advantage of her or 
kill her and blame you?"

Jack smiled. "Enrique, you've been in Hollywood too 
long and I'm too naive. You wouldn't have stared me 
down just now if you hadn't watched over her before."

Enrique cracked a small, approving smile, handed the 
claim stub to another valet while keeping his eyes 
fixed on Jack, "Very good, sir. Phillipe, get Mr. 
McCloud's car," and Enrique walked into the hotel.

* * * * *

Jack stood on the beach just north of Malibu, the sun 
coming full up over the Santa Monica Mountains.

Jesus, what had happened, he wondered. He laughed. He 
didn't know he had it in him. But she brought it out 
and he rode the wave.

When they had gotten to bed after the scene in the 
bathroom, he buried his tongue in her dewey cunt and 
ate her and she fucked his face for all she was worth. 
It depended on your viewpoint, Jack mused.

From there it was a smorgasbord of delights; rough and 
hard, obscenely urgent ("God damn it, Jack! Slam that 
cock into me NOW! And don't you dare fucking lose your 
woody or come to quick...") and paradoxically, 
seemingly timeless and in slow motion under the 
influence of the drugs.

Back at the hotel, Enrique was helping a dazed and 
confused Fiona to wake up.

"Mrs. Davis! Mrs. Davis!" Enrique gently slapped her 
face, "Wake up! I have breakfast for you."

After a moment, Fiona squinted. "What the FUCK...oh, 
Enrique...it's you...Hi, Enrique...what's up?" She 
giggled and her eyes started to slowly close.

"Stay awake please, Mrs. Davis. Mr. McCloud asked me 
to check on you and give you breakfast. Are you 
alright?" He noticed the needle puncture site on her 
neck that looked like a hickey now and the bruises 
beginning to form along her throat where he held her 
roughly and pressed her to the bed while he fucked 
her.

Again a giggle, "Oh, God Enrique...I don't think I've 
ever had a night like that. Yes, I'm fine - aside from 
being awakened from a sound sleep - what time is 
it...?"

"Uh, 6:30."

"...Aside from being awakened from a sound sleep just 
two hours after having reached unconsciousness. Where 
is my roomie?"

"He went for a drive up the PCH. Said he'd be back in 
a while."

* * * * * 

"So, anything interesting happen on your trip dear?"

"Ummmm, I spent a wild night with this bohemian mad 
woman from Pacific Palisades. She was really kinky."

"Would I like her? Would you like a threesome with 
her?"

"I don't know, now hold still..."

Jack took the very white, full hips of his wife and 
mounted her doggie style quickly and hard. Vicki gave 
out a cry and then started urging him on with moans 
and obscenities. 

He was very ungentlemanly, a fact which Vicki was 
quick to point out. He took her quickly and roughly 
and came quickly and did not give her a chance for 
pleasure. 

They lay together in their bed, sweating and panting. 

"Thinking of her when you fucked me, eh?"

Jack smiled, turned and kissed his wife, deeply and 
tenderly. "Believe it or not my little fuck slut, no, 
I wasn't. She was like going on a bender. She was fun 
for oh, 6 hours, but then I needed a break. She was 
just a "twist in my sobriety." Now I am back with you 
and our friends and lovers."

She snuggled into his chest, "Good."

Jack pushed her away and onto her back. "I think I owe 
you an O." He slid down to her red haired sex and 
started licking. 

"Ummmmmmmm, lick me good you bastard..."

And he did.