Elevator - The Most Beautiful Boogie Man

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Writer/Poet

Submission

ElevatorThe Most Beautiful Boogie-Man

pg. 82

Voice

Global warming gifted us with a beautiful winter sun in the city. Beautiful enough for bare legs and jackets tied around waists or draped in the bend of an arm. It was the warmest December Sunday afternoon that my memory can recall. My only plan for the day was to leave the house and absorb as much sunlight as possible before returning home to prepare for the mundaneness of the upcoming work week. Beautiful days call for beautiful dresses or plain dresses draped on beautiful confident bodies. This particular afternoon it was the latter, I stood waiting on the elevator in a white t shirt dress, loose enough for comfort and leisure but tight enough for intrigue. My eyes were focused deep into the false reality of my social media screen when I heard the ding and the doors of the elevator opened. I was greeted by a subtle, powerful scent. It was a combination of Creed, sandalwood, sage and upper echelon marijuana, the fragrance of trouble. I have always been a fan of trouble. When my eyes finally shifted up from my screen I met his gaze. The next 15 seconds felt like eternity as we made our very first mistake. We looked into the soul of each other before we took inventory of bodies and faces. He stood in the corner leaning against the elevator wall; 6’5 with smooth skin the color of brownie batter he had a deep, dark beard that grazed the collar of his Kente, print dashiki. He wore slim fit black joggers and red and black Jordan retro 12’s. His sight was a blessing. Everything about him appeared matte or maybe his eyes, teeth and eye of Horus piece and chain were shining just that bright that everything else seemed lackluster in that moment. I took all of this in and hurriedly shifted my eyes back to my screen as a distraction. My main focus at this point is to make it to the bottom floor of the building without breaking out into a nervous giggle or sweat. I feel his eyes on me. He was studying me, making assessments and I was becoming nervous under his gaze. I look over at him hoping to break his stare. He did not look away; instead he smirked, chuckled lightly and ran his hand down the length of his beard. “Come here.” He summoned. I am now in shock. I don’t know if my shock is connected with his request or the fact that the request did not scare me. So, because I am habitually cool of course I say, “Excuse me?!” He chuckled lightly again and then his features became serious and he reminded me that his initial statement was not a request but a command. “You heard me.” To this day I don’t know how my feet started moving because I don’t remember walking into his personal space. He owned me; and now we are close enough to synchronize our breathing. He leaned slowly into me with his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. I have no idea of what he is about to do but I do not flinch. I feel his beard on my neck. He inhales my scent and closes his eyes. I own him. “Who are you?” I manage to whisper. He takes a step back to again look me in the eyes. “I am the most beautiful Boogie Man, and you?” “I am your favorite nightmare, nice to meet you.” I replied He then took my hand and gently kissed it. “A woman who can quote Mos Def, nice.” He said as his eyes danced with what I can tell are thoughts of what the woman he has yet to see is like. We are 3 minutes into the possibility of forever and the certainty of a really, really good time. We stood there taking each other in and contemplating what the next step should be. Ding. The doors open and we are greeted by the sunlight from the tall, windows that cover the entry way to the loft building. We had reached our destination. We were nowhere close to done with each other. The energy was thick and the chemistry was undeniable. He reached down and took my phone from my hand; I was loosely holding it throughout our exchange. It was taking him longer than the usual timeframe to enter a number. Once he finished, he hugged me as if we had known each other a few lifetimes and I had just returned from a long trip; he let me go, kissed me on the forehead, and gently

Copyright © 2017 - All rights reserved.

www.the-arts-today.com

Volume 5.10 September 2, 2019

placed my phone back into my hand. He disappeared in the direction of the garage and I walked out of the front door to my car parked on the street. As soon as I sat in my car I scrolled through my contacts to see if he added his name and number, but my contact list did not have any new entries. I am thoroughly confused. He was doing something with my phone but entering his number was obviously not it. My mind is blown. I sat in the car for 15 minutes checking my social media apps to see if he added himself as a “friend” or exactly what he was doing for the 3 minutes that he was operating my phone. Before I gave up on the search for his information and the prospect of “the most beautiful Boogie Man” I accessed my notes. The most recent note was added to my phone 20 minutes prior and it read: “See me, want me, give me, trust me, feed me, f*ck me, love me, touch me. This world is cold and ugly. What we are is low and lovely.” Unit 4422, 9:30 tonight. Wear a long black dress, the door will be open leave your shoes at the door. Do not wear any jewelry. 314-xxx-9311. You will get the rest of my number and anything else you want from me tonight. See you later my favorite nightmare. The most beautiful Boogie Man…

pg. 84

Copyright © 2017 - All rights reserved.

www.the-arts-today.com

Volume 5.10 September 2, 2019

pg. 86

| BIO

Voice is a writer, poet and storyteller hailing from St. Louis, Missouri. Her catalog includes pieces that empower those who find themselves cemented in the throes of heartbreak. Her work also reflects the undeniable beauty of blossoming love. She is most known for her erotic poems and short stories. Her mantra is, “Make love to the mind and the body will follow closely behind,” and her work epitomizes that sentiment. Voice has performed at Poetic Justice Open Mic; the regions’ largest recorded monthly open mic, as well as at the regionally acclaimed Hustle and Flow Open Mic series. She has also been a featured model and muse in several conceptual visual art pieces. She owns her Voice and seduces her audience with sultry, visual lyrics with her distinctive cadence. She will add to her accolades come July 27, 2019 as the curator of Noir: An Erotic Art Event in south St. Louis, making her debut as a host and showcasing the talents of other creatives in the area. Her vibe is truly unforgettable and one of a kind. When asked to describe herself, she said the following; “The pause and stillness before a storm. The last piece of coal in the fire pit that always hints at reigniting; smoldering and quiet.” A self- described “word witch”, she appreciates the magic and power in words and storytelling and is passionate to share that power with all who desire to see and feel the magic.

Copyright © 2017 - All rights reserved.

www.the-arts-today.com

Volume 5.10 September 2, 2019