Voice-Over


Voice Over

Listen to my voice. Listen to the sound of my voice intoned the old Victrola.

Throes of Spiritual Passion
Ecstasy, Passion — A Holy Orgasmic Release.

Leda began her hair color ritual in the usual way. She carefully laid out the tools of her trade on the bathroom sink and the top of the commode. Being a small bathroom there was not much space but Leda made do within her sanctuary. Hair color, towels, mirror, comb, gloves, check. Now Leda was ready. Using a wide tooth comb she divided her thick unruly curls into sections applying even amounts of color first to her roots then all the way through to the ends.

Pulling the comb through her mane Leda envisioned LeRoi’s rough hewn yet well groomed hands entangling themselves within the kinks and knaps of mother Africa all the while gently massaging her scalp and kissing the nape of her neck. Leda massaged the remaining color through her tangled tresses then set the timer for 20 minutes walking the short distance to her bedroom to meditate while the process worked its magic.

During the 20 minutes of meditation Leda visualized her lover LeRoi sitting next to her on the bed speaking softly and gently in his deep Country Kitchen flavored with hints of Brooklyn accent all the while kissing her brows, the bridge of her nose and finally her lips. He sometimes stopped to look deeply into her eyes mentally willing the both of them to become one flesh.

She could feel the bristle of fresh grown five o’clock shadow against her face all the while falling into a deep blend of mahogany skin intermingled with African, Native American and French blood lines. From his lips issued the voices of ancient Kings worshipping the Queens of Africa, Sheba and Candace. Raspy rivulets of Pleasure streamed down her thick thighs.  His hands, His lips, His body emoted sucker cup tendrils adhering to every sensitive site on her body.  Sighs and moans escaped softly parted lips.

Suddenly the buzz of the timer interrupted her reverie and off she went to turn on the shower preparing to rinse out the excess color treatment. As Leda stepped under the powerful flow of the water LeRoi’s spirit stepped in with her and they were transported to the thunder of Caribbean waterfalls, enveloped in thunder of the cascading streams. LeRoi’s hands were like the streams of water entering into every sensitive place of her temple. She could feel his lips and hands as they worked their way down from her neck, breasts to that soft mound of flesh above her pubic area where he loved to rest his head after a night of lovemaking.

He cupped her full derriere with his hands enjoying the firmness of a well developed ass pulling her in and closer to him.

Water and Burgundy ran down over the nooks and crannies of her curves. Fountains of scented oils sprayed anointing from the Seven Continents co-mingling with her own pheromone essence.

Water and Burgundy ran down over the nooks and crannies of her curves. Volcanic orgasmic waves shoot forth.

Ring, ring, ring, the sound of the phone brought Leda out of her fantasy and quickly toweled off and managed to answer before the machine kicked in.

“Greetings Empress of the Seven Lands. I just arrived at JFK. Taking a taxi to your place. See you in a few minutes.”

Leda rejoiced. Her fantasy was about to become real. Her Lover was almost home. Her thoughts wandered to a romantic tryst in the hot tub at their friends chalet.

Ebony Dark Chocolate Dreams ~ The Ultimate Orgasm


Ebony Dark Chocolate Dreams

His touch is Midnight seeping into my pores, saturating my veins and arteries, enveloping my very being. New galaxies are born when I am in his arms.

His voice is Throbbing Black Strap Molasses, Obsidian Opal honey dripped scented pleasure and I am a sponge absorbing every drop of honey syrup anointing. His pulsations become part of my being and we are in rhythmic unison.

Images of him undulate over a winding path from brain to heart. Match ignites flame causing trails of hot candle wax to slip into my peaks and valleys. We are a perfect coupling Symbiosis. We dissolve into the misty morning dawn, daybreak quenched fires, smoldering dreamily fantasy future liaisons.

 

Osiris & Isis
Osiris and Isis

The Black Woman in Society’s Mirror


The Black Woman in Society’s Mirror

It’s dangerous to be a Black Woman over 40 and seeking that special life partner. You’re an entity of exotica, scorn, repellent to some and desired by others. Both Jezebel and Sapphire. Succubus and Saint. Are we sex monsters or vixens. Or have we become the seductive Sirens of Green mythology dangerous and beautiful femme fatales who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting melody and singing to shipwreck on the rocky coasts of their deserted island.

 Do we aspire to Hatshepsut or the Mata Hari?

 At the demands of a modern sex driven society some of us re-imagine ourselves as the Vixen capable of seducing any man, but is this only a self-imposed illusion that aligns and binds us within men’s’ fantasies?

http://82nd-and-fifth.metmuseum.org/monsters

There are special dating challenges for dark-skinned Black women and Black Women over 50. All women have insecurities about their looks and self-worth. Am I ever good enough? Do I measure up?  Thomas doubted Jesus. We doubt ourselves. In the process we lose some of our dignity. We are raised to compete for a so-called small pool of Black men. Daily images of perfectly shaped buff voluptuous curvy young sisters are thrown in our faces by the media. Women must always be perfect.  Perhaps we are more lumpy than curvy.

We must fit the image society has for us. Even though in this country we have the right to choose a marriage partner, but from youth girls are trained to believe marriage and children are the end-all and be-all of life. We aspire to that. We are misguided. Then as you approach 40 some of us become more desperate because that’s when you fall off men’s radar.

 After age 50 you totally disappear. Relegated to the trash heap of modern antiquities. Relics of a bygone era. Back in the day women like me were called spinsters or Old Maids. Heck there was even a kid’s card game called Old Maid and you didn’t want to get that card! Even though we no longer use those terms they are still in the back of our minds.  So many emotions jockeying for position inside our heads and ingrained in our Psyche. I think it is much worse for Black Women. We become veterans of romantic wars at odds with our uniqueness vs. the Stepford Women of society and media.

And we do know that Beauty misplaced may yield the seeds of misfortune.

 In my 20s I was just coming into my sexuality and my imagined power to get men to do my bidding based on my body. In my 30s I yearned to settled down, not necessarily to have children but to play the role of wife. Such a role was never realized. By 40 with both my parents gone and not wanting to spend the rest of my life alone I entered into a long-term relationship with an abusive man who in small doses of love mixed with pain destroyed my self-confidence, belief in myself and planted seeds of doubt that it took years to root out. Age 48 my abuser left me for a younger woman after years of tearing me down. I was rid of him physically but emotional, physical and sexual abuse had taken its toll.

Emotional scars take longer to heal than physical.  More rapidly than I would have like 50 seized me by the synapses and the emotional roller coaster of Menopause played havoc with my emotions and feelings. I had to throw off the shackles of past abuse and find a new me that I could love. So I re-imagined myself into Storm and Cat Woman. Sounds odd but fictional strong female characters allowed me a safe space to grow into this new phase of womanhood. Now at age 54 I can truly say I’m about 95% at peace with myself and for the most part I enjoy the pleasure of my own company. Perhaps one day I’ll dip once more into the dating pool but today it’s all about me. Me being a Unicorn.

Eye of the Beholder

http://youtu.be/xHp9q3QTmVQ

Masks for the Masquerade

http://youtu.be/VOdF7UCf1VQ

Be Original. Be Yourself.

Being me.
Be Original. Be Yourself.

Ms. Afro Rojo signing off.

Me channeling Cat Woman Halloween 2011
Me channeling Cat Woman Halloween 2011

Live from Bodega Land, Brooklyn | Raggedy Man ~ Close Encounters of the Wrong Kind


Live from Bodega Land, Brooklyn

Raggedy Man ~ Close Encounters of the Wrong Kind

Every day before I get on the C train I buy my Daily News, Snapple and a snack. Today was no different. As I’m picking up my items for purchase some raggedy dentally challenged man is having a debate with a sister on being a gigolo. Snagglepuss was bragging on some dude who has a woman who works, pays his way, takes care of their kids and allows him to be lazy while he plays video games. The Sister said if a man wants to assume the wife role then he needs to perform wife duties; i.e., cooking, cleaning house, doing laundry, taking care of kids, etc…. not laying up playing video games. Pumpkin head didn’t like her answer still wanting to be King of the Castle without being a breadwinner. Meanwhile the Arab guys who own the bodega are laughing their heads off.

The entire conversation was so stupid and Mr. No Teefus followed me and the sister out the store trying to drag me into the conversation with “I don’t like these role changes. They ain’t no jobs out there!” I told him you need to stop being so lazy, get an education because there are jobs available. I wanted to add, “Yo’ funky ass needs to take a bath, cut or comb wiry shit you call hair and get some damn dentures and stop using sob stories trying to pick up women. Drinking and trying to con the Arab storeowners out of cigarettes, candy & soda is not an occupation. Neither is drug dealing and robbing working class people. No Negro you do not have the hook-up. You just a sorry toothless wonder looking like a decrepit Alfred E. Neuman!

Calling All Dentists! Please move to Brownsville & Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn ASAP! There is an epidemic of dentally challenged toothless men wandering the Hood in need of Dentures!

I’m Gonna Keep Sitting on it Scrubs


Storm
Storm — Power over the Elements

I live in Bodega-Land, Brooklyn. Exchange at the Bodega across from the Laundromat. I’m wearing an old Ecko Red short sleeve shirt and some skinny jeans. I’m waiting for my Beef Patty with cheese and coco bread. While I’m paying for my food and drink I get the following rap from Snagglepuss. “Ya keep ya body nice. Can I get your number and can I give you mine.” I’m polite and keep that smile on my face knowing I’m about to reject this fool because I don’t want any confrontation before I get to eat my food or check my clothes washing across the street.

He notices that I speak proper English and says; I see that you’re an intellectual. Hmmm I’m thinking just because I live in the Ghetto doesn’t mean I must lapse into Ghettoese or Ebonics. Crooked teeth continues, maybe you and me can get together and discuss spirituality, blah, blah, blah, bullshit. You know the way that Rasta Negro was eyeing me up and down his mind wasn’t on the things of God or any type of Spiritual talk. Leon Spinks just wanted to find a way to get some “Coochie”. I lied and told him I had a boyfriend. I just wanted to get away from his sorry ass, finish my food and get my laundry done. Mission Accomplished.

However in the words of the immortal Ruth Brown, “I’ll Just Keep Sitting on it. I ain’t giving it away.” Rochdale Village had its share of old coots prowling for “Coochie” I see Brownsville/Bed Stuy has it’s own share of horny fools with really lame game.
http://youtu.be/KPll4sQDssU

 

Talk to the Hand cause the Face ain't Listening.
Talk to the Hand cause the Face ain’t Listening.

Ladies, always remember Men are like the City Bus there’s another one coming in 20 minutes hopefully with good teeth, fresh breath, who bathes and uses deodorant.

Honey if you’re game is lame and your rap is weak don’t even think of stepping to me. No romance without finance. And no I don’t do Ugly, fat or Stupid. I may be broke but I’m never desperate. I’d work 40 hours of overtime before I hook up with your no job, no car, no talking sorry hoodrat/thug/bad boy ass. Been there. Done That. Paid the Price.

http://youtu.be/pKV8uSX2nEQ

TLC -- No Scrubs
TLC — No Scrubs

Ladies you gotta let these men know what’s up. They telling you they can do acrobatics with their dick! Really! Are they fucking double jointed or contortionists? Give me a fucking break. Please! Why is their dick so much more special than any other. Is it extra long? Does it swing from side to side. WTF! Then they a fucking freak and belong in Ripleys Believe it or Not. Or maybe they should be making porno films. I’m older and wiser now. Dick don’t mesmerize me anymore. Get something in your head or you’ll never get me in bed. My body is my temple and only my true King who I choose can enter in. Don’t get it twisted. Little boy your package does not impress me.  In the meantime Losers give your Ding-A-Ling a hand job.

My Ding-A-Ling

 

Ladies if you’ve had the best don’t settle for less.

Get up off your broke ass, fix your face , see a dentist and fix your teeth, and get an education and a decent job. If you can’t come correct don’t come at all.

Hello Summer in the City!

 

Talk to the hand cause the face ain't listening.
Talk to the hand cause the face ain’t listening.