0 comments/ 13768 views/ 1 favorites The Perfect Drug By: darkdeception The taste of her permeated Daniel's senses as he gazed at the solitary figure standing in front of him. He had not touched her, had not even said a word as memories from a bygone era flooded his senses reminding him of the forbidden fruit that stood before him. The perfect drug: euphoria, mania, depression, madness, happiness, sadness all in one size 10 package. A drug to which there was no cure from, a drug to which he would wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat with a pain deep in his chest. Am I suffering from a heart attack? He thought to himself. What is this pain that rapes my heart repeatedly? Like a scalding knife cauterizing his heart from the inside. A drug to which he wanted more of. Yet he did not know why. I wake up wanting more and I go to sleep wishing death upon myself to free my mind and soul from this endless cycle of pain. Yet, here she is, standing before me like a manifestation from my dreams and nightmares materialized before his very eyes. In the doorway of my bedroom to make matters worse. He wanted to touch her, touch that delicate mocha brown skin once again and tell himself that everything was alright. Lie to himself once again that the past will not predict the future. But he knew that deep down this was not the case, past mistakes could never be forgiven and bad habits can never be accepted. Much similar to a drug addict seeking a fix. Daniel looked at the girl in front of him; Josephine, she had stayed silent this entire time as she looked at him. Her coffee brown eye's gazing deeply at him as if trying to find the words to say something. As if she herself was struggling with her own personal demons. He looked into her eyes seeking an answer. Redemption? Condemnation? Thoughts of preceding times together swept through his mind again. Images of naked limbs, entangled upon each as the strong scent of sex filled his olfactory senses, and the pleasure, yes the pleasure. Intoxicating his senses beyond relief to a point of no return. As if observing another person rather than himself he watched in disbelief as he walked up to her. An animalistic behaviour had taken over his personality now, he had no control; like a shark tasting the scent of blood sending them into a feeding frenzy he too was beyond control. No rationale thinking could stop him now. He took a step towards her, as she drew in a breath, her voice barely a whisper against the rustling of their clothes. "What are you doing? We can't..." her voice trailing away into silence as their eye's locked. His hand ran across her delicate cheekbone's and across her almond shaped eyes; their eyes looking at him with anger initially, the cinnamon colour of her iris turning a shade of dark sepia before returning back to it's cinnamon colour. She too was fighting her own demons, and like him she had lost to them. She had just not known that yet. His delicate hands ran through her raven gossamer like hair, relishing in their silken smoothness as her hand ran down his spine, sending shivers of pleasure through his body. Her scent, a delicate mix of cinnamon and spices filled his senses as his tongue delicately probed her satin skin until her scent filled his taste buds with their exotic complexity. The girl sighed in pleasure as her hands ran against his body, here fingernails lightly grazing him with their sharpness; the plastic sounds of acrylic against flesh the only sounds heard besides the faint suckling of his own tongue against her lustrous skin. He could her heart beating faintly, its staccato rhythm spurning him on to explore further pleasures. Daniel embraced her, his hands moving across her clothing as he pressed himself against her, his erection straining against the tight confines of his jeans. Josephine bucked against him as she slid against the growing tent in his pants. He grabbed her shirt with both hands, ripping it open in one sudden movement as buttons sprayed the room like shrapnel from an explosion. Her firm full breasts bounded forth from their material restraints as they hung delicately before him, restrained only by the thinnest of bras. Black lace in a French design framed her full breasts, the thin material in places offering glimpses of the hidden treasures of flesh beneath. His mouth found hers then as his tongue parted her lips their tongues sliding against each other in desperation, weeks of pent up frustration erupting into a climactic show of passion. His hands moved to her back, freeing her bra with ease as her hands went to his pants. The sounds of her nails against his metal belt combined with the rustling sound of his removal of clothing resonated through the room. Freed from their material hindrances her breast stood proudly before him. The dark areola's framed her copper skin as her nipple's stood out erect. Along with her bra any self restraint she had, up to this point kept suppressed disappeared in an instant. Daniel's hands circled the dark hardened nipples as he affectionately squeezed her nipples between his thumb and forefingers. The sudden impelling of her already rigid nipples caused an involuntary sharp intake of breath from her before she removed his underpants in one swift movement in response. His hardened member sprang forth from its material constraints like a soldier leaping into battle. Josephine's hands snaked down to grasp his rigid member, her fingernails clicking in unison against one another as she began to tug at his member with increasing urgency. Daniel's eye's rolled back in ecstasy as an involuntary groan escaped his lips, breaking the unending duel his tongue was involved in with that of Josephine's. Before he knew what was happening Daniel felt an altogether different sensation against his cock. He opened his eye's in shock to see her on her knees before him, her lips already swallowing him, encasing his member in a world of liquid euphoria. Daniel could only moan incoherently as he ran his hands through her hair as her eyes remained on him throughout this. Engorged veins pressed against silky lips, sending them both into a world of bliss as she moaned in rapture, her tongue flickering against his head before sliding back along his engorged veins she could feel herself getting wet and found herself needing release very soon. As if in answer to her building pleasure Daniel extricated himself from Josephine's wanton tongue, albeit with a small amount of regret. He pulled her up off her knees before pushing her onto his bed; she fell with a small cry of surprise but was unable to react as he was on top of her before she could move at all. His hands deftly removed her pants with her assistance as his tongue kissed her breasts, enjoying the familiar musky taste of her sweat. Josephine went to remove her underwear, the last item of clothing that remained on her pert figure, black and lacy it was a match for the bra, with the intricate lace design offering glimpses of her dark mound that lay beyond. She went to push them off herself before he stopped her, his seductive smile causing her to pause. Daniel moved towards her mound, his head moving in a sweeping motion as his hands spread her legs wide apart. Starting at her knee he began to caress the flesh of her inner thigh with his tongue, the musky smell of her sex permeating the air as he neared her mound. His uninhibited tongue moved down the silken expanse of her thigh tracing circles as he crept closer to her centre. Her breathing became harsh as his face hovered inches away from the black lace, the anticipation of things to come overwhelming her need for release. He swooped back to the top of her other knee, nibbling his way back down to her centre only to continue to the other leg. Ignoring her moans of pleasure and whimpers of pleadings as her hips bucked violently towards his face. He held her hips down with one hand as his other continued to cosset her other breast, his fingers grazing her hardened nipple. Without warning he drove his face into her thin laced underwear, his tongue lashing out against the thin material covering her core as his lips slid rhythmically against the sodden material, tasting her through his tongue as her smell intoxicated his olfactory senses. Josephine shrieked in pleasure as the built up pleasure reached its final climax a washing her with its euphoric rapture. The Perfect Drug Before I say another word... write another word, to be more accurate... I have to warn you that I am crazy. I don't mean to say that I'm completely, madly cackling, drooling, out of touch with reality, eating flies, crazy. Perhaps that occurs later down the road, or perhaps not. No, I mean to say that I know I'm not completely in touch with reality. I am very aware that I cannot be seeing some of the things I have seen. But... it's not just the things I've seen that lead me to believe I am crazy, but also the people I have met. I've gotten quite tired of trying to distinguish who is real, and who is not, and you would too if you ask person A if person B is real, only to wonder if person A is lying about person B because person A isn't real either. It gets old really quick. It didn't start out that way, or the way certain people just lack that hold on what you would all consider reality. Not at all, for me, it started with a drug. I'm not much for pill-popping, other than the occasional Percodan, or Oxycodone, nothing much heavier than that. I'm your basic weed sort of guy, maybe a hit of acid, but I was leery about that, as it can cause trips, even long after you've stopped hitting it. I did try some Ex, you know, once or twice, and almost ended up going home with some girl I was head-over-heels about, saved by my friend, Nate, though I was furious with him at the time. This particular pill, though, was an exception, not even supposed to be available to the public, as it was in its testing phase, and doing so well. Apparently, according to Nate, who had snuck me out about ten of the little capsules to begin with, it was supposed to enhance the number of neurons that fired in the brain, jumpstarting synapses, that sort of thing. And it seemed to do just that, at first, anyway. After taking it, I felt more lucid, clear-headed, able to remember things better, make connections I never would've made otherwise. It wasn't until later, about fifteen or sixteen doses later, that I had my first hallucination. I was on the subway, headed home from work, and there was a man just across from me. He was well dressed, suit, overcoat, tie, all that, but he had the head of a frog. It wasn't just a little odd-shaped... bear with me here... he literally had the head of a frog. It was greenish-gray, and his eyes... anyway, when he noticed how I kept looking over at him, he got defensive and started croaking at me, and I went and sat somewhere else where I didn't have to look at him. Thinking that maybe I'd just been working too hard, I went home and went to bed, taking another of those capsules. Even my dreams were lucid, so clear, and I remembered them upon waking, which I had never done before. When I told Nate about the hallucination, he laughed so hard he fell out of his seat. "You wouldn't have been laughing if you'd seen it yourself," I bristled at his laughter, "It was creepy as hell!" "I'll bet you scared the shit out of Mr. Toad, too!" he continued to laugh. It got worse, of course, because, while I supposed I could handle the sight of a man with a frog's head, birds yelling at me to get the fuck out of the way was even more bizarre, I shit you not! There's apparently no animal I've met that is surlier than a pigeon on a mission. I almost yelled at him to fuck off, and then caught myself. It seemed as if I'd been cast in the worst Disney movie ever made! Luckily, I didn't have a girlfriend, or a wife, or anything like that. Otherwise, I might have some explaining to do about my sudden issues. Not that I couldn't get a girlfriend, mind you. I'm not a bad-looking guy. I'm about five-foot-nine, closer to five-ten, almost one hundred seventy pounds. I'm kinda pale, I guess, as I don't tan well. My hair is a light brown, and I keep it spiked up, a little longer in the front than the back, which is okay, because I don't deal with customers, so it's not a big deal. My eyes are so dark as to appear almost black, especially when compared to my pale skin. Nate says I look like one of those vampire guys in some teen drama, but I don't know, because I don't watch teen dramas. He's weird like that, I guess. I happened to catch the news one night, in which Pharmcare, a major medical company, was the target of a major snafu involving a new drug being tested, in which the drug caused major mental problems in the test subjects. I was suddenly very concerned, and I quit taking the medicine Nate had given me. I confronted him about it the next day, but he'd already been worrying before that. "What the fuck did you give me, man?" I demanded. "Ah, fuck, man," he ran his hands through his short, curly hair, really doing no damage to it, "Did you stop taking it? Flush the rest of it down the toilet." "Tell me!" I pushed him. "Shit, man, it was supposed to be safe!" he threw his hands in the air, frightened and angry, but not more so than me. "I've been seeing all kinds of shit!" I paced across his living room, "You don't even realize the shit I've been seeing, Nate!" "You think I would've given you the damn pills if I had thought they were so dangerous? Fuck, man, they're auditing my department, looking for misplaced pills. I think they know some got taken, but not who took them." "So what the hell am I supposed to do now? If I go see someone and tell them I've been taking some experimental pills, they'll sure as hell figure that out, and trace it back to you." Nate sat with his head in his hands, "Shit, man, maybe they'll figure out how to reverse it or something. For the time being, you've just got to roll with it." "Roll with it..." I exploded, "A pigeon fucking told me to get the fuck out of the way, Nate! People have been saying all kinds of weird shit to me! Some guy at work told me that Mrs. Maple is the cause of the fall of the Third Reich, Nate! Who the fuck is Mrs. Maple?" Nate shook his head, "Ah, fuck, man... I didn't know, man, I swear I didn't. Maybe it'll wear off when you stop taking it." "It'd better, dude, cause I'm freaking out," I said, leaving. If it had, then there would be no point talking (writing) about it, would there? No, it got worse. "So, how long have you been having these hallucinations?" Dr. Suttelmyre looked up from a yellow pad, his green-and-gold Montblanc pen ready to write. "It's been about a month," I fidgeted, "And it's been getting pretty bad." "Tell me about it," he adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses. I sighed, "Yesterday, I got into an elevator with this guy. Out of nowhere, the man begins singing some show tune or something, dancing to it, and then walks right through the door." "He sang and danced, and then walked out of the elevator?" "No, he sang and danced, and then walked through a closed elevator door, while the elevator was still moving," I elaborated. "That must've been quite distressing," Dr. Suttelmyre arched a bushy eyebrow. "Ha! After I got off the elevator, I saw a cockroach the size of my fist. It was making racecar noises as it streaked down the hall. Somehow, I found that one a bit more distressing." I watched him jot something down on his pad, and then he looked up and asked, "So far, nothing you've hallucinated has shown any malevolent intent, tried to convince you to do bad things?" "Nothing like that, not yet, anyway," I shook my head, "What the hell am I supposed to do, doc? I can't keep functioning at my job if this keeps happening." He adjusted his sombrero, pulling the little strap tighter on his chin, "That's for damn sure, you crazy bastard!" I realized that he wasn't real, and I was sitting in my apartment, talking to someone who wasn't there. Fuck. It got worse for Nate, too. They suspected someone in his department of stealing the defective drug, and, though they hadn't pinned it on him, they suspected him. So far, however, they had no real evidence that he had done it, so he was still okay, he hoped. "I was careful as hell," he insisted, "I got ahold of the stuff before they had finished inventorying it, so they know some is missing, but not really from where, exactly. Listen, you should make yourself scarce for a while. If they get ahold of you, they'll figure out that you've been taking it, and they'll trace it back to me." I got pretty pissed off, but he had a point. Never mind that he was mostly preoccupied with keeping his own ass out of the fire, not so much with my problems. I took the subway home, ignoring anyone who talked to me, including a rat who was asking for a cigarette. I just shook my head and got on the car. I don't smoke cigarettes, anyway. When I got home, Dr. Suttelmyre was waiting for me. "You're late for your nine o'clock appointment," he clucked his tongue, appearing very irritated. "Yeah, I never scheduled a nine o'clock," I replied, locking my door and tossing my jacket up on the hook, "Oh, yeah, and, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you're not real." "Maybe you'd like to sit down so we can discuss this." "So I should discuss the fact that I'm sitting here discussing it with a man who doesn't exist? How exactly is that supposed to help me?" "Well, if I'm not real, then where did I get this cool tie?" he showed me his tie, on which Daffy Duck stood front and center, his beak on the top of his head, looking quite angry. "That's my tie," I frowned, "Why the hell are you wearing it?" "It looks better on me, I think," he chuckled at it before tucking it back in his jacket, "It works great on setting patients at ease, you know." "What patients?" I snapped, "A doctor who doesn't exist can't have patients!" "I can if my patients don't exist either," he wiggled his eyebrows comically, "And, speaking of, how do you know you exist?" Not having a solid answer for that, I picked up my television remote and tossed it to him. He caught it, and my jaw dropped. "Great trick, huh?" he grinned, and pointed the remote at me, "Look again." I looked at the coffee table I had picked the remote up from, and there it was, exactly where it had been before I... thought... I had picked it up. "Thank you very much, I'm here all week," he announced. "I'm fucked," I blinked, dazed. "You think you're fucked now, just wait 'til you get my bill!" I looked up from the table, and he was gone. I did end up losing my job, which seemed inevitable, but it could've been worse. Anyway, Mr. Durkin, my supervisor called me at my desk and informed me that he wished to see me in his office. I got up, skirted a guy who was head-banging to music only he could hear... pretty sure he wasn't real, but I couldn't tell... and went to Mr. Durkin's office. He asked me to sit down, and I did, looking at pictures he had of his grandchildren, and a decent looking daughter. "It has come to my attention that you might be having some troubles," he began, "Is there anything going on that I should be made aware of?" I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at one of the grandchildren, a little boy, in one of the pictures. Hey, he started it! "No," I lied, "I don't think so, anyway." "Well, some of your coworkers seem to think otherwise. You have been seen arguing with yourself, displaying signs that maybe you should seek help. One coworker says you've been ignoring him because you 'were sure he was not really there.' Do you recall this coworker?" I shrugged, "I'm not sure what you mean," and then I looked down at the picture of Mr. Durkin's daughter, who was flashing her tits at me. They were nice, sure, but it wasn't the time to pay her any compliments. "Are you even paying attention?" Mr. Durkin frowned, "I swear, it's as if you've suffered some sort of breakdown or something." "Maybe I haven't been getting a lot of sleep," I sighed. Of course not, not when Dr. Suttelmyre, my non-existent psychiatrist, made constant house calls at four in the morning! "Because your coworkers are concerned for their safety, and because I'm become quite concerned as well," Mr. Durkin did appear quite worried, "I'd like you to submit to a random drug test." "Drug test?" I laughed, "What are you getting at, Mr. Durkin? I'm pretty offended that you would even suggest such a thing to me! I have been an employee here for three years, and I've called in sick twice... Twice! I've put in long hours, worked weekends on several occasions, and I get a little preoccupied, and you suggest a drug test?" "I wouldn't call your actions over the past few weeks just being preoccupied." "Oh, so you're a doctor, now?" "And the drug test? That's not a suggestion. You will submit to a drug test, or you will resign your position in this company." "This is bullshit!" I slapped the desk, making him jump in fear, "I'm sure as hell not submitting to a drug test, that's for sure. If this is how you treat your employees, then I want no part of it, so you can stick your drug test up your ass. I'm gonna call an attorney and see what he says about it. Oh, and by the way, your daughter's got some nice tits." I walked out while he was still stunned to silence, and I glanced back to see him pick up the picture and look at it, uncomprehending. I emptied out my desk, carrying my things out into the hall, ignoring Frannie, an overweight woman in a dark blue pantsuit that looked like it had been made from cheap bedspreads, as she asked me what had happened. I took the elevator down to the ground floor, walked out, and never went back. I never called an attorney as I had assured Mr. Durkin I would, as I couldn't afford one, anyway, not to mention, I'd never pass a drug test. Hell, I'd gone without weed for three months when I'd been searching for jobs just to pass the mandatory, pre-hiring drug test, and never again since then. Until I'd gone crazy, I'd never given Mr. Durkin or anyone else a reason to think anything might be wrong with me. I rode the subway home, purposely arguing with a bum who asked me if I'd seen who had won the World Series Poker Tournament last night, just so that the menacing looking Hispanic guy with the expansive tattoos would see me as more of a threat than himself, and leave me alone. Once I was in my apartment, starting to worry about how I would make the rent payments and bills, Dr. Suttelmyre walked in and sat down, offering me a seat. "Shit, doc," I hung my head in my hands, "Now's not a good time. In fact, never is a much better time for this. I'm really wishing I could go back to normal right now, and you're not helping one little bit." "You are showing signs of psychosis, Steve," he replied evenly, "Basically, you are having trouble distinguishing what is real, and what is not. These hallucinations are just a symptom of your psychosis." "What do you suggest I do, doc?" I sighed wearily. "You should learn how to ballroom dance, take some crocheting lessons, and never eat pre-processed, double-pasteurized cheese product," was his deadpan answer. I looked up, and he looked at me with utmost seriousness. "I guess that's why you make the big bucks, right?" I grinned. Returning the grin, he replied, "Right you are, Steve! Right as rain, right as light, one might say. Oh, and you should probably be committed, too, because you're pretty fucked in the head." Following the non-existent doctor's advice, I took a little trip to Grant Valley, a psychiatric hospital downtown, and was granted a psychiatric evaluation. As I was escorted into the office, I was asked to wait by a nurse with short, blonde hair and an obvious eating disorder, anorexia, not overeating. I waited for almost ten minutes, and then Dr. Suttelmyre walked in like he owned the place. "Well, it seems that you have taken my advice," he sat behind the desk. "Not now," I replied quietly, "What the hell?" "Well, you're here, aren't you? Why not jump into it right now?" Before I could answer, another man walked in, this time using the door, which was heartening. I stood and shook his hand, and he sat down right where Suttelmyre was. I half-expected that he would find he was sitting in another man's lap, but Dr. Suttelmyre just vanished. "I'm Dr. Henry Massinger. And you are?" "I'm Steven Weston." "Good, now, you are here for a psychiatric evaluation? And you are here voluntarily, no remanding by a judge?" "I'm here of my own will, doctor. I'm having some problems... obviously, or else why would I be here?" "Well, it's good to know that you understand you have a problem, anyhow. Let me get settled here, and then we'll begin." The evaluation lasted for almost an hour, and I answered as honestly as possible, except that I did omit the source of this psychosis, if that's really what I was suffering from. "And this... Dr. Suttelmyre, is it... yes, okay, he recommended that you see me?" "Well, not exactly. He suggested that I have myself committed." "Well, that's something new. But you know that he's not real..." "Oh, I know it. I also know that a lot of the things that are happening to me are not real, but knowing it doesn't make it go away. I wish it would." "Okay, I think that I have enough information for the time being. I will recommend that you check in as soon as possible, for observation, and only for a few weeks while we come to a more accurate determination of your illness, and then we might prescribe some medications to help combat these hallucinations. As you have lost your job, I will suggest that you speak to Valerie at the front desk about alternate methods of payment during your stay here." I thanked the doctor, shook his hand once more, and left his office. At the front desk, Valerie, a no-nonsense, primly-dressed woman with dark brown hair pulled up in a severe bun, gray power-suit with a knee-length pencil skirt, and pleasant, if not slightly sharp facial features, had already gotten out the forms I needed, having been called by Dr. Massinger as soon as I left his office. "Luckily, there are state-funding programs available to you," she spoke in a higher-pitched voice than I had expected, which, combined with her dainty, elfin physique, gave me the impression that she dressed the way she did to be taken more seriously than she usually was, "Unfortunately for you, unless you are declared sane, once you start one of those programs, the chances of you getting out anytime soon are much slimmer." She handed me the forms, and I looked them over, feeling a little uneasy. What if I was approved for one of the programs, and stuck here for the rest of my life because the effects of the drug never wore off? Still, it's not like I would have anywhere else to go, with no job, and no job possibilities, what with the hallucinations. I would have to move out of my apartment, sell most my things... "If I'm committed voluntarily, what sort of privileges would be available to me?" I asked. "Voluntary commitment is a good start," she smiled, "As long as you are considered nonviolent, and obey the rules, you may be allowed to have a computer in your room, wear your own clothes, that sort of thing. As a patient, you are here to be treated and rendered a productive and upstanding member of society. The truly violent and criminally insane are houses in another institution entirely, away from the city, so this is just a place for people who need help, and, for the most part, want help." "Do you really believe that?" I asked, "It seems like sort of a canned statement." She blinked, surprised, and then confided in me, "Listen, as far as I can tell, everyone's crazy as bat-shit. But the majority of us keep it to ourselves, and can function in society without scaring the shit out of people." I laughed, "That's much better. I like you, you're alright." With a more genuine smile that softened her facial features further, the pixie in her shining out, she allowed, "You're not so bad, yourself, Mr. Weston. It's too bad I don't date patients." The Perfect Drug "That is too bad," I shrugged, "As I'll probably need to be one." I filled out the forms, which Valerie faxed off for me, and I wished her a good afternoon, receiving another pixie-cute smile from her. Yeah, it was too bad. Dr. Suttelmyre awaited me outside. "She's quite a gem, isn't she?" he looked in the front window of the building, "While you were talking to her, I was looking up her skirt. Did you know that she doesn't wear panties?" "That's pretty fucked up," I muttered to him, and he walked beside me. "I know, right? I wonder what she does on her breaks..." he wiggled his eyebrows like Groucho Marx. "No, I mean the fact that you were looking up her skirt." "Well, for a psychiatrist, I don't get laid much." "Kinda difficult when you don't exist, huh?" "Damn straight," he nodded, "Well, don't forget your nine o'clock appointment. I've got a lot of non-existent patients lined up after you, and I hate to get behind on my appointments." "Sure thing, doc," I sighed, and he veered off the sidewalk and into traffic. I went home to my apartment and started packing my things. As I was boxing stuff up, the landlord, a fiftyish man who had somehow maintained a thin physique throughout his life, even though he ate like a much fatter man, a source of envy for me, considering I had to watch what I ate since I was a kid, showed up at my door, which I had left open. "Hey, Steve, what's going on?" he looked around at all the boxes, "You moving out?" "Yeah, Gideon, sort of. Look, I should be able to get you the last month's rent, and I'll leave a thirty-day notice in your office. I lost my job, though, and it's not looking like I'll be able to get another one anytime soon." "Well, shit," Gideon scratched his graying hair, "That blows. You're one of the few tenants I've never had a problem with. I'd rather get rid of Mrs. Jakowski. That bitch keeps sneaking damn cats in, messing up the place. I hate cats! All they do is piss and shit everywhere, and it'll take a damn can of napalm to get the smells out! So what happened?" I taped a box shut, and then set the tape aside, "Well, I've just been dealing with some stuff, Gideon. I guess it's gotten to be too much, and my performance was slipping. Then my boss calls me into his office to talk about it, and demands that I get a drug test. I blew up at him, and left." That's... sort of how it happened, I just left out a lot of details... "Damn," Gideon shook his head, "Well, you're not the first guy to blow up at his boss." "Yeah, well, you're lucky," I replied, "You're your own boss, so you can't fire yourself, and if you blow up at yourself, I'm sure you can work it out, right?" Gideon laughed uproariously at that, and one of the other tenants down the hall yelled, "Shut the fuck up!" "Hey!" Gideon leaned out into the hall, "You want me to call the cops about that shit you've been growing in there, then keep talking!" A door closed quietly, and I chuckled, "It's great to be the king, huh?" "Yeah, until something's gotta be fixed, which is constantly, in this place. Hey, don't worry about the notice, I'll type something up and you can sign it when you get a chance, okay? Damn it, this blows, Steve. If I could afford to let you stay for free until you got another job, I would, you know that, right?" "Sure, man," I nodded, "And I appreciate the thought. It's all right, though, I'll be staying with some friends, so it's not like I'll be out on the street. Thanks, Gideon, you're one hell of a landlord, and I'll nominate you for Landlord of the Century, if they ever do make that an award." "Shit," he grinned, "I'll put you at the top of the list of people I thank for the award, if they do." I had most of my things packed by nightfall, despite the fact that I had to contend with a goon dressed in black slacks and a greasy-looking undershirt who kept reading aloud from a book of dirty jokes and riddles, constantly saying, "Stop me if you've heard this one..." The guy eventually disappeared, but then one of those extremely surly pigeons sat on the ledge outside one of my windows, pecking at the glass, bitching because he had to live outside. "Why the hell do you get such fancy digs while I gotta live outside in a fucking overhang? You live in an overhang and tell me how you like it, and I'll lounge on the couch and watch your stupid fucking sitcoms!" The bastard had a point, but I didn't intend on living in a little nest in an overhang, so I tried to ignore him instead. "Sure, why not? Let's all ignore the fucking bird, what the fuck does he know, he's just a fucking bird!" I lowered the blinds. "You fucker! You wait and see if I don't find you and shit on your head! Pecker-nuts!" This was definitely no Disney movie I'd ever seen. It took almost a week to get a response about the state funding, but when they did respond, they did so with a request for an interview, so I went to an office in a building they worked out of, searching for the office number on a large directory between two elevators. A young woman with white Keds, a pair of forest-green Capris, and a purple short-sleeved tee shirt with a cartoon cat on the front stepped up beside me, also looking at the directory, her pleasant, lightly tanned face and honey-blonde hair catching a ray of sunlight that had filtered through the glass in the front door. "They always make these stupid things so complicated, don't they?" she frowned, appearing almost childlike in her expression. I glanced at her, wondering if she was real, "Which office are you looking for?" "Who says I'm looking for an office?" "Why else would you be looking at the directory?" "Do you always answer questions with questions?" she looked at me curiously, "That's a little rude." "You started it," I pointed out. "I didn't! Do you always go around blaming other people for things you did?" "Do you always go around starting arguments for no reason?" "See?" she announced victoriously, "You did it again!" Damn. "Okay," I allowed, but you started it the first time." I went into the elevator, and, of course, she got in with me. "You haven't told me your name," she crossed her arms over her chest, "You're supposed to introduce yourself." "Well, neither did you." "Fine, I'll start then. I'm Virginia. Now it's your turn." "I'm Steven," I sighed. She smiled, revealing slightly crooked teeth, which was sort of adorable, I supposed, "Good, so why are you here, Steven?" I decided that I wanted her to go away, so I was honest, "Well, lately, I've been hallucinating a lot. I see all kinds of crazy things, and I'm trying to get the state to pay for me to go to a nuthouse." Her eyes widened with amazement, "Really? So what do you see?" "I hear things, too, like this surly pigeon who keeps yelling at me. But I see people that aren't there, too." She seemed fascinated, not quite the reaction I was hoping for, "Wow, that sounds like fun. So... if you see people that aren't there, how do you know they're not real?" "There's no telling, I guess, until they vanish, anyway." "So if I just disappeared, that means I'm not real?" "That's exactly what that means. I'm not sure if you're real or not right now, except that you're not looking for any office, but you're in an elevator with me anyway." She nodded thoughtfully, and then baffled me some more, "Who says I'm not headed for an office in this building?" "You said you weren't searching for an office." "Did I? I remember asking you , 'Who says I'm looking for an office,' so I never really said, one way or another. And, by the way, you did start it. I asked the first question, and then you answered it with another question. So there!" Damn. "So then, which office are you headed for?" "I'm not." "Then why are you in the elevator?" "You sure do ask a lot of questions," she noticed. I closed my eyes, counting to ten. "What are you doing?" "I'm counting to ten." "Why? Are you trying to remember how to count?" "Nope, I'm trying to remain calm, because you're pretty frustrating." "You're the one asking a bunch of questions." I opened my eyes, and she was gone. I got out of the elevator on the seventh floor, looked around for the office I needed to meet them in, and found it near the end of one corner of the building. The office was sectioned off with a small waiting room, a front desk, and two partitioned offices behind it. The receptionist at the desk, who barely glanced up as I approached, pointed with a manicured nail at a clipboard on the counter before her. I signed in, put the time down, and the time of my appointment with them, and then wrote state-funding program for the reason of my visit. I looked down at the receptionist who was occupied with a self-help book of some kind. She looked middle-aged, her hair appeared dyed, and she had obviously had a boob job. Apparently, she was trying to fight mortality by pretending she would never get old. "Have a seat, please, and someone will be with you shortly," she noticed me looking at her and flashed me an annoyed look. I nodded, and sat down in one of five uncomfortable plastic chairs. It took another twenty minutes, and, to complicate things further, Dr. Suttelmyre came in and sat next to me. "I wonder if that receptionist knows how old she looks just by trying to look younger," he glanced over at her disapprovingly. "Yup," I muttered under my breath. "My god! Did you see the silicone job she had done? What hack-job did she go to see for those things? She ought to get her money back!" I stifled a grin, pretending to wipe my mouth until I got control of myself. "I don't even think that hair dye was ever a natural hair color! She looks like she's trying to win a drag-queen cougar beauty contest, for crying out loud!" It was getting tougher and tougher to keep from laughing out loud at this point. Undaunted, determined even, he continued on, "I'll bet that when she does finally kick the bucket, she'll be perfectly preserved with all the Botox injections she's had. Why, she's more silicone than woman at this point!" I snorted into my hand, and the receptionist glanced up at me, irritated. "Sorry, allergies," I lied. Dr. Suttelmyre stood up, "In the interest of scientists everywhere, it is my duty to see what kind of miraculous figure-supporting underwear this lady's wearing. I'll bet it's made out of duct tape and Spandex!" I was laughing now, as quietly as possible, pretending to look at something funny on my phone. "Holy moly," I heard Dr. Suttelmyre exclaim softly from under the counter, "You won't believe it. I don't believe it! Steven, you ought to have a look for yourself. I swear you'll be scared straight here, or my name isn't Alex Suttelmyre!" I didn't get up. I didn't have the advantage of being seen only by me, and even then, I wasn't sure I ever in my life wanted to see up this receptionist's skirt, Valerie maybe, but not this lady! "Fine, Steven," Dr. Suttelmyre said, "I'll tell you because you're obviously not brave enough to attempt it yourself. Man, she is wearing one of the frilliest thongs I've ever witnessed, and I don't think I'll ever eat clams again in my life!" Before I could burst into gales of laughter, a man walked out of one of the little offices, "Mr. Weston? Come on back." I got myself under control, relieved to see that Dr. Suttelmyre had vanished once more. I didn't think I'd be able to keep my composure if I saw his legs poking out from under the counter. "Well, Mr. Weston," the man, a plain-looking, suit-wearing guy in his late thirties sat down behind his little desk and indicated one of two chairs in front of it, "I'm Don Gossier, the programs manager. It appears that you've applied for some financial assistance for a Grant Valley Psychiatric Hospital, is that right?" "Yes, sir," I sat down, "I lost my job, due to some... problems I've been having, and I'm worried for my sanity." He glanced up from his computer, a little wary, but trying not to show it, "I see. So, you're voluntarily committing yourself for observation? Well, you do realize that, should you be approved, you will need to provide us with Dr... " "Dr. Massinger," I provided, and he snapped his fingers. "That's the one. He'll need to send a confirmation that you are to be observed and treated there. Also, when he deems you fit to be a member of society again, we will require a copy of that." "Okay, so what does that mean? Am I approved?" "As soon as Dr. Massinger sends the confirmation, the funding will begin. Oh, and, I am required to point this out, the penalty for applying for State Assistance Programs under false pretenses does incur fines of up to $25,000 in addition to the amount you received, as well as prison time of up to five years." "Well, I won't really be receiving it, right? The hospital will. But yeah, I understand." "So," he looked at me again, "We'll let you know when we get Dr. Massinger's confirmation. Thank you for coming in." I stood up, about to leave, but then stopped. "That wasn't much of an interview." "Yeah, we've got all the information we really need from the forms you filled out. You're not married, no children, is that correct? Yes, well, we just needed you to come down so that we could speak face to face, and to answer any questions you had. Other than that, you're right, it's really not much an interview, per se, just a meeting." "Oh, okay," I nodded, "Well, I don't have any questions right now, but if I think of one..." He handed me a business card, "Yes, there you go." "Thank you," I left his office, passed the receptionist with a nod and a serious attempt not to think about her in a frilly thong, and headed down the hall to the elevators. I muttered a few choice words under my breath as I saw the annoying young woman leaning against the wall near the closest elevator. "Did you get the answers you were looking for?" she asked as I pressed the call button for the elevator. "For the most part, yeah," I smoothed my shirt down. "Good to hear. So, are you really crazy, or were you just trying to scare me off?" "Yes, and yes," I admitted. "Why would you want to scare me off? That's just plain mean." "Because you're not real." "It doesn't mean I don't have feelings." "It does if you don't exist." "If I don't exist, then why am I still here?" she scowled at me. "Because I took some kind of experimental drug, and now I hallucinate. You're one of my hallucinations, that's all." She looked down at herself, and then back at me, "I seem pretty real to me." "Yeah, of course, otherwise I'd have no trouble distinguishing you as a hallucination, would I?" "Then, really, what's the difference? I'm here, and I'm talking to you, and you're talking back to me, and being mean about it, by the way. So what's the problem?" "The problem is that nobody else can see you, so it looks like I'm talking to someone who isn't there." "Well then, it's everyone else's loss, I think. You still don't have to be mean about it." "Sorry," I was actually feeling guilty for hurting a hallucination's feelings? How far gone was I now? The elevator stopped, and I lowered my voice, as she followed me out and walked beside me. "It's okay, you're probably a little upset, huh?" "Just a little bit. What am I supposed to do? I'm seeing things that can't be, talking animals, pictures of women that flash me... I'm here right now, having a conversation with a person that isn't here... wouldn't you be upset?" "I am upset, because you're still being mean. Just because I don't exist doesn't mean you have to keep reminding me." "I'm sorry," I sighed, "I'm not trying to be mean." She grinned, "So what do you think of my shirt?" "It's a cartoon cat." "I know, it's pretty bitchin, right?" "Pretty, yeah." "I like it, too." "So, how old are you?" "I'm nineteen. Sort of..." "What do you mean, 'sort of?'" "Well, I'm not really any age, I suppose. Anyway, I gotta go. I'll see you later, I guess... bye!" I watched her as she walked off, disappearing around the corner of the building. I went back to my apartment gathered things to donate, others to pawn off, and then called Nate. "Hey man," I greeted, "Just wanted to let you know that I lost my job, and I'm moving out of my apartment." "Geez, I didn't think you'd take it so literal!" he replied, shocked. "Nah, the job thing just kinda happened. I quit rather than submit to a drug test. The apartment thing is just a consequence of having no money for the rent. By the way, did you want my TV? Otherwise, I'm gonna pawn it." "Shit, dude," he sighed miserably, "I really fucked your life up, didn't I?" "Maybe a little, but I can't say I've been bored, what with all the interesting people I've been meeting lately." "What people?" he became suspicious, "Were they asking about me?" "Calm down, dude," I laughed, "No need to worry about these people. Anyway, I'll call you when I get a chance, okay?" "Where're you gonna be staying?" "I'm checking into a psychiatric hospital." "What?" "Relax," I said, "I'm cool, man. I'll handle it." "Shit. Just be careful, dude." I assured Nate I would, and hung up. I looked around at all of my things, mostly boxed up, except for the things I wished to donate or sell. It didn't seem to be very much, seeing it like this. It was a little depressing. So I went to the fridge, got a beer, and opened it. "Are you sure you ought to be drinking that in your condition?" Dr. Suttelmyre eyed the beer bottle in my hand. "I think it's the perfect thing to do in my condition," I replied and took a swig, feeling it burning my throat a little. He chuckled, "I think you're starting to get used to all this." "As opposed to what?" "Well, you could be freaking out, wearing a tinfoil hat to keep the malevolent radio waves from stealing your thoughts and beaming them up to the mother-ship that hovers just above the planet." I laughed, "Tinfoil hats are so eighties." "In that case, it's just about time to bring them back, don't you think?" I took my beer into the living room, dropping onto the couch. "So how do you know that we don't exist?" he asked, "And maybe none of this is real?" "Don't start in on Matrix shit, okay? I've got plenty enough to deal with." "I'm just saying, how do you know? Perhaps perception dictates reality." "And maybe I'll have to perceive myself getting drunk and falling asleep on the couch. What do you think?" Dr. Suttelmyre clucked his tongue, "Alcohol won't solve your problems. When you wake up, you'll still be completely fucked in the head." "Don't they teach you guys not to say shit like that in college?" "What do I know? I don't even exist, right? Anyway, I call it like it is." I drained my beer, setting the bottle aside. I didn't feel like getting drunk anyway. "Do you know a chick named Virginia?" I asked suddenly. He blinked at me, confused, "No, why should I?" "I figured that since you're all in my head, you would all know each other." "We are Legion," the doctor joked , "For we are many!" "Fuck off, doc," I shook my head, "Quit fucking with my head, will you?" "But that's my job description. I 'fuck with peoples' heads.'" I threw my empty beer bottle away, flopped back down on the couch, and he was gone. I fell asleep on the couch, and dreamed that I was walking through an enormous, cavernous room. Along the walls were boxes, all marked with my memories, thoughts, perceptions of people I'd met all throughout my life, and every tidbit of knowledge I'd ever learned. I walked through aisles cluttered with boxes, stacked higher than I could see. I started down another aisle, and there was Virginia, wearing a pretty, mint green sun dress, sifting through the contents of one of the boxes. The Perfect Drug "What are you doing in my dream?" I asked. "Well, hello to you, too," she didn't look up. "What are you looking at?" "You have some weird preferences, you know that?" I walked closer, and saw that she was looking through the contents of a box marked "Porn." "Don't look in that," I frowned, "That's not for your eyes." "What, you think I've never seen porn before? What's your thing with feet?" "Just a curiosity, I guess," I shrugged, flushing a little. I wasn't used to anyone being able to see things about me like this. She tossed the stuff back into the box and closed the lid, "You're kinda weird. I suppose you could be into worse stuff than feet, though, like poop." She walked along, looking at labels on boxes, "There's a lot of stuff in here. I didn't think there could be so much stuff in your head." "Yeah, neither did I. What are you doing here in my dream?" "Looking around, duh! Who's Stacy Worthington?" she opened a box, and actually blushed when she saw the contents, "Oh, a girlfriend... You naughty boy, weren't you kinda young to be doing stuff like that?" "That's private!" I closed the lid, putting myself between her and that particular box, "I was a curious kid." "That's for sure! Well, this little tour is quite revealing, isn't it?" "You're not supposed to be here, this is all my private stuff." "Well, this is your dream, so obviously you wanted me to be here, or else I wouldn't be." "Why would I want you to be here?" "There you go, being mean again," she pouted, "It's like you enjoy hurting my feelings." "I'm sorry, okay?" I touched her shoulder, turning her around, "I'm not trying to be mean." She jumped into my arms, hugging me tightly, "That's better!" I felt a little uncomfortable, because you're not supposed to be able to feel a hallucination, are you? That, and her body was pressed against mine, and she was only nineteen, eight years younger than me... sort of... "What's the matter?" she looked at me, still hugging me, "You're not hugging back." "You're only nineteen, and I'm way older than you... and I don't want you to get the wrong impression." She backed up, took my hand, and pressed it against her breast, which felt firm and nice... but... I pulled my hand back. "What did you do that for?" I asked. "What, did you not like it?" she planted her hands on her hips angrily, "Was it all messed up, or something?" "No..." I stumbled verbally, "It's not that... it felt nice... but that's... you shouldn't have done that." "Well, who is gonna see us? We're standing inside your head, and it's just us two, isn't it? Besides, what are you all skittish about? I've seen the stuff in that box, and you've done way more than just grab a girl's boob, haven't you?" I lowered my eyes, embarrassed, "I was a kid. And you're only nineteen." "I'm not really, if you think about it. I'm not even really here, after all." She took my hand and placed it on her breast again, and I didn't pull away this time. She did have a point, after all, and I was dreaming. So I squeezed a little, feeling her nipple poking against the fabric of her shirt. She suddenly slapped my hand away, crying angrily, "You pervert! What do you think you're doing touching a nineteen-year-old girl like that?" I backed up, shocked, guilty, my face burning, shaking my head. She laughed, doubled over with her hands on her thighs, "You should've seen the look... oh my god, that was the funniest... Ever!!" "Dammit!" I turned and started walking away, but she followed, still giggling hysterically, "I'm sorry... it was... just too tempting... please, just... stop a minute... gotta catch my breath!" I almost kept walking, I was so pissed off, but she grabbed the back of my shirt. "Seriously... I'm sorry," she gasped out, stifling bursts of giggles, "I was just... joking with you... you're so adorable... with your morals... whew!" "Well don't," I warned, "Or I'll really start being mean." "Okay, geez," she replied, annoyed, "I didn't realize you had no sense of humor. I'm sorry, okay? Come on, turn around." I sighed, a little calmer now, and turned around to face her. She jumped up into my arms again, hugging me once more. "There, now isn't that better?" she asked, "Too bad it's time to wake up." I groaned, my face pressed to the cushion, and pushed myself grudgingly to a sitting position. My hair was in disarray, all mussed up on one side, and I had the fabric pattern of the couch indented on the left side of my face. And, I saw as I looked down, I had an erection. Great... I got up, went to the bathroom to pee, and that helped take care of that problem, though, as any guy knows, it's difficult to aim when you gotta pee with an erection. I brushed my teeth, and then used some mouthwash, because my mouth tasted like stale beer and cat turds. I turned on the shower, adjusted the water temperature, and undressed, waiting for it to heat up, which took about a minute. "Woo!" a voice spoke from behind me, "Nice ass!" I jumped into the shower, startled, trying to hide myself, and let out a yelp as cold water hit me. I peered angrily around the curtain to see Virginia standing there, grinning brightly. "Morning, sleepy-head!" "That was not funny," I frowned. "Okay, Mr. Grumpy-pants," she growled, mimicking me with a frown of her own, "Lighten up, will ya'?" The water got warmer, and I started soaping up, "You know, it's not very nice to spy on a guy when he's not dressed." "Yeah, well, you did grab my boob, you big pervert." I sputtered, "I was dreaming... and you put my hand on your boob, remember?" "Yeah, but you left it there." I cursed, ducking my head under the spray. "Anyway, I was just having a little peek, nothing wrong with that, is there?" "Well, yeah, if I don't give you permission, there is something wrong with that." "If I had to ask your permission, I'd never get a peek." "Yeah," I rolled my eyes, "That's kinda the point." I scrubbed some shampoo into my hair, lathering up, irritated at Virginia, who had insinuated herself into my life with a tenacity unmatched by any previous hallucination, including the hilarious Dr. Suttelmyre. "You know, for a crazy guy, you sure don't take advantage of your craziness, do you?" she asked. I peeked around the curtain, and she was sitting atop the counter next to the sink. "What is that supposed to mean?" "Well, if I was hallucinating stuff, I would hallucinate all kinds of cool things." "It's not like I can control it. After all, you're here." "Mean!" she reminded me. "Sorry, but you see what I mean, don't you?" "It's still mean. You know, I may joke around with you and stuff like that, but at least I don't say hurtful things to people who just wanna be my friend." I looked at her again, and saw that she was crying, staring at the floor. "I'm sorry, you're right," I assured her, "I didn't mean anything by it." "Yeah, right," she swiped at the tears as they trailed down her cheeks. "Really, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that." She looked up at me, still wiping her eyes, "Why are you always so mean to me? Are you angry at me because I'm here, and you don't want me to be?" "I'm just a little annoyed, that's all. All of this is still a little difficult to get used to, and I'm struggling a little bit. Really, you're welcome to stay as long as you want. Just take it easy on me, okay?" "Do you mean it?" she asked, sniffling. "Yeah," I promised, "I mean it. Give me a smile." She stuck her tongue out at me. "I'll take it. All right, let me finish showering, okay?" I rinsed the shampoo out, and then the soap, and, when I opened my eyes, she was directly in front of me, in the shower with me, completely nude. I started, jumping back and almost falling down. "Fuck!" I cried out, "Dammit!" "Easy on the language, there's a lady present," she grinned. "I thought I asked you to let me finish showering. You scared the shit out of me!" "I thought I'd help," she said. "You thought you'd help yourself to another peek," I corrected. "Well, maybe that too..." I got out of the shower, and she followed, watching as I wrapped a towel around me. "What are you being modest for?" she asked, "Got something to hide?" "No," I retorted, and then she giggled. "Looks like it to me," she pointed down, and I looked, dismayed to find that I had popped another erection. I turned, stalking out of the bathroom. "You should dry off," she suggested, "You're getting water all over the floor." I choked back my reply, trying not to hurt the feelings of someone who wasn't there... shit, I was completely around the bend, wasn't I? I dried off quickly, and pulled on a pair of boxers. "Ah, a boxers kind of guy, huh?" I sighed, and then gasped as she reached around me and grabbed right onto my erection. "What are you doing?" I tried to pull free. "This," she squeezed me, and my legs almost gave out from under me, "Now quit squirming and relax." "This isn't right," I insisted, "You shouldn't be doing this." "I'm not," she shot right back, "I'm just a hallucination, aren't I? I'm not even here, so it's almost like you're playing with yourself." For a hallucination, her hands sure as hell felt solid to me as she grasped my dick, rubbing it through my boxers. "Still," I grit my teeth, biting back a groan, "I don't think-" "Good, why don't you try that and relax a little, will you? Have a little fun for a change." She fished it out through the slot on the front, and laughed, "Well, your cock is enjoying this, isn't it?" I gasped, "Watch your language, I'm told there's a lady present." She giggled, "Shut up." She grasped it and began stroking it, her hands slightly cool against the heat of my flesh. She suddenly moved around to face my front. "There, that's not so bad, is it?" "I..." I began, and then relented, "No, it's not." "That's better. When a girl grabs ahold of you, it's usually time to listen and do what she says." I sat down on my bed, and she knelt in front of me, "You think I can take the whole thing?" "Wait, what?" She leaned forward and took the head of my dick into her mouth, took a deep breath, and then began easing it in, her tongue slathering it along the way, until she had about half of my seven inches nestled in her mouth. Then she got the next half inch, but gagged before she could get any more. She backed out. "I guess not," she pouted, and then slipped me back into her mouth, which, for a hallucination, was extremely hot and wet. I leaned back onto my elbows while she sucked on me, her limpid green eyes on mine, her hands on my thighs. For another few minutes, there was just her, in a manner of speaking, and me, and an act that still boggles my mind too much to explain. Then she backed off, my dick coated with her saliva. "What, you think you're the only one who should be feeling good right now, just because you're a real boy? Listen up, Pinocchio, there better be some pleasure coming my way, too, or you're gonna feel some teeth." She crawled up on top of me, straddling me, moving upward so that her cunt, which looked amazing, considering the facts, a thatch of blonde hair, trimmed neatly, perched above it. Immersed into my own world of hallucinations, I might as well be smelling things that weren't there, too , right, which I was, because the scent of her was so inviting that I felt a little dizzy from it. I dove right in, so to speak. Her moans vibrated throughout her body, which writhed on my face, her thighs pressing tightly against the sides of my head as she ground herself against my mouth. She clutched my hair in her hands, almost painfully, and I licked faster, catching the unbelievably copious amounts of juices that flowed from her in my mouth. "Ah, shit!" she whimpered a few moments later, "Shit, that feels good! Oh, shit, I'm gonna cum! Oh shit-oh-shit-oh...HAAAAAHHH!" I held on for dear life as she bucked and writhed, trying not to drown as her cum drenched my mouth and got in my nose. Finally, she slowed, and then stopped, climbing off of me, gasping for breath, her body still shuddering and jerking, and she lay on her side, her eyes closed, her breaths exploding from her lips. "Oh, shit," she laughed weakly, "That was so intense! I've never been able to make myself cum that much." I reached over the side of the bed and grabbed my towel, still damp from my shower, and wiped my mouth and nose, and my chin and neck. Then I held it out to her, but she shook her head. "Oh, don't go thinking we're done here. There's still that to tend to," she indicated my dick, which throbbed for attention. She got up and straddled my hips, looking down between her legs as she guided me, parting her inner labia with her other hand, and then she pushed me into the tight, drenched, and hot territory of her cunt. She sighed, and then winced, as I sank deeper into her, and then giggled once I was fully buried in her. "Wow, that's deep!" she looked down, "Fill 'er up!" She began moving her hips, her hands now on my waist, going slowly at first as she adjusted, and then faster. "Fuck not, lest ye be fucked," she grinned at me, "so it says in the good book." "I'm pretty... unh... sure it doesn't say that," I laughed. "I didn't say which good book," she winked. She rode me, and bounced, and then gyrated, moaning, keening, gasping, and it was all I could do just to keep up with her pace, so frenzied was she. "Easy," I grunted, "I'm getting close... don't wanna end too quickly, do you?" She climbed off, pulling me with her until I was atop her, "Don't worry, I'll bet I can go all night. How about you?" I entered her again, and she cried out, "Geez, you big perv, don't hold back on my account!" "Don't call me that," I warned, "It's bad enough you're only nineteen. I don't need a reminder." "Oh, come on," she pouted, "If you were really so worried about it, you wouldn't have that cock buried so deep in me, would you?" "Seriously," I thrust, "Cut it out or I'll stop right where I am." "Fine, you big spoilsport, but you better not stop, or I'm gonna haunt you like a poltergeist." Her firm, smooth legs wrapped around my waist, her ankles locked, just in case I even considered stopping, pulling me deeper, her hands clutching my forearms. Her moans increased in volume, and then pitch, and then became breathless shrieks. Her tightness was tighter now, and wetter, as she came, and, though I was hoping for a personal endurance record, it was more than I could bear. I groaned as my balls tightened up, and then I came deep inside her, shuddering with each blast, even as she soaked me in her own juices. I tried to back up and withdraw, but her legs tightened, her fingernails finding purchase on my back as she dug in, preventing me from pulling out. So I lay on her, using my elbows to keep most of my weight off of her, and she whimpered as my dick, still hard for the moment, pushed into her a little as a result. For almost five minutes, until my erection was all used up, she refused to let me go. I kissed her cheek, and then her lips, and then we were kissing deeply, and I was continuously amazed at the realness of her, which defied any logic I could throw at it. Then her legs relaxed, and I slid over onto the bed. I lay on my side, and she put an around me, holding me close. She rested one thigh on my side, and I caressed it, as I looked at her. She looked back at me, her eyes glittering, her lips curled up in a smile. "What?" I mumbled. "Oh, nothing," the smile remained. "What? You gotta joke you're trying to hold in?" "I'm holding something in, all right, but it's no joke." I rolled my eyes, "Fine, go ahead and say it. I'm a perv, right?" "I think that's obvious already. No, I was just thinking that maybe, when you've... recovered, we could try some of that stuff I saw in the porn box in your head." I sighed, "Well, after what we've done, they'll be coming any minute now with the nets, ready to strap me into the huggy-coat." "You sure do know how to make a girl feel good, don't you?" she replied sardonically. I winced, "Damn, me and my mouth. Sorry. On the other hand, I think you kinda enjoyed my mouth a little earlier, didn't you?" She glared for a moment, and then broke out in a giggle, "You big ol' pervert. Of course I enjoyed your mouth, I came all over it didn't I?" "You almost drowned me," I smiled back, "It was almost biblical." "Be glad you didn't keep going. I almost completely lost control of myself. I might've suffocated you, you know?" "I'll keep that in mind." "I'll be back a little later, I think," she got up, walked out of the bedroom, and I didn't bother getting up to see if she'd vanished. There was no point trying to make sense in any of this, I decided, it was better just to go with it, even with Virginia teasing me along the way. I finally got up, started to clean myself off... really no point in that, I saw as I looked down, as there was no clean-up necessary, not even a wet spot on the front of my boxers, not even my own spend. I got dressed, still reeling a little, and walked into the living room. I was famished, I realized, so I cooked a cheese omelet, my mouth watering... and still tasting of Virginia. How could that be? I had no idea, and no logic to draw upon that made a dent. I turned off the burner, slid the omelet out of the pan onto a plate, and dug in right there at the counter. Why not? I'm a bachelor, and I could, right? I finished the omelet, washed the plate, fork, and pan, and left them on the counter, well, for the same reason I'd eaten at the counter. I had a thought, as I replayed this morning's events in my mind, that maybe this wasn't all bad. After all, I had just gotten laid by a hallucination, so how bad could it be?