brooklyn babe blossoms: "Blue Lights in the Basement"

As she scurried across the now deserted streets of Brooklyn, in what appeared to be nothing but a short bubble coat that revealed her track toned runner legs, her walk announced defiance. Her heels not high enough to hide her age.

Even though her body said the contrary; from the neck down her body spoke a grown woman's language. As her once plum shaped breast eagerly stood at the attention of onlookers' admiration, in its now present full cantaloupe form. Her hips bellowed out like that of a woman's moan, only to be muffled by the arch in her back which precisely introduced her "apple bottom."The clicks of her heels competed against the sounds 20 degree gales that ebbed and flowed as she hussled through the wee hour winds to her first BlueLights in the Basement (Bashment) Party.

Upon reaching the historically intact brownstone she approached the front door, in haste stepping down two steps to huddle from the cold within the entryway. She tapped once then pause, and then tapped three more times, nothing. Her knuckles now numb from frost, she tried again, tap, pause, tap, tap, tap. The door opens, as a blue haze of sensimilla smoke escapes into the crisp night, a long locked dred at the door greets her with eyes of glaze, the bass of ghetto sized speakers vibrate at her feet, as she's allowed entry with a nod. Once inside the the jammed packed party,

she stands like a tourist taking in a scene only viewed on a postcard, for the first time. Adjusting to dimly lit aclove, she spotted him. Her naivete returns full force as the herbal hemp bouquet try their best to entranced her. Her defenses are down as her senses start to give in.

To divert her nervousness she looks away quickly for familiar faces in her crew, once located, and head nods acknowledged, she looked back to his position. Gone. Her awkwardness began to ease, as she felt secure enough to be a bit unruly, just a bit. Like a runner before the race she slowly warmed up her waist underneath her coat, to sounds of the hypnotic reggae rhythms; as the voice of "Sanchez" summoned her with his rendition of the Boyz to Men track "If I ever Fall...."

Unzipping her bubble coat, she began to reveal her outfits were at conflict, the coat said winter, while her outfit underneath said sizzling summer. As if on cue, the removal of her coat had the assistance of distinct hands coming from behind her. To nervous to look back, as her coat disappeared, she cheesed on the inside, but set a straight indifferent face on the outside. He eloquently drew her too him with the pull of just two fingers. With the boom of the bass still pounding under their feet, they began to dance. A deep silent dance. As warm hands began to massage and melt the steel of cold legs, like therapy, she felt her stomach begin to flutter; as these hands started to reach for parts that were most naive to her... she feared her contract was about to be breached....

An excerpt from my book peeps, just wanted to share.... Princess Dominique .... *thanks and hugs*

Brooklyn Zoo