Plaid Ties and Neon Lace

"What are you doing here? Oh, god oh, my god I am so screwed! Oh, please tell me you didn't show that to my father?" She grabbed my arm and shook me. Maybe it was that or just something about her eyes that caught my attention. Set old radars to twirling.

"I didn't tell him. What did you take Abigail?" I asked suddenly concerned.

"What? What? It just a couple of tabs of Ecstasy."

I sighed, I could have been worse I guess. I looked her over for signs that she wasn't handling the drug well. I knew them from far too many personal experiences.

"No. I didn't show it to your father," I repeated to calm the still frantic look on her face. I could not have been more surprised if you hit me with a hammer when she leaned in against my chest, holding on to me by my vest.

"Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you..." She continued to chant it like a prayer for long enough that I began to worry about that dosage again.

Then she began to pet my vest. "This is beautiful cloth."

Alrighty then, not just Ecstasy rolling the dice behind her eyes tonight. When I tilted up her chin to look at her blue rimmed eyes, she smiled.

"You're cute. Do I know you?" she asked.

"Yes, you do. Jim, from the office. Remember I just showed you this?" I held up the flier.

She shook her head. "But that was hours ago?" She turned her head. "Do you normally have red fire in your hair at work?"

Oh, not good. Not good at all.

"Abigail? I need you to focus on me here for a minute, okay? Now other than the Ecstasy what have you had to drink or what else did someone give you?" I asked.

"Snoopy."

"What?" I asked, confused but not terribly surprised. I've heard far worse things from someone drugged out their head.

"I ate Snoopy," she told me happily, back to playing with the embossed treading on my vest. "Pretty."

Drug management 101, keep the lunatic calm at all costs.

I undid the gold buttons and handed her the vest. I steered her to the silk sheet covered bed. "Sit here and wait for me, okay?" I told her as I got her to settle down onto the mattress.

"Sure." She mumbled then curled up absently playing with one of the buttons. I was about to leave when she looked up at me and asked. "Can you get me about four more of those Red Bulls? The last four were really good."

Oh, blood of Jesus Christ on a soda cracker!

Four!

"Yeah, sure. No problem."

When I stalked back down that hall I was not in a good mood. And the old me was fully in play. There was no longer the man who worked in an office day today, wearing stupid ties, shuffling files all day. Nope, this was the guy who spent almost two years of his life following Type O Negative from city to city on their Bloody Kisses tour and can hardly remember being sober for a single moment. A man for whom bar fights, puking pizza on gray tiled emergency room floors, or snorting cocaine off a stripper's ass was once my normal Saturday night.

A man that buried four damn good friends before he was twenty-five due to shit just like this.

As I stepped back out into the noise, I looked around for the "Guy." Every party like this has one. Hell, I've been the "Guy" on more than a few nights myself. The one nearly sober person who is handing out free drugs like trick or treat candy.

Just to make the party really pop.

"Hello, there asshole," I muttered to myself as I saw him. Maybe forty feet away, with a crowd around him trying to not look like they were a crowd. I was halfway across halfway to him when he saw me. Now when I was the "Guy" and someone came walking straight towards me, like I was walking towards him, I would have been more than a bit freaked.

Yep!

Two long strides and I caught him by the heavy gold chain around his neck before he could run. Giving it a quick twist, I stopped him from sprinting off like a pit bull on a choker collar.

"Hello there. Let's talk Snoopy shall we?" I asked smiling. Now I know from having practiced it many nights in the mirror, all those years ago, I can be a bit intimidating when my face is plastered with this lunatic like smile. "Did you give something ... Snoopy ... to a girl with blue hair?"

I regretted that stupid question as soon as I asked it.

"What, do you know how many girls there are in here with blue hair... gack!" he squealed.

You know it's really hard to be a pain-in-the-ass-jerk when someone has you by your jewelry. And I don't mean the necklace. Gripping his nuts, I leaned in till I was right by his ear.

"Little girl, all in blue. Handing out fliers came to you." I paused and bit my lips when I realized I was Dr. Seuss rhyming. "You gave her something that had Snoopy on it. Now, you can give me a hint as to what it was or I can play Lucy and yank the ball away from Charley Brown." My fingers tighten harder on the crotch of his pants till he was ready to cry.

"Alright! Alright! Yeah, Snoopy. I've got them right here." From his pocket, he pulled out a plastic bag filled with Sunday morning cartoon clippings from the local paper. As he held them up a little higher one of the dozens of black lights in this place caught it.

Garfield and Hagar the Horrible were glowing like a nightlight.

"Acid? How strong is it?" I demanded.

The guy shrugged, but then quickly spoke as he saw me about to castrate him. "I had it made up pretty strong. Look, man, I've told you what I know about it, alright? How about you stop caressing my sack?"

Turning him loose, I went to go back to Abigail but his hand caught my arm.

"Dude is something wrong with the acid?" I could hear the pleading that there wasn't in his question. Having been in his shoes before, I shook my head.

"No. I just have a girl who got filled up on Red Bull, dropped a couple of things of Ecstasy...then you gave her acid." I flexed my bicep under his hand and he turned me loose. "Now I've got to go see to her."

"Holy crap." I heard him say behind me as I walked away.

Making my way back to my bosses' daughter, I ran through all of my options. The responsible suit and tie guy I have spent years trying to become told me to immediately call her father. To maybe get her to a hospital, she needed to be on a heart monitor or at least under observation in a place equipped to deal with the drugs she had in her.

As I made my way down that hallway, with the curtains hiding the soft moans of people locked in the throes of pleasure, the darker part of my soul gave a foul suggestion, which I ignored completely. Even at my worst, I had never been the type to take what was not offered. I might think it but that was the end of that.

When I pulled the curtain back on the alcove I had left her in, though, I saw that I was not the only one with that thought.

"You get her legs. I want first shot at fucking that tight looking ass," said the first man.

Abigail's completely entranced face said-without a word spoken-that she was not aware of what these two guys were doing to her. As they worked at stripping her she was still absently petting my red brocade vest as if it was a stray cat she was considering adopting.

"Get that stupid looking thing away from her, so she will pay attention to us fucking her," said the second. "I want a blowjob."

"You're going to need to have a dick to get one of those and I'm about to cut yours off at the root." My voice held a cold tone I hadn't heard from my throat in years. "If you get away from her real quick like I might let you keep your nuts, though."

When they turned to look at me their eyes dropped to my hands and the two weapons I held. A small flashlight style stun gun taser in my left gave off a blue electric arc as I pushed the button, but I think it was the seven inches of steel straight razor, I had taken from the sheath built into my boot, which held their full attention.

"Hey, whoa, hold the phone dude! We didn't know she was spoken for! We just walked past saw her sitting in here all alone and..."

"Close your teeth together and walk the hell out now." I warned them, ominous tone still holding "I'm so not in the mood to listen to you and so in the mood to send someone to the hospital."

I smiled. That was all it took.

"Come on." The second one said softly to the first, when that man began to look like he wanted to protest. "There are plenty of asses outside that don't have a pit bull guarding 'em."

I made damn sure they were not only out the room but down the hall and out into the club before I turned back to Abigail. The two guys had gotten her a fair way towards naked before I walked in on them. Not that she seemed to be really noticing.

"Abigail?"

"Hum?" She looked up at me and smiled. "You're cute."

Despite myself, I had to chuckle. "Thank you. Come on Abigail, let's get you home. How about it?"

"Home?" She paused thinking about it. "But there is no music there?"

"We can fix that." I held out my hand to her, let her make the decisions, don't force anything. I took a deep breath remembering a few bad acid trips I had ridden out and the memories of those helped build the determination to not let her go through that same sort of thing. "We'll take the music with us."

"Oh, okay."

When her fingers closed on my hand, I helped her to her feet, and then settled her clothes as best I could. I won't claim to be any kind of priest; I was getting very hard as my fingers brushed her soft skin while I re-buttoning her blue blouse. When I finished that I looked at her face to find her looking at me a soft smile painted with a gentle brush across her lips. Then she leaned herself up against my chest.

"I like it here with you. You're safe."

Safe? Yeah ... that's why I want to strip you out of those flashy clothes and devour your pussy like it's all you can eat rib night at Sizzlers.

"Come on, Abigail. Let's go."

"Uh hum."

The walk, out to where we could catch a cab, was not easy. The interplay of illicit substances in her blood stream and playing behind her eyeballs was making it difficult to guide her away from bright flashy lights and music. I had the doorman flag us a cab. While we waited, with her nuzzling against my chest like a cat, I pondered where to take her. Her place, my place? Where would she feel safe? That was the critical thing. To get her someplace safe and comfortable. Some place where there would not be any chance of screaming disruptions to throw her into a bad trip. Then I suddenly thought of something.

"Abigail, where do you live? The address?" I asked her.

"Hum ... Oh, I live in the guest house at my daddy's place." She swayed to the music playing behind us.

No way. In Hell. Am I. Taking her there. Like this.

I gave the cab driver my address and helped Abigail into the back of the cab. When she laid her head in my lap, still absorbed with the embroidery on my vest, I leaned back and sighed. Opening my eyes minutes later, I saw the cab driver was looking at me in the rearview mirror. He grinned and gave me a thumbs up.

Looking down at my bosses' daughter I realized what the cabby thought she was doing.

"Oh, fuck my life."

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

I let her have my cell phone, music playing for her, about halfway there. She turned on her back, head still on my lap and danced with her feet on the ceiling of the cab. My phone clutched between those perky breasts, against that blue silk bra.

Abigail looked so beautiful I had to keep my hands to myself. And the fact she wouldn't have cared in the least made it all the worse. Too many years spent in just such a situation as this, a girl stoned-off-her-ass, me in not much better shape, cab rides to empty hotel rooms. Sex till dawn that I couldn't really remember. Stained, still soaking wet sheets and a sore cock the only judge to how good it had been. And another meaningless bangle bracelet on my arm.

I absently brushed blue hair out of her eyes. She looked up at me and smiled.

So innocent. Too innocent. Far too innocent to be in the hands of an old Goth like myself.

I blinked at that thought. Old Goth? Since when did I think of myself as a Goth anymore? Looking out the window at the passing trees of the park I knew that answer. Since I put these old clothes on. I gazed into my own reflection being cast back at me from the glass. Hair a spiky red, eyes black outlined. Lipstick! That was what was missing; I used to wear black lipstick. How ... how could I have forgotten that? Too caught up with trying to figure out who in the office had made up the flyer.

Looking down at the girl in my lap I mused on the fact that so simple a quest, find the maker, had led me to this moment. My eyes went to the soft swell of her breasts and my hand shook for a moment. Maybe it was the clothes, or the music or the drink or just all of it together but I suddenly wanted a taste of my old life. I wanted to say to hell with Monday. Light out for ... oh where the hell ever there was a band I knew going to be playing and then spend the week too stoned and fucked up to find my own feet. Or maybe ... do something really stupid and take my bosses daughter nine ways to Sunday.

"Oh, just let it go. You're not that guy anymore."

My reflection didn't agree and when Abigail turned over so her face was on my lower stomach, and gave a contented moan as she hugged my brocade vest, neither did my cock.

The cabbie started to laugh.

"Just fuck my life to tear Agnes, just fuck it to tears." With a shake of my head, I looked away from the grinning cab drivers face.

"Who's Agnes," Abigail snuggled into me closer "and do you think can I borrow her shoes? These pinch my toes."

With a sigh, I looked back out the window. Going to be a long night.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

"Oh! Hello, Kitty."

"Right, pretty cat, nice cat. Let's go have a seat on the couch. She will let you pet her till the sun comes up." Guiding Abigail past my little huntress, who followed us meowing questions about who the hell is this in her house, I managed to get my bosses daughter to the living room. "Let me get you some water."

"There's no music here."

Picking up my remote, I turned on my sound system. Leaving her puzzling over the song, I went to my kitchen and grabbed two bottles of water, then a beer for myself. It's going to be that kind of night after all.

"I don't know this song."

Her voice came down the hall to me along with the familiar deep growl of Peter Steele. I grinned when I heard Abigail start to try and sing along.

"... she's got a date at midnight ... black, black number one ..."

Sinking down onto my leather covered knees in front of her, I took her hands and wrapped them around the cold bottle of water. Picking up my phone, I hit replay. When the song started over I smiled at her puzzled look.

"She's in love with herself, she likes the dark ..." My voice wasn't as good as it once had been, years of neglect had robbed it of the vocal training I had once been given. "On her milk-white neck, the Devil's mark."

Abigail sat fascinated by my face, her eyes roaming over every pore while I sang softly to her. When her hand, wet with cold condensation caressed my cheek, I smiled back at her.

"You are not what you seem at work." She shook her head in confusion. "I've never noticed that you had red hair here." Her hand drifted to the crimson blasé in my hair.

Chuckling, I looked up at her blue bangs. "You're one to talk. Does your dad know his daughter has blue hair?"

Her eyes went wide. "No ... dad can't know about any of this! He would go mental. He's not here is he?" She began to look frantically around my apartment. "Ah, where is here by the way?"

"We are at my apartment." I took the forgotten bottle of water from her, opened it and handed it back to her. "Drink some. You will feel better."

She mindlessly did what I told her. The reality of that was a hammer blow to my self-control. Here was this beautiful young woman, so sweet she was like honey wine, and she was willing to do whatever I told her. Her next words shook me even harder.

"So, are we going to have sex or what?" She looked around her. "That is why you brought me here, right?"

"No." I pushed the horny part of my brain back into its box and closed the lid. "I brought you here because you were going to get hurt at the rave in the condition you are in."

"What condition am I in?" Her tone was childlike.

"On the edge of overdosed." Taking the water bottle from her before she dropped it, I placed my fluffy cat in her lap. She looked down at the bundle of fur. With delight, Abigail began to pet the purring goddess of my home.

"What his name?"

"Her name ... is Éponine." I brushed the soft fur my fingers touching Abigail's on occasion. "From--"

"Les Misérables! Oh, I love that movie."

My jaw nearly dislocated as I twitched in agony. With a shake of my head and a shudder, I got up from my knees and sat down next to Abigail on the couch. "No, I named her after the character from the book. I've never seen the movie they made, well not beyond the trailer."

"There is a book?" Abigail was absently teasing Éponine's ear fur, something I knew was going to get the young lady's hand scratched if she kept it up too long. "Is it out on e-book?"

Before I could answer, her eyes drifted out of focus on me and she became absorbed in the stitched patterns in the throw blanket draped behind up. It was old, nearly threadbare in places. A memento of my past tossed over my stoned, drunk, nude body one cold night by an unknown person. It could have been anyone who had felt sorry for me. Had it saved my life that night? That sympathy? Hard to say, it had been really cold and I had certainly been too out of it to have noticed if I was freezing to death. As I watched Abigail, her drugged mind controlling her senses to the point she was nearly that bad I began to realize I was, in a way, paying back that unknown person here tonight.

Slowly, in the hours that passed, the acid rode the ecstasy. Taking hold of Abigail in often odd ways. Questions would pop into her head and then out her lips with no pause or filter. Dozens of questions. Finally, the caffeine buzz of the too many Red Bull drinks began to fade a bit. So did Abigail. Her questions began to become slurred. Her attention to my answers began to grow less and less. Finally, with the dawn well past and Sunday morning growing brighter, I picked her up from the couch and carried her to my bedroom. Leaving her under my designer sheets, comfortably nestled into my pillows with Éponine curled up next to her, purring softly.

My couch has often served as a bed for me, on nights when a TV show lulled me in too deeply. Or, more often of late, when a book I'm reading blurred into moving dark words on a fading page. Today, with a single pillow and that throw blanket I slept uneasily. The reason simple. I had a lovely woman in my bed in a terrible state of unmolested.

And my conscious mind was at war with my bodies need. Lust and desire taking the need to be a gentleman to task. With a sigh and old memories of a time when there would have been nothing to even think about I finally drifted off to sleep.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Someone tugging on my ear woke me up. My blinking eyes took in the afternoon sunlight and a face haloed by that glow. The blue hair and lipstick smear was my first clue before a hard finger jabbed me in the side.

"Hey! Wake up."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm up, I'm up." Sitting up I rubbed the back of my neck. "What?"

"Um, don't take this wrong but why am I in your apartment and alone in the bed? Normally when I wake up in a strange guy's house it's to morning wood demands and sex stinky sheets."

When I looked up she got a puzzled look. Standing up her eyes followed me.

"I know you from the office? Oh, my god! Jimbo!"

"I hate that name." Scratching a hand across my chest and lower stomach I noticed I had unbuttoned the top button of my leather pants while a slept. An old habit. Her eyes followed my hand and then her head tilted, taking in the old tattoo half hidden by my pubic hair.