Licorice Pipe Novels & Stories

*Vivienne* The metal canister hit the water with a sharp splash. A thick, yellow smoke began to bubble out of the wet leaves at the mouth of the pipe. The smell hit me instantly—sweet, sharp, like burning plastic. My throat closed up automatically. My eyes flared with a stinging, white-hot heat that made the tears pour down my cheeks. "Move!" I choked out, my voice dying in my chest.

He sat down at the bar with me sitting next to him. “They look good. What are they?” The four beers were lined up straight across from a light golden color to one that was nearly tar black. “The black one is a licorice stout. There’s a sour, an IPA, and a peanut butter stout, all imported.” Grabbed each one, I brought them individually up to my nose and inhaled the fine aroma. It was nice to get out. I wished I could spend more time out and about with Alessandra without having to go a city over, and even then there was always the fear in the back of my mind that we’d get caught. The rush that came with sneaking around had worn off quite some time ago. “Good,” I picked up the first one, the l

He says, taking a huge hit he holds it in for a second and grabs Eddies face softly, blowing it out and in his face. Eddie wags his tail more, sniffing the smoke he backs up and sneezes a couple times, walking to Queensrÿche he lays next to him. Addy giggles once more and looks at Manuel, “see, told you!” She grabs another pipe, this one being blue and green, having many twist in it. Loading green crack in the pipe she trades him, “this is green crack.” She smiles, taking a hit of Blue Dream, leaning back she relaxes, her kimono now showing off her Iron Maiden tank top and shorts. Her body was slim and thick in the right spots.

“Be sure to send them my regards. Especially to those who’re stationed on Gaea. What they’re doing to spread the word is truly necessary. Some are even works of art, in my humble opinion.” “They’ll be glad to hear that. I’ll be sure to pass your praise along.” The old man nodded solemnly, then produced an old classic-looking pipe. He shoved purple flower petals into the hole on top, slipped its mouthpiece between his lips, then pressed a button on its side with his thumb. The ceramics inside heated up until the pipe’s oven glowed, which cooked the purple petals to a rich brown. At the same time, the old man inhaled the vapors that were produced, and drew them deep into his lungs.

It’s the shit that was coming down the pipeline that should be giving us angst and fainting spells. At that thought, my watch beeped and I shook out a prescription cigarette out of my case, rolling down the window as I cranked up the engine. I lit the end, took a deep draw, and breathed out. Calm settled through me and I felt the edge of those thoughts ease. I smiled a little. Middle Ground wasn’t the most popular blend my company sold, but it was one of the most potent and useful for my brand of crazy. “It smells a bit like… Buoyant,” Renda said.

Before I could confront him as to his laughter, his hand came down on my shoulder and he squeezed it, using that limb to draw me close to him. His breath smelled like cigar and that fact was solidified when he drew a tobacco pipe from his pocket and lit it, pulling it between his lips almost immediately as he took a puff. His face contorted in sheer bliss as he inhaled and after a few seconds, he exhaled, turning away from me as the smoke billowed in front of his face. He looked at me again, his eyes going over my bare torso and then he smiled.

After a few turns Marcus nodded at me. Lucas came close to me with the pipe. "Let me show you how to do it, Elena." He held the pipe to my lips. His voice was low and calm. "Breathe in slow and deep. Hold it." I obeyed. The smoke was strong and bitter. I breathed it in deep. It burned my throat and lungs. A powerful rush hit my head almost immediately. My whole body felt hot and electric. Lucas smiled at me. "Good girl. Take another one."

◆ MILES ◆ ... "We're cooking something up with Leandro, Lorenzio's brother. He's got a new lab." Ricchar grabbed the wine bottle in front of him. "It's a new one. Not as dangerous as meth or heroin." "Are you kidding?" I wanted to swear at the underlying suggestion. "You're turning into Pappa." Ricchar shrugged nonchalantly at my comment, his lips pouting somewhat. "Leandro's chemists say it's just like taking vitamins, or painkillers. It's more of an opioid. Cheaper than blow. You could easily sell it to your friends."

The guards are there, though well hidden—their attention sharp even as they pretend to bargain for fabrics. A stout woman behind a nearby stall catches my attention, waving me closer. Her table is covered in glass pipes shaped like twisting vines and serpents. “You, pretty one! Try this,” she calls, beckoning me forward. Before I can refuse, she plucks one up, lights a coil of scented herb, and passes me the pipe. When a stranger beside me exhales a puff of silver smoke that smells faintly of blueberries, I almost laugh. “How many mouths has that touched?” I murmur under my breath.