The blonde I was staring at crouched a couple of feet from me, looking back at me and biting her full lips, silent. Her piercing blue eyes examined every part of my body with curiosity, pausing for a moment here and there as if seeing a human being for the first time in her life.

She slowly reached her hand to undo two of her shirt buttons and tucked her index and middle fingers into the left cup of her bra, which was well above average size. Then she took a shabby cigarette out, straightened it out, lit it, and took a puff. At last, she blew the smoke right into my face.

I remained still, just looking at her.

“You wanna try it?” she asked me after a while. She had a notable Midwestern accent, and her voice was melodic and pleasant. Since she didn’t receive any answer from me, she added, “I’ve got two more tucked into the other cup.”

I stayed passive without answering. Instead, I pictured the cigarettes there—tightly packed with her right boob—and I shuddered at the thought of me smoking weed. Nevertheless, soon, I decided to say something after all because I was afraid the chicks would keep insisting and eventually make me join her little party.

“Thanks,” I mumbled inarticulately because I still felt sick. “I’m too hot. I don’t feel like smoking right now!”

In fact, it was the very truth. I was really, really hot because the water from the radiator burned my back. It was a fancy idea of some previous tenant who had illegally tapped the central hot water pipe, connected it here, and then directed the flow back to where it came from. As a result, I had free heating during the winter and a hell of a furnace instead of a kitchen during the summer. Unfortunately, he hadn’t done the job well, and the thing leaked a bit, but the most frustrating part was that I could neither fix nor regulate it because I would block the water flow to the entire building. My only option was to keep my apartment doors and windows open and avoid this room until late October.

The woman kept smoking thoughtfully. Her eyes remained fixed on my wet shirt for a while as if she wanted to figure out my entire life by just looking at it. On my part, I stared empty-headed at her gorgeous legs, which she held slightly apart, allowing me to examine her groins. Her skirt was too short to keep anything hidden, and I could see the bulge of a sanitary pad beneath her white panties. It sulked at me from only two feet away.

The chick slowly finished her cigarette and rose to grab a mug from the overflowing sink. Naturally, it was filled with the brown liquid, and after she put it to her nose, cautiously sniffed it, and tasted it, she approved of it and crouched in front of me again with the mug in her hand.

“You’re right,” she admitted, nodding slightly. “It’s pretty hot in here and quite humid. I haven’t seen anyone else prepare drinks as you do. It reminds me of the hurricane season a couple of years ago when the Community Coffee warehouse in Louisiana was flooded. Is this how you like this stuff—matured?”

I didn’t answer. I just turned my eyes to the empty pack on the kitchen counter, wondering what I had in mind there. Obviously, I wanted to fix myself a hot drink, but why the extravagant way of preparing it? And why the weird need to restrain myself before doing it?

“So? You supply the Salvation Army or what?” The woman kept bombarding me with questions, which answers I didn’t know.

“Could you please tell me what you are doing here?” I just mumbled instead of explaining myself to her.

She looked at me, puzzled.

“What do you mean? You aren’t happy I saved your stupid ass?”

“I’m happy. I really am! But how did you get into my apartment?”

“Well, I used the door, of course! It was unlocked,” she said with a wry smile.

“Unlocked?” I barked in a hollow voice. “If it was unlocked, why did you keep kicking it for almost half an hour?”

The blonde puckered her lips, suddenly irritated.

“At that particular moment, I still had no idea it was unlocked,” she explained curtly. “And by the way, if I hadn’t come, you’d still be sitting here alone with your kinky little handcuff fetish. You should be thankful, actually!”

I frowned. My weird visitor slowly put the mug on the floor and tucked her fingers into the right cup of her bra, taking the other two cigarettes out. They looked shabby and wrinkled, too, but she obviously didn’t care. She lit one of them and leaned over to stare at me. I looked back at her and waited patiently. She hadn’t buttoned up her shirt yet, and I saw parts of her pink nipples showing over the edge of her bra.

After a couple of seconds, the woman suddenly took the joint out of her mouth, and before I knew it, she put it in mine. It took me by surprise, and I had to inhale the smoke before having any chance to stop her. Eventually, I raised my free hand to beat the cigarette out of my lips, but weirdly enough, I only punched my nose and groaned painfully.

“Oh, come on! Don’t be such a fucking pussy!” The stranger giggled and tried to prevent me from spitting out the joint.

I glanced at her, still helpless and sick, and coughed loudly. Then I did it again and again, and at some point, I started coughing persistently until I spontaneously threw up right into her bosom. It happened somehow in slow motion. First, I sensed that the world twirled around me; then I heard a ringing noise in my ears; then my head exploded; and at last, a Niagara Falls of all sorts of crap poured out of my mouth. My spasms were terrible. I felt like a fucking Jesus who paid for all the sins of every living creature in this sinful world!

After I finished the first session of puking, I threw up a couple of times more, but not as intensely now. The woman’s snowy white shirt and breasts quickly turned brown like Jenna Jameson’s butt in the corner of my kitchen. It was a disgusting thing to look at, but the blonde couldn’t care less. She literally melted with motherly love when she watched me vomit over her boobs, and she even held my head until it was over..

“Oh, boy! You seem to have never tried a pure, one hundred percent homegrown weed from the Great Prairie,” I heard her say. “It’s so sad!”

Instead of replying, I spit twice and belched once since my stomach was empty now, and there was no material in it. My drug philanthropist waited a few more seconds, and when she realized I wouldn’t produce more stuff, she let go of my head. Then she removed her violated shirt and bra, flinging them into the garbage bag under the sink.

“You know what?” she informed me curtly. “I’m gonna jump into the bathroom to take a quick shower. I honestly didn’t expect such an extreme reaction from you.”

After saying this, the woman took off her skirt and panties and threw them with the rest of her clothes. The sanitary pad fell on the floor, but she didn’t take it.

“It’s such a pity for the cigarettes!” I heard her say just a moment before her nicely shaped ass disappeared behind the kitchen doorway on its way to the bathroom.

Then, everything else swam before my eyes and disappeared, too.

When I woke again, what seemed to be only a few moments later, I found myself in the middle of a horrible catatonic spasm. It came as a shock to me. I was all wet, and my muscles hurt. I didn’t regain my senses right away, but at first, I saw a giant gorilla jumping on my stomach and a few others pulling at my arms and legs in different directions. One of the creatures suddenly beat on my chest with its heavy fist, which almost made me spit my lungs out, and while I desperately tried to swallow them back, the rest of the apes started clubbing my head with baseball bats while crying agitated. It all went on for a couple of excruciating minutes and ended with me losing consciousness again. When I opened my eyes a second time, the blonde stood in front of me, still naked and wet. She had shaved her legs and the area of her crotch, presumably using my safety razor in the bathroom.

“Look at you, you naughty boy!” She exclaimed happily and smiled at me when she saw the result of my deeds on the floor. “You did it again, didn’t you? I’m really sorry I wasn’t here to hold your head.”

Then she blew me an air kiss, turned around, and walked to the living room—probably to look for a towel or something. She opened the wardrobe and rummaged through my stuff, with her butt sticking out and bobbing up and down. Watching the erotic show in the mirror outside in the corridor, I enjoyed it for a while. The woman kept ransacking there, and something caught her attention at some point. It was a pair of checked pants—a purchase I had made in a moment of madness and never wore—and a funny yellow shirt, which I wore even less. She put them on next to her skin. After that, my weird visitor looked approvingly at herself in the mirror and returned to the kitchen with my huge and grumpy Colt .45 in her tiny hands.

I glanced at the weapon, feeling sick for the zillionth time that day.

“Not a bad piece!” the stranger remarked, stepping closer.

“It’s not bad when in my hands.” I answered, sweating.

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Then it’s not bad, indeed. And now, would you be so kind as to point it in another direction?”

“No worries.” The chick winked at me and pointed it to the ceiling. Then she bent over to take the sanitary pad from the floor, tipping the Colt to my face again. She used the diaper to clean my mouth—it smelled of raspberries—and when she finished, she threw it back down, carelessly pressing the gun barrel against the cuffs’ chain. Seeing what she wanted to do, I jumped up, bellowing like a wounded bull. Naturally, it cost my poor head another close encounter with the radiator ribs.

“What’s the matter with you?” The blonde asked me, irritated when I sat on my butt and groaned. “You’re willing to stay here and measure the capacity of this pipe all day long?”

“I won’t let you cripple me with my own howitzer!” I squealed feebly.

“What’s a howitzer?” she asked me, looking into the barrel curiously.

“Never mind. My point is that I’m perfectly fine here,” I hiccupped, not very convincingly, while spitting a small piece of undigested food on the floor.

The woman’s eyes followed it, and then she suddenly grinned, fixing her gaze between my legs. Reluctantly, I had to look there, too, because I wanted to see what she was so excited about and because I doubted it was my dick. In fact, she wasn’t staring at me at all but right in the middle of the disgusting pool of puke, which had the potential to turn even a starving pig away. The slop wasn’t enough to scare my new female friend, however. She fearlessly reached out her hand to grab something from there and held it in the air, still dripping.

“Look at this cute little buddy here!” she smiled happily. “It seems like you were just granted your pardon from prison.”

And then she quickly put the thing into the lock of one of the rings. It was a tiny key with which she released the cuffs from the pipe, but before I could think of celebrating my freedom, she snapped the loose end around her wrist. After that, she pulled me sharply and made me stand up, dragging me across the kitchen, forgetting to free my wrist from the cuffs!

When I realized what had just happened, I felt sick again. Either I had buried the key in my puke while throwing up so many times, or I had swallowed it first and then puked it back out. Whatever it was, I had been only an arm’s length from my freedom the entire time, but now I was back to square one. My kidnapper didn’t let me have my regrets about it for too long, though. She kept dragging me across the corridor, and instead of dropping by the bathroom and letting me take a piss, which I desperately needed, she just pulled me out of the apartment.

“Come on! You need some fresh air,” she patted me on the back as we walked. Since I had no strength left to resist, I just obeyed her. After a few minutes of nightmarish spiraling down the staircase, during which time I completely lost any idea about left and right, our journey was finally over. Unfortunately, when we rolled out of the building, I promptly realized the worst part of my day was still ahead. Outside, it was so hot that when the fierce sun beat on my crown like a hammer hitting upon an anvil, I thought I would instantly die.

I looked around myself, dizzy and disoriented. I felt exhausted as if I had dug trenches all day long. The air was thick and hot as potato soup, and it tasted like acid rain in Mexico City during rush hour. Not far from us, I noticed a couple of oldsters wriggling on the pavement where they had collapsed and a guy who kicked them in an attempt to squeeze his mobile cart past them. The cart itself was full of melted ice cream. At the same time, a black van cut in front of an old ambulance car, which turned sharply to the left and ran into the flower shop across the street, from where tons of roses flew out, blanketing the street with petals and leaves. The van itself screeched to a halt, too, but instead of heading to the ambulance, the men who poured outside ran straight to the local office of Bank of America with guns in their hands. It was all happening in a world where the sky seemed orange, the sun was blue, and colorful jet planes maneuvered between the black clouds, writing peculiar figures in vapor trails.

Staggering heavily, I shook my head to get myself together. I had been cuffed to the radiator for god knows how long, terribly overheated, and I was probably hallucinating now. However, my kidnapper, who obviously didn’t see anything strange around us, gave me no time to recover. She pulled at my wrist so sharply that my wobbly knees folded like boiled spaghetti and nearly sent my poor ass down on the pavement. To keep my balance, I did a weird little dance, and after the world around me stood steady again, we started walking. Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly walking—I just trailed behind the woman, reeling to the left and right and banging into trees, street lamps, and traffic signs. I felt so sick that I didn’t even ask her where we were going.

At some point, I noticed my Colt, which the stranger carried stuck on her back, slipping into her pants and exploring the cleavage of her pantyless butt. It made me wonder what it was like to carry your piece between your legs, but then I thought it shouldn’t be much different from carrying your dick there. Anyway, I really hoped the gun would keep rolling into the trousers and then escape through the bottom end so I could grab it, but unfortunately, it didn’t happen. The weapon lingered in the crotch area, which wasn’t surprising since the chick had no underwear, and the delay gave her enough time to reach her hand into the zipper and pull the Colt out. Annoyed, she dropped it into one of her pockets, and we resumed our walk.

I puffed wearily, dragging my feet behind her and bumping into things. I knew it all would end eventually, and at some point, it did. After wandering aimlessly through the empty streets for some time, my kidnapper suddenly stopped at a corner. It caught me off-guard, and following my momentum, I banged my nose into the back of her head, which made her turn around and look at me, irked.

“You know what?” she said. “This was the most ridiculous and exhausting walk I’ve ever had in my entire life! You’re a really, really weird dude, you know.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be weird,” I mumbled inarticulately. As a matter of fact, I lied. I wasn’t sorry because, at that moment, I couldn’t feel anything other than what a team of sled dogs would have felt after being abandoned for a month a mile from the North Pole. I was completely dead inside.

The woman just shrugged indifferently and reached into her left pants pocket to retrieve the key to the handcuffs. Then she turned her blue eyes back to me.

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