The Kat Trap Page 5

  “Thanks,” I said, disconnectin’ the call. I grabbed my purse and keys and headed for the door. I had someplace to be, someone to see, and a bullet to serve.

  By the time I got to the Bucktown section of Chicago—an old warehouse district that had been rehabbed and turned into dance clubs and fly-ass lofts—it was almost ten forty-five. I pulled up in the parkin’ area of this trendy spot Aqua, where my unsuspectin’ victim would be. Not only was he a compulsive gambler, word had it he had a thing for pretty young girls, particularly black and Latin chicks. And since he couldn’t keep his pecker in his pants, his wife probably wanted his ass ghost so she could collect on a million-dollar insurance policy he had. The bitch felt she deserved that and then some due to his years of cheatin’ on her ass. Whateva! I wanted this shit to be over, and the sooner the better.

  I stepped out of my rental rockin’ a fly-ass hot pants jumpsuit and a pair of knee-high Gucci boots with stiletto heels. My hair was braided and tucked under a long black wig with short bangs. I made sure to rock something that flowed almost past my ass to give the illusion that I was one of them exotic bitches, which wasn’t really hard to do since I already had the look.

  When I walked into the club, I was surprised to see that this spot had a mixed crowd. I knew a bitch was gonna be all up in a lily-white shit hole with a bunch of snuff-chewin’ hillbillies. Even the music was cute. I circled the club, scannin’ the area in search of my mark. There were three bars and two dance floors, and the place was packed. Shit, I thought, I could be here all fuckin’ night lookin for this brown-toothed, limp dick nigga. All eyes were on me as I made my way to the bar where I positioned myself so I had full view of the floor.

  An hour goes by and I’m gettin’ real sick of this postin’ up at the bar and havin’ all these duck-ass niggas tryna spit weak-ass game. The cat I’m lookin’ for is nowhere to be found, and I was startin’ to get vexed. But a bitch like me knows how to keep it cute. So I shook my ass a tease to get into the groove of shit. I almost wanted to hit the dance floor to pop my hips and toss a few drinks instead of sippin’ on my flat-assed Coke. But I was there on business and drinkin’ on the job was a no-no. I was so fuckin’ ready to blow dust on the spot.

  Well, as I’m ’bout to go into plan B, I turn to my left and there in all of his pasty-faced glory is my mark, dressed in all black, wearin’ a slick-ass pair of Dolce & Gabbana shades with his stringy-ass hair pulled back in a shiny ponytail, makin’ his way toward the bar and me. I turned around real slow and sexy-like, then leaned over the bar enough to allow my ass cheeks to peek from underneath the edges of my eighteen-hundred-dollar jumper. I shook my ass to the music, then gave the horny-ass niggas somethin’ to go home and beat their dicks to. I could feel his eyes zoomin’ in on my juicy ass. Here kitty, kitty…that’s right…come to momma, muhfucka…

  “What is a pretty young lady like you drinking tonight?”

  I turned around, scanned this crab nigga real easy, then parted a phony-ass smile. “If I tell you, I might hafta kill you,” I said, lettin’ a sly grin spread across my face. He blinked, blinked again, then had the muthafuckin’ audacity to show me his shit-stained teeth, cheesin’ ear-to-ear. Ugh! I’ma blast this nigga’s grill out, I thought.

  “As pretty as you are,” he said, eyein’ me like he hit Lotto, “I’ll take my chances.”

  “A risk taker,” I said, matchin’ his stare. “I like that.”

  “I only bet on sure things, baby. And I’d bet my life you’re a winner.”

  “Your life?” I asked.

  “Yeah, my life,” he repeated.

  Then your life it is, muhfucka. I smiled.

  “Now, what can I get the beautiful lady?”

  I went in for the kill. I licked my lips real slow and sexy-like and stared him down, before glancin’ down at his crotch. I let the nigga see I was checkin’ for his dick. “What I want, they’re not servin’ at the bar.”

  “In that case,” he said, droolin’ like a fuckin’ hound dog, “I know someplace that is.” He leaned in my ear and told me the room number to where he was stayin’, then told me to meet him there in an hour, and to knock three times. I bounced from the club, switchin’ my ass all the way out the door. When I got to my rental and was behind the wheel, I flipped open my cell and called Cash.

  “What’s good?”

  “I’m restin’ at the downtown Hyatt. Checkin’ in ’bout an hour, then headin’ out in forty.”

  “Bet. Enjoy your stay.”

  “I always do.”

  At one a.m., I dipped into the Hyatt Regency wearin’ a black micro-mini dress and a pair of six-inch slingbacks, struttin’ toward the elevators. When I got to the door, I knocked three times as instructed. He opened the door wearin’ a white hotel robe, and his stringy hair was all over his head. His eyes were glazed. The pale-faced nigga looked coked the fuck out. But it was all good. I was gonna make this short and sweet. I gave myself ten minutes to stretch his ass, then bounce.

  “Can I get you something?” he asked, shuttin’ the door behind him. I walked over to the window and admired the view. His suite was overlookin’ Lake Michigan, and the shit was sexy as hell. It was a perfect night to be fucked real rough out on the balcony, but definitely not with this trailer-park nigga. However, he did have me curious. I wanted to see if he had a little pink dick with a bunch of extra skin or not, before I blasted his ass. I glanced down at my watch. I had thirty-four minutes to spare. So, I changed plans.

  “Yeah,” I said, turnin’ around to face him, “you can take off that corny-ass robe and let me see you jerk that dick while I play in my pussy, then I’ma let you fuck me deep in my fat, black ass.” Lies!

  He opened his beady eyes in shock, then smiled. Ugh!

  “Don’t play like you don’t know what time it is,” I said. “Why else you invite me up to your suite? To fuck this sweet, chocolate pussy with the creamy pink center, right?”

  He licked his crusty-ass lips. The nigga looked like he was ’bout ready to nut on himself. He broke out into another one of his shitty smiles.

  “You get right to the point. I like that.”

  “Life is too short to be wastin’ time,” I said, droppin’ my bag into the green high-back chair, then pullin’ my dress up over my hips, and slowly turnin’ around. I bent over and slapped my ass, then pulled it open. “You ever see an ass this big before?” I asked him, lookin’ at him over my shoulder.

  He shook his head, runnin’ his long tongue over his rusty lips. “No, can’t say that I have.”

  “Then you ain’t had no good ass until you had some black ass.” I walked over to him and undid his robe. His dick was hard, and to my fuckin’ surprise ’bout as thick as a cucumber. The nigga actually had a pretty dick for a white man, and if his face wasn’t so busted, I probably woulda fucked him just for the hell of it. Not! I grabbed him by the base of his hard cock, glidin’ my hand up to his mushroom head, pullin’ him toward the bed. “Then, it looks like tonight’s your lucky night. Now, lie back and beat that big white dick for me.”

  He sat on the edge of the bed, spread open his legs, then leaned back on one elbow, strokin’ his dick. The more he stroked, the longer his dick got. “I want you to turn the light on over there on the table, then sit across from me and play in that sweet black pussy for me. Let me see you finger-fuck that pussy.”

  I smiled. “Oh, you wanna see how wet this pussy gets?” I asked, walkin’ over toward my bag. I dropped it to the floor, then sat down, danglin’ one leg over the arm of the chair. I glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand: 1:18. Shit, I gotta hurry, I thought, rubbin’ my pussy. “Oooh, you gotta big dick,” I moaned. “You wanna put that big white dick in this fat black pussy. You wanna fuck this tight pussy? You wanna eat this sweet pussy?”

  “Yeah,” he grunted, jackin’ his dick fast and furious.

  “Yeah, daddy, just like that…Mmmm. You wanna stick your tongue in my ass? Ooh, it feels sooo good,” I said, pullin’ open my pus
sy. “Look at this wet, pink pussy…”

  The nigga was practically shakin’ and droolin’, pumpin’ his dick in ’n out of his grungy hands, starin’ at my pretty pussy.

  His dick seemed to get thicker with each stroke. He was ugly as fuck, but his dick…humph, that thick, white dick and his fat, smooth balls had me wantin’ to do some freaky thangs to his ass. The thought of handcuffin’ and blindfoldin’ him, then sittin’ down on his dick and milkin’ it with my pussy had me goin’. My hole was gettin’ real hot. I dipped my finga in my slit. My shit was drippin’. “Close ya eyes, muhfucka, and make believe it’s my lips wrapped around that big white dick, nigga.”

  He closed his eyes, and in that split second, I quickly reached down into my bag and pulled out my black silencer gun and stuck it behind my back.

  “Oooh, you got my pussy so wet. Stroke that dick, daddy. You want me on my knees suckin’ that dick?”

  “Yeah, baby. I want them pretty dick-sucking lips all over this fat white cock. Turn off that light and bring your pretty black ass over here and suck all over this dick, you sexy black bitch.” Oh, yeah, you definitely ’bout to get ya fronts knocked for that, cracker bastard!

  “That’s right, talk nasty, muhfucka,” I said, reachin’ over and turnin’ off the light, then slowly walkin’ over to him. The only light in the room was comin’ from the bathroom. Just enough to make this scumbag nigga look like a damn glowworm. I eyed the digital clock: 1:32. I had eight minutes. “Lay back and close ya eyes, muhfucka. I got something real hot for ya ass.”

  Theesssrrpp! Before the back of his head made it to the bed, I had shot him in it. “That’s for ya wife, nigga.” I slammed the barrel in his mouth. Theesssrrpp! “And that’s for ya dentist, muhfucka.” Blood gushed out from the back of his head, soaking up the bed. Theessrrpp! I shot him in his balls. “And that’s for the black bitch, sucka.” I was glad the only thing I touched besides his dick was the lamp, which I went back over and wiped before leavin’ his ass splayed out on the edge of the bed with his brains oozin’ outta his skull and less than a minute to spare.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Gotta nigga on lock with this pussy heat…gotta sick head game that’ll make the cock spit. Rockin’ ya sheets…Got ya nigga clockin’ me…tryna make a bitch nut lickin’ the clit. Got ya nigga suckin’ my tit…cum, nigga, cum…roll ya eyes up in ya head while I lap ya balls and wet ya dick…cum, nigga, cum…

  Ten a.m. the followin’ mornin’, I was at Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, pickin’ up my rental, then headin’ toward the Buckhead section of Atlanta. I hated Atlanta. It was hot, muggy, and had more fuckin’ traffic than a bitch could stand. I wanted to get to my hotel room, take another shower, and chill.

  Two hours later, I was showered, changed, and struttin’ through Lenox Square Mall loaded down with some bangin’ shit outta Hermès, St. John Boutique, and Louis Vuitton. A few niggas tried to holla at a bitch, but I kept it movin’. I ain’t gonna front, they were fine as hell, but they had the game fucked up if they thought I wasn’t up on Hotlanta being the capital for dick-lovin’, fudge-packin’ niggas. Fuck what ya heard. I like my niggas strictly ’bout lickin’ the clit and smashin’ the pussy. I ain’t got no time tryna play the guessin’ game of who’s on the creep suckin’ dick and takin’ it in the ass, that shit’s for the birds. And I ain’t the one! So, nigga, is you crazy?! Hell no, you can’t get my muthafuckin’ number. Ugh!

  I glanced at my timepiece. It was almost two-thirty. I still had a few hours to kill before I made it do what it do. I hated when time dragged. I was so ready to get this shit over with. I began to tingle and get moist between my legs tingled, thinkin’ ’bout that big-lipped nigga suckin’ on my titties, and lappin’ and slappin’ my clit with his tongue. I couldn’t wait to serve him a dish of this pussy.

  When I finally finished shoppin’, then gettin’ over to UPS to have my shit shipped to Jersey, it was already five-thirty in the evening. A bitch was beat, and needed to take another long, hot shower, then catch a quick nap. I liked bein’ well-rested and alert when doin’ a job. As far as I was concerned, to be aware was to be alive. Bein’ a tired bitch opened the door for mistakes, and a half-assed job. A sloppy bitch was a liability.

  No sooner had I gotten out of my clothes and was makin’ my way to the bathroom, when my private cell phone rang. I pulled it outta my red Hèrmes bag, then peeped the caller ID. It was Chanel.

  “Hey tramp. What’s good?” I asked, starin’ at myself from the side in the hangin’ wall mirror. Fuck a J-Lo, Beyoncé, or any of them wannabe-fab, stankin’ video hoes shakin’ and poppin’ their asses. I knew I had a bangin’-ass body. If I were a clit and pussy licker, I’d bury my face all up in this fat ass. I ain’t no nigga but I ain’t gonna front, if I had a dick, I’d fuck myself silly.

  “You trick. Where you at?”

  “I’m outta town, why?”

  She sucked her teeth. “Ho, you stay goin’ somewhere.”

  “Don’t hate, bitch. Instead of lyin’ on ya back fuckin’ them broke-ass niggas, step ya game up.” Chanel and I were probably the tightest outta our crew. We lived and grew up in the same building across the hall from each other, and were both the only children of single moms who were Spanish, though her mother was full Puerto Rican. And they had both gotten knocked by a stiff black dick, so we shared a special connection and understanding of each other. It didn’t hurt that she was also a fly chick with curly brown ringlets that bounced off her shoulders when she walked. And her body was almost as tight as mine. With her beautiful caramel-coated complexion, big brown doe-like eyes, and a beauty mole bitches dream of having over the right corner of her full lips, she looked fresh off the cover of a damn magazine. Chick was definitely a dime; but not quite as hot as me. I ain’t hatin’. I’m just sayin’. That’s my girl, fuck what ya heard. I’m keepin’ shit real. Still at the end of the day, if I wasn’t mad cool with her ass, or if I was one of them weak bitches worried ’bout the next bitch, chick could and would be a serious problem.

  “I hate ya stank ass,” she said, laughin’. “Ain’t nobody fuckin’ no broke niggas.”

  “Oh, I forgot. They ain’t broke. Them niggas cheap as hell!”

  “Least I’m fuckin’. Shit. You still ridin’ them fingas.”

  “Yep, I sure am,” I snapped, laughin’. “And them fingas know how to push the button and keep my pussy wet; and I ain’t got to worry ’bout some nigga short-changin’ me, either. Now, what’s your excuse, ho? And what you want, anyway?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah…whatever! Anyway, I was callin’ ya ass to see if you wanna meet up for drinks tonight, but since you all ghost on a bitch, scratch it. Hit me up when you touch Jersey.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

  “So, what’s good with that nigga pushin’ the Bentley? He get at you yet, or what?”

  “Nah,” I lied. Yeah, she my girl and all, but her pussy gets wet like mines. And chick likes to fuck like the next bitch. I had already peeped how she was tryna clock him in the club and out in the parkin’ lot, so I already know what time it is. Until a nigga’s ya man, it’s open season. And a bitch in heat is always lookin’ for prey. She don’t care who else got their eye on it, get caught sleepin’ and she’s gonna swoop down on the dick and take ya spot. A hood bitch is always schemin’. It is what it is. “If he calls, he calls. If not, it’s whatever,” I said, sittin’ at the foot of the king-sized bed. I leaned back on my forearm, then spread open my legs to let the cool air in the room hit my pussy. My nipples got hard as ice.

  “I heard that. But the nigga was fine. And you can’t tell me you ain’t wonderin’ how the dick’s hangin’.”

  “Actually, I’m not,” I said, lyin’ outta my ass, ’cause on some real shit, I already knew I was gonna fuck him the first chance I got. But since e’erything ain’t for e’erybody, there was no need for her to know that. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back tryna imagine him between my legs long strokin’ this tight puss
y. I ran my hand over my slit, then teased my clit with my two fingas.

  “Girl, I don’t know why not. That’s the first thing I thought when I peeped him. The nigga looks like he got some bangin’ dick. You need to stop frontin’ and go ’head get you a taste.”

  See, I learned a long time ago that sometimes ya gotta know when to sit back, keep ya grill shut, and listen. Let a bitch flap her jaws ’cause if ya listen long and hard enough, she’s gonna slip up. “Hmm…maybe,” I said, pullin’ my fingas outta my pussy and off my clit, then lickin’ ’em. “But since you sound so ready to ride his dick down into the mattress, I’ma tell ya what. How ’bout you fuck him and let me know what’s really good.”

  “If ya don’t want ’em, I might,” she said, gigglin’. I didn’t even know the nigga, didn’t even know if he was a good fuck or not, and for some reason I was startin’ to get vexed that this bitch was seriously thinkin’—or fuckin’ jokin—’bout tryna get at him. But I kept my shit in check, and let her ass keep talkin’.

  “Well, the nigga ain’t my man,” I admitted. “It’s open invitation, right? So do you.”

  “Nah, girl, you know I don’t get down like that. I’d never do you like that. Another bitch, most def. But you my muthafuckin’ peeps. You can try ’n front if ya want, but I know you was clockin’ his ass. But, I ain’t gonna front. A bitch could really use an upgrade on some dick ’cause Divine’s shit ain’t hittin’ on nuthin’. The dick is thick as hell, but the nigga nuts in like six minutes. And he can’t eat pussy to save his natural black ass. I swear if it wasn’t for him payin’ the note on this truck, I’d dismiss his ass.”

  I rolled my eyes up in my head. I hated when a chick dissed a nigga who was takin’ care of her ass. Lousy fuck or not, a bitch needs to know when to keep her mouth shut. What might be a whack piece of dick to her, may be exactly what the next bitch needs to get off. I tell ya, some bitches ’bout as dumb as they come. They really think a wicked head game and a deep pussy is gonna put them on top. Yeah, maybe for a minute, but ya best believe once the verdict is out on the streets that ya ass is a trick, ya rep is a wrap. Believe that. Real niggas ain’t tryna wife no hoes. Yeah, he gonna fuck her, might even splash up in her raw. He might even keep her laced in the hottest shit, but at the end of the day, she still gonna be a damn ho to him, real talk. And niggas run their mouths worse than bitches, especially when it comes to who’s suckin’ ’n fuckin’ who.