The slim blonde woman tapped a razor against a hand mirror, deftly separating the white powder into neat lines. She leaned down and snorted up a line with a rolled-up $100 bill and leaned back in her chair, letting the cocaine work its magic.
Things started to become clear. Why the hell did she call the Fantastic Four? She hated so-called superheroes. They were always making things difficult for her and her mother. Siouxsie snorted another line.
"Mmmmm, this is the good shit," she moaned. She'd inherited her mother's aptitude for chemistry, but preferred experimenting on aphrodesiacs, especially addictive ones. Right now she was getting a pretty nice buzz off the coke she'd just snorted. Cocaine
was her favorite drug to tinker with, and she had over a dozen different varieties with varying effects. People had started calling her "White Lady" and the name just stuck. She'd even taken to bleaching her hair platinum blonde to play up the name.
The slim woman moaned and began to finger her clit with a perfectly manicured nail. Normally she'd have someone doing it for her, but she was feeling lazy right now. She heard a buzzing sound and groped around beside her chair for her cellphone. Her eyes
focused on the screen and when she saw the name, she giggled.
"Feeling some withdrawl, Mary-Jane?" Siouxsie said. "Maybe you'll learn for next time." Mary-Jane Watson was one of Siouxsie's "clients". She'd met the redheaded supermodel at a party and introduced her to a special blend of hers that made one orgasm feel
like fifty. Having a supermodel in her pocket was fantastic. No authorities questioned the fabulous cover girl when she traveled, carrying suitcases packed with cocaine like a common drug mule. Lately, though, she'd tried to skim a few bags for herself, so
Siouxsie cut her off.
The blonde pressed the vibrating phone to her clit. "Ooooh yeah, that's it, beg for it, you redheaded junkie slut!" She pushed it into her sopping cunt, moaning as it buzzed away. Siouxsie leaned forward and snorted another line, amplifying the rush of
Rogue blinked and put the phone down. "That's weird. Must've been a prank call or somethin'," she drawled. "Oh well."
She felt a bit dizzy for a moment, but dismissed it, and went into the shower. The hot water soothed her skin and filled the bathroom with fog. She hummed as she lathered up the soap and began to wash her powerfully muscled body. Her hands ran over her
ass and hips and found the golden ring that pierced her clit. She briefly toyed with it before moving her hands upward, to the barbells piercing her nipples: one copper, one steel. She twisted the piercings and hissed in pleasure.
She'd had them ever since she'd learned she could absorb the qualities of any matter she touched, as well as the life-force and memories of people. Little did she know, her father was "Crusher" Creel: The Absorbing Man! Rogue rinsed off and stepped out
of the shower, water dripping from the planes of her muscular, tattooed physique.
She patted herself dry with a towel and wiped down the mirror. She had a heavy brow that gave her a dull, primitive appearance, but she wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed anyway. Her brown hair was cropped close, buzzed to a half-inch, except for one
long, wavy lock of white. Her ears were pierced in six places each, and there was a diamond stud in her nose. By far the most important one was an adamantium barbell that pierced her tongue.
She got dressed in her leathers. Normally she'd be going to class, but all that had changed with the 'disappearance' of Professor Xavier some time back. Now the school was a training facility for...