Cocaine Trash A Novel

'That'll be £10,' she says to me, opening up the till from below the counter.

I hand her a £10 note and, while she puts the money away in the till, gaze admiringly at her purple painted finger nails.

'And £5 to store your coat,' she adds.

Knowing the drill, I take off my leather jacket and hand it to her alongside a creased £5 note.

It's as she heads off over to a room around the back to store my coat that I take the time to observe my image in the large mirror on the opposite wall. I admire the black jumper that I decided to wear; it looks all nice and flat against my chest, real suave and stylish. I also like how my all black attire makes me look quite rock 'n' roll. I certainly feel pretty rock 'n' roll as I stand here in a strip club, anticipating some hot bitch pressing her cunt right in my face.

The woman soon comes back and hands me a piece of paper with my coat number written on it. I take it from her, put it in my right trouser pocket, and breathe out in a nice, relaxed fashion.

'Enjoy your time,' she says.

Without replying, I look at her, giving her a little smile, and then head off over to the main room around the corner. As I get closer to it, I find myself nearly bumping into a petite blonde clad in just a thong and bra with a set of 3 pearl necklaces drooping all the way down her neck to her big bosomed chest. We both stop, and there's a moment's eye contact between us, eye contact fuelled by unfamiliarity and intrigue.

'Oh,' she says, 'you're early tonight. We've just opened.'

I smile at her, first admiring the tanned flesh of her body and then her greenish, amber eyes that lay finely situated in her oval shaped face.

'Would you like a £60 boutique dance?' she says.

'I don't know what that is, but it sounds great,' I reply, enthusiastically.

'Right, this way then.'

I follow her over to a black door at the far left wall. As she opens it, I feel a bout of adrenalin form explosively in my stomach; it's almost scary to know that we, at the moment perfect strangers to one another, are going to become intimate in a very short while; it's surprisingly more nerve wracking than any time I've spent in the company of an escort. Pretty strange really I must say.

We proceed to walk up a set of stairs, and, as we get halfway up, I suddenly perceive 3 more beautiful women coming out of a door at the top of the staircase. Akin to the blonde stripper, they're all dressed in thongs and bras, minus the pearl necklaces that I will now associate with the blonde stripper. One of the girls is dark complexioned with pink, plump lips; while the other two are blonde and brunette respectively. The immediate sight of them overwhelms me, and I become incredibly excited when the dark complexioned one looks at me rather sultrily and says, 'Hi there, going for a boutique dance?'

I nod, a little uncomfortable at being surrounded by 4 women of equally stunning physical calibre; I can virtually feel the warmth of their flesh covered bodies; it emanates through the air and hits me in a soft, gentle wave.

'Fancy a threesome?' the girl says.

I'm going to respond with a firm yes, but the blonde stripper puts her hand on my back and pushes me in the direction of the door. 'Sorry, he's booked,' she says, giving a mocking smile to the other girl. I've noticed that strippers usually do that: it's a territorial thing I guess; a woman's own possessive quality shining out in a surge of confidence.

I watch the three exotic beauties descend down the metal stairs and then follow the blonde into the room. As I enter, I observe that it's very spacious inside and, like the rest of the club, painted entirely in black. There are also several lights on the ceiling that shine radiantly with an emission of the most potent crimson; it feels, in a quaint way, as if I'm descending into some opium or hash cloud, some real fuckin' euphoria inducing atmosphere. At the very back of the room is a large black bed covered with an array of fluffy red cushions. We walk over to it, and I stop by its right side. I know that the woman's going to ask me to get onto it now. I can predict exactly what she's going to say. Something sexy, but commanding, in that girlish voice of hers.

Placing her hands behind her back, she begins to take off her bra and necklaces. 'Lie back on the bed please,' she says, staring at me, sultrily, as I wait for the unveiling of exposed flesh. This is going to be a real thrill seeing those tits. And my eyes are ready for them like electrically charged magnets in full mode. She puts her bra and necklaces on the bed, and I feel a sickly, but sweet, sensation grow in my stomach as I perceive the bare flesh of her pink-tipped breasts. They look stunning in the dim light, like breasts in a fine oil painting, and there's not even one crease between either of those beauties; not one thing that could detract their glamour, their utter gorgeousness.

Once I've fully registered those tits in my sexually overloaded brain, I lie down on the bed and tilt my head slightly up to watch the beautiful woman take off her thong. It comes smoothly down her two lustrous legs, and my eyes focus themselves on that dark, sexual arena in the lower centre of her body. It's difficult to see her cunt in great detail in such dim light, but I can work out that there is not a single hair down there. It also looks pretty tight, impressively tight, and it all leads me to believe that this girl is no more than 20, 21 at the very most.

Slowly leaning forward towards the edge of the bed, she gets up onto it and starts crawling towards me on her knees, like a lion. My chest pulsates, and I feel my breathing intensify profusely as her body brushes against my legs, smoothly, warmly. I also sense her dazzling perfume which becomes more potent the closer she gets to me. She gets to my waist and then, putting her hands on my chest, starts straddling me with vigour. I can feel her crotch dig hard into mine, and it crushes my balls slightly; but I'm so mesmerised by the woman's spectacular breasts and relatively flawless face that the mild discomfort becomes overpowered by the most extraordinary seventh heaven pleasure, pleasure flawless and flourishing like an army of erotic angels.

As the arresting beauty continues straddling me, I'm tempted to wrap my hands around both her arse cheeks, but I know I can't; I know in these lap dancing establishments that I have to abide by the rules. Fuck, it's almost painful not to be able to touch such yielding flesh. Painful and torturous. She's also being totally professional by staring at me like she's really into what she's doing. She's displaying a look of the most immense pleasure on her visage, and it very nearly tricks me into believing that she's actually in a state of orgasmic delight. Fuck, she's good; I couldn't ask for a better stripper.

Leaning forward, she presses her tits in my face and makes sure that she rubs them all in so that they're all that I'm seeing. The warmth overwhelms me, and as those tits blind my sight in flesh intoxicating style I feel her left nipple simmer dangerously on my lips. I can't describe how much self control it takes me not to part my lips and suck vigorously on that designer milk pump. Fuck, it's absurdly hard. It's at moments like this when everything else in your life- rejection, depression, questions on the meaning of life- mean absolutely nothing at all. It's just here and now for me in this state of pure, unrefined bliss, here and now in this fucking flesh made heaven.

She's still straddling me when she lowers her face down to mine and kisses me, ever so gently, on my lips. Hers feel soft and full of youth, and as I feel her face against mine I notice that there's something surprisingly pure about it, something truly graceful; like sexy horny Lauren's doll like quality, but different, unexplainably different. She lingers her face near mine for a bit, and then, with a lovely feeling of intimacy blossoming in the air, continues straddling me.

Soon she gets up off me and stands up on the bed so that she's staring down at my face. I get a better view of her body since she's nearer to the red light above, and I absolutely love the particular angle I'm getting of her breasts. They truly gleam in the light and complement the rather nice stomach cleavage she has below in great aesthetic elegance. Standing there, beginning to dance a little in her stripper demeanour, she moves her hand onto her cunt and begins massaging her fingers nice and deeply into it. I see that she's closed her eyes and is making slight panting noises with her mouth, real erotic sounds that seep through into my ears like kinky, private whispers. Then I see that a couple of her fingers have slid into that delicious, succulent cunt of hers. She's massaging the region where her clitoris is, and the mere sight makes the top of my penis feel warm and colossally wet. Fuck, I wanna come.

Slowly opening her eyes, she looks down at my face, smiles sultrily, and surprises me to the maximum by putting her fingers up to her mouth and licking them with her alluring wet tongue that looks almost glossy in appearance. She starts sucking them for a bit, nice and sexily, and then, kneeling down, rubs her dampened, cunt smothered hand over my besieged face. I can smell her wet cunt; it's sickly but sweet; and I breathe in the smell like I'm in a florist shop sniffing the finest, most potent roses. What a smell, what a fuckin' smell.

I'm totally in a world of cunt paradise when, quite abruptly, the look of pleasure on the girl's face fades, and she proceeds to get off the bed.

'So, would you like anything else?' she says, tidying up her loose, free hair with her hands.

Feeling pretty speechless, and extremely lustfully charged from the straddling, I raise my head up and look at her, a little dazed. 'Um...what else is there?' I enquire.

'Well, for another £60 we can go into the backroom and take this further,' she says, more than suggestively.

'Fuck,' I think; 'I wonder what I'd get.' Quickly, I take out my wallet and root about for some more money. I'm feeling really hyped up and excited for some more titillating action when, to my great frustration, I see that I've run out of cash. I've only got about £10 left, and I know that's not going to get me very far; I doubt that'll even be enough to wank off in front of the woman. 'Fuck,' I think, infuriatingly, 'fucking fuck.' 'Um, I think I'll have to leave it for tonight,' I say, still searching through my wallet in the hope that I'll miraculously come across a few £20 notes.

'You sure?' she says, picking up her thong and sliding her legs through the two holes.

'Yea,' I say, flatly, 'some other time.'

'Alright, well, I hope to see you again soon.'

Slowly, I get up off the bed and follow the still bare breasted girl over to the door. She opens it for me and smiles in that enigmatic stripper way. I smile back and then, taking my time, descend back down the metal staircase.

'Dam, I wonder what I would have got,' I think as I reach the bottom. 'Maybe a fucking blowjob, who knows?'

With the smell of the girl's uplifting perfume lingering on my clothes, I walk back down to the main floor and head off to collect my coat. 'Must try and get a blowjob from her,' I think; 'must try and get a good blow.'

SOME ROMANIAN DREAM

I'm sitting on a train to Transylvania, and I'm staring incessantly as this chunky, but sexy, ebony lady. She looks a lot older than me, 35 or 36 I estimate, and looks like a very liberal minded woman.

She's already noticed me staring at her and, rather than give me a look of aloofness, actually smiles at me, to the point of almost toying with me. 'You really like looking at me, don't you?' she says.

I'm pleased that she hasn't told me to fuck off. I'm also pleased, sexually, that she's got an American accent. It's incredibly sexy and makes her look even kinkier than she already appears. 'Yea, you're a lovely looking woman,' I reply.

'Haha, I'm pleased you like what you see,' she says, humorously.

At this comment I feel the horniness flourish inside me. My cock begins to pulsate, and I'm wondering what those plump pink lips of hers would feel like on my sexually voracious cock. I tell you, it's an established fact that no white woman can suck cock like a black woman can; black women just seem to possess those natural oral skills; they know what to do, and they know how to get a job done.

'Oh, I really like what I see,' I say, staring at her breast cleavage which half reveals itself in a loose black blouse.

'Haha, charming man,' she says, smiling heartily.

As I gaze at her rather fixatedly, I start to experience utterly depraved thoughts. I'm imagining what it must be like to have her sit on my face and spread both her arse cheeks in an act of deep sexual perversion. It's shameful, really, to think such thoughts; but, like all guilty pleasures, it's fucking exhilarating I must say.

I'm about to try and start up a conversation with the woman when I see that the train is beginning to slow down to a stop. In minor alertness, I look out of the window and observe the station and the somewhat misty outskirts of the city. As usual, it's utterly ambiguous outside; the sky is dull and grey, and the general atmosphere of the city seems difficult to sum up. It looks both a little bit lively and a little bit lifeless for some reason, and I can't really put my finger on it as to why.

I turn back to look at the woman and watch as she stands up to collect her luggage from the compartment above. It's as she bends over that I get a great view of her big, black backside, which looks large and compressed in the black skirt she's wearing. I also get a great shot of the upper half of her tits as they droop splendidly forward in her escaping blouse; they jiggle about slightly, the flesh on them the colour of the finest, most delicious Belgian chocolate, and as I watch them wobble and jiggle about with prurient eyes I begin to fantasise for the worst: I want to come violently all over the woman's face and neck in depraved, cumtastic style. I want to create a jizz masterpiece all over her fucking face.

Holding both her bags in each hand, the woman looks down at me and smirks a little. 'Well, take care charming man,' she says.

'You too,' I reply, giving her one of my mad, almost insane, smiles. I watch her for a moment or two walk off down the surprisingly empty train before gazing back out of the window, watching as the milky clouds hover about in the sky like giant heaps of candyfloss. I'm nearly lost in these clouds when it registers in me that the train has now stopped and that the other people on board are all heading for the doors. Fuck man, am I really in Transylvania? I think, dazed and rather confused. Breathing out, and in no hurry, I stand up and take my brown leather bag from the compartment above. Then, leisurely, I head off down the carriage and over to an exit.

As I walk down onto the platform, I look about, with zealous eyes, at the station. 'So very different from England,' I think to myself, noticing all the people, noticing how, in a rather quaint way, they all seem to be women. 'No fucking ordinary, boring faces; no fucking ordinary women.' They've all got these distinct looks about them. They're either blonde, with sultry, elegant eyes, or dark brunettes with mysterious, vampirish qualities. By god, what a variety.

I skim my eyes over each exquisitely animated figurine and feel myself suddenly in awe of them all. I want to crouch down in front of each of them, wrap my arms around their waists, and have them feed me sweet milk from their burgeoning breasts. Then I want to sink my face into their bare stomachs and feel the warmth of their bodies gently heat my skin. How wonderful that would be.

Oh, what a joy it is to be in Romania!

After a not too long bus journey to Transylvania's city centre, I set out in finding a fairly decent hotel. It's by chance that I come across a three star one, not too far out of the city, and I head off through the doors of the entrance and over to the reception. Immediately, I glimpse the receptionist, a dark, mysterious Romanian bird with glasses, sitting at a desk at the back of the room. I notice, like a pan of piping hot beauty being thrown in my face, how great she looks. She's thin, very thin, but more supermodel thin as opposed to anorexic thin; and her glossy mauve coloured lips are something of a visual treat to the eyes.

Hearing me approach, she glances up at me from the customer book she was looking down at and gives me the usual unfamiliar and observant run down that I'm used to receiving from receptionists.

'Hi, do you have any vacancies?' I say, hoping that she knows at least basic English.

She looks at me again, almost as if she can see right through into my corrupted soul, and says, 'You, English person?'

'Yes, that is right,' I say, being careful and pronouncing my words slowly like Roger Moore (although I do sound a little of a pompous bastard I have to admit). 'I'm sorry, I don't know much Romanian I'm afraid.' I try to laugh it off with a look of self deprecation, but I'm not sure if it sufficiently eases the pain of looking like a complete and utter twatface.

The woman, rather than laugh with me, just half smiles and looks at me a little peculiarly. 'You want room, yes?' she says; there's a particularly delightful and sexy tone prevalent in her voice.

'Yes, if you have any available. I'm looking to stay for 2 nights.'

Casually, she flips through her customer book, which I see is hardly full up, and says, 'Well, you are very lucky. There happens to be one available room on the second floor. You like?'

'Yes, that would be great,' I say. I'm already in love with everything about this woman. I'm particularly fascinated by her lovely, exquisite teeth, which complement her subtle purple lipstick very nicely indeed.

'Ok. 2 nights. That will be 50 leu.'

Taking out some money, I hand her 50 leus of it and try to smile as pleasantly as I can. Fuck, I hope I don't appear too much of a foreign idiot to her. Maybe a bit of a twat, but hopefully just that. I tell you if there's any chance of fucking this woman, I'll make sure that I taste all of the many sweet and overwhelming fruits this woman has to offer.

She gives me the keys to the room, still smiling at me rather oddly, and, after smiling back, I head up the staircase to the left of the reception to get to my room. It's pretty easy to find-first one on the second floor- and, unlocking the brown door, I descend into my chambre where I breathe in the marginally dusty Romanian hotel air. It's as the dust tingles my nostrils ever so slightly that I sense the distinct smell of latex and women's perfume about the place. I've smelt that smell many times before, mainly with prostitutes and strippers in England, and it never ceases to please me; it's a wonderful smell, a scent that I've come to recognise as a heavenly one, a scent wafting behind two solid platinum gates like pink spongy clouds.

In no time at all, I've taken off my coat and have put my bag to the side of the bed. I feel pretty tired but also excited and strangely invigorated by the feeling of being somewhere new. It feels like I'm really broadening my horizons by being in Romania, really seeing some good fucking sights.

Now wonderfully relaxed, I lie down on the bed and put my hands behind the back of my head. I'm staring up at the ivy coloured ceiling, fantasising about enthralling and glamorous Romanian women, when I hear the faint sounds of moaning coming from the other room. At first I think I'm hearing the noises of some incessantly meowing cat, but then it becomes clear in my mind what the moans are: some bird in a whirlwind of orgasmic merrymaking.

The very sounds send me into a frenzy of lust and desire, and I spring myself violently up out of the bed. I can feel my cock fill with blood, and it's as if the moaning from the next room is almost unbearably erotic to listen to. Slowly, I put the side of my head against the wall and let the titillating noise penetrate my ears. Fuck, what a great sound: the sound of a woman with a strong, resonating voice. She's screaming amongst one manically bouncing-up-and-down mattress, and it makes me start to visualise what she must be doing. I imagine her leant forward on all fours with some handsome Romanian stud of a husband behind her, fucking her senseless with extreme, blood pumping vigour. I can picture the peachy flesh on her hips quivering with faint red marks on them from where her guy has been repeatedly spanking her. I can picture the whole smutty image in my lascivious fucking mind.