by Shawn Ali
Sweating profusely in my sleep from sensual seduction, I toss and turn in my bunk as I travel telepathically with the exotic, beautiful-hair, cute-faced woman from my damn-this-feels-real dreams. That’s it girl, take my mind so far away from this prison, so that I temporarily forget about my harsh reality . . . please baby, take away my pain by enticing me like only you can..
When I shut my eyes and go to sleep, I no longer see this prison – no bars, no barriers, no blockades . . . I see her. I call her my Black Widow because she preys on my 21-year-prison-journey weakness and deprivation – sex – and then kills me while we’re both still enraptured in the body-tingling, mind-numbing throes of our simultaneous, stratospheric orgasms. More times than I can count and recall, she keeps killing me over and over again. I give her heaven and she gives me death. My mistake, as I look back at some of my earlier dreams with her, was me violating one of my long-standing principles by becoming emotionally attached to a woman who I only had a sexual interest in . . . at first. That’s why I feel pain and hurt when she kills me because her companionship is deeper than a wet-dream.
When I shut my eyes and go to sleep, I no longer see this prison – no bars, no barriers, no blockades . . . I see her. I call her my Black Widow because she preys on my 21-year-prison-journey weakness and deprivation – sex – and then kills me while we’re both still enraptured in the body-tingling, mind-numbing throes of our simultaneous, stratospheric orgasms. More times than I can count and recall, she keeps killing me over and over again. I give her heaven and she gives me death. My mistake, as I look back at some of my earlier dreams with her, was me violating one of my long-standing principles by becoming emotionally attached to a woman who I only had a sexual interest in . . . at first. That’s why I feel pain and hurt when she kills me because her companionship is deeper than a wet-dream.
The pain my Black Widow makes me feel by betraying my trust makes me forget the pain of my incarceration I have felt for too many years now. You know, it’s kind of refreshing to feel a new type of pain inside my heart that has the potential to transform butterfly-like into something great because I actually like her . . . A LOT. I’ve never met her formally and I damn sure don’t know her (only in my descriptive dreams), but I’m a sucker for suspense and the unknown. What if she really does exist and what if she is The One.
Therein lies the power of my mind and wild imagination; meaning, I believe anything is possible. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll accidentally bump into her in the real world when I least expect it. I’ll be in the produce section of a supermarket or something, and when I look up, I’ll see her. That’s if there’s even a woman who exists on planet earth who even remotely looks like her. I seriously doubt it, since in my eyes, she’s too beautiful to be human. But, maybe, there’s a 1 in 9,000,000,000 chance she does exist, dreams of me too, just happens to be reading this blog and is smiling right now as she deceptively devises the next unique way she can first tempt me then kill me. If so, I’ll be available for one of our dream-dates this Tuesday night – no, Thursday is better – at around, oh say, 8:40 pm when I go to sleep, don’t be late (wink).
In all likelihood, my Beautiful Black Widow doesn’t exist and is just a feminine figment of my fertile imagination (frown, sniff-sniff) . . . but, that’s cool, because while I’m living in a prison cell, fully intend to milk all the escapism and entertainment I can out of my detailed dreams with her. I’m getting better at making myself dream of her, by the way. My mind is like Netflix, that’s right, before I take a nap or call it a night at rack time, I concentrate really hard and force-feed my subconscious mind vivid images of her adorable Bratz-doll face and her wild, black hair. Damn her hair drives me crazy. What? Huh? Oh…um, sorry (smile), I got a little distracted by her photographic image that got stuck between my neurons mid-thought as I was trying to write my next sentence.
Our storyline is simple but spectacular: we have incredible sex and then she kills me in dramatic fashion; we experience pleasure and then pain (we both do because she feels terrible about killing me each time). The crazy thing about it is the intensity of our connection is so great, and so strong, that no matter how many times we go through the difficult, emotional cycle of sex-death, pleasure-pain, I can’t get enough of her, and I know she can’t get enough of me (wicked grin). I can’t stop thinking of her and she can’t stop thinking of me, even though we get mad at ourselves for thinking of each other. Crazy, I know. Let’s just say we have one of those love-hate relationships and deep down she knows she will never meet a man who can make her feel the way I do. Don’t worry baby, I don’t kiss and tell, so I won’t tell of our naughty secrets . . . just a few.
I can light her fire and make her feel some-type-of-way just by giving her a certain look. To touch her inwardly so profoundly in a way that makes her natural spider scent linger wet in the air – I have a strong sense of smell – without even touching her, oooh, that makes my dream. I know - I know. I’m playing with fire, but when she burns me, the pain she, Ms. Trouble with a capital “T,” makes me feel, also makes me feel soo alive. Thank you, baby. I know she’s dangerous company and I know what I’m up against, but I love it, damn, I LOVE it; the thrill of adventure and forbidden pleasure I feel when I’m with her. Plus, when she kills me, though it’s agonizing and feels real, my eyes flick open, and I’m still alive to dream of her another day. I dream of the day/night that when I wake up, she’ll still be there in my cell with me, but if she were my cellie then I would never want to go home. Just kidding (smile). Sorry, baby, but I have bigger life dreams I’m chasing too besides you.
The last dream I shared with you was just one of the many dreams I’ve had of her. My recollection of that particular dream was so clear and crisp that I decided to share it with you in Part 2 to Creative Reflections (Black Widow). To be fair, to you the reader, I did use my creative imagination and creative writing to fill in the fuzzy gaps of my dream where my subconscious memory failed me, so that you the reader, would have a seamless story to follow. What I share with you via these blogs is a special, personal part of my current confined existence because dreaming and writing are the two main bridges I cross daily back into society that makes me feel free and alive while I’m in prison.
Who is the mysterious, mesmerizing woman I keep dreaming about? And why do I keep dreaming of her? Why do I like her so much when I don’t want to? Is she real or fake? A blessing or a curse? Someone hidden behind the scenes of my past or someone I’ll meet in my future? Or is she my omen like the many Santiago in the book The Alchemist. Is she my Elizabeth Malet that the Earl of Rochester, an adventurous ‘Rake’ like myself, married in the Rake chapter in the book Art of Seduction. I don’t know who she is and why I dream of her, but I do know when I gaze deep into her eyes, she makes me feel free and alive in, to borrow the phrase from one of Rihanna’s lyrics, this “hopeless place.”
If you’re wondering what happened when I drove off with my Black Widow in the Spyder BMWi8, one of my dream cars because it’s the baddest, fastest hybrids on the streets (screw the big oil companies and their crooked politician buddies), I’ll tell you in this continuation to Creative Reflections: Black Widow Returns. But first, let me pour you a steaming-hot cup of coffee with a few chocolate chip cookies on the side. Please . . . I insist. There’s nothing like a hot cup of coffee to compliment this cold weather. A cautious, burning-lip sip, then the hot liquid touching your tongue and trickling down the center of your body creates an inner heat that is the perfect contrast for the outer chill on your skin. So, now that we have our cookies and coffee (smile), turn off the lights and enjoy the featured presentation, shhhh. Parental discretion is advised.
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The sun is quickly setting with fast-forward speed. Darkness conquers the light, the moon triumphs over the sun in the dark, starry sky as we whizz down the deserted, empty highway with the highbeams dispelling the pitch-black darkness in front of us, the top and windows are up, the radio is off, and it’s just my Black Widow and me all alone in the cramped interior of her Spydermobile. I don’t know where she’s taking me, and I don’t care so long as I’m with her and she’s temporarily taking me away from prison. I relish every moment I’m with her because I know when I wake up and my mind re-orientates to the loud clanking metal and chorus of yelling voices that are the disturbing, all-too-familiar sounds that comprise the machine of incarceration, I’ll be back in prison and back to the same-old bullshit. Doing time.
By comparison, it’s so quiet and peaceful in this silent-engine car, I can hear her every breath and heartbeat as if they are being broadcasted on a speaker system. She’s deaf to the audible details of my dream so only I can hear the inner-workings of her body with crystal clarity. I think I’ll have some fun with her to entertain us on our little road-trip. “It’s night-time now baby, you can take off those silly sunglasses.”
“I like my sunglasses, thank-you-very-much,” she turns to face me with her beautiful smile, but I can’t see her. I can but not the way I want to because I don’t want to look at her, I want to look through her.
“You know you can’t hide from my eyes. If I’m determined to see you, I will, and I’m not going to allow any obstacles to get in my way, especially some plastic sunglasses.” I squeeze her hand tighter and bring her hand to my stubbled-face, then I give her that light-her-fire look before kissing the back of her hand, “mmTSK!” I hear her heart skip a beat, breathing increases slightly, but her flower remains closed. No fire. “You don’t do drugs, do you?”
“No, hell no!”
“Good, because I hate drugs, they destroyed my Dad’s life, and to an extent, mine too.”
“I’m sorry to hear that - mmTSK!” She kisses the back of my hand. “The only drug I’m addicted to is you Shawn Ali. I can’t get enough of you, baby,” she licks her tongue over her lips.
“And I can’t get enough of you, mm” I bite on my lip “stop hiding from my eyes then.”
“I’m not hiding from your eyes, I just ---” before she can invent an excuse, I reach for her sunglasses. “No, don’t” she tries to duck and dodge me, making the Spyder-car swerve.
“Give me those damn sunglasses” but when I snatch them off, only the tinted front-piece snaps off. Now I can look through her, but I’m gazing into her captivating eyes through clear, prescription lenses. She wears glasses.
She’s frowning. “I didn’t want you to know.” Once we lock yes, she can’t look away. “I look so stupid.” Our optical connection intensifies with each tantalizing second that passes. I give her that same look and kiss the back of her hand again. Her heart beats rapidly, breathing accelerates, and the wet petals of her flower begin to bloom open from the warmth of my seductive stare. I can hear her flame flickering. That’s it, her fire is lit.
“If you only knew how beautiful you look to me right now, you would never say something so stuipid.” One of her loose black hair tendrils has fallen in front of her face and she’s biting her sexy lips nervously. No make-up. Natural beauty. The black-framed glasses, if anything, add a naughty sophistication to her sex appeal. “That hair hanging in front of your face, please do something with it. Here, I’ll do it” I tuck her loose hair lock behind her ear.
“Why?” she’s smiling now and brushing her hair with her hand.
“Because it makes me want you really bad, and I’m not trying to rush our time together. I’m trying to prolong our time together because we both know how this dream is going to end.”
“Do you really like me with glasses?”
“Girl, you could put a paper bag over your head and I would like you, mmtsk,” I kiss my fingers and touch them to her lips.
She blush-smiles really big. “Aww, than you, baby.”
I place my hand on her naked inner thigh and a pinkish hue briefly brightens the dark sky as I caress her gently with my fingertips.
“Sss-ooh” she gasps “not too much. Why do you like me so much anyway? I mean, there are other female spiders who won’t kill you who are curvier and sexier than me.”
“You obviously don’t know what I like and look for in a woman. Plus, I don’t like easy women; I like smart-mouth bitches like you. Because you are designed by nature to kill me, I love the challenge of being the one to change your disposition.”
“That’s pretty deep, but it still doesn’t tell me what you look for in a woman” she asks indirectly as she innocently tilts her head to the side. So damn cute.
“I would tell you, but your head is already big enough from all the B.S. the other spiders tell you, so I don’t want to blow it up anymore.” We laugh at this half-true joke together.
“Ugh, I know you didn’t, my head is not big.” She playfully punches me in my arm. “C’mon, tell me.”
“Well, besides your obvious physical features I’m attracted to, I will tell you that I like your confidence, your femininity, and your potential. You have so much potential and you don’t even know it. But don’t worry baby, if we ever meet in this lifetime, I’ll bring out the best in you and there’s so much I want to teach you. And . . . ”
“And what?” she lays out her pouty-face trap.
“Okay, you win, I’ll tell you. I’d rather be with a sexy-cute woman like you than with a sexy-fine woman. There, that’s all I’m telling you for now, bighead,” I pop her lightly on the back of her head, then caress the back of her neck where her hair starts.
“Stop saying that” she says with a laugh “my head is not big, oooh-damn, that feels good, but I won’t let you seduce me off the subject.”
“What are you talking about?” I play dumb, digging my fingers into her hair and massaging her scalp. She briefly closes her eyes and leans her head back as a purring cat would.
“You say you’d rather be with me, but I know you dream of other female spiders when you’re not dreaming of me. Then when I try to come see you, you block me out so I can’t interfere with your dreams with them.” She opens her eyes and now she’s the one looking through me.
“Yes, I’ve done what you’re saying, but it’s only because sometimes I want you” I point my finger at her heart “to feel the same hurt I feel when you kill me. I know when you want to see me. I can hear the sadness in your voice as you call out to me and try to come into my dreams. I wanted to break weak when I went awhile without dreaming of you, but I said no, she, meaning you, has to hurt too. So, how does it feel to hurt?”
“It sucks. I hate it. I missed you more than I ever thought I would.”
I touch my hand to the side of her soft face, run my fingertips over her lips “I missed you, too. When I didn’t dream of you, not a day went by that I didn’t think of you.”
“But it’s so unfair, you only dream of me, like now, when you want to see me, and if I weren’t here, you would be dreaming of some other bitch. Damn Shawn Ali, you can’t be mad at me forever.”
“When I dream of other female spiders, it’s strictly entertainment, but when I dream of you baby, I give you my body and my heart. About being mad at you. You may not believe this, but I’ve never been mad at you for killing me. I was extremely hurt with many tearful moments, but never mad,” as I say this, the emotion that’s linked to my statement from reflecting back on the many deaths she’s executed against me makes a tear fall from my eye. I recall to mind some of the hurtful words she uttered to me that felt like a dagger in my heart. She mimics me and a tear streaks down her face. Our heartbeats become synchronized, beating together as one loud heartbeat. I cradle her doll-face in both hands and stretch over the console. I’m so close to her that our noses are touching. “Baby, the only thing I’m mad about is looking into your eyes.”
“Why would that make you mad?” she asks nervously. I can hear her heart racing past mine, but my heartbeat picks up speed too.
“Because I wanted to be free and single when I’m released, but now…mmmtsk!” I kiss her hard on the lips “I just want to be with you, mmmtsk.” I kiss her again. “And I know this is just a dream, but I believe dreams can come true, so now my heart is on a quest to meet you. And I won’t stop until I find you.” As we gaze deeply into each other’s eyes, an electric, romantic silence elapses between us. I want her so bad. So bad it hurts.
Her teethy smile is bigger than I’ve ever seen it before. She touches her hand to my square, stubbled chin and now she initiates the kissing “mmtskmmtsk-mmmm” she gives me her wet tongue, passionately and deeply “mmmmtskmmmm-mmmmTSK – I remove her glasses, kiss her eyes, then push my tongue back in her mouth “…mmtsk-and I’m sorry-mmtsk-TSK-mmmm.” I tongue her deep “TSKK!” then pull-bite her bottom lip” for when I don’t let you see me.”
“Shawn Ali baby, will you hold me in your arms?”
“Of course, baby, I want nothing more than to hold you and get to know you.”
My Black Widow climbs coquettishly over the computerized console and melts into my open arms, laying her head on my muscular, hairy chest as I wrap my arms protectively around her. When we embrace, the sky responds by glowing with a romantic red hue fading into black. The bright star constellations begin to move autonomously, spelling out our names together and twinkling like Christmas lights. The Spyder car is self-driving itself and even DJ’s picking the perfect song four our tender moment. “Let’s Chill” by Guy starts to play softly.
“Promise me you will never give up until you find me?”
“I promise you” I bury my nose into her hair and take a deep breath as I inhale her alluring hair scent. “But maybe you’ll find me first.” I look down at her face and she’s grinning.
“Maybe.”
“What if you don’t even exist?”
“Don’t say that” she says angrily. “I have to exist” she lifts her head off my chest and narrows her eyes “why would you be dreaming of me if I didn’t? Don’t you see, our minds and souls are somehow connected.”
“Then I’ll find you” I pull her back into my warm embrace and she returns her gorgeous-hair head on my chest.
“I want you to know how much this time with you means to me, to be sharing this pure, special moment with you before take you to my web, and . . . well, you know what happens once my body-heat passes the pleasure point of no return” she says while stroking my arm with her pretty nails.
“Any time I spend with you doing whatever is time well spend – MWAH!” I give her a big kiss on the top of her beautiful hair. “I have faith in you, girl.”
“Why? You know there’s a 99.9% chance I’m going to kill you after we have sex.”
“Then there’s still a .01% chance during one of my dreams that you won’t. That you’ll defeat your nature. The fact that you are spending quality conversation time with me like this is progress. Major progress because before it was all about the sex and then death for me.”
“You’re right, maybe there is hope. But you know I’m violating the Black Widow Spider code bigtime by spending time talking to you and getting to know you, and… getting emotional. If the other female spiders find out what I’m doing with you, they have legal grounds according to the laws of nature to enter into my private web and kill me.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I say sternly and squeeze her tighter.
“But” she laughs “you can’t even stop me from killing you, much less a gang of spiders.
“You’re right about the first part, but I have some secret tricks and powers I haven’t shown you, so don’t tell me what I can’t do.”
“I knew you were holding back on me.”
“I have to, or I would be killed instantly every time I dream.”
“You have a point, but I’m getting used to you now, so I hope you give me more.”
“I plan on it, but here’s what I want to know, why are you going against your nature by being with me in personal ways that are outside of the Black Widow code?”
“Because I like you A LOT too and I guess I believe it’s possible one day for us to be together without me killing you. You have this controlling effect on me that I really like, but then, I don’t like it. Damn, I’m so confused,” she bangs her balled fist against the dashboard.
“Calm down baby, mmmtsk” I kiss her sore hand and rock her body in my arms. “What makes you believe it’s possible for us to be together post-sex. Where did your sudden belief come from?”
“Well, I have this spider friend named Mango, do you know her?”
“Mango . . . Mango, hmm, I don’t think so.”
“She’s an orange and black fruit spider that loves Mangos, that’s why we call her that, and her bubble butt looks like two mangos,” she giggles.
“Oh, that Mango, yeah, I’ve dreamed of her a couple of times. Damn, she has one of the best spider butts around and a mean, twist-walk to go with it.”
My Black Widow moves so swiftly with her super spider-speed, I don’t see it until I feel her slap across my face “You’re mine” her eyes burn with rage and she clenches her teeth. This arouses me and she can feel my Beast spasm against her.
“You sound like you’re just a little jealous of me, are you?”
“No – yes Yes I am, okay, I don’t want to be, but I am.” Her face softens. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I love it when you’re jealous. Say it again.” I grab her hard by her hair and crane her neck back, reciprocating the pain she gave me with her slap.
“You’re mine,” she says with a wicked smile “why do you love my jealousy?” she asks.
I release her hair, then I softly caress the front part of her neck with my fingers. “Because, other than being your stud sex slave, it shows you really care about me. So look, what does your friend Mango have to do with any of this?”
“Mango has a distant cousin who is a Black Widow too, and Mango, who is a therapist, taught her cousin to go against her Black Widow nature. So, now she’s teaching me and lacing me up on how I can be with you without killing you. Isn’t this great?”
“Great, baby, it’s a miracle, no wonder you’ve been making progress, why are you just now telling me?” From her neck down her sexy body, I patiently caress and touch her sensitive erogenous zones.
“Oooh, mm-yess, I wanted to surprise you during one of our dreams, but the reason I haven’t told you until now is because it’s such a difficult process, oooh-shit, ssss, I didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing because what if Mango’s treatment doesn’t work with me?, sss-oooh.” Her thick intoxicating scent fills the airtight interior as I consistently dip my fingers into her wet-nectar flower.
“It will, I believe in you, baby.”
“Oooh-damn-baby, I know you do, mmm, or else you wouldn’t keep dreaming of me and letting me kill you if . . . ” she takes a deep moan-breath “you didn’t believe I could change.”
“When you do change, and I dream of you, will you take me away from my prison life and show me all of the amazing, adventurous places in the world, and can we do fun stuff together?” She opens her legs wider and smiles seductively “Besides sex. I’ve been in prison my entire adult life, so there’s so much I haven’t done that my heart aches to do.” I pause the pleasure, and I don’t want to waste her liquid love so I put my fingers into my hungry mouth and suck them clean. “Mmtsk-mmtsk, damn, you taste like freedom and smell like heaven.”
She pivots her worked-up, on fire body and faces me with the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever looked through. “Yes-yes---mmtsk!” she kisses my lips “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go baby, and we can do anything you want to do,” she runs her manicured-nailed fingers through my curly black chest hairs and over my rock-hard muscles “mm, damn your chest drives me so crazy, “ her eyes light-up and widen with desire.
“That’s why we’re violating principles, codes, and the laws of nature we both live by, because we are truly, madly, deeply, crazy about each other.” I gently twist her fiery, erect nipple between my fingers.
“Dance for me baby, please…dance for me.” I recognize the sultry and slutty drastic change in her voice and I know we’re beyond the pleasure point of no return.
My Black Widow brushes her sexy butt against my pain then crawls back spider-like into the drivers seat to give me room to dance for her. Before turning around to face me, she teases me with a brief dance of her own that visibly motivates me.
“I like it when you tease and seduce me” I tell her with sexual-rage in my eyes. She sees the impact of her motivation, so she dances for me again. With her back to the driver’s side door, she faces me with lust flames blazing in her eyes. Fluidly and feverishly, her hand is moving.
I dance one time.
“Oooh, you got me” her entire body shakes and shivers with pleasure.
“Do it again---ooh boy, you are something else. Again. Again.” I dance for her several times as the movement and hunger in her eyes empowers my performance. “You’re mine,” when she says this, I dance faster and fiercer for her, dance until she is overwhelmed by an inner orgasmic implosion that has her body convulsing and cursing.
“Are you okay over there?” I ask her.
“No, I’m not okay” her breathing is rugged and hard, skin glowing “I’m incredible. Baby, sing me one of your songs before…” she doesn’t say it, but we both know the end is near for me and this dream.
Gotta Be by Jagged Edge is playing on the car stereo system. That’s my song too, but I touch the off button and cut it short.
“Come here baby and sit on my lap. I want you to straddle me while I sing to you, so our physical connection will be one and I can gaze into your eyes one more time.” Stealthy and sexy, she sits comfortably and perfectly on top of me. My hands caress her soft hips and butt while her hands explore my buff chest. Our flames become one fire as our bodies burn together. “I wrote this song for you…when our eyes lock” I start to sing and serenade her “time stops…everything around me keeps moving, but nothing else matters to me . . . except you … except yooouuuu” I repeat the chorus while my greedy hands touch her intimately and her rhythmic body moves with me in wet harmony. “When I look into your big-brown-beautiful eyes, I see the best of me,” I sing-rap “now look back into my eyes and see your destiny clearly . . . the moment we met, was serendipity . . . a romantic epiphany . . . no words spoken, but the windows of our souls, knew instantly,” then I sing with louder melodies “baby, your long, black hair is glory . . . now, translate what’s in your eyes to your mouth, and tell me your story” I switch back to a rap tone “you’re so exotic looking, you’ll never bore me … baby, I could stare at you all-damn-day, you’re more entertaining than Maury, oooo, slow down girl.” I stop my song because the intensity of our union soars to pleasure heights that distort my concentration. Drunken love. Our bodies conform and collide chaotically. Hands brace against foggy windows. The car’s light-weight chassis begins to rock. Freak Me Baby by Silk starts playing. Faces contorted by immeasurable desire. Her hair flings and flies everywhere.
We’re so caught up in the powerful, passionate moment that we don’t see it. Traveling at 100 mph, the car speeds over a physical cliff and free-falls for what feels like an indefinite period. At the same time, our bodies reach a different cliff, the emphatic edge of ecstasy, and we dive over into the ocean of orgasm together.
“Please dream of me tomorrow, mmtsk” she kisses me on my lips then stabs me in my heart with her stinger.
She stabs and stings me repeatedly. I try to wake up to avoid the pain, but I can’t move, my muscular system is paralyzed. I’m in the car by myself. Still falling. The jagged rocks below approach faster. Death and destruction are inevitable. I feel so alone and abandoned. So used. So empty. I can feel the full impact and explosion of the crash. I can feel my bones breaking and my skin burning as I die another dream death, but nothing hurts more than my broken heart as I open my tearful eyes.
Therein lies the power of my mind and wild imagination; meaning, I believe anything is possible. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll accidentally bump into her in the real world when I least expect it. I’ll be in the produce section of a supermarket or something, and when I look up, I’ll see her. That’s if there’s even a woman who exists on planet earth who even remotely looks like her. I seriously doubt it, since in my eyes, she’s too beautiful to be human. But, maybe, there’s a 1 in 9,000,000,000 chance she does exist, dreams of me too, just happens to be reading this blog and is smiling right now as she deceptively devises the next unique way she can first tempt me then kill me. If so, I’ll be available for one of our dream-dates this Tuesday night – no, Thursday is better – at around, oh say, 8:40 pm when I go to sleep, don’t be late (wink).
In all likelihood, my Beautiful Black Widow doesn’t exist and is just a feminine figment of my fertile imagination (frown, sniff-sniff) . . . but, that’s cool, because while I’m living in a prison cell, fully intend to milk all the escapism and entertainment I can out of my detailed dreams with her. I’m getting better at making myself dream of her, by the way. My mind is like Netflix, that’s right, before I take a nap or call it a night at rack time, I concentrate really hard and force-feed my subconscious mind vivid images of her adorable Bratz-doll face and her wild, black hair. Damn her hair drives me crazy. What? Huh? Oh…um, sorry (smile), I got a little distracted by her photographic image that got stuck between my neurons mid-thought as I was trying to write my next sentence.
Our storyline is simple but spectacular: we have incredible sex and then she kills me in dramatic fashion; we experience pleasure and then pain (we both do because she feels terrible about killing me each time). The crazy thing about it is the intensity of our connection is so great, and so strong, that no matter how many times we go through the difficult, emotional cycle of sex-death, pleasure-pain, I can’t get enough of her, and I know she can’t get enough of me (wicked grin). I can’t stop thinking of her and she can’t stop thinking of me, even though we get mad at ourselves for thinking of each other. Crazy, I know. Let’s just say we have one of those love-hate relationships and deep down she knows she will never meet a man who can make her feel the way I do. Don’t worry baby, I don’t kiss and tell, so I won’t tell of our naughty secrets . . . just a few.
I can light her fire and make her feel some-type-of-way just by giving her a certain look. To touch her inwardly so profoundly in a way that makes her natural spider scent linger wet in the air – I have a strong sense of smell – without even touching her, oooh, that makes my dream. I know - I know. I’m playing with fire, but when she burns me, the pain she, Ms. Trouble with a capital “T,” makes me feel, also makes me feel soo alive. Thank you, baby. I know she’s dangerous company and I know what I’m up against, but I love it, damn, I LOVE it; the thrill of adventure and forbidden pleasure I feel when I’m with her. Plus, when she kills me, though it’s agonizing and feels real, my eyes flick open, and I’m still alive to dream of her another day. I dream of the day/night that when I wake up, she’ll still be there in my cell with me, but if she were my cellie then I would never want to go home. Just kidding (smile). Sorry, baby, but I have bigger life dreams I’m chasing too besides you.
The last dream I shared with you was just one of the many dreams I’ve had of her. My recollection of that particular dream was so clear and crisp that I decided to share it with you in Part 2 to Creative Reflections (Black Widow). To be fair, to you the reader, I did use my creative imagination and creative writing to fill in the fuzzy gaps of my dream where my subconscious memory failed me, so that you the reader, would have a seamless story to follow. What I share with you via these blogs is a special, personal part of my current confined existence because dreaming and writing are the two main bridges I cross daily back into society that makes me feel free and alive while I’m in prison.
Who is the mysterious, mesmerizing woman I keep dreaming about? And why do I keep dreaming of her? Why do I like her so much when I don’t want to? Is she real or fake? A blessing or a curse? Someone hidden behind the scenes of my past or someone I’ll meet in my future? Or is she my omen like the many Santiago in the book The Alchemist. Is she my Elizabeth Malet that the Earl of Rochester, an adventurous ‘Rake’ like myself, married in the Rake chapter in the book Art of Seduction. I don’t know who she is and why I dream of her, but I do know when I gaze deep into her eyes, she makes me feel free and alive in, to borrow the phrase from one of Rihanna’s lyrics, this “hopeless place.”
If you’re wondering what happened when I drove off with my Black Widow in the Spyder BMWi8, one of my dream cars because it’s the baddest, fastest hybrids on the streets (screw the big oil companies and their crooked politician buddies), I’ll tell you in this continuation to Creative Reflections: Black Widow Returns. But first, let me pour you a steaming-hot cup of coffee with a few chocolate chip cookies on the side. Please . . . I insist. There’s nothing like a hot cup of coffee to compliment this cold weather. A cautious, burning-lip sip, then the hot liquid touching your tongue and trickling down the center of your body creates an inner heat that is the perfect contrast for the outer chill on your skin. So, now that we have our cookies and coffee (smile), turn off the lights and enjoy the featured presentation, shhhh. Parental discretion is advised.
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The sun is quickly setting with fast-forward speed. Darkness conquers the light, the moon triumphs over the sun in the dark, starry sky as we whizz down the deserted, empty highway with the highbeams dispelling the pitch-black darkness in front of us, the top and windows are up, the radio is off, and it’s just my Black Widow and me all alone in the cramped interior of her Spydermobile. I don’t know where she’s taking me, and I don’t care so long as I’m with her and she’s temporarily taking me away from prison. I relish every moment I’m with her because I know when I wake up and my mind re-orientates to the loud clanking metal and chorus of yelling voices that are the disturbing, all-too-familiar sounds that comprise the machine of incarceration, I’ll be back in prison and back to the same-old bullshit. Doing time.
By comparison, it’s so quiet and peaceful in this silent-engine car, I can hear her every breath and heartbeat as if they are being broadcasted on a speaker system. She’s deaf to the audible details of my dream so only I can hear the inner-workings of her body with crystal clarity. I think I’ll have some fun with her to entertain us on our little road-trip. “It’s night-time now baby, you can take off those silly sunglasses.”
“I like my sunglasses, thank-you-very-much,” she turns to face me with her beautiful smile, but I can’t see her. I can but not the way I want to because I don’t want to look at her, I want to look through her.
“You know you can’t hide from my eyes. If I’m determined to see you, I will, and I’m not going to allow any obstacles to get in my way, especially some plastic sunglasses.” I squeeze her hand tighter and bring her hand to my stubbled-face, then I give her that light-her-fire look before kissing the back of her hand, “mmTSK!” I hear her heart skip a beat, breathing increases slightly, but her flower remains closed. No fire. “You don’t do drugs, do you?”
“No, hell no!”
“Good, because I hate drugs, they destroyed my Dad’s life, and to an extent, mine too.”
“I’m sorry to hear that - mmTSK!” She kisses the back of my hand. “The only drug I’m addicted to is you Shawn Ali. I can’t get enough of you, baby,” she licks her tongue over her lips.
“And I can’t get enough of you, mm” I bite on my lip “stop hiding from my eyes then.”
“I’m not hiding from your eyes, I just ---” before she can invent an excuse, I reach for her sunglasses. “No, don’t” she tries to duck and dodge me, making the Spyder-car swerve.
“Give me those damn sunglasses” but when I snatch them off, only the tinted front-piece snaps off. Now I can look through her, but I’m gazing into her captivating eyes through clear, prescription lenses. She wears glasses.
She’s frowning. “I didn’t want you to know.” Once we lock yes, she can’t look away. “I look so stupid.” Our optical connection intensifies with each tantalizing second that passes. I give her that same look and kiss the back of her hand again. Her heart beats rapidly, breathing accelerates, and the wet petals of her flower begin to bloom open from the warmth of my seductive stare. I can hear her flame flickering. That’s it, her fire is lit.
“If you only knew how beautiful you look to me right now, you would never say something so stuipid.” One of her loose black hair tendrils has fallen in front of her face and she’s biting her sexy lips nervously. No make-up. Natural beauty. The black-framed glasses, if anything, add a naughty sophistication to her sex appeal. “That hair hanging in front of your face, please do something with it. Here, I’ll do it” I tuck her loose hair lock behind her ear.
“Why?” she’s smiling now and brushing her hair with her hand.
“Because it makes me want you really bad, and I’m not trying to rush our time together. I’m trying to prolong our time together because we both know how this dream is going to end.”
“Do you really like me with glasses?”
“Girl, you could put a paper bag over your head and I would like you, mmtsk,” I kiss my fingers and touch them to her lips.
She blush-smiles really big. “Aww, than you, baby.”
I place my hand on her naked inner thigh and a pinkish hue briefly brightens the dark sky as I caress her gently with my fingertips.
“Sss-ooh” she gasps “not too much. Why do you like me so much anyway? I mean, there are other female spiders who won’t kill you who are curvier and sexier than me.”
“You obviously don’t know what I like and look for in a woman. Plus, I don’t like easy women; I like smart-mouth bitches like you. Because you are designed by nature to kill me, I love the challenge of being the one to change your disposition.”
“That’s pretty deep, but it still doesn’t tell me what you look for in a woman” she asks indirectly as she innocently tilts her head to the side. So damn cute.
“I would tell you, but your head is already big enough from all the B.S. the other spiders tell you, so I don’t want to blow it up anymore.” We laugh at this half-true joke together.
“Ugh, I know you didn’t, my head is not big.” She playfully punches me in my arm. “C’mon, tell me.”
“Well, besides your obvious physical features I’m attracted to, I will tell you that I like your confidence, your femininity, and your potential. You have so much potential and you don’t even know it. But don’t worry baby, if we ever meet in this lifetime, I’ll bring out the best in you and there’s so much I want to teach you. And . . . ”
“And what?” she lays out her pouty-face trap.
“Okay, you win, I’ll tell you. I’d rather be with a sexy-cute woman like you than with a sexy-fine woman. There, that’s all I’m telling you for now, bighead,” I pop her lightly on the back of her head, then caress the back of her neck where her hair starts.
“Stop saying that” she says with a laugh “my head is not big, oooh-damn, that feels good, but I won’t let you seduce me off the subject.”
“What are you talking about?” I play dumb, digging my fingers into her hair and massaging her scalp. She briefly closes her eyes and leans her head back as a purring cat would.
“You say you’d rather be with me, but I know you dream of other female spiders when you’re not dreaming of me. Then when I try to come see you, you block me out so I can’t interfere with your dreams with them.” She opens her eyes and now she’s the one looking through me.
“Yes, I’ve done what you’re saying, but it’s only because sometimes I want you” I point my finger at her heart “to feel the same hurt I feel when you kill me. I know when you want to see me. I can hear the sadness in your voice as you call out to me and try to come into my dreams. I wanted to break weak when I went awhile without dreaming of you, but I said no, she, meaning you, has to hurt too. So, how does it feel to hurt?”
“It sucks. I hate it. I missed you more than I ever thought I would.”
I touch my hand to the side of her soft face, run my fingertips over her lips “I missed you, too. When I didn’t dream of you, not a day went by that I didn’t think of you.”
“But it’s so unfair, you only dream of me, like now, when you want to see me, and if I weren’t here, you would be dreaming of some other bitch. Damn Shawn Ali, you can’t be mad at me forever.”
“When I dream of other female spiders, it’s strictly entertainment, but when I dream of you baby, I give you my body and my heart. About being mad at you. You may not believe this, but I’ve never been mad at you for killing me. I was extremely hurt with many tearful moments, but never mad,” as I say this, the emotion that’s linked to my statement from reflecting back on the many deaths she’s executed against me makes a tear fall from my eye. I recall to mind some of the hurtful words she uttered to me that felt like a dagger in my heart. She mimics me and a tear streaks down her face. Our heartbeats become synchronized, beating together as one loud heartbeat. I cradle her doll-face in both hands and stretch over the console. I’m so close to her that our noses are touching. “Baby, the only thing I’m mad about is looking into your eyes.”
“Why would that make you mad?” she asks nervously. I can hear her heart racing past mine, but my heartbeat picks up speed too.
“Because I wanted to be free and single when I’m released, but now…mmmtsk!” I kiss her hard on the lips “I just want to be with you, mmmtsk.” I kiss her again. “And I know this is just a dream, but I believe dreams can come true, so now my heart is on a quest to meet you. And I won’t stop until I find you.” As we gaze deeply into each other’s eyes, an electric, romantic silence elapses between us. I want her so bad. So bad it hurts.
Her teethy smile is bigger than I’ve ever seen it before. She touches her hand to my square, stubbled chin and now she initiates the kissing “mmtskmmtsk-mmmm” she gives me her wet tongue, passionately and deeply “mmmmtskmmmm-mmmmTSK – I remove her glasses, kiss her eyes, then push my tongue back in her mouth “…mmtsk-and I’m sorry-mmtsk-TSK-mmmm.” I tongue her deep “TSKK!” then pull-bite her bottom lip” for when I don’t let you see me.”
“Shawn Ali baby, will you hold me in your arms?”
“Of course, baby, I want nothing more than to hold you and get to know you.”
My Black Widow climbs coquettishly over the computerized console and melts into my open arms, laying her head on my muscular, hairy chest as I wrap my arms protectively around her. When we embrace, the sky responds by glowing with a romantic red hue fading into black. The bright star constellations begin to move autonomously, spelling out our names together and twinkling like Christmas lights. The Spyder car is self-driving itself and even DJ’s picking the perfect song four our tender moment. “Let’s Chill” by Guy starts to play softly.
“Promise me you will never give up until you find me?”
“I promise you” I bury my nose into her hair and take a deep breath as I inhale her alluring hair scent. “But maybe you’ll find me first.” I look down at her face and she’s grinning.
“Maybe.”
“What if you don’t even exist?”
“Don’t say that” she says angrily. “I have to exist” she lifts her head off my chest and narrows her eyes “why would you be dreaming of me if I didn’t? Don’t you see, our minds and souls are somehow connected.”
“Then I’ll find you” I pull her back into my warm embrace and she returns her gorgeous-hair head on my chest.
“I want you to know how much this time with you means to me, to be sharing this pure, special moment with you before take you to my web, and . . . well, you know what happens once my body-heat passes the pleasure point of no return” she says while stroking my arm with her pretty nails.
“Any time I spend with you doing whatever is time well spend – MWAH!” I give her a big kiss on the top of her beautiful hair. “I have faith in you, girl.”
“Why? You know there’s a 99.9% chance I’m going to kill you after we have sex.”
“Then there’s still a .01% chance during one of my dreams that you won’t. That you’ll defeat your nature. The fact that you are spending quality conversation time with me like this is progress. Major progress because before it was all about the sex and then death for me.”
“You’re right, maybe there is hope. But you know I’m violating the Black Widow Spider code bigtime by spending time talking to you and getting to know you, and… getting emotional. If the other female spiders find out what I’m doing with you, they have legal grounds according to the laws of nature to enter into my private web and kill me.”
“I won’t let that happen,” I say sternly and squeeze her tighter.
“But” she laughs “you can’t even stop me from killing you, much less a gang of spiders.
“You’re right about the first part, but I have some secret tricks and powers I haven’t shown you, so don’t tell me what I can’t do.”
“I knew you were holding back on me.”
“I have to, or I would be killed instantly every time I dream.”
“You have a point, but I’m getting used to you now, so I hope you give me more.”
“I plan on it, but here’s what I want to know, why are you going against your nature by being with me in personal ways that are outside of the Black Widow code?”
“Because I like you A LOT too and I guess I believe it’s possible one day for us to be together without me killing you. You have this controlling effect on me that I really like, but then, I don’t like it. Damn, I’m so confused,” she bangs her balled fist against the dashboard.
“Calm down baby, mmmtsk” I kiss her sore hand and rock her body in my arms. “What makes you believe it’s possible for us to be together post-sex. Where did your sudden belief come from?”
“Well, I have this spider friend named Mango, do you know her?”
“Mango . . . Mango, hmm, I don’t think so.”
“She’s an orange and black fruit spider that loves Mangos, that’s why we call her that, and her bubble butt looks like two mangos,” she giggles.
“Oh, that Mango, yeah, I’ve dreamed of her a couple of times. Damn, she has one of the best spider butts around and a mean, twist-walk to go with it.”
My Black Widow moves so swiftly with her super spider-speed, I don’t see it until I feel her slap across my face “You’re mine” her eyes burn with rage and she clenches her teeth. This arouses me and she can feel my Beast spasm against her.
“You sound like you’re just a little jealous of me, are you?”
“No – yes Yes I am, okay, I don’t want to be, but I am.” Her face softens. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I love it when you’re jealous. Say it again.” I grab her hard by her hair and crane her neck back, reciprocating the pain she gave me with her slap.
“You’re mine,” she says with a wicked smile “why do you love my jealousy?” she asks.
I release her hair, then I softly caress the front part of her neck with my fingers. “Because, other than being your stud sex slave, it shows you really care about me. So look, what does your friend Mango have to do with any of this?”
“Mango has a distant cousin who is a Black Widow too, and Mango, who is a therapist, taught her cousin to go against her Black Widow nature. So, now she’s teaching me and lacing me up on how I can be with you without killing you. Isn’t this great?”
“Great, baby, it’s a miracle, no wonder you’ve been making progress, why are you just now telling me?” From her neck down her sexy body, I patiently caress and touch her sensitive erogenous zones.
“Oooh, mm-yess, I wanted to surprise you during one of our dreams, but the reason I haven’t told you until now is because it’s such a difficult process, oooh-shit, ssss, I didn’t want to get your hopes up for nothing because what if Mango’s treatment doesn’t work with me?, sss-oooh.” Her thick intoxicating scent fills the airtight interior as I consistently dip my fingers into her wet-nectar flower.
“It will, I believe in you, baby.”
“Oooh-damn-baby, I know you do, mmm, or else you wouldn’t keep dreaming of me and letting me kill you if . . . ” she takes a deep moan-breath “you didn’t believe I could change.”
“When you do change, and I dream of you, will you take me away from my prison life and show me all of the amazing, adventurous places in the world, and can we do fun stuff together?” She opens her legs wider and smiles seductively “Besides sex. I’ve been in prison my entire adult life, so there’s so much I haven’t done that my heart aches to do.” I pause the pleasure, and I don’t want to waste her liquid love so I put my fingers into my hungry mouth and suck them clean. “Mmtsk-mmtsk, damn, you taste like freedom and smell like heaven.”
She pivots her worked-up, on fire body and faces me with the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever looked through. “Yes-yes---mmtsk!” she kisses my lips “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go baby, and we can do anything you want to do,” she runs her manicured-nailed fingers through my curly black chest hairs and over my rock-hard muscles “mm, damn your chest drives me so crazy, “ her eyes light-up and widen with desire.
“That’s why we’re violating principles, codes, and the laws of nature we both live by, because we are truly, madly, deeply, crazy about each other.” I gently twist her fiery, erect nipple between my fingers.
“Dance for me baby, please…dance for me.” I recognize the sultry and slutty drastic change in her voice and I know we’re beyond the pleasure point of no return.
My Black Widow brushes her sexy butt against my pain then crawls back spider-like into the drivers seat to give me room to dance for her. Before turning around to face me, she teases me with a brief dance of her own that visibly motivates me.
“I like it when you tease and seduce me” I tell her with sexual-rage in my eyes. She sees the impact of her motivation, so she dances for me again. With her back to the driver’s side door, she faces me with lust flames blazing in her eyes. Fluidly and feverishly, her hand is moving.
I dance one time.
“Oooh, you got me” her entire body shakes and shivers with pleasure.
“Do it again---ooh boy, you are something else. Again. Again.” I dance for her several times as the movement and hunger in her eyes empowers my performance. “You’re mine,” when she says this, I dance faster and fiercer for her, dance until she is overwhelmed by an inner orgasmic implosion that has her body convulsing and cursing.
“Are you okay over there?” I ask her.
“No, I’m not okay” her breathing is rugged and hard, skin glowing “I’m incredible. Baby, sing me one of your songs before…” she doesn’t say it, but we both know the end is near for me and this dream.
Gotta Be by Jagged Edge is playing on the car stereo system. That’s my song too, but I touch the off button and cut it short.
“Come here baby and sit on my lap. I want you to straddle me while I sing to you, so our physical connection will be one and I can gaze into your eyes one more time.” Stealthy and sexy, she sits comfortably and perfectly on top of me. My hands caress her soft hips and butt while her hands explore my buff chest. Our flames become one fire as our bodies burn together. “I wrote this song for you…when our eyes lock” I start to sing and serenade her “time stops…everything around me keeps moving, but nothing else matters to me . . . except you … except yooouuuu” I repeat the chorus while my greedy hands touch her intimately and her rhythmic body moves with me in wet harmony. “When I look into your big-brown-beautiful eyes, I see the best of me,” I sing-rap “now look back into my eyes and see your destiny clearly . . . the moment we met, was serendipity . . . a romantic epiphany . . . no words spoken, but the windows of our souls, knew instantly,” then I sing with louder melodies “baby, your long, black hair is glory . . . now, translate what’s in your eyes to your mouth, and tell me your story” I switch back to a rap tone “you’re so exotic looking, you’ll never bore me … baby, I could stare at you all-damn-day, you’re more entertaining than Maury, oooo, slow down girl.” I stop my song because the intensity of our union soars to pleasure heights that distort my concentration. Drunken love. Our bodies conform and collide chaotically. Hands brace against foggy windows. The car’s light-weight chassis begins to rock. Freak Me Baby by Silk starts playing. Faces contorted by immeasurable desire. Her hair flings and flies everywhere.
We’re so caught up in the powerful, passionate moment that we don’t see it. Traveling at 100 mph, the car speeds over a physical cliff and free-falls for what feels like an indefinite period. At the same time, our bodies reach a different cliff, the emphatic edge of ecstasy, and we dive over into the ocean of orgasm together.
“Please dream of me tomorrow, mmtsk” she kisses me on my lips then stabs me in my heart with her stinger.
She stabs and stings me repeatedly. I try to wake up to avoid the pain, but I can’t move, my muscular system is paralyzed. I’m in the car by myself. Still falling. The jagged rocks below approach faster. Death and destruction are inevitable. I feel so alone and abandoned. So used. So empty. I can feel the full impact and explosion of the crash. I can feel my bones breaking and my skin burning as I die another dream death, but nothing hurts more than my broken heart as I open my tearful eyes.
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