The Kat Trap

14

At 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."