Patty nodded to the two men, noticing that Robbins' eyes remained on her, moving slowly up and down her body; she flushed a little, feeling somewhat embarrassed and yet somewhat pleased, too, that he found her so obviously attractive. He was, she decided, quite a handsome man in his own right.
Renault said, “The young lady is, ah, a guest in my house on a regular basis, Miss Barbara Davis.” The lone girl nodded up at them, tossing her rich brown curls carelessly. She had large, finely defined breasts encased in a thin black dress; her legs were bare, without stockings, and the hem of the dress had hiked up to expose most of her full white thighs; she seemed not to notice, or if she did, to care.
Renault went over and sat on the pillow next to Barbara, and then raised his hand to the two friends. “Marcia, come sit next to Frank; and Patty, please sit by Val if you will.”
They obeyed, and Patty smiled at Val as she sat down next to him and crossed her legs in the fashion of the others. She sensed then a certain oddly unexplainable tension in the darkened air, as if all the others even Marcia were waiting for something to… begin. She really couldn't understand it, though; she merely shrugged mentally and sat waiting.
They sat in silence for a long while, perhaps five minutes. The aging head of Rick Renault was bowed and his eyes were closed, as if he were in a deep trance; Patty wondered if he was meditating, remembering Marcia's words. Finally, Renault raised his head and smiled at each of his guests in turn. Then he reached down between his cushion and the one on which sat Barbara Davis and produced a sculptured silver cigarette box. He held it up in both hands for a moment, as if he was offering it for blessing to some unseen deity; then he opened the lid and took a thin brown cylinder from inside, muttering chanting words under his breath that Patty couldn't understand. He passed the box to Barbara after a moment, and she also took a cylinder and passed it on to Frank Harrel, who repeated the ritual. When the box came to Patty, she took one of the rough, grainy items and saw in the gloom that it was a cigarette. She frowned, looking at it, as the box passed back to Renault. Their host returned it between the cushions and produced then a series of small china cups which he passed around, so that each member of the group had one.
Not wanting to sound naive, but at the same time completely puzzled by the ritual of which she was a part, Patty turned to Val Robbins and whispered, "What… is this all about? I mean, I'm not sure I…" She faltered, blushing a little.
Val smiled reassuringly. "Rick is a strange sort of person at times," he answered. "You just have to bear with him."
"What kind of cigarette is this?" Patty asked, and as she did so she knew the answer even before Val told her. She had heard stories, read articles, watched news programs on the subject, heard all the pros and cons, the constant arguments, the vernacular terms: pot, weed, grass, muggle, hash, reefers, Mary Jane, "Marijuana, of course," Val said, somewhat surprised. "You mean you didn't know? Really?"
"Well, I…" Patty was blushing feverishly now, and she was glad of the darkness so that Val and the others were unable to see her. She felt confused, extremely indecisive at that moment; she had never had any desire to try marijuana, drugs of any kind, she had always said when asked her opinion on the subject that such things were probably fine for other people but not for her. Yet, she didn't believe that pot was harmful, that it led to addiction to such things as heroin and cocaine and morphine; that was just old-fashioned nonsense. And the idea of trying the relaxing drug for the first time, experiencing its effects was somehow wickedly exciting. I really shouldn't, she thought, it's against the law, but if I don't I'll seem like such a child to the others.
Renault had produced a silver lighter which matched the cigarette box, and had flicked the wheel. Flame burst into the air-flickering eerily in the darkness, making each of the six faces seem to be grotesquely satanic, as if this little circle was a cult of devil worshippers. Renault lit his muggle with the lighter and then passed it on to Barbara Davis, the flame still burning. Patty watched the girl light her cigarette, pass it on to Frank Harrel; she turned to Val again, having made up her mind to go through with it, after all, marijuana didn't make you unaware of what you were doing, she knew that much about it at least.
She said, "This… this is my first time." Her voice was bold. "You'll have to tell me what to do."
Val's face in the dancing light was surprised. "You really haven't turned on before, have you? You're really not kidding me."
"No, I'm not."
"Well, then, you just take a drag like you would on a regular cigarette," Val explained. "Hold the smoke in your lungs as long as you can, and then let it out. Slowly, very slowly. You drag in slowly, too. That's all there is to it."
Patty nodded, shivering with anticipatory nervousness. Finally, the lighter came to her and she fired the short brown cylinder which she had placed between her lips. She inhaled gently, as Val had instructed; the smoke had an odd but not at all unpleasant taste, although it was very hot curling into her lungs. She held it there bravely as she passed the lighter on to Val, holding it there for the count of ten and then releasing it. She tried a second inhalation, a third and a fourth; the smoke was not quite so hot now, actually very smooth, and she was able to hold it in her lungs for a longer period of time. The sweetish, almost cloying odor of the marijuana seemed to fill the room as each of the six people smoked, and clouds of smoke seemed to hang like a pall above their heads. The room was once again dark as Renault had extinguished the lighter.
Patty took another puff on her muggle, and Val leaned close to her. “How do you feel?" he asked.
"Fine," she said. "But I don't think I'm… turned on, or anything."
Val laughed softly. "Don't worry about that, honey. There's plenty of time." He chuckled again and, suddenly, he placed his hand carelessly on Patty's bare knee, just below the hem of her dress. He kneaded the smooth satiny flesh tenderly with his fingers.
Patty felt a momentary anger at this familiarity, but it passed almost as quickly as it had come. The thin cigarette seemed somehow to have dulled her basic inhibitions; Val's hand felt warm and right on her knee, and to take it away would be to take away the pleasant male touch on her flesh. There wasn't anything wrong with a man and woman being close on an occasion such as this one; in fact, she was really thankful for his attention as she ventured into mental areas heretofore self-forbidden.
Patty finished the cigarette, watching the way Val dropped the narrow remains and the ash into the little cup and then following suit. Almost immediately, Renault produced the cigarette box and the ritual was repeated. As she smoked her second reefer, Patty could feel a great peace take hold of her body, an ultimate relaxing of all her tensions, a complete abating of all the pressures of her world. She felt free and gentle, happy and responsive, and when Val moved closer to her, sliding his hand upward so that his fingertips were resting, caressing, on her soft inner thigh, a scant inch from her panty-covered pubic mound, she made no move to stop him. His touch felt so fine, so good… She leaned against him as though she had known him forever as she inhaled the sweet, pungent smoke, pressing her soft, pliant breast against his arm. He was so nice, she thought through her marijuana haze, such a nice, kind man…
The second marijuana cigarette was nothing but ash now, and moments later the ritual was repeated for a third time. Val's hand was stroking Patty's leg and thigh now, up and down, fingertips almost but not quite touching the soft silken crotchband of her panties. She was aware that her feminine sex juices had begun to flow, moistening the thin material between her legs, and that the first stirrings of sexual arousal were beginning to burn slightly in her stomach. Such a wonderful feeling, the marijuana and the passion comingling… She began to squirm her buttocks down very gently against the pillow as Val's hand teased its way up and down her naked thigh. She drew on her third reefer, and the faces of the others in the room no longer seemed like strangers to her.