15

The cute whore with the slight, graceful figure and oval face held the dick upright with her hand and lowered herself onto the man’s thin and fleshy shaft. Gap groaned with the sudden jolt of pleasure and felt cloud nine consume him. Her pussy was tight and wet, and he closed his eyes, grasped her moving hips against him, and enjoyed her from top to bottom. Her body was taking him to a place he didn’t want to leave—not too soon anyway.

“Oh yeah, give me that pussy,” he moaned.

She gyrated her naked hips against him, feeling him inside of her, and feeling his hands cup her tits and then smack her ass. He couldn’t stop touching her. She was like gold to him. Her pussy pulsed nonstop around his hard dick, and it felt like his cock was being sucked on by a gulping throat.

“Shit . . . damn . . . oh damn, I’m ’bout to fuckin’ come! Oh shit, oh shit,” he hollered. Then, as quickly as it started, it ended. He came. The duration of their sexual experience was less than a minute.

She smirked and climbed off his soon-to-be limp dick and wiped between her legs with a towel. He was another satisfied customer. She lit a cigarette and inhaled. Gap removed himself from the bed and got dressed. He then left her payment on the dresser near the bed. It was three hundred dollars for her time. He had a knot of cash on him and had plenty more to go around.

She donned a robe and said, “You like it?”

“Yo, ma, your pussy is too good,” he said.

She smiled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

She liked him. He was easy to please. He always came fast between her legs or into her mouth. It didn’t matter how she serviced him, he was a minute man.

Gap finished dressing and tucked the .45 in his waistband. The gun was the testimony to the dangerous life he lived and the drugs he sold. He was an overweight man of average height, black skin, a bald head, and a lazy eye. He wasn’t handsome, but he was a savage on the streets. The projects of Brownsville were his to control and run. He was a man who wasn’t afraid to kill, and he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. He was blunt and fearless. And he was a bully. Gap was a tyrant in his own right.

She walked him to the apartment door, and he praised her pussy once again before his exit. “Keep that good pussy nice and wet for me. I’ll be back.”

“When I’m gonna see you again?” she asked.

“Yo, ma, maybe tomorrow night. I gotta handle some business and shit. You know a nigga moving up on the food chain. I got this new connect and we ’bout to pop off.”

She cared nothing about his business in the streets, only the money he left her after they finished fucking. “Be safe,” she said.

“I’m good. Ain’t nobody fuckin’ wit’ me out there,” he said haughtily. “I’m the fuckin’ man on these streets.”

She closed the door, and Gap turned and walked toward the elevator. So far, it had been a quiet night—good pussy and easy money. He was content, but he wanted more. He walked down the narrow ghetto hallway and stopped at the elevator, pushing the button impatiently. He had to meet up with his crew and handle his business. He glanced around at his surroundings, and everything was quiet and dim. He could smell urine and smirked at the nerve of someone using the bathroom in the hallway. But it was the ghetto for you—nastiness and people not giving a fuck! He pushed the elevator button again and muttered, “Shit is takin’ forever!”

He adjusted the gun in his waistband and glanced around his surroundings again. A man in his position always had to be on-guard.

Finally, he heard the bell chime above, indicating the elevator had stopped on the eighth floor. The doors opened up, and before he stepped inside, he heard a sound. It was faint, and it sounded like the stairwell door had opened and closed, but he saw no one emerge from it. Gap thought it was his nerves getting the best of him.

He stepped into the elevator and pushed for the lobby. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, and the doors weren’t closing fast enough for him. He repeatedly pushed the button for the lobby and was growing more impatient. But before the doors could close, a dark, hooded figure abruptly loomed into Gap’s sight, standing a few feet opposite of him. The man outstretched his arm with a 9mm at the end. Gap was in utter shock and stumbled back against the wall. He desperately tried to remove his pistol to defend himself, but he wasn’t quick enough.

He heard, “Meyer says to shut your fuckin’ mouth!”

The gun discharged—Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak!

The muzzle flash lit up the dimness of the area briefly, and several bullets went into Gap’s head, chest, and throat. He collapsed in the elevator in a pool of blood, dead. His gory frame was a mess for whoever would find him. Someone finally shut his mouth for good.

Luna quickly pivoted and fled the scene. He moved like a shadow in the night. He was unseen and quick. This was his nature, a killer. The shots noisily echoed throughout the narrow hallway and woke up the residents on the eighth floor. But by time the first person came out of their apartment to witness the horror, Luna was in the passenger seat of a black Charger speeding away from the scene.