As Oscar’s high reaches dazzling heights, he spills his secret to Laurie.
Oscar B.A. Part 24
Laurie’s martini tasted like his presence.
Small, sharp and strong it was ice cold. Then it burned, carrying the class-A cargo I’d just swallowed, as if a trail of gasoline had been lit down my throat.
‘Yipee-ki-yay, motherf*cker,’ I heard myself say before realising I had; the fiery stream igniting a store of adrenaline seemingly hidden away in my gut until that moment.
Or, perhaps, it was simply the two pills beginning to fizz and bubble in my booze-enriched stomach acid.
One to lift me to dazzling, sweaty heights of abandon. To carry me away from reality on surging psychedelic waves of amphetamine floodwater. Push, pull and drown me in a writhing, hedonistic mass of lust, lips and limbs
Pain suppressed. Pleasure tenfold. Inhibitions banished.
Not that I have many.
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