I knew I probably wasn't really doing as well as it felt like I was doing. But I didn't step on her toes -- too often -- and I felt like I was gliding...along like Fred Astaire on his best night.I hadn't known there would be a full moon on that particular night, but I had lucked out on that, too. The river, with the moon reflected brilliantly on it, looked dark, mysterious and beautiful. The lights along both sides glided by as our old-fashioned riverboat churned through the water. And the live. “Parker,” he barked into the telephone, when the private investigator came on the line after several minutes delay. “Parker, don’t you ever keep me holding this damned phone again! For what we’re paying you, I don’t get put on hold! Do you hear me?”“Yes, I hear you, Mr. Adams. My secretary didn’t understand. I was on another call. I’ll tell her to cut in next time. So, what do you want?”“I want something done about that crazy old Indian, that shriveled-up runt, that Siwash, you called him, that. Jack! I'm shattering. Jack! Jack!Everything has gone quiet. Please, don't leave me. Someone's holding me, rocking me like a baby. Two hands lower me. My legs are hoisted up, and the cock resumes fucking me. Rough hands find my nipples. I'm sobbing uncontrollably.The man under me kisses my ear. "Good girl," he whispers.Mani? Daniel? I want to see you. Sweaty hands grab my ankles. My cunt is jerked up and the cock rams me. I'm going to be split open. My breathing falters. The cock bucks, frenzied. For example, one of the heroes of one of my best novels is a Haitian-American college student and aspiring police cadet who struggles with his bisexuality. He’s madly in love with his girlfriend, the sexy tomboy next door, but he’s also got feelings for a guy he knows from his school days. I also tried to diversify the most homogenous literary genres out there, science fiction and horror. I wrote about Black vampires, Black werewolves and Black magicians. I made them the protagonists of several.