Rachel never expected to fall in love with her dealer, but she finds new, unexpected feelings of longing and affection with the mysterious man that no one will understand. One shot.
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I take a long, deep drag of the cigarette in-between my middle and index fingers, inhaling the smoke as far as my lungs will allow before blowing out a drawn-out stream of smoke. It burns on the way down, radiating fire in my chest. It's a dull throb, but the sensation floods me with both warmth and relief. The motion of putting the bud to my lips is somehow relaxing as I feel the weight of the day start to lift from my weary shoulders; usually straight and tall but are now slumped over as I sit on the edge of Frank's bed. My cheeks are still flushed from the intimacy we just shared, and I suddenly feel exposed and self-conscious in front of him, even in my underwear, as I stare at the walls of his RV.
I can feel his eyes on me. He chuckles, "You weren't shy before. Why the sudden modesty?"
I can't help but feel a small grin tug at the corners of my mouth as I shrug. "I don't know." I lean down to scratch the top of Pompidou's head as a distraction, the pup grateful for the attention.
"You weren't a virgin before this, were you?"
A half shocked, half amused giggle escapes, "Of course not! I think you would've known."
"That was kind of a dumb question," Frank laughs, smacking himself in the head before putting out his own cigarette. "But really, what's up?"
I glance over at him, taking in the sight of the half-naked man beside me. He always looks rugged and harsh, covered in tattoos and usually has a mean gleam in his eye. He has this overwhelming aura of, "Don't fuck with me" and usually glares at anyone that gets too close. Everyone in this town thinks poorly of him, seeming to only have bad things to say. Given he does sell drugs and isn't always exactly the nicest person when you initially meet him. But the eyes gazing back at me aren't hard or cruel. His face is soft, a small smile peaking at his mouth. His free hand softly tickles my arm, and he seems... gentle.
I've been with loads of guys, more than I would like to admit, but this feels... different.
When I hook up with someone, everything feels so forced, so emotionless; like robots. I've learned how to cut off any feeling to prevent any attachment. It's just for fun, right? I like playing around from time to time, it helps lay off the stress and makes me temporarily forget about the outside world impatiently waiting for me, with all of its seemingly endless responsibilities and disappointments. The real world is dry and boring. So I get a little wild, I'll admit it. But the guys usually have their fun and then push me away. They don't want the cuddling, the romance, they want the sex. Nothing else.
But Frank wants me to stay.
It was probably a low motive, but I only maneuvered my way into Frank's graces so I could have some easy access to his goods. Take that how you want to. Win-win, right? He was probably too old for me, but drugs are expensive, and this was an easy way to get my hands on it either discounted or free if I was lucky. It's shitty, but I've done worse. Everything was easy in the beginning.
