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The Little Black Notebook

by L. M. Williams 10 months ago in relationships / nsfw / humanity / fiction

A short story

Sniveling and blindly stumbling into the shop, Rebecca was certainly a sight for sore eyes. Must have been another break-up. She only ever frequented this particular bookstore on this particular street in search of a new book filled with wind-swept romance and lust and things that should only be discussed behind closed doors in a pursuit of happiness she found unattainable in real life.

Rebecca was a fine enough girl. Smart. Had a way with words. A...strange sense of humor and about as average as they came with a round face (not quite oval, not quite heart) and dull lifeless brown hair. Her breasts rounded and ripened like fresh fruit yet her hips and waist had undistinctive lines. Only on her best days she could pass for a five, possibly a six if she really put the effort into her make-up, hair and wardrobe. But on days like today, with her hair a wind-blown nest, splotchy face and pizza grease stained clothing, she would be fortunate to pass for a two.

And sadly to say, this wasn't the first nor second nor tenth time I'd seen this poor creature come in this way. Always heartbroken. Always seeking some fanciful romance. I couldn't let this carry on any longer. I've told myself I mustn't intervene, but truthfully she scared away the customers. In this day and age a lowly bookstore owner like myself couldn't afford to lose clientele.

She wallowed up and down the aisles, looking for her next novel. Her ghastly nose blowing filled the air. By the time Rebecca made it up to the counter, she had three books in one hand and a wade of gooey-looking tissue in the other.

Hiding a grimace, I reached down beneath the counter and pulled out the cloth wrapped notebook I told myself eons ago that I would never let a mortal see let alone possess again, but promises were made to be broken. They never wanted to pay the little fee of their soul. But I couldn't allow her to continue to wreck havoc on my shop. She was worth the risk. "Here." I said, sliding it across to her. "Try this."

Setting the books and dirty tissue side by side, she carefully unwrapped the notebook as if afraid it would jump up and bite her. The cover was a dark charcoal black, slightly faded around the spine but otherwise in perfect condition. Gingerly, she peeled open the cover and flipped through a couple of the blank pages before her face fell. "It's just a notebook."

"Not just any notebook." I grabbed the other books and set them aside. "This book, it can grant you your deepest desires."

Skeptically, she glanced up at me.

"All you have to do is write it down."

"Uh huh." She grumbled, but I could tell I had her intrigued with the way her fingers lingered over the pages.

"Test run it. I'll let you keep it for 24 hours. If you don't like, return it for no charge. If you do like it, which I know you will, you can pay your due later."

She gave another doubtful look but said nothing before leaving with the notebook.


Rebecca lied back on her bed with a half empty bottle of wine beside her as she swiped mostly right and seldom left, desperately waiting for a match. Any kind of match. She told herself she wouldn't go back to dating apps so soon after Todd gave the "it's not me, it's you" speech. They had been seeing each other for five weeks (a new record) before he "couldn't do it anymore" and "needed something better, someone who would take care of themself." She would never admit that she had a type, but she had a type.

As she swiped, she stumbled upon this gorgeous specimen of a man. Thick curly hair that swirled around the tops of his ears and across his forehead. A perfectly chiseled chin and abs for days according to his shirtless photos. She could imagine running her fingers over those notches down his abdomen, counting them slowly, reaching down to the top of his pants, sliding her hand inside to feel his hot quivering member awaiting her.

Ian Lang.

She licked her lips, her body growing warm with arousal.

Then her eyes landed on the notebook. Write down whatever I want? In her loopy handwriting she wrote down his name and waited. And waited. And waited.

Frustrated, she tossed her phone and the notebook aside, finished the wine and went to bed.

Morning light harshly came through the opened curtains of her bedroom window. Groaning into her pillow, her hand felt around for her phone until her fingers touched the cool surface.

Rebecca had several messages from Ian. He wanted to talk. He wanted to meet. He wanted to run his tongue down the inside curve of her thigh and deep into--

Flushed, she turned over the phone and fanned her face. Before she could return to the salacious message, a knock came from the door.

She pulled her limp, messy hair away from her face as she went to get the door.

There standing in the dimly lit hallway stood Ian Lang in all of his perfection. His deep set brown eyes drank her in, roaming and savoring every part of her like he was mentally undressing her. She, herself, couldn't stop herself from doing the same. The bulge of his muscles straining at the sleeves of his shirt. His large hands. His toned long legs barely covered by his short running shorts and the bulge in those shorts leaving very little to the imagination.

"I was running in the neighborhood and felt this pull to you." He said breathlessly, stepping into her apartment. "I couldn't help myself."

Not sure if she tried to pull him closer or stop him, she found her hand on his rock hard chest, feeling the study thrum of his heart.

His hands were on her waist as she slipped that hand behind his neck, clutching onto the collar of his shirt. His mouth was on hers, rough and hot. His tongue sliding over her lips, down her chin and sucking on her neck as his hands worked her shirt up. His warm palms cupped her breasts. Then his hot delicious tongue was on her nipples. Teasing, sucking.

Rebecca's eyes rolled back into her head as she clutched a fist full of his hair. The steamy breath of his moan rolled across the surface of her bare breast, her body craving more.

With Ian's mouth still tightly clamped to her nipple, he picked her up and marched her back to her bedroom as if he'd done it a thousand times.

His thin lips traversed over her stomach and down to her panty line. Pulling the elastic down with his teeth, he exposed the wet throbbing between her legs. She never did have to read the rest of his message to find out what he wanted to do to her as his tongue dipped inside her moist folds and came back up to flick against her clitoris. Her hips arched up with the pleasure, bringing her closer to his awaiting mouth. His tongue fucking her like she'd never experienced before. Her moans grew louder and louder. She orgasmed hard against him; legs shaking with the sheer ecstasy and pleasure of his tongue against her.

Once she caught her breath, only craving round two, ready to feel the weight of him inside her, he gently patted her thigh and said "see you around" and showed himself out as she lied in her own fluids.

"The fuck?" She called after him, but he didn't return.

With a renewed fury, she returned to the dating app and began swiping until she found a new guy. Percy Johnson. He wasn't quite as muscled as Ian, but appeared tall in all of his pictures. Beautiful smile. Wide shoulders. Skin the same lushness as night. He looked like a gentle giant, a true prince charming.

And another, Gray Perkkins. Cleanly shaven head that practically shinned. Eyes the color of sea glass and arms the size of trees. He stood in front of his nice cars and nice boat and nice life.

And yet another, Matthew Anderson. Perhaps a bit on the short side but all of his pictures showed him out in the sun. Enjoying the beach. Enjoying the dog park. Enjoying ice cream that dribble down into his neatly kept beard. He seemed like the nice boy next door.

She added all of their names to the notebook.

Donning her best yoga pants (truthfully the only clean ones) and a sweatshirt that said "This is my people avoiding shirt," she headed out the door and down the street to her favorite coffee shop.

"This is for the beautiful and most magnificent Rebecca." The barista announced as she entered and handed her a cup of coffee. His caramel skin and dashing beard seemed familiar, but it all clicked when she read his name badge, "Matthew."

"Thanks." She mumbled into her cup as he dipped down and pecked her check. It could only be a coincidence, right?

"I've been waiting all morning for you." He slipped his arm around her waist and held her close. "I made it just how you like it."

"Oh, um..."

"Becca! My goddess!"

She turned toward the voice to see the tallest man she'd ever seen. Had to be close to seven feet tall and could not be mistaken for anyone else other than the handsome Percy.

"There you are my love! I've been looking everywhere for you." He bent down and brushed his lips against hers in the most sensual way, completely ignoring Matthew. That kiss alone sent a roaring heat through her body, making her most sensitive parts shiver in yearning for his touch.

And if it weren't for her chiming phone, she might have let him take her right then and there, even with all of these witnesses. But instead she used her phone as an excuse to step away from the two of them as they finally acknowledged one another's presence. Glancing down at the screen, she found several notifications from an unknown number.

"My love burns for only you."

"Who are these other challengers?"

"You need no other. I can provide for you."

A notification from her bank popped up that she recently received a large sum of money from a Gray Perrkins. Logging into her bank's app, she practically fainted right in the middle of the sidewalk as she saw that $20,000 had been sent to her from "a secret admirer" the footnote said.

What was happening?

"Hey babe, Rebecca!" Ian waved as he ran across the street, narrowly being missed by a car, to be by her side. He jogged in place as he spoke. "I didn't think you'd be up already after this morning." He winked. "Maybe we can head back to your place and..." he slowly, sensually licked his lips.

"Oh god! No. Yes! No, I mean no! I have to. I need. I have a thing I gotta do."

Dropping her coffee, spilling all over his shoes, she spun around and ran back to her apartment with each one of her new suitors in tow.


The notebook's powers never seemed to do much good. But I must say that Rebecca slamming the door and sliding the deadbolt as the young men practically smushed their faces against the glass to get a glance at her was a first for me. She slapped the notebook down on the table and gave the fiercest of glares, "take it back."

I didn't know if it was that I'm a glutton for punishment or simply enjoy this chaotic turn of events, but with the most impish smirk I could muster, I said, "I don't know if you can afford my fee."


L. M. Williams

I'm a self-published author that enjoys writing fantasy/supernatural novels and occasionally dabble in poetry and realistic fiction. In my spare time I'm writing, a freelance artist or annoying my cat. "Rising Stars" is my first novel.

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