Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Lust in the Mosque

Secrets, lies, and lust. Sister Gloria's mind was everywhere and on everything, but the message.

Little brown Sister Gloria trembled and rocked, awed by the virile velocity of Minister Q as he sprayed his words like machine gun fire over the assembly. Minister Q, the "Apostle" of the "New Nation," a spin-off from the old Nation of Islam, had a "Message for America" this morning. His epistles burst from the bulging veins in his neck and shot from his tongue like bullets of venom. His congregation craned their necks forward to catch every drop. But no one was more thirsty than Sister Gloria.
Sister Gloria absorbed every drop of sweat that trickled from Minster Q's forehead, every drop soaking his white shirt and exposing the dark muscles of his chest. Sister Gloria watched the sweat soak the waistline of Minister Q's black trousers. She imagined the oily dew making his buttocks shine like onyx. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply the musk of his dangling sex. She parted her lips...

Sister Gloria's eyes popped open and she jammed her fists into her lap. She was a pure and saved sister now. However, she couldn’t drive away the funkiness of her past life--the funk of men's unwashed bodies, dollars that reeked of cigarette smoke and sweat, and stale gin on thick lips. These odors lingered in Sister Gloria's nostrils like the stench of unwashed panties. And here the young minister was ranting against the very thing poisoning Sister Gloria's thoughts this morning: Lust and filth! Sister Gloria closed her eyes. Minister Q stood in front of her naked, erect, black and shiny. She started to weep. A Sister seated next to her offered a tissue. The congregation assumed Sister Gloria was overcome by the message instead of the messenger.

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