The Black Book

Imagine a world where being sexy is a super power of sorts. That the reason why people are swayed, empowered and compelled to break banks, break ties, break hearts and break bones is due to pleasurable persuasion. A world where the famous and powerful are such because of their enticing allure rather than their intellect and merit? This is the world in which we live, you are simply unaware and we’d like to keep it that way.

Maneaters aren’t created; they are born.

We walk among you because we are you. We are human. Humans with a little extra special something. We are born like any other. However, from conception throughout gestational development, we are forming with an abundance of sex hormones.

We are the fetuses whose penises are mistaken for umbilical cords, infants who have breasts at birth, mock menstruation, tertiary nipples or extra breast tissue hidden beneath an armpit, and some of us are even blessed with both sets of genitalia. We exude sex from the very start. We are sex.

Some of us are androgynous, feminine softness mixed with strong jaw-lines. Found attractive as a man or woman, by a man or woman. Appealing across racial and cultural boundaries. Charming, funny, witty, quirky, sultry, creative and of course above all else-- sexy for days.

It sounds as if we are freaks of nature and in fact, we are in a sense. Not carney freaks-- well except for the bearded lady-- we are freaks in the sheets. We are sluts, tramps, maneaters, lady killers, heartbreakers, man-whores, womanizers, and homewreckers disguised as world leaders, tech gurus, olympic champions and entertainers.

We sometimes go by one name only. Or are artists formerly known as a single nomenclature. We cause grown men to jump up on couches while professing their love to us on national television. We are the champions my friend… We are the Seducers.

Most of us don’t have any distinguishing marks that tell our true identities. A select few who can trace their ancestry to the origin of man and his first seduction are said to have a birthmark of two hearts intertwined. One upside down, overlapping another right side up. It looks more like a misprint of a spade from a pack of playing cards, if you ask me.

Haven’t you ever been so consumed with passion you wanted to devour the one you were with? You wanted to be inside him while he was inside you? Yeah, well some of us take it too far and legends of seductive bloodsuckers, incubi and succubi begin.

We aren’t always the most beautiful. Some of us are downright ugly by societal standards, but we get Typicals lookin' so crazy and drunk in love. What we have that Typicals do not, is abundant sex appeal. If it could be measured, it would be off the charts. Our presence makes straights want to experiment and gays doubt their sexual orientation. The whole men on the “downlow” business is not quite accurate, they simply cannot resist the pull. We attract any and everyone, unintentionally. The poor soul who falls prey to deliberate seduction has no chance of resisting. It is our nature to allure and conquer.

History books speak of wars starting over one of us. Great beauty is mentioned even when it isn’t true-- no offense Miss Pharoah. You’ll never read of extreme sex appeal. There is no mention of how she could suck the spokes off a wagon wheel. You can encounter beauty any day, but the art of seduction was taught by us.

They say, all it took was a glimpse of the small of her back and the dimples above the slit of her plump rear end to cause the King to send her husband to war and make her his queen.

In the second century, there were human sacrifices in the name of seduction gone awry. In the fifteenth century, there were mass orgies that made it into the history books. In 1495, “the great pox”, better known as syphilis, outbreaks reached an all time high.

Some among us believe there exists a force designed to moderate our sexual escapades. When rogues go wild, only venereal diseases and sexually transmitted infections can contain us. Temporally, of course.

We live longest when we abstain. When we have an affair with the President of the United States and his brother, our life is cut short. Celibacy begets longevity in the life of the Seducer. For us, the urge to copulate is stronger than any other human desire. So, not all of us outlive you Typicals. But those of us who resist the call to draw your bodies near, can live 100 years or more. Ancient Seducers were said to have lived even longer. Today, most of our flames are snuffed out in less than half that time.

In a time when lifespans of Typicals were 40 years, if he or she was lucky, suspicions were heightened and burnings and hangings were common practice. Lynchings of the most virile and well endowed men and rapings of the most naturally alluring women were implemented to control a force the culprits knew nothing about. They sensed a threat but could not truly identify its source.

Some call it evil or witchcraft. It’s just pheromones, mainly. We are humans who are simply more aware of ourselves, our nature and the most fundamental desires of man. With this insight, we’ve capitalized for centuries. Utilizing feminine wiles and masculine charm equally or adjusting them as needed, we build the ladders others wish to climb. We set the trends others clammer to follow. We are the standard by which all men, women and children are taught to aspire. We are and always have been #goals.

You think you know us. We seem to have a familiar face or something you remember about us from somewhere we’ve never been together. It’s the scent you find familiar. You don’t know us, but you recognize the sexuality we exude. It’s what compels you to stare and smile. To lock eyes and say, “I know you from somewhere; I just can’t place your face.” You don’t.

This time, I played along. “Yeah, you look familiar too!” He was seated a barstool away, there was nothing remarkable about him until we continued conversing. He was charming and funny. His natural scent was intoxicating, although he masked it with the latest fragrance the Typical women were obsessing over. They didn’t realize his pheromones were the true culprit. I knew. They lingered beneath my flared nostrils, plunging deep inside of them like two scent coated stogie fingers. Perhaps he was a distant relative of a Seducer?

He was coming home with me.

He wanted me to wrap my legs around his neck Native American style. Squeezing his head with my thighs like a boa constrictor, he gasped for air in impressive two minute intervals. He could work that tongue. The most crucial part for both of us was that he made me climax before he blacked out. Breathing was overrated.

Taking his down time as an opportunity to nap a little, I slept longer than I’d planned. When I awoke, he was gone. Scrambling to find my oversized satchel I had dropped on the floor as we came in the front door, it was where I had placed it but my wallet was missing. Money can easily be replaced. I was relieved until realizing he had also taken something that is priceless.

Through the years, I had been tasked with maintaining some of our images as entertaining rather than mystical. Although, a musician or two have been known to profit from the sale of their vaginal scented incense or practically have sex on stage during concerts. I did what I could. Working at one of the oldest and successful PR firms in the nation was essential to keeping our secret under wraps.

As I entered my office Monday morning, I received a texted bank alert. A transaction of $20,000 from an unknown source was deposited into my account, written in the memo section were the words “Destroy black book. One week.”. My usual fee to procure a sensitive item was $5,000. There was only one elusive black book spoken of in our community. Most thought it was simply a rumor designed to keep the wildest of us in check. This mysterious depositor believed it was real and wanted this book fast. So, I called my best guy. I always had a guy for such jobs.

After nearly a week, I had finally come into possession of the item I had planned to destroy when I got home that night. Someone knows who we are and started recording our names in a little black book. The world's knowledge of us won’t affect the effect we have on people, but people have always given their time, their money and their hearts more freely when they believed they were doing so of freewill. The black book had to be destroyed.

It was a small black leather notebook. Etched in its cover was what appeared to be a vidalia onion or maybe a flower bulb stacked one atop the other. One would think it probably belonged to a chef or gardener. The engraving was the mark of the double hearts. Expecting to find recipes or plant sketches inside, the little black book whose contents were inscribed in red ink was filled with names and birthdates. Even the margins were filled with names. Some were immediately recognizable. There were historical figures, politicians, cult leaders, famous musicians, singers, movie stars, athletes, and comedians.

There appeared no rhyme or reason to the order of the list. To the unassuming eye, the owner must really be a big fan of all sorts of people. There seemed to be nothing else written in the book until you reached the inside of the back cover where the word “REWARD” was written in all capital letters. Beneath it was no name-- the one place in the book where there should have been one. There was no phone number or email, just an address on the other side of the city.

That type of small black leather notebook could probably be found at any Moleskine stationery store, but what it contained was priceless. I screwed up and was willing to turn over my $20,000 in cash for its safe return. No questions asked. And once I got it back, I would burn it. I just had to get to it before it was returned to the address written inside. I had to get it before anyone else knew it was missing.

She should have never created that book to begin with, let alone chosen her home address for its return. I recognized the address immediately, although I hadn’t visited in years. It was my sister’s. We didn’t share the same last name but that mysterious employer may still have known. I couldn’t take the risk. If I didn’t take care of it, someone might end up hurt or worse.