Imani Wisdom's brainchild -- Pink Noire Publications -- has been known for her unpredictable style of storytelling. Now its founder is expanding the "pink and black" brand to shine on prolific artists. From the inspirationalist, Danica Worthy to bestselling author, Stacy Deanne, Pink Noire understand these talented individuals know how to express their craft through words, song, dance, and stroke of a brush.

Showing posts with label erotic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label erotic. Show all posts
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THE BLACKER THE BETTER, THE SWEETER...YES, DEFINITELY!




PHASE FIVE: MOCHA BREEZE


Rain droplets dance against the window as he wraps my eyes with a pink blindfold. Engross with darkness, he’s taken me by the hand to a mysterious subtle breeze.  I can feel him guiding me carefully among the outdoor shower.  Tepid water dances on my naked body.  Then the touch of his lips rejuvenates my inner slumber.  I’m caressing his dampen stubble, following by a deep and rich kiss.  He’s lifting me against his destiny, thrusting his ego inside my Venetian dream.  I’m proudly in his arms with his hips moving like a ferocious earthquake. Swaying like a wondrous dream, my blindfold slips off and notices curious eyes on me.  She’s peering through her curtains with her gray tresses.  I close my eyes not because our escapade is now a prying exhibition. It’s just his ego is getting me high. The motion of his physique pounds my heart. There are no words at the moment, only a harmony of breathless passion.  My peripheral catches her again while I’m sinking my nails into his skin.  He bows to nourish my mammary pillows, tasting the Alpha of life.  Panting breathlessly, I’m looking her way again and she’s clinching firm to the corner of her curtain.  Maybe she wishes he can turn her back in time.  But for now my Mocha Breeze is MINE!  As his hips propels deeper into my walls, he grabs my jaws to give me a quick glance and smiles.  I reciprocate the feeling by biting his lips.  Then Mount Breezy erupts as the rain showers on our naked bodies.  Erotic sounds echoes beyond the heavenly thunder.  And now I’m complete,mutual satisfaction.  I glance at the woman and place a single finger to my lips and mouth carefully, “Don’t tell my husband this!”

THE END

©2011, Imani Wisdom




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When Size Doesn't Matter, Even if They're Excerpts


Cedric released several groans in between heavy breathing. He liked my curious tongue. I pumped the shaft of his cock with my mouth as my tongue licked the tip. I lived to play tongue games with a stiff dick. 

"OH FUCK AAH AAAAAH" he grunted. I kept swallowing not wanting to waste a drop of the creamy liquid that coated my throat. I didn’t release him until his uber sensitive dick was milked dry. My feast came to an end as I let his wet dick drop out of my mouth grazing my chin leaving a pearly sparkle.




Download Your Copy Today


Kisha Green is no stranger to the literary world. She is the owner of DivaBooksInc., the author of several titles including the hit novel, And Even If I Did and a literary consultant and promoter. 

As the host of Writer’s Life Chats, an online radio show, Green interviews aspiring and seasoned authors. Writer’s Life Chats has been nominated multiple times for Best Blog Talk Show, winning the title in 2010 and 2011 .Green is also a avid reader and book reviewer whose reviews have appeared on Urban Book Source, Shelfari, Goodreads, Amazon and other notable sites. 

As a firm believer in “each one, teach one,” Green launched Literary Jewels, in 2011, an online resource for aspiring writers interested in self-publishing. Green has also participated in numerous panel discussions on the topic of publishing. 

Currently Green is a contributing writer for for a number of sites, including Becoming A Successful Author. 

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Little Black Book From Melodi



"Absolutely. Where do you want it?" she asked me, applying the cherry red lip-stick flawlessly to her full lips, puckering them. I presented the back of my hand to her.

She glanced at Sam, giggling. Nina grabbed my hand, pulling me toward her and planted a kiss on my right shoulder. As she released me, I looked down at my stamp, admiring the perfect shape of her lips.

Cute.

Sam had already chosen her spot, rolling her head back and waiting. I watched as Nina place her red signature on Sam's neck. Her sensuous mouth lingered there, her tongue playing on Sam briefly before re-leasing her.

I grabbed Sam for balance, my body unsteady from the alcohol, and closely inspected her stamp. "On the front of your neck, freak?"

"Well, how would you see it if she kissed me on the lips?"

"Which ones?" I asked sarcastically.

Her eyes lit up. "Now that you asked…"

She turned away from me, headed back to Nina. I shook my head, grabbing her hand and pulled her past the velvet rope. After a few steps, we were mingling amongst the sexy couples in the V.I.P. lounge, many of them wearing Nina's cherry kisses—now a pink fluorescent color under the black lights.

I stared in awe at how many pairs of lips glowed in the darkness. Some on the nape's of necks, others on breasts while some sat curiously high on a thigh or two.

Sam came up behind me, her breath hot on my neck and handed me a small shot glass.

"Here, it's their signature, 'Fuck Me Crazy'. Try it with me." Looking at the red shot glass, I drank it quickly, squirming as it slid down hot, my throat on fire.

"Damn!"

"I know, I told you! Fucks you crazy!" She laughed. "Go through the last door and down the stairs, the third little cubbyhole on the right is reserved for us—I'll meet you down there. I gotta pay this bar tab."

I watched as Nina placed her red signature on Sam's neck. Her sensuous mouth lingered there, her tongue playing on Sam briefly before releasing her.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, the lighting and mood were instantly recognizable. Mellow R&B. Scented candles and soft sensual moans…

Wait a minute. Third room on right? Second? Shit, I can't remember…

I tried to focus my blurry vision on the narrow corridor, with small rooms along both sides. This place was staged perfectly for sex and secrets. Dim lighting and beautiful red satin curtains served as the most colorful doors I had ever seen.

Ignoring my urge to run back up the stairs and curse Sam out for sending me down here drunk and confused, I gave in to my curiosity, following the sounds of feminine curses.

 Treading softly, I approached the second room on my right—the red curtains pulled to one side.
There are people in here already…This can't be it…can it?

Peeking inside the candlelit room, there was a beautiful mocha mistress, her slender frame perched on the edge of a red chaise lounge. She smiled at me—saying nothing before rolling her eyes up and cooing softly.

The dark chocolate man with her could only be half seen from behind as he settled on all fours wrapping her long legs around his neck.

I continued to watch as the licking and sucking began, her soft coos becoming louder—a panting, raspy staccato. She grabbed one of her breasts, squeezing her nipple and rocking her pelvis to the rhythm of his tongue, the candlelight dancing with them.

I was speechless, standing motionless in the doorway, fixated on this beautiful, passionate display of all that I had sacrificed at home—in exile, awaiting my wedding day….

Fuckin' Samantha! I can't believe she brought me down here!

As my nipples grew underneath my halter-top, the thin material did nothing to hide them. I shivered as I tried using my fingers, but my breasts were too sensitive to touch. My body was tingling now with erotic energy and I had no way to turn it off.

Walk away, before she sees you still standing here!

I couldn't. Hypnotized and hungry, my eyes remained locked on them, my legs stuck in place by imaginary quick sand.

The mystery woman opened her eyes, grinning as she found me still there watching. She never uttered a word as she invited me in, commanding me with just a simple whisk of her index finger.

Without hesitation, I stepped forward, disappearing behind the red satin and completely facing her—standing in the lion's den.

Moving with the grace of a dancer, she unwrapped herself from her lover and stood in front of me.
"Greg, get up. We have company."

He stood up, looking as fine from in front, as he did from behind, his beautiful hairless chest muscles bouncing the flickers of candlelight off of them. He was completely naked as well, his dick nudging my side as he stood next to his mistress.

"You're a beautiful woman," the mistress said to me. She glanced down at my three-carat diamond rock, which also bounced candlelight off of it. "You married?"

"No—not yet," I mumbled.

She stepped closer to me, quickly diverting her attention to Nina's lips. "V.I.P.?" she chirped, while Greg fingered my stamp, his eyes slowly outlining my slender curves.

His mistress stepped so close to me that our lips almost touched.

"So—you like to watch? Or are you expecting V.I.P. treatment?"

I'm just here with a friend... I opened my mouth, but the words never escaped.

She pressed her slender finger against my lips. "I know what you want." She placed her hand in between my thighs, sliding her fingers inside my panties. I inhaled deeply, trembling. Greg stepped up behind me, his dick poking me in my back, and quickly unfastened my bra, pulling the top over my head. He started to massage my breasts, kneading them between his fingers.

"Mmmmm….." I closed my eyes, defeated, giving in to him—to her.



My body had spoken...







Underestimated is the first word that comes to mind when I hear the name Melodi Roberts.

This author, editor, and creative genius stormed the literary scene with works: If You Don't Tell, and the "cherry-popping" tales, Untapped, just to name a few. Roberts unforgiving approach to express Black sensuality is a mere art-form -- you won't find blatant, glorified pornography in the confines of her work.

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Dreamwalker





Lips were suddenly on my neck; that spot on my neck where my pulse could be felt the strongest. The spot that a mate was drawn to by some invisible force that begged him to mark me as his own. I whimpered as I felt his tongue dash out, licking the spot in preparation for the initial bite all the while our bodies were still connected. Finally, my mate was here, the other half of my soul. He pounded inside me, stroking the flames of my inner inferno. His size stretched me, claimed me, demanded pleasure that I wasn't sure I could provide but was helpless to deny. Higher and higher the flames grew. Harder and faster he went. My legs instantly wrapped around his waist. My heels dug into his buttocks, my arms grabbed on to his. Sweat rolled down my body leaving a trail between my breasts, across my stomach, and past my navel until it disappeared between my legs. I felt my inner muscles clamp down; shrinking as if the tightness was trying to hold him into me forever. My canines elongated. The hands I had used to pull him close shifted into claws. My control was gone. Finally my wolf could truly run free. I smiled realizing that he too had started a half shift lost in the sensations. My climax was so close I could taste its sweetness and just like that I woke up.

This was so completely frustrating. As a wolf shifter, I should completely understand what was going on with me. After all, I had been dreaming of my life’s mate for the past six years. It was normal to first meet in a dream. What wasn't normal was that in the six years I have been dreaming of him, I wasn't one step closer to finding out who he was. I went to the elders, begged for advice but the reply was always the same: when the time was right, our physical selves would catch up with our spiritual. The problem with that was I was in heat and being unmated and in heat spelled disaster in every language I knew. The thought of living through a week of constant arousal alone made me want to cry. However, the mere thought of a substitution other than my mate made me sick. Once mated, the touch of another male would have negative effects on my health. Until I was mated, however, I was free to wolf around with whoever I saw fit. Unfortunately, no one told my wolf that. Ever since she scented her mate, dream world or not, no one else caught her attention. This was becoming one long week and it had just begun. When we met in my dreams tonight, I was going to take matters into my own hands.

I can't believe I did it. For the past six years I was always awoken in my dreams to my mate thrusting inside me. If there had been foreplay prior to that throbbing sensation, my mind must have closed it out, only revealing the exact moment where our bodies became one. Tonight was different though. Tonight, I searched for him and found him asleep not quite yet prepared to journey into my mind. Slowly, I lowered myself next to him, kissing from him neck to earlobe. I nipped lightly but firmly enough to cause a reaction. His body began to awaken even as his mind had yet to awaken for me. Firmly, I grabbed hold of his shaft and began to stroke up and down, amazed at how quickly it went from soft to steel. In my previous dreams, passionate, yet brief, I never had the chance to explore him so I took the time to visually explore every inch of his body. In my fascination, I didn’t even realize that he had awakened and was staring at me both confused and pleased at the same time. Just when I was leaning in to taste him, he whispered a moan that caused me to momentarily stop in my tracks. I recovered quickly, smiling like a child who was just caught trying to sneak a sweet treat before dinner. He rolled on top of me and kissed me. A kiss that turned the power off in my brain while increasing the senses directly connected to my core. I felt the liquid pool between my legs until it had no choice but to flow down. An arousal I felt sure he could smell. After all, I was counting on it. I needed him to understand the urgency of finding me. I needed him. My body craved him to fill the void that only a mate could. Releasing my mouth he latched on to a nipple, sucking it so hard it sent a shock to my clitorus making me squirm. Not one to ignore, he used one hand to tweak my other nipple while using his other hand to pinch and pull my aroused button. I'd cum like this with him before so I wasn't afraid I would miss my chance if I gave in to the orgasm rushing towards me. I cried out as he slipped two fingers inside me, caressing a spot I had yet to find on my own and sent me flying over the edge. When I regained the ability to think, he was already inside me exacting slow, lazy strokes. The time came to confess my need, while he was distracted by our passion but not yet overwhelmed. "I need you mate." I whispered. We had spoken before but it was always with the purpose of heightening the moment. "Need? Hard (he thrust harder), fast (he thrust faster). Tell me mate. Ask and you shall have." Well, since he put it that way. "I need you to find me," and at the moment I pressed my fingers on my sweetness hurrying me to a climax that snatched me from my dream world. I awoke sexually frustrated but satisfied that I had done what I needed to convince him that whatever the reason he stayed away, the time had passed and I needed him.

Two days later and my heat was in full effect. I locked myself away. Even the air made my skin sizzle. I needed to cum so bad I almost said to hell with a mate and walked outside to let my scent send all the available males in a five mile radius to my door. The thing about wolves is when a female goes into heat it’s like a drug you’ve been addicted to all your life being dangled in front of you. Thankfully, we only go into heat once every three years. I was so consumed with the need for release that I didn’t care it wasn't with my mate, during my first heat. Since then, my wolf felt cheated out of the forever bond that mating created. This was the reason I endured being in physical pain; she wouldn't allow me to lose myself unless my mate was there to find me.

I couldn't sleep so I hadn't seen him since the night I asked him to find me. My wolf clawed at me needing to be set free as much as my human side. I didn't remember my last heat being this intense. I felt my skin tightening around my bones, discomfort everywhere not just my core. And then the scent hit me. A male was near. Not just any male but MY male. So close that my thick arousal suddenly went into overdrive as if sending out a signal for him to find me. I rushed to the door removing the barrier that kept my scent from alerting the pack of my condition. As soon as the lock was off and the door was open I was in his arms. His mouth crushed mine and a taste that was familiar and new greeted me. I was fully naked as clothes made no sense when nothing could touch me without making me weak with need. I wrapped my arms around his neck drawing him closer to me. He grabbed my legs lifting me up rubbing me against his groin in the process. Spinning me around and backing me up against the door he released me long enough to shed his clothes. Again our mouths connected, his hands roamed my body. We would have time to explore later but I needed him inside me now. I exposed my neck to him the same time he pushed inside my already drenched center. Finally we were together, and this time when he sank his teeth into my neck and his hardness into my core, I reached the stars and when I came down my mate was there. Joined with me forever and ready to enjoy our first in an eternity of heat spells together.


©2014, Priscilla Danita Robinson 


Priscilla D Robinson is the Author of Love's Moodswings: The Discovery, the Choice, and the Surrender to Love. Her debut book is a collection of three short stories that focus on different forms of love. Recently she began the task of writing down what her mind showed her and thus began her writing journey. When she is not off in a dream world she lives in Connecticut with her daughter. Robinson is currently a student at the University of Bridgeport for a bachelor's degree in Human Service. Her favorite saying is “the sky is always purple somewhere in the world” which means anything is possible if you know where to look for it.

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Business Affairs: Project F.W.B.



By Melodi Roberts

    “You've been ignoring me, Dionne.” She stood her caramel, curvaceous frame in my office, whispering softly behind my right ear while I gathered paperwork for a meeting on the huge project bid we'd won. We were collaborating on it.
     I forced out a nervous chuckle. “Whatever. You ask questions and I answer them.”
   “Well answer me this. What's the risk in becoming a little bit closer as friends? I think I might've stroked up a little curiosity about it, right?” She kissed the nape of my neck.
  “Let's talk about all this later, Chris.”
  “Fine, then. Tonight. We'll—talk about it over drinks. Derek's doing some fantasy football thing at the bar. Come over later, okay?”
   I opened my mouth to respond, but my assistant called and rushed us to the conference room.

   I wasn't sure what I would have said to her. And now, as I looked down at my cell phone, I really didn't know if I could just go over and “have drinks” at her place. It felt like
a setup.
   Admittedly, the thought of another woman—pursuing me, as a close guy friend would during an obvious attraction, was kinda hot.
   Obvious attraction. Is that what this was?
   My phone buzzed at me. I flipped it over.
   “No worries. We'll do dinner tomorrow. Couples night.
   “Cool!” I responded, relieved. I set the tone to silent, and headed out to the great room for Netflix night with my man.

   “Surprise!!”

    I was blown away as Sean and I entered the private party room of Blue Stream, my favorite seafood restaurant. Chris had apparently planned the “bigger celebration” we talked about last week as a surprise. Ten of my closest friends and my five staff members had shown up to celebrate the huge contract bid I'd won.
  “Guys! Wow! Thanks so much!”
Chris walked up to me, beaming in a short, black cocktail dress. I told her that her short haircut made her look like a 5’9” Nia Long. “You deserve every second. You're my girl, Di. I had to hook it up for you.”“Did Sean—” I turned and looked at my husband. “Did you know about this?”
   “I plead the fifth.” He kissed me, his full lips hugging mine. “But what I will say is that it's time to eat. I waited all day for this.”
   “You heard the man,” Derek said. “Let's eat.”

   Almost two hours later, it was approaching ten o'clock and we had cracked the second bottle of red wine open, contemplating on dessert as people started to head home.
   “I'm stuffed,” Chris said, pushing away her plate. “And this wine is running through me.”
    I nodded in agreement, my insides warm from drinking two full glasses. I blinked hard, trying to stop the room from tilting.
   “You guys get ready to go. We'll take care of the bill,” Derek said, standing.
  “C'mon,” Christina started, grabbing my arm. We entered the restroom and I stood in front of the mirror, looking through my purse for something to freshen up my face with.
   “Girl, give it a rest. You're absolutely perfect,” Chris said. About three inches taller, she stood behind me and placed her arm on my shoulder—the other around my waist. We glanced at each other through the mirror's reflection.
   “I can see how uncomfortable this makes you, but—I don't know. This connection we have was obvious from the beginning.” She searched my face in the mirror, looking for a reaction.
Unsatisfied, she turned me around to face her, and I stepped back, leaning up against the wall. After glancing at the bathroom door for possible intruders, she stepped toward me, standing only inches away from my face.
   “Since all you can do is play the victim and answer my questions,” she started, mocking me, “why haven't you stopped me yet, Di?”
    I glanced up at the ceiling, then at the floor, stalling. “Maybe—maybe some things aren't meant to—”
   “Meant to what?” She grabbed the strap on my red one-shoulder halter and yanked it down, partially exposing my breast. Then she dug her hand into my bra and pulled my nipple out of it, sucking it quickly, but gently. My panties were soaked in an instant. I
inhaled, closing my eyes.
   “Meant to feel good? Like that?” She lifted my skirt, using her finger to outline the triangle of my black thongs, but never ventured inside. My hips jerked backward and I grabbed her wrist, stopping her.
    She smiled, licking her lips. “Ok, Di. I'll leave you alone.” She stepped back, allowing me put myself back together. “You know what? It's really not fair for me to keep teasing you.” She chuckled. “I pushed your limits a little and you pushed me back. I'm not goin' to make this anymore awkward for us than it is already. But at least you know how I feel—about us. So, we can leave it here, in the ladies' room, and I won't ask you about this again. That cool?”
Relieved, I hugged her. “Thanks.” I released my grasp and we stood face to face.
   “So can I have one for the road?”
   “Have one what?”
     She leaned forward to kiss me and this time I welcomed it, my intensity growing to match hers. My kitty throbbed, begging for attention as I held on to her by the neck. Our bodies seemed welded together as we sprinkled kisses all over each other.
    The flicker of curiosity I had, only a week old, was now a raging fire. I wanted to know how she felt, her skin to mine. I was willing to let her fingers explore me. I slid my tongue into her mouth and she received it, grabbing my waist and pulling me even closer to her.
    I felt Chris's fingers walking up my thigh again, and this time I pushed my hip toward her in anticipation. The wall held us up as we remained wrapped in one another, moaning our goodbyes and filling this room with a dirty secret of our own.


BANG! BANG! BANG!






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Melodi Roberts: Unscripted, Inside-Out


Underestimated is the first word that comes to mind when I hear the name Melodi Roberts.

This author, editor, and creative genius stormed the literary scene with works: If You Don't Tell, and the "cherry-popping" tales, Untapped, just to name a few. Roberts unforgiving approach to express Black sensuality is a mere art-form -- you won't find blatant, glorified pornography in the confines of her work.

Melodi Roberts talent goes far beyond than words. She has quiet confidence -- a silent roar in the literary world as a mega-collaborator. Think of her as a big-time record producer arranging the best of the best to create platinum success. Indeed, she does not need to shout from rooftops to know she is gifted -- she just is. And once you read her literary gems -- whether you are a fan of eroticism or not -- that "untapped" emotion will sure to come out.


Imani: Melodi, I'm so honored you have accepted the invitation to join me in the Pink Lounge -- welcome. First off, let me ask the question I ask all of my guests: What makes Melodi Roberts the woman who she is today?

Melodi: Imani, thanks for having me. I would have to say the woman I am, or am becoming is ongoing. My life’s passions, personal and professional goal setting and overall curiosities help shape me and drive what I choose to do. My loved ones' ongoing support and encouragement are my fuel. And as I learn more, I grow more and continue to be a work in progress. And that’s absolutely fine with me.

Imani: You are a woman bearing many talents: graphic artist, businesswoman, editor, and of course, author. Tell us when you realized writing was your calling? 

Melodi: Well, actually I read sooooo much as a child and teenager, I was writing suspense stories in middle and high school for my friends. Then as I got older, I realized that I had so many interests—creative interests and so many of those passions drove me to get better at them and then help others get better at what they loved. Sometimes, I feel as though I take on too many projects. But I truly enjoy doing all of it.

Imani: You have an unapologetic approach of expressing sensuality. It had resonated through your brand since I have known you, and still to this day, you carry that honesty. So, tell us: where did the inspiration to write such artistry, because that's what erotica is—poetry in motion—come from?

Melodi: As far as the actual writing of erotica and ‘romantica’, I didn’t see or hadn’t read about the type of experiences I wanted to get lost in. And even worse, many of the stories I did find interesting, didn’t have black main characters. I mean, I grew up in the 90’s—I was surrounded by loving black families who were thriving and whose affection on TV was very genuine and public. Then towards the end of the first decade in 2000s...we slowly started fading away from mainstream where we were most visible to each other.

When DV and I started Naughty Ink Press, it was from the simple passion of telling more complete, more diverse and complex stories—that mirrored life. Especially the parts that people didn’t want to openly talk about. We wanted to “be about” what we “talked about”. We wanted to help shatter the myth of erotic being glorified pornography.

 Imani: You have collaborated with the best in the industry: Brittani Williams, Keith Williams, India Norfleet, and the aforementioned, DV Hent, to name a few. What was it like to work with these talented authors? And do you have plans for another collaboration?

Melodi: I absolutely LOOOVE collaborations! And if we could pay authors in real dollars in addition to the exposure, then I think I would have a ton of projects in the works! But seriously, as a writer/editor, I feel like the type of collections are endless and the challenge is to get my writers to THINK a few layers deeper about what I am asking of them in my collections. I try to pick themes and topics that scratch deeper than the surface. I try to take you back to College Creative Writing 101, lol. So when authors can honestly say, “Hey! This was different for me!” or “This really challenged me!” That makes me really happy.

I always have ideas for new anthologies that I want to put out.  Having “Little Black Book” ongoing and “Mood Ring” (which I feel is a challenging submission) still in the works, my goal is to get those projects done first. I’m still taking submissions. ;)

Imani: You're still taking submissions for "Mood Ring", huh? I think I know someone still owes you a submission (clearing throat). But on a serious note, explain why do you think the submissions for this project are challenging?

Melodi: I feel that they are challenging because typically when authors are asked to come up with some hot sex scenes, the biggest worry has to actually do what/how they scene will unfold, and that's fine. With Mood Ring, I'm asking the authors to create the scene with the mood indicated or implied in the color they've chosen. And in my mind, I kind of have stories that have authors who can really tie the meaning/mood of their color into the final product. For example, Green is typically greed, or earthy. Red is passion or anger....  With this anthology I'm asking the author to be subtle and/or creative with how the sex/erotic scene unfolds based on the color/mood. So essentially, the writer's goal is to wrap the essence of the sexual interactions in the Mood Color they chose. 

Imani: Besides the sex, of course, what makes a great erotic story?

Melodi: I would say creating chemistry between the main characters. Being smart about how you describe your surroundings and of course: Realistic dialogue! I cringe at some of the ‘erotica’ I read where it reads like a—you guessed it—glorified corny porno. As a reader, I want to be seduced by the words on the page, not bombarded with vulgarities masked as erotica. I mean how sexy is eye contact between two forbidden lovers? Undressing them in the dark? As a writer, how sexy can you make that appear to your audience? Foreplay is soooo important in erotica and giving depth to your characters will honestly make or break anything you write in this genre, in my opinion.  I mean, “What’s my motivation?”

As a reader, I want to be seduced by the words on the page, not bombarded with vulgarities masked as erotica. I mean how sexy is eye contact between two forbidden lovers? Undressing them in the dark? As a writer, how sexy can you make that appear to your audience? Foreplay is soooo important in erotica and giving depth to your characters will honestly make or break anything you write in this genre, in my opinion.  I mean, “What’s my motivation?”

Imani: Exactly! Now, let me ask you this, and it may seem to be an awkward question since the subject is erotica: Does a long, drawn out sex scene slows the storyline or makes it better?
  
 Melodi: In all honesty, this really depends on the author's set up. If you've got a couple/group that have been cat and mousing and tip toeing around sexin' each other AND you've managed to pull the reader into the lives or conflict in the set-up then a longer, graphic encounter would be very satisfying.  But if this is a steam room hook up at the gym--the sex scene could be short and sweet and still very satisfying.  If your sex scenes slow down your story for the reader, it's because they are too similar in nature, there is no variety in the set up or the plot just doesn't hold the reader and they aren't invested in having sex with your characters, lol.

Imani: There are some who assume erotica equates hard core pornography. Explain to the readers who aren't familiar with genre the types of erotic stories that are out there.

Melodi: Well, talking strictly my opinion, I feel that erotica or erotic elements can stand alone or be infused into other genres as well. Using D.V. Hent’s work as an example, his first novel, “If You Don’t Tell” was more like relationship drama with the heavy focus on graphic sex scenes. But those characters had depth and life, so their purpose was not to make them just have sex with each other. The graphic scenes were built up and the conflict was of a sexual nature. But many of our readers were invested in the outcomes. They really cared about our Simone, Laela and Quinton. That was what we were trying to achieve.

In Valentine—the dial was turned up and many of her life’s situations and ambitions even, were of a sexual nature. Her scenes were graphic, but she was given a very strong voice. She had a story that could have easily survived the omission of the any graphic sex in that novel. DV did an excellent job of balancing out her strengths and flaws, and once again, his readers absolutely loved her! Hot sex scenes were a bonus!

In Untapped, I wanted to create a collection that dealt with not just fucking, but actually adding a theme that could be identified in each story and it was different for each author. I had so much fun editing those stories and putting them together. I wanted to make sure our readers had a large variety of “cherry popping” in those stories, and I think we accomplished that.

Imani: Let's change the subject a bit and discuss further about black sexuality. Since you are a passionate social commenter like me, what is your opinion of how the media (news, movies, or magazines) hyper-sexualize the black woman?

Melodi: Honestly, I feel that it puts us in a no-win situation. We aren’t hypersexualized to our collective benefit—if that makes sense. We aren’t presented in ways that make us deserving of love, revered, sexy, classy and worthy of commitment. I feel that we are put into a box that may focus on one or two positive traits (like strength/perseverance). The rest is presented as a direct contrast to mainstream (read European) standards and frames us essentially as a: Mammy, Jezebel, Angry Black Woman, Over emotional and broken, or impossible to co-exist with because ‘we don’t need a man’.  Oh, and I forgot Welfare Queen.

I guess that is why I want so much to change that image of an unlovable black woman in my work and the work I put together.

We aren’t presented in ways that make us deserving of love, revered, sexy, classy and worthy of commitment. I feel that we are put into a box that may focus on one or two positive traits (like strength/perseverance)


Imani: Since we're talking about sex, let's talk about HIV in the black community. It's a fact the number of affected cases have risen to a staggering 47 percent in 2011, according to The Family AIDS research. So what are your thoughts as to why the numbers keep rising? Is it poor education or outreach in the community? Or, people aren't taking the virus seriously?

Melodi: Great question.  I feel that it is really a collection of those things. I also do agree that the frontrunner of these is lack of education. Modern medicine has really taken the sting out of the fear of contracting HIV because sooo many people are living long, productive lives with it. Very few cases are truly brought to the forefront regarding full blown AIDS as a modern epidemic. The healthcare community must remain diligent in educating the young and old about the real life changing dangers of HIV.

Imani: Okay -- let's switch gears and go off-topic to talk about an issue that affects every citizen in this country, especially people of color. Now the tragedies that have filled the news and social media of unarmed men have seemed to becoming an unfortunate new normal. With these images of police brutality inundating our screens, has created a deeper mistrust. In your opinion, how can law enforcement rebuild trust in an already tense situation?

Melodi: Whew…that’s a very layered question. I feel so many different ways about this one. Honestly, I feel that “law enforcement” has become a culture of fear cultivation and population control (of emotions.) This culture of individuals who call themselves officers of the law—who make individual choices to commit these atrocities have never really had the full, unfettered trust of Black folks as a whole. I don’t feel that that relationship between us and them was ever healthy or thriving. I mean, if the first officers were slave patrolmen—our jobs as citizens is to know as much of our rights as possible and cross cultural and racial barriers to call these crooked establishments on their shit.  I’m sorry if I’m rambling…I find it so hard to find a rationale solution to something so irrational and even inhumane. I just feel like I’m too old to have to tell my kids about how NOT to arouse the attention of cops for fear that THEY may assault YOU.

Imani: I've been wanting to ask this for a while, and now I have you in The Lounge I have to get this out since mega-producer and music artist, Pharrell injected it in our lingo: What the heck is a "new black"?

Melodi: Complete Bullshit. Nonsensical, sambo, sell-out, tap dance for massa, grade A bullshit. For years I felt like he was a breath of fresh air—so creative and willing to take chances in music production and then he “crossed over” and went nuts…just like Kanye. But I digress…

Imani: Now on a relaxed note: If you were to plan a dinner party and have extended the guest list with three legendary figures (living or not), who would they be and what one question you would ask them?

Melodi: Whitney Houston: Have you ever written a song and can you please sing it? ( I love Whitney and knew just about every song she sang. This is out of pure curiosity.)

Michael Jackson: What/Who is/was really behind all the craziness in the music industry? ( I believe Michael knew way more than he was every allowed to share alive.)

Stevie Wonder: Where do you get the endless creativity and motivation to write timeless songs?

Imani: What future projects do you have in store?

Melodi: Well, for right now, the future is the present. My goal is to increase the amount of digital ebook shorts we have available and continue to work with authors for exposure and FUN! And to encourage DV to get on them sequels to Valentine and If You Don’t Tell, lol.

Imani: Finally, describe in one word Melodi Roberts' work?

Melodi: Inside-out.

Imani: As we conclude the interview, tell the readers where they can purchase your other work, as well as finding you on the web?

Melodi: On the web, we are at www.naughtyinkpress.com
Our 3 books are on Amazon:  If You Don’t Tell, Valentine and Untapped: A Collection of Erotic Firsts

Thanks so much for having me, Imani. This was truly a pleasure and I really enjoyed our interview.

Imani: Likewise, Mel! Come back to The Lounge anytime!  












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