Thread: City Girl's Country Drug. ( Andariel and KingWizard )

Strobe lights danced against concrete walls, music pulsed through the compound and bodies rubbed aggressively against each other. Sweat glistened against the scantily clad teenagers as the heated night settled, the mixture of the close proximity and their movements adding to the heat as time passed. In one corner by the sewer entrance sat a large truck. It was a dark black escalade with shiny silver rimmed tires. The hatched back was opened and looming over a dark figure. Blake Frans was born in New York City. His mother had raised him alone and always did the best she could for him, yet working at a hotel as a maid didnt quite make ends meet. After two years of barely living paycheck to paycheck and eating ramen noodles as a main dish most meals, Amelia Frans changed her career path. Stripping paid so much better than being a maid, and letting men pay for pleasure from her did even better than that. It was easy to say that Blake Frans grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. His lean body sat, propped against the tail gate of the Escalade, his fingers gripping a credit card, swiping it against a pile of white powder, making thin lines on a flat glass square. Blakes eyes raised, hearing a soft giggle float against the air just over the load music emitting from his truck. Before him was a girl, her body was thin and her ebony hair was soft and flowing lightly against her shoulders. The girls hips shook gently and her hands extended above her, almost as if she were dancing with another. The headlights of the truck shone against her porcelain ink covered skin as well as her face. If you were close to her, you would be able to see how sunken in her face looked. Thick, puffed, dark pillows sat beneath her eyes, her skin was so faded from its old golden glow, and her bright blue eyes had turned a dull grey. Even in such a worn state, she was still beautiful. Blake stood from the truck, the glass dish in his hand, his black Italian shoes tapping softly against the gravel ground, a devilish grin laced against his face. To say the man was handsome would have been an understatement. He was a classic good looking New York man. His charm shone through anything else though. The man was capable of getting anything he wanted. He was charming, but so dangerous. Hemmingway He mumbled as he moved in behind the girl, his chest pressed against her thin boney back. Blakes free hand wrapped around the girls hip, feeling her bones as he set it softly against her lower stomach. Her body was pulled closer to his own, the 22 year old girl parted her raised hands, wrapping them around his neck, tilting her chin up to him. The man watched Hemmingways eyes roll back with her every blink, his lips turning into a smirk as his hand raised to her face, the one against her stomach moving to the back of her head, pushing her tilted chin back down. The plate was pressed to her face, just under her nose. Almost out of instinct, Hemmingways hands coming up, one raising to her face, her pointer finger pressing against one of her nostrils before snorting ungracefully. The drug clung to her, flowing down into her lungs, making way into her system. This had obviously not been her first hit of the night and she hadnt planned on it being her last. They were the only ones there. Blake knew it perfectly well, yet Hemmingway was convinced the compound was filled with people just like her. Young, excited, and drugged up. The ecstasy in her body though, fooled her mind. Blake Frans was by no means, a good man. In fact, he was a horrible man. As Hemmingways body went slack against him, her eyes rolling back for the last time that night, he simply let her fall. The girls body fell, in what she would soon find, was a very painful way. Blake left her. He left her alone, passed out in a gravel trench just outside a sewer pipe. After two weeks in a hospital, and another week in the wonderful care of her mother and father, Hemmingway McClair stood in the middle of Kentucky, hundreds of miles away from home. This was her new home, at least until she was able to get better. Her eyes glanced up, their color still dull as she took in the home before her. It was beautiful. A veranda encircled the whole bottom floor, bright colorful flowers bloomed softly against the bright green plush grass, and the air. Oh the air. It was so fresh, it was so. Breathable. The girls thin body was draped in a pair of black sweat pants and a thin black jersey knit tank top. Her eyes were covered in a pair of bright red Ray Ban Wayfarers, the only pop of color she exhibited. Her attire was strange for the heat they were in, but her body shivered softly, even as she stood in the bright mid afternoon sun. A hand sat gently against each of Hemmingways shoulders, a woman behind her smiling softly as she glanced up at the house as well. Welcome to your new home Hemmy. Aunt Margret grinned, her excitement barely containable. Hemmy shivered softly at the sound of her favorite nick-name. Her Aunt had been the only one that had ever called her that, and was also the founder of the name. Thanks Mar. for letting me stay. She mumbled, her eyes glancing down, only to be jerked back up at the sight of a figure waltzing through the front door of Margrets exceptionally large ranch house. Of course darling. Anything you need, you just let us know. Margret spoke softly, also glancing up to the door as her ranch hand exited. He had been such a helpful young man and Margret knew that the two of them would get along well Really though Margrets only hopes were for Hemmy to get better. Softly Hemmys teeth found home in her bottom lip, her eyes still focused on the young man as he moved down the stairs, a toothy smile on his face. Instantly she wanted to hide, she wanted to curl up and never let his gorgeous eyes glance upon her again.