Nights Over Egypt (An Eye of the Storm Short)

Nights over Egypt

An Eye of the Storm Short

by

Elissa Gabrielle

AN EYE OF THE STORM SHORT

A Division of Peace
In The Storm Publishing

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2013 by Elissa Gabrielle

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical, or photocopying, or stored in a retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher, Peace in the Storm Publishing, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages to be included in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, Characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously unless otherwise indicated. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Although the author and publisher have made every effort to ensure the accuracy and completeness of information contained in this book, we assume no responsibility for errors, inaccuracies, omissions, or any inconsistency herein.

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In The Storm Publishing, LLC.

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NIGHTS OVER EGYPT

An Elissa Gabrielle Original

"The sexual heat that rests between two forbidden souls can become so intense that
a combustion ensues when desires are met." ~Egypt

Divinity and Purgatory

Her…

He’s the kind of man that makes you love your name, just because the words part so sensually from his delicious lips. “King,” that’s his name and it fits him like a hand in glove. You see, he is regal, superior in human form, aesthetically – he has been blessed with more than his fair share.

The blink of an eye seems like an eternity while enveloped in his embrace.  Hot, heavy sounds of getting off, his breath came out on an emanation of satisfaction that filled the atmosphere. Constant coos controlled the
congo-like tempo equating to the fragile sounds of an inner shame. I’m embarrassed about the way I’ve freaked. Nothing should be this damn good. It is a sin and a divine shame for anything to be this glorious.

An ebony towering
inferno, locked in dreads; he is divinity and purgatory all rolled into one masterful man of perfection.

Quite frankly, my goal is to make him wetter than he’s ever been…

How long can you handle this?” he smiled, flashing a set of grand piano keys in the process. Sweat poured from his chocolate skin like flowing waterfalls. Have mercy, I thought. Chocolate makes everything better.

“Until one of us cries for mercy,” I replied, smiling, staring at his God-like presence. I must have died and gone to heaven, even though, I’m more than convinced that nothing this delightful could even take place in the house of the Lord.

We enjoyed the luxury of not knowing one another too well, so we had to guess each other’s favorite fragrance; had to take a stab at what each one of us deserved.

Like a string of warm chocolate pieces leading and lighting the path to a romantic lover’s bedroom, his spirit knows the way into my inner sanctum and with the auspicious praise of the righteous, his body gathers in solemn assembly, as his confident heart speaks to my throne alone. The majestic offering of his love carpets the pathway to my virtuous destiny, and it pleases, in every sense of the word.

Living in a fantasy, he became my “baby,” infinitely, and I became his favorite flavor, laced in triple D cups. He is teaching me all the dirty sounds of love.

“This is the best pussy I’ve ever had. You know that, right?”

In the Beginning…

Him…

It was the light of her smile. It spoke to me in a way no other woman had. It was like sunshine on the most dreary of days; lighting up my heart and my mind. Simply, her smile. Her smile somehow said to me, “Baby, one day, I’ll be all yours.” At least that’s what my foolish heart wanted to believe.

Was it so familiar how soft she called my name?

Egypt blossomed right before my eyes over a period of months, maybe a year even, before I found the courage to approach her. I had seen her at “Nights,” a popular poetry, grown and sexy nightclub downtown Newark. The bricks were live on Friday nights.

I’ll never forget the night I saw her for the first time. She walked in, bold, brilliant, like a goddess she appeared, tall, thick, voluptuous, flowing hair that caressed her shoulders effortlessly. She held a set of bouncing, beautiful breasts that screamed for attention. I watched her every move that night. From the form-fitting black
tee with the word “Savior” etched in silver she rocked to the denim that had the pleasure of holding and hugging those honey-sweet thighs; I jocked her, no question.

Lips as soft as cotton, brushed with some hot cherry-red color
shined, even from half a room away. The almond shaped eyes were mesmerizing from afar, and as she batted her lashes and glanced in my direction, she threw me a smile…yes, I knew that smirk was for me.

Now, so many thoughts ran like a marathon through my mind, daily, weekly, monthly; every minute, every hour, I’m consumed with dreams of her. It’s only been a year since our eyes met, since her inception into my world; a lonely world where vultures and thieves threaten to steal her away from me. One year, since I’ve met the love of my life, the reason for my existence. One year, since I’ve neared Heaven, almost kissed an angel, tasted the sweetness of innocence. If wanting her this badly is wrong, then I can’t ever be right. At night, I see her in my dreams, and by day, I’m mesmerized.

              The windows to my soul close softly. And, after doing so, I drift off into a world where only she and I exist. A lustful land of lovely love-making is where I lay my head nightly. It is a delicious deserted desolate place where desires of the heart dwell and decadence reign supreme.

             
From the beginning, I needed her…

             
“King,” man, you’re up brother. Julius took me out of my memorization with her and notified me of my time to shine on stage. Friday nights, open mic, and me, not only is “King,” my name, it’s a word that I tend to live by. I’m a grown-ass man. I put away childish things quite some time ago.

             
“Alright, alright,” I replied, put down my Crown Royal on ice, pulled my dreads back into a string and made my way to the stage. Bright lights beamed on me as I took the last three steps up to meet the microphone; I call her—the microphone—Lily, and she accompanies me each and every Friday night.

             
The cello player, Rob, works the chords, sloo-footed and all and my mans ‘anem on the bass, drums and sax join me. This stuff right here, this galaxy that I drift off into is never rehearsed, it simply comes from the dome, through my spirit, parts from my lips, lands on Lily who distributes me to the audience.

             
My right hand covers the top of my brow as I try to shield the lights, in hopes of finding perfection in its purest form. Back then I didn't know her name. But I'm searching for her. I want what I have to say to reach her and I plan to try harder than Avis to make sure she knows that my thoughts are solely on her and her alone. Yes, there are plenty of good looking women in here, but I know what I like. I know what I want. And you better believe, I know what I need.

             
“Alright, alright. How’s everyone in the house tonight?”

             
The crowd replies with whistles and light tapping sounds. I see candles lit all around. I smell vanilla, cognac and cigars in the air. I see lighters up and drinks everywhere. I see her, my queen, she’s right over there.

             
“Are you ready for some words that will intoxicate your mind? Send you to a place you haven’t gone before? Say word?”

             
“Word!” I hear them. I see them all. Lovely looking mamacitas, brothers dressed to the nines, and her…I see my Queen. She smiles. I feel my blood racing through my veins. She’s the fuel I need to turn this motherfucker out.

             
“You wearing that button-up, baby!” A random chick screams. I smile.

             
“Thank you, baby.”

             
The bass moves throughout the club and although no one says a word, we all have an understanding that things change from this point on. We all know our roles; witnesses and stars, voyeurs and spectators, folks mesmerized by the words, to poetry-junkies and groupies or simply folks who want and need to have a good time. We all are at attention, unspoken rules, we play our positions…me up first to bat.

             
“I call this one Savior,” I speak softly into Lily. She receives me, distributes me fluently throughout the room. I close my eyes and flow.

             
“She appeared out of the night sky.

             
Pleasing.

             
Tantalizing to my eyes.

             
Emperor.

             
Warrior.

             
Goddess.

             
The sweet smell of lust.

             
The soft strains of love.

             
I bowed at her feet.

             
Kissed them.

             
My Queen.

             
With all praise due to the most high,

             
My savior, can you feel the roar of my stare?

             
As I become familiar with those naughty parts of you that             

             
Seductively hide under the clothes you’re forced to wear.

             
I dare.

             
Salaciously, I praise you.

             
Spirit to spirit.

             
Body and soul.

             
I want you.

             
Tell me that you want me too.

             
Picture this…

             
Finger up, tip-toeing to your alter.

             
Call out your name.

             
Liberate you as the tip of my nose brushes against the thick, sugary lips

             
You hold so sacred.

             
I take full blame.

             
Let me make it my daily bread.

             
To partake in, over and over again.

             
Let me make the erotic heaven of your lonely earth sing.

             
Precious savior.

             
Delicious queen.             

             
Cool off the fire of my wanting.

             
Extinguish the bountifulness of my heat.

             
Help me to resolve my condition.

             
One day I will drink in the mainstream of your mind.

             
Let me get lost in your holy ocean.

             
Baptize me into complete submission.

             
Savior…”

Plenty dap as I make my way off the stage. Few honey-dips trying to holler, but my mind is in a place and time where my world with my queen is perfect. Politely, I excuse myself from the swarm and take my seat – my usual throne, corner side booth, with Julius, my boy from around the way.