Valentine’s Day Quickie From the Editor: The creation of beautiful things has been a passion of mine that has been screaming for an outlet as of late. I love giving life and personality to our literary offerings through visual expression; mixing colors, pictures and words. Ensuring that they are perfectly placed to present the classiest and most arousing experience possible. So‌what better occasion to present something for everyone to enjoy than this annual celebration of
Love and Lovers?
We present to you a collection of sensual sweets, which can be used many times over to keep the flames hot in continual celebration of Love long past February.
All Things in Love, Melodi Roberts www.naughtyinkpress.com www.facebook.com/melodiwritesnip
Little Black Book’s Premier Edition What’s inside... V.I.P.?~ Melodi Roberts ~ Scents for the Season of Love ~ One Minute Until Valentine’s Day ~ India “Innocent” Norfleet Stolen Kisses and Diamonds ~ Keith Kareem William
Mood Music Perfected ~ Mr. Nice Guy Valentine’s Day Somethin’ Special ~ Red Snapper Red Mist ~ Kenya Nushen
Naughty Girl Spotlight ~ Cynthia Cartwright My Journals ~ D.V. Hent
V.I.P.?
~Melodi Roberts
“We gone do something different this year. C’mon, get dressed,” my BFF Samantha barked at me. “I just wanna stay home tonight,” I whined. “Dominic is gone call me later.” “No. We are not doin’ this Ayla. Your man—excuse me—fiancé is out of town making that money to pay for your expensive ass wedding. His job doesn’t care that it’s Valentine’s Day. It is what it is. Let him work. You’re coming out with me. I got a real nice, laid back place we can hang-out at for a few hours.” She grabbed the remote from my hand and clicked off the T.V. “Get ready, girl. No excuses.” “Can you guarantee you'll have me home before two a.m.? I told him that I might go out with your crazy ass. But I can't be comin' home at four in the mornin’, girl. You know he’s gonna call.” “What? Why? You think you missin' out on somethin' Y’all gonna fuck over the phone?” She chuckled, grabbing her leather jacket. “I have a little innocent fun planned for a few hours. It's low key, nice crowd. You'll like this place and I'll have you back home at a decent hour and outta trouble. Okay?” “Uh, decent for you is like six a.m.” “More like seven.” "Sam!" “"Okay! Don't be such a baby!” I rolled my eyes, heading for the bedroom door. “This better be worth it.” ****
The brisk Chicago night air hit my face vigorously as we scurried to the entrance of the obscure looking brick building on the west side of town. Samantha had never mentioned TLC's before, but the bouncer at the door seemed to know her—as somebody else. "Sexy Monique! Always a pleasure to see you and ya' girls." He gawked at her D’s as they sat taught in her black satin corset. "S'up, Charles. This is my friend, Tina. How is it in there tonight?" Charles took a quick look behind him. The ambient light scuttled around in the backdrop, barely making it to the club door.
"Good enough for you, baby girl. Enjoy yourselves." He stepped to the side, allowing us entry. I looked at Sam in disbelief. "Tina and Monique, huh?" I whispered. "What kind of place is this that you can't even be yourself?" "Shhh—relax, Tina. This is a place where you can be exactly who you wanna be..." Samantha's eyes wondered away, becoming fixated on a shirtless white man, his dark brown hair and beautiful gray eyes walking towards us, tray of Martinis in hand. She took two and slapped the guy on his ass as he walked away from us, never breaking his stride. "Uh—okay," I stuttered. "What did I miss? When did you officially become Miss Freak Nasty of Chicago?" "You have to be invited here—it's exclusive. You know how I am, girl. A few months ago, I came here with a friend of mine. He hosts parties occasionally." She could sense my apprehension as she handed me a glass. "Relax. These Martinis are pretty strong and they don't taste half-bad either." She sipped hers slowly, waving to a couple cuddling in the lounge on our left. "What is this music? Techno?" I downed the Martini in one long gulp. "C'mon. I'll show you around." We wandered through the dimly lit dance room, stopping briefly to watch drunken patrons grinding and groping each other to heavy beats and laser lighting. The D.J. switched up the music, and "Bottoms Up" blared out of the speakers. I was pulled onto the dance floor by ‘Mr. Big Shot’, a tall, stout brown-skinned man, his shirt partly open, tie undone. "C'mere sexy and dance with Big Papa," he said, drink in hand. Already a few drinks ahead of me, he wasted no time feeling me up, his hands redirected away from my ass and breasts every two seconds. We danced to a few reggae songs and his sweaty lips landed on my neck at least three times during Dawn Penn's 'You don't love me (No No No)'. I tried to dance away from him, but he pulled me back, grinding his warm bulge directly into my hips, trying desperately to stir my sleeping kitty. Finally giving in, I danced with him to the bar, where he bought Sam and me our next three shots of Patron. "I guess I could come back here Monique," I said, feeling my buzz start to settle in. "I told you—it's cool." She fanned herself with some bar napkins. "Now for my little Hollywood V-Day surprise," she said, standing up. We walked over to a corridor behind the bar, separated by a red velvet rope. "Hollywood, huh?" I could see champagne flutes, smoking cigars and hear low constant chatter as I peered into another dimly lit lounge area. "V.I.P. tonight, ladies?" A tall, sexy chocolate sista stood in front of the rope, blocking my view and holding a red tube of lipstick in her hand. She recognized Sam instantly. "Monique, hey! We missed you last week! I heard that you would be by tonight, so we reserved you a spot downstairs, second room on right. Have you ladies been stamped?" "No, not yet. I'm sure you can hook us up, Nina."
Scents For the Season of Love We sat down with Houston Native Donna Knox, owner and creative soul behind Paper Moon Candle Company to find out what’s burnin’ for Valentine’s Day.
LBB: What is the most sensual scent you've created and your motivation behind the creation? Donna: My most sensual scent is D'Mojo. I blended 7 essential oils that have been used for centuries as aphrodisiacs around the world to create D'Mojo. Each of the oils comes from a specific part of a plant, flower, root or bark that corresponds to male and female genitalia. For example, it's not just natural rose oil that I use, it's the oil from the bud of the rose. The energy of love that comes from the center. That same process rings true with the sandalwood oil, the ylang- ylang and every other oil that I select. Every drop is important and speaks to the natural scents drive another level.
sexual soul. These
the body to respond at
LBB: What is your most popular scent for the season? Donna: It is most definitely D'Mojo. It's now out selling all of my other scents. The quality of oils are so hard to find and so expensive when you find them that I make only a few candles per month. I use the scent blend and create bath salts, tarts, and oils with it as well so that you can layer and multiply
the sex in the air.
One Minute Until
Valentine’s Day ~India “Innocent” Norfleet
"Camille! What in the hell are you doing—the caramel goes on the inside of the brownie!" Arron yelled and shoved the glass bowl of caramel to the floor. "Arron what in the hell is your damn problem?" Camille screamed as shards of glass went flying all over the bakery floor. She jumped back. "You are Camille, can't you do anything right? You've been fucking up recipes for the last few days. You know how busy this time of year is for us—so either get your mind in the game or take your ass home and don't bother coming back." "Fine, I'll do the stuffed brownies over." Camille said as she rolled her eyes and reached across her work station for another mixing bowl. Arron could be a real prick this time of year. He was definitely not his sexy, charming self—the boss she could stand more often than not. "No, don't bother, just go and make the cake batter for the heart shaped cakes." " Fine. Asshole," Camille mumbled as she walked off toward kitchen pushing the stainless steel double doors open in her wake. "Camille, you're skating on thin ice." Arron yelled. "Screw you!" Camille shot back as she grabbed a mixing bowl from the bottom shelf of the dish rack.
Camille slammed a bag of flour down on the countertop and took a deep calming breath. She loved her job as pastry chef at The Chocolate Stick but her boss was another issue all together. Arron Green was a great head pastry chef— one the best—but every holiday season he becomes a short-tempered boss and could be pretty nasty. As of late, Arron had been riding Camille for no reason at all, making her stay after work later than all her other co- workers, piling a much harsher work load on her and changing recipes on her while in the middle of her prep work. And let's not forget the damn snapping at her every five minutes or so which was really driving her up the wall. Camille didn't know how much more of Arron's harassment she could take. She didn't want to quit because Arron did pay her quite handsomely. And she loves the bakery area, customers and staff. They were like family after only three years. Well everybody except Arron's rude ass. But Jesus why did he have to be so damn fine? Camille frowned and continued to gather her ingredients. He could be so charming when he wasn’t such a jack-ass… Deciding to let the matter go, Camille began making the batter and prepping for the heart shaped cakes for Valentine's Day tomorrow. Arron came busting through the kitchen doors yelling so loudly that he startled Camille and she spilled the batter onto the prep table, watching in horror as the large glass mixing bowl hit the floor. Arron was reaching for the storage door when he turned and witnessed the mess. "Reese, let me call you right back, one of my incompetent employees has just cost me a shit load of time and money." Arron ended the call and just stood here watching Camille scurry around, cleaning up the mess. "I'm so sorry Arron but you startled me." Camille said carefully picking up the big pieces of the glass bowl that shattered all over the marble floor. "I startled you?" "Yes you did, and I'm not incompetent Arron. It's called a mistake, and everyone makes them, including you." "Oh, really?" "Yes, really." "Well your mistake has just cost you overtime tomorrow." "Wait. It’s already after ten o’clock and I have Valentine’s Day plans tomorrow." "Then I guess it looks like you're going to have to reschedule, huh?" "But Arron I—”
Stolen Kisses & Diamonds ~Keith Kareem Williams As Giselle relaxed on the metal steps behind the store, the smoke from her cigarette helped to dull the stench from the restaurant next door's dumpster, but only slightly. Because of the city and its smoking rules she couldn't even light up in front of her own place of business. Things had been surprisingly slow at her boutique which was unusual for Valentine's season. The economy must have been worse than she thought if so few men had showed up to buy gifts for their significant others and if that was the case, even the mistresses of the world must have really had things hard. She decided that if things didn't pick up she would give Maxine the rest of the day off because she really wouldn't need the extra help. Now there's a man with the Valentine's Day spirit, she thought as she saw him walking down the back street with a bouquet of flowers in hand and a box of chocolates tucked under his arm. She gasped as he raised the lid of the restaurant's green dumpster and tossed everything in with the stinking, rotting leftovers. "What's the matter? She doesn't like candy and flowers?" Giselle asked. He seemed slightly startled when he heard her voice. He hadn't even noticed her sitting there. She wasn't used to men no noticing her, especially not from only five or six feet away. "She tasted like cigarettes. Three nights in a row she tasted like cigarettes when I kissed her," he answered, looking like a lost puppy. To see such a handsome man so sad seemed tragic, especially on a day reserved for happy lovers. What's gotten into Cupid today? "So you're throwing away her Valentine's Day gifts? Wow, that's harsh. Smokers get no love in this city anymore. We can't smoke indoors, there are no more smoking sections in bars or restaurants and we can't even smoke in front of public places anymore. I guess I should put mine out then too, huh?" "She doesn't smoke."
"She doesn't smoke? So how come she tasted like cigarettes?" Giselle dropped hers to the ground and extinguished its feeble flame with the heel of her designer shoe. "I kissed her and she tasted like cigarette smoke. When I asked her she said that one of her co-workers always smoked when they went to lunch. That's how she explained it when I asked." "Ok, there you have it. So, why are you throwing away that stuff away?" "I meant to give her this," he answered and took a small pink box out of the pocket of his faded, blue workpants. He flipped open the lid and inside was a diamond ring. "Wow, that's nice. Come closer and let me see it." She couldn't help but smile when he handed it over. It was a humble thing and by no means the most expensive ring. Giselle was certain that even her earrings or any other trinket her own boyfriend had given her was worth at least ten times more but money had never been an issue with John. The condition of this distraught and forlorn man's work clothes suggested that he was not a man of wealth. She could only imagine how much of a financial strain the purchase of such a thing had been on him. "Keep it," he told Giselle. He had really meant to dump it along with the flowers and the candy but couldn't bring himself to do it. He preferred to give it away. It seemed too sinful to cast such a pretty, precious thing away in a dumpster full of filth. "You planned on throwing this away too huh? Why?" "I saw her get out of his car. I meant to surprise her at her job. She got out of his car and he drove past me, smoking with the windows down in his fancy car. She didn’t see me so I turned around and left. "Yikes, you sir are definitely having a bad day. I wouldn't feel right keeping this though." "Give it away, pawn it, or throw it down a drain. I should have. I don't care really care what you do with it." "I couldn't. I'm sure you worked really hard to pay for it." "It took me two years. Doesn't matter now though." "I tell you what, this is my boutique. Come inside and pick out something. I'll trade you for it." "That's ok. I need to go."
"Where are you going? You just found out that your woman is probably cheating on you. You could only be going off to get nice and drunk, or cry, or maybe a little bit of both. You men should learn from us women. When things are going all wrong, nothing makes you feel better than shopping. You'll be my first and best customer for the day. I'm Giselle by the way. Come inside," she said, wrapping her arm up with his. She led him up the metal stairs and through the back entrance. "I'm Ross." *** "Wow, where'd you find this cutie?" Maxine asked, twirling a lock of her long black hair as she leaned on the counter beside the cash register. "Out back with the alley cats," Giselle joked. "Hmm, he does look like he knows his way around a pussy," Maxine answered and winked at Ross. "Hush! Your mouth is so filthy," Giselle scolded and playfully slapped her on the hand. "You have no idea," Maxine answered, licking her lips with her eyes still glued to Ross. "You're such a flirt. Any customers since I left?" "Not one." "Well, I don't anticipate business picking up so you can take the rest of the day off. It's slow so I should be able to handle it." "Uhum, I bet," Maxine answered, picking up her purse and slipping on her jacket. "Be good…or be good at it," she told Giselle on her way out of the front door of the store. "This is nice," Ross said once they were alone. He was impressed by the decor. He couldn't afford the majority of the clothes judging by the price tags but he was sure that Giselle's boutique was a place frequented by the hipsters and fashionistas. "Thanks. The interior design was all my own vision but my boyfriend paid for everything." "Good man." "Why? Because he has money?" "Of course. Seems like he looks out for you." "That's easy when you got it and he has plenty." "Most women want a man that can do nice things for her," he answered. Thoughts of the expensive car he had seen his girlfriend in earlier made him feel small and insignificant. He always worked hard and did what he could for his girlfriend but in the end, it hadn't been enough he supposed.
"Most women? Are you calling me average, sir? I'll have you know that I take great pride in being exceptional exceptional." ." "No, well, I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying."
Valentine’s Day Somethin’ Special! ~RED SNAPPER
“I want something really special for Valentine’s Day...” LaChelle said to her husband, William. “Such as?” “A fantasy fulfilled.” “Well, what fantasy can I help make a reality?” “I want you and another man.” She turned to face him, studying his eyes. “I want to suck his sex, while you watch me. When you get so hard that you can’t stand it, I want you to fuck me.” “Your mouth was made to suck dick. I’d love to fuck you while you gave some lucky dude the most fantastic blow job of his life. How would you like to do this, baby?” “I really don’t know. I thought we could go to a club and pick up a sexy stranger,” she said, running her slender fingers up his arm. “So…some lucky ass stranger gets to stick his rod into that mouth of yours? If I wasn’t your freaky ass husband, I’d be so fucking upset,” William retorted with a huge laugh. “Thursday is Valentine’s night, so we’ll go to a club in Westport. I’ll pick out a guy, and you can talk him into what we want. I know, I know, your dick is hard already. Let me take care of that for you, Billy.” She knelt in front of her husband and slipped her mouth around William’s huge dick, teasing the tip with her tongue. LaChelle wasn’t a prude, but her Valentine’s Day request was the freakiest of any of her fantasies. William would mention how sexy it would be to have a woman that could handle two men and even spoke about watching her suck another man’s dick on a couple occasions. William was comfortable in knowing that his wife loved him and only him and that they could get freaky with the best of them, but this request topped them all. Would she be willing to just let go and be the complete whore he fantasized about? Valentine’s Day arrived and LaChelle awakened to the wonderful aroma of breakfast. She grabbed her robe to cover her naked body and entered the kitchen to find a huge bouquet of exotic flowers on the table.
“Good morning baby. Today’s the day your every wish will come true.” William said with a huge smile before feeding her breakfast. ***
In the shower, she pampered herself. She shaved everywhere, wanting her pussy to be smooth and totally soft for the fucking she wanted to receive that night. Afterward, she carefully selected her outfit and lingerie, choosing a tight fitting purple bustier and a pair of crotchless purple panties under a short, tight, black leather skirt. She finished her look off with dark purple fishnets and a pair of purple 3-inch heels. “Damn girl, you gone look sexy as hell tonight,” she whispered to herself. The thought of what she would do tonight—and in front of her husband...she was getting hot just thinking about it. Letting her towel fall to the floor, she slid onto on the bed for just a moment, ready to give her clit a quick rub. Just as she nestled her manicured fingernail in between her lips, William walked into the room and stood there smiling and watching as she stroked herself. “My little freak is getting horny,” he whispered. “I am baby…Don’t you want to give my pussy a quick fix before we leave?” She looked at him, licking her fingers. “Naw…I’m gonna wait for tonight. Don’t worry baby. It’ll be worth it,” he said. His dick was fighting for release through his boxers and he turned and left her in the bedroom to get ready. Later that night in Westport, they had a very adoring dinner, giddy with anticipation of tonight’s plans. “So you are really gonna do this, babe?” William asked during dessert. “When we find the right man...my love. It’s on.” She stared her husband down, never breaking her gaze. She was serious about tonight. She was ready to let the freak out. Afterwards, they moved their bags into the hotel suite and showered together, torturing themselves by not touching each other while lathering up. LaChelle stepped into her 3-inch heels, licked her lips while checking herself in the hotel mirror by the door. She made sure her bustier was perfect, hugging her breasts so tightly they were heart-shaped. Her shirt was short enough to show off her perfectly round ass and the fishnets screamed ‘slut’...like they were meant to. She blew herself a kiss in the mirror and then they headed out the door. They frequented several clubs, but there wasn’t too much happening for a weeknight. They were about to give up and call it a night, but they saw the lights at club Retro flickering quickly, with lights pouring through the creases in the front entrance door and decided to stop through.
Red Mist ~Kenya Nǚshén There were actually falling hearts and stars, cheesy—but somehow nice on this day and at an event like this. It was in the form of shiny confetti and everyone was walking around glittering red and gold. I walked cautiously through the festivities, a Medieval-themed Carnival of Love in the small town’s park—full of full grown foliage. I could see lovers holding hands, playing games and kissing each other senseless. I was in the midst of a bright, happy, whirling dervish of emotion. But why was I here? This carnival was clearly for couples. Perhaps it was the bright lights and music that drew me near. Having been a single man for two years now, this garish display of love should’ve have me puking glitter but I almost found it comforting. It gave me some paltry sense hope. I got into the spirit and played a few games, rode a ride that didn’t require a partner and ate a sloppy funnel cake. As I walked past a fun mirror on my way toward the dark fortune tent, I stopped. I was five-eight, a hundred and sixty two pounds of slightly out of shape, balding in the back, man meat. I sighed, adjusted my glasses and continued. I could see the tent near the edge of the forest. The tent flap was closed but warm light could be seen around the edges. I was curious. Could it be that I could get my future predicted there? Maybe I can find out when I will again find love? For some inexplicable reason, my footsteps began to slow. I felt like I was moving against a strong current. Was it a strange energy sailing against me? Suddenly, feeling oddly exposed, I felt the need to hide. There was a thick tree close by and I dashed behind it. Just as I gained cover, the tent flap began to shake, then was thrown back with such force that it remained against the tent as if glued. At first the opening remained empty but I could see some of the innards. There was a sinister looking pot belly stove in its center with flames flickering behind the knight’s helmet-like grill. Contrary to its malicious demeanor were the two sumptuous red chairs I could see and the heavy blend of purple and gold fabrics. I could also see sensuous coiling tendrils of incense smoke, a hint of crystal and hear haunting musical sounds with tinkling bells. Though I was pulling in shallow air the strong scent of ginger and nutmeg reached around the bark and grabbed my senses by the balls. My manhood roused. I ventured another look and saw first, a beautiful bare foot, then a curved calf under a hem of red.
Little Black Book’s ‘Naughty Girl’
Cynthia Cartwright
~Comfortable with living life in your own skin~
LBB: Where are you from originally? How did you end up in Houston, TX?
I am originally from Louisiana. I came to Houston in the early 2000’s to better provide for my family. Tell us a little bit about yourself? Career? Mother?
I am currently a single parent. I have a great family and children who support me emotionally. I couldn’t do what I do without them. I’d rather not say what my profession is, but the opportunity in Houston was the best choice because of the pay and opportunity for growth in my career field.
Since you're not in this professionally, what/who made you want to dabble in modeling as a hobby?
I met two ladies up North who stopped me in the mall and asked me if I had ever modeled and from there I did a few fashion shows. I let it all go to start a family. How do you juggle it all and still look as great as you do? Even though I have a full schedule with work and school, I try to find time to explore personal fantasies like different looks. But I try to be as natural as possible.
My Journals ~ D.V. Hent (1/15/12)
Dear Journal, Monica broke up with me. At first it was some shit about us going to different schools, but when she finally told the truth, she had slept with someone! What the fuck? We were practically engaged or so I thought! To add more salt, it was a goddamn basketball player—the biggest assholes in the world! She even cooed at the size of his dick to me like I was her goddamn girlfriend! Was she serious? When I told her I wanted to remain friends, it was so when he dumped her I could get the pussy I’d committed the last five years of my life to! The only reason she told me: she was pregnant when I went down on her for New Years’ and she has chlamydia. I knew he was a loser. What a fucking great present for the New Year. (2/7/12) Dear Journal, It’s a week from Valentine’s Day and I’m still single…still a virgin. Who the hell comes to college a virgin anyway? Am I the only twenty-year old black guy on Earth who hasn’t gotten laid? I had a chance two years back with Lindsay, but Monica screwed that up. Fucking cheater who cock-blocks, the story of my life. My most recent and ultimately most depressing failure happened with Lisa—the chubby white chick my roommate said gives everyone at least a hand job. Guess what? Fail! Don’t wanna talk about. (2/10/12) Dear Journal, Goddamit! That fucking whore Lisa told everyone I came in my pants! Horrible bitch! Hope there’s a place in Hell for bitches like her! You know she said she wouldn’t tell! Now I’m the fucking campus joke! Fuck her. Fuck this school! Can’t wait til the semester is over! Can’t stand them calling me Dark Creamer!
(2/14/12) Dear Journal, Professor Stephens, the one who looks eerily similar to Gabrielle Union, sent me an email asking me to meet her on her office in a few minutes. Class ended three hours ago. Don’t know what this is about. Stay tuned… “Maybe she wants to rape you, ‘Dark Creamer’” my roommate Derek laughed from behind my left shoulder, causing me to cover my screen. Even though he’d seen everything, it was a reflex whenever he was around. “Let’s be honest Mike, after that whole thing with Lisa, you could be classified as a case study.” I hadn’t heard him come in and I despised when people looked over my shoulder, especially him. “You’re an asshole. Stop reading over my shoulder, jerk.” He shrugged and turned on the TV to watch ESPN and there went my silence. I typed four more words in my journal before turning my computer off: …and Derek’s an asshole. I didn’t get college. In my eyes, I was better looking than Derek and even though he wasn’t the coolest guy in school, he always had a new piece of ass every month. With just enough time to get to the Professor’s office on the other side of the campus, I grabbed a sweater and headed out. *** (2/14/12) cont’d… Holy Shit Journal, You won’t fucking believe what happened to me! Hell, I don’t believe it, but as I close my eyes, I can still smell her on my clothes—even through my pants! Damn if I don’t fucking jack-off to this later on tonight! If I’m going to remember this day, I might as well do it right! Start it right from the fucking beginning! Okay, gonna try and do this story justice so it can go down in my memoirs.
A Naughty Ink Press Publication Š All rights reserved
.
Each contributor’s work is copy written by that author and all rights reserved. Any replication, duplication of the creative property within this publication is strictly prohibited without full written consent of the author(s). All literary material is a work of fiction and any coincidences to any event, person, place is strictly coincidental.