‘You’ve done it right!’ he shouted again, like a football fan in heat. ‘Do the other one, and I’ll prepare some more. I am so happy you came tonight!’
I did the same with the other line, and it was a much more pleasant experience, although my teeth felt somewhat weak. I felt heat rushing into my brain. I was hot, all over my body. I grabbed Stefan’s joint and did a few more puffs. The music got louder and sexier, and after lining up the cocaine, he stood up to dance, stiff dick in the air, while smoking the rest of the weed.
‘Dance with me,’ he said.
I stood and danced next to him. We were hugging, kissing, touching each other’s backs. He put his hand through my hair and then lowered my head so I could suck him off again. Now his cock wasn’t hard anymore, but he could still feel the heat of my tongue.
‘Do another line,’ he said.
I turned to the coffee table and snorted two more.
‘Good boy,’ he said.
I never felt so great. It was the first time in months and months where my brain wasn’t saying anything. Gone were all my issues. Gone were all those doubts and all those thoughts I deemed so dangerous. I thought for a second about the meds Dr Grey prescribed and how little effect they had compared to what I was feeling with Stefan. I felt like an entity was taking over me. My whole body was moving with the music. I could hear every single beat. My heart was pulsing with it. I could feel it through my chest.
‘Fuck me,’ he said all of a sudden. I hadn’t even realised my cock was still hard. I had no feeling. Just a hard cock facing the ceiling. He handed me a condom, and I quickly put it on. I’d usually have trouble putting one on, but not that night.
I slid it right into Stefan. It fit perfectly. I started gentle and then fucked him hard. I had a hunch he wasn’t feeling much of anything either. We managed to do a few more lines throughout the evening, and I even got to do one just above his arse crack. We fucked and we danced and we laughed and we laid down, while the entire room was spinning and lights were getting blurry.
All until Stefan fell asleep, exhausted, with my cum all over his body. But I wasn’t sleepy. I wasn’t tired. I wanted to go out still. It was only ten o’clock, after all.
I took my money off the dresser, put my clothes back on and went out without him realising. It would have been a good idea to go home, but I wanted to dance some more.
I knew Sara was out, so I decided to go see her. She was in Shoreditch, at a club with Alfie and Abigail.
‘Yes, come see us!’ she texted.
I called an Uber and patiently waited to get my dance on with my best friend.
I felt incredible.
It didn’t take long for me to reach the entrance of the club, and I was facing a long queue.
I didn’t have the patience to wait. Luckily, she came out, looking amazing. She was wearing an orange crop top and tight ripped jeans. Her hair was in a high ponytail, with big earrings jangling from her ears.
‘Hello, my angel!’ she shouted while giving me a hug. ‘I am so happy we are out together. You never want to go out!’
She wasn’t wrong. I actively despised clubs. I hated dancing, I hated being around sweaty people and I especially hated straight clubs. But hey, I didn’t feel like myself then, so everything was game.
‘I wanted to see you!’ I shouted. ‘Do I have to wait in the queue?’
‘Oh, fuck that,’ she said while holding my hand. ‘He’s with me, Clinton,’ she said to the bouncer while walking in.
‘One moment,’ he interrupted.
I was shitting myself thinking he was going to say something about the coke I had done, but it was clear it was just in my head. He simply wanted to check my pockets.
Soon after we descended into a dark club, full of smoke and women wearing insanely short dresses, dancing on each other to get the attention of men hosting tables. We had our own table, apparently. Alfie was sitting, drinking a beer with some other male friends, while Abigail was drinking and dancing away.
‘Hi everyone!’ I shouted, without being heard much.
Sara offered me a glass of Crystal and it tasted like heaven. I was dancing like I was in a music video. I felt hot, and the soundwas deafening.
‘What were you up to this evening?’ Sara asked.
‘I was on a date,’ I said, making air quotes.
‘Why the quotation marks?’
‘Oh, it doesn’t matter. It was fun though!’
‘Why didn’t he come with?’
‘I just wanted to have fun with you, that’s all!’
We hugged and danced together. Then I noticed a guy staring at me. This would happen quite often at a straight club. Gays would scout each other for help. I moved onto him and danced with him. I was rubbing myself all over him, like a slutty pop star.
I was having a good time, when he suddenly put his hands inside my pants to look for a cock to grab.
Something got into me and I didn’t appreciate that at all. I pushed him away from me, quite abruptly.
‘What the fuck is your problem?’ he shouted, while pushing me back.
‘Get your hands off me.’
Then Sara got involved.
‘Go somewhere else!’ she shouted at him. He then moved to another part of the dance floor.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked me.
‘Yeah, he just really fucking annoyed me,’ I said, while pulling my sweaty hair back.
‘You sure you’re not ill or something? How much did you drink?’
‘I’m fine, Sara!’ I shouted. Loud enough for the others to hear me.
‘I think you’ve had a tad too much to drink tonight, mate,’ Alfie said, while putting his arm around my neck.
Maybe I was acting like a dick. If Alfie took notice, then I must have been a wreck.
However, I can’t forget Sara’s eyes that evening. The look on her face. She knew something was up.
And then I forgot the rest of the evening. I know I ran to the bathroom to throw up. Then not much else. Did I pass out into the toilet? Did Sara leave without me because I was such a dick?
What in the living fuck was happening to me?
CHAPTER 16
£2455.90
Waking up the next morning was the opposite of fun. I had been sleeping on my side, and I had drooled an embarrassing amount. There was a huge wet patch on my pillow. My hair was on my face, damp, sweaty. I had fallen asleep with my contacts still in—they were stuck to my eyeballs. I looked around. My eyes hurt; everything was blurry. Then I realised I wasn’t in my bed. I was at Sara’s. I was sleeping on her emerald velvet sofa. I was wearing a t-shirt that wasn’t mine. I still had my own jeans on. They probably weren’t able to remove them because of how skinny they were. I wasn’t wearing socks, and I had a puke bucket on the wooden floor, right next to my head. There was a tiny bit of vomit, mostly spit.
I couldn’t remember getting there, or much at all, really. It was the first time, in a very long time, that I couldn’t remember what I did the night before. Then I recalled a few bits. I had seen Stefan, the crazy German who couldn’t act his own age. I had drunk wine and spirits, I had smoked marijuana, and I had done multiple lines of cocaine. I still couldn’t believe I had done that. I managed to live for twenty-nine years without ever doing drugs, and now I had succumbed to a stranger’s peer pressure. That was so dumb. My insides felt like they were burning. My whole body felt like that. Weak, exhausted. Every bit of breeze coming in from the cracked open window felt like a blade running down my spine. I wanted to get up, but every muscle in my body felt like lying down. I was hungry, thirsty, nauseous and on edge. I remembered faintly an altercation at the club. Did I punch someone? Did I act like a tit?