Zoe awoke battered and bruised. Her body hurt all over, but especially her asshole. It felt like somebody tried to put their fist in there. And for all she knew, they did. Of course, the night had done nothing to make her feel better. She found the remains of the whiskey in the kitchen, but it was barely enough for the morning, much less the day.
With shaking hands, she poured her first shot of the day. She almost had a second. Needed it. But she was in full-on survival mode and decided to stretch it out as much as she could. The reality of her situation really set in when she went to go fix herself a line, only to find her remaining coke all gone. She’d have cried again, but she was too numb. She called her dealer in a panic.
“Hey. It’s Zoe. Could I please, please, please just get a little fronted?”
“You know the rules, Zoe.”
“I know, I know. But I only have fifty right now.”
He relented. After all, she was an addict, and one of his best customers. He knew she’d be back. Again and again. She generally brought him two hundred and fifty to four hundred dollars a week. Zoe was pretty much paying his mortgage on a two-story house, while struggling to pay her own rent. Unwise, he thought, but not his problem.
Smiling, she showered, brushed her teeth, and got dressed. Things were suddenly looking up a bit. At least in the near term, and as long as she put everything other than scoring some coke out of her mind. On her way out the door, and almost as an afterthought, she glanced in her purse for the two twenties and a ten she’d put in there.
They were gone. Not only that, but the few dollar bills she’d had weren’t there either.
Panicking, she dumped it out on the coffee table. It was full of tissues for her perpetually running nose, old, useless receipts, and miscellany. Vaguely, she thought that she was turning into a bag lady. Zoe went through everything thoroughly, making sure she hadn’t been mistaken.
She had been robbed. But she felt raped. And in essence she had been. Again. In tears she texted her dude. “Nevermind.”
She wasn’t a coke whore, in her mind, because she had never sucked his cock, or bent over his couch and took it up her ass. Zoe paid her own way in life. But last night proved otherwise, didn’t it?
Now all she thought about was showing up at his house, undressing at the door, and crawling over to him, choking on his dick until tears streamed down her face, and fucking her own throat until he came in it. She would swallow all of it, of course. Gladly. The way things were going it was bound to happen. Soon. And she would slide even further down the spiral.
Her hand hovered over his number on speed dial. But Zoe had a tiny bit of dignity left. Instead, she looked at her phone history, and dialed whoever had buttfucked her last night. Rob? Javier? She honestly couldn’t remember. They were all becoming a Philip K. Dick blur-suit of names and faces. Just hands that slapped her, choked her, shoved her head down onto their cocks, and rammed it up her ass as hard as they could. Zoe was starting to believe that’s all she deserved, although she didn’t know why.
She clicked on the last call she had answered, but no one picked up. That had almost always been the case after someone had fucked her. A lot of the time they didn’t know her name, or bother to learn it. But they would often call again weeks later, and every time, she repeated the pattern.
At least Trent knew her name. And stayed with her. Part of the time, anyway. And why wouldn’t he? She paid for pretty much everything. Bought him clothes. Gave him money and coke. Took him out to eat regularly. Zoe did any and everything he asked, sexually. It was the only way she knew how to keep a man. Actual love and affection from a man was a foreign concept to her. There was only sex, and her overflowing generosity.
Her heart was broken. Zoe broke down and texted her mother.
“Hey, mommy! I love you! I messed up and forgot to pay my electric bill! Can I please have $300 until Friday?”
One lie after another. At this point, it was far from the worst thing she was doing.
“Hey, my little girl. Good to hear from you. You don’t have to wait until you need something to talk to me, you know… Of course.”
She sent $600. Zoe was back in business. It never even occurred to her to buy anything other than more coke and whiskey.