Free Abuse: The Complete Trilogy by Nikki Sex

of
a number of small businesses.
    Over the last two
years, since his beloved mother's death, Stan had been supplementing his income
and his love of cocaine, by distributing the product from time to time, as
required. His contact, with whom he met monthly, was a quiet man called
“Skinny.” Skinny was a member of the Banditos Motorcycle club. He was a thick,
stocky guy with a British accent.
    Stan figured he’d
gotten the nickname Skinny as a joke.
    The Huber’s were
a wealthy family and long-term members of the local country club. Stan thought
hanging out at the club was kind of cool because he knew everyone and the food
was excellent. Also, if you buy a wine locker and store your wine there, they
supply a giant spread of snacks that never stopped all night.
    Stan spent a lot
of his free time at the country club, mainly because it served as a great place
to network. While there, he easily and discreetly unloaded cocaine. His purpose
wasn’t to find new customers or accept payments. Stan’s job was simply to
deliver the product to customers who’d purchased in advance.
    While at the
country club, handing over small baggies of white powder wasn’t questioned or
even noticed. Money never changed hands, which was just as well in Stan’s case.
With his financial issues, he might’ve been tempted to steal some. That wouldn’t
have been a wise move. It’d be hazardous to his health for a start.
    The delivery
business was a “no cash” game. It worked like this: a customer would put in an
order for an amount of cocaine and pay on-line in advance. Skinny would text
details to Stan, who’d then deliver. Stan only delivered to rich customers who
lived in his area.
    All in all, the
whole thing worked to everyone’s satisfaction.
    Stan “The Man”
Huber was a rich white man who drove a Mercedes. Consequently, his part in the
cocaine delivery system went unchallenged during the two years he’d
participated. Dallas Police department patrols, never once stopped or
questioned him.
    At least they
didn’t, until one unfortunate evening. It was at that point Stan Huber’s
part-time cocaine distribution job unraveled.
    ~~~
    Stan Huber sat on
the couch with Alex Wilkinson, his best friend since the beginning of high
school. He and Alex had shared lots of coke over the years, and quite a few
secrets, as well.
    A year or so
after Alex’s father died, when the family business had gone through a financial
rough patch, Stan helped Alex work part time delivering coke to make up the
cash deficit. Once he caught up financially, Alex bailed out of the business.
    Tonight the two
friends were taking turns together, inhaling lines of cocaine from a glass
coffee table. Alex was telling Stan some highly embellished tale explaining, “I
was confused… no wait…I was actually concussed.”
    Stan had tears in
his eyes from laughing so hard.
    Alex had a way
with words. That guy could tell a story, making even dull anecdotes sound
hilarious. Because of his easy wit and humor, he’d been popular throughout his
life. He’d also been the reigning class clown back in school.
    They were
sampling a new batch of cocaine. Stan had only just delivered this particular
fine white powder to Alex, who, of course, had already paid in advance. As a
good friend, Alex was more than willing to share.
    Earlier in the
afternoon, Stan had his monthly meeting with Skinny to collect the product he’d
be responsible for delivering. He’d met with four clients at this party already
and had a number of large plastic wrapped squares of cocaine locked in the
trunk of his Mercedes outside.
    The celebration
was raging. “Roar” by Katy Perry blasted throughout his friend Tanner’s house.
It was someone’s birthday. Stan had no idea whose birthday it was, nor did he
care. He was here for business... as well as pleasure.
    “Where’s Sky?”
Stan asked his friend.
    “At home with
Briley,” Alex said. “I should be with her, but she heard about the party and
let