The Literature Shooter

“I’ve been on four magazine cover pages.” She says softly as she shows me her most fierce poses in her Facebook pictures. I’m looking at the serenity with which she touches my mouse pad and moves her cute fingers. On this picture, she is sitting on a horse, her left hand is holding the rein of the horse and she is turned from the right toward the hind, looking and pointing the berretta behind her. I turn to my left to look at her face, (I can hear myself screaming like a little girl “OMG, is this really you?”...........

I have one destination in mind, the CSU. It’s like I am on auto-pilot everything about me knows where I am headed to but my mind is engulfed in the vast oceans of thought. As I take my long heavy strides while pondering thought after thought, I hear a voice and on whim, I turn to give my attention to John, with his deep voice and steady height at 5 foot 10. We indulged in a few pleasantries. And then, suddenly. Like as if my world had been zoomed out and her side view was slowly zooming in. At this point I can’t comprehend what John is saying. His words are just going in through my right ear and out through my left.

Black boots, oh looking a little sluggish but fitting very boldly, If these boots were an animal – they would be a black mamba. – Loose fitting with slightly opened but neatly tied laces. Almost past the ankles, like army boots they had an essence of strength to them. John must have noticed by now because he had a sly smile on his face and I could hear him say out of courtesy,

“We will finish this later. I will see you around Sheka.”
“Aight.” I said. 

The instance the Ebonics slide of my tongue, it finds its way maneuvering over my lips.
Black thin leggings that held her so firm that it looks like it just a part of her skin. Oh! So smooth – my gaze continues in utter astonishment as my eyes are now exploring the shortest denim shorts that I’ve seen in a while. The fluffy hems of her blue denim shorts stood out from where the leggings disappeared.
“Why am I getting out of my element, I have seen beauty all my life, what is wrong with me.” I wonder as I try to distract myself with my open net-book. I move the cursor but my finger slows down as it moves all over the surface of the mouse pad, I take my time and the smoothness of my mouse pad leaves me wondering about what I’ve just seen. My heart skips a beat and there is a little excitement inside me as she is passing me by.
As fate would have it, we are now walking into the same classroom together when I say,

“Why are you here so early?”
“People are usually here at this time.” She said in a soft tone.
“You are here like an hour early.” I said with a little smile on my face
“Oh my God, I feel so stupid.”
“No, don’t say that.” I retorted with an empathetic tone.
“So, anyway, how was your weekend?” I asked. – making a strong deep focused gaze in to her hypnotizing eyes.

And while we were fluff talking, she began telling me about her wonderful time camping by the lake.
And when she told me about her passions for the wilderness I couldn’t hold it in any longer, so I interrupted her and told her about my passion.
“I love to sit in my room and, …and pretend I’m in the … the.. Wilderness, and write short stories and poetry.

I displayed the poem – [Seduce me] that I had been working on for the last couple of hours.

'Seduce me'

"Seduce me," she said. Undress me,

Slowly..

Using only

Your mind,

Tie your hands

Tonight

I want…

You

To illuminate,

And find

The magnetism

That first

Made me

Bare

Myself

To you.

Caress me

Confidently

Using only

Your desire,

Feel my ache

Tonight

I need…

You

To water,

And make

Love to

The flower

That comes

Alive

When touched

By you.

Seduce me tonight

Instantly, the pupils in her dark brown eyes dilated.

“Oh that’s cool; you should make a career out of it.” She said.
“I did.”
“What do you mean?” She asked.
“I’ve published two books.” As I pulled out my “Desert Rose” and “Tears of my father”

and placed them on the table.
She carefully took hold of the book, scrutinized it a bit and with a flare of amazement painted on her face.

“No way.” Wow! I’m impressed, what are you doing here? ” She sarcastically asked.
“I’m trying to get my literature degree to solidify everything I work hard for,” I humbly said.
And then in a playful tone, “You never know whom you could be sitting next to.” I added

And then in a semi-cocky -playful tone, “You never know whom you could be sitting next to.” I added.
She smiled, and with a hint in her tone she said, “You are right. You never know who you could be sitting next to.”
On whim, I then asked her what her true passion was. The soft spoken girl told me she was a model. When she said this, I looked at her shoes and noticed the way she sits – with her back straight and her legs crossed. There was something about her that was dangerous and bold. I was thrilled not because she was a model, but because of this x factor that was digging into the epitome of my being.

“What kind of model are you?” I inquired with intrigue.
“I am a gun tester, so, I’m pretty much a gun model.

At this point, she was showing me her pictures on Facebook and amidst this curiosity-filled intrigue, I had a flashback - and at once, I was back home in Sierra Leone. A pang of anxiety hit me. I had just discovered a fraction of her dangerous allure. My anxiety was slowly internalized by shadows of sorrow and I could feel heaviness in my heart as I got lost in memories. Memories of: blood diamonds, the civil war, suffering children, love and loss. Even though I was still a child back then, I can still feel remorseful for the people of my country. While I am still lost in the memories of pandemonium, my reminder for the 50strong50wise: “The big hope of giving back” event on Friday goes off. I look at my smart phone and put it on snooze. This brings me back to reality and kick starts my optimism.
I can feel the piercing gaze from her brown eyes move from my phone and put a blanket of intensified tension onto my being. Infested with her stare, I looked into her eyes. I was slowly being sucked into her world; she was hypnotizing me with her look and mesmerizing me with her complex personality. She stared; I stared back - fighting her from sucking me in and instead drawing her into my world. I leaned back and tilted my head a little.

#Saying something, or Saying nothing

I need you close to me,

Saying something, or saying nothing

Wondrous emotion in a mixed up love potion a combination of the mental,

And the physical. I may sound like a fool,

When I say my mind is the tool,

That I'll use to make love to you.

Bring you the ultimate climax,

It may be big, firm, thick, and strong, it may even last long,

But never as long as the images I leave of me -

In your thoughts.

Although it gives you great pleasure,

And those moments I do treasure,

I need you close to me,

Saying something, or saying nothing.

“I could write about you.” It felt like I had whispered but my deep voice made it audible enough for her to hear.
“I’ve been on six magazine cover pages.” She says softly as she shows me her most fierce poses in her Facebook pictures.

I’m looking at the serenity with which she touches my mouse pad and moves her cute fingers. On this picture, she is sitting on a horse, her left hand is holding the rein of the horse and she is turned from the right toward the hind, looking and pointing the berretta behind her. I turn to my left to look at her face, (I can hear myself screaming like a little girl “OMG, is this really you?” ) and then look back at the picture. She is wearing shades and looks like a total “badass.” In light blue denims, she totally looks like she just came out of a movies scene. I refrain from showing how overly impressed I am as she shows me the next picture.

“How did you learn to shoot guns?”
“My father taught me.”

...PART 2 COMING SOON