The Pussy Trap Read online

  KoKo had come up hard. She grew up in the Wilson Place projects in Orange, New Jersey. Her mom had passed away when she was small, so her grandmother raised her. They moved to the projects in 1980 after her mom died. Her grandmother sold the house and moved into a two-bedroom apartment to save money. When she started elementary at Oakwood Avenue School, she met her two best friends, Tionne and Tabatha. They hit it off as soon as they met and were inseparable. They had formed a bond that no one could break or so they thought.

  By the time KoKo turned nine years old, the ‘jets were changing; crack had taken over the streets and she saw more niggas killed than a little. The straw that broke the camel’s back for her grandmother was one summer night. Gunshots rang out in the hallway and her grandmother came running into her room scared as hell, crying and saying somebody got shot in front of their door. KoKo jumped out the bed and looked out the peek hole. She could see ReRe and Cordy standing over somebody crying and yelling for help.

  Even though she was scared, curiosity took over and she cracked the door. What she saw would change her life forever. There he laid, one of the kingpins of Orange spread out with blood and white shit coming out of his nose and mouth and his body full of gun holes. KoKo stood there staring. Her grandmother was pulling her arms and trying to get her to come back in the house, but she couldn’t move. Bizzy was one of the project’s role models. Although he sold drugs, he wasn’t like the typical dealer. He was about 5’ 6”, chocolate brown, and a sweetheart. He would pass money out to the kids and help out with the local ball teams so that the kids who didn’t have sneakers and stuff could play. In the summer, he would help organize trips so the kids could get out of the projects and have fun. He had just bought his mom a condo and always kept a good rapport with all the people who lived around there even though he didn’t. Seeing him laid out crushed KoKo to her very soul. Then to see his boys crying and yelling—all the people that she looked up to, was devastating.

  Her grandmother finally pulled her inside then locked and chained the door. She tried to get her to go back to bed, but who could sleep after that? KoKo lay there looking at the ceiling for at least two and a half hours before drifting off.

  When she got up to go to school the next morning, she was haunted by the thoughts of what she saw. The reality of it all hit her hard when she stepped out her door. There were gunshot holes in the floor, wall, and her door, along with smears of blood. Her heart raced and tears came to her eyes. She jumped on the elevator and headed to the fifth floor to Tionne’s house. The same spirit Koko was experiencing at home was also at Tionne’s house. Her cousin, who was one of the top dealers, lived there and was very close to Bizzy. No one was really talking and the usual laughter that she would have heard every morning before school was nonexistent. It was just a somber feeling as everyone got ready for school.

  The next couple of events didn’t help much; the killings kept coming. It was something unnatural about seeing a dude’s head blown up so big from a gunshot that it barely fit in the casket. Everyone was sent to Woody’s funeral parlor, which sat on the corner of the projects. How ironic for it to be positioned at the base of a killing zone and they was getting rich on mass murder? You would have thought a situation like that would turn any kid into an A student with the hunger to get out. But for KoKo it was the total opposite: She loved the feeling of the streets, and as for death, she felt it was a part of life. And if a muthafucka got to go, he got to go. She dove head first into the streets, muling drugs from one side of town to the other and holding guns for several local dealers. By the age of twelve, she was making more money than most of her friends’ parents. KoKo's grandmother’s heart was breaking; she could see if she didn't do something fast, she would lose her.

  At thirteen, KoKo hung out with her girls on a hot summer night. A stick up kid came to Parrow Street and tried to violate the 108, asking who he could rob. He was told to get the fuck outta there because everybody out there was family. As he turned to walk away, someone put a bullet in his head. The scary part was that he was walking right past KoKo and her friends. Everyone thought they were shot too, but they had ducked behind a mailbox. The worst part was the FED’s thought they had a witness in KoKo, but true to form, she didn’t see shit and didn’t say shit. However, their visit to her house and questioning tactics was what signed the deal for her grandmother. She moved out by the winter. That landed KoKo in a brownstone in Brooklyn, Prospect Park section to be exact. That would be the turning point of KoKo’s development, sending her further into the drug game instead of pulling her out. She met Wise when she was fifteen and had become one of the strongest forces on the streets.

  Chapter 7

  Kayson

  Give me the numbers,” Kayson spoke in a monotone voice as was his practice. He was the type of nigga you didn’t want to see mad because if you did, somebody had to die. Aldeen watched Kayson move slowly toward his big leather chair that sat behind a huge, dark wooden desk.

  “We brought in about $500,000 from that event. That nigga, Raul is still acting the fuck up.” Aldeen was obviously becoming frustrated dealing with this nigga.

  Kayson took in the information and then spun his chair around toward the picture window right behind his desk. He took a deep breath then turned back to Aldeen and said, “Never hate your enemies. It fucks with your judgment. Remember what Robert Greene said in 48 Laws of Power, “When you force the other person to act, you are the one in control.” He went on to say, “We must remain in control. We have to move these pieces strategically across the board until we checkmate these muthafuckas.”

  With that, Aldeen nodded his head in agreement. Kayson always came with some shit that all you could do was agree with him. “What else is going on?” Kayson wanted the rest of the Intel.

  “We got KoKo rising up with street credit and handling her business; the bitch is bad. She moves like you move. No phones, only talks to a few, and has eyes and ears everywhere. Shit, she tied to people I don’t know. Then she had the nerve to tell me that it’s best that way so when they take a vice grip to my nuts and I say I don’t know, I really won’t know shit.” Aldeen laughed.

  Kayson brought a half smile to his face. “She get down like that?”

  “Hell yeah. She’s gonna be perfect for this next move. She is crazy as hell, but if you can calm her down she will be untouchable,” Aldeen said with confidence.

  “We will see. Go ahead and take care of the first steps, let me worry about Miss KoKo.”

  Aldeen got up and shook Kayson’s hand. “A’ight I’ll catch up with you later. Same time, same place?”

  Kayson nodded and turned to look out the window as Aldeen exited his office. Kayson took a minute to look back on how he used to be and how it paralleled what he was hearing about KoKo.

  Kayson grew up in the Bronx; he was always a very intellectual child. His mother was raising him by herself and because she worked a lot, she had him into all kinds of activities; the chess club was one of his favorite. He also had computer classes, piano lessons, and was on the debate team. Besides all his activities inside and outside of school, she kept his head in books. When Kayson turned thirteen, his uncle got him a membership to the gym and put him on the boxing team. His mother was opposed to such a barbaric sport, but her brother Rabb kept saying, “My nephew ain’t going to be no punk.” She finally gave in, but on the condition that her brother made sure to encourage him to not be sidetracked from his academics.

  Because Kayson was smart as hell, he looked at everything as a chess board and at every one like the pieces. Kayson was always on a mission. He thought that if you moved your pieces wisely and never without protection, seeking to take out any opposition, then and only then could you wear the crown. He had a natural talent in boxing. His discipline to train had his body and mind in superior shape. No one could touch him in the ring. His uncle was so proud of him; he immediately set up fights all over the city, both professional and street fights. Kayson would size up his opponent
and knock them the fuck out.

  Kayson’s uncle kept him with him all the time, another idea his mother was opposed to because he had some suspect activities and as she saw it, he was definitely grave bound. However, Kayson enjoyed every minute he spent with his uncle. It wasn’t the money that attracted Kayson; it was the power. He loved the idea of getting people to do what you wanted them to do while making them think they came up with the idea.

  Kayson would advise his uncle, teaching him all the things he learned in books such as The Art of War by Sun Zu and 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene and Uncle Yah Yah by Al Dickens. These books specialized in how to deal with your enemies and how to move people around to serve your purpose. Because Kayson was dangerous with his hands and a nigga might try to test him, his uncle began teaching him to use different types of guns so he would be a full package.

  When Kayson turned sixteen, his uncle gave him a pack of magnums and took him to the hotel to meet up with this twenty-two-year-old woman named Dominique. When they pulled up to the hotel, his uncle Rabb turned and strongly stated to his nephew, “Look, little nigga, you can’t be no fucking virgin.”

  Kayson looked at him then said, “How the fuck you know I ain’t get no pussy yet?”

  “Nigga please, I can tell you ain’t got that shit wet yet.” Then he did his signature laugh, throwing his head back. “Look, I got some shit hooked up for you. Don’t worry; she’s going to take care of you. Remember, get pussy . . . never let pussy get you.”

  Kayson nodded in agreement. “I got it.”

  “Don’t get fucked up, up there,” his uncle said before letting him out the car. He was impressed with his amount of reserve. He handed him the key card and smiled.

  “I’ll pick you up in the morning.” Then he watched Kayson as he bopped into the lobby. All he could think was, that nigga is going to be dangerous. Then he pulled off.

  What his uncle didn’t know was that he had already had sex, when he was twelve. He and Lisa, his mom best friend’s daughter had been practicing oral sex every weekend. He had gotten eating pussy down to a science. He had been giving Lisa multiple orgasms since they were thirteen and his confidence was up.

  Kayson walked in the lobby, looked around and then found the elevator and got on. He got off on the sixth floor, strolling his cool ass down the hall and sticking the key card in the slot and came into the room. When he looked up, Dominique stood in the middle of the room. She was 5’5” and 120 pounds, beautiful brown skin with dark brown eyes and a short Halle Berry haircut. All breasts and ass with perfect little manicured hands and feet. Her body was oiled up from head to toe and she wore a white lace see-thru bodysuit showing her nipples and pussy print. His dick jumped.

  Dominique broke the silence with, “What do you want t—”

  “Shhhhhh . . .” Kayson put his finger up to his mouth. She was thrown off and just stood there. Then Kayson walked toward her looking right in her eyes. Slowly, he circled her, sizing her up trying to see what he was working with. She felt nervous like it was her first time. She was expecting to just have her way with this young fifteen year old, but what stood before her was a 6’1”, 160-pound muscular body with the presence of a man. When Kayson stood in front of her, he again stared in her eyes.

  “Do you like what you see?” Dominique tried to gain control of the situation.

  “I don’t know yet. Take all that off and meet me in the shower.” Then he turned and headed toward the bathroom. He stripped and hopped in the shower. Dominique was right on his heels, unsure of what was going to happen next. All she could think was, what did I get myself into? Shit, she was told he was a young boy that needed his cherry popped, and that she should be able to stun him with her body. Then fuck the shit out of him, make him cum quick, then sneak out when he was passed out with his thumb in his mouth. But the way it appeared, he was getting ready to have her sucking her thumb.

  When she entered the shower, his back was turned and she was pleasantly surprised. His back was well-defined, shoulders tight, muscular ass. “Damn, this little nigga is sexy as hell,” she mumbled under her breath.

  Quickly moving close to him, she put her hands on his back and began to kiss the middle of his spine. Grabbing the cloth, she put some Dove body wash on it and began to wash his back. Watching the bubbles slowly slide down his butt, she bit her bottom lip anticipating his touch.

  Kayson turned around giving her that same intense stare. Dominique looked down, circling the cloth on his chest and abs. The V shape at the end of his six-pack led to a dick that she could only describe as beautiful. Long and thick with a pretty mole right on the tip. She admired it as she watched the soap slowly glide down his shaft.

  “Do you like what you see?” Kayson said with a smirk on his face.

  “I sure do.” His cocky attitude turned her on.

  “Tell him,” he said. Squatting, she opened her mouth to receive him and was greeted first with the water running off his dick. She swallowed it, then him.

  Kayson enjoyed the feeling she was giving him. He towered over her, watching her every move with seriousness on his face while never taking his eyes off her. Excited, Dominique used every trick she knew. The sound of slurping and moaning turned Kayson on. He let out a small hiss from his lips. Dominique took advantage of that moment, sucking harder and faster. Kayson placed his hand on the back of her head, feeling the strong urge to cum. He released into her mouth and she swallowed every drop then smiled at him. But his facial expression never changed.

  “Stand up,” Kayson commanded in a deep relaxed voice. Taking her by the hand, he turned her face toward the water. “Rinse your mouth out,” he said. As she complied, he soaped up the sponge and began washing her back and butt then turned her around and lightly brushed it across her breasts. With the other hand, he circled the suds around her nipples and ran his finger between her breasts, down her stomach, then slowly between her legs. Closing her eyes, she softly moaned in pleasure. Once satisfied, he turned her again and said, “Rinse off so I can taste you.”

  When all the soap was off her body, he went down to one knee and gave her some of that diesel tongue. Kayson was doing what he did best and she was climbing the walls. He grabbed her tight, giving her clit a fit. Dominique felt an orgasm coming on strong.

  “Oh my god. . . ahhhhhh . . . oh shit . . .” She came so hard, she thought she was going to fall out. Kayson stood and ran water over his face and rinsed his mouth out. Then he faced her, grabbing a hand full of her hair and pulling her head back, kissing and nibbling on her neck. His hand slid between her legs massaging her clit. Once he had her full attention, he inserted his finger deep inside her—another thing he had gotten good at. Enjoying every minute, she was on the verge of cumming again.

  “Oh my god, I’m cumming again.”

  “Let that shit go,” Kayson said in an aggressive tone.

  “Oooohhhhh . . . sssssss,” she hissed and fell forward on his chest.

  “Let’s go to the bed so I can get me some of this sweet pussy.”

  Dominique couldn’t even speak; she followed his orders. He lay her on the bed and began kissing her legs and sucking her inner thighs. He was driving her crazy. Squirming all around in anticipation, she sank her head into the pillow and bit down on her bottom lip as she began rubbing the top of his head with both hands.

  Just as Kayson was about to continue his attack, the hotel phone rang. He reached over and grabbed it “Hello. I’ll be right there.” He hung up and climbed off the bed, grabbing his sweat pants and hoodie. Dominique watched as he dressed then said in disappointment,

  “Where you going?”

  “Keep it wet for me, I’ll be right back.” He grabbed his nine, placed it in a small black bag, and headed for the door. Dominique was confused. As she started to get off the bed, he turned and said, “Don’t leave the room and don’t use the phone.” He opened the door and with the look of death in his eyes, he headed for the stairs to carry out his mission. When Kayson got to th
e twelfth floor, he opened the bag and tucked the gun safely in his waist. He pulled his hoodie down, opened the exit door, and moved swiftly down the hallway. When he got to room 1215, he knocked three times. When the door opened, a tall brown-skinned woman wearing nothing but some stilettos greeted him. She pulled the door back allowing him to enter. “Did you put that nigga on doze?” Kayson said in a whisper.

  “That nigga is almost comatose.”

  “Get dressed and wait for me by the door.” He pulled out his gun and handed her the black bag. As he crept to the bathroom door, he heard the nigga yell out, “Who is that at the door?” Mano sat in the tub stroking his dick anticipating her return.

  “It was housekeeping dropping off the extra towels,” Tomeka yelled back.

  “Hurry up so I can make you earn your paycheck,” Mano said. He closed his eyes, slid down in the tub and continued to stroke his dick.