the minister's latest passion
meandered through crowded streets.

dark wild waves tamed only
by the silken colors of her people

she glowed in heat

he knew she'd come

this daughter
of Kushite kings
of Fulani warriors
of Cherokee chieftains

a heady
spicy
even dangerous
mixture

his loins yearned

from a distance he saw her and
sweat beaded
around
high cheekbones
and sharp nose

are there such things as
tropical highs in Paris?

must be
'cause he never felt
as deep a stirring
in his very being

he could feel
her strength
her wisdom
her warmth
her full smiling lips
waiting to be kissed

he dabbed his brow
tasted salty stinging
sweat dripping
onto pale pink lips
yet they were sensual
full of flavor

and many tales

if he so inclined to tell

"they'll never know..."

she drew closer
closer still
so he could see her glory

Burnt sugar skin
wide and warm
October-brown eyes

full breasts bobbed as she walked
up many steps and through the door
her 'big mama' hips waving to the crowd
of young men longing to possess her

but don't you touch her
says the old man standing
in the shadows of the Palais

you be as good as dead

no sir, no man touches the Minister's lady

the minister smiled

yes

no one touches this lady
except me
for only I drink the juice
of plump black cherry lips
only I experience the intense
maddening intoxication
of her sweet scented skin

and only I have the pleasure
of laying between
generous, toned, willing thighs

what she does to me

you'll never know

never know my sheets
full and wet from her tongue

never know the joy
of having your manhood stroked

by that sweet
warm
wanting
hungry
mouth

you'll never know
how it feels
to be ripped to shreds

that quivering throbbing
sensation when she tightens
around my love surging
through her wet sugared walls

Oh!

the final explosion into
her feminine depths

you will never know

the minister's reverie
send blood racing
to private locales

only known by an exclusive circle
of adoring women

But for tonight
this was her night

he looked forward to after
the love
because later she would
hold him
cuddle him
rock him
serenade him

"Hello, Claude"

"Good Afternoon, my love"

"I trust you have the honey."

"Yes, darling. It's dark, sweet and wild, like you."

He smiled a
sexual smile
as his loins tightened
in amorous anticipation

And you'll never know
how good honey can be
licked neatly from
firm ripe deep
butterscotch melons

"Claude, what's so funny?"

"May I pour this over your...?"

She rocked him as always
after their sessions
sticky sweet honey congealed
in her dark wavy mane

it was funny
but he liked this part best

the cuddling
the closeness
the shelter of her arms

"And they'll never know, Danisha"

he feels her lips upon
gray hair mussed
plastered with sweat

he sighs and drifts
to another world only known

to him
and to her

"No one will ever know, Claude."