I need the fucking stuff."He tossed a small plastic bag on the table and picked up the money.I grabbed the bag like it was a life preserver and I was ...n the ocean during a hurricane. "Thank you! Thank you!" I gushed.He didn't move."Go ahead. Get high," he said.Shit. I hadn't counted on him hanging around to make sure I used some of the drug.Then he surprised the crap out of me. He reached behind his back and pulled out a pistol. He held it in front of him twisted to the side like a gang member. He was actually easier to deal with when stoned. I liked him stoned better, though once I turned eighteen, he would get fresh with me at times when high or drunk, in fact.“He never fucked me, though. Not because he didn’t want me, but because I refused to let him into my panties. I didn’t want to be involved, romantically or sexually, with a wife-beating drunk. I was skilled at distracting him until he lost interest, every single time. Ironically, I got with Dirk, anyway. You’re only the third. More

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