The Chemist

Chapter 5

April 18th, 8:45 a.m. The Upper West Side, New #York City

This chapter is dedicated to author Sally Mason, who not only has written compelling characters struggling with drug addiction, but helped me edit certain "steamy" sections of the story.

"Oh, baby. Oh, God. Oh, baby, you're so good. So good." Dr. Katelyn Carrie was doing her best to feel the moment, but nothing came of it.

Nothing except lab work. Take the necessary precautions—face mask, hairnet. I have all the chemicals I need. I see the rounded flask, mounted to a ring stand, boiling over a heating mantle. Affixed to the flask is a cold water condenser tube running vertical for a few inches, then curling downward to a collection flask. The solution is dripping in there nicely. Careful with those tongs. Nice and steady. Secure those pincers around the flask. Now just pour the solution into the test tube. Yeah, just the right amount. Now repeat.

They kissed as Jared bore down. He gently brushed his fingers through her lemony hued hair. Kate's blouse, bra, and underwear clumped together on the Berber carpet. His lips, brushing across the hollow of her neck and over the rise of her breasts, sparked a slight tingle within her, but nothing more. His hand caressing the smooth inside of her thigh was warm, knowing and patient.

Now grasp that syringe gingerly. Pull the plunger down, then up. Only halfway now. Empty it into the vial. Repeat.

She was as thrilled to hold him as she would a sopping wet wash cloth. Even as her nipples grew hard against his darting tongue, her mind was elsewhere.

One more to go. Steady. God, it's hot in here. Why is my hand shaking? Oh shit, the fucking tongs can't hold it. It's all over the counter and over my other hand. I'm so fucked! No! Only five seconds left, then I'm history. Where are my gloves?

Her iPhone vibrated from the nightstand. Turning her head sideways, she saw the iPhone standing at attention on its base, next to two spent syringes and a pair of folded jet black horn-rimmed glasses. The caller ID displayed the name 'V Carrie', but she had no intention of answering it.

"Oh, Kate," Jared whispered as his lips undulated gently against her skin.

She stared up past Jared's sweat-dampened hair at the white ceiling, while his fingers massaged her below.

She ignored the recurrent buzz of the iPhone, but it made her convulse. Giving it one last chance, she expressed the stress she felt over the iPhone as a last gasp at an invitation. "Oh, baby, come to me. Come to me," she moaned. "Don't stop, Jared. Oh, yes, baby, yes. Don't stop."

But it was not to be. Her hope for any sort of arousal derailed, she extended her left arm to the nightstand and grabbed the glasses with her bony fingers and put them on. She thought Jared's muscular physique and alluring dimples when he smiled were nothing to sneeze at, but she'd long ago accepted the reality that he was hardly a Don Juan. Yet she had to give him kudos for the heroin and coke he had provided since they had met each other at work not one month ago. It complemented the supply her dealer provided quite nicely, thank you.

Maybe it's about time I take a shower to wash away this indignity. Unable to keep up the charade any longer, she spoke in a hard count. "Jared."

"Hold me, Kate. Don't stop." Still, Jared wasn't getting it, so gentle force was required.

She reached up and pressed her right palm against his chest. He pulled out with reluctance. "Jared, I...just can't." The unbearable urge screamed out within her to scratch away the incessant itch that blazed over every inch of her.