Exotic Simplicity

Exotic Simplicity, my baby, my book of prosetry that touches on love (romantic, self, and eros), life, relationships, and spirituality, was birth two years after the demise of my marriage. It is written from the view point of every woman…the single woman, the married woman, the mistress, the single mother, the woman scorned, the praying woman, the confident woman, the vulnerable woman, and the woman that wears the crown of the sensualist. I have, as many other women have, embodied either some or all of the aforementioned roles. I penned this book not only as a means of self expression but also to liberally express what many women feel but either can’t or simply won’t. It is my hope that you thoroughly enjoy what I feel is my God-given gift to share with the world.

I am forever grateful to the bloggers, friends, and my family that encouraged me to put my work out there. They had more confidence in me than I did, for I was merely penning my deeply personal thoughts, feelings, and emotions. I leave you with an excerpt, and interview I did with On the Rise Magazine, my feature in Sistaz Magazine, and the links to purchase the book. I am ever grateful to all that have supported me, the compliments, encouragement, and mostly the critiques.

With love,

L. Chantay




Exotic Simplicity

Let me

Be your Mistress of Sanity

Eroticism

Lucid cerebral actuality

Fused with meditative spirituality

When I allow you to enter me

I enter you

Read you

Free you

Blow you…

Into a state of clairvoyance

Far surpassing perceived reality

Never had a high this high

For I am

The scent of ‘Black Love’ incense

Intermingled with deep inhalations of Life-lusting infused pheromones

With just a hint of seduction on the tongue

I am…Exotic Simplicity


On the Rise


Sistaz Mag

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

Potential Book Cover

Hello beautiful people!!! I am almost done with the book. Here is a preview of one of the potential covers for the book. I might post more and let you guys decide. Here goes nothing...

King of Calm

It’s been a long time. This feels like the tranquility of entering a log cabin in Aspen , dropping the luggage at the door, stripping down to nothing but skivvies, a thin sheer baby T, a cashmere scarf, and soft aloe infused socks. Followed by pouring a nice perfectly full bodied glass of Cabernet, strolling across dark chocolate colored wooden floors, and sinking into a plush cream colored micro suede body enveloping chair by the calmly flickering fire…



As I sift through the superficialities of life I am realizing that the richness of life lies in the simplicity of being. In the last 4 years of life I have been loved, screwed, fucked, fucked over, and made tender passionate love to. In the last year I have cried less than I ever have, made love to a man that relished in every inch of my body, experienced multiple orgasms, came so hard I swear I touched the sky and kissed a cloud, and watched this same man sit back smoke a blunt and just stare at me before heading to the kitchen to fry me some fish.



The relationship didn’t work. In between mind altering sex, deep fulfilling conversations, and late night cuddling I remembered that I still had two little boys that depend on me spiritually, and he remembered that he was afraid of love and its transforming powers. I went on a spiritual cleanse as he wallowed in the fear that Karma would be a bitch and sting his ass with the same hurt that he caused other women years before he met me.



I’m unfortunately fortunate that this wasn’t my first rodeo. This experience helped me grow. For once in my life there was a man that let me be me…all of me. He spoiled me sexually, mentally, affectionately, and allowed me the ability to just be. What we had was simple. When I was in his presence I simply was. Being with him was equivalent to taking a mental vacation away from it all. My mind never shuts off even when I sleep at night. I felt so secure with him that for once in my life I got to bask in the rich simplicity of being and not think about anything other than that moment in time.



For that, he will always be my King of Calm.

Reciprocity

This piece is going in my book, so your honest feedback is wanted and greatly appreciated.




Kiss me softly on the forehead and declare your adulation of me. Envelope my fingertips between the warm pillow-like cushions of your lips. I want to feel the arousing sensation of slow sensual kisses being distributed along my neck and shoulders, awakening my naughty epicenter. My stream of intoxicatingly warm serum overflows from provocation and excitement as you bury your face between my thighs, making me squeal from pleasurable torture.

Toss me over and playfully smack my…please, oh please take me from behind. Please don’t make me beg. It’s such a position of respected power. I feel like your damsel in distress; I trust you enough to let you have your way. You give me one breath stopping spine tingling stroke to calm me before placing me on my back.

You choose to make love to me. You opt to search my soul. I can hide nothing from you in this position; my every thought is revealed and shows on my face as you probe the deepest and innermost facets of my entity. You experiment and discover what makes me pant and moan, what feels best to me, and what causes me pain. Your main objective is to open me up so that you can release into me.

I thank you for gently prying me open so that I could liberate what you needed…

Be Right Back

I know that I haven't made blog rounds yet, nor have I updated here, but I haven't shaken the spot just yet. I have a lot of irons in the fire because I'm grinding, baby! Give me a minute and I'll bring it right back. Writing has always been my first love. You know how it is...breaks are needed to find new muses and sources of inspiration. Writing without inspiration is like making love to your hand. Yeah, it gets the job done, but there's nothing like sweetly welcoming him into the inner most chambers of your euphoric oasis. There's no physical merger deeper than having someone inside of you. Can't get any closer than that...

That being said...I'll holla in a bit

*muchos besos*

I say I want to get married again. I know that I am a really good woman and could make just about any man happy. Not bragging, just stating what I perceive to be the truth as believed by me. The thing is that I am starting to lose hope in the entire institution of marriage. Most people are full of sh*t, both men and women. Not all women are looking for a sugar daddy or Captain Save a Hoe. Yes, I am a single mother, but I am not looking for a ‘daddy’ for my children. They have one of those, and though we don’t get along, I thank God that my sons do have a relationship with their father. I am independent, but I dare not say that I do not need a man. I don’t need one to support me financially, but it would be really nice to have one that supported me emotionally and backed me when it came to living out my dreams, no matter how off beat they may be.

I guess I am slowly starting to lose my hope in marriage because of what I don’t see on a daily basis. I work with a ton of men, and we talk about sex, love, life, relationships, families, and everything else in between, but what I don’t see is them lighting up or even smiling when they mention their wives. I have yet to meet a married man that I couldn’t bed, which really disheartens me. I know that I have a sexual aura about me because I am a very sensual woman, but I want to meet just one married man that can see that I am attractive, yet never make a pass at me because he knows and lets it be known that his wife is the business, and that in his eyes no other woman holds a candle to her.

I guess what I am looking for just doesn’t exist. I want to marry my best friend. That one that I can laugh and joke with, be silly, goofy and nerdy in front of, share my innermost fears, hopes, dreams, and aspirations with, debate with, disagree with, get mad at, yet still lay down every night knowing that I have the assurance of lying next to my very best friend…and a mind blowing sex life would be the icing on the cake. I love Black men and think that they are la crème de la crème, but I want to meet just one that defies all the stereotypes about Black men and relationships. I know it’s hard to get off the freak train, open up emotionally, and lay your pride to the side in order for the one that truly loves you to help you…but isn’t it worth it if this means living a richer life than you could ever achieve alone, or with one that doesn’t challenge you to reach your full potential?

Random Thoughts

Typing the thoughts as they come…

I am feeling some kind of way. Like a ball of passion, lust, and boredom, coupled with morals and the need for a good healthy debate which all lead to me being a big mass of frustration.

I try to keep most of my thoughts to myself, because if some of the people I know knew what really goes on in my mind, I would be all kinds of names. I wear my sentiments on my face, though.

I love words. I write because I am not all that great at relaying what I feel verbally. I feel things vividly and intensely, therefore I write. I am a woman of few words unless engaged in playful banter or debates. I am usually never what people expect me to be. I love hard. Yes, I do. I love deeply.

My vice is lust. We all have a drug of choice or thorn in the side. I think Lust lusts after me and pursues me with reckless abandon. I try my hardest to be good, to keep my sensual self to myself, and it never fails, someone comes along and ignorantly begins to play around with the fire that is my mind. I should come with a warning sign: Owner of the body housing this mind is not held accountable for your pending addiction. I know that I am highly addictive. By no means am I being arrogant or haughty. I don’t mean to be addictive.

This causes me to wonder what kind of women my sons will run across in their lives. I want them to have women like me, but I also know what women like me are capable of if not handled properly.

I think women should be more confident. It’s uber sexy. And stop making it so easy for men. Yes, we know that it doesn’t take candy, flowers, and a bunch of other material possessions to get into our panties because 9 times out of 10 we already have it in our minds whether or not he will be feasting at our tables anyway, but whatever happened to a nice hearty helping of mental jousting and stimulation? That’s far more erotic to me than saying or doing anything sexual.

When I was married I thought that single women were the devil. (Not really). Now that I am single I know how to be a better married woman. Weird how life throws you curve balls, making you walk in the very same shoes you once despised.