More Please

Lois smiled, sniffing gently. She couldn't feel most of her face, but tried to make sure her speech wasn't slurred. Slowly and deliberately, that was the key. The corner of the owner's mouth twisted up as the dickgirl helped Lois stand and guided her toward a doorway next to the back of the bar.

She's the owner, she has to know something. Lois thought quickly. In fact, she didn't think she'd ever thought this quickly before. Ideas seemed to race through her brain, some almost too fast to catch. This is my chance to get more information about the missing girls, about what's really going on here. I mean I know now there's **** and dickgirls and...

The reporter caught herself methodically licking her gums and stopped as the owner unlocked the door and ushered her through into some kind of private office.

The walls were covered in panels of dark wood. There was a long desk, old and heavy, with a very slim, modern black tablet on top of it. A couch upholstered in black leather was stationed against a wall beside a reproduction of some classical painting, a satyr turning away in disgust from a hermaphrodite. Opposite the couch on the other wall was a small bar, all cut crystal decanters and small glasses.

Lois blinked, her attention caught by the swaying of the owner's ass as she sashayed across the room to the desk. She was tall and thin, not very curvy, but the black dress really caught and hugged her slim hips and well-toned rear. Almost absently, she realized didn't know her host's name.

Frustratingly, she didn't know she'd spoken aloud until her host answered it.

"I am Angelica Blaze, my dear. The Black Door is mine. And you are?"

Best to lie, the reporter decided.

"Lois," Lois said, suddenly distracted as the slim hands brought forth from a desk drawer a round mirror, on which was a small mound of white powder and a very sharp-looking thin-bladed knife, like a letter opener or a stiletto.

"Lois," Angelica smiled. "I think we're going to be very good friends, Lois. Friends share. Won't you join me?"

The reporter swallowed.

I didn't come here for more cocaine, she told herself, as the dickgirl started to cut a pair of lines using the blade. Gotta stall.

"I uh...I just had a hit," Lois smiled. "Not that I couldn't use some more nose candy, but do you mind if I mix us a couple of drinks? Just to...give it some space?"

Angelica nodded to the bar. Lois walked over, splashed together whiskey, gin, club soda, and what she hoped was grapefruit juice. Her hands were shaking, and she realized, for the first time, that she had really, really wanted to take Blaze's first offer. Even though she didn't even like cocaine.

She returned with two tumblers, trying not to spill them. Blaze had cut the small pile of white powder into two lines, a single green tube next to them. The dickgirl took the drink with both hands, smiling in that half-knowing way she had.

They clinked glasses.

"To new friends," Lois toasted.

"To new lovers," Angelica answered, sipping her drink.

"Do you treat...all your new friends like this?" The reporter asked, feeling the sweet-and-sour hit the back of her throat. She had to **** herself not to look at the cocaine.

It wasn't like hunger, which she felt in her belly. It was just the sudden intenseness of the high, which she could already feel dulling slightly, though that could be the ****. The lights seemed a little dimmer. She was still aware—incredibly aware—of the little details of the room. The weave of the carpet. The pair of panties half-hidden behind one leg of the couch. The way Blaze sipped her drink but the level never seemed to go down.

"Sometimes I meet women who...catch my attention. Who have potential," Angelica told her, setting the drink down. "Beautiful women. They can do much, if properly...compensated. Properly represented."

Lois set down her drink. She had finished half of it, though she hadn't really meant to. The initial rush was leaving her, but Lois felt bursting with energy. Playful as a kitten. The reporter wondered if this was all some kind of come-on, Blaze trying to get into her pants.

If so, she admitted, still remembering the feel of that cock in her mouth. It's working. No better way to treat your date than to get them drunk and ripped to their tits on Peruvian flake...

"You make it sound like a job interview." Lois joked.

"It is."

The voice came from behind her, and the reporter realized that she hadn't seen Angelica move. Now strong hands grasped her upper arms, and something hard and warm pressed against the crack of her ass through her pants. Very carefully, the dickgirl bent Lois over the desk, her face hovering inches away from those two white lines.

"Go on," Blaze purred, as she peeled the unresisting reporter's pants down. "Help yourself. This is only a taste of things to come..."