VERSE
Jadeite
Down On Me by Jeremih featuring 50 Cent
“Systems thumping party jumping
Shawty she’s a perfect ten
She rock her hips than roll her hips
Than drop it down like it’s nothing
She shaped just like an hour glass
She see how fast an hour passed
Time flies when I’m on that ass
But I won’t put our shit on blast
Work it like a pro pro pro
Sit and watch it go go go
Do her thing all on the floor
She bounce it fast and shake it slow
So sexual incredible
She beautiful she edible
I got her I won’t let her go
I ain’t seen nothing better yo
Look at how she twerk it
The way she work it
Make me wanna hit it hit it
Heaven when I’m in it in it
If I do not fit, I’m gonna make it
Girl you can take it
Don’t stop get it get it”
The Black Badge Phantom pulls up in front of The Constantinople
The evening was clear
the roads cleaned,
washed from an earlier downpour
Olivier steps out from the driver’s seat
to open the passenger door behind,
Alexa steps out decked in an all black affair
She straightens her collared black bear fur coat
Her five-inch leather stilts ready to strut
She could hear the bass and thumping beat
coming from the nightclub within
“Olivier, they’re playing Jeremiah. How fitting considering how it’s all going down in exactly … ”
Alexa looks at her platinum Ball Trainmaster on her wrist.
“… twelve minutes”
Just put it down on me
Put it down on me
Down down on me
Put it down on me
Her face hidden behind a black mask,
tonight she wore her green contacts
to match her Burmese Imperial jade studs
heirloom from the grandmother
from the Kachin state
Alexa saunters through the entrance
Olivier follows beside
surveilling her surroundings
with eyes of a sub-Saharan African martial eagle
his prowess and protective instincts like
the wingspan of the Great Philippine
The scars on his face
makes him a ghastly figure to look at
by those
easily feeble by the macabre
Scars brought upon by a perforating explosive
protecting the President
Now he is an Edgar Allan Poe character,
Alexa’s shadow, like the Narrator
from The Murders in the Rue Morgue:
Had the routine of our life at this place been known to the world, we should have been regarded as madmen — although, perhaps, as madmen of a harmless nature. Our seclusion was perfect. We admitted no visitors.
Alexa was to envelop the night
with the enticing Shumukh,
rarest in the world
a five century-blend of notes
of amber, sandalwood, musk, rare pure Indian agarwood, pure Turkish rose, patchouli ylang-ylang, and frankincense
with drops of White Eden
a derivative of VX
the most potent of all nerve agents
as it enters through skin
White Eden: A poison poetry of collapse and chaos through biological subtleties.
Alexa cuts through the dancefloor
The thumping bass was too irresistible to unattend
She stops and close her eyes
She dances like an enigma to the hypnotic rhythm
“I love the way you grind that booty on me
Shawty you a dime why you looking lonely
We’ll buy another round and it’s all on me
As long as I’m around put it down on me
Just put it down on me
Put it down on me
Down down on me
Put it down on me”
Alexa opens her eyes and swaying to her hips
responding to her movement
was the most delectable
latte-skinned Adonis
with an immaculate trim
on his chin
His familiar toned physique
in a crispy white shirt
unbuttoned intentionally
bearing the all too familiar chest
Moving seductively,
wilding those titillating Yemen curls and Afro-Arab nose
Behold the wild black al-Muhamasheen stallion
of the desert kingdom
Alexa bites her lips hidden beneath her mask
“Girl you go that secret treasure
I’m gonna put that lock on it
Don’t care what they say
I would be stupid to be not on it
Heard you go that sticky
Lets go and take nine shots
Leaning in close and breathing into Alexa’s left ear
as if speaking into her precious jadeite,
the majestic stallion speaks,
“We meet again Glock19 of Alexa
your entrance anthem never gets old,
my Siberian erotica”
“Girl you are a beauty well I am a beast
They must have been trippin’ to let me off the leash”
With her eyes still closed dancing against the throbbing bass
Alexa slips her left hand down the regal stallion’s left trouser pocket
Silken fabric,
soft and plush
sliding a vial of White Eden
deep and rhythmically down, down, down
purring against his body heat
Turning slowly
to whisper into his ear
“We, Aslan, never get old.
Careful now, my scent is deadly,
No antidote”
“Life, my dear Madame, has no antidote” Alqadri smiles,
as he watches Alexa gait towards the exit
like a mystery he can’t ever solve
a story he hasn’t stopped reading
It was the same for Aslan,
the Yemeni legend of the middle east,
Known as the phantom of the desert
Perhaps the oldest vampire to work for the President.
From the Padrona Alexandria Gustav series:
