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Xpress Yourself Publishing, February 11, 2009
ISBN-10: 0-9818094-1-3
ISBN-13: 978-0-9818094-1-0
5½ x 8½ inches
Trade Paperback
$14.95

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XYP AUTHORS

Allyson M. Deese

Baba Evans Moore

Bill Holmes

Chris Berman

Delorse A. Brown

Hazel Mills

Jessica Tilles

Kenda Bell

LaVerne Y. Adekunle

Linda R. Herman

Makenzi

Mia A. Moore

Michael J. Burt

Nathasha Brooks-Harris

Patricia A. Bridewell

Rekaya Gibson

Robin R Robinson

S.B. Redd

Sean XLG Mitchell

Stacey Covington-Lee

Tina Martin

Tinisha Nicole Johnson

Victoria Wells

Violette L. Reid

Versatility was one of author S.B. REDD'S strengths during his fifteen-year career in print journalism. Although he worked primarily as a sports reporter, he also wrote capably on topics like religion and politics as a free-lance writer for a national magazine.

"It used to be back in the dark and dingy days of smoke-filled newsrooms the sports reporter was regarded as your best and most versatile writer on the staff," he says. "We were the ones who brought the action before a reader's eyes. We were the ones whose jobs depended on meeting tight deadlines. I think out of jealousy, a stigma was affixed to our craft. I can't tell you how many times I was viewed as just a sports writer when I expressed an interest in non-sports writing jobs, although I had proven myself otherwise."

Mr. Redd's debut novel, Temptation.com, to be published by Xpress Yourself Publishing in 2009, is a scintillating work of erotica fiction that delves into online dating and sexual and online porn addictions.

"I think some people who have known me over the years may not be surprised that I would actually write a book; they may be more surprised with the genre," he says. "I'm not going to say writing erotica is the perfect fit for me. I will say that my print journalism background probably helped me with the ability to write with detail and putting the reader into certain scenes."

Mr. Redd had aspirations of becoming a sports journalist as a sixth grader. He worked on newspaper staffs in junior high school, high school and in college. Upon graduation from Texas Southern University, in his native Houston, he worked for more than a decade at daily newspapers in Texas, Florida, Virginia and South Carolina. He earned a reputation for delivering hard-hitting and cutting-edge news stories. In 1999, he was nationally recognized by the Associated Press Sports Editors for the best news story for all newspapers with a daily circulation of 50,001 to 150,000. 

He currently resides in Columbia, South Carolina, with his family. 

Visit S.B. online at  www.myspace.com/maverickbooks or www.maverick-books.com.

1

TheBlackNFreaky.com’s sex singles’ Internet site was Royale’s obsession. The confessions of trysts, first-time encounters, and swingers’ experiences were riveting. The Ebony Freaks Hangout chatroom was a popular place for socializing. But its main attraction for him was the plethora of women’s profiles in search of making sex connections.

Since the late 1990s, the site was a viable source for many of his liaisons because he hadn’t been one to frequent nightclubs or the other local hotspots where he lived in Short Pump, a burgeoning municipality in the northwest sector of Richmond, Virginia. A nice face, delicious set of breasts, or a succulent ass easily caught his attention. On other occasions he was lured by a provocative profile detailing a woman’s wildest sexual fantasies.

At forty-three, Royale, a divorcee, believed he still had what it took to meet these women’s desires. He boasted of a generous, full head of dark-brown hair that concealed his flecks of graying. His dark-mocha face still maintained a youthful and sculpted structure that hadn’t given way to overweight. He was reasonably tall (six feet) and athletic, weighing about one hundred and ninety pounds. He was confident in his sexual skills, and he wasn’t reticent about it.

Several of Royale’s recent raunchy romps from TheBlackNFreaky.com resulted in unfulfilling, one-and-done episodes. He promised himself that he would pursue only black women especially after his forgettable summer meeting with a married white lady named Tammy, who went by the handle of AutumnLustNVa.

She had expressed in her profile a craving for an interracial hook-up. Her husband of twenty-three years became exceedingly unappealing to her because he had no stamina in bed and he had not much else to speak of. She also claimed she was 5-8. The face picture that she e-mailed was of poor quality. When pressed for a more accurate description, she volunteered that she was a brunette with some graying. She had a set of thirty-eight C breasts and some junk in the trunk that she promised was worth his while.

After several phone calls and online chat sessions on Interzero.com, they eventually met at an Economaster Inn near RIC airport since she worked in nearby Varina, a suburb community of Richmond in northeastern Henrico County; reality set in for Royale in a cruel way.

Tammy showed up nearly forty-five minutes late driving a tan 1993 Ford Contour that had a cracked windshield and a Confederate flag tied to the rearview mirror. The white-walled tires appeared to be balding and the engine knocked. When she opened the door, it creaked worse than a body shop technician attempting to pull out a dent.

She appeared more like Wanda from the trailer parks near Petersburg just off I-95 with her long, frazzled brunette hair, wearing a denim blue blouse outside her polyester slacks. She was noticeably shorter, standing about 5-4. The thirty-eight C breasts appeared much larger, more like forty-four Ds, with wide, box-shaped hips and not much of an ass to appreciate.

He reluctantly invited her inside the 2002 black Pontiac Bonneville sport model he owned at the time for a brief conversation. His did this to convey to her that he was the person that he had described himself to be. She sensed he wasn’t as interested as he had expressed over the phone. She went as far as offering him a chance to back out of their planned encounter; however, he failed to keep his ego in check.

“No, I want to do this,” he told Tammy.

 He went ahead and paid $58 for the room. Inside, they shared additional small talk before removing their clothes. He recognized it took all of him to achieve an erection. He kissed her once as he joined her in the bed, but he didn’t perform any oral sex on her. He allowed her to briefly suck his manhood before he motioned that he would mount her. He proceeded to immerse himself inside what he sensed to be a rather tight and shallow pussy. Once he achieved a bit of a rhythm after penetration, he tried his best not to look into her face, which he also found unappealing. For that reason, he performed most of his obligatory fucking in the doggy position.

He conveyed no sincerity to her, nor any sensitivity. This wasn’t the way he normally treated women. Yet it surprised him, if not amused him, by the way she reacted to his less-than-perfunctory effort. It seemed to him that his erection at seventy-five percent had been more than what she had experienced most of her sex life, and perhaps it had been sufficient to prove her curiosity correct that black men just might have larger dicks than the white men she had been involved with.

He knew he hadn’t exercised better judgment by accommodating her request that he deposit his semen inside her not once, but he went on to do it a second time that afternoon. If anything, he knew he fell into the category of men he once derided who would fuck any woman if he got desperate enough.

 Afterward she implored of him, “Promise me you won’t just fade off into the sunset after we leave from here—”

He returned a startled reaction to her request.

“I’m saying that because I had a man once started crying, telling me that he was sorry for doing this because he realized it wasn’t the right thing to do being a Christian man,” she said. “I’m getting tired of meeting men that wind up fucking me once and then I never see them again.”

 Shit, he thought, that would be a lot to ask of a man. And I can see why they would do that with you!

Royale searched for a proper answer. “Don’t worry, you’ll hear from me again.”

“I hope so.”

Humph.

Keep dreaming, woman, he mumbled under his breath.

After they left the hotel room a couple of hours later, he vowed that he would never call her again. He went as far as deleting his e-mail address, blocking her number from his home number and changing his cellular phone number.