Marijuana Girl by N. R. De Mexico

was happening. She said it. "Nothing's happening."
    "Maybe it won't," Frank said, discouragingly.
    "Will I do anything funny--I mean silly?"
    "Of course not," Frank said. "It's not like liquor. You don't lose control or anything."
    She drew again, still aware that it had no effect, then let her hand hang down holding the tiny cigarette. Suddenly she became aware of the night beauty of Washington Square Park. The cross atop the Judson church, glowing against the deep blue of the sky caught her eye, and the streetlamps against the facade of the arch. Each was a detail worth infinite attention. There was a faint, warm haze lying low against the ground, lending the whole park an atmosphere of unreality. Beyond the Square the lighted windows of a row of tall apartment buildings had a crystalline clarity--so clear were they that even from where she sat, nearly a sixth of a mile away, she could see well into the rooms, see the people moving about, see what they were doing.
    It was as though every window of those huge apartment buildings were a stage on which a special performance was taking place for her benefit. Even the sky was richer and more velvety ease. How strangely wonderful and lovelier than any she had seen before, with deep-glowing blue stars--all warm and close and friendly--peering down at her. "God!" she said. "It's beautiful here." Then she remembered the stick and drew on it again. She turned to Frank, "But nothing's happening."
    "Are you kidding?" he said. "No."
    "Look around again. Here. Lean back against me." He put his arm around her shoulders as she sat on the bench and drew her close to him. Her skin was suddenly tremendously sensitive. She felt that she could count the individual strands of the wool in his sports jacket where it touched her shoulders. The warm breeze, more like July than May, caressed her skin, touched her instep, her toes, her ankles--slipped lithe fingers of air over her calves, fluttered her skirt and drifted upward over her thighs, passing over her stomach and chest like a sensual caress. Her body felt weightless, and her mind at complete rest.
    Jerry said, "We got to get back for the next set, folks. You coming?"
    Frank said, "We'll be along in a while."
    "See you," Don said, and the three went off together. Joyce was hardly aware of their going, watching them as they walked through the archway of light formed by the trees. All they had become was part of the absolute, inutterable beauty of the park.
    The important thing, though, was the feeling inside her--the wonderful, wonderful feeling. Now, as never before in her life, she felt safe, protected by Frank's arm about her. She snuggled closer against him, and his arm tightened responsively. It was like--like being in Daddy's arms, protected and safe and warm.
    She turned, suddenly, and kissed Frank full on the lips.
    6 ~ Compulsion
    "What time did you get in last night ..."
    The sharp voice tore at the lovely fabric of the dream, shredding it into smoky tissues.
    "Did you hear me, Joyce Taylor? What time did you get in?"
    Slowly, with deliberate insolence, Joyce let herself come awake. She stretched luxuriously and yawned, half-rising on the bed to lend herself greater ease. The covers fell away from her; and there was another, immediate shrill outcry.
    "Why aren't you wearing your nightgown?"
    "Aunt Priscilla, can't you leave me alone?"
    "What is the matter with you, Joyce. You've been acting like a maniac, and you've had that Thrine boy nearly frantic--calling me at one o'clock in the morning ..."
    "Oh! Tony."
    "Yes, Tony," her aunt said.
    "What did he say?" Joyce demanded, suddenly frightened.
    "He didn't say anything. He just wanted to know if you had come home."
    "What time is it?"
    "Eight o'clock. Now tell me, what time did you get in last night?"
    "Aunt Priscilla, I don't have the faintest idea. Does that satisfy you? Now I've got to get up." She started to scramble from the bed.
    "Don't you dare get out of that bed. I'll get your