Tina staggered into one of the restroom stalls and sat on the can panting breathlessly. She had never experienced the touch of a woman. She was stunned. She leaned back against the toilet tank and ran her hands up her silky thighs until she reached her throbbing cunt. She jumped as a forefinger grazed her stimulated clit. She let go of her thighs and ran one hand inside her blouse, where she cupped one soft full breast. She was still wired, but suddenly tired after a full day on the Cantina floor followed by this climax. She pressed her thighs together and felt a warmth pour over her. The thought of Nyla’s lips pressed against hers was so tantalizing she felt as if she could never get to her feet again. Just then the door of the head opened with a screech and she heard another woman walk in.
“Tina, you in here?” Mandy said.
Tina sighed like a kid being awakened from the ultimate Disneyland dream. “Yeah, it’s me,” she said.
“I heard you were working the night shift with me,” Mandy said, combing her hair and straightening her Mexican skirt and gathered white blouse.
Tina opened her apron pocket on her skirt and pulled out a small amber vial. She didn’t want to take the chance that Mandy might hear her snort the harsh powder. “Yeah, I’ll be working with you tonight,” she said, tapping a small mountain of crank on the web of skin between her forefinger and thumb.
“Well get your ass out of there, the happy hour crowd is due to start arriving.” Mandy was happy as a clam and it was evident in every word. She whistled at herself in the mirror and headed for the door.
Tina heard it close and immediately snorted the powder off her hand. It hit the back of her throat with a blast that shook her senses. She wasn’t sure she liked the harsh flavor and the dripping sensation down the back of her throat, but she liked the itching sensation between her thighs, the wild thoughts it spurred, and the drive it caused. She was a hopping good bar waitress on the stuff, darting from table to table. When she was wired, even Steve turned her on. She didn’t mind blowing him for another bag. She’d go home, snort a couple of lines and play with her clit till dawn.
As the rush to her fried brain cells began and a new wave of energy enveloped her, she headed toward the door.
Steve got up off the gravel ground slowly. After the lashing Gomez gave him, he was just plain afraid. He?d dealt drugs in Hollywood for a year when something strange happened and all the guys he knew were arrested, so he hung low for awhile. Just before his connection disappeared, he was told about Gomez and given a number. He was used to dealing with flashy, high-rollers near the strip. They all packed weapons and acted tough, so he stayed to himself. No one ever seemed to want him around much. They gave him his stash and showed him the door. When he met Gomez and gave him his connection’s card, he thought for sure that Gomez was a lightweight. He would show Gomez how the boys did it up town, as if he really knew.
Gomez watched Steve get to his feet. He called downtown when Steve first came around but only got the answer, ?He’s alright.” Then the connection was gone, arrested in a sting that took down 284 crank dealers, many of whom owned businesses. Some were even members of the chamber of commerce, and on the board of a local charity. The key link between all of them was bikes. They all rode and some were members of a Hollywood chapter of a club. Steve didn’t know any of them. He just bought drugs from his upscale connection and sold them out of the bar.
Gomez was gracious the first couple times Steve came around, but now he had to test the goods. The 60-something Gomez had built a small seaside business and was satisfied with the profits. He enjoyed the lack of heat he felt when the uptown crew was taken down, but in short order Steve inspired him. If he could get a foothold on the other side of the bridge in San Pedro, perhaps he wouldn’t have to live in the back of a junkyard. He doubted Steve, yet sensed that the tall skinny fuck was harmless. He helped Steve to his feet. “I’ve been in business for awhile. It’s small and I don’t want to fuck with it or lose my family,” Gomez said as he pulled on his long gray beard. ?I can’t afford to go to the joint.”
“Yeah, yeah,? Steve said. ?I can dig it. I don’t want to.”
“Pay attention, Steve,” Gomez interrupted him. “One wrong move and we’re both dead or in the joint.” He slipped five small baggies in Steve’s dirty hand. “Don’t forget what I told you. Don’t come around here in that car. Oh, that supply is on the house. Don’t be a fool.”
Steve was still frightened, unaware of what he was getting into. “Yes sir,” Steve said as Gomez showed him to the gate and back to the street. He started to turn back to say something, but the short Mexican man had already disappeared behind stacked parts of a ?62 Lincoln, heading back to his home in the corner.
Nyla was as bouncy as always, jetting around the bar, cleaning up, checking her supplies for happy hour. Her dark hair was pulled into a bun behind her head, exposing her smooth neck. She was beautiful and had a gracious sense about her. Mandy marched out of the head and up to the big horseshoe bar. “Tina seems stuck in the head.”
Nyla blushed slightly. “Hmm. What’s up?”
?Something up her nose, I suspect,” Mandy said, rounding the end of the bar to get behind it and close to Nyla. She sauntered up behind her and cupped her ass.
Nyla spun to look into her green eyes. “We better watch it.”
“I want you,” Mandy whispere, leaning over to retrieve Nyla’s bar towel off the floor. Nyla watched her lean and expose her tits. The sight was tempting.
“Can a guy get a beer?” Jimbo asked as he threw his leather over the back of the bar stool. “That is, without getting shot?”
“Sure,” Nyla said, slapping Mandy on the ass. “Get that cut little ass out to the tables, bitch.” Mandy looked up and the glint between their eyes said volumes.
Just then Tina came out of the head wiping her nose and Jimbo’s attention change directions. He wasn’t a bad looking guy, but he lived in and partied around one of the baddest neighborhoods in Los Angeles. He could putt over the Vincent Thomas bridge into downtown Long Beach to nightclubs and find lots of hot babes, but not in Pedro. He could go west to Hollywood and find beautiful women on every corner, but nooo, he wanted one he couldn’t have.
“Hi Tina,” Jimbo said.
Tina seemed out of sorts, self absorbed, unable to concentrate. She looked at Nyla and bumped into one of the tables just as four dock workers burst in the big double doors. “Have a seat gentlemen, I’ll be right with you.”
She walked to the bar and picked up her tab and her cocktail tray. Her eyes roamed across the bar and up to Nyla’s. She was like an electric circuit on overload. The sexual sensations were tingling in her as if someone was beginning to open a door to her favorite fantasy, but then blocked it. She was steaming.
“Tina,” Jimbo said, trying to carve a path into her attention. “Can I talk to you?”
“Guys are waiting at tables,” Nyla said, also trying to focus Tina’s attention in another direction. Mandy sensed something Immediately. “Either she’s wired to the gills or she’s got the hots for you. I’ll get the table,” Mandy said and turned to leave the bar. She had a knack for dropping verbal bombs. Tina blushed, Jimbo stared and Nyla went to check the kegs.
