Rhythm And Blues II

R&B was sunk low in his Mercedes seats. The Isley Brothers playing, “In-between The Sheets”. The Music was blaring, and he was speeding down the street. Windows down low. The wind was blowing. this passenger’s hair was flowing. It was all exhilarating!
R&B’s lifestyle was music and woman. A womanizer, perhaps. However, the woman loved his ‘ize. So illicitly, R&B solicited and switched women consistently. Blowing his saxophone, his R&B was Teddy Pendergrass; Wherever he laid his hat was his home exclusively!
She was in the passenger seat sneaking peaks of him while he drove. He was so sexy, She thought. It was the way that he leaned back in the seats of the luxury machinery. He imposed his R&B composition upon her freewill. His music ran through her soul. Vibrations ran through her mind. Chills ran up her spine.
In his presence, she was lost. She was soft on him. His tempo was fast. On cloud 9, she was flying through the streets. She couldn’t wait till the day, when they met in between his sheets.
Aisha was her name. And she was in love with R&B’s Tempo. The faster the 563 AMG moved, the hotter she became. She was feeling on herself to the rhythm of, “In-between the sheets.”
Aisha was a political freak. Local council woman, Aisha Roe. Also, Small Black Business Owner. Her restaurant “YAMS” was located on the corner of Delaware and Mediterranean avenues. Serving the best soul food in Atlantic City. Aisha was doing it for the community.
His R&B had her doing it to herself. Her Red Bottoms were on his dashboard. Her skirt was inched over her waist. Her wedding-band-hand was resting on her favorite place.
R&B and Aisha’s understanding was on occasions she would slip out of her home under official pretenses. A council meeting. They would rendezvous by the beach uptown on main avenue. Then R&B would romantic her on the sand by the ocean’s ebb. He had the candles lit, they glew in the moon’s silhouette. He blew on his saxophone, all-night-long. The ocean’s waves caressed her legs. Quixotic. Picturesque.
“Sing to me councilwoman,” R&B will say in between the note. Her voice was precious. With his saxophone a vocal chords, they made heaven.
After the sand he raced the 563 up Absecon boulevard. He was returning her home. “Why do we always have to make love in the sand?” Aisha would say in-between moans. “Why can’t we ever do it in-between your sheets?” She was in the passenger seat. Her legs were still raised on the dashboard, and she was still massaging herself. She was headed home to her husband singing another man’s R&B.
“If we make love in-between my sheets baby, your husband’s praying nose will catch a whiff of my R&B. And he’ll go crazy!” R&B sped in the direction of Aisha’s home the AMG’S accelerations was making her moan. Aisha was strumming her chord, singing that same tired song, “I don’t want to go home.” H6er eyes were closed. Her range was climbing, “take me home with you. I want to spend an eternity wrapped in-between your sheets.” Her climax.


On cue, the Mercedes coasted to a halt in front of the councilwoman’s home. “Fix yourself lady…” Her hair was passionately displayed. Sex was dripping down her legs. Sand dusted her skirt. Thus, this is the way that R&B usually returned her home.
R&B was confused as to why Aisha’s husband didn’t kick her to the curb. R&B shook his head. Aisha could never belong to her husband. Her husband share her with R&B.
“Until next time.” Was R&B’s farewell
“O, R&B.” Aisha said waving her hand, as she stepped out of R&B’s Mercedes.
The audacity Of The councilwoman, she entered her home into the arms of her husband’s arms, “hey baby, I’m home.” She had the temerity, to kiss him so tenderly.
Henry had an inkling that Aisha was creeping with R&B. Often when Aisha arrived home from her and R&B’s official business, she was dusted with sand and smelled of romance. Just a hint.
Henry put nothing but trust in his lady. He would never question her love. Besides, if Aisha ever took his love away, he would go crazy. If this inkling was more than a hint and an actual intrusion upon his love, what would he do, what he do the next time she entered their home? Oh, he didn’t want to know.
The entire time that Aisha spent gone with R&B, Henry spent drinking Seagrams extra dry gin. All the while, wondering when will Aisha be home. A reflection of what he thought was flashed upon his visual screen: Aisha singing to the blow of R&B’s saxophone.
“O, O, O,” was his groan. Henry didn’t want to know. So each time Aisha arrived home, Henry would erase his contemplation of the assassination of his wife from his mind. Kissing on Aisha she smelled of sex, wine and the ocean. But not the scent of R&B.

“Tanisha Abreau… Tanisha Abreau, please report to the front desk.” Tanisha’s name was blasted through the Atlantic City medical centers intercom. Her job. “Uh, that’s a first,” Tanisha said to her coworker slash best friend Rhonda. Tanisha was standing at Rhonda station, the two of them gossiping about “Such and Such” latest post on the gram.
“Let me see what they want… calling me like I’m a patient.” She left Rhonda’s the station. Tanisha’s hair was straightened and pulled into a ponytail. Her hang time was on drip. Her Scrubs were on tight. Her attitude just switched, from polite to on stink.
They had some nerve blasting her name through some intercom. Especially while she was on break. She stepped off of the elevator. Her ebony-vanilla radiated a slight red. Her emotions, she wore on her sleeve, they were reflected through her tone. And at this instance, she was hot. A professional hot. Someone was getting cursed out, respectfully so.
Since Tanisha broke up with “Such and such”, she was less tolerant of people and their agendas. It was time for her to be all about herself. And dare she say it, “Fuck everybody!” Tanisha was on her egocentric shit. She had somewhere to be in this life, and that place was called success. Tanisha believed that she deposited too much of herself into other people with no return on her investment..
Tanisha rounded the corner, “Nana” her eyes brightened upon her Nana’s sight. Her vanilla hue turned bright. “What are you doing here Nana?” Tanisha asked, falling into Nana’s warm embrace.
“Just thought I’d bring you some cookies.” Said Nana.
“To my job,” asked Tanisha, slumping her shoulders.
“Since you haven’t been to the house in over a week, how else am I going to be able to see you?” She said pinching Tanisha’s cheek.
“I’m sorry Nana, I’ve been… just overwhelmed.”
“I don’t wanna hear no sorry,” Nanna said, cutting Tanisha off. “I just wanna hear you at my home tonight or I’ll be bringing more cookies…” She handed Tanisha the tray of cookies, “You understand?”
“Yes Nana.” Tanisha hugged Nana and saw her off. Now Tanisha was returning to work refreshed. Oh what seeing Nana did to her spirit. The lady was informal and sweet and she expected nothing less in turn.
In the process of Tanisha making this about me only transformation, she forgot about Nana. She shook her head and went back to work.

Published by korymcclary1221

My name is Kory McClary, I am 34 years old. I am currently serving a lengthy sentence at the New Jersey State prison in Trenton, New Jersey. I am fighting for my freedom so that I may return to my family and loved ones. Yet, I know that it is a long, tough, and bitter battle to achieve that goal. But, with the grace of God Almighty, and for the sake of my family, I will fight on. I am using this blog as a medium to enhance my voice and to bring awareness to my unfair condition leading out of my unjust conviction. While spending almost all of my time in a cell, I chose to write so that I may voice the reality of my situation, because without awareness there can never be Justice...! To escape the harsh reality of prison, I use the pen to release my frustrations. I use the pen to manifest my imagination. And, most of all, I use the pen to Fight. I am fighting for my Life! Just by reading Kory McClary's Blog, you are giving my plight and my word's a voice. Thank you. Please, stay tuned...

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