Sarah’s mum had not taken notice of anything Sarah did for a long time now. Ever since her dad had run off with a cleaner from his work her mum had been in a downward spiral of ever decreasing spirits, and an upward spiral of ever increasing consumption of spirits. Her parents’ history was always something that upset Sarah whenever she thought about it. She knew that her parents were just not meant to be together.
They had spent one night together and her mum had got pregnant after that one night. Fair enough, her dad stood by her mum and married her, but even Sarah could work out that she was a little mistake and indeed her mum had even once kindly put it to her when she was drunk one night, ‘Sarah, you are a little mistake’.
Even after hearing this, Sarah, who loved her mum immensely like any daughter does, tried everything to get her off the drink. She tried removing all alcohol out of the house but this just resulted in trips to the local boozers and Sarah had been called out many times to the local drinking establishments to come and collect her highly inebriated mother.
Not wanting to make their problems anymore public than they already were, Sarah tried a different tack and hid all of her mum’s bank account cards and savings books so she had no way of purchasing the demon drink. All this resulted in was her mum taking identification down to the bank and withdrawing money without needing her cards or books. So, Sarah again tried a different tack. This involved, during rare moments of sobriety, trying to talk to her mum about her definite problem.
Sarah had done her research and knew that they did have a problem. When she removed all alcohol out of the house and her mum did not have a drink, she noticed that after a short time she started sweating, shaking and she also noticed that she became anxious and agitated. To get over this Sarah allowed her mum small amounts of alcohol but this just resulted in a total loss of control. She demanded that Sarah go out and get her more to drink. When Sarah refused she got highly angry and that was when the trips to the local bars started. She definitely knew they had trouble when Sarah came down in the early morning and saw that her mum had not gone to work nor phoned to tell them that she was not going to work, but was instead sat watching television with a large glass of vodka on one side of the table next to her and a large glass of wine on the other side. The sun had not even risen. Needless to say, after a few more mornings like this, she was sacked. Ever since those mornings, Sarah knew that her mum was an alcoholic.
She had tried persuading her mum to seek help by talking to her, but her mum denied that she needed help. “It is just a phase I am going through since your dad left.” The phase had been lasting over eighteen months now. Of course, any sentence mentioning the ‘d’ word led her mum to take another drink.
Sarah had taken to leaving leaflets around the house from local alcohol organizations, but these went unread. Eventually Sarah contacted the organization herself and asked them for help. They told her to try and bring her mum to a meeting. This took around a month of subtle persuasion until her mum agreed to go but she insisted that she went on her own. Sarah knew this was a bad idea and indeed, it turned out to be a very bad idea.
Her mum did attend the meeting; however, she was highly drunk when she did. The meeting organizers did not mind this as much as the fact that during the meeting she pulled out a bottle of whiskey out of her bag and started to drink it. When she then started to offer the bottle around to the other attendees she was asked, in not quite so polite terms, to leave. It was after this disaster that Sarah gave up. She decided that she could not help her mum anymore and left her to her downward and upward spirals of spirits.
Sarah, without the guiding hand of a parent, her father did not help her because Sarah refused to acknowledge that she had a father anymore, became, to say the least, a little wild. She was out partying near enough every night and had built up quite a good reputation for being a party girl. She was also building a reputation for being extremely liberal with whom she took to bed.
Knowing that her mum would be comatose by midnight, there was no problem in taking young men back home and having some fun with them. Over the last twelve months she had tried lots of men in all shapes and sizes, and slowly worked through the book of sexual positions she kept under her bed. One time, when she was on the living room carpet in her favourite position of being taken from behind, her mother had actually walked past them into the kitchen, got a glass of some strong liquor, and returned back upstairs without even noticing her or the black man who had his penis lodged deeply inside her daughter’s vagina.
Her promiscuity did come with its problems. She had had an abortion in the last few months and she knew very well that she had Chlamydia, but this did not stop her having copious amounts of unprotected sex with a plethora of partners. The abortion though was one thing that she did not want to experience again, so after the shower she walked naked to her bedroom and took a contraceptive pill. She refused to use condoms as the feeling of a man ejaculating into her, the feelings of desirability that this gave her, was one of the most enjoyable aspects of sex for her. It was after taking this pill that she started to feel nauseous again.
She lay down on her bed and this helped a little, but not enough. She jumped up and returned quickly to the bathroom and knelt down in front of the toilet not for the first time that day. Nothing happened though and she was tempted to stick her fingers down her throat but she resisted. Instead, after a few more minutes knelt there, she returned to her bedroom and started to pace around, feeling again restless as she had in the morning. She was puzzled as to what was making her feel like this and then she remembered Peter’s words, “Everything comes at a price Sarah.” and then the thought occurred to her that she was addicted.
Although she did not realize it, it was nothing quite so dramatic; however, she was experiencing a severe cocaine comedown. The amount she had taken through the night and the morning was a lot. Being that she was also not used to it resulted in her having all the symptoms of a very heavy comedown. She tried lying down again and relaxing but as soon as she closed her eyes an image flashed in front of her, the same image that she had experienced in the morning, the image of the cocaine bag resting on the bedside table. Her eyes flashed open and this time she said out loud, ‘Oh my God, I am addicted!’
Panicking she stood up and walked across and picked up her handbag off the floor where she had flung it before. She removed Peter’s business card and her phone and she called him.
‘Hello? Who’s this?’
‘Peter, it’s me, Sarah. I’m so glad you picked up. Listen, I am worried. What is happening to me? Am I addicted? All I can keep on thinking about is cocaine! And I feel awful.’
‘Oh, hi Sarah. You know something, now is not a good time. I am at my grandma’s having something to eat and I pressed the loudspeaker button by accident.’
‘Oh shit! I mean, shit, sorry.’
‘Look, I will call you back soon. Bye.’
Sarah threw her phone onto her bed and then she flopped down onto it cursing herself. It was only a few minutes later that her phone rang.
‘Jesus Christ Sarah! What are you doing?’
‘I am so sorry Peter; I don’t know what is going on. I don’t feel at all good. I feel sick, I can’t stay still and now to top it all I’ve got a headache developing!’
‘I’m sorry Sarah but there is not a lot I can do. Remember what I said, everything comes at a price. Look, I can’t really talk now; she has only gone to make a cup of tea. You are having a comedown. It is like a hangover after drinking. All you can do is roll with it and it will fade away. You are not addicted, no. What you are feeling is like hair of the dog, you know, when you sometimes might have a drink in the morning and it eases you hangover. It is the same thing you are feeling now. Just because sometimes you might have a drink to ease the hangover doesn’t mean you are an alcoholic does it?’
‘Tell me about it. I know all about alcohol. Thanks for telling me. I was panicking.’
‘No reason to panic babe. It w
ill fade away.’
‘Okay. Thanks. Sorry if I got you in trouble with your gran.’
‘No, it is okay. Don’t think she understood what you were saying. She is coming back. What are you doing Wednesday night?’
‘Nothing. Why?’
‘Be at my house for eight. We will go out, that is if you still want to?’
‘Yeah, of course I do.’
‘Sorry, gotta go. See you Wednesday.’
Sarah did try to say goodbye but she was just talking to a silent line. Instead she threw her phone to the other side of her double bed and closed her eyes. ‘I just want to not feel like this anymore!’ she said out loud.
Slowly the night’s activities and lack of sleep caught up with her and she fell asleep, thankfully for her, away from the effects of the comedown. What Peter had decided not to tell her was that the comedown was going to last for quite a few days. She would feel lethargic, unable to concentrate and maybe even depressed.
Thinking that she will feel ill for days, Peter thought, as he sipped his tea and pretended he was listening to his grandma, how he can carry on enjoying her body without having to pretend to like her, to pretend to date her. Then he considered how much she had taken and how long her come down was going to last. Thinking about Wednesday he realised that she would be aching for some more, for some relief from the comedown. So he decided to set an outrageous price when she asked for it and when she said that could not afford it he would say she could pay for it with sex. Peter thought he would get her more and more addicted and the only way she would be able to pay for it would be with sex. He called himself a genius, congratulated himself and then stated why had he not thought of this before?
*
‘Don’t bother!’
Michelle was stood in her drive-way as she listened to Sally end the conversation. She held her phone out in front of her and for a few moments stared at the screen.
‘Shit! Shit, shit, shit!’ She stamped her foot as she exclaimed out loud and she spoke another, harsher swear word. She found that a part of her was straining to call Sally back and she had to physically resist the motions her thumb wanted to make. Instead, she stamped her foot again, swore again, and continued along her drive-way to her front door, muttering to herself as she walked, ‘I can’t believe she saw us! I was going to tell her. Oh shitty, shitty and more shitty! She’ll never speak to me again!’ By this time she had reached her door and upon opening it she was greeted to a glorious sound.
Her mother’s beautiful, operatic voice was drifting through the house and caressed Michelle’s ears with its beautiful tones. She stood on the brink of the house waiting for her father’s baritone voice to join in the song. When it did not, she knew that he must be out. He always sang when she sang, it was just the way it was, and always had been, ever since Michelle could remember.
Michelle was well aware how her parents had met and even if someone did not know the tale they only had to listen to them sing together to be able to guess the tale. They had met when they were both still young, eighteen her mother, twenty her father, both of them performing in a West-End musical. In her mother’s own words it was literally love at first sight. This handsome, dashing gentleman sang with her in rehearsals and everybody who watched them that first day knew that they were destined to be together. Their voices softly caressed each other, discovering each other, then as they became bolder they crashed together until they mingled and intertwined and became as one. Michelle knew that after that dramatic meeting of two perfect voices, her father asked her mother out to dinner which of course she accepted. Since then, they had never been apart, both professionally and personally.
Now, for a moment or two longer, she listened to her mother sing in what Michelle could only presume was Italian, and then she advanced into the house to find her. She found her in the kitchen and Michelle was greeted with a sight that was again so typical of life in their house that it would have seemed unusual if her mother was not elbow deep in flour making something delicious no doubt for the dinner party they were hosting that night. Michelle let out a little sigh of contentment and her mother turned as she heard her daughter clip-clop across the tiled kitchen floor.
‘Now then young lady, where have you been all night?’
‘Sorry I didn’t call. Were you worried?’
‘A little. I was going to call you if you hadn’t turned up soon.’
‘Ah, okay, sorry.’ Michelle reached past her mother, quickly grabbed a handful of raisins and popped them into her mouth before her mother could stop her.
She did, however, give her a look and say, ‘Some things never change. Where were you last night?’
‘At Clare’s.’
‘Deary me Michelle, you are perhaps the worst liar in the world. I can always tell and always have been able to tell. Now, tell me the truth, like you always have been able to.’
Michelle knew her mother was right. They had always had a completely open relationship and Michelle knew how lucky she was to have a parent to whom she could open her heart to.
‘If you stayed at a boy’s, then tell me you stayed at a boy’s. I won’t be mad. You are a woman now and you are just following your natural urges.’
‘Mother, try not to sound like a presenter on a nature programme! Natural urges?!’
‘Don’t roll your eyes at me young lady!’
‘Sorry. Oh mum, I met the most amazing guy! Well, I didn’t meet him, I already knew him, but we have never really talked together properly. He is fantastic! We just talked and talked and talked all night. Then we went back his brother’s apartment and he opened his heart to me about some really personal things, and, and he nearly cried which shows a sensitive side, then we kissed and then…’
‘I think we can safely say you can stop there! I don’t need the gory details thank you very much. I just hope you were safe.’
‘Mother!’
‘Don’t roll your eyes! You look about fourteen when you roll your eyes!’
‘Sorry. Anyway, I didn’t sleep with him. Don’t look at me like that! We didn’t. He didn’t want to.’
‘Pardon? He didn’t want to?! That’s a first.’
‘Yeah, he didn’t. Like I said, we just talked and had a coffee. I must have fallen asleep because I woke up on the sofa this morning with a blanket over me and that was it. I left and came home.’
‘Wow! He didn’t want to? Sounds like a catch to me darling. I am happy for you.’
‘He said it would only spoil things.’
‘He sounds great. Are you going to see him again?’
‘Yeah, I think so. He said he is going to call and we are going to go out.’
‘Very good. You go and get a shower now and freshen up. I simply must finish this cake.’
‘Dinner party tonight? Who is coming?’
‘Who isn’t? Everyone from the show. Why don’t you come and not go to your granddad’s? There will be lots of eligible young men here.’
‘I think I am okay now mum. Anyway, you know I hate those young men. They are so pretentious and arrogant. Oh look at me! I’m an actor. I am so handsome and dashing. You want to sleep with me don’t you? Erm, no, but I do really need a bucket to throw up into!’
‘Michelle!’
‘Sorry, but I think I will give it a miss. I am quite happy with Simon, fingers crossed anyway.’
‘I hope it works out.’
‘Me too.’
‘Anyway, out, out, out! Kitchen is off limits for the next hour!’
‘Okay. Can I get a cup of tea though?’
‘Yes, quickly.’
Michelle made herself a cup of tea and then went upstairs to her bedroom. She placed the cup of tea on a table and flopped onto the bed on her back. Staring at the ceiling, Michelle thought about last night, her conversations with Sally and how on earth she was going to mend things between them. She knew that she should not have gone back to the apartment, but she also knew that she wanted the night to go on and on and that had
meant going back there with him. Michelle’s thoughts continued to race through her mind and eventually she realized that she was going nowhere. ‘I smell!’ she said out loud. ‘Time for a shower.’
She sprang off her bed and switched on her music system. Although not quite a Bang and Olufsen like Sally’s, it was still a good system. It was linked into her home cinema system that her father got her for her eighteenth birthday so she had surround sound when watching movies. It was also linked up to her Sky+ box that her parents had also paid to have installed in her room. Again, although no Sally’s father, Michelle’s parents were not exactly struggling. A large house in a nice area of the town, two BMWs on the drive and a holiday chalet in Switzerland all told Michelle that her parents could afford to fill her life with these little luxuries.
The music that blared out of the large speakers was a Red Hot Chili Peppers song and Michelle hummed away as she listened, occasionally joining in with the lyrics. She removed the cardigan she had forgotten to give back to her friend, her top and then bra. Even out of the constraints of her bra her breasts did not sag at all. They remained were they were, full, firm and very large. Then removing her skirt and knickers she stood in front of a full length mirror and examined her body.
First of all she started by looking at her breasts, admiring what she classed as her best part of her body, making sure they were in their usual place and not sagging. They were and they were not, so her gaze moved down to her stomach, waist, hips and thighs which all bulged a little. ‘Need to lose weight! Get to the gym this week – no excuses!’
Her eyes then focused on the dark triangle in between her legs and she shuddered as she thought about the last man’s hand that had explored her most sensitive and intimate parts. She knew that she should really report him, but she also knew that there would no point. ‘Who are they going to listen to, a drunk me or a sober doorman?’
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