The needle on the floor wasn’t really that dirty. And any dirt in it, belonged to Jade in the first place. It was her dirt. Without giving it much thought, she picked it up and rinsed it under the tap, not bothering to clean the dishes in the sink. Blood, her blood, washed away down the plug hole along with the remains of a Chinese take-away she couldn’t remember ordering or for that matter eating.
Jade didn’t eat much anyway. Her tiny frame was testimony to that. She had always been a slim girl but never this slim, never six stone. She was probably less, it had been a while since she last weighed herself. It was one of the drawbacks of heroin abuse, not eating, along with not remembering.
There was no tea-towel in the flat. Maybe at some point there had been one, but Jade couldn’t remember owning a tea-towel, or ever buying one. She used her tee shirt to dry the syringe before sitting back down on a scruffy red couch.
Her room was sparse, there was nothing in it of value. A television, DVD and stereo system had long been pawned, along with her collection of CDs. She didn’t really miss any of them, except maybe Take That’s Greatest Hits, the first one. Her mother bought her that when she passed six GCSEs three years before.
"You’ll go to University one day, luv,” her mum told her and anyone who would listen. “She’s a bright girl, our Jade.”
The wallpaper in the flat was tired, stained with years of cigarette smoke by previous tenants and worn out at the corners but Jade didn’t care too much for the decor, it was a place to sleep, get her head down. A place to bring punters back to.
“You going to be long in there honey?” shouted the man from behind the bedroom door.
“Not long luv,” replied Jade. “Get yourself ready, I’ll be out in a minute."
Jade lifted her left leg up, bringing her knee to her chin. Her left leg was the better of the two. Although she only had three of her five toes on her left foot, at least she had a left foot. Her right one had been amputated after the gangrene had set in. Then she lost the bottom of her right leg below the knee. She had tried injecting into the stump, but it didn’t work.
The veins on her arms were well and truly out of bounds. Constant abuse had taken its toll, leaving Jade to resort to her legs to get the desired kick. She took off her faux-leather boot and tapped away at one of the three remaining toes.
“Where are your panties at?” The voice from behind the door asked. Jade still couldn’t quite work out his accent, maybe American or Canadian. She had never been that good with accents. Possibly even Australian.
“Top draw luv,” she replied. “Help yourself, I’ll only be a minute. Dirty ones on the floor, under the bed, or in the basket by the window.”
It had been a strange pick-up. An hour earlier she’d been hobbling on the block desperate for a punter, desperate for a fix, when a black cab pulled up. The man who got out seemed different to the usual late night punters she picked up. This guy seemed, well, cleaner. And certainly a lot more confident, probably coked up, Jade thought. Normally it was just your usual dirty mac brigade. Married men just wanting a blow-job in the back seat of their clapped out car for a tenner. Getting off on the thrill of picking up a brass rather than the sexual act itself. Or well-heeled suited and booted city-types, buying a wank on their way home to their sexless wives.
“Call me daddy,” one of the more better off punters asked her earlier that evening as she fumbled in his pants trying to make him hard. “Pretend you’re my step-daughter.” It was a common request. Jade pretended. For the right money she’d pretend to be anyone they wanted. She’d nailed him for £30 and he came in less than five minutes. But tonight’s mush seemed different. He wasn’t interested in a quick wank and a feel of her small tits in the alleyway, this guy wanted the full service.
“I wanna go back to your place and have some fun,” he’d asked, not really taking notice of the fact she was on crutches. She was after all one of only a few whores out that night. It was quiet.
Her first quote of £100 was, in her mind, ambitious. But when he accepted without batting an eyelid, she’d wished she’d have asked for more... she’d get more as the hour went on. As they climbed into a taxi, the mush, Dirk he’d said his name was, outlined his request.
“Under my suit I’m wearing stockings and suspenders.” Dirk told her. She found it hard not to laugh. “And I’d like you to wear this strap-on cock and fuck me up the ass.” He explained matter-of-factly before producing a large plastic dildo from out of his brief case and a tube of KY jelly.
He’d still not mentioned the crutches but Jade thought it necessary to lie to him claiming she had fractured her right foot in a fall the week before. Truth of the matter was there was no right foot and most of her right leg was missing. Her prosthetic one was hidden by the thigh high boots she wore every time she went out on the block. Most of the time she got away with it. No one really noticed that she was an amputee when she was sucking them off and calling them “daddy”.
There was one guy, Keith, a regular who she hadn’t seen for a while but who knew about it and liked it. Keith even visited her in hospital. He liked the nurses. He would rub himself against her stump before ejaculating in his pants and paying her twenty pounds. Keith always brought her flowers. She had a phone number for him but it was dead last time she’d tried it and the phone containing his number was now on a shelf in a pawn shop for three times the price that the fat bastard in the shop had paid her for it.
“Eight quid? Not even enough for a bag of brown.” she’d informed him. Instead she’d bought three rocks of crack cocaine with the money and ticked the rest. Her credit was good with Shane that week - but only for that week.
Eventually after what seemed like an eternity of toe tapping she injected in one of the remaining three. It wasn’t good smack. Either that or she was just far too used to it. But the effects didn’t seem as good as before, they never did. All the times she’d injected or smoked heroin it never felt the same as the first time. But that first time she tried it everything was right - who was she was with, where she was, what she was doing. It just seemed perfect. This wasn’t perfect, tonight wasn’t perfect, and neither was the smack. She lay on the sofa drifting off when she heard the knocking on the door.
“Come on honey, I’m ready in here.” Dirk shouted. For a minute or however long it was that had passed, she’d forgotten about him and slipped away to a warmer, more comfortable place.
“Want some coke honey?”
Jade stood up. She didn’t need asking twice. The plastic cock he’d given her on arrival was around her waist supported by a few adjustable straps. She smiled and thought to herself. “So this is what it’s like to have a cock,” then opened the door to find Dirk wearing fishnet stockings and suspenders lying on her bed masturbating himself and sniffing her worn panties.
“You ready for a fucking?” she asked.
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