The Kat Trap (15 page)

“Nah, not really. I mean, there’s a few. But it ain’t that serious.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, half-believin’ him. It wasn’t like I was tryna
make him my man. Hell, he could fuck whoever he wanted. I just wanted to test ride the dick for myself. But, still, a bitch wanted to know how he did him. “So, how many baby mamas you got?”

“None.”

“How many bitches you fuckin’?”

“Two.”

“Oh, and what…you tryna add me to the list?”

“Maybe,” he said, glancin’ over at me. I smiled. I was really diggin’ him. “Why you smilin’?”

I slowly shook my head. “I don’t share.”

He grinned. “Oh, so what you sayin’, you tryna have me all to yourself?”

“Maybe,” I said, lickin’ my lips and starin’ at him real sexy-like, “maybe not.”

“Yeah, aiight.” He laughed, weavin’ in and outta traffic through midtown. “You got a lotta shit with you, but it’s all good.”

I smiled, but said nothin’. The rest of the ride we were both silent, listenin’ to the music ’til he turned down Lexington. I peeped Bloomingdale’s on Fifty-Ninth, and automatically knew where we were headed: Mr. Chow’s, my all time fav Eastside spot where fashionistas, money-makers, and celebs frequented, and the food was bangin’. Yeah, it was pricey, and definitely not a spot for a penny-pincher, but it was well worth it. I smiled, thinkin’ ’bout the last time I was there, sittin’ two tables away from Beyoncé and Jay-Z. And four tables over was the one and only Donald Trump, politickin’ with a group of associates. Oh, yes, it was definitely a spot for a bitch like me—rich and beautiful. “Hmmm…how’d you know I like Chinese?”

“I don’t know, educated guess. You seemed like a Peking duck kinda chick.”

I laughed. “Yeah, okay. I got ya duck, alright.”

He laughed with me. “As long as I can have it with sauce, I’ll take it however you got it.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, grinnin’. “I bet you will.”

After he parked across the street, he opened the door to let me out, then grabbed my hand and held it as we walked up to the restaurant. Once we were seated and our food finally came to our table, a bitch was so fuckin’ hungry I coulda ate a horse. I had the chicken satay appetizers and shrimp toast with the bangin’ sweet brown sauce, then the spicy green shrimp. Grant had the shrimp with glazed walnuts and crunchy seaweed and chicken skewers. We ate, drank, and laughed like we had known each other for years. By the time we finished our third drink, I learned he was born in Hollis, Queens, but was raised in Newark. Played football in high school, and went to college on a football scholarship, but dropped out after his second year when he got hurt and couldn’t play ball anymore. He had three brothers and two sisters and was the middle child. He was twenty-eight and was ready to settle down.

I ain’t gonna front, the nigga made me feel real comfortable. He was smooth and sexy and so damn fuckable. And let me tell you. After three glasses of Pinot Grigio, a bitch wanted somethin’ more than that light, fruity shit. A blunt and some Rémy XO woulda really set it off and had me lifted and right. But I kept it cute, and sipped on the rest of my wine, grinnin’ and flirtin’ and buildin’ with this fine-ass nigga in front of me. He grinned back and we both already knew what it was.
Yeah, muhfucka, I’ma have my pussy all over ya face in no time.

After we finished dessert and another round of drinks, Grant paid the bill, then took my hand and led me out the door. His
big, warm hand made my pussy tingle. And as soon as we got back into his whip, he reached over and started kissin’ all over my neck and rubbin’ my titties and circlin’ my nipple with his thumb. My nipples hardened and I let out a moan. It felt like a bitch’s whole body was bein’ electrocuted. Sparks shot through me. His hands were big, strong, and soft…and his touch was sendin’ a bitch over the edge. I had to stop him before I ended up fuckin’ him in the front seat of his whip. My mind was tellin’ me to push him off me, but my body was in need of a thug-nigga’s touch. It had been so fuckin’ long since a bitch had a real nigga slay this pussy. I couldn’t think straight.

Since the only niggas I’ve fucked and sucked for the last four years have been the ones I’ve slumped, fuckin’ them allowed me to get my nut off and not have to worry ’bout a nigga puttin’ me on front street. Murkin’ their asses made fuckin’ them that much easier. They’d take my slutty deeds to their graves.

I know I’m a ho like the next bitch, but…fuck! Not on the first date. Not in the front seat of a car. Not in a parking lot. No. No. No. No. I heard the words in my head, but can’t remember sayin’ them. A bitch became a fuckin’ mute. My tongue was stuck in the back of my throat, right where I wanted his dick to be.
Oh…my…God!

He nibbled on my chin, lightly brushed his thick, soft lips against mine, then pulled away, flickin’ the tip of his tongue against my upper lip. “I better get you home,” he finally said in his deep, sexy voice. Just like that! He had a bitch’s thong drenched. Had her pussy cracklin’, and…“I better get you home” is what he hits me with. What the fuck?!

Oh, no this nigga didn’t,
I thought, pressin’ the heat from my pussy shut between my legs.
This nigga is teasin’ me.
He went to
start the ignition, and before I knew what was happenin’, a bitch had climbed up on him and straddled his lap, and was tonguin’ him
down
, and grindin’ my pussy into him. I sucked on his long tongue like it was a dick, twirlin’ my tongue around his. I hadn’t kissed a real nigga in
years
and…his lips, my lips, his tongue, my tongue…made my body shiver. He started thrustin’ his hips up into my pussy, grabbed hold of my ass with both of his hands and started squeezin’.

“I wanna fuck,” I whispered in his ear. “You got a bitch on fire.” I sucked on his earlobe, traced his ear with my tongue.

“Yeah, baby,” he moaned. His head was pressed back on his headrest, and his eyes were half-closed as his fingas found the center of my wet pussy. He slid his hand under my dress and pulled at the string of my thong. He slid one finga, then two, inside my slit.

I moaned. “Mmm…you got some thick fingas.”

“That’s not the only thing thick,” he said in between soft, warm kisses on my lips.

“That’s what ya mouth says.”

“And that’s what my dick says.”

His fingas stirred my hole. “Deeper,” I said. Twinge of desire shot from my asshole all the way to my clit, like sparks. The steam from my pussy could have fogged up the tinted windows. I arched my back, pressin’ up against the leather steerin’ wheel. I reached underneath me and felt the thickness of his dick pressin’ against his slacks. He was stirrin’ my pussy up just right, and I was on my way to bustin’ a thick nut. My body started buckin’. “Mmmmm…you wanna feed me that dick, daddy?”

“Yeah, baby.” He brushed his lips against mine, losin’ his fingas in my wetness. I moaned again. “That’s right, baby. Bust that nut
for daddy; wet daddy’s fingers.” I clenched his fingas with my pussy, started grindin’ deep and hard on his hand, bit him on his bottom lip, and nutted all over his fingas. Sweat dripped from my face.

“Damn, you got a a nice, hot pussy.” He smiled, pullin’ his cummy fingas from outta my hole. Then he fucked a bitch up when he stuck them in his mouth and sucked the cream off ’em. “Mmmm…and it tastes like honey, too.” He kissed me on the lips, then stuck his fingas in my mouth. He watched me, grinnin’ as I sucked them down to the knuckles. I ran my tongue in between each one, then climbed off him and sat back in my seat. My nut ran down between my legs as I shifted in my seat, tryna fix my short dress so my wet ass wouldn’t stick to his leather seats.

I flipped down the visor to check my face. I smiled. Sweaty and all, a bitch’s face was still in place. “Shit,” I said. “This was a real bird move.”

“What?” he asked, startin’ the ignition and pullin’ outta the space.

“Lettin’ you run ya fingas all up in me.”

“Nah, baby,” he said real easy-like, lookin’ over at me. “It’s all good. You ain’t rustlin’ no feathers. This was just the beginning of what’s to come. You’se a real dime. And I’m tryna be the man you need. Real talk.”

I smiled. “Oh yeah. And what makes ya think I need a man?”

He grinned. “’Cause ya body told me all I needed to know.”

I sucked my teeth. “Whatever, nigga!” I snapped, playfully hittin’ him on the arm.

He bust out laughin’, makin’ his way back to my spot.

A
t ten a.m. the followin’ mornin’, I was sittin’ in my office lookin’ at the flick of my next target. He was a nice-lookin’ older cat with a full beard, a thick nose, and full lips. I read his stats:
48, 5’10”, 198 pounds, divorced. Hmm,
I thought, tossin’ his photo on my desk.
I wonder if I should fuck him or just suck his old-ass dick.
I already knew if his ass had a bunch of extra skin flappin’ ’round his cock, I wouldn’t be suckin’ on shit.

I got up and walked to my master bathroom and turned on the shower, then went into one of my bedroom walk-ins and pulled down my yellow Tumi bag. I tossed some wears and cosmetics in the bag before goin’ back into the bathroom to shower. My flight to San Diego was at one-thirty, and I needed to get ready to make my way to the airport.

At four-forty their time, I landed at San Diego International Airport. After I got my bag, I headed toward the shuttle bus to pick up my rental—a burgundy Toyota Corolla. My destination was the Humphries Half Moon Inn & Suites on Shelter Island. My mark was conveniently stayin’ there for some type of week-long business conference and typically stayed in his rooms alone, so unless he was totally committed in a relationship, or was strictly suckin’ dick, enticin’ him with a dish of this deep pussy would be easy, just the way I liked it. On some crazy shit, I often
wondered what I’d do if one of my targets proved to be a bit more challengin’ than I hoped for and refused a bitch some dick. Unfortunately, I’d have to go into plan B: straight sharp-shoot his ass on the spot, then peel rubber. Ugh, that’d be some real borin’ shit!

Ten minutes later, I was turnin’ onto Shelter Island Drive and slowly makin’ my way to the hotel. When I saw the entrance, I pulled into the packed parkin’ lot and strutted my way to the front desk. Keepin’ shit real, I was really diggin’ the hotel’s layout. All these big tropical trees and exotic flowers ’n shit had me thinkin’ I was in some kinda paradise or somethin’. The receptionist smiled as I walked through the slidin’ glass doors.

“Hello, welcome to Humphries Half Moon Inn and Suites.”

“Hi, I’d like to check in.”

“Sure, your name, please?” I smiled and gave her one of my aliases. For this trip, I was Natasha Simmons. I handed her my fake ID. The room, as with all the others, was already paid for through Cash. Don’t ask how, ’cause on some real shit, I’ve never asked, and I honestly didn’t give a shit how or what he did to make it happen; or where and how he got his connects. I was only ’bout the business of killin’, feel me? All that extra shit was of no concern to me.

“Oh, yes, Ms. Simmons,” she stated, clickin’ the keyboard with her thin fingas. “Here you are. We have you in one of our marina-view suites. I think you’ll find it to be lovely as it overlooks the marina and the tropical garden. And at night, you’ll be able to see downtown San Diego. Will you need more than one key?”

Bitch, save all the goddamn extras and just give me my fuckin’ room key.
I forced a smile. “Sounds wonderful. Umm, no. One key will be fine.” I signed the printout.

“Here you go,” she said, handin’ me the key. “You’re in Marina Suite 105.” She pointed in the direction I should go. “It’s out this door to the left, then around the side on your left. You can go all the way around the building, or you can cut through the garden pathway. Oh, I almost forgot. We have a package here for you. Hold on. I’ll go get it.” She went into a back office, and reappeared a few seconds later with a medium-sized box.

“Thanks,” I said. It was already close to seven-thirty, and a bitch was starvin’, not to mention tired. I wasn’t plannin’ to slump my mark until tomorrow so I had some time to chill. In the meantime, I was gonna jump in the shower, then head to the mall and grab a bite to eat. “Oh, and can you tell me where your nearest mall is? Something with high-end fashion.”

Chick’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you want to go to the Fashion Valley Mall. It’s in Mission Valley off Friars Road. Here, let me write down the directions. It’ll take you about fifteen minutes to get there, but they have some fabulous stores.”

“Perfect,” I said, takin’ the directions from her.

Once I got to my suite, I tossed my bags onto the extra bed, then looked out on the triangular-shaped patio to enjoy the view. Since I was already pressed for time, I decided to head to the mall, shop a bit, then find somethin’ to eat. If the opportunity to meet my mark presented itself, I’d fuck him tonight, then again tomorrow before I shut his lights. I stepped back into the room, closin’ and lockin’ the patio door, then headed out the door.

By eight-fifteen, I was walkin’ through Bloomingdale’s on my way to the Louis Vuitton store in search of somethin’ hot. I wanted to slay them bitches back home with a cute bag or a slammin’ pair of heels. My cell started ringin’.

I reached into my chocolate Bottega Veneta and pulled it out.
It was Chanel. “What’s good, tramp?” I said, forgettin’ my destination and goin’ toward Saks Fifth Avenue instead.

“Shit. Where you?”

“At the mall,” I said.

“Ooh, bitch,” she replied. “Which one, Paramus or Short Hills?”

“Neither,” I said.

She sucked her teeth. “Well, which one then? Shit. You coulda hit me up to roll with ya ass. You know I can always use a new pair of heels. You stay tryna dip on a bitch.”

“Whatever, ho,” I said, laughin’. “I’m at Fashion Valley Mall, and the shit is
fiiiyah.
They got some—”

“Fashion what? Is that some new shit in Jersey?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, bitch,” I said. “San Diego.”

She sucked her teeth, laughin’.
“San Diego?
What the hell?! I swear ya ass down with the secret society or some shit, as much shit you keep on the low. When you gonna be home?”

“In a few days,” I said, runnin’ my hands over this bangin’-ass black Donna Karan wrap-and-tie jersey dress. I looked at the tag: $2,495.00. Now the old me woulda boosted the shit quick, fast, and in a muthafuckin’ hurry; I’da had that dress plucked from its hanger. “Listen, ho. I’m tryna get my shop on. I’ll hit you back when I touch.”

“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.