some jungle DJ she knew), but we still only had 2 tickets. Somehow the party was transforming into the place to be in Los Angeles tonight, Kris and Sal’s mobile phones started to ring incessantly after 8 o’clock with friends and casual acquaintances trying to get hold of tickets. Of course, the idea of hardcore techno was pleasing to Kris, and he definitely wanted to go. Joan looked as doubtful about the whole thing as I felt, and Sal seemed as indifferent as ever. I was thinking we should dump Kris and head back to the Wayward to do more blow. I fucking hoped so.
By 11:15, Joan and I were heading back to her house with the blow, and Sal and Kris were cruising over to The Spot. We arranged to meet up at the 3 Clubs at 1:30 to work our night out, and Joan and I decided to get a little more fucked up in the meantime. I was viewing everything through a haze of coke, Ecstasy and sleep deprivation. We arrived back to the empty house and headed straight to her bedroom. I cut out four lines, four thick, long lines. I figured it was all I could do to even feel the effects. I handed her the CD, and she did her line, struggling to get it all up in one go. I watched her face wrinkle in discomfort as I pressed play on the CD player.
“ Jesus Christ,” she murmured.
She handed me the CD case and I did a line with the only functioning nostril I had left. I snorted, chunks of coke going straight to my already numb throat; the length and width of the line enough to make me feel the kind of burn that I hadn't felt since my first line of the night. The taste of chemicals in my mouth and Praise You by Fatboy Slim blaring from the hi-fi and the fire in my nostrils creeping up into my skull…
As Joan started in on her second line, I began to feel bad. Real bad, real quick. A stabbing pain shot across my forehead. My stomach turned, I felt bile rising in my throat. I started shaking uncontrollably as I felt my body go cold.
“ Put the coke down,” I croaked, and as she did I fell back on the bed. My vision started to waver, making me feel sea sick, so I closed my eyes hard. I could feel a bead of cold sweat making its way down my temple. I opened one eye cautiously.
“ Are you OK?” she asked, suddenly concerned, leaning over me.
“ It's fucked me. It’s fucked me,” I gurgled as way of an explanation.
“ Shhh, it's OK. It's OK,” she whispered, as she massaged my throbbing forehead with her cool, soft hands. I started to feel a little better. My stomach growled, ominously. She continued to work her fingers on my forehead, and I started to breathe slowly. My stomach growled again, weakly, after ten more minutes of this. It was the sound of my body submitting. It was as if she had absorbed the bad feelings through her fingertips.
She leant over and kissed me. My pager went off. I checked it: message centre. Sal Mackenzie.
“ Hey guys, it’s me. It sucked at the party so I'm on my way to 3's, so either head on over or page me. Bye.”
I cursed silently and broke the news to Joan. The thought of heading over to Hollywood and Vine to drink at 3's right then wasn't the most enticing of ideas, but I decided to let her make the call. She paged Sal back.
“ Sal, it's us. Head on over to the Wayward, we're here. We had a bit of a situation here, but it’s all right now. Bring everyone. Bye.”
She walked over to the bed after hanging up the phone and sat down next to me.
“ How long d'you think we have?” I asked, quietly.
“ Long enough,” she replied, handing me a condom and kissing me hard. We made love, missionary position. My gaze never left hers the whole time, and she talked to me in an excited whisper throughout. My hands mapped out her body, her breasts her hips in the darkness, before we finished, dressed and went downstairs without a word.
When the party restarted at the Wayward, I was completely out of it. We had cut the remaining line from earlier into four generous lines to spread it out a bit more. I
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