Henchman

No one enforces the liquor laws. The music is always loud, although I don’t recognise half of it. I’m more of an acoustic kind of guy.

Then there are the prostitutes. Despite every deterrent in the world, there’s never a shortage of work in their trade.

I made my way up the strip, searching. Skids isn’t a drug that’s restricted to the poor. Anyone can get hooked, which puts a vast selection of women on the street. Skids was chemically engineered to be the most addictive substance on earth. They say that once a guy takes a hit the only evidence he ever lived are the skid marks he leaves on his way to the morgue.

In the later stages of addiction people loose all concern for their personal hygiene. Those girls just look grimy - their teeth are half rotten, they stink, and they’re scared up from whatever happens to them when they’re high. They’re pretty easy to avoid. The ones to watch out for are those that have lost the hygiene, but are still trying to cover it up in their sober moments.

I stopped and talked to a young Asian girl. She had a corner under a thick oak tree that had stood long before the lower east side developed its reputation. She sat nestled between two bulbous roots leaning back against the worn bark - propositioning passers by.

After a few words, she coughed. It was the hack. Skids melts away the lining of the stomach when taken orally. Most people inject it or dissolve it under the tongue, but one can also coat a pill of it in chocolate. It perforates the GI tract with ulcers. By the time the hack shows up the damage is so bad blood is seeping into the lungs. That girl had about a week until she defecated her own bowels.

It was three in the morning when I found a redhead sitting in a windowsill. She didn’t look to be actively soliciting anyone, but in that area any girl who isn’t is either high or dead.

"Hey you," I called, shivering as I did. I wanted to just leave her alone. She looked happy.

"Hey yourself."

"Can I buy a few moments of your time? Three hits worth?"

She looked down at me - big blue eyes. Her curly, red hair fell over her shoulders - not an exact match, but good enough. My feet were starting to hurt.

I pulled my coat to the side and flashed her my wad of cash. "I’m Sage," she said. Then she let me in.

When she opened her door, she’d already stripped down to her bra and panties. There wasn’t anything special about her underwear - white cotton and frumpy. Still, she stirred my primal interests. She definitely had long legs.

"What do you want?"

"Turn around."

Sage cocked her head to the side. Then with a sigh she complied. Everything looked okay. She had a pierced nose - just a small hoop, but old people aren’t really into that. Around her neck she wore a small gold locket. I glanced at her legs again. She had nice parallel thighs, but her shins angled outwards slightly. With slender legs like hers, it wasn’t too noticeable, but if she got fat it might look bad.

I closed the door. "Sit," I said. The apartment had only one room with a closet for a bathroom. The centrepiece was a queen-sized bed. I could smell the faint aroma of tobacco smoke, but it was just as likely to have been rising off of my own shirt as from her room.

She bounded backwards onto the bed.