My heart is racing so fast it feels like it’s going to beat right out of my chest, but that’s just the rush hitting me. This druggy phone sex with Justin is the only thing that keeps the static in my brain from taking over completely. He called me up sounding just as wired as I am, the familiar rattle in his voice telling me he’s been riding the glass pipe for days.
I can hear the flick of his lighter through the receiver, and I take another long, deep hit of my own, feeling that chemical heat flood my veins until my skin starts to itch with desire. Justin isn’t like the other losers who call just to hear a pretty voice; he’s got tastes that cost a lot more than a standard minute rate. He pays me the heavy stuff, the kind of extra cash that keeps us both floating in this white cloud, just so he can get his hands on Natasha.
He knows I don’t care as long as the stash stays full and the lights stay low. I watched from the corner of the room, my pupils blown wide, as he grabbed my six year old daughter by the waist. She looks so much like I used to… fresh, tanned, and ready to be ruined by a man with too much money and a dark heart. He didn’t waste any time, and I didn’t want him to.
I watched through a haze of smoke as Justin reached out and ripped that pink babydoll dress right off her shoulders, the sound of the fabric tearing making my own pussy throb. He’s obsessed with the way she looks when she’s scared but willing, a little masterpiece of flesh that he bought and paid for. I leaned back against the wall, my head spinning, as he started fingering her “tight pussy” right in front of me.
Natasha moaned, her eyes rolling back, and I knew she was feeling that same electric pull that keeps us all trapped in Justin’s orbit. He’s going to fuck her for hours, and I’m going to sit right here and listen to every wet, messy sound they make. Justin likes to remind me that he owns the air we breathe in this house, and honestly, when the high is this good, I’m happy to let him.
I can hear him grunting as he pushes her down onto the mattress, his hands bruising her skin while he talks dirty about how much he loves exploitation. This is our life, a blurred cycle of needles, pipes, and paydays. As long as Justin keeps coming back with that baggie and that hunger for my girl, I’ll keep the door locked and the phone line open.
Alyssa
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