No One Rides for Free Ch. 01

The first time I actually saw someone using a slut card was when I was in my final year at law school.

It was the end of the week when everyone goes for interviews with the big law firms downtown. The interviews are stressful, to say the least, and all of my classmates were in the mood to blow off steam. We were a bunch of over-confident kids in our late twenties who thought the world was at our feet, so there was a lot of bad behaviour. Cocaine, obviously, was everywhere. People were bragging about how well they had done, and how good their job prospects were. No one knew if they were getting an offer, but we all pretended we knew, and that our futures were secure.

The type of student that dominates these downtown law firm interviews are all the same sort of student—the ones with good enough grades and very good family connections. Most of them took law school seriously, but not as seriously as they took networking and sharing inside knowledge about compensation rates and senior partners.

I wasn't actually part of this crowd, normally. I usually found these princes-in-waiting to be obnoxious, and wasn't desperate to get a corporate job. Those big law firms put you either on the partner track or the mommy track, and I wasn't interested in either of those narrow paths. I was the other kind of law student, the bookish one who had ideals about justice and a burning desire to help people.

I guess my kind of law student was also pretty obnoxious.

But on this weekend, I decided to go out drinking with a bunch of the cocaine-fueled rich kids. I figured that, given they were mostly boys with family money, I would at least be able to get drunk and high for free. I was entertaining the idea that I might even fuck one of the better looking ones, if the mood hit me right.

Back in those days, very few people were taking the risk of using a slut card. We had all heard the bargain: you can try and buy whatever you want, but there is a one in ten chance that instead of being a customer you end up being the merchandise. The rates back then were much simpler than they are now. It was a straight 100:1 deal. For every $100 you try to spend, the store owner gets you for an hour.

A girl named Andrea was using her slut card to cut lines of coke before we were going to head out to the bar. She was the sort of law school girl who pushes a lot of boundaries because she knows exactly how little danger she is in. She was a top-of-the-class student and had plenty of connections. She didn't need to attend class much, and instead spent her time building a network of contacts that would last her the rest of her life.

She also had the sort of body that would make even a straight girl think about giving pussy a try (and I was hardly a straight girl). She wore tight men's tank-top shirts that showed off her perky braless tits (god I miss my twenties) and had a shaved head. She was casually bisexual and made sure everyone knew it, and was very aware that it kept everyone's eyes on her at all times. "Yeah, I got waved over by this chick at a mall and she said I qualified for it, I guess they only hand out the card to certain people."

"Are you going to use it?" One of the other students asked, with a badly-concealed hungry look.

"If I did, I wouldn't tell anyone. Half this school would probably be skulking creepily behind the aisle hoping that my number would come up."

"Oh, I definitely would be," I said to her. I always get a bit too sexually aggressive on cocaine. The whole room burst into laughter, but I kept eye contact with Andrea so she knew I wasn't kidding.

She checked me out silently. I wasn't normally in these sorts of settings, like I told you. So she might have been re-evaluating me. I felt myself getting wet imagining that she had lost her bet on a pricey purchase, maybe a pair of chunky combat boots. What do those cost? At least a couple of hundred dollars. That's two hours where she has to let the store rent her out in order to make back the money they've lost on the other nine out of ten customers who got free boots.

A guy with short blond hair and a set of arms that really demonstrated his dedication to the gym piped up. "I was at a bar the other day that accepts the slut card. Our waiter was a dude who had tried to get bottle service and instead ended up spending the whole night waiting tables naked."

"Was he hot?" Andrea asked.

"He was cut as hell, and I don't know if they made him shave all his body hair off after his number came up, or if he was just like that all the time. He seemed pretty gay, though."

"Shouldn't matter, from what I've heard," another student said. This one was Raheem, who I knew a little from Wills and Estates class. He was a nerdy guy who usually spoke up in class whenever he thought he knew something. I was kind of surprised he was even there. He certainly wasn't touching any of the coke. "They are talking about bringing in restricted cards, so that a straight guy can use it and say that he won't touch any men even if he loses. But they don't have the restriction system worked out yet. So if he's gay, he still has to eat any pussy the bar tells him to eat until his time runs out."

The guy with the arms smiled. "Really? That's intense. I should have tried to make him eat Sandra out in between bringing drinks over." I guess Sandra was his girlfriend.

"Anyway, I'm not going to end up waiting tables naked for all you creeps. If you guys want to go somewhere that accepts slut cards, I'll go along, but I'm keeping mine in here." Andrea put her card back in her wallet.

***

We went to a normal club instead, and I let the guy with the arms buy me a few drinks. I danced with him a bit and felt myself get carried away. I was still thinking about Andrea at the counter of the shoe store. She swipes her card and the indicator on the reader beeps red and her face falls. She hands the box of boots back, and then takes a step back from the counter. She undoes the top button on her jeans...

"You are really sexy," the guy with the arms shouted at me over the music, his hands running up and down the sides of my body. He was very considerate; spending a year in a mandatory Criminal Law class is a great way to get boys to learn about enthusiastic consent. None of the boys in law school ever pushed farther than I wanted them to. I looked him straight in the eye and moved one of his hands so that it was grasping my ass cheek.

"You're a decent dancer, for a corporate tax lawyer," I said smiling at him.

"Neither of us are lawyers yet," he said to me, as if I was unfamiliar with the facts. Good arms, but not particularly smart.

"Humour me," I said. "For tonight, you're the downtown big money scumbag and I'm making a terrible mistake by being drawn in by your charm."

He tried to smile confidently, although I could tell he was a bit unsure of how to play his role. Which was strange, because it was the role he was born to play. Whatever, I thought, and wrapped my fingers as far around his bicep as I could. They didn't even make it a third of the way around. Brains aren't everything.

Again my mind wandered to my vision of Andrea. She was naked now, long and lean with those cute little tits standing forward as she knelt on the ground in the shoe store. Beside her a sign says "Blowjobs: $50 with purchase of any shoes." A line of men are rushing to the cash register, and the first one who finishes his purchase unzips the front of his tan slacks and fishes out a long, thick cock which Andrea obediently accepts into her hot little lipstick-free mouth...

Arms told me "I want to kiss you." I grabbed the sides of his head and devoured his lips with mine. At first he was a little surprised, but he caught up quickly. I pressed myself against him and felt his erection through the denim of his pants.

"You had a good interview, didn't you," I said.

"Yes," he said.

"You're feeling like you are on top of the world, aren't you." I slid my hand in between us, so that I could cup his cock without anyone seeing it.

"I feel like a god damn rock star," he smiled.

"On this night, you could do anything. Anything you want." I made my voice husky and stared into his eyes as I started stroking him in public. His eyes closed instinctively, then flashed open as he looked around to make sure that no one saw us.

He pulled me close to him so that he could whisper in my ear. "I want you to go into the men's room and wait for me in a stall." He said, finally getting into the spirit of things.

"Yeah? And what do you want after that?" I said.

"I want you to take your panties off." He said, smiling.

"And after that?"

"I want to eat your pussy."

I turned away from him, shot him a sultry look over my shoulder, and began to walk towards where the washrooms were. I was incredibly wet and not thinking straight. Between the cocaine and the several-hour-long drinking binge. Andrea, always attentive and still surprisingly sober, caught up with me as I was about to walk into the men's room.

"The women's room is over there, are you OK?"

Impulsively I snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her close. "I'm fine," I whispered in her ear. "I'm just going to get serviced by that boy with the lovely arms. Do you want to hide in the stall next door so you can watch him go down on me? That would be pretty hot, actually."

Andrea's face was less than an inch from mine, and she smelled incredible. I didn't want to pull away. She turned towards me and gave me the briefest kiss on the mouth before gently removing my arm from her waist. "Not tonight, I think. But that does sound hot. I'll keep that idea in mind next time I need something to masturbate over."

"I'll be thinking of you using that card of yours." I said back, as she walked away.

When I got into the stall I was already thinking about Andrea again. I imagined her expertly sucking the fat cock of the man who bought a pair of loafers. Then, I saw her face level with a skateboarder's knee-length shorts and his hairy knees at her shoulders as she licked his balls. He was holding a box with a new pair of sneakers in it.

I barely noticed when Arms got there and knelt down in front of the toilet, lifting my hips straight off the cold seat and settling his tongue directly on my clit. I was so lost in my fantasy that I nearly tried to make a decision of what kinds of shoe I was going to buy. But I managed to get back to reality. Arms was very good at this; he could hold up most of my weight without any trouble and was enthusiastically driving his tongue against my clit sloppily.

"God, that's good," I said in a tone that was meant to be a whisper. As if anyone wouldn't notice. I am sure we were entirely obvious, but I was beyond caring.

Arms began systematically trying to learn what drove me crazy. He started with fast flicks of his tongue, then longer slow ones, more pressure and then less, dialing in closer and closer with each variation. I was in a state of total abandon. An image hit my mind of a high-value customer in the shoe store; a society woman who would easily drop thousands of dollars on shoes. The clerks closed the store and sent all the men away so that Andrea could crawl to the high-roller on her hands and knees and lick her way up the inside of the rich woman's inner thigh...

With that, my orgasm arrived like a thunderstorm from clouds that had been darkening the sky for hours. It was sudden, thunderous, and an incredible relief after so much tension and anticipation. My fingers were in the short blond hair, grabbing and pulling his face into my pussy as I convulsed. I didn't care if he could breathe or not.

When my muscles uncoiled, I sank back down to the dingy men's room toilet. I looked around and realized that there was graffiti on the stall walls and the muffled sound of the dance music coming in the door. I felt as if a spell had been lifted.

Arms was still holding my hips up, so he gingerly laid me down and stood up in the confined space. He grinned sheepishly, his chin still glistening. He said "That was pretty wild."

I tried to figure out whether there was anyone else in the room. I must have been doing making some kind of face, because he understood immediately and said "no one has come in since me. We're safe."

I sighed with relief, and then nearly burst out laughing. I had never done anything like this before. I tried to explain my reaction to Arms. "I can't believe we just..."

"Oh, I know," he said. "I have never done anything like this before. This was absolutely the hottest thing ever. But I think the smart move would be for us to leave, one at a time, without pressing our luck any further."

I nodded, realizing how horny and irresponsible I had been. Did I really say those things to Andrea?

I should NOT do cocaine, I thought.

Arms left, and I was pleased to see that he was thoughtful enough to send me a text saying "coast's clear" moments later. I quickly stepped out of the men's room and then started walking purposefully back towards the dance floor as if nothing had happened. I was still buzzing a little but didn't feel the need to molest anyone else. About an hour later, I was back at my apartment and collapsing into bed.

Law school had lots of high and low moments there were high-stakes exams, hours of tedious and difficult work, and plenty of wild nights. But the first time I ever saw a slut card was one of the most memorable ones.