Traffic Girl Katie Ch 07

Author's Note: This is unlike any of the previous 253 chapters in the Traffic Girl series. I hope you enjoy it, and I would love to hear what you think. Our core characters have a heavy burden ahead of them. This chapter is deeply personal when it comes to these characters. I hope you see it that way, too.

* * *

"White male, late 30s. Blood pressure ninety over forty. Respiratory forty-five. Heart rate thirty-seven."

"MVA with impact on the driver's side. This guy got t-boned like a motherfucker."

"Sir? Sir?"

I saw nothing but white light.

* * *

"Oh, fuck, Henry," Katie moaned as she collapsed into the hotel's luxurious Egyptian cotton sheets. "That was so perfect. I've never cum so hard in my whole life before. Like, ever. When my orgasm hit? All I saw was white light. Baby, you are fucking incredible."

"Shhh," Henry said, lying back next to her, letting his hand run along the damp skin of her inner thigh. "Don't tell Riley that."

"Keep choking me like that while you fuck my ass, and I promise my lips are sealed," she said.

She used her delicate fingers to loosen the belt that had been tied around her neck and tossed it aside.

"This is like a dream," Henry said and kissed her, fixing his eyes on her. "I like being able to focus my dark side on you and nowhere else."

"I love your dark side," she said, kissing back. "I love that Riley is on board with this arrangement, too."

"You've helped me not be embarrassed of it," he said, now giving adoring little kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. "It's so much more fun to embrace the darkness rather than just take it out on random strangers."

"It might sound weird," Katie said, propping herself up on her elbow now, "but your dark side kind of pulled me out of the spiral I was in after ..."

She stopped herself. Tears welled up in her eyes. It was all still too raw, too fresh. The pain hit involuntarily.

"Sorry," she said as she brushed the tears away. "It just kind of creeps up on me, even now."

"It's okay, baby," Henry said, touching her cheek. "We can still feel his presence. That's a gift."

Katie shook her head, like she was trying to break free from cobwebs.

"We've got to be at the recording studio in ninety minutes," she said, her hand making its way toward Henry's shrunken cock. "What would you say to doing a couple lines, letting me clean off your cock with my mouth, and then dumping another load in my cunt?"

"Sounds like heaven to me," Henry said, already reaching for the mirror and straw that were sitting on the nightstand.

"Only if you spank me until my ass is red and make me walk funny tomorrow," she said.

"When do I not, babe?" Henry said with a chuckle.

Katie smiled at him, but there was still a faintly detectable sadness on her face. She put the glass straw up her nose and inhaled. The rush of cocaine hit, and she reset the timer on keeping the demons at bay.

* * *

"Jesus. It looks like his left side was run over by a steam roller."

"It basically was. A big ass Grand Wagoneer slamming into a convertible?"

"We've got to move fast. He's lost a lot of blood."

"Then maybe we can put him back together."

* * *

"You are fucking crazy," Johnny said. "We're going to be there in like ten minutes."

"So what?" Jess said. "That's plenty of time!"

"Didn't you get enough already?" he asked.

"I can never get enough of you, stud," Jess said, licking her lips.

She lowered her head, covering Johnny's crotch in corn-silk blonde hair. He groaned as her tongue flicked across the slit of his tip. She smiled inwardly as she tasted the mixture of his cum and her pussy.

"Fuck, okay," Johnny groaned. "Yeah, that feels like fucking magic."

Jess greedily sucked him, loving his hardness and the feeling of his veiny cock as her tongue danced over it. She loved the feeling of his sperm leaking into her thong, the product of their earlier fuck. At his house. In the bed he shared with Shelly. She shouldn't do it, but she couldn't help herself. Not when it came to Johnny.

And there was an undeniable thrill to it. How Johnny arranged to send his wife to the spa for a few hours. He dropped her off like a doting, dutiful husband and then swung by Jess's apartment and picked her up. He knew it was stupid. He knew he shouldn't do it. He knew he could tell Shelly, and she wouldn't care. But Jess seemed to really crave the secrecy. And he felt so bad for her. She had been in so much pain since ...

So he used that as an excuse to play along. And it was fun. He picked her up, and he took her home and fucked the shit out of her like a rag doll. Jess was one of a kind. They had ridiculous chemistry. It just worked. He could do anything. Yeah, she had been coked up out of her mind from the moment she slipped into his car, but that only made the sex wilder.

"Cum for me, baby," Jess panted as she briefly removed her mouth off his cock.

She was like a wizard. He was close. He couldn't believe she was going to make him cum a fourth time. He wondered how much cum was leaking out of her pussy and ass. He smiled. He owned this slut. It was a powerful feeling, so he pressed his hand on the back of her head and made her gag as he thrust his hips up. That fourth load, a small trickle, hit her mouth, and she groaned.

Johnny pulled into the parking garage at the high-rise just as Jess popped up, flashed the cum on her tongue, and swallowed. She sat back in her seat and gave a long exhale.

"I needed that," she said with genuine relief.

"Jess," Johnny said as the car came to a stop. "We really should quit the sneaking around thing."

"God, stop, Johnny," Jess, rolling her eyes as she opened the door. "It's just a little fun. Shelly doesn't care when she knows about it, so what's the big deal?"

She got out of the car, and Johnny rolled down the passenger window.

"Take care of yourself, Jess, okay?" he said.

Jess tugged on her short minidress. It wasn't really a normal or appropriate midday Wednesday outfit. She bent down and put her arms on the side of the car.

"I always do, stud," she said, the old confidence creeping back into her voice for a moment. "And do me a favor, all right?"

"Sure, what is it?" Johnny said and flashed the smile that made Jess wet every single time.

"Don't shower off," she said, her voice cracking slightly. Maybe from excitement. Maybe from desperation. "I want Shelly to suck you just like that. Can you do that?"

"Sure," Johnny replied, forcing his smile to stay on his face.

Then he rolled up the window and took off. Jess walked inside, the older doorman leering at her like a piece of meat. She was dressed like one. And her hair was a mess. It was pretty obvious what she had been up to. But at least it distracted her for a little while. At least it gave her some pleasure. Her emotions started to flow as her heels click-clacked on the tile floor. Before the doors of the elevator had even closed, the coke bullet was lodged under her nose. She got in four long, deep snorts before it stopped at the sixteenth floor. She fumbled her key and had trouble with her apartment's lock. The glee hit her fleetingly as she opened the door. But then she crumpled onto the sofa and burst into tears.

* * *

"He's crashing!"

"Get the cart in here. Now!"

"Fuck me."

"All the king's horses and all the king's men."

"Humpty dumpty stood a better chance."

"We're losing him."

"Where's the goddamn cart?"

* * *

Kat's hand was shaky as she flicked the lighter to life and held it against the joint. She left it there a second too long and took an aggressive hit. The thick, acrid smoke inundated her lungs, and she almost instantly felt the almost overwhelming rush from the cocaine that was sprinkled liberally inside the rolling paper.

"There it is," she said without exhaling. "I needed that."

"Let me get a hit," Tommy said, walking over to the bed with his cock swinging freely between his legs.

"There, stud," she said, holding it out and exhaling now.

"Fuck that's good," Tommy said.

A loud snort came from the other side of the bed, followed by a pause, followed by a second long snort.

"Baby, I was thinking you could take my pussy this time," Kat said, her words dreamy.

"Sounds good, Kat," Patrick said.

"Bring a line for me?" she asked sweetly.

Tommy passed the primo back to her, and Kat took another hit. She took a toke from the joint in one hand and grabbed Tommy's cock with her other. She stroked it a few times as she inhaled, then blew the smoke on it. She stopped and compared its size to her forearm.

"Do you guys want to do me standing up?" she said. "Bounce me back and forth like a pinball?"

"Sure, babe," Tommy said.

"Whatever you want," Patrick said, holding a mirror under Kat's nose.

She picked up the straw and snorted the line. Her eyes were bloodshot and bleary. Her nose was red. She had lost count of the days. Or was it weeks? Even months? Her pussy and ass were tender, but she didn't know what else to do.

"I want it," she said. "Fucking almost two feet of dick. God. My stomach is going to be so sore tomorrow, you bastards."

"You love it," Patrick said.

"I do," Kat said, trying to convince herself. "I really, really do."

She stood up and was unsteady on her feet. But Patrick and Tommy picked her up, balancing her on their forearms like she was as light as an empty box. Patrick slipped his cock in her pussy, and she gasped.

"God, that just hits me in a place no one has ever been," she gasped.

"Here we go, Kat," Tommy said, and she felt the familiar delight of her sphincter being stretched open.

"Oh, fuck," she groaned. "There it is. Fuck me. Fuck me, my little pinball wizards."

They started to bounce her back and forth between them, inundating both her holes in alternating fashion, like it was a tennis match. Kat cried out incoherently. Her first orgasm ripped through her body in mere moments. She closed her eyes, then opened them again. If she closed them, the images came back to her mind.

The blood-soaked sheets and spots on the floor. The traumatic pinging of the machines that meant god-only-knew what. The barked orders. The agony. His face. The pain. It seared her very soul. She opened her eyes again, trying to brush the pictures from her head.

"Harder," she commanded. "Harder!"

The pleasure hit her over and over. She came so much that she lost count. But it was almost like she didn't feel it. It was involuntary, like a reflex. And it didn't matter. She wondered if she could ever feel real pleasure ever again.

* * *

"What a mess."

"We've got to try to transfer him."

"His leg might fall off if we do that. It's like a goddamn shattered egg shell."

"Push the morphine."

"Has anybody gotten hold of the next of kin?"

"He's crashing again!"

* * *

Rita rolled over and found a note written on Plaza Hotel stationary next to her.

"A car will get you at ten o'clock. Just bring your purse," it read.

She half-smiled, then furrowed her brow and wondered what was going on. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was already 9:40. At least she had slept decently. For once. But there wouldn't be time to shower. She pulled herself out of bed. The robe and slippers had been laid out for her. She sloughed the robe over her shoulders but didn't tie it. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror above the bathroom sinks. The rings were still under her eyes. At least she had time to do her makeup.

Then she noticed the two lines of coke thoughtfully laid out for her. She took them then contemplated doing two more but decided against it. She could take her coke bullet with her and bump up again after she had a cigarette. If she got ready in ten minutes, she'd have time for a smoke before the car arrived. There was still a half pack of Gauloises next to the TV.

The coke hit her bloodstream, and she smiled into the mirror. Weakly. At least the day had gotten started. It looked like there might be a surprise in store. That would probably be fun. And thoughtful. Yet still not really do much to put salve on old wounds.

She took the final pull off the cigarette just as the black Cadillac Escalade stopped at the curb outside the Plaza. She put the butt in the designated receptacle and thanked the bellman who opened the door for her and held her coat closed, though it was tightly tied. Inside, she found a dozen red roses, a bottle of Dom Perignon, and another note.

"Destination: Teterboro," it read.

She poured herself a glass of the Champagne, if only to delay the inevitable for a minute more. But once she did? She took the coke bullet from her purse. She closed her eyes and inhaled twice. Just a bump. Just enough to get through the ride.

They made good time by New York standards, arriving at the Teterboro airport in less than fifty minutes. Rita had finished half the bottle of Champagne and taken two more bumps before the car pulled to a stop next to a Gulfstream G-650. She thanked the driver, cinched her winter coat closed, and walked the twenty feet to the jet's steps. A young, pretty corporate flight attendant greeted her before Rita ducked inside. As soon as her first Golden Goose sneaker touched the carpet inside, she turned on her TV smile.

"There you are!" she heard him say. "Looking radiant as always!"

"Hi, darling," she said, the smile plastered on her face.

She undid her coat, revealing the red teddy he had left for her in the gift box at the hotel. It was sheer lace and tied up the front, pressing her breasts together and up seductively.

"Incomparable," he said, approaching her and putting his hands on her ass as they embraced. He felt her naked cheeks, parted only by the g-string back. "May I?"

"Of course," she assented.

"I'm sorry, but this never gets old," Ryan said as he took a small baggie of white powder and dumped some on the crescent-like tops of her breasts.

"I'm glad," Rita said.

He snorted the two bumps, then licked up the residue. When he finished, he pushed down the compliant fabric of the teddy to reveal her tits. His long tongue snaked around her nipples in turn, greedily sucking on them.

"You are a treasure," he said.

Rita shuddered. Ryan worshiped her. She liked that. But it was ... it wasn't unwelcome. It was ... she had to stop thinking about it for fear of breaking down.

"Thank you, darling," she said.

Ryan kissed her tenderly.

"I wish I could have joined you for that morning cigarette," he said, tasting it underneath the bitterness of the coke.

She smiled and changed the subject.

"Aren't you going to tell me why we're here?" she asked. "You're supposed to be on set!"

"Some snafu," Ryan said. "We've got to shut down for a week. So I thought we should just do dinner in Paris."

"Paris?" Rita said. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he said and plastered that boyish smile across his mug.

The jet was already taxiing for takeoff. The flight attendant had disappeared. Ryan pushed Rita's coat off and drank her in.

"I want you," he said.

Rita didn't respond verbally. She simply pushed the teddy off her body and let it crumple onto the floor. Ryan wordlessly pushed her down onto one of the cabin's sofas. He maneuvered her legs across his shoulders, leaving her heels on, while he settled between her thighs. He was a generous lover and always ate her to at least one orgasm before they fucked. Rita couldn't help but wonder if that was a vestige from the beginning, when she had so much trouble getting aroused for him. Or anyone. But her body didn't lie when it came to his tongue. He was very gifted. Rita came, and she bit her lower lip, stifling the feeling of guilt. Ryan kneeled in front of her, and she smiled at him warmly. They kissed, and she tasted herself.

"Fuck me," she whispered to him.

Her hands found his zipper and pulled out his mammoth cock. She unbuttoned his jeans and pushed them to the floor. She briefly wished she could grab another couple bumps of coke before they started, but that would be awkward. So she turned around and offered herself to him from behind. It was Ryan's favorite. He loved the way her tits hung in doggy style and couldn't resist playing with her asshole with a finger or two.

"Your pussy is a dream," he grunted as he pushed his thick, throbbing cock past her saliva-covered lips.

Rita let out a deep moan involuntarily.

"Give me that big dick," she urged. He liked hearing about his size. "Fill me up."

Like clockwork, his thumb found its way to her back door. He spit down onto her anus from above, then worked the wide digit inside her asshole.

"Yeah, baby," she said and caught a glimpse of herself in the plane's window.

It was an immaculate, cloudless winter day. In her reflection, Rita saw the rings under her eyes trying to break through her makeup. The jet climbed toward cruising altitude. Ryan's cock was persistent but not rough. He adored Rita. He never pushed too hard or too far. He understood. His thumb, however, was more greedy. When she felt that, she knew it was time.

"One day, baby, you'll stretch that tiny asshole with your big dick," she said as if on cue.

"Fuck," Ryan moaned in response.

She reached underneath them and stroked his pendulous balls. They were incredibly heavy, in spite of having last been emptied about eight hours earlier.

"I just have to work up to taking you in my ass," she said. "Maybe we can finally get me that bigger butt plug."

That was all it took. Rita felt shame wash over her after she said it, but, as always, it pushed Ryan over the edge. His body, so muscular and objectively delicious, tensed, and the outflow of sperm rushed inside her. She couldn't lie that his massive loads made her feel good, but only made the guilt worse. As Ryan softened inside her, she staved off the urge to cry. She had gotten good at it. Then, as his cock slipped out of her, she turned around, TV smile already at mega-watt brightness.

"That was such a big load," she said.

"You make me cum like a horny teenager," he said with a chuckle.

They uncoupled, and Ryan let Rita go to the bathroom to clean up. He had left a change of real clothes in there for her, too. He was incredibly thoughtful, Rita told herself as she watched the cum leak out of her pussy as she sat on the toilet and waited to pee.

And what girl wouldn't want to be whisked away to Paris? Just for dinner? Every girl would love that. But not this girl, Rita said to herself. Not today.

* * *

"Holy shit. He's back."

"Yup, we've got a pulse."

"Good work."

"I thought this guy was a goner."

"For sure."

"You ever wonder what makes that happen?"

"What?"

"Someone who's just dead on the table. What makes them come back?"

My eyes flickered open, and I saw six strange faces staring at me. There was a blinding light too close to my face, but I could feel movement -- urgent, measured movement -- all around me.. I tried to speak, but I couldn't form any words. I realized the people were in scrubs. I heard the rhythmic thump of monitoring equipment.

"A lot of people can't. They're too far gone. You've got to have something pretty special to pull through for."

"I thought this guy was way past the line."

Not me, I thought to myself. Not today.