and Mildred woke up in the soft bed next to her drug dealer. Her body was sore, the good kind that she would get from getting her lovers to go harder & faster. It was like eating spicy food: it hurt, but the pain was mirthful, like entering nirvana & experiencing pleasurable annihilation for a few minutes.

Last night she was wasted from five Sidecars she downed at Pianos on Ludlow Street. Her date was boring, but he paid well. He realized halfway through she wasn’t interested, but he was a good sport, nonetheless. While she was in the bathroom fixing her dress, she recalled that her dealer Mark lived a couple of blocks away. She messaged him.

She—insistent on being polite—told her date that they should be friends, & he took it well. He said he spotted his ex at the bar & was gonna go try to fuck her. she bid him farewell & tried not to fall on her ass in her heels on the way to Mark’s apartment.

Mark has tattoos. Sleeves. They are actually pretty tasteful for a petty criminal. She remembers he mentioned something about art school. Was it grad school? she wasn’t listening since he was carefully balancing the MDMA crystal between his index & thumb & she was sneaking peaks at his arms—he wore a tank top.

He looked like he fucked like spicy food.

She didn’t have money. Her father didn’t add more money to her expense account, hence the boring date. She had lived in Stuy Town for two years. She was an undergrad at NYU, studying economics. People assume nepobabies are boring degenerates snorting coke on a yacht. Nonsense, she says to herself. She’s an ambitious striver with a chip on her shoulder. Anyway, she was gonna offer companionship.

That was her word for it. She couldn’t bring herself to use the word. The word. The Logos but the message being “you are a whore.” She would be his whore. Those arms. she hope his dick is thick enough.

She rang the doorbell & walked up the stairs. He was waiting for him, standing in his doorway with his metal door wide open.

“You look wasted,” he said. “Guess imma get wasted, too.”

Thank god he is a gentleman. “I—uh—had five sidecars.”

“Exquisite taste. I’ll pour myself five shots. I got some Standart...”

“That’s good. Good vodka ... so ... I ain’t got money, haha.” Mildred adjusted her skin-tight dress to make herself more appealing. “I was hoping ... to work something out...”

Mark gulped down the five shots. “So ... you think you can waltz in here with that tight dress & seduce me to get free X?”

She felt a bit hurt by this, but she realized that he was challenging her. “You think this dress is too tight?” She thought it made her boobs look nice. Then she pushed them up. She had no bra, of course.

“I do...” He took two steps & was in front of me. He groped her left breast with his right hand, gently, like he was handling a delicate crystal egg.

“They’re not very big, but they’re worth a few grams of coke at least.” She giggled, a laugh that wasn’t fake, because it did tickle, but she was enjoying this.

He groped her breasts then pulled her toward him & began kissing her. So strong, so powerful. A little violent, but not too much. She felt like a gazelle in her lion’s arms. He didn’t make her feel like a cheap whore. It was one of the wettest French kisses she’d ever had, & she couldn’t keep her tongue off his face. Ugh, his skin is so soft. Normally, she like a bearded man, but that smooth face was too lickable. He grabbed her ass with both hands like he was trying to lift her up.