A Dreamer's Paradise
Bulma sat on the couch. Two hours ago, she had gotten home from her father's funeral. It had been a huge ordeal with hundreds and hundreds of people there. Through the whole service, Bulma hadn't shed one tear. She only plotted.
Yaumcha had held her hand through the whole thing. She was strangely glad, for otherwise she would have become too lost in her thinking to realize the flow of time.
At the luncheon, she ate nothing and Yaumcha took her home early, pleading to the guests that she was slightly traumatized and needed to be alone. The guests had shot her looks filled with pity and Teddy had nodded, too choked up to speak. So now, she was back home with Yaumcha.
She had finally come up with her master plan. She would continue to visit Richie, building a stock of the drug until she couldn't possibly take any more. Then, she would stop visiting him. Leave the poor boy heart broken, just as long as she got the goods. With Yaumcha, she would continue her charade until the end of summer. That way, she had two supplies of the drug coming to her. Plus, she just loved the feeling of having power over the simpering fool. When summer was over, she'd just have to break his heart. Or kill him.
She had decided that she wanted to create a new identity in college. No, she'd keep her name, but she'd be known as a pusher. She'd be dangerous, mysterious and unobtainable. She'd make new connections, having an alter ego outside of college.
She was sick of being bossy, spoiled, cute, innocent Bulma. Her father's death had somehow made her realize that. And now, she was going about changing herself, in the easiest and most fun way Bulma knew.
Right now, though, she wanted to see what the drug did. She'd make Yaumcha take it, watching the effect it had on him.
Where was Yaumcha? Oh yes, in the kitchen. Bulma got up and walked over to the kitchen door, sticking her head through and glancing around. She saw Yaumcha by the sink, drinking a glass of water.
Bulma had to admit that he looked extremely handsome. He was wearing a black suit with a midnight blue shirt. His midnight black hair was at a length that gave Yaumcha a bad boy look without looking too disheveled.
"Hi," Bulma said. Yaumcha turned around in surprise.
"Oh, hi!" he said. "Hungry?"
"A little," she admitted. "I never did eat lunch."
"Wanna go out? Or I could make you something." He suggested.
"Or I could make myself a sandwich," she said. "I'm not crippled, ya know."
"Just trying to help," he said, a little surprised and hurt. Bulma sighed and walked over to him. He opened his arms and pulled Bulma against him in a tight embrace. Bulma held him as well, just as tightly. She imagined Richie's skinny body, his lanky arms holding her close. Unconsciously, her grip tightened and her eyes shut of their own accord.
"Lets do it now," she whispered.
"What?" Yaumcha said, confused. Bulma pulled back and looked at his face.
"Now. The drug. You know?"
"Are you sure you want to?" he asked.
"Yes. Is there anything special we need to do to take it?"
"Well, its best if you put it in a drink." Yaumcha said slowly. "Bulma, will you eat something first, please?" she nodded and walked over to the cabinet. She opened it and grabbed two slices of bread. From the fridge, she got mustard, turkey, and cheese. She slapped them on the sandwich and ate it in five huge bites. She got a glass and drank a cup of water. Then she grabbed another glass and took the coke out of the fridge. She poured a cup for her and one for Yaumcha.
"Will this be alright?" she asked. He nodded. Bulma then walked up the stairs and into her bedroom. She heard Yaumcha following her.
"You know, I suppose you're lucky that I brought some with me." Yaumcha said. It didn't really sound like he thought Bulma was lucky. He was probably wishing that he'd never slipped a couple into his pocket. She turned to face him.
"I don't know what you're worried about. It's not like we're going to do this ever again!" she said.
"Well then why are we doing it now?!" he shouted.
"Oh, Yaumcha, you sound so frustrated." Bulma cooed, walking over to him. He watched her with suspicious eyes. She took his sports coat off and tossed it onto the bed. Bulma herself was wearing a modest black dress but she had chosen it because she still looked beautiful in it.
"Can't you just admit that it could be fun?" she whispered. Then she kissed him. Once again, Yaumcha was losing his will to fight.
Maybe he could try it, just this once. He probably wouldn't get addicted. No! He would NOT get addicted! He had more faith in himself. And Bulma really was a little distressed. She needed his love, his help. If this was the help she called for, who was he to ignore?
"Alright," he said with a sigh. "Just this once." Bulma smiled at him. He took one of the packets and opened it, dropping the pill into his glass. He handed one to Bulma, who walked over to where she had set down her glass. She opened it, but she only pretended to drop it in. Instead, she dropped in a bead that she found nearby. Then she turned around to face Yaumcha, glass in hand.
"On the count of three, we'll drink at the same time," he said. Bulma nodded. "One, two, three." They both drank up, although Bulma had to be careful not to swallow down the bead.
"Argh! That burned!" she gasped. She made a mental note never to chug coke. Yaumcha nodded, his face screwed up in pain. Bulma quickly shut her door, propping a chair against it so that it would stay shut. Then she went over to Yaumcha, who had moved to sit on Bulma's bed.
"Help me take my dress off." She whispered to him urgently. He nodded slowly and unzipped Bulma's dress. After she slipped off her shoes, Bulma was left wearing a black lacy bra, a black thong, and black tights. Yaumcha didn't do anything about it, though.
Interesting, Bulma thought.
Then Yaumcha let out a high pitched laugh and fell backwards onto Bulma's bed. She moved to his side and took of his tie. She unbuttoned his shirt and took it off of him. Then she took off his shoes and swung his legs around so that he was lying the right way on Bulma's bed. Then Bulma lay down next to him. She watched him to see what the drug did.
His eyes were unfocused and sweat gleamed off his forehead. He smiled and every now and then he giggled.
Bulma sat up and rolled on top of Yaumcha. He giggled and started babbling.
"The upside-down word! Don't you see it?" he said, giggling. "Oh, the colors! So pretty!" He pointed towards the ceiling. "It says 'plate' upside- down! I see it!" Bulma leaned down and kissed him. Hard. He didn't respond at all.
How fascinating. He's no longer interested in having sex.
For the next hour, Yaumcha was content to stare at the ceiling, every now and then laughing uproariously.
As he came out of his high, though, things became a little difficult.
Yaumcha screwed up his eyes and moaned.
"My head," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, the agony!"
Bulma ran to her bathroom, grabbed two Aleve and a cool washcloth, and returned to her bed. Yaumcha had curled up into the fetal position, moaning.
"Take these," she whispered. "They'll make your headache go away."
He reached out blindly and mumbled for some water. Bulma ran back into the bathroom and grabbed a glass of water. She returned and Yaumcha drank up the water along with the two Aleve. Then Bulma placed the washcloth on his forehead.
A couple of minutes later, he was a little better. Well enough for the wheels to start turning.
"How come you don't have a headache?" he asked, voice muffled by the cloth over his whole face.
"I do," she said hastily. "I'm just not whining about it."
"Bull," he said. "If you felt what I feel, you'd moan a little too."
"Yaumcha, I'm going to make an educated guess and say this drug has a different effect on different people! I'm also going to suggest that you never take it again. It pains me to see you in so much pain!" she said, getting choked up (pretend).
"Do you remember the colors?" Yaumcha murmured. "It was so pretty."
"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" Bulma responded softly.
"It was like a paradise of colors," he said.
"A dreamer's paradise, maybe." She responded. Then Yaumcha lifted the cloth off his face.
"Why did you kiss me?" he asked. "That was weird. I didn't want you to kiss me."
"Never again?" she said innocently.
"You know what I mean," he said crossly.
"Well, like I said. The drug has different effects on different people. I don't really remember why I kissed you. Maybe I can kiss you know? To make up for before?"
He smiled tiredly, and nodded. She scooted over and straddled Yaumcha once again. She leaned down and kissed him. For a minute, Yaumcha responded, but he soon fell asleep. Bulma sat up again.
Finally! I thought the damn stuff wasn't going to kick in!
Bulma rolled off of him and walked over to her closet. She opened it and grabbed her tiny leather mini skirt, her fishnet stockings and leather straps, her leather boots, and a new skanky shirt.
She needed to see Richie. All this kissing was making her wish for Richie's body close to her. She certainly didn't want to take out her frustrations on Yaumcha, the selfish machine! She needed Richie.
---------------Downtown---------------
Bulma walked through the dark streets. She had almost reached Richie's street. For some reason, she felt as if she was being watched. Every time she turned a corner, there was a new set of eyes.
It never occurred to her that men might be interested in what Bulma (supposedly) had to offer. She was only thinking of Richie.
Soon, she reached his street. It took a little searching, but she could make out his dark silhouette. She slowly walked up to him. The moment he noticed her, Bulma was sure to throw her chest out more and kick her hips farther out.
"Richie?" She asked in her fake accent. She reached him, stopping when there were only centimeters of space between them.
"Sophie," he breathed. "You here."
"Richie, I need you!" she whispered with pain. And she threw her arms around him with unfeigned joy, need, and agony.
"Come up with me," he said into her ear. "We talk up there." With that, Richie led Bulma up the stairs into his dilapidated tiny apartment. He sat on the bed and took Bulma into his lap. This time, unlike when she cuddled with Yaumcha, Bulma relished their closeness.
"Sophie, anythin' wrong?" Richie asked with his growling voice.
"Only if it be wrong that I need you, need to see you." She said.
"I was thinkin' 'bout you," he said. "I'm glad you came."
"When you think 'bout me?" she cooed. She was touched!
"Since you left." He admitted. "I worried, I wouldna known where to find you."
"Maybe I think a little 'bout you, ya?" she said.
"You try goods?" he asked, changing the subject.
"No."
"Why you take them then?" He sounded slightly angered.
Bulma began her acting for the first time since she started talking with Richie.
"Maybe I no use, I sell so I don't gotta stay with a man for money ever again," she said softly. She slipped her hand under his sweater and all his layers and began to stroke his belly. He quivered under her touch.
"No man ever again?" he growled.
"Well, maybe one." She teased. Richie flipped her over and gently set her down. She allowed her eyes to sparkle and pulled of his sweater again.
---------------Later---------------
Bulma felt much better. She knew that she'd be able to spend the night with Richie because she'd but in enough sleeping pills to knock out a chimpanzee. Thus, when they were done screwing around, Bulma moved in to spoon with Richie. He was confused at first.
"You not leavin'?"
"I guess not." She said with a smile. She put her head on one of his arms and his other arm pulled Bulma close.
"Good," he breathed into her hair. "Stay with me."
---------------The Next Morning---------------
Richie awoke first the next morning. He stretched and his close proximity to Bulma woke her up.
"Mornin'." she said, grinning. Richie nodded gruffly. Bulma's eyes popped open. The room had one window and light streamed through.
"I never seen your face in such beauty." She whispered. He was a handsome boy, truth be told.
"You not half bad, Sophie." He grinned. She smiled back, but it gradually disappeared.
"I gotta go now," she said softly, looking down.
"Why? Stay here," he pleaded quietly. "With me."
"I can't. For my safety, for yours, I can't. You know I always come back, ya? I did before, right?" She begged. He didn't look at her. She sat up fully and moved closer to him. She pulled him into an intimate kiss, demanding to be kissed back. He did, as well as pulling her closer to his body. Then he began sucking on her neck, giving her a hickey. She pulled back, surprised.
"A gift." He said. She was speechless, but she moved over to her clothes and put them on. Richie also pulled on some pants. When she was finished, she turned back to Richie. She no longer smelled his terrible odor, or saw the dirt the covered his body. She saw a handsome young boy who she was pulled to. She walked over to him and took his hands.
"Next time I bring you something." She promised. He gave her a surprised look. She cut off all conversation with a kiss. When she pulled back, Bulma the actor was ready.
"Richie, I need more goods." she said. He nodded and grabbed his sweater. Once again, he pulled a handful out and handed it to Bulma. She hid them in her shirt again. And with a final smile, Sophie walked down the steps.
A/N: *Sigh* I really am getting sick of this. Even as I write, the story takes its own direction. This isn't really what I envisioned when I got my inspiration. Oh well. Hopefully, I can cart her off to college soon.
Bulma sat on the couch. Two hours ago, she had gotten home from her father's funeral. It had been a huge ordeal with hundreds and hundreds of people there. Through the whole service, Bulma hadn't shed one tear. She only plotted.
Yaumcha had held her hand through the whole thing. She was strangely glad, for otherwise she would have become too lost in her thinking to realize the flow of time.
At the luncheon, she ate nothing and Yaumcha took her home early, pleading to the guests that she was slightly traumatized and needed to be alone. The guests had shot her looks filled with pity and Teddy had nodded, too choked up to speak. So now, she was back home with Yaumcha.
She had finally come up with her master plan. She would continue to visit Richie, building a stock of the drug until she couldn't possibly take any more. Then, she would stop visiting him. Leave the poor boy heart broken, just as long as she got the goods. With Yaumcha, she would continue her charade until the end of summer. That way, she had two supplies of the drug coming to her. Plus, she just loved the feeling of having power over the simpering fool. When summer was over, she'd just have to break his heart. Or kill him.
She had decided that she wanted to create a new identity in college. No, she'd keep her name, but she'd be known as a pusher. She'd be dangerous, mysterious and unobtainable. She'd make new connections, having an alter ego outside of college.
She was sick of being bossy, spoiled, cute, innocent Bulma. Her father's death had somehow made her realize that. And now, she was going about changing herself, in the easiest and most fun way Bulma knew.
Right now, though, she wanted to see what the drug did. She'd make Yaumcha take it, watching the effect it had on him.
Where was Yaumcha? Oh yes, in the kitchen. Bulma got up and walked over to the kitchen door, sticking her head through and glancing around. She saw Yaumcha by the sink, drinking a glass of water.
Bulma had to admit that he looked extremely handsome. He was wearing a black suit with a midnight blue shirt. His midnight black hair was at a length that gave Yaumcha a bad boy look without looking too disheveled.
"Hi," Bulma said. Yaumcha turned around in surprise.
"Oh, hi!" he said. "Hungry?"
"A little," she admitted. "I never did eat lunch."
"Wanna go out? Or I could make you something." He suggested.
"Or I could make myself a sandwich," she said. "I'm not crippled, ya know."
"Just trying to help," he said, a little surprised and hurt. Bulma sighed and walked over to him. He opened his arms and pulled Bulma against him in a tight embrace. Bulma held him as well, just as tightly. She imagined Richie's skinny body, his lanky arms holding her close. Unconsciously, her grip tightened and her eyes shut of their own accord.
"Lets do it now," she whispered.
"What?" Yaumcha said, confused. Bulma pulled back and looked at his face.
"Now. The drug. You know?"
"Are you sure you want to?" he asked.
"Yes. Is there anything special we need to do to take it?"
"Well, its best if you put it in a drink." Yaumcha said slowly. "Bulma, will you eat something first, please?" she nodded and walked over to the cabinet. She opened it and grabbed two slices of bread. From the fridge, she got mustard, turkey, and cheese. She slapped them on the sandwich and ate it in five huge bites. She got a glass and drank a cup of water. Then she grabbed another glass and took the coke out of the fridge. She poured a cup for her and one for Yaumcha.
"Will this be alright?" she asked. He nodded. Bulma then walked up the stairs and into her bedroom. She heard Yaumcha following her.
"You know, I suppose you're lucky that I brought some with me." Yaumcha said. It didn't really sound like he thought Bulma was lucky. He was probably wishing that he'd never slipped a couple into his pocket. She turned to face him.
"I don't know what you're worried about. It's not like we're going to do this ever again!" she said.
"Well then why are we doing it now?!" he shouted.
"Oh, Yaumcha, you sound so frustrated." Bulma cooed, walking over to him. He watched her with suspicious eyes. She took his sports coat off and tossed it onto the bed. Bulma herself was wearing a modest black dress but she had chosen it because she still looked beautiful in it.
"Can't you just admit that it could be fun?" she whispered. Then she kissed him. Once again, Yaumcha was losing his will to fight.
Maybe he could try it, just this once. He probably wouldn't get addicted. No! He would NOT get addicted! He had more faith in himself. And Bulma really was a little distressed. She needed his love, his help. If this was the help she called for, who was he to ignore?
"Alright," he said with a sigh. "Just this once." Bulma smiled at him. He took one of the packets and opened it, dropping the pill into his glass. He handed one to Bulma, who walked over to where she had set down her glass. She opened it, but she only pretended to drop it in. Instead, she dropped in a bead that she found nearby. Then she turned around to face Yaumcha, glass in hand.
"On the count of three, we'll drink at the same time," he said. Bulma nodded. "One, two, three." They both drank up, although Bulma had to be careful not to swallow down the bead.
"Argh! That burned!" she gasped. She made a mental note never to chug coke. Yaumcha nodded, his face screwed up in pain. Bulma quickly shut her door, propping a chair against it so that it would stay shut. Then she went over to Yaumcha, who had moved to sit on Bulma's bed.
"Help me take my dress off." She whispered to him urgently. He nodded slowly and unzipped Bulma's dress. After she slipped off her shoes, Bulma was left wearing a black lacy bra, a black thong, and black tights. Yaumcha didn't do anything about it, though.
Interesting, Bulma thought.
Then Yaumcha let out a high pitched laugh and fell backwards onto Bulma's bed. She moved to his side and took of his tie. She unbuttoned his shirt and took it off of him. Then she took off his shoes and swung his legs around so that he was lying the right way on Bulma's bed. Then Bulma lay down next to him. She watched him to see what the drug did.
His eyes were unfocused and sweat gleamed off his forehead. He smiled and every now and then he giggled.
Bulma sat up and rolled on top of Yaumcha. He giggled and started babbling.
"The upside-down word! Don't you see it?" he said, giggling. "Oh, the colors! So pretty!" He pointed towards the ceiling. "It says 'plate' upside- down! I see it!" Bulma leaned down and kissed him. Hard. He didn't respond at all.
How fascinating. He's no longer interested in having sex.
For the next hour, Yaumcha was content to stare at the ceiling, every now and then laughing uproariously.
As he came out of his high, though, things became a little difficult.
Yaumcha screwed up his eyes and moaned.
"My head," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Oh, the agony!"
Bulma ran to her bathroom, grabbed two Aleve and a cool washcloth, and returned to her bed. Yaumcha had curled up into the fetal position, moaning.
"Take these," she whispered. "They'll make your headache go away."
He reached out blindly and mumbled for some water. Bulma ran back into the bathroom and grabbed a glass of water. She returned and Yaumcha drank up the water along with the two Aleve. Then Bulma placed the washcloth on his forehead.
A couple of minutes later, he was a little better. Well enough for the wheels to start turning.
"How come you don't have a headache?" he asked, voice muffled by the cloth over his whole face.
"I do," she said hastily. "I'm just not whining about it."
"Bull," he said. "If you felt what I feel, you'd moan a little too."
"Yaumcha, I'm going to make an educated guess and say this drug has a different effect on different people! I'm also going to suggest that you never take it again. It pains me to see you in so much pain!" she said, getting choked up (pretend).
"Do you remember the colors?" Yaumcha murmured. "It was so pretty."
"Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" Bulma responded softly.
"It was like a paradise of colors," he said.
"A dreamer's paradise, maybe." She responded. Then Yaumcha lifted the cloth off his face.
"Why did you kiss me?" he asked. "That was weird. I didn't want you to kiss me."
"Never again?" she said innocently.
"You know what I mean," he said crossly.
"Well, like I said. The drug has different effects on different people. I don't really remember why I kissed you. Maybe I can kiss you know? To make up for before?"
He smiled tiredly, and nodded. She scooted over and straddled Yaumcha once again. She leaned down and kissed him. For a minute, Yaumcha responded, but he soon fell asleep. Bulma sat up again.
Finally! I thought the damn stuff wasn't going to kick in!
Bulma rolled off of him and walked over to her closet. She opened it and grabbed her tiny leather mini skirt, her fishnet stockings and leather straps, her leather boots, and a new skanky shirt.
She needed to see Richie. All this kissing was making her wish for Richie's body close to her. She certainly didn't want to take out her frustrations on Yaumcha, the selfish machine! She needed Richie.
---------------Downtown---------------
Bulma walked through the dark streets. She had almost reached Richie's street. For some reason, she felt as if she was being watched. Every time she turned a corner, there was a new set of eyes.
It never occurred to her that men might be interested in what Bulma (supposedly) had to offer. She was only thinking of Richie.
Soon, she reached his street. It took a little searching, but she could make out his dark silhouette. She slowly walked up to him. The moment he noticed her, Bulma was sure to throw her chest out more and kick her hips farther out.
"Richie?" She asked in her fake accent. She reached him, stopping when there were only centimeters of space between them.
"Sophie," he breathed. "You here."
"Richie, I need you!" she whispered with pain. And she threw her arms around him with unfeigned joy, need, and agony.
"Come up with me," he said into her ear. "We talk up there." With that, Richie led Bulma up the stairs into his dilapidated tiny apartment. He sat on the bed and took Bulma into his lap. This time, unlike when she cuddled with Yaumcha, Bulma relished their closeness.
"Sophie, anythin' wrong?" Richie asked with his growling voice.
"Only if it be wrong that I need you, need to see you." She said.
"I was thinkin' 'bout you," he said. "I'm glad you came."
"When you think 'bout me?" she cooed. She was touched!
"Since you left." He admitted. "I worried, I wouldna known where to find you."
"Maybe I think a little 'bout you, ya?" she said.
"You try goods?" he asked, changing the subject.
"No."
"Why you take them then?" He sounded slightly angered.
Bulma began her acting for the first time since she started talking with Richie.
"Maybe I no use, I sell so I don't gotta stay with a man for money ever again," she said softly. She slipped her hand under his sweater and all his layers and began to stroke his belly. He quivered under her touch.
"No man ever again?" he growled.
"Well, maybe one." She teased. Richie flipped her over and gently set her down. She allowed her eyes to sparkle and pulled of his sweater again.
---------------Later---------------
Bulma felt much better. She knew that she'd be able to spend the night with Richie because she'd but in enough sleeping pills to knock out a chimpanzee. Thus, when they were done screwing around, Bulma moved in to spoon with Richie. He was confused at first.
"You not leavin'?"
"I guess not." She said with a smile. She put her head on one of his arms and his other arm pulled Bulma close.
"Good," he breathed into her hair. "Stay with me."
---------------The Next Morning---------------
Richie awoke first the next morning. He stretched and his close proximity to Bulma woke her up.
"Mornin'." she said, grinning. Richie nodded gruffly. Bulma's eyes popped open. The room had one window and light streamed through.
"I never seen your face in such beauty." She whispered. He was a handsome boy, truth be told.
"You not half bad, Sophie." He grinned. She smiled back, but it gradually disappeared.
"I gotta go now," she said softly, looking down.
"Why? Stay here," he pleaded quietly. "With me."
"I can't. For my safety, for yours, I can't. You know I always come back, ya? I did before, right?" She begged. He didn't look at her. She sat up fully and moved closer to him. She pulled him into an intimate kiss, demanding to be kissed back. He did, as well as pulling her closer to his body. Then he began sucking on her neck, giving her a hickey. She pulled back, surprised.
"A gift." He said. She was speechless, but she moved over to her clothes and put them on. Richie also pulled on some pants. When she was finished, she turned back to Richie. She no longer smelled his terrible odor, or saw the dirt the covered his body. She saw a handsome young boy who she was pulled to. She walked over to him and took his hands.
"Next time I bring you something." She promised. He gave her a surprised look. She cut off all conversation with a kiss. When she pulled back, Bulma the actor was ready.
"Richie, I need more goods." she said. He nodded and grabbed his sweater. Once again, he pulled a handful out and handed it to Bulma. She hid them in her shirt again. And with a final smile, Sophie walked down the steps.
A/N: *Sigh* I really am getting sick of this. Even as I write, the story takes its own direction. This isn't really what I envisioned when I got my inspiration. Oh well. Hopefully, I can cart her off to college soon.