Recreational Drug

Category : Fiction. Short Story.
Rating: Adult. Hints at sexual activity.
Warning: Please do not read if you are easily offended.

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This would be the last chance. On the annual office trip. The roofie was my idea. The other two nodded along. “Kharbooja katega to sab mei batega“, I assured them.

The problem was in executing it perfectly. I would be resigning from the job the next day. Vanish without a trace, as they say in those Hitchcock thrillers. I did not want to leave traces. I was sure of that.

Planning had to be perfect. Roofies had to be procured. Enough condoms  to go around. A towel to keep the mess away. Something to tie up her hands in case it came to that. Also a smaller towel that could be rolled up into a ball to clamp her mouth. The latter two wouldn’t really be needed. The roofies would take care of that. But the planning had to be perfect.

No one would have a clue to what happened. She would wake up the next morning badly hungover. But nothing would be amiss. She would be dressed as she was the previous night. Yes there would be a little pain here and there, but that would all be explainable by a drunken night of partying. I had refused the enthusiastic video recording idea by the gay boy. Precisely for such dumbass ideas, I wasn’t quite sure why Gay boy was in this scenario. But Wally vouched for him. And for the fact that Gay boy wasn’t really gay. He just looked gay.

Dumb enthusiasm would take this thing down, I told them time and again. Keep calm. Let me handle this. Do as you are told. Things will be fine if you just do what I tell you to. I needed the two to make sure it worked well. And Wally was the only guy who could be trusted to be interested in decadence. Gay boy came as an attached package. But that was Wally’s problem.

Also, more importantly she was friends with Wally. The getting her drunk part was taken care of.

Would she suspect me? Of what though? I had never talked to her. Yes, the pictures I had clicked of her in the previous outing, some of them at least, had gone around. They were tender. Yes, I was sure she had seen them. But that was a year back. And I had never shown any interest in the time gone by. And there would be nothing to tie me to her. Nothing at all. No traces.

Also, she wasn’t very perceptive to begin with. Quite deliciously ferocious, and self confident yes. But not very perceptive. Also not much aware of her own naked hungry sexuality. No one quite understood my fascination. Except for Wally perhaps. Her curves used to call out to me. They used to make me ache. Even through the pixellated image of her at a corner of the rickety video-conferencing monitor. Every week. Through those long ass boring meetings. Across the bloody country. Watching her sitting with a set of her colleagues. Peering into their computer screens. For hours!

Yes, she was married. Had two kids! But that only made it all the more delicious. How could she not see the effect she had on men around all the time?

More importantly, I wasn’t supposed to get on to the scene until she was out.

Rohypnol was the hero of the piece. Chemical name Flunitrazepam. Marketed as a strong hypnotic and powerful sedative, anticonvulsant, anxiolytic, amnestic, and skeletal muscle relaxant drug. Much better used outside the laboratories. On the girls.

Hah. It tickled me, the idea. Used in dates because of its high potency, strong effects and the ability to cause strong amnesia during its duration of action. Most people woke up feeling confused, and no different than after an alcohol binge. The amnesia is far more pronounced, but most blamed it on the alcohol.

I got the roofies myself. If you knew a snorter, you would know where to source them. It wasn’t difficult. Wally didn’t have an idea. So it was necessary to impress on him just how difficult it was. I got enough to knock out half a dozen bulls. Not quite sure why. I knew the dosage, and yet this hoarding tendency!

I went over the plan painstakingly with both of them. I wasn’t sure how much they imbibed in between helpings of massive amounts of alcohol. So I went over it again. And again. And again. There was to be no biting, no scratching, no hickeys, no slam dunk banging. There had to be no traces left.

It was a pain. They were behaving like a couple of kids invited for their first feel of tit flesh. Gay boy especially was a mess. The no drinking rule on THAT evening was made with an eye on him. Wally would of course have a couple of watered down cocktails. But Gay Boy was going to be sober. I would make sure of that.

The plan gave me confidence. The sheer simplicity of it made me believe that it would work. And the comfort of Wally. Perhaps the only reason why both of us were so deep into this was because of the girl. He shared my craziness for her. And Wally was good with the chicks. This, he told me, was for the kicks.

He would get her away from the rest of them. Get her drunk. Drop her to her room. Have a last drink with her. One for the road. Slip in a roofie. Then give a call to share the spoils. By morning, all three would be gone. Wally would offer an explanation on the phone. Drunken stupor. Dropped you back. Wally would figure that out. Even if he didn’t, it was his problem.

Trusting Wally was not done however. The plan wasn’t his. He was the follower. And that was impressed upon him. Repeatedly. I would get her first.

They had no clue about my disappearance plans. They needn’t know. Anything that went wrong would be their problem. I was covered.

It worked like a charm.

She was tottering by 10 pm. Giggling uncontrollably while Wally supported her on the walk back to her room.

I followed.

There was revelry at a distance, but by now most of them were too drunk to notice.

By the time I entered the room with Gay boy, my heart was making a nervous racket inside my chest. She was passed out on the bed smelling as delicious as ever. Wally was sipping a whisky, and smiling wide.

My heart just wouldn’t slow down. Accepting the drink though, was a very bad idea.

I woke up naked. She was right next to me on the bed. Naked. Mauled. Hurt.  And still passed out. There was a CD kept on the bed. I didn’t need to see it to guess what was on it.

What I couldn’t understand was why my ass was hurting so bad.