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The Heat of the Night © 2011 • Designed by

Excerpt "A Taste of Georgia," by Ebonee Monique

... “Where are my panties?” I moaned loudly as I crawled naked on all fours around the foreign hotel room, like I was searching for a piece of gold.

I dug my fingers into the plush khaki-colored carpet and glanced around the room and caught a glimpse of myself in one of the mirrors that was hung over a maple table across the room. My hair, which had been curled to perfection the night before, now looked like someone had decided to substitute my head for a brillo pad and wash a ton of old dishes. I found some sort of sick comfort in knowing that, even though my head looked like a tattered pomeranian puppy, my make-up was still in tact. How my hair had taken the beating when I had endured a sweat-fest was beyond me. Shaking myself out of my daydream, I reminded myself that I was crawling on a hotel floor looking for gold.

I guess you could say I was, in fact, searching for gold; in the form of my gold lamè thong underwear, which had mysteriously decided to grow legs and disappear from the spot I’d thrown them in the night before. Isn’t it Murphy’s Law, though? Just when you need something, it’s never where it needs to be and when you don’t need it, it’s staring you in your face like “Here I am bitch.”

Inch by inch, I dug my knees deeper into the floor as I pushed myself forward, looking high and low as I inspected every part of the hotel room.

“I have to find them.” I whined to myself as I took a deep breath and plopped down near the foot of the bed.