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D.C. Calling Corey

October 16, 2014

June 2014

With Mary perfuming the air, Lyn, myself and her man Ty were enjoying the atmosphere of my villa with a soundtrack playing in the background. We began interpreting my art when Corey buzzes my apartment. He enters the festivities and is face to face with Lyn and finally present in the flesh. Corey takes the grocery bag in his hand and places it on my countertop.

Ty impressed me with his interpretation of my work and how he even opened my eyes to a few differences in the piece "TRANSFORMATION." Laughter filled the air and although Corey doesn't smoke, he is an enthusiast. An oversized canvas painting entitled "Desire in Springtime," an ode to the last day with Devin (the story is featured in my current book Ayo: Lost and Found) with two people entangled within one another.

With Mary in hand, Lyn passionately dissects the emotions painted and being viewed. I love art being subjective and in the eye of the beholder. Corey just observed for a bit while formulating his opinion. I felt proud and overwhelmed from the love being expressed.

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Then there was a debate about the body language of the two subjects in the painting. How the feminine subject was readily in love more than the masculine. Not that he doesn't love her, however, he's still hesitant and afraid to let fully go of himself and be completely open. Interpreted Lyn.

"They straight up f---in'!" joked Ty.

Hmmm. Never looked at the piece that way. They're a combination of both views. It wasn't difficult to paint yet the more I looked at it the more I realized the disappointment I felt ... key word felt!

I met Corey in the kitchen with a kiss and embraced his neck when Lyn caught the cue and both her and Ty made their exit.

Corey pulls me closer and says: "I wanna watch you cook in nothing except an apron."

Happily, I obliged to his request and readied myself. When I reentered the kitchen, I was wearing my red apron and nothing else. I walked slowly over to the pots stirring when Corey comes from behind and turns the pots down. Quickly he turns me around and kisses me some more.

"Remember how I pinned you up against your doorway? How did it go again ... oh yeah like this." He says while picking me up and pins my body against the refrigerator. I love being handled. I felt his passion in the form of his tongue trailing down to my right nipple commencing suction and pleasure.

He gently turns me around as his lips touched my buttocks and spread them apart to taste my freshly washed nectar. Holding on to the oven door handle I bent over hot pots while Corey eats my Hot Pocket. Within minutes my countertop is utilized. I feel hands caressing me and our lips touching. Paralyzed from Corey's efforts, I sat up taking in every taste he made. Don't worry, nothing got burned. Except for the slowly cooked chicken in the oven ... well ... it's more like rock solid bone dried chicken now since I kinda sorta forgot about it until the next morning.

In my bed, under the sheets, we smashed repeatedly. Not sure if it was Mary or the high he was giving me, or a combo of both, but next thing I knew I began crying. Corey kisses my tears and I felt like silk. The beauty performed and created between us. It wasn't out of hurt yet it stemmed from a deeply satisfied space. I hadn't felt this way since Omar but this was no comparison. Corey has once again opened me up much more deeper than flesh, yet I also felt a hint of sadness.

Corey finally got the call from his new job in D.C. saying he'd been hired. I knew it was coming eventually, yet I didn't want to accept it. It had been quite a while since I've had someone so into me and made to feel this special. I didn't want to be selfish, but I also grew tired of always being so understanding. For once I've come across rare potential and now he's leaving. Ugh and shade!

How is it we missed each other? As usual, bad timing is against me. We've lived in Atlanta around the same length of time and never interacted until now. In my heart of hearts, had it been different, we'd be together right now.

After our session, we lay in bed and watched a movie. His heartbeat greeted my eardrums as my heightened senses exhausted my guard even more. Not that I ever had my guard up with him, but I have to admit its difficult having to withhold the feelings I'm developing. It's been about a few weeks since we've been intimately and physically involved. How refreshing it is to know someone else is just into your as you are to them. I must also admit my fear of being lonely again. As confident as I am, I too have my insecure seconds. Yet I'm reminded of everything I've been through as I glance around my villa. From the social abuse of my peers and adult life to the brutal epiphanies of my younger life, I can honestly say I did well. Now I'm at the "Now what?" stage in my life. The moment I moved into my place I no longer had employment and from March until now I've been working for myself full time. I have the freedom I love, although I have rough days. I've been here before so I'm feeling at ease. It's no more than the faith I'm developing in my life. So far in some crazy fashion, I'm always provided. Thank You! Almighty Love! So to have that on my shoulders suddenly melt away I was enjoying a moment so euphoric. I was experiencing the top two -- intimacy and consistency ... my lawd!

"Okay, it's time for battle scar stories," said Corey.

I showed him the first one I ever got. On my right thigh I have a cut from when my shoes stumped onto the uneven pavement and glass slipped from my five year old hands. I told him about the scar on my left temple when some kids were throwing sticks at one another and I was caught in the crossfire and I remembered the blood. I remembered Momma's scream. I also had scars I didn't want to reveal just yet. But Corey grabs my hand and runs it across his right side explaining the different scars from dialysis and having a kidney replaced he named "Keisha." Here I was afraid of something small at least to comparison. Yet he reassured me that what ever it was I could show him. Eventually I did with mine and shared.

We ate dinner and greeted the Saturday 2 a.m. rain with candles lit and a rub down from one another.


Thursday, June 26, 10 a.m.

Walking over to Common Ground Ministries to hear special guest civil rights icon Andrew Young speak, I got a phone call from my girl Amber from CDC:

"Hey!" She says with her excited North Carolinian accent.

"What are you doing next Wednesday and Thursday?"

"Nothing immediate, what's up?"

"Would you like to go to L.A. and be on BET's new show with KeKe Palmer?"

"YYYEEEEEAAAAASASSSSSSSSS!!! WHAT TIME YOU NEED ME AT THE AIRPORT?"

"I'll email you all of the details!" said an ecstatic Amber beaming through the phone. Rejoicing on John Wesley Dobbs Ave., Lyn congratulated and celebrated with her freshly done ponytail effortlessly swinging.

At Common Ground, our very special guest civil rights icon Andrew Young blessed us with his wisdom, outlook on life and his laughter. To sit across from him was magical. This man is a critical component as of why I stand today with rights designed to propel myself to greatness along with the next generation. After his talk, Mr. Young shook my hand and looked me in the eye. From that moment, I was convinced even more so going to California to tell my story would service so many young people especially to be motivated to stay safe and aware. Ironically, I was at the time, dealing with my private struggles.

"That's great Antron!" Said Corey, excited for my venture to the west coast. I was in the bathroom getting ready when Khafre Kuchijagulia Abif aka ChaCha buzzed my apartment staying another night to work on a few ventures including his memoir Raising Kazembe.

"ChiChi!"

"ChaCha!"

Our laughter cluttered the hallway echoing into my studio. Khafre shuts the door behind him and proceeds to the table relieved. I'd told him about L.A. as I began cooking us a meal. By the time I'd told him he was already planning the viewing party and assuring me everything would be taken cared of. Overjoyed, I found myself feeling accomplished.


July 2, 2014

I was packing up to leave at 6 a.m., Khafre in the bed while I was like a child during Christmas ... restless and wired. I check and double check and triple check everything I would need in Cali I had. Khafre wakes up and begins readying himself. From Civic Center Train station to Five Points, Khafre and I parted with hugs and love. I continued to the airport. The morning dawn greeted my view from the train window smiling to myself. Checking in wasn't the prettiest due to the line but I was at ease, I came two hours early to avoid missing the flight and to not fuel my own paranoia.

When I reached my concourse, the plane was just beginning to end boarding. I presented my ticket. The flight attendant is going over flying safety and procedures. A young girl sitting next to me adjacent from her family was petrified as I've been before, yet surprisingly, I was calm and reassured her we would be fine. I pull out my prayer beads chanting "nam myoho renge kyo" to myself to bring myself and others ease. The plane readies itself for lift off. As take off commences everything that ever bothered me no longer held ground. I felt a jolt of power for lifting ourselves off the ground and greeted the clear sky.

LOS ANGELES ... HERE I COME!



This article was provided by TheBody.com.

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Antron Reshaud

Antron Reshaud Olukayode

A glance into the world of a HIV Positive young African American artist navigating the Atlanta safari with love, sex and art. From the crazies to the serious, the life of award winning artist Antron Reshaud Olukayode is anything but dull.

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