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Introduction
Caramel Flava was a special undertaking giving me an opportunity to offer a great book to an underserved market. I have worked hard in my work as an editor and publisher to give a voice to black authors. I felt a similar push to do so far my Latino sisters and brothers who embrace sensuality. Love is the universal language, but erotic stories that specifically speak to the Latino market have been difficult to find. I know that Caramel Flava will appeal to readers of all ethnicities, as do the stories in Chocolate Flava, but they are tailored especially for the Latino heart. I was overwhelmed by the response to my call for submissions to the anthology. I got so many awesome stories that there are enough to do three or four collections. So, if you enjoy these—and I am confident that you will—there is more Caramel Flava to come.
Thank you to everyone who made this possible, and to all the authors who lent their talents to crafting these steamy, unforgettable tales.
So light the candles, get comfortable, and enjoy these other wonderful authors. Reach out to them, become avid readers of their work. They all deserve it. And then remember to pass on the love you gather in your heart from this special reading experience.
Blessings,
Zane
The Masquerade Party
La fiesta de disfraces
Tracee A. Hanna
Tiara, a single, lovely, caramel-complexioned Venezuelan American, accepted an invitation to a masquerade party. She dressed in an all-white nurse costume: hat, corset, miniskirt, thigh highs, garter, and high-heeled shoes, with a stethoscope around her neck and a medical bag as her purse. Upon arriving at the party she was greeted by a handsome man, dressed in black slacks and a black mask. His muscular chest, magnificent arms, and his feet, were bare.
“Hello, may I see your invitation, please?” the usher asked. Tiara handed him her invitation. “This is a masquerade party. Everyone must be masked at all times,” the usher said as he helped her put on a satiny white eye mask. He whispered in her ear, “Remember the rules tonight: no names, no business talk. Have fun and try the punch; it’s delicious.” He opened the double doors to the ballroom. The massive room was filled with masked people wearing beautiful costumes. “You are at table three. Follow me.” He escorted Tiara to her seat.
“Thank you,” she responded, smiling as she followed the sexy usher.
As Tiara walked through the ballroom she noticed, in the corner to her left, a table holding flutes filled with champagne; wineglasses filled with white, red, and blush wines; and goblets filled with an exotic punch (spiked with herbal aphrodisiacs). There was also a full-service wet bar for everyone’s convenience. The dance floor was, to her right, filled with people moving their bodies to the beat. In the middle were several tables covered with white linen. Just beyond the tables was a host of people standing in small groups talking.
“Enjoy your evening,” the usher said
before taking his leave.
Just as she was taking her seat a waiter walked up to her with a tray full of drinks.
“Would you like a drink, ma’am?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“I have champagne, wine, and punch or, if you’d like, I can bring you something from the bar.”
“I’ll try the punch, please.” He placed the glass of punch on the table. “Thank you.”
Tiara sat, people watching, as she sipped her punch.
“May I have this dance?” asked a portly man dressed as a sultan.
“Yes.” As they danced, she asked, “What should I call you tonight?”
“You may call me Sultan. I believe that I am the only one here.” He kissed the back of Tiara’s hand. “You are a beautiful, sweet, toffee Latina. What should I call you, dear lady?”
“You may call me Nurse Taboo.” Tiara giggled.
Tiara moved on to dance with and talk to several different men and women as the night passed. She had taken on the persona of Nurse Taboo, accepting touches and kisses from other partiers. She became one of the most popular people at the party. As the night progressed, the music changed to a dark African Cuban beat. Tiara found everything about the ambiance arousing, from the half-dressed ushers and servers to the genitalia-shaped ice sculptures; from the dim lighting to the life art hanging on the walls depicting several erotic and seemingly impossible sexual positions; from the exotic-tasting punch to the never-ending flow of champagne. But, what she found most stimulating was the people of all different sizes, shapes, and colors; drinking, dancing, and touching freely.
Tiara was standing in front of the drink table trying to catch her breath after an intense dance session with a sexy deep dark chocolate man wearing nothing but a leopard-print loincloth and matching eye mask. Her back was to the room as she took a moment to pat her face, neck, and breasts dry before getting another glass of the decadent punch.
“I know you and you know me,” a man whispered in Tiara’s ear. The man pressed his groin against her butt as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
