Unzipped: An Urban Erotic Tale (25 page)

Pearl lay down on him, her erect nipples pressing into his muscular back. She held his hips and thrust deeply, pushing into him, then withdrew slowly, fucking him like she was a man.

They rocked together, with Donut reaching back and rubbing Pearl’s ass as she drooled on his neck and gyrated her hips, pushing hard rubber into him from behind.

“Come up on your knees,” Pearl told him as she came up on hers. She pressed her thighs together and sat back on her ankles. Donut backed toward her until his ass was above the dildo pointing in the air, then he bent his knees and lowered his body while Pearl helped guide him down until he was impaled on her rubber dick and nearly sitting in her lap. Pearl grabbed his waist as he raised and lowered himself, slamming himself down over and
over again on that plastic dick as Pearl pounded, going hard and tagging his ass the way she knew he wanted it.

And his dick was rock hard too.

She reached in front of him and stroked and squeezed it, sending loud moans falling from his lips. It jerked and spasmed in her hand and Pearl could tell he was about to shoot one off.

Quickly, she released him with one hand and searched under the pillow for the special toy she had brought with her. Her right hand closed over it and Pearl dropped her left hand down and scooped up Donut’s big bulging balls and gripped the base of his dick all at once.

Fingering his own nipples, Donut was busy moaning and cumming and slamming his ass down in her lap, and by the time he realized what had happened Pearl was holding his dick and both of his severed nuts up in the air.

The sound he made was a half shriek, half yelp, and then Pearl’s right hand moved again, a lightning-fast blur over his shoulder as her fish-gutting blade sliced a second time, this time higher and deadlier as she opened up his throat and cut off his cries.

And as Donut pitched forward on the bed dislodging himself from the plastic dick he’d just been riding, Pearl gazed at her left hand, still held high in the air, as the grimy blood of her daughter’s killer ran down her arm and dripped from her elbow.

G
ame time was approaching and Pearl knew she’d have to move quickly. Nigs were probably already blowing up Yoda’s phone and banging on the door to his suite trying to figure out where he’d dipped to. When Donut turned up missing too, it was sure to make Mookie suspicious and get him to tightening up his net, and that was the last thing Pearl wanted him to do.

Killing Donut had been a messy affair, and with no Menace around to help her get rid of the body, Pearl had been forced to handle her business on her own. She had run up and down the hotel stairs searching the hallways furtively but diligently until she found what she was looking for, and if cleaning Donut’s bathroom, putting fresh sheets and blankets on his bed, and emptying his trash was the price she had to pay to buy herself some time, then it was a small price indeed.

Right now, Donut’s body was wrapped in his bloody sheets and cooling at the bottom of an industrial laundry bin that Pearl
had stolen from an unlocked third-floor housekeeping closet. She’d taken clean sheets, a comforter, disinfectant, towels, and garbage bags, and made his room up neatly, then stashed the laundry bin in the rear of the large housekeeping closet where other used bins were waiting to be emptied.

Fifteen minutes later she was back in Yoda’s corner suite, preparing to implement the rest of her plan. She would have preferred to stay in Donut’s room but she didn’t want to risk getting peeped going in and out of there. Besides, a niggah called Piff was next on her list and she looked forward to sending him on a ride. She wasn’t sure how she would handle him, but she had more than enough toys in her bag of tricks to give her plenty of options.

After taking a quick shower and swallowing four Tylenols, Pearl changed into a pair of black shorts and some fresh black Timbs. She put on a white belly shirt and covered it with a long-sleeved black hoody, then took an inventory of everything in one of the smaller boxes that had been delivered, laying all the items on the floor to be sure all the essentials were there.

She had just counted out everything she would need when she heard a fuck-noise ringtone cut into the silence. She recognized it as coming from Yoda’s cell phone, which was in the pocket of the pants his dead ass was still wearing. Pearl’s eyes snaked over to the air-conditioning duct where his body was hidden, and for a moment she thought she could smell his ass, already beginning to rot behind the panel.

She’d have to move fast.

Flipping open her own phone, Pearl sent a simple text message to a woman she had a lot in common with, but had only recently met.

2:30 p.m. Party in the Penthouse. Decorations ready?

Seconds later she had a response.

Cake already baked. Can’t wait
.

Minutes later she was outside on the large balcony where she spent some time tying and securing the rope she’d brought to the right side of the railing and around the metal frame of the round lawn table that was bolted to the cement deck.

She planned to rappel near the corner edge of the building where she would avoid being seen by the guests in other rooms. Of course, anyone who bothered to look out from the buildings across the way might peep her, but by the time they made any noise or raised any alarms her dirt would be long done and she’d be long gone.

Pearl slipped her arms through her backpack, then strapped up and fastened the harness around her thighs. Using her muscular arms, she hoisted herself easily over the ledge and ran the rope between her legs then tested it briefly. With her left hand on the rope in front of her, and her right hand holding the other end behind her snug in the crack of her ass, Pearl bounded off the balcony and rappelled three floors down until she reached the railing of the balcony on the fourth floor.

Once there, she quickly climbed over the railing and stripped off her hoody, then took off her small backpack, and pulled out the red satin ribbon. She wrapped it around her tight waist, crisscrossed it between her breasts, and tied a big bow at the top of her head.

Nipples erect, pumped-up and smiling, Pearl let her vicious hips sway as she walked the length of the balcony until she was standing before the sparkling glass doors. She peered inside, then knocked and stepped back as Piff Walker opened the sliding glass doors. He stood there in hot leather pants and dirty socks, with a grin on his face and a frosty beer in his hand.

His designer shirt was unbuttoned, showing a pale, scrawny body with wiry black hair sprouting on his sunken chest.

Pearl gave him a huge, dimpled smile, but on the inside she was grimacing at the nasty sight of his man titties and acne-flared skin.

“Who dis?” he said, his lips spread wide in a crooked grin.

He was a pathetic muthafucker, Pearl thought. Skinny, yellow, and stank looking. She would have to make quick, easy work of his ass because there was no way she could bring herself to lure, bait, or fuck him.

“Yo, who is you? Who the fuck sent me a present?”

According to Irish’s files, Piff’s goofy looks were deceiving. He had a rep for being a brutal gangsta who liked to inflict pain. He was quick on the trigger and had a string of dead bodies to his credit. Pearl knew she had to be slick and careful. Piff was one of them sleepers the FBI always warned them about. Criminals who looked harmless, even pitiful, but were the coldest, most vicious killers you ever wanted to run into.

Pearl wasn’t taking any chances. She was still a little weak from the ass-kicking and drugs Yoda had put on her the night before, so she knew she had to get this niggah quick and dirty before he could get her.

“How you get out there?” Piff asked, looking up and down the balcony as Pearl giggled and backed up toward the railing.

“Mookie sent me,” Pearl said sexily. She slipped the bow off her head and let the ribbon fall at her feet, then shrugged out of her tank top until her bold, sweat-dotted titties were pointing at Piff like double bazookas.

“He said I’m yours for the weekend!”

Piff grinned and followed Pearl outside onto the balcony. A suspicious glint shone in his eyes but Pearl went to work providing the ultimate distraction.

She licked her lips and let her gaze drop down to his crotch, then put her fingers on her waistband. She unbuttoned her shorts and began zipping them down.

Piff smelled pussy and he was on it.

He opened his arms and took two steps toward her, and that’s when Pearl let him have it. She kicked out with amazing speed and power, turning her ankle just before she connected with him. The flat edge of her Tims cracked his shin and made him scream. Piff pitched forward, his bone splintered. Pearl struck again as he was on his way down, jabbing four fingers deep into the meaty part of his yellow neck, paralyzing him before he could recover.

She caught him before he hit the ground, thrusting her knee into his soft, nasty stomach, and hoisting him under his arms. Bending slightly, Pearl clutched Piff’s leather-covered crotch with her right hand and lifted him until his back was on the railing, then tipped his head and neck backward and flipped him right over, sending his body, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, flying down to the roof of the empty dance hall below.

A dull thump resounded as his body landed and lay motionless and still. Pearl watched coldly as a puddle of blood spread beneath him in a slow-moving circle. And somewhere in the distance, a burning child cried for her mother.

T
ank Parker had overindulged.

After drinking, smoking, and partying to excess the night before, he had lounged in the bed snoring and farting until nearly 3 p.m., and if the stupid-ass maid hadn’t been banging down his door he could have slept all fucking day.

But that would have been defeating the whole purpose of being on the scene, Tank told himself as he rolled his bulky frame out of bed, pulled on his pants, and let the maid inside his room.

The pregame party last night had been the shit. He’d hit at least forty lines of fish scales and sucked down every drop of Krug the waitresses could carry. He wouldn’t even talk about the sticky. Nig had smoked till he couldn’t smoke no fuckin’ more. Smoked till he couldn’t fuckin’ see. His manz had to bring him to his room and toss him on the bed—that’s how fucked up his head had been.

And now his head was banging and his stomach was hollering.
Tank wanted some food and some weed, and not necessarily in that order.

“Hey,” he said, walking into the bathroom and barking at the skinny little Asian girl who had already started stripping the sheets off his bed. Bitch was titty-less and flat-assed. He left the door open as he took his dick out his boxers and leaned one hand against the wall and started pissing as hard as a bull.

“Call down to room service and tell them to send me up a couple of steaks and some other good shit. Make sure my meat is rare. I want that shit bleeding like a bitch needing a tampon. Throw in some potatoes and runny eggs. And get me a bottle of wine.”

Tank shook his dick off, then reached into his back pocket and pulled out a phat knot of bills. He peeled off two fifties and tossed them at the maid.

“Tell them to hurry up with that shit too.”

He picked up a Black & Mild off the top of the television and lit it, then went back inside the bathroom and stopped the tub up and started running the hot water. As the sweet smell of strawberry sticky filled the air, he poured the tiny bottle of bubble bath into the stream and cursed.

“Why y’all muthafuckahs only give a niggah this much soap? Who ass this s’posed to wash? Some lil itty-bitty tiny Chinese ass? Ain’t no niggah got a ass this little! Man, get me some real fuckin’ bubbles for my bath, shit!”

The maid nodded and smiled, and went to hop to it.

“Sir, you want me to clean your bathroom first, sir?”

Tank toked his blunt. “Nah, I want you to get me some food and some fuckin’ bubble bath!”

The maid gave Tank about ten tiny bottles of shower gel from her cart, then walked over to the phone to place his food order.

Tank slammed the bathroom door and stripped out of his
clothes and sank his fat ashy butt down into the hot water. He dumped five bottles of gel in and let the water run until he had a tub full of bubbles.