A POP STAR's SAGA

Her desire for another hit was so hot that she could feel the heat from 

last summers sunburn itching across her skin and she scratched at her 

arm unconsciously.  She knocked on the door in front of her and the loudness of each knock startled her.  Worried that she might have drawn attention to herself the Pop Star looked up and down the hallway of the run down apartment building and huddled sideways against the door.  “Please answer,” she prayed towards the door, but the answering stillness made her prayer sound in vain.  She glanced again at the gold, diamond encrusted watch on her wrist, and fought the compulsion to knock again.  She knew better than to knock on his door this late at night in the first place, but, it was as if she was a prisoner inside herself, and her jailer was giving her no choice.  Once before she had come here this late at night, and although she had received what she had come for, it had come with a price that had left her nauseated for days.  

She had sworn to herself that it would never happen again.  

She had sworn to herself that she would never be like other people she 

knew who were to weak to keep their integrity and control their desires. 

She made up her mind to leave, and turned to go, but, decided to knock 

just once more for some reason that she could not explain to herself.  

She shivered slightly as she knocked, partly from the cold that seemed 

to permanently reside in the low rent district of “Gotham,” and partly from 

the anticipation of getting another hit.  “God, where is he!” she thought to 

herself.  She believed he was there, because, she had seen his car in 

the poorly lit parking lot.  

She was about to go, or, knock again, she wasn't sure which, when the 

door cracked open an inch and a big angry eye looked down at her.  A 

sleepy deep voice grumbled; “Gurl, ha you lost yo dam mine?

You know whad time id-dis? Do I hat-ta kick yo dam ass ta make you gid 

“not” ta come roun hea-ah at dis time a nighed?”   The Pop Star hung her 

head, and her feet shuffled of their on accord.  Her hand went up to 

brush back her falling waves, and she half whispered half pleaded to 

him.  “I'm sorry Terry, I just need a little bit, and I don;t know where else 

to go to get it.  Please Terry, I'll do anything.”  As she said this last part 

she was horrified by the realization that at that moment she really would 

do anything for another hit, and she hated herself.  Perhaps she would

have run, but, in the time it took her to realize the truth of her, the door 

opened further revealing a massive head and shoulders followed by a 

power train 6'4” frame.  Terry looked down at the young lady who stood 

so desperately at his doorway.  He normally didn't do business at this 

time of night because night business attracted cop business, and he 

wasn't ever planning on going back to jail again.  “Still,” he thought to 

himself, “if ever there was ever a thing to exploit, then, I have never 

passed it up, and she is very exploitable.”  It had occurred to Terry that 

the Pop Star's idea of a “little” bit generally meant at least two hundred 

dollars to him, and at this time of night it would damn sure come with 

fringe benefits.  Studying the depth of her desperation he took in the 

fact that the high fashioned clothes  she wore looked starkly out of place 

in the hallway of  the drabby south side apartment building.  Her 

expensive stiletto heeled boots rose up to just below the knees of her 

lean muscular legs, which, flashed bare flesh all the way up to the very 

short hemline of a Japanese silk mini.  Terry drunk in the sexy sight and 

let his eyes travel up her 5'2” frame.  The mini, already super short 

below, hung low on her waist exposing the slinky curves that fell down 

both sides of the slim woman's well toned abdomen and continued 

down inside the top of her short skirt.  Those curves invited Terry's eyes 

to travel along them, until, they ran into the silky camouflage of the mini, 

behind which, all else was hidden.  

The tiny gold looped ring that hung suspended from her navel caught 

Terry's eye, and teased him with possibilities.  His eyes rose up to the 

sheer gold blouse that stretched tight across her bra-less chest.  Her 

breast, as if two mighty muscles holding ajar an iron door, protruded 

outward against the kelly green silk jacket she wore. The jacket was 

pushed open just enough for Terry to see the thickening erections of her 

Nipples, swollen with the promises of new passions of the night.  Long 

and wavy were the sinuous strands of the finest blonde hair he had ever 

seen, and they surrounded a breathtakingly beautiful, and familiar face.   

No one would ever believe that the suggestively clad beauty at his door 

was a multi-platinum selling artist, and Terry wondered, not for the first 

time, how he had gotten so lucky.  

The Pop Star's pleading eyes starring back at him as his eyes finally 

rose that high brought Terry back to his senses. He smiled knowingly at 

her, and behind his smile she saw the cost that she must pay, if, she 

still wanted her passion.  Almost as if it were a distant dream, a part of 

her felt saddened that she was willing to let him do whatever he wanted 

to do to her just for another hit, but then she thought of the hit, and the 

sadness was drowned out, washed away, by her passion.  

When Terry opened the door all the way she hurriedly bumped past him 

in excited relief, anticipation, and dread.  The sound of her boot heels 

clicking against the tiles of his kitchen floor rang in her ears.  To her, 

each step seemed to click away more and more of her integrity and 

dignity, but, she could not stop stepping and she walked deeper and 

deeper into a new normal way of life for her.

Terry led her into the small living area, and over to his nice but well 

worn sofa, and then, disappeared into the back of the apartment to 

get what she had come for.  Waiting, tensely she perched upon the edge 

of the cushion.   Her mini crawled up her back exposing all of her, but, 

she did not notice.  Hearing him returning she eagerly dug into her 

Gucci bag for money and the glass shooter pipe that she had brought 

with her.  Before she had found the pipe he was back, and the thick lump 

of rock cocaine he rolled from his hand and onto the coffee table in 

front of her caused goose bumps to rise on her bare exposed thighs.  

Finally, her fingers felt the glass pipe inside of her purse, and she pulled 

it out with the money.  As she started to ask him how much he shushed 

her, and then, snapped off a piece almost as big as her thumb nail, and 

held it out to her.  With her hands slightly trembling from excitement she 

took the sweet chunk and placed it into the end of the well used, faintly 

browned, glass shooter pipe.  She needed a light and looked over at 

Terry noticing for the first time that all he was wearing were pale blue 

and white stripped pajama bottoms that did more outlining than hiding 

body parts. She remembered that Terry was huge all over and as he lit 

the end of her pipe she alternated looking at the melting rock cocaine 

and the thickening trunk outlined so well in the pajama bottoms before 

her.  The sweet and over powering taste of high quality cocaine filled 

her mouth, numbing it instantly, and she sucked it in letting it fill her 

lungs and caress through her body.  Everything was okay now.  She felt 

exactly in control.  Her legs parted of their on accord revealing a barely 

there g-string panty, and as passion rushed into her from the hit, the 

surface of panties darkened with moisture.  She leaned back into the 

sofa and let the smoke escape leisurely from her lungs.  And, Terry

slowly slipped his pajama bottoms down....