“You should come over.” The text had been staring at her for an hour. She knew it was a summons, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to see him.
In the end, she quietly slid out of bed and got dressed.
They sat on his couch. He was looking at her, but she stared at the blunt she was holding with her fingers. The minutes of silence between them grew until they felt like hours instead.
She noticed the high heels that weren’t hers beneath the coffee table without resistance.
She hit the blunt once more and passed it to him. Her voice, sounding like softened honey, asked him what he would give her.
He smirked. “Weed smoke and slow strokes, baby girl.”
She closed her eyes.
She always appreciated the way he fucked her with the rapture of 10,000 slaves reaching the Promised Land. Sometimes, she could feel his dick pulsate with happiness inside her.
He always appreciated her eagerness to open to him. Not just physically, but mentally, too. With each stroke, his thoughts and wishes invaded further in until they reached the corners of her mind.
She imagined that their energies formed a complete cosmic circle. He imagined that they were the original Man and Woman.
Neither imagined that they were both the drug and the cure, for they were too busy thinking about the next hit.