The Book of Zane
Our musical styles varied somewhat but we were both getting paid to do what we were passionate about, so it was all good. Glad my body was looking tight that week we filmed it in Punta Cana. Otherwise, I would have been worried about people seeing my flaws forever and would have cringed when I heard the numbers. Even though my song was dope, the visual effects of the Dominican Republic made the video truly pop. Most people in the United States would only ever dream of traveling the world. I was blessed to actually do it on the regular. Sounds crazy but I had more than a million frequent flier miles.
Then again, I was actually flawless, keeping it real.
The Book of Zane
Rivalry was thick in the music industry and it was no longer completely about selling records, even though I had sold more than million albums and over a billion singles at that point in my career, shattering all kinds of records. It was about being a performer. Selling out arenas for hundreds—sometimes thousands, if bootlegged—of dollars per ticket and making the world believe you were the shit.
That you could walk on water, that you were superhuman and unparalleled and untouchable. I was definitely that for an overabundance of reasons. I tried to quickly distance myself from the long-ago memories that were persistently clambering back and focus on my upcoming show that evening. As always, I was going to turn it out, but first I had to get dressed and go do a sound check. I hated sound checks. They were nothing but an intrusion on a perfect day. I had been doing the shit long enough that they should have known exactly what settings to have on the soundboards, but each venue space was different, so I dealt with it.
Pure irony that I had never performed in Atlanta before. Then again, I had my reasons. Damn good reasons. Okay, the memories were coming back again. It was time to do something extreme. Aw, yeah, some freaky shit for me to get off on! I stood up, grabbed my back scrubber with the wooden handle, and then sat back down in the tub.
I moved the end of the handle in and out of Thumper and closed my eyes. I started gyrating my hips to the music, like I was a stripper named Nutcracker working the pole, except the pole was literally between my legs and inside of me. I slid it in deeper and deeper until I was thrashing around in the tub by the time the song ended. I was an expert at getting myself off quickly. Then I sighed.
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It was what it was and I needed to finish bathing and get dressed. It was only a matter of time before Diederik, Antonio, and Kagiso—my three bodyguards—who occupied the suites surrounding mine, would come to get me for the sound check. One of them was always stationed outside my door. Too many damn nuts in the world obsessed with celebrities. One usually stayed in the lobby at all times, by the elevator as well. I felt like that only drew unnecessary attention, but they insisted. There is a very high cost for fame that no one could ever comprehend until they find themselves in that position.
Kagiso was straight from the African bush. At least, I would tease him about that. In all actuality, he was six feet five inches of intelligence, brawn, and fineness. Dark as midnight, with skin softer than butter, these clear brown eyes, and a cleft in his chin that women found to be an instant panty wetter.
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Imagine a man that size sitting in a circle with five-year-olds. He had done it, though, for an entire decade, before he decided to pursue something else. Antonio was from East L. He ran away to San Diego, hung tight for a couple of years, joined the navy, served his country, and went into private security. At six two, he was the shortest of my bodyguards but was thicker than a Snickers, with muscles rippling everywhere.
He had sepia eyes, dimples, cinnamon skin, and he was bowlegged—an added bonus.
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Diederik was Nordic and get this, six foot ten. Looked like a tree walking toward you. Spiked blond hair, ice-green eyes, and a gorgeous bone structure.
Yeah, I had some sexy-ass motherfuckers protecting my life, but I had never technically messed around with any of them, nor would I ever do such a thing. Meanwhile, Zoe discovers under hypnosis that her fascination with sex stems from she had buried deep in the crevices of her mind years before. Zoe ends up being repetitively stalked and attacked.
It all comes to a head on a cold, dark mountain following a trail of murders and the true murderer is anyone's guess. Addicted does for women what Fatal Attraction did for men. It will make a woman think twice before risking it all. A page-turner, a little more erotic then I'm used to reading, but it touched on some serious issues with the main character. View all 4 comments. This was one of the first erotic books that I read and it was great.
Addicted, chronicles the life of Zoe, a middle class African American female who seeks therapy for sexual addiction. Zoe becomes obsessed with sex in early adolescence and relentlessly pressures Jason, her high school sweet heart to take her virginity. Although she manages to marry Jason, the love of her life and they experience financial stability in spite of becoming teen parents, Zoe leads a double life. By day she is mother, This was one of the first erotic books that I read and it was great.
By day she is mother, doting wife and successful art dealer.
By night and sometimes in the afternoon, she goes barreling headfirst into affairs with people who keep dangerous secrets. Blunt, violent and entitled, something black women have never collectively been, Zoe, feels she has a right to toe curling extramarital "sexcapades" with people she knows only on a first name basis to fulfill the sexual desires her sexually repressed husband cannot. She's possessive of her lovers and feels justified in having knockdown drag-out fights with their women and justified in telling outlandish lies to Jason to cover her tracks.
Thanks for the fabulous read Zane, View 2 comments. Jan 29, K. Umm Ka'reem rated it really liked it. I absolutely love this book! One thing I could say that I dislike about it is how extra parts could be, like how "perfect" her life is, and the part where she got hypnotized etc. It just seems a bit too exaggerated, but I guess you could find people like Zoe in real life. And the sex scenes were kind of whack. I don't know if that's a good term, but anyway the I absolutely love this book! It's a mind blower!
View all 3 comments.
Zane and the Hurricane
And I don't mean it as a term of endearment. Just no.
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Sorry I was liking this book in the beginning and it just kept spiraling into a trifling mess. Apr 12, Drew Jameson rated it did not like it. Much like reading the comic strip Curtis, everytime I picked this up on the bus and hope the person next to me didn't read the cover , I wondered if Zane is really black. I also wonder if "she" is really a woman. If it turned out that "Zane" is really a psuedonym for a racist, misogynist, white man, trying to reinforce every idiotic negative stereotype you've ever encountered, I wouldn't bat an eye. Or maybe she's just someone who discovered people will buy horrendous trashlit that traffics in Much like reading the comic strip Curtis, everytime I picked this up on the bus and hope the person next to me didn't read the cover , I wondered if Zane is really black.
Or maybe she's just someone who discovered people will buy horrendous trashlit that traffics in wish-fulfilment and the most pedestrian taboos treated in the clumsiest ways. To say that this book is trash would be unfair. To trash. I would be hard pressed to say reading this is better than not reading at all. It's perhaps a step-up from internet fan-fiction. Reading Zane is much like eating McDonald's. Oct 10, Aimie rated it really liked it. A heart stopping 4.