I welcomed the familiar burning sensation in my lungs. Inhaling deeply as I pulled the smoke from my bong. The water at the bottom bubbled offering some relief from the heat of the smoke, but not much. I held the hit in as I placed the bong back on my coffee table. My TV kept rambling on about who knows what. It was more background noise than anything while I smoked. I had planned on connecting my phone to the TV and listening to music for the rest of the night, but I liked to have some show or movie on during the initial process of packing the bowl piece.
A loud knock on my door startled me. Instead of blowing the smoke out smoothly I began coughing violently. The knocking turned into banging as I made my way over to the door hacking a lung out. I couldn't answer the door properly from the spasms in my lungs. Instead I just opened it and coughed in the person's direction.
"It seems like every time I knock on your door you're coughing or you blow smoke in my face. Either I have a sixth sense, or you have a problem." Rick belched as he pushed himself past me into my home.
"Says the high functioning alcoholic." I replied cheerily as I shut the door and followed Rick into my living room.
"Hey I'm more than high functioning. I'm the smartest fucking person in the galaxy. I'm a hyper functioning alcoholic, and recreational drug user," he snapped back at me, "Don't forget that last part."
"You should make a dating site profile, you really know how to sell yourself, Rick." I replied sardonically.
"Jeeeeeh-sus you still have this god awful furniture? When are you going to trash it and get yourself something from this millennium?" He ignored my last comment as he sat and insulted my decor. I did not pick the decor however. I inherited this house from my grandmother when she passed six months ago. If I had known who my neighbors were going to be I would have just sold the house instead of moving in. I hated living in my shitty little apartment with my awful roommates though, and my grandmother knew it. I had no idea she revised her will, so when the lawyer told me she left me the house I was so grateful I couldn't get rid of any of her stuff. Besides, I enjoyed the living room. It had a pastel theme with actual doilies and pretty floral wall paper. The only thing I added was the television mounted to the wall and a new entertainment system.
"These were my grandmother's and I love her too much to get rid of them." I replied as I sat down on the couch next to him.
"But you don't love her enough to not do drugs or fuck gross old men on her couch." He said before hitting the bong without asking. Rick had been coming over for quite some time and he knew he was welcome to it at any time.
I first met Rick a few weeks after I had moved in. I threw a house warming party that he crashed, and I mean that literally. He crashed his ship into my driveway when he saw all the people that were over. He burst through the door with a bottle of some weird blue liquid and shouted it was time to vomit stars. The party got out of hand that night but it was one of the best parties I've ever been to. Ever since then Rick comes by when he feels like getting really fucked up away from his family.
Being Rick's smoking partner for the past six months has opened my world up to so many new drugs. Before Rick I was just a simple stoner who did acid and shrooms on special occasions. Now every weekend seemed like a special occasion. At least when Rick was around. He had a tendency to disappear for a while without saying anything to anyone. I knew it was dumb for me to care that he didn't tell me when he'd be gone for a while, or to worry about him. Yet I still found myself thinking about Rick all the time. He and I weren't romantically involved, but our physical relationship was very much alive and active.
Doing so many drugs with someone you're bound to hook up eventually. I learned to embrace it early on, and now I was happy to be getting some regularly. Plus free drugs, those were always great. Which I assumed his visit today was about because he reeked of weed.
"My god Charlie you're one lucky lady today you know that? I've been growing this on a planet were the soil has actual dopamine in it and there is nitrous oxide in its atmosphere. I get high just from breathing the air Charlie." Rick rambled as he pulled a very full sandwich bag out of his lab coat. I handed him my grinder because Rick never bothered to bring one, or he didn't have one. I couldn't complain though, more keef for me. The smell was even stronger when he opened the bag and I couldn't wait to smoke this with him.
"What strain is it?" I asked leaning over to watch him work. Some of the nugs in the bag weren't even green, I spotted some blues and purples in there as well.
"Blue dream." Rick answered as he dumped the ash out of the bowl piece and began to pack it once again. A small smile began to grown on my face as he worked. Not long after Rick and I met we got into a long discussion about different strains that we liked. I told him my favorite was Blue Dream, but I was never able to get my hands on any. Now here he was, growing it on a planet that seems tailor made for growing marijuana.
There were moments, very small almost unnoticeable moments where Rick does something nice for another person. I know he was growing the weed for himself, but he could have grown any other strain out there. Instead he chose to grow my favorite. That had to mean something right? I liked to think there was some goodness in Rick. As selfish and mean as he could be he really did care about his family, and I could tell when things were on his mind. I would never be able to get him to open up about anything because Rick Sanchez is the epitome of nihilism, but it seemed like he used my house as a sort of escape. He always left in a better mood than when he came in.
It could be the drugs, it could be the occasional sex we had. I don't know nor would I ever know the intricacies of Rick's mind. I'm just happy to share what ever crazy drugs he brings me.
"I'll be right back, can I get you anything to drink?" I asked as I walked to the kitchen.
"Any type of alcohol on the rocks, lots of rocks. This shit is going to buuuurn." He called out. I keep a special bottle of whisky for Rick in my liquor cabinet, so I filled a glass with ice and poured a triple shot for him. I poured a glass of sweet tea with lemon for myself and filled a third glass with just ice for my bong before I made my way back to the living room. Rick was already taking his first hit as I sat next to him placing his drink on the coffee table.
Even the smoke itself looked slightly blue as he exhaled, immediately followed by violent coughing. If Rick was having such an adverse reaction to the smoke I wasn't going to fair nearly as well. I didn't have half the lung capacity he did. I dropped a few ice cubes down the neck of my bong before taking my hit. I took a much smaller one than Rick; I knew my limits.
The first thing I noticed was an instant tingling in my throat.
I had been staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Rick put on some weird punk music he grew up listening to, but as I got higher my hearing became more sensitive. The music was barely background noise now. I've never experienced anything like this before. My entire body tingled pleasantly and I couldn't stop smiling. Every bone felt like Jell-O and I wanted to slip further and further into the couch. My mouth unfortunately felt like the desert however, this was the worst dry mouth of my life.
"Eyyyy, can you get me something to drink please? Rickety split." I called out from my horizontal position on the couch.
"Drink your fucking iced tea." Rick replied startling me as he walked back over to the couch. He had the entire bottle of whiskey in his hand as well as a bag of chips. My eyes scanned the table looking for my aforementioned drink but I couldn't seem to find it.
"I finished it." I told him. Instantly Rick bent over and lifted a full glass of iced tea from the center of the table. My eyes widened as I sat up.
"Whoa, that was not there a second ago."
"You literally haven't taken a sip from when you got it earlier. I knew this shit was strong but I think it's literally given you brain damage." The tall man sat in the seat my head was just laying on. He took a long pull from the bottle, not even flinching as he swallowed it down.
I grabbed my glass of tea and started chugging it. I had never tasted anything as delicious in my entire life. It felt as though I could taste the tea leaves fresh off the tree, and the minerals from the soil the tree grew in. Little bursts of acid lemon were counteracted by the sweetness of the sugar crystals. I was gasping for air by the time I drank the entire glass of tea, some had spilled out the sides of my mouth and was dripping down my chin.
"Holy shit, Rick. That's the best tea I've ever had." I panted looking around for anything else I could eat or drink. I grabbed a handful of chips from Rick's bag. The sharp crisp crunch of each chip rattled my entire spine. I began to moan as I chewed. This high was stronger than anything thing I'd ever felt before, stronger even than the brownies I used to make.
"Damn, if only my tolerance was as low as yours." Rick chuckled as he watched me melt back into the couch.
"Smoke some more then, bitch." I replied goading him on. He didn't need me to tell him twice because Rick immediately took another hit. My living room was filled with more smoke as he suffered another small coughing fit. When that subsided and he was breathing evenly again Rick took another hit. He spent the next five minutes chain smoking from my bong until the bowl was empty.
"Hey, I didn't even get to take another hit." I complained. Rick made a show of rolling his eyes before gesturing for me to come closer. I sat up and leaned into him. Rick gently placed his hands on my face and pulled me in even closer pressing his lips to my own. I opened my mouth as he did, inhaling the smoke from his hit. The smoke had a strong whiskey taste to it, which is not at all surprising, coming from its source. I pulled back from the shotgun, holding the smoke in until I needed to breath before exhaling.
I looked at Rick with a stupid stoned smile on my face. My eyes were probably red and half shut. It was like I could feel the neuro transmitters in my brain shooting off dopamine with each passing second. Rick was looking back at me with an expression on his face that I couldn't read. The wheels were turning in his head for sure, but I had no idea about what.
"Fuck you come here." He finally grumbled as he grabbed my face and pulled me in. His lips once again pressed to my own, but this time with actual passion. I reciprocated the kiss immediately, my heart rate felt like it tripled. Our bodies molded to one another as Rick leaned into me. I followed his lead and began laying back on the couch. He grabbed the back cushions of the couch and threw them somewhere, giving us more space to spread out.
The weight of his body settled over me in comfortable familiarity. I let Rick spread my legs open with his knee. I could feel how hard he was through his pants as it brushed against my inner thigh. I felt the agonizing tug in my stomach as Rick ran his hands along my sides, pushing my shirt up with it. His touch left tingling trails along my skin, the warmth lingering and radiating outwards. Rick broke the kiss and looked down at me as he cupped my face.
I opened my eyes to look back up at Rick, his pupils were so dilated I could barely see his iris. It had to be the weed, but I swore I could see entire galaxies in Rick's pupils. His memories from adventures long past and worlds forgotten or destroyed. His lips were swollen and parted slightly; he was about to say something but I could tell he was holding himself back.
Instead he just kissed me again. On the lips at first but quickly moving up my jaw, then down my neck. Rick nipped and sucked a the soft flesh where my neck met my shoulder, surly leaving small love marks.
"Fuck I need to taste you." He murmured against my skin, pulling down the elastic waist band of my skirt and underwear. I felt a approving twitch in my nether regions as they began to feel uncomfortably hot. My eyes clenched shut when Rick's nimble fingers spread my lower lips open. His warm tongue licked an experimental stripe up my center, earning him a small gasp in response.
"Shiiiiit, that's nice," Rick said before he began going down on me. I thought I went blind at first. Every muscle in my body relaxed as my most sensitive nerves were being given the best massage of their life. Rick's tongue was soft and warm as he circled my clit with perfect pressure and tempo. The moans coming from my mouth were literally involuntary. I wanted to think that I was having such a strong reaction because of the high, but Rick was also a very experienced man. He knew how to eat and treat a lady right.
"If I was smoking a blunt right now I'd be in heaven." I sighed wistfully as I ran my hands through Rick's hair, ruining his hectic style.
"If you were smoking a blunt right now you'd be comatose before I fuck you," Rick said looking up at me, "and the whole point of fucking you is to feel some kind of fake, meaningless connection to another human. If I only wanted an orgasm I could have just jerked off." He snapped before continuing to write math equations with his tongue.
"Wait Rick, what do you mean fake?" I asked sitting up slightly. Rick tried to ignore my question with even more intricate tongue work but I pushed his face away. "I know we're not like soul mates or anything but this isn't just some shallow surface level hookup to me. I keep letting you come back when you disappear all the time, so you at least mean something to me. I can't be literally nothing to someone I'm hooking up with kind of regularly. If I'm just the slutty, stoner neighbor to you then you need to go." I told him as I closed my legs. Rick huffed out an annoyed sigh as he pushed himself back up on the couch.
"You're focusing on the wrong words, Charlie. I said I wanted to make a connection with another human. Me, Rick Sanchez. I only say this kinda shit when I'm fucked up. You have a rare opportunity that my daughter would probably kill you for." He told me as he began moving up my body . Soft caresses along my skin were meant to distract me but I tried to ignore them, no matter how intoxicating they felt.
"You said fake and meaningless connections though." I replied with more of a pout than I'd like. I'm an adult dammit, I don't pout.
"Any emotion you feel during an orgasm is fake and meaningless. You're in a state of bliss. You'd probably care about Hitler during an orgasm if he was the cause of it. W-w-what I'm trying to say is out of all the people in the galaxy and the infinite timelines I can access I chose to get high with you, and if I'm going to feel those fake connections with anyone I'd rather they be with you."