Free Heller's Punishment by J.D. Nixon Page A

Felicia didn’t even spare it a
glance, shrugging off her Elmo jacket and carelessly discarding it
on the floor. The old and fresh scarring of needle tracks showed
purple on her pale inner arms. She headed straight for the bathroom
with her bag. I hoped she was replacing her missing panties. Then I
had a sudden and unsettling thought. God, I hoped she didn’t have
any drugs in her bag. I’d stupidly neglected to inspect it, taking
her word for its contents, despite her father’s repeated warnings
to me not to trust her.
    Fortunately,
Jorge was much more used to dealing with addicts than I was.
    “Felicia,” he
called out stridently. She paused mid-step. “You know what comes
first.” She turned with bad temper and threw her bag on the nearest
bed.
    Jorge took her
bag apart, pulling out every item, examining it carefully, then
placing it into one of two piles. After it was empty, he then
thoroughly scrutinised the bag itself, testing its seams, feeling
around for any hidden compartments, putting the items from the
smallest pile into it, before throwing it near the door. Then he
turned to Felicia herself.
    “Careful,
Jorge. I don’t have any panties on,” she said in a revoltingly
suggestive voice. He cringed for a microsecond, so fast that she
didn’t notice, but I did. I decided then that Jorge was okay by
me.
    “Sorry,
gorgeous. I’m so tempted, you know that. I haven’t had a good screw
for ages, but rules are rules and I’m just the staff. I don’t want
to get fired,” he fobbed her off professionally, without hurting
her feelings or making her feel bad about herself. I liked him even
more then.
    He patted her
down thoroughly, and she shimmied in pretend ecstasy as he quickly
touched around her private parts.
    “You’re so hot,
baby. I want you so bad,” he said mechanically, not even breaking
his concentration as he searched for anything illicit. She was
clean and he smiled at her, giving her permission to visit the
bathroom, before turning his attention to me.
    “No way!” I
protested as he headed in my direction.
    He stared down
at me. “Sorry Tilly. Rules really are rules here and I can’t even
take the slightest chance that she’ll be using while she’s here.
We’ve failed with her twice before, and we’re one of the
best rehab clinics in the country.”
    “Jorge,” I
protested again as he spilled the contents of my bag on the other
bed, deftly sorting them into two piles. I wouldn’t have thought
that I’d packed anything contraband, but apparently he thought
differently, putting my electronic tablet, expensive makeup,
jewellery, hair and skin products to one side. He gave my capsicum
spray an especial eyeball, quickly followed by my little black
dress and high heels.
    “Jorge! All
those too? Really?”
    “Tilly, you’re
not going to need those things here. We provide all your toiletries
and needs and we don’t socialise after hours. There’s no shindigs
or nightly group gatherings here. All our clients are safely locked
away in their rooms, hopefully exhausted, by ten o’clock each
night. We’re trying to break them of their late-night bad
habits.”
    “I want my
stuff back when I leave. Some of those products are very
expensive,” I complained.
    He smiled. “Of
course.” He quickly wrote me out a receipt for everything he’d
confiscated. “I don’t want you to think that I’m using your hair
products for myself.” And I had to laugh then, looking at his
shining bald dome. He paused and looked around to check that
Felicia was still in the bathroom, lowering his voice. “Besides,
she’ll steal anything you have that she can sell. I don’t want you
to lose your stuff. Sorry, love, I really am.”
    I shrugged
philosophically. Once he’d finished with my bag, he commenced the
pat down and I stood there, arms and legs out, enduring the
indignity. He found my mobile phone and put it in my bag with my
other confiscated items.
    “Jorge! I have
to contact my boss every