As I sit on the edge of the firm leather couch, my spine rigid, knees crossed, and ankles together, my hands play with the hem of my skirt. Crushing the polyester fibers between my fingers, I watch the darkness of the hall for him to reappear.
“Let me grab you a water,” he bellows seconds before his face emerges, his hand loosely clenched in front of him as if holding an invisible Easter basket. Except his basket would be filled with pills and baggies rather than eggs and chocolate.
I watch him take three before I ingest the Pereocet. On the low mirror table in front of me are eight white powder lines next to a frosted cup displaying a fan of short straws. With a wave of his open hand he gestures to them, “Please, help yourself. On the house while in the house.” A titter leaks out and he forces a harder laugh.
Leaning forward, I cover one nostril with my index finger while the remaining grasp one of the straws. I switch the entire operation to my left side. I’m starting to get better at this.
As I clean up the rims of my nostrils, he kneels behind me and pushes my hair to the side. He kisses up and down my neck and takes deep whiffs of my perfume. His fingers slide my shirt off over my head and arms. His hand on my jaw turns my head towards his to kiss and we collapse onto his soft, flokati rug.
Lips fondle, hands unbuttoned, and clothing flies playfully through the air to various sides of the spacious loft. The soft and loose woven wool on my stomach tickles and sends a chill through my body. Dealer skillfully pours a couple lines on my ass cheek and snorts them directly sans straws. I look back to see a mile wide grin under a mustache of cocaine. He lays down on his back and we wait for the next song before he taps my foot.
It is time to play. He is my prize, my victim, my worthless piece of shit. I will do whatever I want to do to him.
Starting at the space under his balls, my tongue leaves a moist trail around each testicle like the shape of an infinite symbol on his sack. As my hands spread his thighs apart, exposing his trimmed asshole, the tips of my black nails press into his pale skin. He moans as I dip my tongue inside him. He probably thinks I’m going to be nice today.
I climb his erection, widening and elongating my tongue for maximum contact. At the tip of his penis I wrap my lips around the head and encircle him with sweeps of my tongue. And then I sharply bite down.
Just as he screams, my hand pounds down across his cheek as hard as I can. He whimpers but also tries to hold back a smile.
It’s the pain that gives him pleasure. It’s a line finer than those left on the mirror. I fuck him slow and hard, pinching his nipples and pulling on his balls when he is close to cumming. My arms outstretch to the ceiling, moving like waves down to my hips that crash into his. I am high off powder and power.
“You call that a dick? I’ve felt harder pieces of jello.”
I slap his face hard. He stiffens more and I slap him harder. The pain on my hand is hot and pink. My nipples tinkle in excitement and I pinch one of my own as I do his, clenching my pussy simultaneously.
“If you fucking cum I’ll throw you away like the piece of garbage you are.” I sink down to his level to whisper in his ear. “You’re society’s trash, you druggie fuck.”
I rise to my toes, standing over him. Balancing on one foot I position the other in front of his face. He kisses my big toe and then sucks hard and fast. His hands, tethered by his imagination, remain at his sides.
“You’re a waste of space.”
He stares up at me blankly, helpless as a newborn. I drop to my knees and suck his dick just as hard and fast until I feel him explode in my mouth. I crawl up his body, each hand taking turns dragging fingernails up his torso. My lips press against his and I force his semen back into him. “Swallow it, scum.”
He gulps hard and I help myself to a couple more lines before tapping his foot. Game over.
“Thank you,” he says. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed your drugs.”
We both laugh and gather articles of clothing. I do a couple more lines as I pack up the rest of my belongings. He hands me a “snow doggy bag” at the door and we hug like old friends.
I kiss him. “You may be trash but you’re my trash.”
He feigns a gun with his fingers and points it towards his temple. “Until you take me out.”