Get to Know D V Hent

.V. Hent is the pen name for the erotic author of If You Don't Tell and the upcoming book, Valentine.

Originally from the Midwest, it wasn't until he moved to Houston, TX in 2005, that he began actively writing short stories. After submitting his stories to several online websites and receiving praise, he decided to venture towards traditional publishing. That all came to a halt when the queries he sent we often never returned or simply rejected. Attending several writing classes, he decided to focus on making a name for himself and going the self-publishing route. Now the CEO of Naughty Ink Press, he loves both the responsibility and freedom of owning his own imprint.

With his first book now published, D.V. spends most of his free time promoting his book, connecting with readers and writing the follow up to If You Don't Tell as well as his second book, Valentine.

AAMBC Author Interview

Inside Look: D.V. Hent






What made you get into writing?

I've been writing ever since I was in the second grade. My teacher, Mrs. Marshall read us stories about Greek tragedies and from that point on, I read everything that I could get my hands on…including my mother's romance novels. I actually stopped writing when I was in high school. I went to a primarily white school and my teacher would regularly put up inside of her class what she thought was well done-- somehow I always found myself in that elite company. Since I was one of three black kids taking college prep, I figured that hey, I was safe. Well, one period, we were tasked with writing a poem and to make a long story short, she took my poem, along with a few others, and put it on a board in the main hallway. Needless to say, I had to do a lot of fighting for the rest of the semester with all of the black kids who'd said I'd sold out for being smart.

Embarrassed, I just stopped writing. For about 7 years, I didn't write a thing. It wasn't until I read the back of an Eric Jerome Dickey book that said, "If you have the gift, use it" and after I ventured into some things "alternative" that my zeal for writing returned. Now, all I do is write.

What made you want to write a novel called, If You Don't Tell?

The title for If You Don't Tell was thought of long before the book even existed. It was a Melvin Riley song that I liked and basically it was about sneaking around with some guy's woman…go figure right? Anyway, I kind of didn't like where our erotica was going because I felt like it was lacking the romance aspect. That's not a shot against anyone, but I felt like gratuitous sex could still be had as long as there was a plot, so I wrote If You Don't Tell.

In addition to that, I felt like communication is the one thing missing from a great deal of relationships, so I scripted a 'what if' story. What if people had these fantasies, indulged in them and didn't tell their partners? What if someone found out and decided to get what they wanted? Age old questions brought together with a new age twist.

Do you have any other novels coming out soon?

Yes. I have a book called Valentine. It's about an escort that moonlights as a contracted killer. You may be saying, "Hmmm, sounds like a lot of gratuitous sex!" And perhaps you're right! But first and foremost, I write books where the story supports the heated, passionate, mind-blowing sex and not the other way around. The plot should never be sacrificed for the sex.

Getting back to Valentine. She is a loner by nature because of the jobs she has, but ends up befriending her neighbor-- who brings more trouble than she's worth. I am currently finishing up the book and I plan and pray to have it ready by the National Black Book festival.

What projects are you currently working on?

Well, since everyone else has a sequel, I figured 'Why not me!" Because If You Don't Tell was almost 600 pages when I originally finished it, I decided to chop it down and turn it into two stories rather than one. I mean, who wants to read a 600 page erotic romance by a guy who no one has ever heard of? How much sex can he possibly write?? The answer-- not nearly enough to keep a 600 page book interesting. Other than Valentine and the next part of If You Don't Tell, I'm just trying to get my name out there.

When you’re not writing, what are you up to?

Research. Because I deal with what black people call "alternative lifestyles", sometimes I'm forced to get my hands dirty. Not that I mind, of course, but I'm all about realism. Men, like myself, tend to have fantasies about how two women get down and what we see happening in our heads isn't always the way it is. So I have to be real with not only myself, but with the people who read erotica. I mean I would hate for someone to write about the things I do and instead of research, they just make up the first thing that comes to their mind. I'm a voyeur for the truth!

When I'm not forcing myself to do more research, I like to read, spend time with the family, cook and play video games.

What has been the most rewarding part of being a published author?

The politically correct answer would be that having my own business and the struggle uphill has made me humble, but that's not me. In all honesty, the most rewarding thing to me? That's easy… the fans! When I'm not D.V., I work, I hustle and I deal with the things that God has divined that I deal with. As D.V., knowing that there are people in your corner because you write something they enjoy is probably the single greatest feeling of accomplishment I've had yet. I like to be as humble as I can, but when someone tells me that they enjoyed my book, I feel like I just walked into a stadium filled with 100, 000 people and they are all screaming for me-- and that's just one fan! The greatest rewards are usually the most simple.

What advice would you give up and coming authors?

Life will always find a way to get in your path. Work, kids, significant others will all eat away at your time, but like my mother always said, "The best things come to those who make them." Take control over your life and take responsibility over your existence. God didn't make us to fail, he allowed us to choose our paths. The funny thing about choice is what we choose to make ourselves? Do you choose to let circumstance dictate your life or do you make your life what you want it to be. I learned that not everyone can be a winner, but no one is ever a loser. So in essence, set a goal, make a plan to achieve that goal and never look back.

Exclusive Readings

CHAPTER 9


Laela


January 15th (Sunday)


There were two things that I hated more than anything in the world: a slow shift and a long night. I was having a long night and unfortunately, it was impossible to have one without the other. With hardly any laboring patients, the floor was so quiet that I could hear the punch-in clock ticking.

Ordinarily I hated day/night shift rotation scheduling, but knowing that Niya and a few of the other nurses were suffering with me made my burden seem a little less heavy to carry.

When we all arrived at around 7:00 p.m., the floor was chaotic as usual. Even though the board was moderately heavy, reading only 12 patients on the floor, with four more coming during the night, most of the nurses were ready to give report and leave. I received report from Sandra, a nurse I knew from days, and began writing down all the things I needed for my two patients and began my shift.

Before midnight had arrived, half of the patients had gone to postpartum, and with two out of the four incoming being redirected to others hospitals, we were left with six working nurses to take care of the six remaining patients. As fate would have it, neither of my patients were delivered, but Shanti Patel, the night charge nurse, gave one of them to Michelle Harris, one of the three black nurses working tonight who was lucky enough to have delivered both her patients.

By 2:30 a.m., the last of the triage patients were discharged, and with the rest of them sleeping, the only sounds that could be heard were those of the sanitation crew mopping the floor. With the night being so slow, Shanti allowed us to chat around the nurses’ desk, which was typically frowned upon; especially with the things we talked about.

As always when she was around, Michelle started it off. Just a few years older than me, she’d done more explicit things than I could ever dream of doing and usually had pictures to prove it. She didn’t have the ideal shape, looking more like a pear each time I saw her, but she was full of life and lust, which I believed offset any physical beauty she lacked. Whenever we listened to her stories, she always tried to whisper, but she was as boisterous as they came, which usually made her stories all that more interesting. Like children at a campfire, we’d hang onto every word she spoke. With the luxury of being single and the only one of the floor who openly admitted bisexuality, her escapades were usually raunchy and recent.

“-- so he went down on me, right, and I was lovin’ it, right. This man ate pussy like it was the last scrap of food on the planet. I mean I’m a big girl, but that boy put me in the fetal position several times. So now I’m hot and bothered, I want some dick. I tell him to take off his pants and when he does, out plops the smallest thing I’ve ever seen!” Michelle admitted in her typical energetic fashion. We all erupted in laughter, but Shanti looked over to let us know that she wouldn’t tolerate anymore outbursts. However, Michelle continued like she either hadn’t seen or didn’t care. “So I’m like what you gone do with that? That little thing ain’t even large enough to freshen up my breath!”

“You did not tell him that! That is so hurtful!” Dawn exclaimed. She was one of the two white nurses in the group and was also very single. From her long blond hair and green eyes, to her country accent and her inability to talk about sex like we did, she carried her own personal halo. To me, she was the embodiment of the wholesome southern belle, but when it came to sex, she listened more fervidly than the rest of us.

“I sure as hell did. Told him he could eat this, but he couldn’t beat this. Not tonight.” She snapped her fingers and started us up all over again. We all snickered, trying to hold back the laughter. I wasn’t sure I could hold back, so I bit on my finger.

“He knows what it is. There ain’t nothin’ less than the lucky number seven that can satisfy all this.”

“I know what you mean, girl.” Teniyah interjected. “I had the same thing happen to me in college. He was cute as hell and I really liked the guy, but when I saw how small it was I was pissed. All that fine mixed with all that disappointment. I mean he put so much effort into it that I tried to cum, but all he really did was tickle the outside.”

“So you married him,” I blurted out and fell over, quietly laughing on my way to the floor. The other girls covered their mouths, but most laughed just as hard as I did.

“Aw, see. Why you gotta go there? Now I’m gonna have to go get my box cutter. I didn’t want to cutcha, but now I have to. And my hubby is not small! You know what? I’ll be telling Franklin what you said when I get home. We‘re gonna cut yo’ ass up together, do it family style.”

“That’s funny. I always heard black guys had humongous thingies. Is that true or just a stereotype?” Terra said. Like Dawn, she was snowflake white, but she was far from single and within a few months of working here, found herself a doctor. They were engaged six months after they met, and with the size of the rock she had on her finger, I was surprised she didn’t always come to work wearing a sling.

Michelle chuckled. “Let me tell you something, sweetie. I’ve slept with men all over the spectrum. Usually, black men have most of them beaten, but that don’t mean nothin’. I could say that based on my experiences that Hawaiian guys have them all beat. The only Hawaiian guy that I’d ever been with had a dick so big and thick that I think he broke both of my fallopian tubes and maybe cracked an ovary, okay? But I won’t say that because then I’d be stereotyping. I love my black men, but GOD didn’t bless everyone just because of their skin color.”

Kim Huang, our only Asian nurse, finally spoke up in her perfectly annunciated English, “I have only been with one person in my life and that is my husband. In my country, being with anyone outside your race is usually considered disrespectful, but being in this country has made me a little curious to what is out there.”

“Wow,” I said. “The only man you’ve ever been with is your husband? I don’t think I like those odds.” We all looked around and agreed, even Dawn, who I swore was a virgin.

“Aw, Poo-Poo,” Michelle said. Poo-poo was Michelle’s nickname for Kim, though I don’t know where on earth she got it from. “Do you want to know what it’s like to be with a black man? Miss Michelle is gonna hook you up.” She got up from the desk and grabbed her oversized bag and pulled out a portable DVD player. After placing it on the desk, she smiled and pushed play. As soon as the movie began, all of us watched in awe as a man whose erect penis stood halfway up his abdomen began punishing the poor black girl underneath him. She cried in ecstasy or pain, I’m not sure which, at his constant barrage of dick missiles.

I looked over at Dawn, who looked longingly at the screen, then at Kim who seemed completely mortified, but Michelle was enjoying every moment of it, practically clapping to the soundtrack of the movie.

“Hey, girls, I was just wondering what you were--” Shanti never finished the sentence as she came to the desk and saw what we’d all been watching. She stood staring at the DVD screen a few moments before speaking. “Oh my goodness! Oh, dear. Um, Terra, I, uh, just wanted you to know your patient needs help ambulating to the bathroom. Um, can you help her-- her to the, uh, bathroom?” But at no time did Shanti take her eyes away from the screen. After Terra left, the room was once again filled with the sounds of two bodies slapping forcefully together, porn influenced music, and the occasional grunts and moans that movies like this provided.

Twenty-one minutes later, the movie ended. We stopped it short of “our hero” expelling his unborn children all over her, but everyone already understood what was about to happen.

Shanti was the first to walk away, looking a little flustered as she breezed by me. She was so red that I’d swear it was sunburn if it weren’t almost four in the morning.

Teniyah was the first to speak up. “Are you always that horny that you need to keep a flick nearby?”

“No, but I did a fun party earlier today and you’ve gotta have visuals,” Michelle responded.

Next, it was Kim’s turn to speak. “So, are all black guys that--large?”

“Only the blessed ones,” Michelle chirped.

“It ain’t lucky to have a dick that big. I tell you what, if my man was that big, he wouldn’t be hittin’ this.” Terra said.

“It was very interesting,” said Dawn. “I think it’s time for me to go on break.” And she rushed off.

Kim turned to Michelle. “Thank you for showing me. I now realize how much safer I am with my husband.”

Michelle laughed. “Sex Ed 101 has now concluded. Ladies, it’s been a pleasure.” Then, like Dawn, she decided to go on break.

“Why are looking at me like that?” I whispered to Teniyah. I felt like she could see through my scrubs as she smiled at me.

“I’m horny,” she whispered back into my ear. “I want you to meet me somewhere. We’re going to take our break together.”

The butterflies were back.



Forty-five minutes later, we were taking our break in an available room.

We’d entered the room, kept the lights off, locked the door and the kissing began immediately after that. We kissed all the way to the electric bed, which was raised to its highest level, per hospital rules.

With the exception of New Year’s, I’d only had sex with Teniyah twice and since one of them was spur of the moment, it didn’t really count. We’d go shopping and somehow we’d end up at another hotel. I wanted to plan these escapades out, but Niya was too spontaneous and I was enjoying the sex more than I’d led her to believe.

“If we--get caught--, we’ll--lose our--jobs.” I managed to get out the whole sentence between our lips smashing against each other’s face. “I like--this--job.”

She pulled back. “We won’t get caught if you learn to be quiet.”

“I’ll let the bed down.” I was breathing heavily with anticipation and pulled my lips away from her invading tongue to let her know what I wanted to do.

“Don’t waste your time.” She hoisted me up onto the bed and yanked my scrub pants down to my ankles. “No panties?” She looked at me and I smiled shyly.

“Needed to wash my thongs,” I admitted, but that didn’t stop her from pulling my bound legs up over the bed and dining on my nectar.

Between the first time we’d been together and this one, she’s gotten supremely better. She made no mistakes, rhythmically fingering me, and continuing her sampling of Lae. I wanted to scream, to shout to the world how much I loved what she was doing to me, but I was forced into complete silence until I began grabbing the covers off the bed and whispered, “Niya, I love it. I love it-- Here I cum, dammit. Here--I--Cum!”

I tried to keep silent, but the pressure was too unbearable. As my temple throbbed to release my torment, she quickly moved her tongue from my clitoris to pushing it inside of me. What was once torment soon became an eruption of curses.

My head curled up to my knees and a lion‘s roar was released from the depths of my body. “Fuck!” I screamed. “Fuck me!” I couldn’t hold back. The stunt she pulled increased my orgasm what seemed like tenfold and I couldn’t control what came out of my mouth. I pulled in as much air as I could after having expelled so much so quickly.

“You like?” she asked.

“Where did you learn that?” I was still trying to catch my breath. “Where the hell did you learn that from?”

She smiled. “I’m not telling. Okay, pull your pants up. After a scream like that, security might be coming.”

I pulled my pants up and as we snuck out the room, we saw and heard no one. “I don’t see anything, do you?”

“Nope,” she responded.

We snuck out of the room and walked into our break room. I collapsed on Cookie while Niya began to pace around the room.

I lifted up my head from the couch. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something that I didn’t want to happen and it happened anyway?”

“Okay, so what’s up?”

She paused. “I don’t know. I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together lately. I mean other than the sex. I just wanted to thank you for, you know, going this far with me. I never figured that it’d turn into this, and Lae, all of it has been such a rush.” She gave me a hug, which brought back the butterflies all over again.

“It’s been intense, but if the guys found out, I don’t think they’d approve.” I tried to laugh, but the only thing that came out was a half baked chortle. “But it’s a trial. If it hadn’t been for you, I might’ve never found out some of the things about myself that I know now.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way, too.”

“So this is our learning experience, our self-education class.”

Then, she kissed me on my forehead. “Thanks for going down on your girl last week!” We both laughed, but I knew that she wasn’t just joking. After everything I’d learned from her, she came a great deal quicker than I had. “But seriously, Lae, I’m glad you did this with me.”

“Niya, don’t get all mushy on me now. You’re helping me practice for you know, the thing with Quinton. We have fun and we get back to our lives.”

She frowned as she looked at me. “You make this sound kind of dirty. Is that what you think? Do you really think I’m your secret affair?”

“It’s not that and you know it. I just don’t want us to get too far ahead of ourselves,” I lied.

Ever since the first time, all I could think about was the next time we’d be together. I wasn’t exactly sure if it was the thrill of something different or simply the sex, but I didn’t like the way sex with Niya dominated my thoughts.

“Truth is Lae, that I think I might be bi.”

For a brief second, I involuntarily held my breath, waiting to hear the punchline, but it never came.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

She’d said the “bi” word, but that was Niya. I wasn’t sure what I’d been feeling, but I knew it wasn’t that I was bi. I couldn’t be, could I?

“So are you going to say something to Franklin?”

“Why would I do that?” She asked, looking at me strangely.

She walked over and sat down on Cookie, right next to my head. She put my head on her lap and began to run her fingers through my hair.

For a brief second, I wanted to tell her everything. I could’ve told her how awful I felt about leaving Quinton out, but how exhilarating the rush of sex was. I could’ve told her how our intimacy brought out all of these feelings that didn’t yet have names. I could’ve told her that I didn’t know what the hell I was feeling and that I was more confused about myself with her revelation. I could’ve told her that maybe it was time for us to stop, but instead I smiled… and said nothing.



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If You Don't Tell


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