The Green Room

They took the service elevator stairs, Lois following Maria's ass as it bounced before her, sometimes catching a glimpse of the fat vulva peeking out of the crotchless panties. They passed through a storage area and emerged from an employees-only door into a corridor of closed doors, like a hotel hallway. Small lights were mounted above the door; most were let red, which suffused the hallway with crimson glow, but the light above the portal at the end was green.

Maria took Lois' hand, and guided her to the door with the green light.

"This is the Green Room," the barmaid said. "Usually it's off-limits to customers, but some special clients can rent it for private assignments."

"Special clients?" Lois asked.

"Folks that are...plant-affiliated" The barmaid tapped at the lock on the door, which turned green. Bolts in the door opened with a solid thunk. "Good rates, if you're into that kind of thing. The mistress says it helps the plants pollinate..."

Lois stepped through the door...into the Green House.

The smell hit her first—heady, rank, and familiar. Back to her college days. A shy roommate who was a closet stoner, sharing her stash. It was the first time Lois had ever used a bong. Her mousy-looking friend, the little nerd with the baggy clothes, taught her all the names for things, and how to draw it in, how to hold it, to cough and let it out...and when she was stoned, really stoned, eyes dilated so the darkness of the room seemed bright, her girlfriend had kissed her, very gently, on the corner of her mouth...and brought Lois' hands up under her own shirt, to grasp the heavy breasts...Lois hadn't known what a pair the mousy girl concealed in her sweater, and had set to exploring on her own...was fascinated by the way she moaned, how the soft, warm sacks filled her hands and could be kneaded between her fingers...

Weed. Lois thought, as her feet sank down into rich, black soil. The heat of grow lamps burned over head in a ceiling painted like the arching bows of trees. Most of the room—which was really a kind of long tunnel—was taken up by row upon row of hemp plants, six feet tall, like young trees. The walls were painted to look like a forest, which gave an impression of greater depth to the room. Lois found herself having trouble getting her bearings.

There was someone there, moving behind the rows of plants. Lois could sense them, the way the plants shifted in the breezeless space.

"Uh oh," Maria said. "Looks like one of the special clients is already here..."