Cairo: Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

He’s rockin’ a black True Religion long sleeve tee wit’ the front tucked inside a pair of True Religion Joey jeans. He tops his wears off wit’ a bangin’-ass pair of black Mark Nason square-toed boots and belt. The tee is clingin’ to his muscles. Goddamn, I think, flashin’ him a smile, I mighta been sleepin’ on this young nigga. This muhfucka got body for days. He’s lucky I ain’t a bird. Otherwise he’d be pluckin’ tail feathers tonight.

He smiles wider. “Damn, ma, you lookin’ good.”

“Oh, so what you tryna say?” I tease. “I’m usually busted?”

“Nah, nuthin’ like that. I’m sayin’…you always do ya thang, but to finally get you outside of classes, you the truth, fo’ sho. So can I get a hug?”

I smirk. “I guess. But don’t be tryna press up on me too hard. I don’t wanna have’ta slice ya grill.” He laughs, pullin’ me into his arms. He gives me a quick, but strong, manly hug and kisses me on the cheek. It’s been a long time since a bitch felt a nigga’s arms ’round her. I almost forgot what the shit felt like. I inhale his cologne. The nigga got the nerve to be wearin’ one’a my favorites. My pussy twitches. “OhmyGod, I can’t do this wit’ you. You killin’ me wit’ that Bora Bora .”

He frowns. “Damn, too strong?” he asks, soundin’ disappointed, liftin’ his arm and smellin’ himself. “My bad, ma.”

“ Too strong ,” I grin. “Nigga, you tryna get ya’self some pussy wearin’ that shit ’round me.”

“Oh shit,” he says, smilin’, “then in that case let me go put on some more.”

“Don’t push ya luck, muhfucka.”

He laughs, takin’ me by the hand and leadin’ me toward the restaurant’s entrance. Surprisin’ly I let ’em get that. Even though I said I wasn’t feelin’ him on any extras, a bitch might need to take a moment to rethink that. Damn, he got some big hands . I peep how his jeans fit his ass and lick my lips wit’out thinkin’. Shit, fuck what ya heard. A bitch is horny! I want a warm, hard body to get it in wit’. A bitch’s tired of fuckin’ these fingas and a buncha dildos. And the muhfucka gotta nice ass, too. I imagine sinkin’ my nails into his plump, juicy ass, pullin’ ’im deep into this pussy. I quickly shake the thought.

Once inside, we’re immediately seated. Five minutes later our waiter comes to the table to take our orders. I order the mac ’n cheese, collard greens, turkey wings and cornbread stuffin’. He gets the steak and shrimp combo wit’ the same sides as me. We both order large pink lemonades. My stomach growls the minute the waiter returns and sits a basket of corn muffins on the table.

“So what do you think about that property management class?” he asks once the waiter dips from the table.

I shrug, placin’ a muffin on a plate. “It’s aiight, I guess. I’m not really interested in managin’ properties. I’m tryna own ’em, ya feel me?”

“Oh no doubt. I’m with you on that. I already have a few properties; I just wanna understand the management side of things.”

“Same here,” I say to ’im. He tells me how he owns two houses in Jersey, a townhome in Delaware, and another spot out here. All this and the nigga’s only twenty-four. When I ask ’im how he was able to make his moves, he tells me used the money and house his grandmother had left ’im in her will. I can’t front, I’m impressed. And I tell ’im so.

“Thanks,” he says, reachin’ for a muffin, then bitin’ into it. He swallows, then says, “By the time I’m forty, I’m tryna be set for life.”

For some reason, my clit twitches. I’m not sure if it’s ’cause e’ery time the muhfucka licks his lips I imagine it’s my clit he’s lickin’, if it’s ’cause the nigga’s on his grind, or ’cause I’m mad horny and he happens to be the only muhfucka out here I’ve given any real convo to in a minute. Whatever the reason, I wanna fuck! I press my thighs together tryna pinch off the achin’ in my clit. I am relieved when the waiter returns to the table wit’ our orders.

While we’re eatin’, I peep Tone checkin’ me on the sly, but I play it off ’cause I’m checkin’ him, too. He grins. “What? Why you grinnin’ like that? Is there sumthin’ hangin’ from my lips?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’m diggin’ your style. You real cool peeps, Kat.”

I smile. “Yeah, I bet you say that to e’ery chick you out wit’.”

“Nah, not at all. I been out here for almost two years, and you the first real dime I’ve come across. And the fact that you from Jersey is a big plus.”

I frown. “Nah, nigga,” I state with much ’tude. “I’m from Brooklyn. I rest in Jersey. Don’t get it twisted.”

“Oh, my bad, beautiful. I stand corrected. And you feisty as hell. That shit’s a turn on, ma.”

“Oh, so that’s what I’m doin’?” I ask, starin’ in his eyes. “Turnin’ you on?”

“No doubt.” He stares at me for a quick minute, then switches up the convo, askin’ if I gotta man out here. He seems surprised when I tell him no. “Damn. And how long you been out here?”

“I’ve been back ’n forth for a minute. But I been playin’ it real heavy here for the last six months.”

“And no one’s tried to snatch you up?”

“A muhfucka can’t snatch what I’m not givin’ out,” I tell him, sippin’ my drink. “Besides, I ain’t lookin’. What about you?” He tells me he’s been on some solo shit for the last few months, but had been fuckin’ wit’ some chick that started wildin’ out. States she was a real ghetto-bird. So he dipped on ’er. “Any baby mommas?”

He frowns. “Hell, no. I ain’t ready for that. One day, though.” He pauses as his foot brushes up against mine. “Listen…so, what’s your deal, ma. You don’t have a man, and you’re not lookin’ for one. Is it because you don’t get down with ’em like that? You know you…you dig the ladies? Or you’ve been hurt real bad?”

I laugh. “Oh, trust. I’m all ’bout the dick, baby. And no, I ain’t been hurt. The fact is I was fuckin’ wit’ someone for hot minute, but things didn’t work out so that situation deaded.”

“Oh damn. Sorry to hear that. What happened?”

I sigh, placin’ my elbows up on the table, then claspin’ my hands together. “He got murdered.”

“Wow,” he says, shakin’ his head in disbelief. “That’s crazy. I’m sure that fucked you up.”

“You have no idea,” I tell ’im, slowly shakin’ my head while placin’ my hand up to my chest. I know. Theatrics; oh well. “It tore me up. But, life goes on.”

“So, how’d he get bodied, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A bullet to the head.”

As he opens his mouth to speak, he’s interrupted by this brown-skinned, thick in da hips chick wit’ burgundy hair, stompin’ up to our table wit’ major ’tude. Cute girl, though. Kinda reminds me of a ghetto version of Jill Scott wit’ a tore up weave.

“Ohhhhhh, hellllllllll naw. So, this is why you ain’t been picking up your phone the last two weeks. You traipsing ’round town with some other ho. And then you got the nerve to bring the bitch to my hood.”

I blink, take a deep breath. Say a quick prayer, hopin’ I don’t have’ta come from outta chill mode and bring it to this bitch’s face. He checks her. Tells her to step the fuck off, but the bitch ain’t havin’ it.

“Oh, so fuck me, right? You got me swallowing your babies and now you wanna break new. Nah, that ain’t how we do it ’round here, homie. You think you gonna flaunt some bag ho…”

Bag ho? Oh, she must see my work, I think, glancin’ over at my thirty-eight-hundred dollar bag. Or is that some corny-ass west coast slang she’s usin’? I peep the bitch’s grill piece and wanna throw the fuck up. Ohmymuthafuckin’God! This Bama coon got a gold tooth in her mouth. What a late bitch!