"Yes, I see what you mean." I lay back on the bed as she stroked my leg and untied my right shoe. It was happening. I wanted her. I had wanted her since seeing her that first night in the basement. Learning about her, what she was, made me want her even more. I closed my eyes tight and moved my leg against her hand. Oh, let this be happening.

She withdrew her hand from my pant leg the same time my shoe hit the floor. I heard her walk away and I sat up on my elbows to see her pull the brown leather syringe case from the top drawer of the dresser.

I had always been wary of heroin. I remembered how prevalent it was in Istanbul and how many people I'd seen it destroy. I experimented with marijuana, coke and a little crank. I don't think you can live in this town without doing them, and even those had gotten a little hairy at one time. Two nights ago was the first time I'd ever had a needle in my veins. "I'm not in any pain," I said preempting her.

She turned and looked at me with the case in her hands and burst out laughing. I sat up farther and tried to figure out what I'd said that was so funny. My erection showed no signs of going away. She unzipped the case and quickly assembled it.

"It's for me," she said, still laughing. She grabbed the syringe and vial and climbed on all fours onto the bed next to me. "But you could be in pain." She whispered the words as she ran her tongue along the outside edge of my ear. "What would happen if I were to accidentally bump you in a moment of passion?" she said, nudging my left leg with hers.

I recoiled, even though I felt no pain.

"See what I mean. I won't use as much as last time," she whispered seductively. "Make a fist." She pulled away and switched the vial to her left hand which she placed squarely on the now visible outline of my cock under the jeans. She kept her hand on me, squeezing as she uncorked the vial with her thumb and forefinger. She submerged the needle and drew half an inch of brown liquid up into the brass syringe. I felt my erection getting stronger and my objections getting weaker as I balled my hand into a fist and held it out in front of her.

She recorked the vial, placed it on the bed and gripped my wrist the same way she had done with my ankle the first time. I couldn't watch as I felt the needle enter. The same warm orange cream colored wave rolled over me when she released her grip.