I stared at the tattered, rolled dollar bill in between my fingers. The silky, white, dusty powder on the tip, and around the tip of my nostril. I wiped the edge of my nose and sniffed deeply, falling back against the couch, tossing the dollar bill to whoever was at my right. Everyone was laughing, quietly, snorting line after line. I wasn’t completely sure where Mike was, but I wasn’t concerned. I was absorbed into my high.

I felt someone’s hand dust around my nose, and then kissing my lips softly. I fell into my boyfriend’s embrace. His long fingers rapidly stroking my hair, and his whispering in my ear erratic and senseless. I kept my eyes close, feeling the supremacy taking over my body. Even the simple touch of my hair made my sexual urges long for Mike.

His body on every inch of mine, filling anything and everything he could. Making me feel whole, complete, and loved dearly. I ran my hand across his lap, hearing his high-energy moans escape his lips. Nothing mattered; no one mattered, except the two of us.

“No,” He whispered, pushing my hand away.
“Mikey,” I whined into his body, straddling his lap.
“No, Brooklyn,” He warned, his grip tightening on my wrist.
“Asshole,” I grumbled, standing up and walking outside, feeling the energy pulsing through my body.

I wasn’t entirely sure where we were, but I didn’t honestly give a fuck. The streetlights seemed unusually bright as I kicked a few small rocks ahead of me. I could hear his long legs sprinting against the pavement, but I didn’t stop. His fingers wrapped around my arm tightly, pulling me around toward him.

“What do you want?” I growled.
“What did you want me to do Brooklyn? Fuck you right there in front of everyone?!”
“Yes! I did!” I shouted.
“I know you have more self-respect than that,” He scoffed.

He was right, I did. Do. Did. Whichever. I shrugged and lit a cigarette, blowing the nicotine into his face. He looked at me angrily, his face slightly red, and his pupils dilated from the blow.

“I love you,” I said softly, admiring my beautiful, 27 year old boyfriend’s face.
“I love you too, but come on. Don’t start that shit in front of everyone.”

I nodded obligingly and carelessly, he was always so worried about making a good impression around his drug friends. I didn’t give a fuck anymore. I just wanted the coke; I didn’t want whoever was attached to it.

“I’m sorry, don’t be mad at me,” I stroked his cheeks.

His stubble felt so amazing against my touch, it felt beautifully painful. I felt my eyes roll back into my head, moans were burning my throat. I could feel Mike’s body heat radiating as I kept running my fingers against his face.

“You just had an orgasm,” He said quietly, shocked.
“You’re so beautiful,” I smiled softly, looking at his face.
“Car. Now.” He growled.

He dragged me to the car, locking the doors, turning the music on very low. I could feel his angry, hungry, excited fingertips underneath my shirt on my hips, roughly pulling me into his lap. I helped him unzip his pants, his excitement was hard to mistake. He had skillfully maneuvered getting my pants off, pulling my underwear to the side. I felt as though I was being deflowered all over again, the feeling of his eagerness, the desire between us both, it was unmistakable. He had reached his climax before I could comprehend a second orgasm, his hand wrapped just tight enough around my neck to show that he was in control. He was groaning loudly, handling me roughly. He looked like an angel as his face tensed up and I smiled as he released into me. He released his anger, his frustration, his desire, everything into me.

We didn’t say anything as we cleaned ourselves up and put our clothes back on. I could see his eyes on my neck as he started the car; it meant he didn’t feel like socializing anymore. He drove toward his apartment, the radio still emitting quiet music and I looked out the window. My high was gone. It was apparent his was too; he was irritable as he smoked a blunt carelessly.

“That make you happy?” He grumbled.
“Get over yourself,” I defended myself, “sorry it’s such a chore to have sex with your girlfriend.”

He shook his head, holding in the THC, trying to get as high as possible. I looked at him, pissed and I could feel the anxiety rise in my chest. I felt trapped in the car as Mike stopped at a red-light. I could feel my throat tightening and I immediately rolled the window down, taking in the fresh air. I could feel Mike’s gaze on me as I tried to take in as much air as humanly possible.

“Anxiety?”
“Y-Yes. I need another line,” I rubbed my face uncomfortably.
“When we get home,” He brought his mouth to mine and exhaled into my mouth.
“Mike, don’t be mad at me,” I said quietly, the peppery taste of the weed flavorful in my mouth.
“I’m not, don’t let the anxiety get the best of you, Brook,” He said quietly.
“Another line, Mikey.”
“When we get home, I’ll get it for you, Brooklyn,” He sounded pained, like he wanted to give me it right then and there.

I maintained my sanity, nearly running into the apartment as the car parked. Mike followed me into his bedroom and wrapped his arms around me tightly; I could feel his heartbeat against the side of my head as I tried to take deep breaths, letting him comfort me. He reached around me, setting up the mirror and lining up for me. He handed me the dollar bill and I took the line into my nasal cavity quickly. He held me as I let the coke take me over, my high returning, I felt unstoppable. I felt on-top and amazing as he held me still.

“Is my queen back?” He whispered, rubbing my throat ever so slightly.
“Yes,” I said almost inaudibly.

His queen was back, and ready to reign.