Sometimes love can be destructive. A chance meeting between two mournful souls sparks an exciting tryst between the two strangers. Will Gloria and Jacob be allowed to infect everything around them? Till their love grows as a cancer that threatens to take down one of the largest organizations in the world?
written by Jermaine Williams
A gathering of slaves in servitude.
King's hailed at the alter. Washing down aged grapes.
As the loyal follower's pride swallowed by failed escapes.
Surrounded by wives, husbands, monsters and meek. In each other common ground will seek.
Partying with fake smiles.
As cell phones ring, unanswered numbers dialed.
My seat in this cauldron of cavorting.
At god's right hand. The prophet lies.
Because I control the world's fortune with secret ties.
A banker's past is what I walk.
Great fortune flowed around me as I talked.
But locked in a vault was all my fault. My shame concealed revealed my lot.
No sunlight breaks for a sunlit moon.
Clouds cast shadows in well lit rooms.
My brandy is watered ice melted a party from hell. My headache worsens, the pounding, I swell.
Stumbling crumbling to the balcony deck.
Mumbling, fumbling my life is a wreck.
A snowy river, a spectator, a voice.
"You should go back inside if your cold. OK then fine, your choice".
Short hair, black dress, a shape that is fine.
"Whats wrong young man do I trouble your mind"?
"No you don't. I wondered if you were cold".
"Are you going to keep me warm. Now that would be bold."
The snowflakes floated down like cotton rain.
No quiver, no shiver, her body was tame.
"So stranger. Does your spouse know your here"?
"Your very personal for a woman I just met mere"
"minutes ago and the answer is no, she has no clue she does not know". "What's your name"? "Jacob Nouveau".
"No just your first name".
"Why only my first"
"Because your past doesn't matter to me. It has no real worth".
"Where I work last names bear great fruit. They symbolize a past that represents my birth".
"The past is immaterial in the present. To strangers only the now matters, get it."
Her hand slid up my arm soft to the touch. Her hand surrounds my tie, a clutch.
And then it happened. Our lips touched.
We exchanged gifts of passion. In the dead of the night, hushed.
I held her tight. Turned her waist 180 degrees.
Pressing myself up against her backside. She's gripping my sleeves.
Her hips sliding from lap to abdomen. She grips the balcony. The joy we created couldn't be mimicked with alchemy. I try to move away but she grabs my belt buckle. She lifts the back of her dress.
One hand on her breast she felt suckled.
"Please me now she says. Your wife, that's the past".
I oblige her. Upon entry I sink deep into a silhouette of pleasures.
Her legs lock as my waist slaps against her skin.
Suctioned in to abdomen, peeling off like fresh fruit.
Bliss covers my face. Biting tongue to remain mute.
Flashes illuminate my face as I sink into her womb.
My toes curl trying to hold it back, not now... to soon.
I release and she does too.
She pulls down her skirt and begins to walk away into the snowy dew.
I reach for her arm. Drawing her back. Lost without a clue.
She lays her warm supple hand on my chest.
"Where are you going I ask"?
To which she replied, "To freshen up".
"Will I ever see you again"?
"Why do you need to see me", she replies.
"Because... of what just..."
"Oh that! That was the past".
She leaves me on the balcony. On fire surrounded by snow. The world oblivious to our mischievous deeds. The world does not know.
Motionless, wet, surrounded by god's white frozen tears. Seeing the world as it was. Dry, lifeless, and dispassionate. And filled with fear.
But she was the water beneath the red rocks, dried sand, where none grows.
Blooming in a sea of death. She was rare a desert rose.
And now I'll never know
Gloria is contemplating suicide. She sensed it the night she met Jacob. That in all this time there was something deep inside of her missing. A piece she had either never know or not felt in an eon.
written by Jermaine Williams
What kind of fear lies within the deepest regions of ones mind.
Fear of the unknown. An eye that is blind.
Belief once held. A fiction of faith.
As a woman in a world. A predestined fate.
King's overthrow armies just to hold her.
Eyes eaten by greed. Just to control her.
But yet she endures. Wrapped in plush linens and dead furs.
A woman of great sagacity. With no dreams deterred.
A queen's desire. The wings of an eagle.
A mask to wear. One they just see through.
Until that time. When she can live of free mind.
Wives will swallow envy.
While there husbands taste the waters of salacity. Her footsteps, their path be laid. In a coitolimian everglade.
Waters flood on open brooks. Splashing the rocks, showering nooks.
Above the brook stood a bridge among seas. Upon that brook she grieved.
Counting the feet if fallen into the arms of demise.
Heart crushed from deceit and lies.
With all that she had. Had she not freedom.
What angels are slaves in the gardens of eden?
The Arch's dwell in the shadows of dark.
Losing the soul and rejecting their heart.
She did know, she did not go.
To this place for which she came. Where hearts sunk low in empty chasms.
She did not know, she could not fathom.
She imagined, with a sense of clarity.
She investigated and questioned with sincerity.
All the tryst, all the kings she had enjoyed.
But only Jacob made her realize her void.
What must one do to challenge their fate?
How do you cook a future that has already been baked.
Maybe its too late. That is why she stood on the brook.
While waters splashed the rocks showering nooks.
Unable to commit suicide Gloria returns home to her horny husband, but all she can think about is Jacob. Since she can't have him she does the only thing she can. She pleases herself.
written by Jermaine Williams
Returning from death’s edge on the brook.
She returns with disappointment and noticeably shook.
Into the driveway, at the door and into the fire.
The angel has returned like a bird on a wire.
No matter, its over. She can once again dawn the mask.
"Hi Honey", he says. Lying restless upon the bed.
No questions spoken. For she can tell no lies if he does not ask.
No answers given, no greeting spoke. Not even as she lies in the tub as her body soaked.
She dries off naked and moist.
Her husband watches and speaks with a dominant voice.
Why don’t you let me help you?
She does not speak.
His hand rises as she changes position.
Not tonight she says, “I just want to sleep”
Snarls and groans and dark undertones.
Changes his demeanor.
She leaves the room naked washed, dried and cleaner.
Into the office. A seat and a screen.
A machine with a camera, a thought and a dream.
Leaning back in the seat.
She clicks with the mouse.
Left hand between her legs. She clenches her mouth.
A click, a click, a pleasurable scene.
She clicks and clicks a fantasy dream.
Her legs tighten gripping her arm.
Eyes closed with reflections intentions they swarm.
The balcony, the snow and Jacob. Reflections of past. Gripping the railing, pounding his waist, while holding her ass.
In front of the world exposed, under moon.
While devils dance and laugh trapped in a room.
She felt freedom and life as reflections filled her heart.
She felt passion, no love, or something like art.
Alas it was over her legs loosened her arm.
It was over no passion, no action, no charm.
She looks at the screen, a shock on her face.
Another image appears taking its place.
Its her and Jacob embraced in still frame.
Someone has captured their deceptive game.
And as she sat naked terrified and afraid.
Her husband enters the door looking to get laid.
Her husband, the screen and Gloria too.
A lie, a deception. What will she do?
He is known as the photographer. He revels in his ability to capture the true face of his subjects. On a night where he captured Jacob and Gloria's infidelity. He exposed his own true self portrait. One of infatuation and lust.
A Photo to Covet
written by Jermaine Williams
Just moments on the hands of clocks.
A frozen passion my eyes twitched as I watched.
The undeserved, foul beings, deflower an angel.
An angel meant for me.
She was blinded by simple pleasures and could not see.
Her broken wings kept her flightless.
Wolves fed on her soul making her lifeless.
I danced among the covenant of demons.
I saw laughter in eyes wide shut but photographed souls screaming.
Held down by the weight of wealth and all we do to ensure that kings do remain kings.
Look at what we give.
Ensuring they attain all worldly things.
I frame it between my cameras lense.
Enemies who disguise themselves as friends.
Deceivers to their own nature.
All for wood shaved down to stitched paper.
I'm an artist. I show the world for what it really is. I frame the world beyond what people hope. Peeling back layers of onion skins.
And expose the true rot within the heart of all at Venton International.
Its masterful, how I force you to look back at you.
But like all great demons they shut there eyes.
When lies, reflect in mirrors like rain water reflects the skies.
But this angel is pure tainted by corruption.
Recycled and consumed by consumption.
Disruptions keep this angel's wing's broken.
I want to save her through my lens, stretch her eyes wide open.
I love you angel. It takes all my strength not to reach through my lens and take you. To a place people appreciate you. To a place you relate too.
Something that can make you... Whole again.
I wish we were friends.
Then we would have something to build on.
That last long. That no bonds could break. Yeah that strong.
I wouldn't use you like Jacob.
Make fake love, then break up.
I saw it that night.
Flashes showered your faces.
You looked happy for once. A momentary stasis.
I saved the moment to remind myself.
That momentary bliss grows from more than wealth.
I lie dormant in stealth for many years.
Filled with many fears. Held back many tears.
But no more.
Its time to even the score.
I won't lie back and allow the world to equate your essence to that of a whore.
I will show you what I see, how I know you.
What is so true.
That you are the angel you've grown too.
And once you see, you'll bless me with true love.
Something your much more worthy of...
Death, rebirth and even everlasting life.
What I would give to make you more than just a wife.
To my boss I wish him loss.
And all the kings men must know the cost.
Of falling out of your favor.
Worshiping wood shaved down to stitched paper.
Meeting the maker and smitten with news.
Eternal blues, kings educated with the knowledge of fools.
I covet this photo. With jealousy and rage. In my remaining days. I want to expose you.
Compose you then hold you.
But first I must deceive you.
With lustful mysteries like thieves do.
So you can see through.
My lens as I see you.
Fate brings Gloria and Jacob back together and exposes who they are to each other. As they get closer to learning the truth they are both overwhelmed by being in the same place at the same time. Can these two secret lovers keep the secret?
written by Jermaine Williams
Sun risen, light crests the walls of my office.
A new discovery maybe a sign from prophets. Meeting with my bosses, last minute lunch. News told over hushes between wine sips. Urgent news is my hunch.
News of recession has banks visibly shaken.
Ensuring ones future means making sure whats yours is never taken.
Politicians feeding at a pigs trough.
Like moths drawn to flames they form human chains to protect us at all cost.
Formally dressed roped with a queens linen.
I feel weird today. Like something unexpected. News forgotten mentions.
Fumbling with ears. Golden rings loop and fill the holes.
Victor looks worried. More than usual.
I fix his suit and attempt to lock eyes.
Hidden deep in his frozen facial. Are treasures of secrets, deceits and lies.
I read the news. Failure banks fallen like Seattle rain. Government investigations, hidden loop holes, blemishes that turned stained.
Light shines through the tint on my limousine. Warming me with golden sun burst.
The scene is prophetic like north stars leading three kings to baby Jesus on earth.
Foretold on tablets, prognosticated omens, told to men by abbots
I knew I would learn something from this meeting.
Some unknown seeds unsown. More than a crisis found on wealth mealing.
I felt something familiar yet unknown.
Seated when I arrived was the fed chairman, chairman of the SEC and the director of savings and loans.
Days like this I ate apathy like fruit. Remained mute in my reflections but secretly was astute.
Today I felt queezy stomach tumbling. My husband grumbling low air.
The closer we marched the more I felt despair.
Reflections of the brook. Converging on parallel lines like rooks.
Arriving on the door of the restaurant. Lightheaded and shorted breath.
Hormones racing, warnings of death.
Something is coming. Something from days since gone. I must be vigilant I must remain strong.
Laughter over wine. Business was common.
My eyes locked with hers. The taste was quite Saffron.
A balcony, a secret, a flame.
The angel, the seducer, the name. Mrs. Victor Venton.
Suits encircled around a cauldron of wine. Smiling, conversing as they dined.
Just one face brought my heart to a pause.
For it was he, my paramour twas. President to my husband's bank.
Jacob and Gloria
Seas shift sometimes going in different directions. Only to return and crash into each other. Life's cruel lesson.