CLOUD GAMES (PART III)

My emotions amplify at the sight of him. I stand still in Solomon’s penthouse. It’s the only suite on a twelve-story condominium with two sprawling terraces offering a perversely bold view of the Hudson River. The city’s dazzling lights crystallize the water like a blanket of twilights. Tonight I feel less glamorous. Four nights ago I was his synthetic product; the haute couture girl in a sequined Oscar de la Renta dress and Prada shoes, with hair weaved in layers, makeup outdone. All which were contribution from his cash and credit cards. But now I am a picture of insecurity. Beauty ran out the window and jumped off somewhere between guilt and self-consciousness. I am a woman who is focused, who has her priorities straight. I am awake from his prosperous world that surrounds me.

Solomon’s stare is bold. “Claudine, you were missed.” His smile serves so many purposes and is contagious. His eyes dance a smoldering flame sending a feverish ache between my thighs and I am taken back to the first time we met. Edward had told me about a party at a museum where he got hired as a security guard, he encouraged me to attend and even though we had no money he borrowed from a friend to buy me a nice dress for the gallery’s summer exhibition. It was the first time I was introduced to art and the electricity of one man who took my breath away. Solomon.

He arches an eyebrow. “It’s been a week. All you had to do was call me.”

“I’ve decided to stay with Edward.”

He nods, unable to hide his disappointment. “I know it wasn’t an easy decision, clearly the best man won over your heart.”

I say, “I’m doing what feels right.”

“Obviously, you are.”

My heart says its right to be with my husband, but I feel my skin charring off from Solomon’s lack of touch.

I take a good look at this ambitious and highly accomplished human being who has given me what money can’t buy. When the money is long gone I will always remember him and our intimate scenes a thousand times over in my head. I know an experience like this will never come my way again. I can’t ever recall Edward treating me with such passion. I guess it has a lot to do with the common issues behind closed doors of his premature ejaculations, and his erectile-dysfunction medications that leaves him virtually depressed.

Solomon asks, “Can I have you kiss me one last time as if you mean it?”
I want more than that. I close my eyes; perhaps shaking my head will help to get rid of the thought of him penetrating me.

“Look, Solomon.” My voice changes, becomes firm. But I am powerless. My wall crumbles, turns into pebbles when we stand close. Too close.
His chiseled face baked by many sun looks down at me. I have the difficult task of looking up at him. Brown eyes in a bronzed face. A man who doesn’t have to say much to get me wet. The August air breezes in from the opened windows, whispering the strongest scent of desire.
I must walk away, I repeat to myself. But I am unable to move. The air still whispers a nonverbal secret through silk curtains. I am thirsty. I am hungry for him.

He says, “Time to say goodbye.”

My eyes swell up in tears. This is really goodbye. He leans down, his hands on my waist and the ferocity of his passion is found in his warm lips. He sucks on my tongue and I return the favor with urgency, feeling unconsciously swept away. I am spellbound when he lifts me up. I let out a moan. He takes me to his bedroom where he eases me down onto the king-sized bed which is dressed in rose petals. The huge Victorian-styled room is warmly lit with votive candles and incensed sticks offer a sweet fragrance of vanilla. That’s exactly the magical world I am trying to walk away from.
Solomon carefully peels off my clothes, my nipples firmed instantly under his touch. He leaves me naked in bed, pauses to undress and in the shadow of the night I see the beauty of his six-foot frame holding me captive. He licks my clit softly gently and put my legs over his strong shoulders. He then sucks from the source of life as if sucking hundred yards of water, making the sexiest sound with his tongue exploring through my pubic hair. With his hard body atop mine, his lips found the softness of my breasts then moves down to my stomach, placing butterfly kisses on my navel. I gasp with enthusiasm when he strokes his swollen dick lovingly against my belly. I spread my legs wide enough to welcome him. He lifts me up slightly against the bed, his hands are firm under my buttocks and my breathing becomes heavy with anticipation. He slid himself inside me and I found myself drowning in a floodtide of ecstasy. I wrap my legs around his waist and his groan is deep with bass. My bottom rises. I grip onto the sheets, welcoming each of his thrust which sends me to a spasmodic quake unchoreographed by his own tremors. My spasms are sweetened like juice on his bed mixed with tears of joy, sadness and confusion. Over and over he whispers his love for each part of my body, kissing me from my forehead down to my toes.
We breathe hard with sweat when we go two more rounds and gradually we slow down, falling into each other’s arms like two peaceful doves. Asleep.

********

A little over a year flies by quick. I am pushing my daughter in her stroller. We were coming from Madison Park’s playground. It is a dry windy day, nice enough to sit and watch other parents in the park pushing their little ones in the swings. My girl is too little but she loves to watch the older kids have fun. Everything is so new to her. I am walking down 27th and Park Avenue, my stomach growls with hunger. I stall when I pass by a restaurant down the block where my husband warns me to never eat. I decide today is the day to give this eatery a try, more concerned about my empty belly. I stroll in with my daughter and a hostess greets me with a casual smile.

She asks, “How many in your party?”

“One plus a child.”

I get seated at a booth by the windows and immediately I pull out my cell to call my husband.

“Hi baby, how are you?”

He says, “Busy as always. How’s the baby?”

I look down at Amerie on her stroller, drooling and chewing on a toy.

“She’s fine…I’m going to have lunch right now.” I don’t tell him where.

“Really? Alone?”

I say flirtatiously, “Well, you’re not close enough to stop by and join me.”

“Hmmmmmmm…think of me if you decide to have dessert.”

I purr, “I will. I love you.”

He says, “Me too.”

As soon as I hang up, a man standing nearby approach the table. He looks very familiar except now skin is flawless, no gray hair in sight and he is broad and muscular. I can see he has taken good care of himself. A makeover which makes him physically striking. We look at each other and the earth stops moving.

His voice is sharp. “Welcome, can I get you something to drink?”

My eyes shot up in surprise. “You work here?!”

He pulls out his notepad and pen. “Yes, and would you like to start with an appetizer?”
He doesn’t seem at all surprise by my reaction.

I say, “How are you? You look really good.”

”Thanks. What will you have?”

I look down at the menu losing my train of thought. “Uh…water is fine for now.”
He walks away and comes back with a glass of water. My mind is running this marathon, wondering if my husband is aware of this man working here. It might explain why he didn’t want me to ever step foot in this is uncharted territory. Amerie coos and wiggles her bottom on the stroller, her way of telling me she wants to get out. I’m not ready to set her free. I am in need of a strong drink to calm my nerves. My eyes roam around the empty restaurant, waiting impatiently on the waiter’s return. I have questions, questions
He emerges from the kitchen, and I try to figure out what he’s thinking.

He says with a hint of attitude, “I am not thrilled to see you here.”

“I…I know.” It is written all over his face.

“What do you want?”

I say, “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Am I supposed to believe that?”

“Believe what you want.”

“Just like the night when you promised to leave Solomon and came back to me with lies…”

I say, “I can’t control what happened in the past.”

He shoots back, “Yes, I know. And I’m glad you have no control.”
Amerie waves her little hands up at me. I caress her curly locks and she giggles.

He asks, “How old is she?”
“Nine months”
“You did us a huge favor.”
“Excuse me?”

He says in a nasty tone, “By leaving me…you think you won but you didn’t.”

“Edward, this was never about winning or losing anything.”

“Yes, it was. It was all about money to you, nothing else mattered. Well, let me set the record straight. Two of us played the game and I was paid by your rich man to get rid of you. He wanted more than one night and I asked him for more money to let you go.”
I shout, “What are you talking about?” My heart is heavy and I feel a cold chill down my spine.
He says sarcastically, “You do understand the words coming out of my mouth, right?”

“Solomon would not pay you a dime. He loves me. It was never about the money.”

“Why don’t you ask him? As a matter of fact he will tell you the whole story. We were lovers…and when I lost my job at the hotel and asked him for his help he offered on the condition that I allow you to sleep with him whenever he pleased. I was disgusted with the idea and jealous but desperate for cash.”

“Are you telling me you two knew each other before I met him and that you’re gay?” I look at him in horror and disbelief. I feel as if a hand closed around my throat.

He continues, “He was a guest at the hotel where I used to work, that was the main reason why I got fired because they find out about our affair. Being with Solomon was just an experience; I’ve never been with any other man after him, besides it was all about the Benjamin’s, baby.”

“That’s not true; Solomon wouldn’t do this to me.”

Edward’s smile is vicious. “Oh yeah by the way he desperately wanted to have a baby and he knew with me, well, you know I couldn’t carry one for him. I guess he needed you and your egg around.”

I want to spit in his face and kick him in the balls, but some of what he’s telling me is probably true. I get up to leave. He is laughing his way to the bank and I am crying inside with a broken heart. My feet touch concrete yet I am no longer floating this cloud 9.
The End
© 10/2006 by C. Delaleu

Cloud Games (Part 2)

PART II: CLOUD GAMES

I found him in the kitchen cooking. My husband is making meatloaf.
Probably defrosted the old ground turkey I had left in the freezer
There is no money in the bank so I know there are no groceries in the fridge
All we’ve been doing is write bounced checks left and right. I’ve been the only breadwinner ever since he got laid-off as a doorman at Borgata Hotel in Manhattan, due to an injury to his leg. My tips at Deja Diner were only enough to cover our utility bills. I am thrilled, such a relief jumping inside me knowing I am putting an end to our financial woes. I know he will breathe easy when he sees the money. The kind of money that will have us sitting pretty outside of Crown Heights, Brooklyn. A cool million might not be much but it is a new beginning of brighter and better days to come.
I stand at the entrance. The kitchen is small. Edward appears leaner not the same vibrant man I married five years ago. I see whiskers on his face with lack of sleep smeared under his eyes, reminding me how worried he was that I didn’t come home. I found myself wanting to kiss him, to thank him. His lips are always inviting, gentle. He is my friend first, my partner second, my lover, third.
I say, “Hi”
He says without looking up, “Hi”.
He adds spices to the meatloaf, puts it inside the oven, then pours rice from an Uncle Ben’s box to a pot of boiling water on top of the stove.
I say, “I didn’t know we had rice”
“We didn’t”
I try to read his expression and I fail.
He stands in front of the medium heat stirring the rice with a wooden spoon.
“Where did you get the money to buy rice?”
He ignores my question and asks, “How are you?”
I swallow, almost afraid to answer. “Ok”
“Slept well?”
“Not really”
“Me neither, I was worried about MY wife who took off three days ago.”
“Edward, you …”
He interrupts me vehemently, puts a hand in the air, “No! Don’t say it…don’t say I AGREED for this Negro to steal my woman’s v-a-g-i-n-a for a million bucks. I know damn well I didn’t force you into it.”
“You were there when he asked and you sat and listened to him…you said you didn’t have a problem with it.”
He snaps, “Just like when I’m drunk I say a lot of garbage…stupid shit to test you, to see if you’ll have the audacity to cheat on me. Your money-hungry ass disappeared, you couldn’t wait.”
“I did it for us; I know I should have called you.”
I try not to raise my voice.
He asks, “So, what happened? He gave you $3 million for three days of fucking. Did you at least use a condom?”
The bitterness in his tongue makes the kitchen even smaller. I look into his angry eyes and found myself searching for forgiveness.
He continues, “Be honest, was it worth it? Was it? To fuck a stranger like a whore, was it?”
I shake my head. Regret is growing down my throat making it hard to fight against the tears. I can tell by his use of profanity that he is beyond pissed. I want to hold him, for us to cry together, to ask each other for forgiveness. Then again why should I feel guilty for something he also agreed for me to do?
We both signed on the dotted line. We both wanted this one-night stand ignoring the consequences. Sadly, Edward doesn’t see it that way.
I yell, “How can I be looked at as a whore or money-hungry when I did this for us?”
I gulp lumps of anger. We look at each other in silence.
Then he says barely in a whisper, “My love for you is worth more than a million dollars.”
My heart aches under my breast as he walks out.
He exits and the warm kitchen is suddenly cold.
©10/2006 by C. Delaleu
(Part2 of 3)

CLOUD GAMES
His sage eyes look at me and
a million flecks of color is sun-dappled on his back . We pull away from earth
while strapless corset is removed.
His Upper East Side is a brownstone
that greets my doorstep with a proposal.
He pulls me close to his warm body .
His smooth scent of amber and lavender
dances divinely on the cotton sheets
“I can’t stay.”
“But you can’t go…” he whispers with lust caught up in his throat.
“I must, I don’t have a choice,” I reply with sadness
And the thought of walking away from him tears me inside,
another sunless day without him, without his touch is like hell.
My hands involuntarily grab his hard penis
I love the feel of it
The length of it
The aroma of it
His erection is a curious strength calling me .
“How long are we going to do this?” He continues
“Do what?” I let go of his welcoming shaft,

knowing damn well where this was heading
“How long are we going to love without loving?” he says
“I do love you.”
“Then show me…leave him!”
“I can’t.”
His hand is a burning torch caressing my face.
I close my eyes again
Inhale his scent.
His warmness is pure harassment to my soul
I wrap my leg around his thigh,
allowing him a full view of my hungry clit.
It sings a hyper conspiracy of arousal
I am swimming in his sweet caramel eyes .
He places hot fingers inside me paying homage, taking residence of my central universe
I shudder with anticipation .
“This is my Caviar, I paid for it,” he says not tearing his eyes away from me
I shudder again.

Encouraging him with moans, feeling a rush of wetness as his fingers digs deeper .
Then he pulls out and licks my juice with a wide tongue.
He goes back again with tantalizing fingers torturing me.
My heart races with excited breaths.
And the million flecks of color reappear
The first set of tremors causing me to praise his sacred name,
“Solomon!”
Intensity grows on the second round of mind blowing orgasm.
Suddenly he stops.
I stare at him in wonder.
My pussy howling for him to resume .
He places a small kiss on my forehead.
“I’ll give you more where that came from if you leave him,” he says
“But this was supposed to be only for one night!”
I protest needing more of his magical touch.
“Remember, you agreed to sleep with me only for one night"
“Yes, I know, and it has nothing to do with the million dollars you gave me”
“Then you came back”
“You wanted me back. Now it’s time for me to return to him”
“He knows what you did, obviously he doesn’t love you enough to come and get you”
“Ed does care,” I say to my husband’s defense
“Claudine, you need to make a decision…you know what’s best. I want you for my queen, but you can’t be if you’re going to remain with this good for nothing…”
I take a deep breath, “Look, I will make a decision"
“I’m giving you until tomorrow”
Before getting off the bed, he gives me a tender kiss this time on the lips.

The minty taste of his tongue quickly curls up my toes.
I am left to make a not-so-easy decision

while my pussy throbs, refusing to dose off to sleep
©10/2006 by Cathy Delaleu (Part 1 of 3)
To be continued…

CYCLE OF WORDS

And you wonder why a poem has the ability to turn into a novel
The first drop of words are incensed with passion clay
There are never any leftovers
No anorexia of readers
Every poet wants to screw a noun,
verb or pronoun
To name their poem their bitch
Or SHE prefers for him to build her a strong drink
Without the use of vodka
To spill distraction down her ankles
No protection needed to penetrate her audience
With moans and sighs
Her clit will purr regardless of the time
She’ll be turned on by the wetness of his game
Can a poem have that kind of skill?
Turn her stenographic clit into a novel?
Her fetish grin tells him what she likes
she sees from the mirrored ceiling how his poem
grows a kinky tale
softly he bites her navel
flips her around
spank her firm cheeks until her wetness tells him
she is ready for another stanza
she aches for the next set of reverie
he scribbles his name on her swollen nipples
write DOWN metaphors in her opening
jotting successive pages in circles
he is fearless
never stopping
finding words even further
deeply
something emerge from her screams
a river drafting lines of pleasure
slipping his rhythm
he improvise a slam very slowly
slams her soil with quivers
she flows sweetly into his poem like honey
he taste her gravity
too heavy to call poetry
strong enough to create chapters
he turns into a novel
©10/2006 by C. Delaleu

INTERNATIONAL
My girly longings are poems tattooed within my vaginal walls
Unzipped at the hip for him to explore
His lips moist with whispers
Verses stolen from the song of Salomon
His conga he improvises with French lyrics
Spanish is not my forte but he can tell by my accent
Que je suis heureuse lorsque tu m’embrasse
De la tete au pied
Lorsque tu me regarde avec des yeux doux
Je vois la vie en rose
Oui je vois la vie en rose
He is lost somewhere in a cottage
In Europe
A whiff of love Jones he inhales
This love Jones of bourgeoisie
This love Jones that get us both too dizzy
as the French say tres romantique
Indeed
my eyes caress him with a
Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
He puts it on me in his own Caribbean style
With ethnic hips that rotate with slang
Cranking the vulgarity of intercourse
It’s amazing how for a split second
I spoke another language
©10/2006by C. Delaleu

**Have you ever made love so good and find yourself speaking another language? :)

Don't you hate it when you're trying to end a relationship, friendship or whatever ship you were sailing with someone all of a sudden they turn psycho-delic on you? Then they get more pissed cause you're not retaliating. The life of a stalker is a pretty dull one especially if his goal is to sit in his car in your neighborhood until his ass goes numb.
Well, I've experienced it and it's time to post my poem about a "commoner" and to help others understand why I won't ever date one again.

A commoner is someone who you have nothing in common with. Being physical is the only language understood but as far as anything else, it is totally foreign to him or her. See as poets you can't expect to be in a relationship with a commoner who has no skills. He/She should have at least one creative talent in order to understand where you're coming from...if not eventually it won't work. That's my opinion, so free your mind, express to me whether you agree or disagree.

Does a poet need to be with someone of his/her kind? or do you think a poet can educate the person they love into their lyrical universe?

I've dated my share of commoners and I seem to clash with those who don't appreciate the art world or the language of poetry. Having a cell phone stuck to your ear while you're walking around a museum is not the meaning of art appreciation or class.

Well, here is a poem dedicated to those commoners from the past, wherever you are.


UGLY
Let science mute my thoughts
Or maybe I should express them
Like an angry crow to let you all know
Why I won’t date a commoner

I can’t date a man like you who can’t relate
Someone who believes poetry is for those
Who think with their eyes and not with their feet

You analyze me and decide you are the one who can
Make me reach cloud 9
When in reality I was born under an aristocratic sun
Made of well-bred skies without the help of mankind
My skin is the color of euphoria
That’s why you crave to see through my windows
To get familiar with my scent
You desperately cling to me but my poetry don’t
Provide to you an ignorant fuck
just like my mind, it is committed to a natural habitat
of sensual gathering

What can you provide?
You the man of few words and whose diplomatic behavior
Is arrogant enough to stand trial at the ultimate stalker club

You can’t even hide the carbon monoxide red of your eyes
Or contain the jerkily giggles that make you sigh when
You cum beneath me pretending you can rule the world
Wait a minute
My world is not for sale
For I could tell after six orgasms
Midnight stars equaled
A dry spell
Shit
You can only rock my bell
In the bedroom when is hot as hell

How can you expect to get with this Beautiful Black Dictionary
When your pictionary is a type S for special unit of ugliness
A typeface piglatin whose scum breath spells useless sex
You think with your mouth and not with your head
Head me straight to reality cause then hopefully I can
Zoom-lensed your masculinity to all of New York City
Travel down the five boroughs to let them all know
You were the ho ho ho little giant who thought
Getting with me would make you the Tall Black Beautiful Man

Naturally
You made me weak

But weakness wakes up in the morning
Forget your ugly ass in the bed
Takes a shower
Stab loneliness away with a slip thong
Create solo sex with finger-licking avalanche
And I do it right
Cause I hold on to my scent
Get my freak on
Without Magnum or your Trojan friend
And I do it right
Cream filling in my hands
Your Twinkie not at all what it used to be
Only a spare tire I needed
When I felt hungry

See I won’t date a commoner
You got no skills
Can’t come correct
With lyrics and pornification

For now poetry is my mate
Until I can find the one
Who can swing his poetic balls at my face
Hmmmmmmm…
again what do I have in common with YOU?

© 10/06 by C. Delaleu

OVERTAKEN

I cook the earth with my thighs
Graze my curtains with a leopard mask
I intend to find myself a home to rest
My neck and original sins
I am too visible to zookeepers who
Hope to attract me to their sexual pilgrimage
Their chorus line is filled with a ten-foot high Bronx Zoo
Their yellow smile shines with blind reliance

I hold back the fruits Mom gave with sweet charity
I sucked her marrow like a dog
And became her brilliant ballerina
With the broken ankle
My swollen toes swirl with sad laughter
Mom tells me the beauty of many dishes
Lies in the caviar served richly
Wonderfully
Should be eaten with permission
What remains to be seen
Should remain unseen
I repeat her words in my mind
But I race with lust
Ignore her plea
Undress with willingness
With a conquest to kill
To numb the rhythm of pain
To caress the pools of wilted petals
Found on my accented breasts

The earth now a virtual fireplace
Flickers my inner turmoil in a meatpacking district
I fill my belly with mojitos
To prolong the life I am scheduled to end
Without sound
© 10/2006 by C. Delaleu

FROM ASHES TO LUST

Why am I still hungry?My belly utters your name in a desperate manner
Your ceremonial kiss leaves me breathless
I want us to pick up where you left off
Wax your heat on my starved lips
Motivate my being with inclination
You are to me the purest gratification
(c) by C. Delaleu 9/2006

Do you believe lust can easily turn into obsession? What if he/she is good enough to have sex with but not enough to be in a relationship with? If you do express your lust to someone of the opposite sex and it naturally leads to the purest gratification, do you consider yourself in a relationship with that person? That is why I feel verbal communication is crucial, letting them know what to expect and what not to expect for there is always one person feeling more than the other and the obvious happens "disappointment".

WOMEN OF JEALOUSY

Guess what?
I don’t want you to like me
Gain knowledge and control your emotions
Cleopatra handed me her power
Under a sexy petticoat of limbs
You envy what I offer to your men
The art of fantasy manifested with flare
You may call it lust
A greeting card of horseback riding
With tulips growing with purpose
But your jealousy turns green
When he grows long and hard
Well, I do have that ability to grope their mind
Profoundly
Digging my hands under his pants
Call it like it is
I am a Jezebel who aims to please
A Nefertiti with royal fingers
I rub his balls until they turn blue
Why the frigid stares?
I study critically the beauty of his shrieks
While my tongue kiss him at the tip
He sees God with eyes wide open
Gives him thanks for this spiritual vision
And yet you can’t stand his expression
He seems comatose
You fidget in your seat
Face flushing
You want me to stop
Stop sucking his presence of mind
Stop the suction that leaves him beaming
But if I stop I will gag
© 9/2006 by C. Delaleu

In case you didn’t know
Women have the ability to woo the mind
Without physical contact
In my opinion erotic poetry is as good as sex
You don’t even need porn to feel
All you need is a visual of words
The choice of words should be enough to get him aroused
In your opinion, do you think erotic poetry is considered porn?
Do you feel it’s a bit too graphic?
Does it belong in the romance department or too trashy?

Back To Reality

Hello Bloggers and Bloggetts,

Yes, I am back but not fully awake. I am still trying to catch up with time and can't seem to get back into work gear even with my writing. I feel like my brain stutters when I try to write something down. Weird, huh? I need to flex my muscles and kick off this writers' block. That's what I hate the most about vacations, you take them then there's the side effects of aging when you go back to reality. I need to stop spinning around in my tu tu pretending to be relaxed, since I got back i've been really tensed not wanting to face my 9-5 schedule or better yet 5:30a.m til 5pm. Yes, I wake up way too early.

First off there is no need for me to be moody not when I was greeted by a beautiful apartment all painted when I made it home and my kitchen is now a tangy orange color which put a smile on my face. I unpacked everything, finally, after two months of feeling homeless. I will get some pictures posted soon for you all to see my progress. Thank God Mr. Painter is out the way, my landlord told me he won't be coming back and that he is completely done with my place. I felt like he was an unwanted roommate I had to face all the time in my apartment. He took forever to finish the walls as if he didn't want to leave.

As for my Cali vacation, let's just say I ate a little too much and didn't sleep enough. I rented a car as soon as I got to Burbank Airport and did a lot of driving. I don't miss driving, i've been spoiled with the NY trains and buses. I had a great time with family and friends. I made it to L.A. Zoo without getting lost and visiting the Aquarium in Long Beach was fun, most of all shopping for my new apartment got me too excited. One store I particularly fell in love with was Wes Elm in Santa Monica and I lost my mind at Pier1 and Crate & Barrel. We do have those stores in NY but it seems more thrilling and adventurous when you're away from home.

By the time I packed my suitcase to leave, it was too stuffed so I had to ship a box to NY with all the extra stuff I bought. Everything got so expensive in Cali and too trendy, well the food of course wasn't costly but shopping for clothes, shoes or houseware items was an excursion. I got to eat at all the spots I had listed except for Tony Romas...now I'm dieing for some ribs, lol. Oh well.

I had my first housewarming last Sunday in my new apartment, it turned out great and my guests were impressed with the menu and the place. I did cook a little too much food but overall everyone was well-fed from chicken wings to turkey meatball, mac n' cheese, well the list goes on and on. I can't wait to have my next housewarming in September, I plan to have one at least once a month then take a break in November and December. I love to entertain friends and family, life is too short to sit and mop...and I figured it was the best solution to my vacation blues.

I am back in poetry mode so here's one hot off the press:

EROGENOUS ZONE
His footsteps play like keyboards on the tiles
As he approaches the bed
I keep my eyes closed
Pretending to be asleep
His cologne is a caress of great versatility
Sexing my mental agility
His casual gesture is one finger which travels lazily
Down the center of my back and the warmness of his touch
Christens my buttocks and lower lips tick tocks a moon rise
Yet I remain still on my belly
Loving the way he cautiously disentangles romance
Motivating my senses while he lingers an alert on my spine
“We’re going on a field trip,” he whispers in my ear
I turn around slowly
His gray eyes paralyze the air
And Mother Earth know this encounter too well
His tongue spins around inside me like a ceiling fan
Awakening a preview outside the windows
Under the midnight skies special attention is paid to the fall season
creamsicle hues profess the wonderfulness of changed weather
it makes sense to confess joy with bits of moans
©8/2006 C. Delaleu

Ready for Californication

Hello Blog family,

I will be skipping my Dear Diary periodical this Friday, 8/11 and resume when I get back from my vacation...I'll be heading to sunny California back to my old roots. Being a Cali girl most of my life it's been interesting with my huge transition to NYC. Being here 5 years, wow, time sure flies, and mentally I feel I am a New Yorker. I no longer have the bougie attitude I had when I first moved to the eastcoast. I remember how I couldn't stand the trains, the smelly streets and the crowd of people to me looked like criminals or maybe I looked strange to them...lol.

I'm going for some well-deserved vacation to Californication, my fornication will be food and shopping, that's it and I can't wait. I'll be there for 12 days spending time with friends and family. I know some will comment on how I gained a little weight and oh yeah say something about my hair color which is more like a honey blond. I gave up on trying to lose weight before my trip, so i'll be splurging on all the restaurants I missed over there and when I return home i'll go back to my healthing eating. For example I can't wait to eat at Tony Romas, if you've never heard of it, it's a restaurant that specializes on great ribs. Just thinking about it now makes my mouth water, you can check out their menu (www.tonyromas.com), i'll be ordering the St. Louis Rib Sampler which consist of a dozen St. Louis Ribs in four flavors: Original, Carolina Honeys™, Blue Ridge Smokies™ and Tony Roma’s Red Hots, it is to die for.

Another favorite eating spot is In-N-Out Burger (www.in-n-out.com) , the place is really addicting especially their fries which are cut, peeled and cooked in 100% cholesterol-free oil and you can't have the meal without their delicious shakes which are made from real ice cream which is why they are so thick and creamy. Am I hungry or what? Lol... ok one last spot I must say i'll check out as far as splurging like a pig is the Cheesecake Factory. I go there each and every time I visit California. I usually order the avocado eggroll instead of a salad, to me their salads are too much enough to feed Somalia. I eat my six eggrolls then treat myself to a nice slice of cheesecake. Cheesecake Factory has a dozen or so cheesecakes, it's really hard to pick one, and the last time I ordered an Oreo Cheesecake it was way too sweet but then I tasted my girlfriend's Kahlua Cheesecake and that was it for me. I will definetly order myself a Kahlua Cheesecake. Take the time to browse at their menu in advance if you do plan on visiting California in the future (www.cheesecakefactory.com) believe me, you won't be disappointed. Another spot (I know...I know) but it's great when it comes to Mexican food is El Torito's. Fine...i'll stop right there with the food and head straight to the beach where I will be walking off my extra calories. I'll be strolling Venice Beach and of course Malibu where I love to sit on top of the rocks and look out at the ocean andsunset. It does get cool and windy over there but i'll bring myself a sweater.
The first thing I do when I get to Cali is rent my car and go straight to Wholefoods, I'll be staying with my aunt who is not a healthy eater and she cooks a lot of beef which I stay away from. That's why it's best for me to stop at the market first to get what I need for the week and then I can unpack my things and relax. Well, I think i'll be enjoying this vacation and come back with a sunny tan and sunnier smile.

I'll bring back some more poems for your viewing pleasure and keep you inform if I do meet Mr. Right. I have a girlfriend over there who is trying to set me up, me being so picky I am not holding my breath. By the way, I read one of my poems last night (Kinky Roots and Rapture) at a spot I visit often on Mondays (www.louderarts.com), it wasn't my first time so I did ok. It was great feeling the support of family and friends who showed up.

We had a CD vendor today who stopped by at my job, I bought two CD's not at all planned but I couldn't help it. I purchased Andrea Bocelli's (Romanza) and Etta James (Love Songs). I fell in love/lust with Andrea's voice when I was flipping channels and saw the commercial for his Romanza cd. I've always been a fan of the opera world, having my Pavarotti collection in hand and 1 cd by Sarah Brightman...so to have Andrea's cd for $10 bucks you can't beat the price.
As for Etta James, she's been a favorite since I first heard the song At Last in a movie which gave me chills all over and then when I found out she's the legendary songstress who sang My Funny Valentine, I was hooked. I think my purchases were worth every dollar and they will keep me relaxed on the 5+ hour flight to Californication :)

I will miss you all...believe me, my fingers will be itching.

P.s. If you are looking for some inspiration while i'm gone stop by my website: www.delaleuwritings.com (feel free to roam around the G-spot and sign my guestbook)

THE KISSING FIELD

I am a little nervous taking you there but I know the magical potency of this vast strawberry field
You seem relax, we talk and laugh casually
You don’t realize how the strawberries are sugaring our conversation and minds

We talk some more, picking and eating heart-shaped strawberries
Your words pleasantly warm
I’m not good at beating around the bush so I tell you how I feel
I crave to kiss you for it is the highest form of intimate delicacy
The art of k-i-s-s-i-n-g is my signature and my long flight of stairs covered in rose petals
I desire to touch your sexy lips with gentle fingers
To peck, smooch, brush my chocolate lips on yours
Fluently nibble, suck and lick
Drugging kisses to sing through your veins
Then I want to plunge my tongue in your mouth

devour and explore your inner core

You interrupt my elocution by surprising me
Offering me your thick and moist tongue
Kissing my mouth smudged in strawberries
Your lips feverishly sweet…and I tingle with my head spinning
Divine ecstasy as I linger, savoring this intensity
And gently you ease me down onto the bed of gratification
Our prerequisite an evolution of orgasmic chocolate

and strawberry kissing confection
© 8/06 by C. Delaleu

LEFT HANDED HEART

Her eyes are fertile and spells relief
The air does something to her
She becomes color blind with craving
Lips nibbling the jealous sunset
On a porch she stands in a flowing teddy
Awaiting his shadow
He swirls quietly behind her
His long fingers contribute moisture
Her famished clit throbs a diagnosis
And the summer’s heat slightly shudders
Coughing up slushy skies in playful positions
She leans her heart on his terrace
And the licorice sun shower is a transitional scene
Smooching her senses between the banda rhythm
Of her left handed heart
Her joy is plastered on yellow peeled walls
©2006 by Cathy Delaleu

PLEASURE PRINCIPLE

I thought I felt it
The heartbeat of a rainbow
After a lover’s duet
The flattering of whispers grin
Mixed with an organza of caress
Thrown by a cool air after a summer’s thunderstorm

I thought my soul reached midnight’s love on foot
With sweat-soaked offerings

I thought I fell into a comatic lust where his name
Is repeated like a favorite continent

I must have been struck by lightning
For I held on to the sheets with an arched back attached to his pulse
Sucking away his sunrise with satisfaction guaranteed
The taste of sherbert on swollen nipples


He pats me on the ass while I nod like a horse in tears
Ending a race filled with petals inside my nostrils

His grin is peppered with semen
Throbbing drums behind an angelic chorus
When he ventures aimlessly with plows
He growls like Africa’s sweet water
Then silence filters
Our breath dimmers lightly
Until he paraphrases oneness with a hump
© 2006 by Cathy Delaleu
www.delaleuwritings.com

Hello Everyone,

Hope you all had a great weekend. The heat in NY is to die for, literally. I stayed in most of the weekend except for Saturday. First let me give you an update, i'm sure you're dieing to know what happened. Friday I had nowhere to go, my apartment had brand new tiles and the landlady called me saying the floors still weren't dry, so I couldn't spend the night or move any furnitures around until Saturday. Since my cousin was making a big deal about me staying another night in the apartment she shares with my brother, a friend's sister offered me her place to crash. Gladys lives in a 2 bedroom appartment with her 13 year old daughter, she made me feel right at home, treated me like family and she even cooked. I really wasn't expecting much, all I needed was a bed to lay my head on. First off I went to my cousin's apartment to pick up my stuff, she wasn't home but my brother was there and he was fuming about me spending the night at a stranger's home instead of family. But he had no control over the situation and although he said he was going to have a serious talk with my cousin, I wanted to make sure I wasn't going to be around to witness them barking at each other. I made it to Gladys' house that evening, she had dinner ready for me and we chatted most of the night. She was like the big sister I never had. On Saturday she went to work until 4pm and I was at her place watching movies and chilling with her daughter, when she got home she suggested we go for a stroll in Prospect Park and we also stopped by the Brooklyn Librairy which is nearby. It was a hot day but it felt great being out feeling the nice breeze at the park and many people were barbequeing. I took some pics with my new digital camera but I have to figure out how to download them to my blog.

It was Saturday afternoon when I contacted my landlady to find out the scoop on my apartment and she informed me the place would be ready after 8pm but after eating a hefty dinner at Gladys and telling her it was time for me to head home, she convinced me to spend another night.

"Why go home so late? what if the floors are still not dry by the time you get there?" she said.

She was right. When I called the landlady again after 8pm she said the floors were not ready unless I'm willing to sleep on a mattress in the kitchen. I stayed one more night at Gladys and the next morning (Sunday 7/30) I left and got home at 11:00am. To my dismay the place was like a zoo, all my furnitures were still in the kitchen and bathroom but when my eyes fell on the tiles I was in love...they did an awesome job.

My apartment looks so much brighter with the new tiles. I've been gone for five days and I think it was worth it, well, except for the tiny drama with my cousin. I had nowhere to sit or lay down and so I moved all the furnitures on my own including the sofa bed. I was sweating like a pig. My back is not hurting yet. Although the landlady had told me to wait for her to come back from church to help me move the stuff around I got impatient, I mean I was there since 11:00 a.m. and she didn't get home until 4pm, what was I going to do all these hours?

By the time she made it home I had all my things in place and she was shock to find out Cathy is indeed SuperWoman :)

Oh yeah as far as my cousin is concerned she never called me to apologize (not that I expected it) and her brother and his wife never slept over the apartment. My brother said it was probably her way of getting me out of the apartment nicely. Will I invite her to my housewarming? I've given it a lot of thought and appreciate all your comments and advice. Most likely she will be invited but I will cross my fingers hoping she doesn't show up.

** Pleasure Principle** I had to post the poem below, I couldn't help it, hope you all like it.

Dear Diary,

It should be a HAPPY FRIDAY, unfortunetly this is day three of me being homeless. Yes, homeless. It is such a vulnerable feeling to wake up knowing you don't have a place to call home. I know I've bragged to everyone here in blog world that I moved to my new apartment a month ago but I feel like a stranger in my own place. Why?

Well for one, I haven't unpacked anything besides some clothes to wear for work. My landlady since the beginning advised me not to unpack anything because the painter/handyman had to first finish painting then put the tiles on the floor of my bedroom and livingroom. To make the story short, she paid him $1500 but was very disappointed when she noticed the work he did with those tiles. She couldn't believe her eyes, the tiles had gaps between them, they looked messy. Basically, she was trying to go the cheap route and got her money's worth. Of course I think the handyman knew nothing about tiles, he was just money hungry.

So Miss landlady learned her lesson and decided to call a professional company this week to install the tiles in my bedroom and livingroom. I came home on Wednesday night to find all my furnitures piled up in my kitchen and bathroom, fresh cement was put in the living room and bedroom. I couldn't believe my eyes, even the bathtub was stuffed with Hefty bags and boxes. My mattress and TV were put in the landlady's garage. All the doors were unscrewed and leaned over on the walls.

My landlady should have called me to warn me, I was pissed. I called her and she explained to me that the company she called to help with the tiles told her I would need to be out of the apartment asap for a couple of days in order for them to put down the tiles. Of course landlady offered me a place to sleep in her house but she had six family members visiting her from Florida. Where the hell was I going to sleep?

"When I get back from church we can figure out the sleeping arrangements for you," she said to me with an angelic smile.

I was burning inside. Too pissed to speak my mind. I went back downstairs to my apartment, packed up some stuff, called my brother who roommates with my cousin and then called a cab service to pick me up. By 8pm I was at my brother's apartment telling him what happened.

I was relieved to know my stay with him and my cousin wouldn't last and it was great to know I have my family's back in this sort of emergency. But last night I get to my brother's house and was ready to take a shower, I ask my cousin what happened to the towel she had given to me that I left in the bathroom. She said nonchalantly she put it in the dirty laundry and didn't know I was spending another night.

"But I told you Wednesday and Thursday I'm going to spend to sleep here," I said.

"Oh, I thought it was only for one day," she said. "Well, ask your brother for another towel."

After she did that, it made me feel like she didn't want me around. Also she kept her bedroom door shut while I was there which I found strange. I really felt uneasy and was convinced she didn't want me around. I called my landlady to hear more updates about my apartment and she explained that the floors won't be ready to be walked on until Saturday and my heart dropped. It means another dreadful night on the couch at my brother and cousin's house, I truly didn't want to spend another night there especially after the towel incident with my cousin.

I e-mailed her this morning and explained to her that my landlady said I can't sleep in the apartment until tomorrow (Saturday), ten minutes later she sent me a reply saying her brother from Florida is coming down with his wife and spending the night at her place and she is letting them use her bedroom. She said she will need to sleep on the couch and that there is no room for me to sleep at her place. My brother called me too saying how upset he was at my cousin who called him at work in a panic because I told her about spending another night in their apartment.

My brother said to her "what's the big deal, Cathy can sleep on the air mattress while you sleep on the couch, she won't be in your way, plus she's leaving early in the morning to go to her place."

She said to my brother she can't entertain me AND her brother and his wife and that five people in a small two-bedroom apartment is way too much, too many people, and she blabbered on and on about errands she has to do today and tomorrow.

"Cathy don't need you to entertain her, all she does is write,how will she get in your way?" my brother said to her.

He apologized to me and said he will call another cousin of mine to ask if I can spend the night there tonigt, I told him forget it and I'll figure out a way. I was saddened by my cousin's attitude because she had no reason to act the way she did, and I always thought we were cool. A year ago she had moved to California and was living with her brother and sister-in-law, she was jobless and was bone-dry broke, she used to call me all the time whining about her bills and not being able to find work. My heart went out to her, I quickly bought her a card and enclosed a money order of $100. She was shock, not expecting me at all to give her that kind of money.

This is the same cousin who treated me this way and now I wonder if I should bother to invite her to my housewarming party. So, I want to hear your opinion, would you invite her to the party?

If someone treats you unfairly especially a family member, would you return back the favor or let it slide for the sake of maturity? For example if my cousin ends up having an emergency later on and needs somewhere to stay...should I even look her way?

I know the saying is true: what goes around comes around, but I am soooo turned off by what she did. Phew! It felt great venting out.

By tomorrow I should be back in my apartment, I hope. There's no place like home.

UNSENTIMENTAL

A psychic told her
That she’s a 7th Daydreamer
With promiscuous tendencies
Taught by the only man who molested her
At eight years old
She was grass-fed with lack of trust
Only learned to keep quiet eyes and legs to herself
In order to fool thuggish men who threw lies
Based on hormonal changes
They heard all the way from Port-au-Prince
To Harlem that she has the best black beans in town
And her fish will make them powerful
They assume she’ll make them lighthearted
With her innocent smile
Unaware that her grind is a cruel whip
Of salt and vinegar
I don’t love easy, she yells to them

Her kisses confuse their heart
With a tale of stale wine
She marches without solace
And chews on trauma until numbness
Reaches over with tear dust
Hushing her to sleep

Their cock prayers wraps around her
as nutritional facts of life
Her bodega is sterling gold used as a doorknob
To cover her surface with their rainstorm
She carries her verbiage as mainstream
Unsentimentally she values some raunchy opinions
©7/06 by Cathy Delaleu

FRONT PAGE
Tell me how to love you upside down
Without falling head over heels with
Irrigation?
Postcoital coos will show evidence
Of emancipation
And with aggression you will
Feel my expression
Tell me how to leap every note of your flesh
And to have your pores weep a composition?
Numbers don’t lie
My inflation is not from lack of deficit
For the record I will dissolve my emotions with fire
And blow ashes to your lungs
Upside down I can love you with sunny side glows
Flamboyantly surf rum to your lips
My calypso string
Is plump with desire

©2006 by Cathy Delaleu

MEET AND GREET
I read his testament tonight with an open mouth to greet
His lava that I swallow like sweet sauce
Each wink is a Jurassic Park of orgasm
With endless road rage
He gives and I take
I give and his world spins
Endless notes
All he can eat without tomorrows
Endless notes
All he can lick
The favorable value of meat
What he eats eagerly is no figure of speech

The metaphors used are meant to wet a visual appetite
All the way down to the nitty gritty of
Stimulation’s performance

And he wonders why my language is unique
Ou as tu trouve cette passion?
Where did you find this passion? He asked

I take him for another spin
Pierce his skin with tangible poetry

Tu es pour moi la definition de l’amour
You are for me the definition of love
Lyrically he is mine
Physically I am his
He versed himself in my philosophy
The use of phrases and abbreviation
Are now understood

We meet and greet not worrying about the future
Today’s print shows no defamation
©2006 by Delaleu

Dear Diary,

Rage was in his eyes. They spoke quietly to me like fireflies. And between ice cream dreams I melted with just one glance. He only offered a look that was enough to get me hooked. His manly swagger made me groan and the sweet sound of violin played a lustful song with high frequency mounting in this clitoral pulsation. He sat confident and with his deep voice requested a drink from the bartender. I watched his lips wooing my mind with a wicked sexual tale. He teased without touching me. I saw myself slipping into his drink. Amaretto sour tongue. Intoxicating myself in his stateliness. Rain was rumored to pour tomorrow, desire’s prediction was now. Strings of violin followed me. Strutting my Creole derriere towards him.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I asked

He looked me up with probing eyes and a sexy grin. Already he was nursing his drink, but soon he might get thirsty again.

Yes, I wanted him bad. The well has been dry for too damn long. I wanted him to know without words what I was seeking. I handed him my business card and walked away.

Later on he was at my place.

I was ready for him.

He blended strawberries and banana with his tongue. My round thighs not shy crawled to him and we milk shake on a feathered bed. The moment he pulled out my G-string we amplified the room with details inducing sugary waves with motion. His large rugged hands clung to my Congo hips and I rattled when his trumpet bi bi bopped with a tune synchronizing with strings of violin. He inserted some chocolate M&M’s inside my vagina. I couldn't believe it, this was a first for me.

“Close your eyes,” he said.

I tried to catch my breath when I felt him go down for a taste test. Oh God, I was in heaven. There was an acoustic response when he licked and sucked and my center string. M&M’s melted in his mouth and violin played louder. The bed squeaked his name over and over. I didn't want the night to end, but we had run out of M&M's and I quickly put on some clothes and rushed to the store to get some more.

SPERMARY WAR

Mount Vesuvius weeps thick lava without the use of protection
Sun swallows heat not burning the flesh
I threw away the grocery list I had stashed inside my jeans for months
No longer needed
My hunger strike is finally over
I run towards him for more
Legs quiver anticipation
With implication his body demands a heavy investment
I fondle his shaft again with patchouli hands
And his huff sounds more like a monstrous horse
Strong gallops of air when his toes curl
Eyes turn into beams of thunder
And I become his spokesperson by gently squeezing heavy balls
Blow hot air on his mouthpiece kissing him with goose bumps
I take him in like a rumbling flute
Glistening his brown cork with flickering flames
Sucking my homeland with inexorable force
My pushpin makes him groan
The sweet, salty tamarind flavor is organically delicious
This cornrow action tortures him
But gives me pleasure
© 5.2006 by C. Delaleu
http://www.delaleuwritings.com/