Angela Boddiford had it all – a glorious house, an expensive car, the finest clothes, a fully stocked vintage wine cellar, and a filthy rich husband to pay for it all. Her house was staffed with people to cater to her every whim – a cook, two house cleaners, a pool boy, a gardener and a personal valet who took care of anything that she could possibly dream up. Her house was in the finest area of town, and if she had children, they would have gone to the most exclusive schools in the country. She was the president of the homeowner’s society in her gated neighborhood, the head of the country club women’s auxillary and the chairwoman for more high society fund raising galas than she could remember. Angela was an important person…or so she thought.
If there was one word to describe Angela, it was “bitch”. Angela cared little for anybody except herself. She had been determined to be a rich woman since her childhood days. She fought her way up the ladder, and didn’t care who she had to step on to get there. Two days after her 23rd birthday, she got her wish. She became an official Trophy Wife when she married Olin Boddiford, an 85 year old entertainment industry titan, who was seemingly on his last legs. While Angela professed her love for him to the world outside, the story behind closed doors was entirely different. Olin was not allowed to touch her, or even gaze upon her naked body. Their marriage had never been consummated, as the thought of his decrepit old body on top of hers filled Angela with disgust. She spent their wedding night locked in the bathroom of their luxury hotel suite, crying. This was not to say that she wasn’t having sex, however. Quite the opposite. Angela had taken her pleasure with an unending string of pool boys, golf pros and delivery men, all the while denying her husband what was rightfully his. Angela was in love with one thing, and one thing only – money.
Olin, to his credit, kept up the façade. For him, being seen with this gorgeous piece of arm candy at his side was like a shot of pure adrenaline for his career. Once seen as a washed-up relic of Hollywood’s past, Olin’s company had seen a recent resurgence in activity and investor interest in the wake of his marriage to Angela. In keeping with the underlying belief of Hollywood, appearances are everything. To be seen as virile and active was like writing a blank check. The offers of investment into long written-off projects began to come in, and Olin’s production company once again began to rise in industry importance. This sudden increase in work seemed to have the exact opposite effect on Olin as Angela had intended. She had been sure that he was on the decline, and would not last any longer than five years before he died and left her all of his money. Unfortunately for her, Olin’ resurgence seemed to re-energize him, and he was attacking the newfound activity with the exuberance of a much younger man. So much so, that Angela wondered if he would ever die.
So it was, that now – some 10 years after her marriage – Angela found herself trapped in a mansion she did not own, and married to a man she did not love. With no children to raise, and no real friends to turn to, Angela had little recourse for her anger and disappointment other than the man who was her lifeline. Olin had taken her abuse and scathing comments without retribution or retaliation for a decade now. He knew she hated him, and he knew she was just in it for the money. But he could just not bring himself to cut loose the one thing that brought him success. For him, Angela was more than just a trophy wife, she was his good-luck charm and his fountain of youth. Still, through it all, he was determined to hold her tight and make her love him. Angela had no such plans to wait that long. With 10 years of impatience behind her, she dialed the phone…
“Hello? Is this Carlos?”
“Who wants to know?”
“My name is…well, let’s just say my name is ‘A’…and I understand that you are a man who can perform certain services if needed”
“Who did you hear that from?”
“I have my sources. I also have a rather large check and a need to find someone who can handle the job required to obtain said check”
“What did you have in mind, lady?”
“I need my husband dead by Friday night.”
“Friday? Three days from now? That’s an awful tight schedule. How did you want to make this look? Accident, murder, suicide?”
“Accident for sure – the insurance won’t kick in if it’s a suicide”
“Okay. Meet me at Oscar’s Bar at noon tomorrow, and bring a check…a big one.”
“Oscar’s? Where is that?”
“I can’t go into Compton! I will send one of my people.”
“No way, lady – it’s either you or nothing. I’m not about to have some cop walk in and bust my ass. I’ve got enough troubles.”
Sigh. “Okay. Noon tomorrow. But it’s in and out, and you go do the job.”
“No problem – see you then.”
Carlos hung up the phone and turned to look at the man sitting to his right.
“Well, you were right. She wants you dead. What should we do about it?”
Olin Boddiford just smiled.
The next morning, Angela ate her breakfast in bed, as usual, then had her valet select a suitably “common” outfit for her to wear to her noontime meeting with Carlos. A pair of 300 dollar designer jeans and a silk top were about as common as Angela owned, so it would have to do. She showered, dressed, and walked down the marble staircase to find her husband and kiss him goodbye. For the last time, she thought.
Olin was in the spa with his therapist, working his joints and 95 year-old muscles. His naked body, while still repulsive to his wife, was much more fit than most men who were almost a century old. His curvaceous Puerto Rican therapist, Rita, had been taking care of Olin for years now. She had started as a housekeeper in the days before Angela arrived, but after completing her Physical Therapy training during her off-hours, she had now become Mr. Boddiford’s personal trainer and therapist. As such, she was working his legs extra hard today. Olin was enjoying her ministrations more than usual. As Rita’s hands slid up his thighs during the post-exercise massage, Olin began to feel that stirring in a man that never fades no matter how old, when touched by a woman. As his towel fell away, Rita noticed a stirring in the old man’s ancient package. Surprised by this action, Rita did what any good physical therapist would do, and reached up to massage the newfound area of muscle activity. Olin’s eyes rolled back as he felt her strong, feminine, brown hands encircle his once-proud shaft. It was the first time anyone besides himself had touched it in years. He wondered if he could still achieve an erection. Those thoughts were soon answered when Rita’s hands were replaced by her full red lips. Rita had seen the look of surprise on his face when she touched his cock, and had been overcome with the desire to see the old man happy.
As she sucked on his wrinkled cock, she half expected it to lay there like a dead worm. Her skilled Latin mouth soon had him writhing and grabbing her hair in appreciation. She sucked and sucked as she felt the blood rush to his glans. Rita’s hand moved from the base of his cock down to his balls, and she gently caressed them as she continued to suck the old man’s cock. This was more than Olin had expected, and more than he had felt in years. He began to feel the old familiar boiling sensation in his sack, and he knew the orgasm wasn’t far behind. Rita’s sucking picked up in intensity as she sensed it, too. Olin arched his back and grabbed two handfuls of Rita’s hair as he began to see stars. His world exploded as jet after jet of his white-hot cum shot into Rita’s eager mouth. Rita, being a true professional, didn’t miss a drop.
Angela swung open the door to the spa just in time to see Rita wipe her mouth with the back of her hand, but the thought that Rita was actually wiping off Angela’s husband’s cum never crossed her mind. She was just perturbed that Rita was there at all. Angela hated Rita. Not for any good reason, but mostly because Rita was the only woman on the staff that had bigger tits that Angela. What angered Angela most was that, unlike her own silicone-enhanced rack, Rita’s was 100% natural. For this, Angela had decided that Rita was the worst, the laziest, and the most money-grubbing of any of the household staff, and had begged Olin to fire her for years. For some strange reason, Olin had continually refused to allow her to fire Rita, while he said nothing about the constantly changing cast of maids, butlers, pool boys and gardeners. In the back of her mind, Angela always suspected Rita of having an ulterior motive for the reason she took such good care of Olin, but she had never been able to prove anything. She just didn’t trust the gorgeous, curvaceous Puerto Rican. Angela shot Rita a look of venomous hatred as she leaned over to plant a peck on what she hoped would be her soon-deceased husband’s head.
“Good-bye honey – I’m going to run down to the salon and get my mani-pedi. I should be home in a few hours”. And she kissed him on the forehead – barely noticing the fact that his lap was uncovered by a towel, and his usually wrinkled and ignored cock seemed to be a little more full of life than usual.
Olin, still lost in a post-orgasmic haze, just nodded his assent, then smiled a wry little smile and closed his eyes.
“In five hundred feet, turn left”
The factory-installed GPS in the dashboard of her Bentley told Angela in its prim, proper computer-generated British accent.
“In one point four miles, arrive at address. On left.”
Angela looked around at the neighborhood she was driving through. It was certainly not the gated community in the hills she was used to. There were no Rodeo drives to be seen – no Versace stores, no expensive jewelry boutiques, no haute cuisine cafes on the sidewalks. Instead, she saw only broken windows, dirty sidewalks, brown faces and despair. The people stopped and stared at the Bentley as it rolled past. The only people in this part of town who drove a car like that were the drug lords and pimps. Even they were hard pressed to afford the quarter-million dollars it took to own a Bentley.
“Arriving at location ‘Oscar’s bar’ – on left”
Angela slowed the car and swung into the parking lot of the run down bar she found herself in front of. Her internal alarms were screaming at her not to get out of the car, but the thought of those millions of dollars in a bank account in her name overcame the alarms, and she got out of the rich, luxurious leather interior.
The first thing that hit her was the smell. The smell of old booze, urine and vomit was strong in the parking lot. This was not a place for the head of the Beverly Hills Women’s Republican Convention to be lurking at noon on a Wednesday. The fact that the sun was still up gave her some sense of comfort, as she knew this was not a safe place for her, or any female for that matter, to be when the sun went down. Cautiously, she walked to the door of the wretched bar, and reached for the handle.
As she pulled the door open, the sunlight flooded the dank and the few souls inside cried out in pain and suffering
“Close the fuckin’ door!”
“Jesus Christ – what tha fuck? Shut the door!”
Instantly terrified, Angela quickly pulled the door closed behind her. As she turned towards the bar, she found her path blocked by a large object. An incredibly large object. She looked up, and realized that this object was actually a person. A large black person. Quite possibly the largest black man she had ever laid eyes on. He must have been nearly seven feet tall, and was built like an oversized refrigerator. He looked straight down at her and said,
“Whatchoo want, bitch?”
Angela blanched at being called a bitch, but thought better of telling this mountain of a man exactly how angry she was. Instead, she craned her neck up in the general direction of where his face must have been and said, “I’m here to meet Carlos”.
“Hey – Carlos! This here bitch says she wants to talk to you. What the fuck? You got an appointment with a rich bitch today?” And he laughed.
This infuriated Angela to no end, but she kept her mouth shut. From the back of the bar, she heard a voice say, “Back here, chica…”
Realizing she was outnumbered, and totally out of her element, Angela did not voice her outrage at being called a “Bitch” and a “Chica” in the same conversation. She held her head high, and walked to the back of the dingy barroom, towards the voice she had heard.
In the back of the bar, sitting at a table, was a greasy haired Mexican with gold on his front two teeth. He smiled widely at the out-of-place woman standing before him, extended his arm and said, “Please, chica…sit down with Carlos.”
Angela took a seat on the slimy naugahyde seat next to Carlos. She looked at him and said, “Can you do the job?”
“Not so fast, Chiquita – first you must have drink with me”
Angela had no intention whatsoever of having a drink with this nobody in this dive bar, and wanted nothing more than to leave and get back to her gate-protected home. However, her desire to be socially secure for life was more overpowering than her will to leave, so she slowly nodded her agreement to the offer.
“Das’ a good girl…Jerome – bring us two beers and two shots of Patron!”
The broken-down black man behind the bar shuffled over to the table with a couple of bottles of Budweiser, and two shots of high-end tequila. He placed them in front of Carlos and Angela and stood there, waiting.
“Pay the man, Chica.”
“What?” stammered Angela
“I said, pay the man, bitch. Jerome don’t like it when people don’t pay their tab. Do you, Jerome?” Carlos looked menacingly at Angela, who was looking at Jerome, who was lifting his t-shirt to display the pearl-handled revolver stuck in the waistband of his filthy jeans.
“Twenty-six bucks, white bitch” snarled the barkeeper.
Angela was now totally flustered. She reached into her Gucci purse and found her wallet. She fished out a Platinum Card and handed it to Jerome. “Just put it on this.”
“Don’t take no plastic. Cash only. Can’t you read, bitch?”
Angela had a sudden flash of fear as she looked up at the bar. There, taped above the ancient cash register was a handwritten sign that said, “No Checks, No Cards, No Tabs – CASH ONLY!”. Angela knew she was in trouble. She never carried cash. In her world, nobody used cash. The more exclusive the card you had, the better service you got. Gold cards were laughed at, as Platinum and Diamond cards were the norm. But nobody but the lowest of the commoners used cash. This was quickly becoming an issue for Angela, as she sensed the mood in the room turning.
“I…I…I don’t have any cash.”, stammered Angela , “just take the drinks back and we wont’ drink them.”
“Too late” said Jerome, and Angela looked over just in time to see Carlos slam his shot and chug his beer. He set down the empty bottle and smiled.
“Twenty-six bucks, bitch…CASH!”
Angela was now terrified. She knew she was in deep trouble. Her mind began to race a hundred miles an hour, trying to figure out some way out of the mess she now found herself in. She looked over at Carlos, in hopes that perhaps he would bail her out of the jam. Carlos just smiled, then produced an oversized knife from somewhere under the table, and began to clean his fingernails with the tip.
“I…I…I…” Angela stammered again. “I guess I can go find an ATM and come back with the money”
“Ain’t no ATM’s in this neighborhood , bitch. Don’t you know where you is? You is in Compton. Besides – your white ass walks out of this bar, I’ll never see you again, and then I’m out twenty-six bucks. No, you is payin’ NOW. Cash.”
Panic was setting in. All she had wanted to do was to come down here, hand a Mexican a check for a hundred thousand dollars to kill her husband, and then get back in her car and drive home. It was a simple plan. A plan that was being completely ruined by factors that had spiraled completely out of her control. Carlos just smiled…always a smile, as Jerome began to get more and more angry.
“Look bitch, where is my money? You either pays me now, or I am gonna take twenty-six dollars out of your rich ASS!”
The threat caught Angela right between the eyes. What did he mean “take it out of my ass”? What was he going to do? Am I in serious danger here? Her hand began to slowly reach for her purse to find her cell phone to call for help, when Jerome saw her move. With speed and agility that belied his broken-down body, Jerome reached across the booth and grabbed the purse.
“Hey – give that back! That’s mine!”
“You mean it’s yours once I take my twenty-six dollars out of it, don’t you, Bitch? T-Bone – come keep an eye on this white bitch while I find what she owes us.”
The mountainous man from the front door thundered to the back of the bar and loomed over Angela as Jerome emptied her purse on the bar. T-Bone began to look at Angela with a hunger in his eyes that could only be described as “primal”. It was as if he hadn’t eaten in months, and Angela was the first meat that had walked into his reach. He looked her up and down – from her perfectly done hair to her silicone breasts, to her perfectly manicured toes, and licked his lips. Angela saw it, and more importantly, felt it. She knew she would be nothing but a snack for this giant man if he were allowed to have his way. She looked nervously at Carlos, still hoping for him to put an end to this terror, but he just sat there and smiled.
Jerome began to sift through the contents of the purse. “Credit cards…Jesus, bitch – you’ve got twenty different cards in here. I bet you’s a rich bitch, ain’t you?”
“That’s none of your fucking business, you asshole!” The words escaped her mouth before Angela had realized what she was saying. A crushing, white-hot flash was the last thing she remembered, as T-Bone’s ham-sized left fist made contact with the side of her head.
Angela slowly opened her eyes and tried to focus on the world around here. Where was she? What was she doing there? Why did her head feel like it had been crushed in a vice? What was she laying on? She slowly reached out and touched the soft fabric under her face and tried to place it. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before. What was this? Where WAS she? From above the fog, she heard an eerily familiar voice –
“Is dat bitch awake yet? Jesus, T-Bone, you gots to not hit dem bitches dat hard!” followed by laughter.
The memory of where she was, and more importantly, the predicament she was in, began to dawn on Angela. She was still in Oscar’s bar, and she was still in danger, but she was now laying down on something. A quick check with her hands let her know that her clothes were still there, and a glance down told her that someone had laid her on the pool table at the back of the room. She quickly sat up, narrowly missing the low-hanging light over the table, and looked over at the table she had been sitting at. Carlos was still sitting there, smiling as usual.
“What the fuck happened to me, Carlos? What did you and your asshole friends do to me?”
Carlos just shook his head at her, as she felt an enormous hand wrap around her throat and begin to lift her off the table.
“T-Bone! No! don’t kill that stupid bitch! She just ain’t smart enough to realize how much trouble she in. Set her down”.
T-Bone grunted at Jerome, and set Angela back on the pool table, unwrapping his mighty hand from her throat. As the welcome rush of cool air flooded her lungs, Angela gasped. “I..I..I’m sorry”. She muttered.
“I would sugess’ that choo be a bit, um, nicer, to my friends” smiled Carlos. “They can be very, very unpleasant if you rub them the wrong way.”
“I’d likes to rub dis bitch da wrong way” boomed a voice from above her. Angela looked up to see T-Bone smiling down at her, and licking his lips. This confirmed what she already knew – T-Bone would destroy her if given the chance. Angela was terrified of this behemoth, and knew that he could sense her fear.
This was all going horribly wrong. Angela could sense with every fiber of her being that she was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble. What was supposed to be a quick and easy transaction had gone completely off the tracks. Her contact, Carlos, was just sitting there, smiling, while an enormous black man stood over her, threatening her with every move she made. Meanwhile, at the bar, the bartender, Jerome was still rifling through her purse. He had found her credit cards, her car keys, her gate security cards, her garage door opener, her driver’s license, her social security card…in essence, he had complete control over every facet of her life. To make matters worse, Angela carried a small black notebook with her that listed all of her passwords, codes and security answers for access into every part of her life. She was always forgetting these, so she wrote them down and carried them with her. She was realizing that what her husband, Olin, had always said about that being a bad idea, was completely correct.
“Well, looks what we have here…”
Angela looked over at the bar, to see Jerome holding up her a small silver vibrator. “Oh my God!” she thought, “He found my bullet!”. She was completely embarrassed at this discovery of one of her most private belongings, but now Jerome was smiling like Carlos.
“So dis little bitch likes to play, huh?” said a beaming Jerome. “Maybe there is another way we can gets our money out of this whore…”
Angela hated being called a whore even more than a bitch, and suddenly realized that things had taken a very unsavory turn. “What? Are you crazy? You better not touch me, or I will scream rape so loud the whole NEIGHBORHOOD will hear me?”
“Not In this neighborhood, chica. You yell rape, and it’s like chum in the water. These big black sharks will come a-runnin’, if there hear there’s some fresh white pussy to be had!” Carlos smiled at Angela as he said it, but the look in his eyes let Angela know he was far from kidding.
“Look – I don’t want any trouble. I swear I’ll go get your money and come back. Hell, I’ll get you more than twenty-six dollars. I’ll get you a thousand. Yeah – I’ll bring you a thousand dollars, if you’ll just give me back my purse. Please!”
At this, Jerome took on a look of almost pity for Angela. “A thousand bucks, you say? A thousand bucks EACH?” he added, nodding at T-Bone and Carlos.
“Yes. Yes. Anything!” sniffled the terrified blonde.
“T-Bone – you go wit dis bitch, and take her to her bank. Make sure she gets the money, and then bring her ass back here!” Jerome ordered. He threw the things back in her bag, but carefully slipped something from the purse under the bar, undetected by Angela. He tossed the bag and the car keys towards Angela and motioned toward the door. “Get the fuck out of here. Be back in an hour, or you is in SERIOUS trouble. Understands me, bitch?”
Angela mumbled a hasty, “yes”, grabbed her purse and keys and headed for the door with T-Bone in close pursuit.
She put on her best brave face, turned up her nose, turned on her heel and walked for the door. T-Bone fell into step behind her as they opened the door and walked to the parking lot. She pressed the unlock button on her keyfob, and she climbed in the driver’s seat of the luxury car. T-Bone crammed himself into the passenger seat and looked over at Angela.
“Don’t try nothin’ funny, bitch. I could snap your neck in a second.”
She knew he could, so she didn’t question what she would do. She typed the name of her bank into the GPS and found the closest branch, and set off to get there as quickly as possible. As she drove up the interstate, her mind was reeling.
What the FUCK am I doing? How am I going to get out of this? Is this really worth it? The last thought was rendered absolutely moot when she realized that getting out of this one sticky jam would be her ticket to a lifetime of wealth beyond her wildest imagination. She pressed the accelerator even harder, and the Bentley’s V10 screamed to life.
Within 30 minutes, Angela and T-Bone had reached the closest branch of her bank. T-Bone waited in the car while Angela ran in and made a $3000 withdrawal. The cashier, who normally would have questioned the transaction, saw the name on the account, and the staggering number of zeros at the end of the balance, and handed the money over without question. Angela stuffed the cash into her purse, and walked briskly out the door and back to the waiting car. A quick glance at the clock on the dashboard told Angela she had twenty minutes to get back to the bar. She hit “last” on her GPS and tore out of the parking lot, and back onto the Interstate.
A half-mile before her exit, she heard T-Bone say “Oh, Shit!”. She looked into the rearview mirror and saw flashing blue lights. “Dammit!” she screamed. “Not now…please, not now…”.
Instead of pulling over, however, Angela mashed down the accelerator and whipped off the exit before her. The cop, true to his training, kept pace with her, and slid down the exit as well. He followed her down the street towards Oscar’s. Angela’s mind was racing now – she was going to get a ticket for speeding and eluding arrest, but hopefully the cop was calling in backup, and she could get Jerome and Carlos and T-Bone arrested for harassing her. T-Bone. She hadn’t thought about him. She looked to her right and saw T-Bone with his jaw clenched, and his eyes wide. “Bitch – you better not stop. You better drive this muthafucker!! I got warrants out for me. If they catch me – I’m on parole – I’ll go back to prison. Speed this muthafucker up, NOW!!!”.
Angela listened. She saw the speedometer hit well over 100, as she tore down the road towards Oscar’s. The whole neighborhood must have come out of their houses to watch the police chase down their street. It’s not often you see a tiny white girl in a Bentley with an enormous black man riding shotgun, and running from police past your front yard. She finally spied Oscar’s dilapidated sign, and slid sideways into the parking lot. She flung the door open and jumped out, leaving the keys in the ignition, daring the cop to chase her. He obliged. Angela threw open the door of the bar, and sunlight once again flooded the dark interior. Jerome and Carlos were still sitting there, smiling.
“You gots my money, bitch?” said a haughty Jerome
“Yeah, I got your money….but look what else I brought! Officer – arrest that man!!” Angela looked behind her to see…nobody. She had been sure that the cop had chased her into the bar, and was just certain he would arrest these awful men. Instead, there was nothing but emptiness.
“Who the fuck you talkin’ to, bitch? Get over here and give me my fuckin’ money” snarled Jerome.
Completely confused, Angela walked toward the back of the bar, clutching her purse. Where the HELL had the cop gone? Why hadn’t he followed her in? Where was T-Bone? Questions answered when the blinding light of the sun once again flooded the dark room.
It took a couple of seconds for everyone’s eyes to adjust from the bright sunlight to the shadows of the barroom. But when they did, Angela got yet another shock in an afternoon full of them. When she looked towards the door, she saw T-Bone standing with the police officer, and they were…laughing. Laughing? What the HELL?
“Is this the stupid cunt?” asked the officer
“Yeah – that’s her. Dumb bitch thinks she’s gonna get away with it, too!”
Angela was dumb-struck. What was this? Could it be that T-Bone and the cop were friends? And had a police officer just called her a cunt? What was going on?
T-Bone continued, “Hey Jerome, Carlos – this here’s my cousin Reggie. I forgot he became a cop a couple years ago. He grew up here in the hood with me, and now he’s a Goddamn cop! Can you believe this shit?”
“Easy with the Goddamn shit, T-Bone”, said the police officer “it ain’t nice to be takin’ the Lord’s name in vain!”.
T-Bone tipped back his head and laughed louder than ever. “Sheee-it, Muthafucker! You is the most profane muthafucker I’ve ever met!”
“You got that right, motherfucker! Now – what in the hell is goin’ on here?” Officer Reggie laughed.
“Well, these two guys are trying to make me pa….” Angela began
“Hold on there, whitebread. I wasn’t askin’ you. I was askin’ the brother behind the bar. You’ll get your chance. Now, what’s goin’ on, motherfucker?” Reggie offered a hand to Jerome, who gave him the obligatory fist bump.
“Well…officer…” Jerome said with a wink, “this bitch comes into my bar and orders some drinks. She lets her boyfriend here drink them, and they refuses to pay for them. I was about to call the cops myself”
“Hang on!” screamed Angela, “That Mexican motherfucker is not my boyfriend, and I didn’t order them. HE did. I didn’t do anything wrong!”
The officer turned to Carlos, “So, Mexican Motherfucker, are you her boyfriend? You taggin’ this sweet little white ass?”
Carlos just laughed. “I ain’t no damn Mexican – I’m Puerto Rican. And no, I ain’t taggin’ that ass. Not yet, anyway!”
Reggie turned back to Angela, “He says he’s not your boyfriend. So then what are you doing down here with him?”
Angela looked at Carlos for an answer. Carlos just smiled. “I…I..I” she began “I came down here to ,um, to…to ask a favor of him.”
“What kind of favor” asked officer Reggie
Angela could sense this conversation slipping away fast. She was one wrong answer from being in some serious trouble, and she knew it.
“ummm…some household trouble” answered Angela
“Househould trouble, eh? What kind of trouble? This don’t look like no place to find an exterminator to me.”
“Well, I uh…”
Suddenly, from behind them, T-Bone spoke up “Just tell him bitch. You came down here to hire Carlos to kill your rich old man. Didn’t you, bitch?”
Angela’s world was crashing in on her. The officer looked at her and said “Is this true”
“No! No! No, I just needed him to, um, resurface my driveway!” she lied.
“Resurface your driveway? What are you doing in Compton to find a driveway resurfacer? You Beverly Hills type have your own people up there. I’ve NEVER seen one of you down here looking for that, and I’ve lived here all my life”
She knew she was caught. Her only hope was to bluff her way out of it. “Well, I had thought about it, but then decided I didn’t want to go through with it, so I changed my mind. I didn’t ask anybody to do anything”
The cop turned to Carlos. “Is that true, homes? Did she ask you to off her old man?”
Carlos smiled at Angela, then turned to Officer Reggie and said, “fuck yeah she did. Bitch even gave me a check!” Carlos reached into his pocket and pulled out a check written to him from Angela’s account, in Angela’s handwriting, for the amount of $100,000. Carlos handed it to the officer, who took it, read it, and looked at Angela.
Angela’s head was spinning. Where did that check come from? She had it stashed inside her…inside her purse. DAMN! That damn Jerome must have found it when he was going through it, looking for cash. Shit. How could she have been so stupid as to write a check? How would she get out of this? She looked at the officer…”It’s no crime to write a check , is it?”
“You stupid bitch” he replied, as he handed the check back to Carlos, “Solicitation of Murder is a capital offense. You can get the death penalty for that. You are going down, you rich cunt.”
His response finally broke through the tough exterior shell that Angela had been building up all these years. She began to sob uncontrollably. “No! No! I can’t go to jail! They’ll rape me! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t! I’ll do anything to avoid going to jail. Anything at all. Please! Please!”
The four men in the room looked at each other, as if this were the secret password they had been waiting for. “Anything?” they asked in unison.
She suddenly realized her mistake, but it was too late. Rather than allow herself to be tried before a judge and jury made up of her peers, Angela was about to meet her fate in the back of a seedy bar in Compton. Condemned by a jury of four, and sentenced to do whatever evil it may be that they deemed necessary. Angela knew that her life, or her life as she had known it, was over, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.
Angela collapsed back into the booth where she and Carlos had first met what seemed like days ago. In reality, it had been scarcely more than two hours since she had first walked into the bar. She buried her face in her arms and began to cry. She cried harder than she could ever remember crying. All of the wrongs she had done, and evil plans she had hatched came rolling out as she sobbed and sobbed. The four men in the room reflected no mercy in their faces, but instead, gathered at the bar to discuss what to do next.
T-Bone was first to speak. “I think we oughtsta take her to the back room and fuck the shit outta her. Then make her drive home naked, full of spunk. That way, she can explain to her old ass husband why she’s a whore. Trust me, after I gets done with them, ain’t no old white cock ever gonna touch the sides of that pussy again”. He laughed fiendishly
Jerome chimed in “That’s a good idea, T-bone, but I think this bitch needs a little more than just a T-Bone pussy wrecking. I think this uptown bitch needs a whole gang of motherfuckers to come down here and pull a train on her uptight ass. What do you think, Carlos?”
Carlos looked at them and said, “I don’t care. The old man just told me to make sure that the bitch got what was coming to her. Once she was completely broken, he wanted to know, then he said he would come collect the pieces. Kind of a mean old fucker, really”. Then he smiled. But even bigger than before.
Officer Reggie told them, “look, I don’t care what you do to this white piece of shit, but just don’t do anything I’m gonna get called down here for later. I’ve got to be able to deny the fact that I know anything about this. I’ll keep the rest of the guys out of here too, but on one condition.”
“What’s that, Reggie?”
“I get to hit that uptight ass first!” and he laughed.
Angela had not heard the conversation, just the laughter, and she wondered what they were up to. Her mascara was running down her face, and her red eyes were still blurry. She looked up to see the four men walk towards her. Carlos offered her his hand and said, “Come here, Chica…”. She thought she heard kindness in his voice, so Angela gave her his hand. Carlos gently helped her up. He pulled her close, wrapped his arms around her and said “Now is the time you pay. Now is the time, you PUTA!”
With that, Carlos shoved Angela toward the pool table. It hit her mid-thigh, and she bent forward over the table. As she hit the green felt, she felt hands on her expensive jeans. They tugged at them, and as they were tight, and not easily removed, they didn’t budge. The next thing she felt was the blade of Carlos’ knife against her back. It traced down her spine, to the waistband of her jeans. She felt the knife slice into the denim, and begin to cut it away. She winced as she felt the pressure of the denim let go, and as she felt a $300 pair of jeans being cut in half. As her pants were being cut away, she felt a second pair of hands on her back. There was no mistaking who these huge paws belonged to. T-Bone was trying to get at her shirt, and doing a rather good job of it. Soon, she felt the fabric give as he grabbed the silk and pulled it off her body. Buttons flew across the bar as the silk let go and her large breasts, still encased in one of her favorite Victoria’s Secret bras popped back to their correct position. Her pants were soon completely off, and she stood there, spread eagled against the pool table , in nothing but a sheer blue bra and thong and a pair of heels.
The sexual temperature of the room was increasing exponentially, as the four men caught sight of Angela in her sexiest underthings. As much of a bitch as she was, Angela was extremely careful about what she ate and how much she exercised. Any spare ounce of fat became the subject of intense ridicule at the luncheons the other ladies groups threw in the Hills, and she was acutely aware of it. She had done all she could, though diet, exercise and surgery, to keep her body tight and tone. This fact did not go unappreciated by T-Bone, Jerome, Carlos and Reggie. They all caught a breath as they gazed at Angela’s incredible body splayed over the pool table. Reggie broke the momentary silence. “I’m first, motherfuckers. That ass is MINE!” he shouted, and he reached for the waistband of her thong. Clamping her eyes shut tightly, Angela braced herself for what she was sure would be a painful experience. She had never allowed ANYONE to touch her still-virgin ass, and had definitely not intended to lose her ass-cherry to a crooked cop on the pool table of a Compton bar! None of this mattered a bit to Reggie, as he pulled down her thong and unzipped his uniform trousers to fish out his cock.
Reggie had a nice, fat cock. 8 inches, and as big around as a man’s wrist, Reggie had never found a woman who complained about his size. He had found his status as a police officer had done wonders for his ability to attract pussy, as there were so many women, like this rich little white bitch here, who would do anything to avoid a ticket or jail time. He sometimes busted hot chicks just for the blow job. Yeah, Reggie dug being a cop. All of this power had made Reggie’s cock rock hard now, and it stuck straight out of his pants, ready to be buried in the first soft, wet hole it could find. Lucky for him, and unlucky for Angela, mere inches from the tip of his massive cock was the entrance to Angela’s untouched asshole. Reggie leaned over, and unloosed a long string of spit to cover the head of his cock, and to provide a little lubrication for his assault on Angela’s ass. He then carefully spread her cheeks apart, and placed the head of his cock against the puckered entrance to Angela’s ass.
She tried to relax, to keep the pain at a minimum, but Reggie was insistent. He knew what he needed, and he wasn’t about to wait. Reggie shoved as Angela felt her ass split open. He slid his monster cock up her butt, and ignored her screams of pain. Angela had never felt anything like the searing pain that was shooting through her bowels right now. The huge cock that had invaded her ass was anything but gentle. It was nothing like the hundreds of cocks she had had inside her very wet, and very experienced pussy. This cock was torture. It burned, it stretched, it tore, and it just plain hurt.
Reggie moved his hands from her ass cheeks to her hips, and ground his meat in even further. He pulled back out a little way, but then shoved it right back in. Angela cried out in pain, “OW – you mother fucker! That hurts! Stop!” The four men just laughed at her, and Reggie grabbed her hips even harder. He began to pump in and out of her as with earnest. “Damn, bitch – you got one fine ass” he said, as he continued to fill her up. Reggie knew he couldn’t last long – she was just too tight. His strokes got faster and faster, and his breathing got deeper and deeper.
“you fucking bitch…you’re gonna make me cum. Damn, bitch – you got a fine ass” Reggie panted.
Angela surprised them, and most of all, herself, when she felt herself beginning to grind back against Reggie. It was actually starting to feel alright…more than alright, she began to feel her pussy get wet. Could it be that she was getting turned on by this? What the fuck was wrong with her? An uncontrollable groan of pleasure escaped her mouth while Reggie kept up the vicious attack on her shit canal. The harder and faster he fucked, the louder Angela’s moans became. Reggie felt his balls contract, and knew that he was about to blow. He quickly pulled his cock out of her now-deflowered ass and spun Angela onto her back. Her face was a mess of tears, runny mascara, matted hair and sweat. To this, Reggie added an enormous amount of hot cum. He coated her face in his spunk. Rope after rope of cum shot into her pretty face, and Angela couldn’t help herself. Her tongue snaked out to catch the last few drops on the fly, and to lick up the cum that was now dripping into her open mouth.
Reggie, T-Bone, Jerome and Carlos just smiled at each other, as they knew Angela was theirs. They would get plenty of use out of this skinny, big-titted white bitch, who was currently laying across their pool table with a gaping asshole that was dripping blood onto the felt. This was going to be one good little white whore, and they knew just what to do with her.
Angela could not believe what had just happened to her. She had just had her ass torn apart by a huge black cock, and she had loved it! What she had loved even more was the facial she had been given immediately after. She had never allowed a man to cum in, around or near her face before. She thought it was gross and slutty, but after the coating she had just been given, she realized she had been missing out. As she lay on the pool table, sweating and breathing hard, with her hair full of cum, she waited. Waited for their next move.
Reggie pushed his cock back inside his uniform pants, zipped up and looked at Jerome and Carlos “Okay, motherfuckers, I gots to go. You take care of this bitch, and don’t let T-Bone hurt her too bad. I might swing by after my shift is over to have me another go at that sweet ass. Mmmm – I love me a tight white girl ass.!” With that, he looked at Angela laying on the table, the slapped her face. “See you later, slut”, and walked out the door.
Carlos turned to Jerome, “you got any rope around here?”
“Yeah – I got something in the back room. Hang on.”
Jerome disappeared into the back of the bar, while T-Bone continued to stare at the cum-covered, nearly naked Angela. He was literally drooling out of the corner of his mouth, and Angela could see an enormous bulge in his pants. Suddenly, she was scared. What the hell WAS that thing? And where was he going to put it? Her thoughts were interrupted when Jerome returned.
“here you go – I got about twenty feet of rope”
Carlos looked at the cotton line closely. “That will do just fine.” He grabbed his knife and cut the rope into two lengths, and handed each of the other men a piece. “Okay, guys – grab an arm and tie her to the pool table.”
Jerome and T-Bone made quick work of tying Angela’s arms to the table. Carlos reached up and removed his bandana. As he moved it toward her face, Angela thought he was going to wipe the now-drying cum out of her eyes. Instead, Carlos tied it over her mouth as a gag. “There you go, chica. Now nobody can hear you scream!” Carlos tipped his head back and laughed.
Angela still had her legs free, Carlos had left them untied so that she would be easier to position. She thought that maybe she could kick her way out, but her arms were tied too tightly. There was no way she could get off the table, even if she had managed to knock all three of them out. She lay there, trembling, wondering what was coming next.
“Okay, T-Bone. I know you’re dying for this white pussy, and you’re gonna get it, but Jerome gets his first. He needs to be able to feel something down there. If he has to go after you, it’ll be like throwin’ a hotdog down a hallway!”.
This statement made Angela even more afraid of what T-Bone was packing between those enormous legs of his. Her wonderment stopped then, as Jerome was suddenly on top of her. She could smell his acrid breath as he moved his face inches from hers.
“You ready for a real man, you nasty white whore? Jerome is gonna show you how a real man fucks. You better get ready for this…”
Jerome took off his white t-shirt to reveal a chest covered in scars. Some looked like surgical scars, others looked like scars from knife wounds. Regardless, it was about the most unattractive chest Angela had ever seen. He then pulled down his dirty jeans and his boxers to reveal a cock that was disturbingly small and misshapen. It was a good thing Angela had the gag in, or she’d have laughed at the size of Jerome’s cock. The thing that kept running through her mind was “I guess it’s not true what they say…”. Jerome did not know, or care, what she thought however. He climbed up on the pool table and reached for Carlos’ knife that was still laying there. Angela’s eyes flashed as Jerome brought the knife up to her face. She had no idea what he was up to…then he lowered the knife to her chest, and inserted it under the connective material between her bra cups, and pressed up. The sharp blade did its job and cut her bra in half. Her tits fell out of the ruined cups, and spilled onto her sides. Jerome wasted no time, and grabbed her breasts roughly with his hands. He squeezed so hard, she was afraid he would burst the silicone bags that had been surgically implanted in them.
“You likes that, don’t you bitch”? Jerome panted
Angela could just grunt, as the gag in her mouth prevented any response. Jerome took his hands off her tits long enough to move them to her knees. He gave a shove and pushed them wide apart, then took up a position in between them. He aimed his little cock at the soft pink spot between Angela’s shaven pussy lips and lurched forward. Angela barely flinched as she felt his tiny cock slide inside her. She could feel him humping and pumping for all he was worth, but could barely feel anything. Jerome’s hands returned to her breasts, and began to mash her breasts as he wailed away at her wet pussy. Angela kept her eyes closed, so as not to have to look at Jerome’s ugly, unshaven face. He pumped and grunted and sweated, and Angela just kept hoping he’d be done soon. His tiny dick was doing more to frustrate her than it was to satisfy her. She suddenly found herself hoping for T-Bone’s monster cock, as her lust was beginning to build.
“Oh – you nasty cunt. I’m gonna cum!!!” Jerome grunted at Angela. She felt him tense up, then felt a little dribble of warm liquid slide down the outside of her pussy. Jerome rolled off of her, panting, and lay on the pool table sweating and breathing hard. “Damn bitch, you got one loose pussy. You must be a whore!” Jerome taunted. Angela opened her eyes to see Jerome laying there, but what she was looking for was standing just behind Jerome. T-Bone and his monster cock were next.
“Okay, Jerome – get the fuck out of the way. It’s T-Bone time!” Carlos instructed.
“Ain’t you gonna have a go first?” asked T-Bone
Carlos looked at him and said “No. I’m a happily married man, motherfucker. My old lady catches me fuckin some nasty white whore like this, and she’ll cut my balls off! No way I’m gettin any of that shit!”.
“Suit yourself” said T-Bone, pushing Carlos aside, “Just get the fuck outta my way, cause I GOTTA get me some of that. I needs it NOW!”
T-Bone didn’t waste the time to take his shirt off. He simply pulled his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, and grabbed hold of his rapidly hardening cock. Angela picked her head up from the table to see what she was about to be violated with, and almost passed out. The piece of meat T-Bone had in his hand had to have been at least a foot long, and as big around as a mayonnaise jar! There was NO way that huge thing was going to fit inside her pussy. Angela’s eyes registered fear, and T-Bone knew it.
“You better be ready, slut. T-Bone is gonna tear UP that whore pussy of yours!”. With that, he moved between her legs and positioned the tip of his enormous cock against her wet pussy. “You ready?”
Angela just grunted. T-Bone took it as her agreement and shoved with all his might.
“AAAAAAARAAAMMMMFFFFF” Angela screamed into the gag as T-Bone’s unreal cock split her pussy in two. It felt like someone was splitting her in half like a wishbone. T-Bone’s gigantic meat was so big that even Angela’s well-used pussy could not take it all. He seemed to sense this, as he eased up just a bit to allow her to get used to the size. The only problem was, there was just no way to get used to that much size. Angela’s battered pussy screamed out in pain as T-Bone continued to shove it in. She was sure that there would be cock coming out her throat if he pushed any harder. She had never felt so completely filled up in her entire life. It was as if there was not a single millimeter of spare room inside her body. Angela had the fleeting thought that if she farted, she would probably explode! A quick smile flashed across her face at this thought, but it was immediately replaced by a grimace of pain as T-Bone pulled his pussy-wrecker out, and the jammed it right back in.
Angela grunted as the head of his monster cock pounded into her cervix. His enormous hands held her ankles straight up, as his hips pulled back once more and he shoved his cock into her, jackhammer-style. Angela’s head began to swim as T-Bone took on a frenetic tempo of assault on her stretched cunt. The more she cried, the harder he fucked. After a few minutes of getting used to it, Angela found herself beginning to actually enjoy the sensation of being stuffed full of cock. As T-Bone continued to hammer away at her pussy, Angela pulled her legs free of his hands, and wrapped them around his waist. T-Bone was shocked by this brazen act. He had destroyed a lot of white pussy in his day, but he had never had one actually try to fuck him back.
“Damn, bitch – you is one nasty slut for sure” T-Bone grunted, and he tried to pound her into submission. The harder he fucked her though, the more she seemed to want it, until he couldn’t tell who was fucking who. T-Bone wanted to hear what she thought about being pounded into submission, so he reached up and tore off the gag that Carlos had tied around her mouth.
“Come on, motherfucker – is that all you got? Fuck me like I need to be fucked! Come on, you big black stud – use that cock like you know how. Fuck my little white pussy!” Angela screamed, teased and begged. Her fears were completely gone now, replaced by a wanton lust she had never felt. “Oh my GOD!” she screamed “Fuck me! Fuck me! FUCK MEEEEEE!” Angela felt the first wave of orgasm wrack her body, as her pussy tried to grip the monstrous cock even tighter.
T-Bone did not let up. He kept pounding faster and faster, until it all became a blur. He was doing his best to destroy this white bitch, but she was keeping up with him stroke for stroke. “Damn, cunt – you is a whore” he grunted, as he felt his balls begin to swell. T-Bone knew a gigantic cum was not far away. He slowed his tempo enough to allow him to think about where he was going to plant his seed – did he want to shoot it across her face, or on those awesome tits? He was still working on an answer, when Angela looked up at him
“Shoot it inside me. I want your cum deep inside me. I want your to have your big-cock baby, T-Bone! Cum in me! Cum in me!”.
No sooner had she said this, than the entire room was flooded with sunlight…
Angela and T-Bone froze in mid-stroke, their heads directed toward the door. Two silhouettes were outlined in the doorway, one male, and one very obviously female. The door swung shut as the two silhouettes walked toward them. Instantly, Angela took stock of her situation. Here she was – a rich, Beverly Hills wife, a pillar of her community, tied to a pool table in a seedy bar in Compton, with a face covered in dried cum, and a twelve inch long black cock buried to the balls inside her wet cunt. She could not have been in a worse position.
“See – there she is, jus’ like I tol’ you”, Carlos’ voice rang out. He was looking at the newcomers, and motioning toward Angela. Angela could not crane her neck far enough to get a good look at who it was that had just walked in, but when the silhouette spoke, she knew.
“I knew she was a whore. Look at that. Thank you for proving it for me, Carlos.” The unmistakable rasp of Olin Boddiford rang across the barroom.
What the fuck was her HUSBAND doing here? Angela was thrust into a sudden panic at the thought of Olin seeing her get pounded by T-Bone, and she suddenly tried to get him off of her. “Rape! Rape! Baby – they are raping me!” She yelled.
Olin looked at her cooly, and said “Shut up, bitch. This is what you wanted. This is what you get. You’ve fucked hundreds of men who weren’t me – what’s one more? Go ahead, sir – continue”
T-Bone needed no further instruction, as he immediately resumed his assault. His strokes were long and fast, and in no time, he put his head back and grunted as he felt his hot seed erupt from the tip of his gigantic cock. His load was as big as his cock said it would be. It bounced off her cervix, and filled all of the crooks and crevices of Angela’s ultra-streched pussy. It kept coming and coming, until T-Bone’s sperm was forming a huge puddle on the pool table felt underneath Angela’s ass, mingling with the puddle of blood from her earlier ass reaming at the hands of Officer Reggie. “Uuunnngghhhhhh” T-Bone grunted, as he pulled his cock out with a disgusting slurping sound and jumped to his feet. Angela was left laying on the table, with her pussy gaping wide open, cum dripping from it like a waterfall.
“You are such a whore” Olin spat at Angela, “See – you were right, thank you, Rita”
Angela snapped her head around to see Olin’ therapist, Rita, standing beside him. Rita had a big smile on her face. “You’re welcome, Papi. I tol’ you my husband would take care of her”
“What?” shot Angela “Your husband?”
“My sweet Carlos” said Rita. “Come here, baby!”, and she reached for Carlos, then gave him the biggest, wettest kiss ever. “Did you fuck this little slut too, Papi?”
“No baby, no way. I’m not gonna let a slut like this keep me out of your pants” Carlos replied, as he grabbed a double-handful of Rita’s amazing tit-flesh. “You’re the only pussy my cock wants, baby”. Rita smiled at him and kissed him again.
Angela’s head was spinning. What was this? Was this a set-up? What was going on? She looked at Olin for answers
Olin just stared. “You filthy whore. I knew you were just in this for the money. I knew you were fucking everyone on our staff, I just couldn’t prove it. When Rita came to me a couple of months ago with this plan, I thought it was a little too mean. But the more I saw new pool boys and gardeners come and go, the madder I got, and the more I knew I had to teach you a lesson. Don’t ever fuck with an old school Hollywood man, baby. We always get the last laugh!” with that, Olin began to cackle and laugh like he hadn’t in years. Suddenly, his laughter stopped. His eyes became very wide, and his tongue stuck straight out of his mouth. Something wasn’t right
“Olin? OLIN!” Angela screamed
Olin Boddiford toppled forward onto the pool table and then slumped to the floor. Where he had been standing a second before, stood Rita with some sort of wand in her hand, and a cruel smile on her face.
“What the fuck did you DO to him, you bitch!” Angela yelled at Rita.
“What you didn’t have the balls to do, puta!” shot Rita. She approached the tied-down Angela with the wand in her hand. She raised it and touched it to Angela’s leg and pressed the button. ZAP!
Angela felt white-hot electrical pain shoot up her leg, and into her stomach, then her heart. Before she could think to say anything, the pain stopped.
Rita looked down at her, “Cattle prod. But a little more intense. I gave you a quick shot of 2 amps. Olin got thirty seconds of 20 amps. I doubt he felt much before his heart exploded” and she laughed.
Angela felt instantly sorry for everything she’d ever done to Olin. The whole reason she was in the position she was in now was so totally wrong. She realized that she hadn’t really wanted him killed, she just wanted his money. She was no killer, she was just a money-hungry bitch. But it was too late now. Olin Boddiford was dead, and the killer’s husband had a check with her name on it as payment for doing the deed. She was fucked.
“Now”, continued Rita, “I’m gonna have my revenge on you”. With that, she climbed up on the pool table, and placed one foot on either side of Angela’s face. She looked at Carlos, who was standing above Angela’s head with Angela’s iPhone in camera mode. “Are you ready, Papi?” she asked. Carlos nodded. Rita squatted down, lifted her skirt up, pulled her panties to the side and began to piss on Angela’s cum-covered face.
“Wha? Stop! STOP IT!” Angela squirmed and thrashed, but she could not get up. T-Bone had taken up position behind her, and was holding her legs down. Flashes of light kept exploding in her eyes as Carlos took picture after picture of his wife pissing on Angela’s face. Angela almost wished that T-Bone had not ripped the gag out of her mouth, as it would have prevented her from having a mouth full of piss. As the golden stream stopped, she felt Rita’s hand cover her mouth, as the other pinched her nose closed. “Swallow” said Rita. Angela had no choice. She complied. She swallowed the mouthful of warm, salty piss.
“Okay, Papi – go ahead and send the pictures” commanded Rita.
With a couple of quick clicks on the screen, he looked up. “They are gone” replied Carlos. “Everyone in her address book now knows what a filthy slut she is”
Angela was in shock. Some of Hollywood’s elite were in her iPhone contact list. Now everyone would be seeing pictures of this Puerto Rican cunt showering her face with piss, as her hair and face were coated in the cum of a black cop. Her days as part of Beverly Hills high society were over.
Angela broke down in tears for the second time today. Her world had been torn at the seams. She had lost her money, her social status, her husband and her ass-cherry all in a matter of hours. She cried out loud, wishing she could put her head in her arms, but as she was still tied to the pool table, this was quite impossible. Angela was still laying there, cum oozing from her gaping pussy, ass still bleeding a little, face and hair wet and matted with cum and piss, her arms stinging from the burns from where she had been pulling against the ropes as T-Bone pummeled her raw cunt. She was quite a sight. To make matters worse, everyone in Hollywood now knew she was nothing but a degenerate slut. She was destroyed.
Rita looked at Carlos, “Good job, Papi – we got that bitch right where we said we would”. Carlos smiled,
From behind the bar, Jerome spoke up – “Hey, Carlos , look what I have…”
Carlos and Rita turned to see Jerome holding up a little black notebook. He held it up and said, “Looks like the stupid bitch kept all of her passwords, account numbers and codes written down. We have access to all of her money with this!” Jerome tossed the book over to Carlos, then joined T-Bone at the pool table to size up the ruined white bitch tied there.
Rita smiled. “Oh, Papi – you are the best!” She laughed and kissed him again. Carlos smiled back at Rita and tucked the notebook, and a slightly crumpled check, into her bra as he copped a quick feel. Then he reached behind his back, and withdrew two handkerchief-wrapped objects. He handed one to Rita, and kept the other for himself. He looked at her, she looked at him, and they both spun around to face T-Bone and Jerome, who were watching the scene unfold.
The handkerchiefs dropped, and Carlos and Rita produced matching 9mm pistols. They pointed them directly at the two black men. Carlos smiled “Sorry boys, but we can’t have any witnesses. Consider the white bitch my farewell present!” and they pulled the triggers.
Rita was a better aim than Carlos. Her bullet found T-Bone’s forehead and splattered what was left of his brain all over the back wall of the bar. A shameful waste of a monumental cock dropped like a sack of lead as his huge body collapsed on the floor. He was dead before his knees touched.
Carlos’ bullet hit Jerome in the throat. It didn’t kill him right away, and it gave Jerome just enough time to reach under his shirt and pull out the pearl-handled revolver he had hidden there. As he pitched forward onto his knees, he lifted the gun toward Carlos and pulled the trigger. Carlos winced as he felt the bullet enter his groin. He shot again, and saw Jerome’s face disappear into a fine pink mist. When he looked down to see how bad he’d been hit, he knew he was in trouble. Blood was spurting from the front of his pants. That fucking Jerome had hit him in the femoral artery. He needed help…fast!