Free Abuse by Nikki Sex

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 me have the night off. Last time I tried to put the baby to sleep the dog barked, someone started up a mower, or a chain saw—or both—and Briley stayed up another four hours.” He scoffed. “She thinks having me around when she puts him to bed is bad