SHAKEIM'S PILLOW TALK BLOG

Chivalry is alive and it’s right here waiting for you. You can put the street novel back on the shelf, it’s time to stimulate those thoughts that haven’t been aroused in awhile. Ladies! It’s time to relax, let your hair down, cuddle up and introduce yourself to all of your desires. Fellas! The gym won’t miss you; the club is the same as it is every night. It’s time to get cozy, wrap those chiseled arms around your lady and allow your Shakeim Edmonds experience to be your emotionally intimate connection for the evening. I entice you to open your mind to one of my thought-provoking blogs that will definitely marinate your spirit with love, passion, and desire.

THE BLOG

FIVE (P's) FOR EVERY WOMAN TO FOLLOW 


He should love you with... PRIORITY

He should love you with... PURPOSE

He should love you with... PERSEVERANCE

He should love you with... PROCLAMATION

But most importantly, he should love you with...  PRAYER


                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

LADIES, THIS IS A MUST READ... (Deep thought of the day) – Life Inspiring  


Just wanted to say a few things to the ladies…

Ladies, stop looking for the man that walks in the room and every woman’s heart drops, stop checking to see if he has a black card, stop checking to see if he drives the newest BMW, stop looking for the man who can buy you Chanel purses every week, stop looking for Mr. 35, with no kids, no baby mama, no drama, and has his own house. (If you find him, God bless you)… but for those of you who live on the planet earth, please understand this.

You wait… wait on that man that God has predestined for you, the man who will love you if he had to push you around in a wheelchair the rest of your life, the man who would die for you without thought, the man who knows that you are a gift from God, the man who will love you with priority, purpose, perseverance, proclamation and prayer.

Maybe God wasn’t ready to give him the black card until he had a PRIORITY, maybe God wasn’t ready to give him the BMW until he had a PURPOSE, maybe God wasn’t ready to give him the cash until he had PERSEVERANCE, maybe God wasn’t ready to give him a house until he had PROCLAMATION, but most importantly, maybe God wasn’t ready to give him anything… until his PRAYER… was for you.

Breakdown:

LADIES… Don’t search for the blessing, be the blessing


Everything He’s Not 

Smooth chocolate rose from the caramel colored Bonjour Schlossberg sheets. My eyes independently explored his robust body, halting at his well defined hips, as he autocratically strolled around the room gathering his clothes. Chest muscles protruded through his white T-shirt causing my inner core to thirst once again. Esmond had already extinguished my sensual fire, but the site of him gave me renewed desire, only he could please.

His confident smile emerged soaked with innocent arrogance, “Good Morning… Whitney Houston.”

Like a childish schoolgirl I blushed without shame, “You’ve changed my name” I teasingly replied.

“Well, by the way you were hitting those high notes last night. I figured you were auditioning for American Idol” he joked.

Esmond wasn’t lying, either. He had me and my body singing soprano, alto, tenor, baritone and bass, all at the same time. He was the director and my body was the chorus. Wherever he positioned his “Baton”, caused me to shout harmoniously. Submissively I danced to his rhythm all night long until my sensual hunger had been pacified.

Again that thick Nestle chocolate body flowed towards me. This time a tender kiss from his soft lips completed his embrace.

“What would you like for breakfast, my queen?”

All 32 of my bright white teeth appeared as my smile stretched damn near the width of my face. “How about some more of you?” I replied flirtatiously as my glossy eyes locked in on his with sincere intentions.

Esmond knows that I want him in more ways than one, not just sexually… but the truth is… I can’t have him. Or at least, not right now.

His loving eyes stare through my soul to my heart. He sees himself but realizes that he’s not there alone.

“I’m not trying to offer you more, I’m trying to give you all.” Esmond asserted.

Like LoLo Jones leaped over the hurdles during the Olympics, I hurdled over his remark knowing that his heart had spoken directly to mines. Esmond was speaking the language of love and my heart had heard him loud and clear. My mind rushed to the rescue before the conversation could move any further.

“I haven’t had strawberry crepes in awhile” I requested.

Esmond is an excellent cook, he’s almost as good at cooking, as he is at loving making, but not quite. This morning he won’t be putting those skills to use, however. He’s flown in a French chef from Brittany for the week to cater to all my culinary desires. Knowing that French dishes are my weakness, Esmond is determined to prove that he can satisfy all my needs, whether sensual, emotional or material.

Truly, he has the ability to subside any concerns or desires I may have. The conflicting factor is that Esmond is structured, very predictable, which leads to listlessness, which is so far from who I am. I am so different from the monotonous lifestyle that I know Esmond wants to escort me into. I am an extremely different woman, which is one of the two reasons why Esmond doesn’t have all of my heart. The other reason is very unpredictable, very unstable and very different, the same kind of different as me. His name is Anton Washington. Anton’s completely opposite of everything that Esmond is. He’s tall and slim, more bone than bulk, more ambition than money, and more unpredictable than a hurricane churning out over the Atlantic. Anton is rugged. He rarely shaves and when he does, he’s the splitting image of Eric Benet, which is the sole reason he hates to shave. He hardly eats unless I cook. He’d probably die of starvation before he ever stepped into a kitchen to stir up a meal. Anton too is a star player between the sheets.  Slender and limber he’s able to work my body like a centipede, pleasing me from every angle, any position. My body belongs to him when we make love. I can’t be in control. He won’t allow it. It’s kind of scary when a man knows how to please your body better than you do, but I never hesitate to give him total power, either. It turns me on to not know what my next pleasure will be, but my body has the assurance that it will be pleased. Anton has made me an addict of unexpectation and surprise. 


BLACK MARRIAGE TIP by S. Edmonds 


                                                           BLACK MARRIAGE TIP by S. Edmonds

Imagine how many successful black marriages there would be, if (certain) women stopped thinking that a man who called them a “B” was only showing tough love and they actually allowed the brothas who called them “angels” to treat them like one.

WOW…

Shakeim Edmonds

35 and Single? 

If a woman makes it past the age of 35 and she’s never been married (but she has always desired to be), if the opportunity arises and true love does eventually settle upon her, do you think that the woman would make a good wife/spouse?

Do you think it would be hard for a woman to allow the man to become the priest of their home, the leader and the head of house after all the years of her providing for herself/children/family? Wouldn’t that be kind of a difficult situation for a man and essentially the woman?  

THERE IS A MAN FOR YOU 

For every man that hurt you,
There is a man out there who will comfort the pain

For every man that lied to you,
There is a man out there who will shelter you with his honestly

For every man that didn’t appreciate you,
There is a man out there who will value your every substance

Breakdown:
Give God the same commitment you gave them fools and see how that works out for you.

S. Edmonds, “The Teddy Bear of Literature”



Jezebel, "The Series" 

The Plan

Jezebel arrived on the 51 Cardinal Amtrak from New York in the wee hours of the morning. Darkness and a bitter cold greeted her arrival as she stepped off the platform onto the weathered street. Welcome to Cincinnati, the sign read but with the arrival of Jezebel that was a greeting the city may have wanted to keep. Cincinnati wasn’t famous for hurricanes, but a Category 6 had just rolled in to town, the only question was… how much damage she was going to do.

  “Excuse me sir” she said, awakening the out cold cabby from his sleep. “How much to go down to The Cincinnatian Hotel?”

The elderly Hispanic man with salt and pepper hair struggled to get a clear view of his soon to be passenger. His hands anxiously shook as he searched to find his glasses that had fallen from his face during his nap. Finally he found them. As he placed them on his face, Jezebel’s image became clear. He froze in his seat at the site of her.

It wasn’t anything uncommon to Jezebel. All men froze at the site of her. Married, single, gay. It didn’t matter. Every man stopped in his tracks whenever Jezebel was in their presence. Color didn’t matter either. It was hard not to be mesmerized by her five eleven, one hundred sixty pound frame that was plated with smooth dark chocolate skin. Her angelic glow streamed from the top of her head to the lowermost part of her body, creating images of Nestle waterfalls. She was pleasingly thick. Backwoods, cornbread fed, hips, breast, thighs, thick. Jezebel spoke with a naturally seductive voice that created a melody more relaxing than a Luther Vandross concordant, so it was easy for men to become entrapped in her web and the cabby was sizing up to be the first victim, in the new city.

Finally the cab driver awoke from his trance.

  “You know what ma’am. I was just about to call it a night and I pass that hotel on the way home anyway. I’m not even going to charge you” the cab driver smiled. Eyeing her with a lustful taste in his mouth, he noticed that Jezebel had only a Gucci carry bag slung over her shoulder. “You got any luggage besides that carry bag” he asked in his deep Puerto Rican ascent.

Jezebel smirked.

  “No, this is how I travel. I come with nothing… but leave with everything” she chuckled flirtatiously.

The cab driver glared into the rearview mirror at Jezebel, as she seductively glared back, both knowing that though it was mid-winter and well below freezing, a heat wave had just hit the city. He remained silent for the first few blocks of the drive, but his curiosity ate at him like hungry wolves.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what is it that you do?” he inquired.

Jezebel contemplated her answer.

  “I’m into investments… HIGH dollar investments” Jezebel smiled.

The cabby again glared at her, “Well, I’m sure you’ll find some good investments here in Cincinnati” he smirked sarcastically, knowing that whatever Jezebel was looking to get into, she’d surely find in the City of Seven Hills. “In fact, if I had the money, I’d invest in a stock myself” he said, trying to indirectly inquire just how much it would cost to snag Jezebel.

Jezebel crossed her legs allowing her thighs to expose. She was advertising the product but there was no way in hell, the cabby could have paid the price for what it cost to attract Jezebel. He couldn’t even register on Jezebel’s radar, not even when she first started the hustle ten years prior. High dollar targets, high dollar returns was her motto. That was her oath that she lived by, and if need be, she’d die by it. She eased open her blouse allowing the driver to see the outline of her naturally firm breast. He was barely able to keep his eyes on the road as his head snapped back and forth between the road and the two size C’s that were snuggled inside of her Vera Wang bra.

  “Yeah, if you don’t have it, it’s best not to take the risk. Cause the market is bad right now… you might end up losing everything” Jezebel replied humorously.

The driver knew what she meant, he didn’t need any more hints. He turned his head back towards the road and never spoke again.

  “Well, here we are ma’am” he said slowing the cab to a stop. “It’s been a pleasure”.

Jezebel’s glossy eyes focused on the cab driver. “Pleasures come with a cost” she said as she reached into his right shirt pocket removing the cash that was tucked away.

The cab driver didn’t resist as she placed the wrinkled bills inside her purse.

  “See… I told you. Don’t take the risk, you might end up losing everything” Jezebel winked as she exited the cab.

As she walked away, the driver starred, taking one final glimpse of Jezebel.

Exotic tropical plants arranged in lavish patterns and Esteban Paris candles gave the lobby of the Cincinnatian an eye-catching appeal, the ambiance of the room would give guest visions of an enclosed tropic island. Never had the beauty of the breath taking room had to compete, but now Jezebel was in the building. The amativeness in her walk was alluring enough to make her shadow jealous as strolled to the front desk of the hotel.

  “Can I help you ma’am” the clerk asked.

Jezebel glanced around the hotel lobby before opening her Gucci bag to grab the reservation printout.

  “Yes, I have a reservation” she said, handing the crimpled paper over to the clerk.

The front desk clerk unraveled the printout, eyeing Jezebel suspiciously.

Jezebel continued observing the exits to the lobby. It was all part of her routine. To be aware of her surroundings, at all times. Unbeknownst to the clerk, Jezebel had been through the procedure dozens of times. She wasn’t foreign to any of it. She had rehearsed every step that was taking place. Even the crimpled paper was part of the script. Jezebel already knew it was going to take the clerk forty seconds to check the reservation, a minute and a half to recheck the information displayed and another fifteen seconds before the clerk got up the nerve to say what she needed to say.

Slowly she stepped away from the counter scanning the long hallway that lead to the elevators. She counted the security cameras lined along the high earth tone colored walls.

  “Oh… I see you will be staying in our Emery Presidential Suite”, the clerk interrupted but Jezebel kept her attention focused on mentality sketching the layout of the hotel.

  “Uh…hmm” she replied never making eye contact with the clerk.

The clerk herself leaned over the counter in an attempt to observe what attracted Jezebel’s attention. She was oblivious to the fact that it was all part of a carefully orchestrated plan.

  “Are you alright” questioned the clerk, alarmed by the obsession Jezebel appeared to have in the hotel.

Jezebel’s signature smile formed on her face, as she focused her attention back on the clerk. “Everything is fine…just fine”. Jezebel confirmed.

The stunned clerk nervously watched the computer screen appear displaying the cost and length of stay for the suite. She hesitantly addressed Jezebel, “Uh… Ma’am, there was a mistake on your reservation, I believe”.

  “What makes you say that?” Jezebel questioned.

She was amazed at how well everything was playing out.

  “Well, the reservation shows the suite is reserved for 90 days, the cost of the suite is $5,000 dollars a night, and it also shows you’ll be paying in cash.” The puzzled clerk responded.

Jezebel reached inside of her leather Gucci bag, pulled out five neatly bundled stacks of cash and smiled. “No, I don’t think there is any mistake at all”.

The clerk didn’t hesitate handing Jezebel the room keys. She had never seen that much money, and though she wasn’t sure if all the money was there, it was enough to make her realize that Jezebel was about business.

  “Ms. Jones, would you like for me to get you any assistance” the young clerk’s new cheerful voice spoke.

Jezebel grinded devilishly, as she lowered her black shades to cover her eyes.

Truth was, assistance was what most men needed once Jezebel had placed them in her scope. Asking her if she needed any assistance was like asking a doctor if he needed a cure. Jezebel didn’t need any assistance with what she herself had orchestrated.

There were no coincidences. Everything that Jezebel did was well though-out, well planned and well executed, with precision. If anything happened in Jezebel’s world, it was because she allowed it. Control was something she always had to have. It’s wasn’t negotiable, everything was done with her authority, including the way men acted and responded to her. If any assistance was needed, it was for her adversaries.

Entering the suite she went through her normal inspection. Carefully she checked the room for wire taps, with expertise of a forensics investigator she searched the room for hidden cameras. The room was clear. Jezebel checked her watch. There was still 30 seconds left.

Flopping to the bed she waited.

Thirty seconds later like clockwork her cell rang.

  “I’m here” she answered.

  “Did everything go smoothly” the soft voice asked from the other end of the phone.

  “It always does” Jezebel replied with excitement.

Snuggling deep into the feathered oversize pillow, Jezebel relaxed with a sigh.

  “Are you ready” the voice asked.

  “Let’s do it” Jezebel confirmed.

Instantly the hotel went black, silence filled the walls. Jezebel lay quietly listening to the guest in the hotel scramble around in the dark, some ventured into the hallway questioning what had happened.

  “Almost there” the voice said, as Jezebel listened with a submission ear. “Ok… Done, I’m bringing the power back up”.

The hotel lights flickered on again. Appliances beeped as they regenerated power. Everything was back to normal, or at least it appeared to be, however nothing was normal about Jezebel’s life. “It’s Jezebel’s world now”, she whispered to herself trickling off to sleep with laughter.



by Shakeim Edmonds


WHAT (REAL) MEN REALLY WANT A WOMAN TO DO 

“Get our attention, then pickpocket our minds”

Ladies,

As men, we really do appreciate the great efforts you put into looking your absolute best. The aura of a woman is always surrounded by sexiness when her being in marinated with confidence. We appreciate you squeezing your feet into those Nine West and Red Bottom shoes so that those calves are looking tight, we appreciate you grinding through that two hour workout to ensure when you slide on that dress it fits just right. (If you use Body Magic, that’s cool too… you still looking good), we appreciate you budgeting your dollars so you can have that hot hair-do and we appreciate you wearing those perfumes that smell as sweet as the flowers in heaven. The truth to the matter is, men don’t have a clue what you’re wearing… but the most important thing is… we know YOU LOOK GOOD in whatever it is.

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED: You have got the man’s attention

Now, at this point, you’ve only got our attention. Basically, you’ve got the attention of our brain. Since you all (woman) say we (men) have two of them, this is a dangerous situation. At this time we are thinking about you, (because that’s what brain does, it thinks). You are only in a man’s head. (Read between the lines) You are only in his head. It’s at this point that a REAL MAN makes a decision but the real decision lies within you (the woman). A REAL MAN is not seeking to explore your sacred sweetness, because it can only resolve the desire of the head. Only a man who is a virtuoso of sexual desideration would have those intentions. But there are questions that arise. Are you willing to compromise yourself, will you curtail the substance of who you are to please his brain? If so, a REAL MAN will reject you anyway. No man wants a woman who will discount, discredit, or devalue herself… even if the intent was for the purpose of pleasing him. What you have ultimately decided to do is please his brain (whether one or two) and if you really understand how the brain works you’ll understand this… it learns something then it must move on, in order to keep evolving it must keeping learning, it must keep seeking… it must keep moving. (You’ll get that sentence later) So here is some sound advice, don’t try to satisfy our brains, they are ever evolving, and besides… we got two of them remember? (Only REAL MEN will catch that)

WHAT REAL MEN REALLY WANT

If you want a REAL MAN, enthrall his mind. Be the reason he can’t sleep at night because of a stimulating conversation you both had. Be the reason he revaluates himself and questions God if he’s the right man for you. Be the reason that if he’s not the man that he should be, that he ask God to renew in him the right spirit for the ability to lead you. Be the purpose for his prayer. You haven’t ever heard anybody ask, “Did I cross your brain today?” The question is always, “Did I cross your mind?” Be the reason that when the game is on, he can’t even pay attention because you have captivated his thoughts in such a manner his (brain) can’t even focus on anything else. (Oh, you just missed that) Let me break that down for you. If you can pickpocket his mind or possess his thoughts to the point where his (brain) can’t even focus on anything else, you don’t have to worry about him cheating when you do get in a relationship with him. Hence the saying, “MIND OVER MATTER”, if you got my mind… it don’t matter what the other woman wear, it don’t matter what she say, it don’t matter what she do, it don’t matter how she smell. Ladies, I charge you to conduct a humble introspection of yourself, and ask yourself this question… “If God has a man out there for me, am I just in his head?” Any woman can get a man’s attention, but what she does after that is what makes all the difference in the world.

Shakeim Edmonds "The Teddy Bear of Literature"




Everything He's Not  

                                                 Threes Company

Smooth chocolate rose from the caramel colored Bonjour Schlossberg sheets. My eyes independently explored his robust body, halting at his well defined hips, as he autocratically strolled around the room gathering his clothes. Chest muscles protruded through his white T-shirt causing my inner core to thirst once again. Esmond had already extinguished my sensual fire, but the site of him gave me renewed desire, only he could please.

His confident smile emerged soaked with innocent arrogance, “Good Morning… Whitney Houston.”

Like a childish schoolgirl I blushed without shame, “You’ve changed my name” I teasingly replied.

“Well, by the way you were hitting those high notes last night. I figured you were auditioning for American Idol” he joked.

Esmond wasn’t lying, either. He had me and my body singing soprano, alto, tenor, baritone and bass, all at the same time. He was the director and my body was the chorus. Wherever he positioned his “Baton”, caused me to shout harmoniously, submissively I danced to his rhythm all night long until my sensual hunger had been pacified.

Again that thick Nestle chocolate body flowed towards me. This time a tender kiss from his soft lips completed his embrace.

“What would you like for breakfast, my queen?”

All 32 of my bright white teeth appeared as my smile stretched damn near the width of my face. “How about some more of you?” I replied flirtatiously as my glossy eyes locked in on his with sincere intentions.

Esmond knows that I want him in more ways than one, not just sexually… but the truth is… I can’t have him. Or at least, not right now.

His loving eyes stare through my soul to my heart. He sees himself but realizes that he’s not there alone.

“I’m not trying to offer you more, I’m trying to give you all.” Esmond asserted.

Like LoLo Jones leaped over the hurdles during the Olympics, I hurdled over his remark knowing that his heart had spoken directly to mines. Esmond was speaking the language of love and my heart had heard him loud and clear. My mind rushed to the rescue before the conversation could move any further.

“I haven’t had strawberry crepes in awhile” I requested.

Esmond is an excellent cook, he’s almost as good at cooking, as he is at loving making, but not quite. This morning he won’t be putting those skills to use, however. He’s flown in a French chef from Brittany for the week to cater to all my culinary desires. Knowing that French dishes are my weakness, Esmond is determined to prove that he can satisfy all my needs, whether sensual, emotional or material.

Truly, he has the ability to subside any concerns or desires I may have. The conflicting factor is that Esmond is structured, very predictable, which leads to listlessness, which is so far from who I am. I am so different from the monotonous lifestyle that I know Esmond wants to escort me into. I am a extremely different woman, which is one of the two reasons why Esmond doesn’t have all of my heart. The other reason is very unpredictable, very unstable and very different, the same kind of different as me. His name is Anton Washington. Anton’s completely opposite of everything that Esmond is. He’s tall and slim, more bone than bulk, more ambition than money, and more unpredictable than a hurricane churning out over the Atlantic. Anton is rugged. He rarely shaves and when he does, he’s the splitting image of Eric Benet, which is the sole reason he hates to shave. He hardly eats unless I cook. He’d probably die of starvation before he ever stepped into a kitchen to stir up a meal. Anton too is a star player between the sheets. Slender and limber he’s able to work my body like a centipede, pleasing me from every angle, any position. My body belongs to him when we make love. I can’t be in control. He won’t allow it. It’s kind of scary when a man knows how to please your body better than you do, but I never
hesitate to give him total power, either. It turns me on to not know what my next pleasure will be, but my body has the assurance that it will be pleased. Anton has made me an addict of unexpectation and surprise.


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