HEAL

1 -- WHITE LINES

Warning  --  mxw , bxb, drug use.

Three white lines of powder lay, perfectly cut, on the fancy mirror in the middle of the table in Larry's bedroom.  He had prepared them earlier to save time.  This man was not about wasting time, energy, or emotion.  No, none of that, as was evident by the useless placation's coming from the girl that lay, just about terrified, between Larry's now trembling thighs.  

"Shit !  What the fuck ...... shit !"  

"Larry, don't worry, it happens.  You're just tired"  She tried to console him, but it wasn't working.  This was their third go round in less than an hour.  The first go, not too shabby, he was satisfied, at least.  The second time, he barely managed to keep his steadily deflating dick and ego in check.  Third time, no chance in hell, he couldn't keep it up this time, even with the best will in the world.  

The alcohol, the drugs, his continual and consistent exhaustion from the dancing, the public engagements, interviews, and the night clubbing were taking it's toll, as it had been for the last few months, maybe even as much as the last year.  

"Fuck, Laurent !"  He had to blame someone, because, obviously, it couldn't possibly be his fault.  It was Laurent's fault for insisting on their more than hectic schedule, the lack of sleep, the women that turned up at Larry's door all times of the day and night, and it was, for SURE, Laurent's fault that he couldn't keep his dick wedged inside someones orifice.  

He pushed up and off the woman's body angrily, trying to pull up the underwear and jeans that he hadn't even bothered to pull off of his feet properly, trapping his ankles together, subsequently making him stumble backwards awkwardly.  Adding more fuel to his already highly combustible fire.  After adjusting himself accordingly, he stalked to the table, and took the $100 bill that was already rolled up there.  Leaning over the mirror, he snorted the cocaine up one nostril, then the other, the third line disappearing up the first nostril again.  He sniffed a few times, squeezing, then wiping his nose with his fingers, and adjusted himself.  He shook his head, waiting for the assault to his brain to take hold.  

He realised then, seemingly having forgotten, as he looked over to his bed that there was a woman lying in it.  She looked at him with big doe eyes, and a pout on her lips.  He could see she was wet as she lay, legs spread wide, her fingers toying seductively at her entrance as she gazed at him lasciviously.  Larry closed his eyes and sighed, in annoyance more than anything, and, taking the $100 bill, he crossed the room and climbed up the bed to lay on top of the girl.  Cupping her face with one hand as he looked deep into her eyes with what looked like affection, with the other hand he roughly, unceremoniously shoved the money up inside of her, the bill's hard thin edges cutting her not so delicate folds.  It earned him a hard slap across the face.  He snorted derisively, leaving her whimpering and in pain on his bed.

"Get out, you whore"  he ordered.

"Yeah, that's right, 'cos you only fuck whores, don't you Larry"

"Fuck off, Desiree"  She swung her legs around to the edge of the bed somewhat gingerly, and started to dress.

"Same time tomorrow ?"

"You better be here, bitch"

He stalked away, now fully dressed, as he had been for most of the the last hour or so.  He grabbed the half empty bottle of Hennessy, and left to go back to the party he was supposed to be hosting, slamming the door shut behind him.

--  --  --  --  --  --  --  --  --  --  --  -- 

Laurent was not at his twin's party.  Laurent was at the tail end of a dinner meeting with he and Larry's right hand woman, Eleni.  He had asked to meet her on his own, as Larry was to be the subject of discussion between the two tonight.