But it was no good. Tony was back in my life – what little life I had – whether I liked it or not. I just didn’t have the strength, the resolve, to stand up to the guy, even if I’d wanted to.
I could say that I was vulnerable, use the excuse that I was still ‘recovering’ from the death of my beloved husband. But the truth is, I actually, subconsciously welcomed it – my descent into Tony’s clutches. At least now I had somebody who would tell me what to do.
Tony told me. I’d do whatever he wanted me to do. He moved right into my apartment that day, him and Hi and various other scummy acquaintances.
Tony didn’t work. He partied all night and slept most of the day, drank and played loud music and video games, dealt drugs on the side. It didn’t take long for my neighbours in the four-storey building to start to complain.
Henry, the superintendent, stopped me as I slunk up the stairs one day, after getting back from my part-time job at the veterinary clinic. My arms were loaded down with beer and junk food for Tony and his gang.
‘Angela, your “
guests” were banging on the walls and floor all afternoon, slamming doors. Mrs Latimer almost had a stroke, she was so upset by it all.’
Mrs Latimer lived in the suite directly below mine. She used to bake cinnamon buns and muffins for Jason and me.
Henry smiled. He’d always been so helpful, as well, watchful, like a second father almost. When I dared to glance up at him, I could see the concern etched all over his kindly face.
‘What’s going on, Angela? You used to be such a good tenant, such a sweet person. You and your hus—’ His voice trailed off, and now he looked down in embarrassment.
‘Sorry,’ I mumbled, and ran up the stairs.
The party went on almost all night, as usual. Until the police finally arrived to break it up when one of Tony’s buddies urinated off the balcony onto Henry’s flowers.
That cleared out most of the riff-raff, but not all. There was still me and Tony, and Tony’s ‘friend’ Ginger.
Ginger was a thin, scraggly-haired woman who dressed and talked and acted like a refugee from the 1960s. She was constantly looking for ‘kicks’, to turn on and tune in and drop out.
I guess I was pretty buzzed myself, wallowing in the sweet-smelling after-party, the air and my mind equally clouded, my body lethargic. So that when Ginger plopped down next to me against the wall and put her arm around my shoulders, I hardly took any notice. Tony dropped down on my other side, crossing his legs like Ginger.
‘Hey, baby,’ he said, rubbing my thigh with a grimy hand. ‘Ginger really digs you. Right, Ginger?’
The woman squeezed my shoulders, staring at me. Then she kissed me on the cheek. ‘I do, man. I sure do. She’s one foxy little lady.’
Ginger kissed me on the cheek again, and this time I felt the wet tip of her tongue caress my face.
I sobered up, fast. I jerked my knees upright and wrapped my arms around them, trying to get small, disappear inside myself, like I used to do as a young girl when I was frightened and faced with adversity. But Tony and Ginger pressed in on me from either side. Tony’s hand travelled up to cup one of my breasts, while Ginger’s hand travelled down to cup my other breast.
‘What d’you say we really party – just the three of us?’ Tony breathed hotly in my ear.
I tried to lift up off the couch and get away, but the pair held me, clutching my breasts in their filthy fingers, then shoving my T-shirt up so that they gripped my bare, heated flesh. They craned their necks down, and Ginger’s cracked lips latched onto my right nipple, Tony’s wet lips sucking up my left. I leaned back against the couch and moaned, hating it and wanting it at the same time. What else was there to do, with those people?
Ginger and Tony worked my tits with their hands, my nipples with their tongues and lips and teeth. Until, abruptly, Tony jumped up, broke his pants open and pulled out his stubby cock. He thrust forward into Ginger’s and my face.
‘Suck it, you sluts!’ he growled, glaring down at us.
Ginger eased me forward with her arm around my shoulder and I took Tony’s outstretched cock into my mouth and sucked on it. He spasmed and grunted, grabbing my hair and hers. I popped my lips off his cock and Ginger slid hers on, sucking off my ‘boyfriend’ herself.
I didn’t mind, didn’t care. Everything was a hazy blur, the more numbed the better. Ginger and I buzzed our lips up and down either side of Tony’s veiny erection, his hands guiding us. Then he pushed our heads together, so that Ginger was kissing me at the end of Tony’s cock, tonguing my tongue, her fingers squeezing my tits and tweaking my nipples again.
Tony liked watching the show. But he had a short attention span. He pushed us sluts back on the couch and crouched in between Ginger’s skinny legs. Her pants were down around her ankles, like mine, somehow. Tony plunged his cock into her red-furred pussy and wildly thrust back and forth, fucking the moaning woman now groping her own tits.
Then he jerked out of her, and jammed his cock into my pussy. Tony grabbed up my thighs and pumped into my tunnel. Greasy sweat splattered down off his face onto my stomach. Ginger rubbed her clit with one hand, fed the grimy fingers of her other hand into my open mouth to suck on.
Tony jumped back and forth, penetrating and pile-driving the pair of us. Ginger and I twisted our tongues together, rolled one another’s nipples, buffed each other’s clits. My body buzzed like my head, despite the sickness in the back of my mind.
Tony soon shook and bellowed and blasted, filling Ginger’s pussy with his spraying semen, then jerking out and jamming his coming cock into my cunt, staining my tunnel with his heated seed yet again. Ginger’s clit vibrated under my fingers like her body on the couch. She pinched my clit, and I shuddered with a racking orgasm of my own, the three of us debauched all together now.
Afterwards, I leaped to my feet, ran for the bathroom and locked myself inside. I sat on the toilet trembling violently, my teeth chattering non-stop. Listening to Tony and Ginger having rough sex on the bed I used to share with my husband.