The Kat Trap

by Cairo

  “Oh word,” he said, soundin’ all excited ’n shit. “You already know what it is. Whenever you want it, me and this big, black dick are ready for ya fine ass.”

  “Whatever, nigga. Just get the rest of my paper to me.”

  He burst out laughin’, then got all serious ’n shit with me. “Listen, Kat, on some real shit. No matter how hard you may want to, you can’t run from this. It’s in ya blood, baby. I knew that shit the moment I peeped you housin’ that bitch on the floor at the Brooklyn Café; the minute you said you was gonna take it to her throat if she ever came at you again. I knew then. It was in ya eyes, Kat.

  “It’s twisted muhfuckas like you and me who can do this shit in our sleep. It takes a cold, vengeful, mean-streaked muhfucka to look a nigga dead in his eyes, then smoke his ass and never blink. Somewhere in our twisted minds, we think ain’t shit wrong with takin’ a muhfucka out. And what keeps us doin’ this sick shit is the fact that we like takin’ chances, livin’ on the edge, thinkin’ we’ll never get caught. Killin’ is ya callin’, baby. You’ll be back. And when you ready, I’ma be here waitin’ for ya.”

  Crazy thing, the nigga was right. It was in my blood. The thrill of the kill turned a bitch on. It overshadowed the risks. But it cost me somethin.’ It cost me what was startin’ to feel like love, and the chance to finally be free.

  I didn’t say shit else. I hung up and drove in silence, sparkin’ the half blunt that was in my ashtray. I took two long, deep pulls, then exhaled. I turned on the CD player, then pressed disc four. Lauryn Hill’s “Peace of Mind” blared through the speakers. I smoked and listened, lettin’ her words fill the car along with the weed smoke. Finally, a bitch broke down and cried—hard, clutchin’ the steerin’ wheel. Snot and spit was flyin’ e’erywhere. I cried for all the shit I kept locked inside of me over the years. But most of all, I cried knowin’ that no matter how much I might wanna walk away, in my heart, I knew a bitch like me would never have peace of mind. I knew the Kat Trap would be open again, and I’d fuck another nigga and smoke his ass with no hesitation; with no regret, and no fuckin’ remorse. And with the promise of good pussy, a slow wet dick suck, and toe-curling orgasms, another muhfucka would be lured into his grave. ’Cause I was that bitch!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Cairo resides in New Jersey, where he is finishing up his next two literary creations, The Man Handler, and Daddy Long Stroke. His travels to Egypt are what inspired his pen name. You can email him at: cairo2u@verizon.net