The Kat Trap

by Cairo

  “Whatever. Oh, shit”—she snapped her fingas—“I almost forgot why I called ya ass. You know that dude ya moms is fuckin’?”

  For some reason my stomach knotted up. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “What about him?”

  “Well, word has it that the nigga got outta prison sometime last year. I think for robbery or some shit. The nigga’s from Brownsville.”

  “Okay and?” I said, eyein’ another Donna Karan creation, this slick-ass slip dress. Hmmm, I’d wear the fuck outta this.

  “I just thought you might wanna know.”

  I rolled my eyes, shiftin’ my cell from one ear to the other. “On some real shit, Chanel, I don’t give a fuck. That’s my mother’s shit. Not mine. When I said I was done with her ass, that’s what the fuck it is.”

  “I hear you, girl.” She paused. “Anyway, I don’t know if I should say anything, but since you my girl ’n shit…”

  I frowned my face up. “You shouldn’t say shit to me ’bout what?” I asked, runnin’ my hands along the rack of designer wears.

  “Well, you might wanna know that the word is ya moms is knocked up.”

  I almost dropped the fuckin’ phone. “Say what?!?”

  “Yeah, girl. Ya moms was down at the doctor’s office yesterday with that nigga.”

  Pregnant? I ain’t gonna front. Hearing that shit had a bitch’s head spinnin’. She couldn’t even raise me right. Unh-uh, ain’t no way in muthafuckin’ hell her neglectful ass would be that damn dizzy to let another child slip outta her snatch, I thought.

  “Where’d you hear that shit?” I asked.

  “Well, you didn’t hear this from me, but Tameka works at some doctor’s office over on…damn, I think it’s Atlantic Ave. Anyway, she told Tamia ya moms was up in that piece.”

  Okay, now I’m pissed. This bitch, Tameka, is not only disclosin’ confidential shit, but she’s flappin’ her jaws to her gossipin’-ass sista. That shit was fucked up. And I was gonna check that bitch when I saw her.

  “Well, that’s on her dumb ass.” Although I said that shit, I’m not sure if that’s what I really meant. “Besides, goin’ to a doctor doesn’t mean her ass is pregnant. She coulda been there for a check-up or somethin’.”

  “Hmmm, I guess.”

  “Hmm…nothin’,” I snapped. “What the fuck is that retarded bitch runnin’ her fuckin’ mouth for any damn way? Yeah, you right. You shoulda never told me this shit. ’Cause now, I’ma see Tameka’s trick ass. And it ain’t gonna be cute. How the fuck is she gonna be workin’ in a doctor’s office, tellin’ bitches who’s comin’ and goin’ outta that muhfucka. Let me go,” I said, stormin’ outta Saks. This ho had fucked up my mood. I peeped the time. It was already a little past nine p.m. The mall was gonna be closin’ soon any damn way. I needed to get back to my hotel and take off this fuckin’ hot-ass wig and take out these contacts. And, if I had it my way, fuck my frustrations away.

  “If you gonna call ya moms, don’t tell her you got that shit from me. Just ask her.”

  “Whatever. I’m out.” I disconnected the call, walkin’ toward the exit. I was too fuckin’ through. I really wasn’t sure if I wanted to call my moms or not. Even though in my mind I was sayin’ I really didn’t give a fuck, my heart was sayin’ some other shit. Either way, whether she was knocked the fuck up or not, I was gonna push Tameka’s muthafuckin’ biscuit in for puttin’ my mom’s business on front street. So the fuck what if I ain’t fuckin’ with her. That shit was still low budget. Fuckin’ bum-ass bitch! Ugh, I needed a damn blunt.

  On my way out to the car, my cell rang again. It was Grant. “Hello.”

  “What’s good, beautiful?”

  “You,” I said. I don’t know why, but a bitch was cheesin’ all hard ’n shit and I didn’t even know what the nigga’s dick stroke was like. Though a chick like me ain’t needy ’n shit, it would be kinda nice to have some steady dick to ride. It’s been a long fuckin’ time, I thought, placin’ the earpiece over my ear, since I’ve fucked a nigga I didn’t have to kill.

  “You miss me?”

  “Nigga, please,” I said, laughin’. “You got the wrong number. That’s that other bitch you got suckin’ ya dick.”

  He laughed. “Nah, baby. I got the right number. You the chick with that sweet, hot pussy I’m tryna get up in.”

  I pushed the button to the alarm, opened the door, then slid into my rental. Before puttin’ on my seatbelt, I dug through my bag and pulled out a half-lit blunt I had smoked earlier that mornin’, then lit it. “Take a number and get at the back of the line, then. ’Cause the wait’s gonna be a while.” I puffed the blunt, takin’ in long, deep pulls as I started the engine, then backed outta my parkin’ space. I exhaled, and the smoke filled the car.

  “Oh, word. Then I guess you don’t know me. I’m bum-rushin’ niggas to the front spot, then I’m snatchin’ ya sexy ass up and puttin’ this dick to you.” I laughed, almost chokin’. “You aiight?”

  “Yeah, I’m good.” I coughed again. “Oh, shit. You got me chokin’ ’n shit. You silly as hell.”

  “Nah, it’s all good, ma. I’m just fuckin’ with you.”

  “Oh, so what you sayin’ is, you don’t want none of this pussy?” I joked. “You don’t wanna see how deep ya dick can go, and just how wet it can get?”

  “Hell yeah!” he said excitedly. “Just say the word, and I’m there; strokin’ all up in it.”

  “Oh, now you soundin’ all eager ’n shit.”

  He laughed again. “I am, baby. I am. You got a nigga’s shit bricked, real talk. But I can wait. Trust me. I’m a real patient-type cat.”

  “And good things come to niggas who wait,” I said, gettin’ back on Interstate 15, hittin’ sixty. Ugh, if I’da been in my own whip, I’da been pushin’ a hundred by now. I ain’t gonna front, talkin’ to him and smokin’ that blunt had me feelin’ real relaxed and fuckin’ horny. A bitch was ready to fuck. I’ma do this mark tonight. “Listen, I’m outta town for a few days and I’m on my way back to the hotel. Can I hit you up later?”

  “Most def,” he said. “Be safe, baby.”

  “Thanks. I will,” I said before disconnectin’ the call.

  By the time I got to back to the hotel it was almost 9:45, and I still hadn’t eaten. So I ordered some Chinese food from this spot up the street from the hotel and had it delivered. Since it was only Monday night, and my mark still had another four days left at his conference, I had hoped to quietly knock on his door to try ’n get a feel of this nigga. If things went well, maybe get a dose of dick tonight, and again two more nights before I slumped his ass. But of course I got sidetracked and ended up chillin’ in the room.

  Besides, Cash had called just before I got outta my rental to see what was good. He wanted me to murk his ass tonight, but I told him no. I assured him I’d have a bullet in the nigga’s head before midnight Wednesday. I wanted to watch him for a minute—see how he moved, then make my move. In the meantime, I wanted to do a little sightseein’, and see what was poppin’ with the nightlife. I had heard the Gaslamp Quarter was live Thursday thru Sunday, and a bitch wanted to stretch this trip out as long as I could to see all of what beautiful San Diego had to offer.

  After my shower, I blazed another blunt and paced the floor in my purple lace panties with my titties bouncin’ free and my hair wrapped in a white towel. I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand: 11:19 p.m. I slid open the patio door, then stepped outside. I smoked my blunt, starin’ out at the marina. It was absolutely gorgeous and peaceful out. Definitely a night for deep, slow fuckin’.

  I finished the rest of my blunt, then slid my hands down in my panties. I pressed on my clit, brushed my finga ’cross it, teasin’ it while lightly pinchin’ my nipple. A bitch was horny! Unh-uh, I need more than this. I stopped what I was doin’ and raced back into the suite. I dumped open my bag, grabbed what I needed, took a towel from outta the bathroom, then went back outside.

  I laid the towel across the patio chair, sat down, then
draped my legs over the arms of the chair and slid the head of my dildo into my pussy, teasin’ my slit with the tip. I rested my head on the back of the chair and pushed my make-believe dick in halfway, then quickly pulled it out. I did it again and again until I couldn’t take it anymore, then plunged it deep into my pussy. I moaned. I wanted some real dick bad, needed to be fucked rough. I slammed my dildo in and out of my pussy with one hand and jerked my clit off until I shot my nut all over the dildo. I pulled it outta my wet, sticky pussy, then sucked the juices off it. A bitch was spent. I got up and took my ass to bed.

  Seven a.m., I was up, showered, dressed, and on my way out the door for breakfast in the waterfront restaurant. If my hunch was right, I’d catch my mark there. I walked through the tropical garden, and couldn’t believe how beautiful it was. The parrots and pond set it off just right. I peeped the pool and all the swayin’ palms and decided I’d have to do a few laps before I bounced.

  When I stepped through the door of the restaurant, I quickly scanned the area. Voila! Just like I suspected, my mark was sittin’ at a corner table, readin’ a newspaper and drinkin’ a cup of coffee. I had to give it to him, for an older cat, the nigga was fine and definitely fuckable. I switched my ass toward an empty table two tables away from him. I made sure I sat where he could see a fly bitch in all her goodness. Even in my brown bob-cut wig and brown contacts, I was sexy and sensual. I stood up and removed my brown crochet poncho. Underneath, I was rockin’ a brown one-piece Lycra cat suit. The shit clung to every curve, wrappin’ ’round my ass and titties like a perfect glove, while showin’ off the imprint of my fat pussy. I had it zipped down low ’n sexy, lettin’ a muhfucka know what time it was with my titty game.

  After the waiter took my order, I got up and headed toward the bathroom, passin’ my mark’s table. I caught his eye, and smiled. His eyes lit the fuck up as he returned the smile. “Good morning,” he said.

  “Good mornin’,” I replied, keepin’ it movin’. I took my time in the bathroom, standin’ in front of the mirror. I pressed on another coat of lipstick, then twirled a strand of hair, makin’ sure it was on point. The last thing I needed was tryna be fierce with a lopsided wig piece. As I was comin’ outta the bathroom, I hoped my mark was still at his table. He was. And I purposefully threw an extra shake in my ass as I walked by, takin’ my seat. I swept my eyes ’round the room to see what was what. There were a few square-type niggas at another table with two nondescript bitches, and a slew of white muhfuckas, definitely nothin’ to write home about. Humph. Then came this blonde-haired, blue-eyed, bombshell-type chick outta the bathroom. She walked by with her head up. She musta been in the stall, I thought as she waltzed by.

  This ho was dipped in ice. I peeped her Jimmy Choo slingbacks and Louie Louis bag. Alright, you betta work, bitch! I glanced over my shoulder to see who she was with. She took her seat at a table on the other side of the room with a cluster of white chicks with they faces beat to death with a bunch of pressed powder and whatnot. But you could tell them bitches were paid out the ass.

  When my order came, I peeped my mark glancin’ over at me several times. I smiled at him and slid my fork in and outta my mouth nice ’n slow and very sexy-like, lickin’ my lips. He smiled back. Yeah, nigga, I know you want some of this good pussy. I see it in ya eyes. Don’t worry, muhfucka, I’ma let ya dip ya tongue up in it.

  I even peeped a few white cats eyein’ me on the sly. They knew a classy bitch when they saw one. And I was servin’ it lovely. E’ery so often, my target would look up from his paper, and I’d flirt with him with my eyes just to fuck with him. There’s somethin’ ’bout the way a man looks at me that lets me know just what’s on his mind. I took a few more bites of my fruit salad, sipped my glass of water with lemon, then slowly got up to leave. I watched him eye me as I slipped my poncho over my head. I flirted with him with my eyes, then smiled. He smiled. I winked and blew him a kiss, then turned on my heels and sashayed toward the exit, lookin’ back to catch him with his eyes glued to my ass. I smiled again, then strutted out the door.

  Then the next two mornins I did the same shit, eyein’ him real sexy, lickin’ my lips and whatnot, baitin’ his ass, then gettin’ up and leavin’ abruptly. I was fuckin’ with the muhfucka, lettin’ him know what was really good without words. And he obviously heard me, ’cause on the fourth day, he got up from his seat, walked over to my table, and spoke. That’s right, big daddy, come on over to lil’ momma.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  I let my eyes linger over his body, focused on the center of his crotch, then slowly looked up into his eyes. “Not at all,” I said, smilin’.

  He went back to get his things, then returned to my table and sat across from me. “So, tell me,” he said, leanin’ forward in his seat and restin’ his elbows on the table. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing here all by herself?”

  I stared into his eyes. Although I knew they were brown, they almost looked black. And they sparkled. I noticed specks of gray in his mustache and beard. Damn, this old nigga was fine.

  “Waitin’ for a man like you,” I said as I licked my lips.

  He smiled, blushin’ ’n shit. “Is that so?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Stanley,” he said, stickin’ his hand out to me. I allowed my hand to get lost in his grip. Hmm…I can’t wait to feel them big hands squeezin’ this ass, I thought.

  And I’m horny. I smiled. “Natasha,” I offered. Then we spent the next thirty minutes talkin’. He was an architect from Upper Marlboro, Maryland, and had been in San Diego for over a week. Although I was actin’ like I was really listenin’ to him while he rattled on ’bout his corny-ass architecture conference, I wasn’t beat. I nodded and smiled, and gave him what looked like my undivided attention. But the only thing on my mind was tryna figure out how I was gonna get into his room, get at his dick, then shut his lights. I ain’t gonna front, his deep Barry White-soundin’ voice had my pussy lips flappin’ open. But the nigga—fine and all—was a fuckin’ bore. And that’s capital, B-O-R-E. Humph…I could see why his wife divorced his tired ass. I tried so fuckin’ hard to look interested in him goin’ on and on ’bout his buildin’ designs and his love for classical and jazz music. Oh my God, I wanted to splatter his fuckin’ brains right there on the spot.

  About another ten minutes into the conversation, I got up and excused myself to go to the bathroom. I had to put this muhfucka outta his misery quick. I looked under the two stalls to make sure no one else was around, then flipped open the Kat line and called Cash.

  “Yo, what’s good? You take care of that, yet?”

  “Tonight,” I said.

  “Cool. Make it happen,” he replied. “You the only one takin’ three and four days to handle ya business, tryna make vacations out the shit. I want this square handled tonight, Kat; you holdin’ my peoples up with ya bullshit.”

  I sucked my teeth, rollin’ my eyes. “I said tonight, nigga. Damn. Look, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

  “Don’t—” Click. I disconnected the call, walkin’ outta the bathroom back to the table.

  “Sorry ’bout that,” I said, sittin’ back down. I glanced around the room and noticed there were hardly any people there. Good. The fewer people who see us talkin’ the better, I thought.

  He was sippin’ on his second cup of coffee. He set his cup down and smiled. “No problem. So…you never said what brings you to beautiful San Diego.”

  You, muhfucka, I thought. “Change of scenery,” I told his ass, lickin’ my neatly painted lips.

  “Is that right?”

  I nodded, keepin’ my gaze on him.

  “So, is this change for business or pleasure?”

  I eyed him real sexy-like, then slowly licked my lips again. “Both,” I answered, claspin’ my hands together on the table. I leaned in. “Listen. Let me ask you this to get it outta the way before I go any further with this. You married? ’Cause I ain’t lookin’ for no drama from the Mrs.” Ev
en though I usually know the answer to this question, I always like askin’ just to see what a nigga’s gonna say. Nine times outta ten, the muhfucka’s gonna lie outta his ass.

  “Divorced,” he stated. “And you?”

  “Besides bein’ very horny, I’m single.”

  He laughed. “Interesting combination,” he said, starin’ at my titties. I stuck my chest out more, givin’ him a better view.

  “They feel even better,” I told him.

  He let out a nervous chuckle, then cleared his throat. “I guess you can say I’m weak for…uh, a beautiful woman.” Like most muhfuckas, I thought. He glanced at his watch. “Oh, shoot. I gotta get going. I wish I could stay longer and talk, but I gotta swing past my room before my conference starts. How ’bout we get together tonight; say, like, eight? And we can finish where we left off.”

  I decided I had better go for the kill, and let his ass know what it was. “If we get together tonight, talkin’ is not what I’m lookin’ for.” I leaned in, lowerin’ my voice. “A thick dick is. Can you help me with that?”

  He grinned, but I could tell I had caught his ass off guard. “I think I might be able to figure out something without much talk.”

  “Then I promise to make it a night you’ll never forget.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, it is. I just hope you can handle a young bit—chick like me.”

  He stood up, smilin’. “Oh, I’m sure I can handle it. Eight o’clock good?”

  Yeah, muhfucka, it’s good. You just make sure that dick is good. I licked my lips. “I can hardly wait.”

  He leaned into me, then whispered into my ear, “Room 110. See you tonight.”

  I smiled, slowly noddin’ my head. “Yes, you will, daddy. Yes, indeed you will.”

  For the rest of the day, I lounged ’round the pool, took a nap, then went downtown to take in the sights. I even tried one of them fish tacos e’eryone said I had to try. Yeah, okay? I’m still tryna figure out what the hype was all about. Chunks of cod fish, shredded cabbage, and a bunch of white cream stuffed in a tortilla didn’t do it for a bitch like me.