Domination
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Chris Cowdrey Bio/Address
Sammy Grafton stood in the shadows of the ancient church, backed up against a wall where the glare of the streetlights did not reach. His hands trembled as he dropped the last yellow rock into the pipe. Carefully, he peered from his hiding place, scanning the busy street for cops or any crack addicts he owed. Satisfied he was safe, he brought the pipe to his lips. Sammy struck the two wooden matches against the wall and brought the flame to the bowl of the pipe. It began as a slow crackle as the rock began to burn. He inhaled deeply. The crackling intensified as the rock burned brightly. He sucked the smoke sharply into his lungs. Holding it as long as he could. He exhaled a thick gray cloud of rock cocaine. The world became a brilliant place, colors appeared brighter and noises sounded louder. For almost thirty seconds Sammy Grafton felt alive. Then the cravings set in, the Jones. All Sammy could focus on was getting more of those precious amber stones. Scared to step into the street. Knowing he had to, he crept out of his hiding place and walked, hunched over, towards the busy intersection. At twenty years old, Sammy had been through all the introspection he could handle. He no longer dwelt on how weak and helpless his disease had made him; he accepted it. After four years of living on the streets, snatching purses, robbing friends, stealing from family and committing every petty crime imaginable. Sammy Grafton had sunk as low as he possibly could.
Out of the shadows, the world no longer flashed before him. It returned to the gray, threatening existence it always was. It was as much a part of him, as he was of it. He shuffled close to the intersection and watched as three young prostitutes stared hard at him, their eyes alive with the contempt they felt. "Pretty bad when whores look down on you." Sammy thought. He jammed his hands into the pockets of the thin jacket he wore. His fingers searched through the dirt and lint, silently pleading to find some small pieces of crack to ease the shame he felt. He glances across the street to a fast food joint. A small crowd of dealers hung around outside laughing and joking with each other. Knowing their pockets were full of cocaine made Sammy shake with want. He found himself crossing over towards a pack of rock-slingers, as if being sucked in by an incredible force. Reaching the restaurant, the illumination of the large neon signs spotlighted him. He gazed down at his dirty jeans and torn shoes caked in mud. He vaguely remembered a time when he would have been disgusted with himself. Once proud, now indifferent, he stared at his clothes with open-mouthed fascination. His eyes focused on a piece of crud on his shoe. He became convinces it was a piece of crack that must have fallen out of his pipe. Heart pounding he bent down to pick it up. The dirt fell apart between his fingers and he was washed with loss. Straightening up, he faced the eyes of dealers as they inspected him. Their eyes held no laughter or judgment, just curiosity.
"What do you need?" An older dealer asked, face businesslike and impersonal. Sammy knew he shouldn't ask, but felt compelled to. The question held no reward, only rejection.
"I was wondering, if maybe I could have a twenty piece on the cuff?"
"Man get your skinny ass the hell outta here. Do I look like a charitable organization?"
"C'mon man do me this one favor, I'll get it back tonight and I'll deal only with you from now on." The dealer considered it for about a second, then the apathy returned to his eyes.
"Don't be hangin' around here, it's bad for business. Go snatch a purse or somethin', then come back and see me, I'll give you a good deal." The dealer turned and walked back to the other slingers, dismissing Sammy. Sammy did not want to leave, he could literally smell the cocaine on the crowd of men He knew if he hung around they would kick his ass. Reluctantly, he slunk away. As he crossed the street to head to the park where some more dealers milled about, he heard a whistle. Turning his head to the sound, a man in a car waved him over. His first thought was that it had to be a cop. As he neared the car to get a better look, he knew it wasn't. The man's eyes did not hold the suspicious glint that every cop he'd every met had. Instead the man looked like he knew something special, something that only he was aware of. A calm cool gaze emanated from behind his eyes.
The first thing Sammy did when he approached the car was to look for any tell-tale signs that he was a cop, locks missing from the back doors, an antenna that seemed a touch too long. Finding nothing and satisfied that his instincts were intact, he leaned in the passenger side window.
"Were you whistling for me?"
"Yes I was, I was wondering if you could get some crack cocaine?' The man asked with a shy glance that did not seem to fit his eyes.
"You're not a cop are you?"
"No I'm not, but you're the third person that has asked me that tonight. I'm a businessman from out of town, I've heard so much about this crack stuff on the news that I thought I'd give it a try." Sammy hesitated, - a million suspicions flooded his mind. He had heard of things like this happening. Yuppies that wanted a short walk on the wild side and who were willing to pay big money for it. If this is what was going on, he did not want to pass it up.
"Yeah I know where to score some rock. How much do you want?" Sammy inquired with subtle wariness. The man reached into his pocket and came out with a wad of hundred dollar bills. Sammy's eyes widened, he forgot any suspicions he might've had. He swallowed and stared at the cash in the man's hand. If he played this right, he could be high all day.
"I'm not exactly sure of the prices or amounts, how about I give you a hundred and we'll go from there?"
"Yeah a hundred piece is a good start." Sammy smiled back. The thought of ripping the man off occurred to him, but he knew if he did not double deal the man, he would gain trust, and that would keep him smashed all day.
"Where do we have to go to get it?"
"Nowhere, it's right across the street. Hold tight and I'll be right back," sticking out his hand for the cash.
"You're not going to steal my money and run are you? That's already happened to me twice tonight." He peered into Sammy's eyes, making him strangely uneasy.
"No way man, I give you my word. I'll be back in two minutes." The man let go of the cash and Sammy bolted across the street.
Sammy's gait was now one of avid assuredness; he no longer walked slumped shouldered. He stood in front of the crowd of dealers and grinned at the man who turned him down for the front earlier.
"I need a hundred piece." Sammy said to the man directly behind the dealer. The slinger just smiled at the slight and walked away from the transaction.
"Let me see the green." The new dealer said. Sammy flashed the cash in his palm.
He said out of the side of his mouth, "Okay, go down to the washroom and I'll meet you there. Then turned away, as if no longer interested. Sammy moved on steady legs down the stairs to the washroom. A few moments later, the dealer arrived and handed him the rock.
"That's a nice piece and it's bomb. When you come back, if I ain't here, tell somebody up there you're looking for Guns and they'll come get me, okay." Sammy nodded and raced out of the bathroom. Crossing the street to the car, Sammy's new found source of wealth made eye contact with the dealer Sammy had slighted. They smiled at each other as if sealing a deal. Sammy jumped into the car and the Jones hit hard. He wanted to pullout his pipe right there. He did not want to scare the man by acting like too much of a crack-head, so he reluctantly let the cravings take over.
"I got it. Lets go someplace and fire this baby up."
"Where do we go?" The man asked.
"Just drive to an alley or someplace," Sammy stated, his patience vanishing quickly.
"Isn't that dangerous, this doesn't look like a very good neighborhood. I don't want to get arrested or robbed."
"Fuck it man! Where else can we go?"
"I have a hotel room downtown, lets go there." Sammy eyed the man with renewed suspicion. He's probably a queer, Sammy now thought.
"You know, if you're a queer, I don't swing that way."
"Is that what you're worried about? You can relax then, I'm a married man." The man smiled at the thought that he was a homosexual. Like that makes a big difference Sammy told himself.
"Lets go then, I'm starting to get anxious to do this boulder. He said to the stranger.
The man started the car and drove in the direction of the downtown core, which was only about three blocks away.
In the lobby of the hotel, Sammy became keenly aware of his clothing and unkempt appearance. Everyone in the luxury hotel stared at him, but his companion did not seem to notice. If he can handle it, I can, he reassured herself. Stepping out of the elevator, the yearning hit hard. He could not remember a time in his life when he wanted to do a toke so badly. As the stranger opened the door, Sammy stepped through the open threshold. He had his pipe out and ready before he hit the middle of the suite. "Have you done this before?"
"No this is my first time." The man answered with an amused look.
"Well then you had better do a small one first, to make sure." Sammy put the cocaine on the walnut dresser and pushed down on it with his thumb. The yellow rock crumbled into smaller pieces. He put a large chunk in the bowl of the pipe and fired up tow matches. The potency of the toke crashed into his brain as he exhaled. His head felt as if it were in a wind-tunnel and he held the dresser for support. The high slowly subsided and the cravings took over. He glanced down at the rocks remaining on the table, urging him to pick them up. The bathroom door opened and another man entered. Sammy stared at the man as fear pounded his temples. He tried to act confident and assured, but could not.
"What the hells going on here?" He asked in a cracked voice.
"Nothing too bad, my friend. Why don't you go ahead and finish those up." The man with the cash prodded. Sammy was scared and extremely nervous, yet he scooped up the rest of the cocaine and put it in the pipe. The two men eyed him closely; he could feel their enjoyment. When the toke was done and the rush eased, Sammy rushed to the door. He stopped as the new man held up a bag of rock cocaine in front of him. Sammy wasn't certain it was real, and had never seen so much at one time. Somewhere deep inside he knew it was the genuine thing, and he knew he should keep going, but stopped. With a deep, regretful sigh, Sammy turned around.
"What do you guys want?"
"I already told you, nothing too bad. As a matter of fact you may even enjoy it, considering your lifestyle."
"I told you I don't swing that way." Sammy stated, hoping there was some way to get these men to part with some of their dope by reasoning with them.
"Of course you're not queer, neither are we. Well not really. Anyway, you see my associate and me wouldn't have any interest in you, if you were. I told you I was married and so is my friend. A few years ago, I found out that I had the rather interesting fetish. Quite by accident my friend and I found we enjoyed the same type of entertainment. We both enjoy fucking men who do not want to be fucked. The fact that they are heterosexual, yet willing to let me use them, turns me on tremendously. It isn't a sexual thing, more of a domination fetish really. I, and my associate as well, get off on the fact that we can bend a straight man over a chair and drive it into him." The man stopped and looked over at his partner, who stood there smiling. Sam's stomach churned and heaved. He was repulsed by there two men. When the stranger knew his revelation had sunk in, he continued.
"It's a form of rape really, we understand that. But if you choose not to be a part of it, you can walk out the door"' The man's partner shook the bag of cocaine and Sammy turned to glare at him.
"But if you do, you can do all this cocaine and even walk out with some of it." Sammy shook his head, as if snapping out of a reverie.
"Hey pal, fuck you and your twisted partner. I ought to kick both your sick asses and take your blow." Sammy was enraged, and quite seriously headed toward the man with the coke. He stopped when the man produced a small had-gun and pointed it at him.
"If you want to leave then you can leave, but if you want this cocaine there's only one way to get it." The man smiled at Sammy and pointed his chin at the door, swiveled his neck and
then pointed it at the bed, confirming Sammy's' options. Sammy glared at both men, opened the door,
then slammed it shut as he let the suite. He stalked down the hall in a rage. Sammy remembered how good it felt to experience emotions other than guilt and shame. As he neared the elevator, the Jones hit hard and Sammy Grafton fell to the floor. He stayed on his hands and knees for a few moments, the rose. He turned around and walked back down the hallway to the
room he had just left. There was no more rage, no more anger. A single tear glistened at the corner of his eye as he knocked on the door. Standing there, he could feel the devious grins of the two men through the
door.
"Come on in."
Chris Cowdrey a.k.a.
Rooster
Copyright 1998
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Last Update 09/05/09