" He said this all with a matter of fact tone like he was telling me the recipe for his mothers fruit cake. Well this all certainly sounded fruity, a...though the little brown balls aren't raisins in this cake. "Mj?" Yeah... you know: green, puff, smokey, sticky, the good shit, hopes and dreams in smokable form."I just shook my head and kept walking. "So I assume you have a customer for this... stuff?" memo to self: brush up on drug slang."Bingo, some one give this man a biscuit!"I looked around. My body quivered. My crotch twitched. He was standing in the center of the room, in front of my bed inspecting all around him. He looked at the walls, the roof, the cheap furniture and my gut-open suitcase lying on the floor next to the queen-size bed with all my clothes spilled all over the room. I stood silly in front of him with a stupefied smile offering the towel. I could hear my heart pumping. The twitching on my crotch grew. He looked at the piece of white clothe in my hand. Have I. More

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