Nights Over Egypt (An Eye of the Storm Short) by Elissa Gabrielle Page B

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.
                  “Dope, brother, as usual.  Seemed a lil personal though.”
                  “It was,” I point to her as she makes her way to the stage.
                  “I see.” Julius smiles, shakes his