Master

I am your master
Do what I say
Drop to your knees
Cum where I lay

I am in control of you
Do what I need
Lick me all over
My breast I will feed

I am your master
Make me a fiend
Whisper that dirty
Make your girl cream

I make you work
With no break in between
Because your pussy is so lean

I am your master
Make me eat rug
Pull on my hair
Pretend you're a thug

I force you to take me
like a thief in the night
Hot tears come down
As I put up a fight

I am your master
Don't be afraid
Rape me with love
Do what I say

The Sacrifice In the Park

I was recently at the neighborhood park with the little one. It was such a beautiful day. The sun was shining and I was looking forward to the quiet time as I watched the munchkin play. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the caress of the cool breeze on my neck. I refused to think of the long list of things I had to do. I just wanted to enjoy the moment and listen to my baby girl laugh.

After a few minutes, a young couple sat on the bench closest to me while (what looked like) their set of twin girls ran to the slide with frantic urgency. The couple was quiet at first. He looked distracted and she looked tired.

"So, I think we can swing me going back to school", she said. "I researched the tuition and class times are flexible."
"I don't know, Karen. I don't think it's a good time. Maybe you should wait til the kids get older; plus you know my mother is sick", he said.

Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I started messing with my blackberry hoping they would save the conversation climax for later. She shot me a look. I pretended not to see.

"Well, we talked about this David. I have some money saved and I am confident we will be ok", she whispered.
"No, we need to talk about it later. Besides, you need to concentrate on helping me with my Mom & Dad's anniversary party", he said.

And just like that she quietly said, "Ok, you're right." You could tell she didn't have anymore fight left in her. Clearly this was not the 1st, 3rd or 5th conversation where he has shut her down.

I immediately felt for her. It's one thing to sacrifice for those beautiful girls...Hell, I could write a book on that one. The benefit of children clearly outweighs the pain, suffering and sacrifice of your time & freedom. But when you give up your goals, desires or wishes...that's quite a different story. Timing seemed to not really be the issue. Timing seemed to be his excuse...keeping her in a box while she continues to be a "pleaser". But is he really to blame? She says yes to everyone but herself, as she sits in the park exhausted from her unfulfilled life. Shame on her...and shame on me because I could easily be her if I hadn't changed my attitude not so long ago.

I was born a "pleaser". I wanted everyone to like me, love me and make everyone happy -my Daddy, boyfriends, girlfriends, boss - even if it meant sacrificing myself. I recently realized you can't please everyone so you really have to be clear on what your goals and needs are so you can adjust your relationships and actions accordingly. I have to make sure I am aligned with those that are on the same path..preferably closer to where I hope my journey will take me.

I don't want to wake up at the club at 40, looking for some rich dude that will never love me. And I damn sure ain't looking for a man who feels it's never the right time to live life.
I am enjoying all the love I am receiving and deserve. The man I love loves my imperfections too, celebrates me and would never say the timing is bad. I surround myself with women who understand the balance I struggle to maintain, the demanding juggle of my life - parenthood, career, family and romance - then they support me in growing to become a more healthy positive person. I push my boss for more opportunity and more training and he listens. I build a more equally loving and respectful relationship with my father instead of being scared of disappointing him.

So I guess you can say I am blessed. Fortunate that I have discovered that how you take the journey of life matters...not just the end result. I know now it's my time, my life, and no more sacrificing my true self.

As I watched my munchkin push the twin girls in the swing, the couple commented on how mature and confident my baby girl was. "Yes, thank you. I hope I had a little bit to do with that", I said.

-C

Simply A Love Jones

It's when you love his mind and personality too...but all you keep thinking about is kissing his abs as he strokes your hair.

It's when he texts you at the same time every morning just to acknowledge how beautiful you are...again and again.

It's when you call him 3 times a day with absolutely no reason to call other than to hear his voice tell you something you already know.

It's when he never wants you to leave, even when you can't have sex with him.

It's when you think about doing that thing you never do but will now do just for him.

It's when he blows the money he was saving for something special for himself, and spends it on trying to impress you...not for the booty, but just to see you smile.

It's when you crave the taste of his lips everyday, 10 times a day.

It's when he talks about taking care of you and tells you how he will do it.

It's when you hope he is happy in your arms every time.

It's when he loves you more than he's loved anyone.


-C

Waiting to Inhale, Exhale or Just Waiting

Just 2 days after Christmas and I was happily camping out at my Dad's house in Jersey for a much needed tune up. I was enjoying the peace and quiet of deer country when my alter ego began itching for a trip to my old stomping ground...just over the mountain and through the woods to Brooklyn. Ironically, I ran into Monica, one of my coolest and feistiest home girls from the Empire state, at the neighborhood liquor store outside of Princeton.

What's up Mo?! "What are you doing here?", I ask. "Girl, I just came out here to catch my boyfriend (now ex-boyfriend) cheating". "What?!", I whispered with a scream. I was trying not to startle the 90 yr. old cashier who probably retired from his real job 30 years ago. I was actually shocked by this news even though we've all been reminded by the behavior of Mr. Woods, cheating is a popular sport. What a shame. The last time I talked to Monica, marriage was the topic of choice.

"Yeah girl, I knew that nigga was cheatin but I just had to catch him red handed so I could put closure to this bullshit of a relationship we had". She was so calm and a bit nonchalant with her words. She was conversing like we were at a water cooler casually gossiping about the office whore. All of a sudden she stopped her rant and turned to me like she just thought of a cure for cancer. "Yo, you want to come to my "Fuck Him" party tomorrow night?!", she pretty much demanded, while grabbing a Grey Goose bottle without even looking at it.

I couldn't help but chuckle, even though the circumstance wasn't funny. Monica is a NY city cop from Jamaican decent...pretty girl but her dominant personality can be quite intimidating, even for the most aggressive man. The fact she didn't run up on this dude like G.I. Jane with her loaded gun was quite impressive. Of course I agreed to come to the party. I mean really? How could I miss the opportunity for a bitter "I don't need a man" session. If anything, it would be a good laugh. Plus, I was already a little bored with watching step mom bake brownies and re-arrange Christmas decorations.

It's party night and I'm the last one arriving at the house. There are about 12 women there...a lot more than I expected. And then there's Monica - sitting in the middle of the floor in the midst of all her cheerleaders, clearly wasted, talking shit and laughing out loud with exaggerated insults for the guilty party. But when no one was looking I saw her eyes close as she inhaled. But I don't remember seeing her let go.

I needed a drink. I looked for the wine but the only poisons on the table were Jack, Goose, Crown and E & J. Uhh ok, I guess this isn't an afternoon brunch.

So me and my Crown are flirting with each other while this cheater hater party turns into an urban Dr. Phil show knock off.

"Michelle, he will never marry you baby. You really need to just decide what you want to do. Your pussy hairs gonna be all gray before he even thinks about committing to your ass." Brooklyn bitches don't pull any punches, I swear. I didn't know who the girl was that was talking to Michelle, but I damn sure knew Michelle. Michelle's middle name should be doormat. Poor thing has been dating a guy for 5 years who doesn't even acknowledge her in public as anything other than "hey". He doesn't listen to her, know her or love her. I bet he says all the right things in bed to keep her on it but that's all he will give. He tells her he's not the marrying kind but really he's just not the faithful kind. Sad, sad, sad. Michelle reminded me of Robin from the movie Waiting to Exhale, so weak and insecure.

I looked around the room and realized that most of these women had tragic love stories...sad tales of lies, heartache and disappointment. I wasn't laughing. This wasn't fun.

But then there was Simone...the only bit of sunshine I felt in the room. Married for 2 years, happiness was seeping out of her pours. Her husband, Jeff is romantic, understanding, supportive and loving. And you experienced this just from her 2 anecdotes and 5 minute phone conversation we all overheard them have earlier that night. I call Simone and Jeff hope. They represent the hope for true and honest love. Sort of like my Dad and step mom, who have been married over a decade and treat each other like newly weds. All they do is constantly exhale...loving and appreciating each moment of their lives they share together, yet maintaining themselves as individuals.

So, as I looked around the room at all those women...some inhaling, exhaling and even waiting to exhale, I asked myself, "Where do I fit in this picture frame?"What kind of woman am I in my relationship? Still figuring that out, but I am certain of one thing. That party reminded me of just how many fucked up women are out here looking for love in fucked up places. So, I need to stop waiting...waiting for Heaven or Hell to come. I'm going to breathe in and out nice and easy and try not to be that bitch in the middle of the floor.

-C

Lost

Deep in the forest with no light from the Sun
I question the absence of fear
The cold wet mud molests my toes

And makes me feel so queer

I look up above and see no clouds
Just God dancing around the trees
Where is he now, has he left me
As I drop down to my knees

Should I take a chance on that broken road
And follow my writing hand
Or embrace the blind walking
And skip to the song of that distant band

My delirious laughter is not so funny

Simply a blanket for my panic
Body stuck deep in the mud

Oh so scary in this dark green Titanic

-C

Greed

What if I just want it all? What if I want to have my cake, ice cream and whipped cream on the side? Life is all about compromises, they say. But why does it have to be? As long as I am clear in my communication, honest in my needs and desires, and sensitive in my approach, can't I have it my way and take the whole pot of gold?

We all know about the 7 deadly sins: Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Sloth, Wrath, Envy and Pride. My knees are already bloody raw from praying for forgiveness on Lust and Wrath...but what about Greed? Am I going to Hell 3 times?

The truth is, I want everything. That's right, I said it. I want absolutely everything.

My boss came into my office yesterday and told me he wanted me, and ONLY me, to handle this potentially large account...an account that has my name and co-worker's name all over it. Knowing the answer already, I asked him if she was coming to the meeting. "No", he said. "I just want you". I'm already drowning in social and corporate events for the month totaling about $100,000, so I am definitely not playing with my pussy under the desk. I almost felt bad for her but then quickly stopped bullshitting myself. I want to say I didn't stand up for her because I know if it were reverse, she wouldn't fight for me, as I've watched her take from me not so long ago. No, No. That wasn't the reason. I didn't fight for her because I want that reward all to myself and will take all the shit that comes with it, especially if it means helping me get to the next level. You see, I demand more...and dammit, I deserve it. My boss didn't GIVE me that opportunity, I busted my ass for it and I'm not compromising anything.
Am I a bitch? Yes. But like Laurence Fishburne's character told Ellen Barkin's character in Bad Company regarding the mentally challenged kids - - "I think of them as much as they think of me". We are not friends, so it is what it is. I don't smile, rub your back and take from your pocket. I smile, rub your back while I take from the vault that you missed while running your mouth. Yes, life is about being loving, kind, warm and friendly. But it's also about taking yours, because no one is going to GIVE you shit.

Now professional greed is easy...very straight forward. Love, on the other hand is complicated, sticky and messy. I crave them all...even the ones I'm not fucking or don't even know yet. If my ex-therapist was reading this, she'd book me a session quick. But the bitch was way too much money when in the end I knew I was going to be a bad girl anyway.
So, I take the man who wants to love me, even if I don't love him. Give me time though, it may happen. Is that selfish? More selfish of him since he knows I love someone else, don't you think? But I guess he's greedy too. Well, good for him.
I also take the man who takes care of me, massages my heart, mind and body. He knows how to keep me wanting more and more, and so much more. I lie about wanting all of him in any way, shape or form.
I mean really, I capture them all...trap all my love. I take all the hot flirts, suave players, nervous geeks, creative musicians, mama's boys, loners, mysterious romantics...all of them. And when I say take them, I mean take their admiration, their desire, their curiosity and wrap it around me like an electric blanket. Yes. Love me. Want me. I am greedy and won't apologize for it.

In the attempt of being a good girl, I researched the opposite of greed. Come to find out the flip side of greed is charity. Hmm, charity. I think I've given more than my share. No thanks.


-C

Free Milk

I'm weary of being an emotional whore...a soft squishy sponge. I find myself taking in all the goodness that looks and feels like love, soaking it up and then watching it seep through my pores. Wet and warm it is, but in reality, not so bueno. You see, when I ring out...there's nothing. Nothing left but a little moistness, which eventually becomes a stale mildewy scent in my mind. I'm quite exhausted of loving and obsessing over the fantasy. The craving of it is getting old, when deep down in my soul, I know that shit isn't happening. If it was going to happen, it would've played out already. So many reasons for it not to, but not one reason why it could. So enough is enough.

Love doesn't mean a damn thing when not watered or fed, stroked, appreciated or reciprocated.

So why put it first? Don't get me wrong...I love love. It's soft, sweet and so optimistic...even without the dangle of marriage. Because let's be real. Love, within itself, is truly a commitment anyway. Do I really need to promise God in front of all my family and friends that I'm going to never leave - when quite frankly, I'm not really sure? Well, that's another thought for another day.

The point is, I've decided to STOP being that squishy sponge... a seduced victim of the "yummy" these men call love, care, desire, need, lust...whatever sounds good to them.

"I care about you, baby".

No, you care about yourself and consistently display that lie into the mirror to make you feel better about drinking my milk for free. Well, no more free milk. You have to pay for it. And I don't necessarily mean with money, although I will take that. You have to give me the best of you. I need your top shelf self if you even want the opportunity to experience my love, care, desire, need or lust.

It's funny to me how some men think they are better than the others because their frosting is sweet, chocolate and smooth like I like it. While the competition may be coated with an old and hard sugar crusted frosting. Well, let me just tell you...A donut is a fucking donut. And it doesn't really matter which kind you are in the big scheme of things. If the end result is the same (which is me leaving the scene unfulfilled), then it's like a group of toy soldiers standing in front of me - not one distinction among any of them.

My new focus is simple. I am done with the lie...moving forward and seeking new opportunities to experience what I deserve...which is the best of the best. No more appeasing emotional strokes with whispers of, "You like that, baby. How's this? Is that enough?" No, it's not enough anymore.

I once told someone my pussy is priceless. The question is how much am I willing to accept to allow the right man to enjoy it. I was joking (well kinda). But, that is definitely true in regards to me as a lover and friend, the value of my time and how I'm going to treasure myself.

I'm going to miss the cookies I've been eating...so comforting and tasty at that moment. And I know my milk will be missed. But it's time to shelf it now and wait it out for a little bit of pay back.

-C