Orgy in Masmorrah

(Part 10) Jessie looked in the back of Peter's eyes, waited for the answer if they would continue together in this endeavor of revenge conceived by the indignant girl. He seemed to be suing the pros and cons when he was questioned again. — So, do you follow me on this parade or not? — Forget about this revenge, Jessie. These guys are bad guys and full of money. Let's go far, where they can't find us. — The only way to get rid of the motherfuckers is to get ahead of ourselves and finish their race before they catch us. — It would be the solution, but you can't fight these people just with the will, you need a plan and guns. — I know how to get guns, and I have a plan to get Maciel. I'm counting on your help. Peter remained thoughtful, the girl surprised him every day. He felt powerless in the face of her determination and lifestyle, yet it only attracted him more. He wouldn't let her go alone, he was in love and he intended to protect her, yet he didn't want to show his loving feelings, not right away. He got into the mood of a partner and showed firmness. — Okay, and where will you get the guns? — I'm gonna go talk to the guy with the mustache and the ponytail that won't come out of the boat around the corner. He sells weed and stuff, these people know where to get these stops. — How did you know that? — That's right! The guy spends a lot of time there without consuming anything and a lot of people talk to him fast and get out. — I didn't realize. I didn't pay attention to him either. Jessie also did not, however, the mustached guy approached her one day when she was alone buying a drink, he offered her a free joint saying it was a courtesy to such a hot mine. She thanked and refused saying: “Today I’m not in the mood, maybe another day.” She hadn't told Peter that because she'd only let him down. — Maybe I'm wrong about the guy. I'll probe carefully to see if it happens. — What about you? - asked the boy. — No, but there must be no secret, right? Just hold tight, aim and pull the trigger. — In theory, that's it, but I asked if you know any types of weapons, so you could buy something appropriate. — You know? - I wanted to know Jessie. — Almost nothing. — So let's do an Internet search to see guys and prices before I go after them. An hour and a half later, after some reading and some videos watched on YouTube, we were already almost weapons experts. I was inclined to buy either a (9mm) or a (.40). At the end of the afternoon, Jessie went on her own to look for the guy in the boat. After a quick chat, she asked for four "balls" (boughts of grass), put on the table the amount to be paid for the merchandise, and an extra hundred reais bill. He put his hand on it and said, — I need to buy a gun, if you can tell me where and with whom, I'll give you two more of those after I finish the parade. If you don't know, leave it alone and just take the bullet money. — I'll tell you where, it's in the dungeon, it's upstairs in the golden water. - Send another hundred, then I'll tell you who. I took one of the two notes already left separate inside my bra and pushed it into it still folded. He took it, he closed his hand and he said, — He gets there at night and offers to work in the house, asks to talk to Salome, he is the guy; besides the pimp of the girls is also the owner of the piece. Then it's up to you, exchange some good ideas. And you're going with the money. — How much money? — Three bucks if you want a lead pipe. - Don't waver, if they think you're cane or X9, they'll come out of there in a garbage bag and dump you in the woods. - And bring my other two hundred when you get the iron. It was a little past ten o'clock, the sound of high heels during slow pasts stand out in the wilderness block. Jessie's look was that of an eagle lurking, it was almost opposite the "Masmorrah", a fifth-rate infernin with economic prostitution, narcotics, cash card games and, evidently, a lot of drink. The party was going on every day until morning. Jessie was characterized as one of the girls who made a living, or sometimes perished working in the illegal den. She wore a dress as short as her bluejacket jeans, high heels and overcompensated makeup. He went into the establishment and asked the clerk for a tequila. He paid to be served and discreetly asked for Salome. Guy pointed his finger at a big guy telling me to talk to him. He drank his drink in one sip and went through the little room passing by a pool table. You heard funny things and invitations without losing your good humor and sympathy. He turned everyone down with a smile and came to the man literally blocking the passage to a ladder of access to the upper floor. — Are you Salome? He gave me an ironic smile, then closed his face and increased my fear. An interrogation began about who I was, what I was doing there, how I knew about the place, etc. After my answers he called from his cell phone commenting on me with his interlocutor, hugged me around the waist turning my body towards a surveillance camera on a wall. He finally said Salome would see me. — He's upstairs at poker -- come with me! I was taken to a room where we could barely breathe because of the excess of ordinary cigarette smoke besides the devil's cigarette. The smell of smoke, mixed with the smell of men in need of a bath, besides the smell of drinks, made too cruel the permanence of the not accustomed, but it was already adapted to these odors, are the bones of the trade. — Boss! Here's the little patricinha — the fort screamed. The tallest woman ever seen in my life, stood up from a seat around a table where she was with five more men and said, — Come on, you little bitch! Jeez! It wasn't a woman, it was a transvestite about six feet tall and with a bad face... Or bad. — So, young lady, you want to be part of the family? - Hmm! You're just like a patsy, we could get some VIP stops and make a few extra bucks with this little body. — Excuse me, actually, I came to take care of another stop — could I talk to you alone? Salome had a laugh followed by the other sacks. — There are no secrets between brothers, or spit it out or get lost, young girl, you're messing with our game. I commented on the need to buy a gun, I was sworn to death, and I needed something to defend myself. — There's a lot of people behind a pipe. You need to get in line. — How long would that be? — Like I don't know you, like, three months. New laughs from assholes. — But I can put you first in line if you want to play a game with us. — What kind of game? — Cards, Blackjack 21, here we call 21 Suruba. — Win or lose in the game, you go to the top of the list and get your scream. — And you bet too high? — No, it would just be the content there with you, nothing more. When he spoke “content”, he made a circular movement with his finger pointing at me. I didn't understand anything at the time. I had taken about three grand to buy the gun, if I lost everything, patience, I would go home for more money, the important thing was the gun. — You in? — Yeah. — So sit down, I'll remind everyone what the rules are. Rules of 21 Suruba: Jessie and the six guys at the table would play Blackjack 21 using all cards from just one deck, with A (A) worth 1, all figures worth 10, and the other cards the number marked. She'd buy it first, and if she was 21, she'd win and the play was over, because the advantage of the tie would be hers. If I blew up, I'd be forced to have sex with all six guys, including the giant transvestite. That was the value of the bet, the “content” carried by it was her body. The young woman would gain nothing, in fact, except the opportunity to buy the gun immediately. It was necessary to beat everyone in order not to be abused by the bastards. I definitely fell into a blow, and I even thought I'd quit the game, but I said I was in and I heard the alert: — The word here in the dungeon is the law, and the bug catches to those who do not comply with the agreement — said the owner of the piece in threatening tone. She remembered the conversation with the guy at the bar, and about going out in a black bag. It was up to her to resign herself to still be alive by leaving the place. More about the rules: if it stopped with less than 21, it would keep its two initial cards hidden and the others would play. I'd take part in the breakup if anyone scored more points than her, and if it didn't, obviously. Salome shuffled, told her to cut, and he gave them two letters each. The girl took yours carefully, one over the other, holding her two hands close to her face, pushed her away from the bottom enough to see... He looked happy, smiled and didn't want any more letters, he said. There was a little murmur among the evil class, there were expressions of discouragement mixed with revolt, apparently, it would take 21 to win and participate in the baccalaureate, thought some — The game is played people, let's play — said the boss. The guys were buying cards and trying 21. One of them looks like a troubled user of heavy things, left with 20 and still tried an ace. He got really pissed when a two came in, it was the room bursting. There were only two players left, and there were two monsters. The fifth guy, like club security, a black guy with more than three feet eighty-eight pounds of muscle and some lard, wouldn't buy, would try his luck, said confident. Some of the players voted out made a joke saying there would be no penalty fight in case of a draw. He'd be out, and he wouldn't smell like a brand-new pyrkite. The stronghold remained calm and without expressing emotion. — I'm going to buy -- said Salome, and even turned his letters, Q and A. cried out for the other's fans. "Fucked," I thought, and I twisted a lot not to see a 10 or figure. Luckily he bought a seven, I was relieved, with 18 he wouldn't beat me. He must have deduced it by rubbing his hands and energizing himself to get another card. God damn it! A 2 came and the fuss was general. According to the thought of the majority, with 20 he tied in points with me, and would not win the dispute, and taking an ace would be too difficult because two of the four aces were already available. I feared for his decision, “he cannot stop”, I thought. The shrewd guy looked right into my eyes and said, - I stopped, I want to see your letters. I froze big and couldn't make poker face, that is, not express emotion. With discouragement I turned my cards, at the same time became the other player. I was only a 10 and 8, the heavy-weight stronghold stopped with a J and 9. He had a scary laugh and said he was sure of my bluff. Previously, one of the losers had left with 20 and yet he tried his luck and burst, the guy became possessed to see my letters, began to offend me and wanted to come at me. The strong guy held him and Salome gave him a hard time for being a bad loser, spoke firmly by imposing his authority as a leader and sent the troubled one out of the dungeon. I was left to accept defeat and relax to the fullest extent to bear the penalty. I was taken to a little room where naked and lubricated by a lot of intimate gel, faced the two giants. Their members were as disproportionate as, fortunately it was one at a time. However, the perverts clogged themselves with energy sources and pumped me for most of the night. After the punk footprint I'd be back in recovery for a few days based on seat baths. At least I got the gun, a pistol (.40) with the number scratched, according to Salome, and three chargers. You could start a war. Go on...