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In the room are two identical blonds perched on a leather couch. Scantily clad is a severe understatement, their fake tits straining against the thin straps of their tops. My dick twitches at the thought of a threesome, but I spot something else I want even more.
Beside them on the couch is a needle.
“Happy Birthday.” Bobby winks before closing the door.
I smile and pick up the needle before sitting between the twins. “Hi, ladies.”
“Hi, TJ,” they say in unison. One of them ties an elastic band around my arm and takes the needle from me. Let’s call her Jessica.
Jessica’s sister kneels on the floor and positions herself between my legs, tugging on my shorts. She’ll be Delilah for tonight. I lift my hips and she slides my boxers down around my ankles.
Just as the needle pierces my vein, Delilah takes me into her mouth. My head falls back against the couch as the waves of ecstasy roll over me.
Money in my pocket. Food in my stomach. Heroin in my veins. And a tongue around my cock.
I’d say this is the best birthday I’ve ever had.
A knock at the door stirs me awake. Jessica and Delilah are asleep on either side of me. They’re naked, clothes strewn about the room, and my pants are still around my ankles. Blurred visions of them on me, me on them, and them on each other whirl through my mind.
The knock turns to pounding. I slip out from under the twins and make myself decent. “I’m coming! Hold your fucking horses.” Shoving the remnants of drugs into my pocket, I unlock the door and rip it open.
A man with dark, chocolate skin towers over me. His T-shirt and sweatpants are pulling at the seams trying to contain his muscular physique. The dude is built like Dwayne Johnson. His salt-and-pepper beard is the only hint at his age.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask.
“The question is who the fuck are you?”
“You’re the one pounding on the door like you own the place.”
“I do own this place. And you’re in my office.”
I blink. “Your office?”
He shoulders past me and takes in the room’s disheveled appearance. He points to the elastic band and spoon on the couch. “Is that heroin?”
“Are you a cop?”
“Do I look like a fucking cop to you?”
“Not the doughnut-eating kind.”
The man snorts. “Get this shit cleaned up. I’ve got work to do.” He walks over to his desk in the corner of the room and sits in the rolling chair.
I nudge the twins with my foot. “Time to go, ladies.”
The man watches me, shaking his head.
“You got something to say, old man?”
“Old man?” He barks out a laugh. “You think you’re a hot shot ‘cause you won a few fights in some reject boxing matches? You don’t know shit about fighting.”
My fists clench at my sides. “You don’t know me.”
He rises from his chair and stalks around his desk. “You’re a junkie who fights for money ‘cause he’s got nowhere else to go. You’re at rock bottom and you think you’re going somewhere with this fighting bullshit, but you’re not. You’re a nothing and you’ll always be a nothing.”
Okay. Maybe he does know me. “Fuck you. It’s easy to judge others when you’re sitting pretty in your office. You’ve probably never had to struggle a day in your life.”
The man walks me backward until I’m against the wall. “You think you’re the only one who’s had a shitty life? The only one whose mama didn’t love him or his daddy left? Get your head out of your ass, kid.”
