Nane Quartay


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Posted by NaneQuartay on August 19, 2014 at 5:40 PM Comments comments (0)


Now it's my time. I've been marinating on a story of erotica. A hot story that will explore erotica from a male point of view, one that is visual and stimulating and full of lust! That's all we have when our nerve endings spring to life, when our eyes discover the lure of temptation and the gratification of satiation. Ohhhh. It's so lovely! It's delightful. It's an all encompassing yummy that lays heavy on the tongue until the next time. It's a constant state of horny with a smorgasborg of possibilities that comes in all flavors, shapes and sizes. It takes years to overcome the sensory overload... and then that is only when you are able to snatch the pebble from the Master's hand.


But, anyway, I, myself am thinking outside of the box on this one. I want to stray a bit on the far side and see how real my fiction can get. To see how much sensuality I can squeeze inside of the sexuality. I think it will be fun. So Erotica, here I come!!!!

Splash! Splash!

I Start With Fire

Posted by NaneQuartay on April 2, 2014 at 6:15 PM Comments comments (0)

Greetings! My name is Nane Quartay and this is my first step toward becoming socially savvy in the cyber world. It looks okay in here but allow me to take a few baby steps. So I start with Fire. My latest novel that is due out next month. Feel The Fire.

It is by far, my most ambitious effort and it took me a moment to let her out into the world all by herself! After all of my nurturing, worrying, changing and pampering, she didn't even glance back at me as she made her way out the door! But I can't give up on her! I shan't!

So I'm taking this oppurtunity to introduce my novel to the world and I hope you take a moment to get to know her.

Feel The Fire


Posted by NaneQuartay on April 10, 2013 at 10:10 PM Comments comments (0)

Finally! The Q has come back to....!!!!

You should see me! Got my tongue sticking out and e'rythang! LOL! I'm just feeling good because I finally finished my first draft of my story Feel The Fire. Of course there are edits and edits and edits and.... well, you know, there is a lot of editing going on, but for me editing isn't that much of a big deal. By the time I get to that point, I have my characters figured out and I can only make them better.

I'm babbling. But that's because I'M HAPPY! I'm happier than two blunts and a bowl of Sugar Smacks. Happier than Tiger Woods and a room full of naked blondes! Nah. I ain't that happy but I'm feeling real pleasant so I want to share a piece of Buckback.

Buckback is a young Black man suffering from Tourette syndrome in the South in 1966 which means he will say anything that comes to mind. A dangerous affliction to have in the old south.

I hope you like.

Porter-man. Why can’t I ask you something?”

“You can ask me what you want Buck.”

“I can?”

Porter nodded his head.

Buckback looked at Porter then looked around to make sure they weren’t overheard before he started talking. “It’s about girls though! Girls!”

“Go ‘head then Buck. What you want to ask?”

“Well, you got a girlfriend Porter-man, why can’t I have me one?”

Shit! Porter’s mind raced. Buckback should have learned about girls a long time ago, he was old enough to handle the facts of women and what they meant. Then he thought about how he himself wasn’t exactly too sure of himself when it came to women and he gave the matter some more thought. If Buckback was anything like Porter, this was a subject that he wouldn’t dare ask his mother or father about so the only other source of information would be his friends.

“Okay Buckback,” Porter said. “What do you want to know?”

Buckback stepped toward him with an anxious expression. “Why can’t I have me one?”

“You saw some girl that you like?”

“Is that what I gotta do?”

“Buckback. Let’s start from the beginning. You liking girls now?”

“I do!”

“What do you like about girls Buckback?”

“They’re pretty. And soft looking. And they have pretty smiles. They smile with they eyes when they smile at me. And they shape too! I like the way they shaped.”

“So you got that part down,” Porter said. “And what do you want to do with a girl?”

“I don’t know. I like the way they shaped though.”

“Uh huh. What else?”

“I like to look at they shape. But I didn’t think of nothing else.”

Porter could always tell when Buckback was serious; well, as serious as Buckback was likely to get, and this really mattered to him. “Okay Buckback. Okay. You think that you really ready for the real heavy shit?”

Buckback nodded his head anxiously.

“Okay.” Porter looked around the store and then leaned toward Buckback. “The secret to women is lustables.”

“Lustables, Porter-man?”

“Lustables. See what happens is that they get you with they lustables, that shape that you see swinging and swaying and pulling you in, playing around with your blood pressure and dragging a man where he wants to go but ain’t supposed to go.”

“So that’s what it was?” Buckback giggled. “I liked it though Porter-man! I liked they lustables.” He was shifting from one foot to the other as he listened.

“Yeah,” Porter went on. “But those lustables get you in the end. It’s what you call ingenious. Nothing that any person could have thought of, you know what I mean Buck?”

“Yes! Yes, I do!” And Buckback giggled some more.

“The French call it the Little Death but for you, we gonna go with lustables, okay? Now what happens is that the lustables get a hold of you and you can’t let go. Many a good man has tried but none of them have ever escaped the lustables. It’s a mite powerful thing. Now here is the tricky part; after you get the lustables, a baby comes out.”

“Get up on out of here,” Buckback said, hands spread in disbelief.

“So you better watch out for them lustables, okay?”

The Man Downstairs.

Posted by NaneQuartay on January 31, 2013 at 3:45 PM Comments comments (0)

This story is an excerpt from a novel I recently completed. While I was writing this chapter, I became aware of how much phases can affect the creative process. I know! I know! That shit is obvious, right? But, for me, I never really noticed that affect, never felt that external factors affected me when I went into my internal playspace. My escape space. But, of course, life isn't internal or external... it's both and I felt it when I was writing about The Man Downstairs. See, I was trying to be sexy and erotic, tried to find the oooohhhhh in the coochie (if that makes any sense). And I came up with this chapter.

                                                                  The Man Downstairs

Jeremiah and Patricia lay in the bed together, their breathing having long since returned to normal as the strands of music floated up to them from the man downstairs. A soft, ivoried melody, the distinctive keys of the piano matched the harmonic voice that brought the sound to its fullness, playing directly into Jeremiah's vibe.

Patricia nuzzled deeper into his embrace, her lips, finding the tender spot on his neck, dry and warm, her breath on his skin, reassuring and comforting. His fingers found her waist and he held her there, where the swell of her hips began, and he let the music take him…

'I've kissed your lips, and laid with U

And I cherish every moment we spend

In each other's arms'

Jeremiah closed his eyes and pulled her close, listening to her breathe, but sleep wouldn't come for him. He was having thoughts. Left field thoughts. Way out there and headed for the fences, and he was sprinting for the ball but gaining no ground, the earth churning like a treadmill beneath his feet; as if he was destined not to make that catch. He looked down at Patricia. She had a hair out of place, a stray strand, evidence of the heat they had just shared. Jeremiah smiled and gently nudged it back into place.

He was catching feelings for Patricia, she was different than Candy, more mature, more… 'special'. She baffled him in so many ways. She had no reservations, no hesitation about sexing him up, sharing her body with him in ways that shocked him sometimes, surprised him to the point where he had to drop some of his own sexual notions and open his mind to pleasures that he frowned upon before. But when she refused to answer his questions about whether she was seeing anyone else, the equivalence of a straight arm to the chest to keep him at his distance, and reminded him of the extent of their relationship, Jeremiah felt a pang of jealousy, an emotion that totally surprised him.

She was Ronnie's sister, and that would be a serious complication if he ever found out but Jeremiah felt that he could live with whatever happened. In life, unexpected happenings should be expected, things happened, events that were beyond anyone’s control and Jeremiah figured that this was one of those times, so he discarded all reason and went with the flow.

“I'm just here to have fun,” she had told him. “If that's too much for you, Jeremiah, then we need to stop this right now.”

The music floated up to him as he lay there. A soft, melody riding the intensity of the wave of the piano keys, washing the night, bathing him in its melancholy, as sexy as skin on skin.

“I guess my eyes can only see as far as U

I only want 2 be with U

And the nights you're not with me

I'm scared,

That you're gonna leave.”

Jeremiah stirred. The night hadn't started as smoothly as he had hoped. They had argued when Jeremiah asked her if she were seeing anyone else. Patricia had never spent the night with him since they had become sex friends and he wanted to know the reason.

“Why can't you just 'like' me,” Patricia said. “And enjoy what we do together without getting extra emotional about it?”

She was so lovely in the candlelight as she sat across the table from him. Jeremiah had truly wanted to make the night special so he had watched the Food Network for hours until he saw a show that prepared a meal he thought Patricia would enjoy. A meal that sat untouched at the moment; salmon with a creamy lemon sauce, Basmati rice and French green beans all served with a glass of White Zinfandel, a meal momentarily forgotten as she waited for his answer.

“It's not that,” Jeremiah's voice was calm but in truth he didn’t know what he meant either, didn’t know how to tell her that he wanted to claim her, to have her for more than his bed and he couldn’t justify such desires to himself. If he could only tell her, if he could only put words to emotions that he, himself didn't understand. Left field thoughts. Way out there.

“So what is it then?”

“Is that what you want then?” Jeremiah said. ”Robot sex? Emotionless, passionless screwing? Would you mind if I got some pleasure from it? Do you?”

“You're being ridiculous now,” Patricia said. She sighed before she spoke. “Jeremiah, if you take the passion out of the bedroom, we might as well cut this thing off, right now, because there's no need to go any further.” Her voice softened when she reached across the table for his hand. “I want your passion. I like it. It touches me more than anything. And in all the right places. It pleases me, satisfies me, and it’s all good. But you gotta leave it in the bedroom. You have to.”

“All I asked you was if you were seeing someone else.”

“And I'm answering, okay?”

“’Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies?’” Jeremiah said. “You call that an answer? I get no more than that?”

She stood from the table. She was wearing a short, black dress that hugged her body so smoothly that it appeared to be another layer of skin. She had delicious curves, a temptation that he couldn't resist and her beauty reached to her eyes, a look that captured him.

“Actually, Jeremiah, you get all of this.” She moved her body like a snake. “All of this.”

Jeremiah laughed his appreciation. “Okay, Patricia. Please. Sit down and let's partake of this delicious repast.”

“So we're good?”

Their eyes met. “Yeah. We're good. Sometimes I get all emotional and shit.”

Patricia smiled and sat at the table.

“It's just that you got 'all of that', Patricia. All of that! You got breast-isis and ass-isis. What is a brotha to do?”

She laughed out loud.

The rest of the dinner went off smoothly. They talked about Jeremiah's plans for college and his chances of making it to the NBA, the daily drama of making it out of the ghetto and their final destinations in the future. They sat in front of the television and watched Unstoppable, a movie about a runaway train, and then they went to bed.

The song was ending now, a high falsetto that seemed to scream at Jeremiah, a rhythmical warning.

“I guess you'd say that I'm

I'm just being a fool.

But I always, always want to be

With you.”

Jeremiah glanced at his bedside clock. Ten thirty. The night was still young and he could feel Patricia's heartbeat as she dozed against him. He watched her sleep for a while, pondering how she seduced him without even trying. Her face was soft, he found her beauty touching, her lips full and inviting and her eyes, when she looked at him, promised a satisfaction that was beyond his imagination.

He shook his head to bring himself out of his trance. He chided himself: he was actually watching this woman sleep! Like he was a character on a Lifetime movie! What in the hell?

I better get a hold of myself. Before I get caught up!

“Were you watching me sleep?” Patricia murmured, not unpleasantly. “Thinking nasty thoughts?” She moved against him and he felt himself responding.

How does she do this to me?

He answered. “Isn't that what you want me to think, nasty girl?”

“Patricia if you're nasty.” she said and her lips found his. A sleepy kiss that slowly became much more and Jeremiah found himself lost in the sensation. Her tongue tasted sweet, sugary, and he started a slow dance, touching, savoring, and Patricia responded with a tango, uptempo, faster, urgent. Her hands found his chest, moving him so that their connection gained more depth and Jeremiah surged forward. They gasped in unison, their lips, touching and for a second, they were apart, a hairs breath the only distance between them, and their eyes locked in the dark light.

Softly, yet somehow, clearly, music could be heard from the man downstairs, its words and melody seized them with a warmth and breadth that intensified their embrace. The singer's voice floated on silken chords yet was heavy with need, vulnerable. A man, speaking his piece and meaning every syllable.

“I'm missing you.

Don't know what to do

My life is dark

So dark without you”

“You are so sexy baby,” Jeremiah said. “Let's make love tonight.”

Amusement gleamed in Patricia's eyes.

“Be serious, Patricia! I figure I can make love for about five, six minutes, tops, and after that I'm back to booty scratchin' sex.”

“In that case, you have a deal Mr. Goodbar.”

Jeremiah pulled her on top of him and held her tightly as they resumed their tongue dance. They moved in waves, a lusty slow dance in a world where the only sound was a voice crooning for them. They moved to the music, slow dancing in the dark, their bodies beating in syncopation, unhurried. They composed their own ballad with the sound of heated flesh clashing in agreement and their cries only echoed the musical poetry of the song.

“What you doing to me

What I did to you

This is torture to me

I feel just like a fool”

At the end of the night, Jeremiah was finally able to fall asleep but when he woke up in the morning, Patricia was gone. Never had his bed seemed so empty, the absence of her warmth seemed like a tragic loss to him. When his phone rang, he hopped out of the bed, anticipation coursing through him.

“Hey baby!”

“Hey to you too baby.”

His smile died. It was Candy.

Excerpt - Tending The Fire

Posted by NaneQuartay on October 11, 2011 at 5:10 PM Comments comments (2)


The bell above the door jangled and Michael Larry burst into the room with a big smile on his face. “I think that I found me The One!” he announced.

A chorus of disbelief erupted. “Not again!”

“What about The One?” Caz said. Caz was an experienced hound, the father of many babies, and he so enjoyed it whenever he encountered a young pup that he could teach how to bark. Caz had slyly questioned Michael Larry, measuring the depth of his game and came away satisfied that Michael Larry wasn’t boasting about his conquests, he was simply relating his experiences. Caz identified with that. “What you gonna do about her then? The womens is always gonna be around man. Your ass-cam detector gonna go off every day. What then?”

“Caz,” Dale said. “What the hell is a ‘ass-cam detector’?” All heads swung to Caz for an explanation; he was known to come up with some wild shit sometimes.

“None of ya’ll know what an ass-cam is? None of ya’? No wonder ya’ll all still virgins.”

“You don’t know neither,” Dale said.

“See? That was some virginal shit to say right there! Okay. An ass-cam detector. Okay. Here’s the perfect example. Say that we sittin’ here, like we are now, talking shit, and a fine, sexy ass woman walks past that window right there! None of us is looking in that direction, we ain’t looking for the ass! We talking, right? Minding our own, right? You know what would happen then? Your ass-cam detector goes off - beep, beep, beep - and detects that ass and even though you ain’t lookin’ that way, you know that it’s there and your horny sexuals make you turn your head and look.” Caz, who had been leaning forward, intent on explaining himself, now leaned back in his seat, satisfied. “You don’t see it, you don’t hear it, you don’t smell it. You feeeelllllll it! Ass-cam detector, man!.”

“Anyway!” Porter spoke to Michael Larry. “You finally met The One, huh?”

“Ass-cam!” Caz said. “You got the ass and the camera is in the sexual consciousness… of your miiiiiiiind! Ass-cam!”

Imperfect Lies

Posted by NaneQuartay on March 23, 2011 at 8:19 PM Comments comments (0)

This is my first stab at blogging. A few minutes ago I finished typing this beautiful entry into this blog - basically it concerned the three parts of a story that give me the most trouble. The beginning, the middle and the end. The beginning is my favorite because I'm usually full of fire at the onset, but the middle? I start looking like MC Hammer on crack, Humpty!!! And the ending is absolutely bananas because sometimes you don't like the ending, sometimes you don't want to end or even know where to end. Anyway, after I finished this beautiful blog, it was erased! I really, really hate that. So here is an excerpt from a story that will be a entry in my next novel. It's called Renny Knox.


     “Renny. I’m pregnant.”


     Not a deep thought or a deeply profound reaction but it was all he could muster up at the moment. Leshelle watched him intently; concern etched across her face as she wondered where the next few moments would lead. In truth, she had no idea what her next move would be, this pregnancy was unplanned and unwanted but now it was inevitable. She cared for Renny, she had been attracted to his brooding, good looks from the moment she had seen him and developed a deep affection for his humor and sometimes serious demeanor, but a baby was different. While it was true that they shared a strong connection, the specter of fatherhood was frightening; in fact she was also confused.

    “Say something,” she said.

     A line from a Bill Withers song popped into his head. Ain’t no sunshine when she’s gone. To Leshelle he said, “How do you feel about it ‘Shelle?” Leshelle was his innocent sexy – that is what he called her – her thickness had lured him with a pull he couldn’t resist but her smile and that twinkle in her startling green eyes is what kept him hungry for her. “And even more… how do you feel about me?”