From: (Xerp) Subject: 1st Time Copping story (repost) Date: 23 Mar 2000 00:00:00 GMT Newsgroups: alt.drugs.hard Here's a story I posted here on ADH about 18 months ago...since the response to my previous story was so encouraging, I decided to post this for anyone who may have missed it. Enjoy! ================================================ "Live...from New York (or, Copping in the Big City)" by Xerp (I Xol) I should've known better. Never give someone your money and let them out of your sight. I ended up on the fifth floor of some nearly-empty ghetto apartment building, while the peanut-headed little fucker who said he'd cop for me took off like greased lightning the minute I turned by back on him. As I raced down the five flights of stairs, I saw the outer door had already closed. I ran onto the sidewalk and looked up and down the street. Gone. Fuck! The kid must run like a greyhound. I look around. There's a shapely girl walking toward me, wearing a short, skin-tight knit dress. Light-skinned Hispanic chick. Very pretty. She asks, "What's wrong?" "Ah, I just got ripped off...did you see a kid in a red jacket come tearing out of here just now?" "Yeah, he came out, looked scared, then took off down the block. Are you alright?" "Well shit, that figures...son-of-a-bitch!" "What did he take?", she asked. I looked at her for a moment. She looks like a professional girl, so she's probably cool. Sort of like a cuter Rosie Perez. Friendly, concerned face. "I gave him some money to cop some D." "I've got some here...wanna share some?" She smiled, pulled her hand out of her large purse and showed me a couple of postage-stamp sized envelopes containing white powder. "Well, I was hoping to cop a bundle. If you help me out, I'll set you up." "You're not a cop, are you?" "No, I'm not." "Say, 'I'm not a cop'". "Ok, ok, I'm not a cop. I'm not in the DEA. I'm not a member of any law enforcement organization of any kind. If fact, when I see a gangster movie, I root for the bad guys! Good enough for you?" She laughed, "Sure, c'mon wit' me." We started off walking down the block. It was now 1:00 AM. I'd been trying to cop since 4 that afternoon, and was exhaused. We chatted while we walked together. "You know," she said, "you shouldn't give somebody money and let them out of your sight." "I know, I know...but I've been trying to cop for hours, and just wanted to get it over with." "How much did he take?" "I gave him a hundred, plus ten bucks as a tip." Her eyes rolled in astonishment. "A hundred! What you should do is give him ten for a bag, check it out, then give him the rest!" "OK, so I'm a moron, whaddya want from me?" She smiled again. She's got the prettiest smile. "That's alright. You'll see you can trust me." We rounded the corner. She said, "What I'm gonna do, is go into this building. You wait out here, and I'll point you out to him. You look too much like a cop, and I want to make sure he'll sell to us with you here." She went inside for a minute. Then she came out, and a black guy looked around the door at me. He went back in, and she approached me. "C'mon, you can stand in the hall. Give me your money, and so you can trust me I'll leave my purse with you." Her purse had her drugs in it, along with her wallet and all sorts of shit, included about 30 insulin syringes, in packages of ten. I figured she won't split and lose all that stuff, so I agreed. She was in the apartment for about two minutes, then came out with a little smile on her face. She nodded to me and I followed her back onto the street. We walked back the way we came. "I got a bundle. It's the same shit I got before. Not the best stuff, but it's good. I got a friend with an apartment here where we can sample it." "OK, but I'm only having a taste. I have to drive over an hour to get home." I then realized that we were going right back into the same building that I got ripped off in. Had a moment of paranoia, but it dissipated immediately. She was genuine. We went up the stairs. "My friend's on the top floor, but she's evicted, so the door is bolted shut. We got to go up on the roof and climb down the fire escape." "Hey, why not?" It had already been one strange fucking night, why not go for it? We passed the apartment that peanut-head was supposedly trying to cop from, then went up another flight. She knocked on her friend's door. There was a huge bolt and padlock on the door. No response from inside. "She's probably asleep." We went up the last steps onto the roof, out of breath from the climb. Christ, it's pitch-fucking black out here! I blink a couple of times to help my eyes adjust. With my luck, I'll trip over an air vent and tumble over the edge! We get to the fire escape. Shit! It's just a ladder bolted to the side of the building leading down about 15 feet to the catwalk. I can see through the fire escape all the way down to the alley six floors down. It's like I'm hanging out in space! "Don't worry, all you gotta do is hold on!" She started down. I briefly worried that there might be some of her "friends" waiting for us on the roof. A quick struggle, a knockout blow with a pipe, and my body being pitched off the roof . Fuck! Oh, well, you only live once! I crossed my fingers, then carefully climbed down the ladder. She went in through the window, and I followed. It was the bedroom. "Hey Rhonda, you asleep?" she called out. A low moan indicated that whoever was wrapped up in the blanket was definitely alive. The place was a mess, but it wasn't completely shot like a lot of ghetto apartments are. A little housecleaning and the place could almost be livable. We walked back towards the bathroom. At least the place still had electricity and running water. She set her purse on the counter and pulled out a syringe. She belongs to a needle exchange program, so she always has clean works. While she worked, we talked. I was curious about a lot of things. "Don't you worry about going into a nod and then having to contend with that ladder to get home?" The last thing I wanted to do was crawl back up that ladder fucked-up. "Nah, I do a speedball. The coke keeps me awake." She tamped out a little powder from both envelopes into the plunger cap, then she half-filled it with tap water. She pulled the plunger out of the needle, and used it to mix up the stuff. Then she drew up a half-syringe full of the mix. "Don't you use cotton to filter out the stuff?" "Nah, this stuff is clean." Yeah, right. Obviously this chick must be jonesing pretty bad in order to skip that! Her veins were shot, I could see the scars on the backs of her hands, and she was having a problem getting the blood to register in the syringe. She tried her arms a couple of times, then then back of her hand. No go. A couple small dots of blood appeared where she tried to hit. Finally she gave up. "I'm gonna have to shoot in my neck. I'm a little shy, could you not watch?" "Aw, c'mon! I might have to do this someday. Can't I stay here?" "Alright, you can watch." She probably was starting to think that I was some kind of sick fuck. Actually, I just saw the movie "Permanent Midnight" where Jerry Stahl shot up in a neck vein, and wanted to see how realistic that was. Believe me, it was absolutely realistic, with the exception that her hands weren't shaking like the guy in the movie. She stood on the edge of the tub and leaned toward the mirror. She slapped her throat a couple of times to raise the vein. Then the stuck her neck. She didn't draw blood the first time, so she tried again. This time, she did get a little blood, but lost the vein. She started wobbling a bit while standing on the tub. "Want me to steady you?" "Yeah." I reached up and put my hands on her hips. Christ, she's got a tight little body! What an ass on this broad! I am simultaneously turned-on and fascinated by her. She tried a third time. A couple droplets of blood dripped onto the sink. Finally, she scored a clean hit. She injected the speedball, then climbed down from the tub. Her eyes were clear and bright; she was definitely feeling the shot immediately. A serene yet encouraging look crossed her face as she motioned me toward the sink. It was my turn now. I wiped down the edge of the sink, then tapped out about a third of an envelope onto it. I borrowed her needle-exchange ID card and shaped the little pile into a single line. I rolled up a new Andrew Jackson, and snarfed it up. It hit within two minutes, and felt really good. I'm thinking, Great! I didn't get burned for a change! Rosie started dabbing at the blood on the back of her hand, then she got some coverup makeup out of her bag. We chatted some more. "So, are you married?" She asked. "Yeah, but my wife doesn't know about the drugs. This is MY hobby." She smiled. "How old are you?" I asked. "Twenty-five..." she paused, than laughed. "No, I'm thirty-one. I don't want to lie to you." "Actually, I was thinking twenty-five might have been pushing it a bit. But you ARE a very pretty girl." "But I'm starting to see it go. That's why I want to get off this junk soon. I tried rehab in Florida, but they are so fucked up down there. They insist you do things their way, and they don't have anything set up for people who do things differently." "What do you want to do with your life?" "After I clean up, I'd like to help folks who want to quit dope. I'd love to open a rehab center that helps people who don't like the traditional methods." She looked at her face in the mirror. "But for someone who's done so much dope, I still look good, no? I still got a firm body. I hope you don't think I'm being rude, but I want to show you my stomach. It's rock hard." She lifted her dress up. She was wearing black french-cut panties, and no bra. Her breasts were smallish, but perfectly proportioned. And yes, her flat stomach is rock hard. You could bounce a coin off it. By this time that wasn't the only thing in the room that was hard. She lowered her dress. "And I've got muscles, too." She flexed her bicep. "Go ahead, feel that." I did. Yup, it was rock hard too. No excess flab on THIS girl. "A guy used to pay me a hundred bucks just to come on my muscles." We both laughed. "Do you dance?" I asked. "I used to...I'm getting a little too old for it though." "I don't think so...there's lots of places you could dance with that bod. You look great!" She smiled demurely, "Thanks." I was buzzed pretty good by this time, and the prospect of trying to negotiate that ladder up to the roof didn't appeal to me. I noticed that the dead bolt assembly was held in place by two 1/4" bolts. I looked around for a wrench, and found a can opener that I could use. After I asked if I could do it, I removed the two nuts and pulled the door open. The dead bolt crashed loudly to the floor, but since this entire floor was padlocked, nobody would hear. Even if they could, they wouldn't give a shit. I closed the door again. By now if was after 2AM. Rosie was busy fixing herself another shot. No cooking or filtering. Shit, that's scary! She claims that she was just tested for everything and she came up clean. I hope so, she's hot looking. I'd certainly consider giving her a toss in the sack, but without question I'd use a condom. But she's a fun gal. She was very sociable. I gave her forty bucks for helping me cop. She wrote down her number and gave it to me. "Anytime you want to cop, give me a call. If my boyfriend answers, leave a message saying something like 'I got Rosie's money and tell her I'll call back.' Give him the time you'll call, and he'll make sure I'm there for the call. "Shit Rosie, I wish I could hang out and party with you all night. I'm not looking forward to the drive home." "Well baby, next time you're here, you can spend more time." "That'll be fun. I'll give you a call next week, OK? "Fine. If I know you're coming, I'll be able to get you the best shit around". She finished mixing the shot, then went for the neck again. I decided I didn't need to watch again, so I fixed up the deadbolt so when we left if would still be in place. Her friend was still passed out on the bed. At 2:30 it was time to leave. I offered to give her a ride. We walked to the car, feeling good. She held my hand, and kissed me good night. Her dress clung to her hips as she climbed out of the car, then she turned around and said teasingly, "Stop staring at my ass!" We both laughed, and then she disappeared into the night. The drive home was uneventful (listened to the new "Hole" CD...seemed appropriate), and by 4:00 AM was peacefully relaxing by the computer, having just snarfed the rest of the first bag. The whole evening was so interesting that I decided to write it down before I forgot the details. And here it is. (Note: names are changed, and places are omitted for security purposes)