by Renta
Let’s backtrack a few hours. Once we got to his apartment, York was all over me. I wasn’t trippin’ ‘bout the four-play. I wasn’t even trippin’ when he pulled me close to him, slipped his hands behind me, and cupped my bare ass cheeks. His jeweled hands lifted my skirt so that it sat on top of my plump ass. As he massaged my money maker, he sucked my neck at the same time. While he did his thing I wondered, what he’d do if he knew he was merely getting my pussy wet for another nigga’s dick to slide up in it.
Then the craziest shit entered my mind. How did I end up as a stripper, that set niggas up to get their shit taken? I wasn’t raised like this. I wasn’t raised to be attracted to niggas like Assata. But, I guess you can say my promiscuity derived from my strict upbringing. I grew up in a devoted Catholic home. Strict would be an understatement, really. My father wouldn’t allow me to attend public school. He felt today’s society of teenagers would contaminate his little princess.
My mother, uggh the woman, was brainwashed by him and the Virgin Mary’s way of life. So much so, that every article of clothing I possessed growing up could’ve been the garments of a Monk. Long story short when I was eighteen years of age I left. As soon as, I began attending sorority parties, nightclubs, and rocking the latest fashion? Oh, my God, not to mention my first encounter with a real ‘boss nigga’. That was all she wrote.
Needless to say, when my father heard about my new identity he blew the roof. He and my mother cut me off financially, with hopes of me returning to them on my hands and knees. But, the only place you’ll find me on my hands and knees is at Club Pearlz. As niggas pop bands on this fat ass. Now, back to the current. York released my ass cheeks and found a different part of my body he wanted to explore. The extra tight pink wife beater, I had on did little to conceal my hardened nipples. Not to mention, I was braless.
“Wait, hold up, playboy.” I finally whispered.
I brought his face to mine and peck him softly on the lips. Then I gave him the tongue. Reaching down, I found his erect dick straining against the fabric of his Akoo jeans. I grab it and dragged him over to the burgundy leather sofa.
“Sit,” I demand.
I reached behind my back and unzipped my skirt. As I shimmied it down over my hips. I watched as York’s eyes bore down onto the spot, that was semi-covered by the skirt. Lust, curiosity, and passion it boiled in his round browns as the skirt fell and pooled around my pedicured toes. The pink thong I had on hugged my lower lips so snuggly they imprinted the fabric.
“You like what you see, Daddy?” I purred and like a stupefied dog, he nodded his head. “I got a surprise for you,” I said, as I walked over to my purse and retrieved my phone.
I press down on the number 5 and speed dialed the other piece to the puzzle. As I spoke into the receiver, I watched York’s face turn from a look of lust into a look of concern.
After I ended my call, I smiled at him seductively. “You don’t have any music in this bitch?” I asked as my eyes landed on the surround sound entertainment center.
Ignoring my question, York’s paranoid ass got off the couch and headed in my direction. “Who was that, ma? You on that stick-up shit or what, huh?” His sudden change in demeanor shook me a little. “What—what are you talking about, York? I just told you that—"
‘Bam—bam—bam!’ The knocks at the door stopped me short.
“Go answer the door.” He said, then reached under his shirt and came out with a nickel plated .380. He aggressively pushed me towards the door.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, nigga? Are you, manic depressive or something?” I screamed as I stumbled towards the door, with the crazy nigga right on my heels. As I opened the door, York pushed me out of the way and aimed the .380 at the person standing there.
“Wha—what the fuck?” Mi’Shay said staring down the barrel of the pistol.
A perplexed look crossed, York’s face as his eyes roamed over her 5’9 frame. Then he scrutinized her attire, a long string of pearls hung from her neck. The Burberry trench coat she sported was tied in front, yet the cleavage peeking from underneath made it evident she wasn’t wearing any clothes.
“Damn, ma—my bad, I’m wilding, yo,” he apologized as he lowered the weapon.
As the shock wore off, Mi’Shay’s heart began to beat regularly. A small smile crept onto his lips as she stared at him and pulled the sash loose. As the trench parted, a perfect set of pierced titties and a trimmed cat greeted him.
“You was going to kill all of this good pussy. Before you got the chance to get your dick wet?” Mi’Shay questioned.
“Ma, I was—”
“Shhh,” she silenced him with a finger to his lips. Removing her finger, she used her tongue to trace the outline of his lips.
“Y’all gonna get it poppin’ right there in the breezeway? Or, y’all gonna come in and get this shit poppin’ the right way?” I interrupted from the living room couch.
Mi’Shay pushed him backward into the apartment. Right before she entered behind him, she caught a glimpse of a masked face peeked around the corner.
***
~ Assata~
Just as she said it would be the front door was unlocked. I pushed the door open slowly. Aiming the muzzle through the small opening, I took a quick glance inside. The lights were off in the living room. I glanced behind me and nodded at Fiya with a signal. I let him know he was up next. If we were walking into a trap, and if York was a nigga that stayed on note. Fiya wouldn’t be as missed as one of my main niggas, Gusto or Strange. So, he’d have to be the first one in. Like a trained Navy Seal he slid into the darkness of the apartment.
The rest of us waited for him to give us the signal before we entered. Out of the darkness, a gloved hand appeared in the shape of a ‘P’. Silently, me and the goons ventured passed the point of no return. Since I was the last to enter, I shut the door behind me. My eyes fell upon the floor model big screen, that was encased within a very expensive entertainment center.
A loud, slapping noise, followed by a moan serenaded the air. “Fuck her, yes—yeeesss—ummm—eat this pussy, Shay!” I heard a familiar voice crying out.
A wicked grin formed on my lips this bitch is bossy.
***
~Six~
My juices saturated Shays lips as I began to cum for the third time. The faster York fucked her the more pressure she applied to my clit.
“Oooh, Shay—girlll, I’m— I’m—bout—uhhh, I’m ‘bout to cum—fuck.” I moan as honey poured from my fountain of love.
Shay licked me clean until I became too sensitive to rock in this position any longer. I had to force my face away from her deadly tongue. I turned so I could see how she was taking all the dick this Nigga was putting in her. The pussy must’ve been good because the nigga’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. I could tell he was on the verge of nuttin’ because his strokes became intense.
“Damn, ma, this—fuckkk? This shit is crazy, yo,” he grunted.
“Yasss, Daddy—ooh, fuck me—fuck me, daddy,” Shay purred.
I crawled over to her and took one of her engorged nipples into my warm mouth. As I sucked and gently nibbled on it, I used my thumb and pointer finger to squeeze the other one so that neither one felt neglected.
“Ooh, shit—oh shit, I’m ‘bout to nut,” York screamed as he pulled out of her. He began feverishly jacking his eight and half inches until he bust.
“Y’all enjoying yourselves?” Assata asked.
York reacted with the quickness of a mongoose, as he rolled off the bed and came up with the .380. He screamed aiming the gun in the masked men direction.
Mi’Shay jumped up off the bed. “Strange!” She screamed as York reached out and grabbed her back by her hair.
“Bitch, get back here,” he growled. “Oh, so yo’ name is Strange, huh?” He turned his attention back to Shay. “Where you was going yo’, huh?” He placed the pistol to her temple. “How you know these niggas names, bitch? I’ll tell you how—y’all hoes set
the kid up. Yo, this hoe will catch a hot one if you niggas don’t back the fuck up out of here.” He yelled as spit flew from his mouth.
Then a turn of events that wasn’t part of the original script transpired. Without my consent, piss escaped from me as a gunshot rang out and a pair of lifeless eyes stared at me after the body fell to the floor. What the fuck had I gotten myself into?
***
~Assata~
This bitch ass nigga held this bullshit high-point .380 to Mi’Shay’s head. We simply stared as the pussy made threats like he was the one in control. I noticed that the girl ass nigga was so shaken, he didn’t even notice his heat was still on safety.
“Strange,” Mi’Shay screamed as tears slid down her pretty face.
I glanced at my nigga to see how he was taking this certain turn of events. I noticed him and lil’ one was getting real close lately. Without warning, Strange stepped forward and aimed his Glock .40 at York’s head. The infrared beam landed directly in the center of his thinking cap.
“Nigga, if you think a bitch, means more to me than getting my fam straight you a fool.” Suddenly he changed his target and with precision, his gloved hand squeezed the trigger. A hollow point spat from the silencer, equipped pistol, and found its destination in the middle of Mi’Shay’s forehead. Her soul escaped as her body crumbled to the floor.
York bitched up real quick. Mi’Shay’s blood and brain matter stained his face. “Please, please don’t kill me, yo.” He dropped the bullshit .380 to the floor and threw his hands up to the air.
Gusto rushed over and slapped him across the face with the butt of the .45. Without warning, Fiya vomited all over himself. Me, Gusto, and Strange looked from him to one another.
“Weak ass nigga,” I mumbled.
“Say, man—there’s no need for all the physical. God—the work’s in the closet and the loots stuffed inside the shoe boxes,” York volunteered.
I looked down at the machinery, I held in my gloved hand. I had to laugh, cause I’d brought the MPS instead of the nine because I enjoyed the fear it instilled in niggas. Niggas saw this big head mu’fucka and knew without a shadow of a doubt shit wasn’t sweet.
Without hesitation, Strange moved towards the closed closet. “Say, my G—if you fuckin’ around, I’ma knock yo’ shit back and storm yo’ spot. So, don’t be on no fuck shit. What I’ma find in this closet?” He said as he stared at the closet door.
York got nervous sweat began to dot his flesh. His silence made even my suspicions go up. Sticking his ear to the door Strange listened intently. A strange look formed on his face.
“There’s somebody in there,” he whispered.
I kept my eyes on the boy, York.
“Who’s in there?” Gusto asked.
The hoe ass nigga switched from tuna to a shark in a matter of seconds. “Fuck y’all, niggas! Y’all niggas gonna have to murk me up in here, son. I’m Queens, nigga. Go hard or go home, Duke.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at his antics. This hoe ass nigga done watched State Empire one too many times, but the thing about it is this ain’t Queens and it sho’ ain’t no movie.
Gusto laughed as well. Phew—Phew! The sweet sound of fireballs being hushed by a silencer flooded the room. York crumbled to the floor right next to, Mi’Shay.
“Bitch ass nigga.” We all glance over at the closet. “Whoever’s in this bitch, you better bring yo’ ass out, now,” Strange demanded.
Silenced followed so you know what followed a deadly silence. Three shots penetrated the door—then two more. Something or someone rather crashed to the floor.
“What the fuck, dawg? What you cat’s, into?” Fiya screamed through the moments he wasn’t throwing up.
Then, if that wasn’t bad news whimpering could be heard from the other side of the bed.
“Damn,” I completely forgot about, Six.
I rushed over to where she lied in the fetal position. She looked pale as she mumbled incoherently. I smelled urine, then I heard some bad shit.
“I’m so, so sorry, Mi’Shay. I—oh, God! I didn’t know—I didn’t know, they were killers,” she cried.
***
~Six~
Please, Lord, don’t let them kill me—please. Lord! Mother Mary, I’m sorry for—"
“Man, get the fuck up, Six. You trippin’, ma,” Assata said reaching down to help me up.
Surprising even myself, I began kicking, scratching, and swinging. All I could do to protect myself from what I assumed was coming. I’d seen too much.
Whaap! First, I became paralyzed with fear, secondly, the sting vibrating across my face assured me, I’d just been slapped.
“Bitch get a grip before something bad happens to you,” Assata demanded. He reached down and offered me his hand. “Get up, ma.”
I stared at him, trying to evaluate his intentions, but the ski mask hid his facial expressions and his eyes had no emotion.
“Please, Assata—I promise, I won’t say anything—just don’t kill me please, boo,” I begged as tears rolled from my soul.
“Six, I’m gonna say this one more mu’fuckin’ time—get the fuck up!” The impatience in his voice told me his tolerance level was getting short. “Where yo’ clothes at, ma?”
Disoriented, I gaze at him perplexed, that did it. His eyes darkened, as his hand found my face, but this time he didn’t slap me. He gripped my jaws a little to firmly. “Six, go find yo’ damn clothes, get dressed, and wait for me in the car. If you do anything stupid, like call the cops or leave. I’ll find you, wherever you’re at, and rock you to sleep. Nobody is going to hurt you, ma. Chill the fuck out,” he assured, but the looks Gusto and Strange was giving me spoke volumes.
They didn’t want to let me leave this room alive. I spotted my clothes over in the corner, walked over, and retrieved them. In the same manner, I walked my little scary ass over to Assata.
As I begin to get dressed I looked in Assata’s eyes and said, “I’m good. I’m gonna stand over here by you until you ready to leave.”
He studied me with intense eyes. “You sure?”
I nodded in agreement. The truth was I wasn’t ‘bout to walk pass Gusto’s ass. Just as soon as I did he would’ve shot me in the back of my head. The look he was giving me assured that.
***
~Assata~
After getting what we came for Strange opened the closet just to see if playboy was telling the truth about the other work and loot. Laid down on the floor, with eyes wide open, and blood pouring from the gunshot wounds was a massive Doberman pincher, asleep eternally.
Strange looked back and shrugged his shoulders. “He shouldna barked at me, I’ma dawg, too.”
We all laughed, well, everyone but Six and Fiya. As a matter fact, Fiya sat over in the corner with a sickening look on his face. As Strange rummaged through the closet. I glanced over at my nigga, Gusto who was now eating an apple he found in York’s fridge.
“Where you find this nigga at?” I asked.
He glanced over at Fiya. “Man, bro, the nigga is my lil’ sista’s boyfriend. The sucka always talkin’ that gangsta shit, so I brought him along. Pussy ass nigga,” he remarked.
Strange came out of the closet, carrying a shoe box filled to the brim with money, and about two and a half bricks of powder. “Guess the nigga was telling the truth,” he smiled tossing the work and loot to Gusto to put in the bag with the remainder of our new-found fortune.
Gusto always the extremist came out of the bag with a can of lighter fluid. “Fiya, get yo lil’ bitch ass over here.”
Fiya stood and stumbled over to him fearfully. “Wha—what’s up, Gus?”
Gusto handed him the fuel. “Pour this shit everywhere you can.”
Fiya took the can of fluid with shaky hands as soon as he turned to follow orders. Gusto clobbered him over the head with the butt of his .45. Fiya fell to the floor out for the count. Gusto picked up the lighter fluid and saturated not only the room but Fiya’s sleeping frame. As we made our ex
it black smoke was already flowing from the evidence that would soon be no more.
“Damn, I love it when a good plan comes together! Now, what the fuck am I gonna do with Six’s scary ass?” I mumbled to myself.
***
~Jazzy~
Standing outside Assata’s door, I’d battled with myself for the last fifteen minutes. Maybe I should just walk away! It was too frustrating all the hurt, shame, anger and emotions. It was all just too damn much. They say pressure burst pipes. That’s the thought that raged through my mind, as I collapse where I stood, while tears bled from my eyes like an open wound.
“Why? Why did he try to kill, me—me!” Unconsciously, my hand reached for the door.
I don’t know how long, I sat there losing my mind before I realized the door was wide open. Assata stood before me in all his sexy ass glory. In nothing but a pair of Ralph Lauren boxers that did little to conceal his deliciousness. As I tried to pull myself together our eyes lock. He observed the cuts and bruises from the aftermath of his very own gangsterism’s.
Before I could pull myself to my feet, he rushed over to me, and effortlessly pulled me up. Anger took prestige and boiled over, as I scratched and punched him relentlessly.
“You tried to kill me, you black mu’fucka! I can’t believe—you actually tried to—”
Using much force Assata found my right wrist and held it, until the point of pain. He pulled me into the foyer and closed the door examining me. “You’re hurt! Who did this to you? Fuck you mean, I tried to kill you, Jazz?” He fired off each question with venom spewing from each word.
Fear and confusion surged within me, as I took notice of the monstrous pistol, I didn’t see when he answered the door. Anger stained his eyes as his care and fire overwhelmed me. Even through my emotions, the attraction I held for this man found its way between my legs.
