1224 Confessions

Continued from Don't Believe The Hype

It's official. My new book, my memoir is available in bookstores across America, Hiding In Hip Hop - On The Down Low in the Entertainment Industry from Music to Hollywood.

I would like to thank all of the people who ordered the book and sent me the many well wishes for writing my story, our story. Thank You! For those of you who have not gotten your copy, get yours soon, it is an amazing and powerful story, and definitely one that will be a continuous discussion in our community and world years from now.

Secondly, I would like to graciously thank SOHH.com - Felicia, Erik, Rondell, and the entire SOHH.com family. Thank you for being brave and allowing an important discussion to take place on the premiere and largest Hip-Hop website. You all are brave and courageous for being ground breakers in not being afraid of allowing a discussion to take place regarding what so many of us know exists in Hip-Hop - a prominent gay subculture.

Although some of the comments have been disparaging, it shows why it's imperative that the black, Latin, white, Asian, and all colors in between talk about homosexuality in Hip Hop.

I purposely started the blog with my sexual tryst with a pro-basketball athlete because I wanted the readers to understand that a prevalent down low culture does exists. Many men are afraid to be who they really are because of the backlash they will receive from their communities and families.

For centuries we have been afraid to listen to gay men and women who have been activists, leaders, and prominent voices in our lifetime - James Baldwin, Bayard Rustin, Langston Hughes, Alice Walker, and Me'Shell Ndege’Ocello.

These men and women have helped changed not only the dynamics in their respective careers, but in the world. They spoke out bravely and boldly through their works and the world listened.

So, here we are in the twenty-first century, yet, we are unable to have an educated and civilized discussion about homosexuality in Hip-Hop because we are afraid that “they” (the fags, homos, and butt-chasers so many of you vehemently called us on the comments section) are spreading diseases, deceiving women, and creating havoc on the black community.

True, some down low and gay men are doing that, however, what about the rise of teenage pregnancy? What about the epidemic of young people of color dropping out of high school? What about the disturbing numbers of young men and women, as well as black and Latin women, and gay men, who are becoming infected with HIV daily?

Yes, we need a solution. We need to stop talking and take action. We are dying rapidly and unnecessarily. I lost my mother and two brothers to the AIDS virus. None of them were gay. None of them were victims as a result of a gay person. They died from a deadly disease that we are afraid to openly talk about in our community because no one is addressing the issue and no one wants to talk about sex and sexuality.

Sure, we can rap and rhyme about it all day long in Hip-Hop â€" He was so sweet, she want to lick the rapper, like a lollipop. Or what about, she's my girl in the day, and you're my girl at night. And then there's, I got ten bad bitches, actin' retarded, I'm tryin' to meet a few new ones…Hang with me, the first thing you do is get stuck, Take you somewhere, later on you'll get fucked.

I love Hip-Hop. I love rap. But, let's be real people, we can and we have to do better. If we allow ourselves to be degraded and demeaned, then of course that is what you will get in return. If you speak up and speak out, like the intelligent and powerful sisters at Spelman College, then you can accomplish something. You can create a movement.

I only want for us, all of us in Hip-Hop, to come together, unified, and as a collective consciousness, because whether or not you like it, there are lots of gay men in this business. We are all up in Hip-Hop. And many of you are emulating our style, our creativity, our contribution, and our gift to this culture. So, at the end of the day, we are the same.

Posted by Terrance Dean at 10:00 AM | Permalink

Continued from Signs Of The Times

In my book, Hiding In Hip-Hop, I talk about something that has been well-known in the industry, COVER GIRLS! You may refer to them as ‘beards,’ but I like to call them COVER GIRLS. Why? Because these women know the role they have to play in being with a down low celebrity in the entertainment business.

You’ve seen or heard of them. They are beautiful, curvaceous, and drop-dead gorgeous. They tend to be former models â€" print, runway, and lingerie. They can put any woman to shame. And they serve as the perfect cover for a man who is living a double life.

I know because when I worked at MTV in Production Events I often got e-mails and calls from publicists looking to set-up their female clients as dates and arm candy for a male celebrity attending many of our red carpet events. Or, I would get the lists and read the names of the women who were serving as dates for a male celebrity. When I saw the men they were to sashay down the red carpet with, I knew they were COVER GIRLS.

These women know their role. They are to be flirtatious, attentive, and caring to the man they are with. They are to pose seductively next to their down low man. All to give the illusion that the man is somehow a player, a ladies man. It’s to help dispel any rumors about his sexuality, or prevent any from starting.

When I used to live in LA I met many COVER GIRLS. Then I was introduced to many of them who served as girlfriends to rap’s elite. Some COVER GIRLS have been able to parlay their relationships with high profile celebrities into marriages.

I mention COVER GIRLS and the entertainment industry because so many women today are COVER GIRLS and do not even know it. They are in relationships with men who they think are committed to them. These men are deceivers and liars and many women fall for it. They are victims of men who will do anything to keep their cover.

As you are reading your favorite magazine, watching your favorite entertainment news program, or visiting blogs, keep in mind that ninety percent of what you read and see is false. Only ten percent has some truth. The entertainment machine is big, vast, and all about illusions. It’s all about making people believe something that isn’t true. That’s why in my book, Hiding In Hip- Hop, I mention Hollywood is all about illusions. You can be anything or anybody you want. And it’s the job of the people who work in this business to make sure you believe that.

In the words of Public Enemy, Don’t Believe The Hype.

Check back tomorrow for Terrance's last words.

Terrance Dean is the Author of “Hiding In Hip Hop â€" On The Down Low in the Entertainment Industry from Music to Hollywood”

www.myspace.com/hidinginhiphop.com

Posted by Terrance Dean at 10:00 AM | Permalink

Continued from Ask The Right Questions, Get The Right Answers

It’s official. Today is the day my new book, my memoir is available in bookstores across America, Hiding In Hip Hop — On The Down Low in the Entertainment Industry from Music to Hollywood.

I would like to thank all of the people who ordered the book and sent me the many well wishes for writing my story, our story. Thank You! For those of you who have not gotten your copy, get yours soon, it is an amazing and powerful story, and definitely one that will be a continuous discussion in our community and world years from now.

Man, I swear that nearly every woman has lost her mind after J.L. King’s book, On The Down Low, dropped a few years ago. It sparked a controversy within the black community, and scared the hell out of black women. And for good reason.

But, down low behavior, is nothing new to the gay community. It was and is something we have always been familiar with — men who sleep with men but have wives and girlfriends.

In actuality I have always slept with other men who had wives or girlfriends. Even when I had girlfriends I had sex with men on the side. Yup, I was confused about my sexuality. Yup, it was wrong to be in relationships with women and not tell them about my sexuality. I struggled to be in a monogamous relationship with a woman. I did have a few serious one-on-one relationships with women hoping that it was my cure, my way of leaving the down low life. I actually write about it in my book, Hiding In Hip Hop (Atria/Simon & Schuster), May 2008.

However, I grew up in the black church and I was forced into learning that homosexuality is a sin. I tried to repress my sexual urges for men, but the more I prayed and denied myself, the more I yearned for the touch and feel of a man. And while the minister yelled and screamed from the pulpit about the sins of man, somehow the act of homosexuality was far much worse than any other sin. I would find out years later, as an adult, that no one sin is greater than the other.

I’ve also learned that there are many more down low men than I knew. I thought I was in a bubble, along with the men I was sleeping with. It was just us, no other men like us, but then an explosion happened and the cover was blown. Down low men were everywhere.

Women often ask me if there is some look, sign, or dress that down low men share to identify one another. Unfortunately, there is not. There is no secret code or word. There is nothing that I can pinpoint as a significant indicator of how down low men identify one another.

However, I can share that there are some things women can do to be aware and conscious of a man they feel is sleeping with another man.

First, down low men are very good deceivers. Better yet, they are exceptional liars. Down low men know what to say, when to say it, and how to say it. They can string a woman along and make her feel like she is a queen. But, if you are smart and savvy, you can spot and see through the lies and deception. For example, if your man begins to introduce you to a slew of men, none of whom you never met before, and these new “buddies” never seem to be around after two or three months, then you should start to question these relationships. Ask your man what happened to your man’s new friends and why they never come around. You have a right to raise questions.

Second, a down low man has multiple e-mail accounts, possibly a secondary cell phone, and knows your schedule like clockwork. I’ve been with men who tell me, “My girl is going to be at work this weekend. Let’s hook-up then.” I’ve also been with these men when their woman has called. “Hey baby,” he says. “Yeah, I’m just chilling right now.” I am sitting right next to him while she thinks her man is at home alone.

Ladies, I am not a fan of snooping around, but you have a right to investigate if you suspect him of dipping out on you. When you log onto the computer and you see several different screen names, he’s hiding something from you. If you notice a second cell phone and you don’t have the number for it, he is definitely hiding something from you. But, most importantly, if your gut instincts tell you something is not right, then it probably isn’t. If you accuse him of cheating and sleeping with another man, he will deny it. Trust me, a down low man will never admit to sleeping with another man, especially to his woman. You will have to catch him in the act, and it won’t be easy.

Third, when your man introduces new sexual positions, especially anal sex, and him wanting to have fingers or a dildo inserted inside him, don’t be afraid to ask where he learned or saw this. I am sure he did not wake up one day and decide he wanted to try this. He has been doing this before and, sure, he may be a freak, and into all sorts of kinky things, but you should question these behaviors. Again, this is something I wrote about in my book, Hiding In Hip Hop. Don’t do something you are uncomfortable doing, especially if you have concerns about his sexuality. Your love for him is not based on the type of sex you are willing or not willing to engage in. Love and protect yourself. It’s your body, and your life.

Last, don’t be afraid to speak up and say something. You are more important than you care to think. Having a man in your life is great, but if you have questions, and speculations about his sexuality, new friends, and suspicious lifestyle, then you deserve it to yourself to be careful. Love life and, more importantly, love yourself.

This has been a Terrance Dean advisory for the love and safety of women.

Tomorrow Terrance has more gems to drop.

Terrance Dean is the Author of “Hiding In Hip Hop — On The Down Low in the Entertainment Industry from Music to Hollywood”

www.myspace.com/hidinginhiphop.com

Posted by Terrance Dean at 10:00 AM | Permalink

Continued from Making It A Family Affair

I was feeling jubilant over my relationship with Preston. Things seemed to be moving in a positive direction. I began to let my own guard down more with him. He was that captivating for me. Preston was very attentive, a listener, a great conversationalist, and a phenomenal lover. I couldn’t ask for anything more. I didn’t, and I would pay for it soon enough.

Over the next few months we continued seeing one another frequently. I would fly to his city. Attend his games. Meet his children. And, a few more family members. Preston and I were becoming more and more comfortable with one another. But, something was always nagging at me. Something about the timing of my appearances of when I could come to town, and how we never stayed at his home. Each visit I was in a five-star hotel. Now don’t get me wrong I like living the highlife, however I did want to wake up with Preston in his bed, in his home.

While I was anticipating my next trip to visit Preston I called him, like I did after each of his team’s practices. He always immediately answered my call. It was clockwork. This time however another voice was on the other end. A soft voice. A woman’s voice.
“Hello?” I said unsurely thinking I dialed the wrong number.
“Hello,” the woman repeated.
“Uhm, may I speak with Preston?” I asked. Maybe this was the woman he had on the side. This was his cover girl I thought.
“He’s not here. Who’s calling?”
My mind is racing. Who is this woman? Preston never lets anyone answer his phone. It’s literally stuck to him like glue.
“Oh, this is Terrance.”
“Oh, hello Terrance. This is his wife,” she said. “Preston’s told me all about you.”
WIFE!! WIFE!! I kept repeating in my head. Preston never told me he was married. He never said he had a wife. And he told her all about me. WHAT THE FUCK!!!
“Heeeey,” I sang trying to play it off as if she and I had been longtime acquaintances. “How are you? Could you tell him to give me a call when he can?”
“No problem. It was nice to finally talk to you,” she said and hung up.

I was heated. Pissed. Fuming. My heart was racing. My mind swirling. Then the gut-wrenching truth sank in. It sat in the pit of my stomach. Churning.

Then I remembered something a man I used to sex told me, and I wrote about it in my book, Hiding In Hip Hop, “If you don’t ask your man the right questions, then you will not get the right answers.”

I never asked Preston if he was married, and he didn’t feel compelled to tell me. I didn’t ask. For one, I never saw a wedding band. Preston never wore his ring. I knew and know of a lot of down low men who don’t wear their wedding bands. Even heterosexual men who are having affairs take their wedding bands off.

Secondly, I never questioned why I didn’t spend the night at his home. I thought about it, but I was caught up in the whirlwind of the romance. I didn’t look for the clues of pictures of the women in his home. I assumed from the pictures I did see that the women were relatives. I didn’t think that anyone of them could have been his wife. His home also reflected his style and taste. I never noticed a woman’s presence. But, oh, this wasn’t his primary home, it was a second home.

I learned all of these things once Preston and I did have a conversation. And, yes, we did have a serious conversation. One thing I cannot and will not condone is sleeping with a married man. I have done it in the past, but it was when I was living a down low life. I was so desperate to be with someone and I didn’t allow my morals or values to dictate to me what I did. However, I am not that person any longer. I am no longer a down low man. I am gay.

Preston and I no longer communicate. The relationship immediately ceased. I thought about his wife. I thought about the deception and lies he does to her, and did to me. Don’t get me wrong, I was at fault as well. I admit my downfalls, and shortcomings.

You know, I have learned something really powerful. It is that all good things do come to an end. That no matter how wonderful and sweet the honeymoon, and how amazing things seem to begin, they all fade. And with that, Preston ended. For both the good of he and I, as well as his wife. There was no good to come of that situation. He is now a faded memory, a faded picture as Case sang so eloquently, "Faded pictures of a distant past..."

Check back tomorrow to see what's in Terrance's future

Posted by Terrance Dean at 10:00 AM | Permalink

Continued from You Going To Answer That?

Let’s get something straight right now. When something is not right, and I get this nagging gut feeling about someone I am with, I follow that instinct. The thought just doesn’t appear out of nowhere.

So, when Preston’s phone kept ringing through the night, and he kept leaving the room to have conversation, I knew something was up. My first thought was maybe it was his coach, agent, or one of his teammates. Then, it stung me like a hundred bees. Preston has not told me everything. He is holding something back. We’ve only been together for two nights, and this was nothing serious, so I had no right to question him. WRONG!!! I had every right.

I did just that. I asked him if there was something I needed to know- more importantly, if he had a family. “I have two children. They live with their mother. I see them on the off-seasons.”

He didn’t offer anything else. I took that and I accepted what Preston told me. But, of course I knew he was sleeping with women. Preston is a professional sports athlete. He is a basketball player. He’s on the road and travels a lot. Women are always throwing themselves at him. He told me about the many women who hand the pussy over on a platter. Besides, he has to keep his cover.

So, maybe the person calling was his woman. His girl that serves as his cover, but unbeknownst to her, she is unaware of Preston’s lifestyle.

I have been with many men who have women on the side, especially in this entertainment game. When I was a down low man I had my girl, and my man on the side. It was nothing out of the ordinary. It is part of the program. Most down low men in the entertainment business will not date another man who doesn’t have a girl. A down low man needs the assurance that the man he is sleeping with has just as much to lose as he does. Neither of us are going to run the risk of being outed, and losing our careers, family, and relationships.

With that, me and Preston continued our sex sessions strong for the entire week. I began to ignore his cell phone constantly ringing and him leaving the room to have a conversation. I just accepted it. Preston had me sprung. Yup, he sure did. Because to solidify he was serious about me and him, by the end of the week he brought me one of his personal team’s jersey.

“Here you go,” Preston said as he pulled the jersey from behind his back. “This is for you.”
“This is for me,” I said jubilant. I stared at his number. I had memorized the double-digit number from when I googled him on-line. I was going to make sure to find his number while I watched him run up and down the court.
“I want you to have it,” he said.
“WOW!” I was over the top in excitement. I immediately tried it on. I pulled it over my head and stood in front of the mirror. His smell was still lingering on it. I smoothed it out and profiled with him standing behind me. And he was standing there with that huge beautiful smile on his face.

This wasn’t the type of jersey you go into a sports store and buy off-the-rack, it was his own personal team jersey. No man had ever given me his personal jersey. Did this mean he and I were serious? Did that mean he trusted me and knew I wouldn’t say anything? Well, one thing for sure, I was hooked on Preston now. He had me and he knew it.

That weekend Preston introduced me to one of his best friends. He wasn’t an athlete, but one of his childhood friends. A cool brother and unaware of me and Preston’s relationship. Now that I was hanging with the best friend, Preston began to let his guard down further.

One day he told me to meet him downstairs in the lobby. “Ride with me,” Preston smiled sneakily.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
We pulled up to a beautiful home. As soon as the car pulled up, an older woman came through the front door. It was his mother. Preston was taking me to introduce me to her. A wonderful woman. Such a warm spirit and very loving. She readily accepted me. I was now on the “in.” I met two important people in his life.

Maybe this was love? Maybe Preston was the man of my dreams.

Check back Monday when Terrance goes deeper.

Terrance Dean is the Author of “Hiding In Hip Hop â€" On The Down Low in the Entertainment Industry from Music to Hollywood”

www.myspace.com/hidinginhiphop.com

Posted by Terrance Dean at 10:00 AM | Permalink

Continued from Stranger At My Door

Now that I have your attention â€" I hope you didn’t think I was just going to penetrate you long, hard, and deep without dropping some knowledge and inspiration on you. I really do hope you get to know me a little better than that.

Don’t worry I am going to get back to the tall, handsome â€" No! FINE, good-loving specimen of a professional athlete named Preston. But, first I want to make sure you all understand something. It’s important that everyone reading this is clear about a few things.

As I mentioned previously, I am human. Erred. Flawed. Imperfect. I have my weaknesses. I pray heartedly and I have a relationship with God. I seek to be on divine purpose each day. This journey is not easy, nor is it for the swift. It is given to those who endureth. Trust me, I endure each day. I take my time and weigh my options, opinions, and thoughts. I am not quick to rush into anything. Not unless he is my type of dude. Okay, I’m just kidding. But, I do work hard to be of service to my fellow brothers and sisters. I work diligently to empower and enlighten others on how complicated and challenging life can sometimes be and how, even though, we all fall short of the glory of God we are all still his children, His creation, and He loves each and everyone us.

Iyanla Vanzant â€" google her for those of you not familiar with her and her work. She is a powerful mother/sister and has even a more powerful message in her books. Years ago, Iyanla gave me some wonderful advice. She told me, “Folks think that once they become enlightened that they somehow do not need to continue growing, learning, and seeking to become better people. The only thing about enlightenment is that you learn better how to manage your own shit.”

Those words stuck with me, and I live by them to this day. No matter who you are and how enlightened you think you are there is still a lot of growing and learning you must continue.

Now, back to the regularly scheduled program of Confessions Of A Down Low Man.

When Preston left me in the glow of the hotel bed I could still smell his scent. It lingered on the sheets, the pillow, and on my skin. I buried my face in the bed, sniffed, and took in his lingering scent. I didn’t want to lose that moment we shared so intimately together. The entire night kept running through my mind. Preston’s naked, muscular, caramel body glistening next to mine. His tender kisses, and his massive hands caressing my body. I was feigning to touch him.

Damn, Preston was all that and he gave me all that!

In the meantime, I hoped on the computer and googled Preston. Oh you best believe I checked him out. I mean what person wouldn’t? Normally I would not have done it, but I wanted to know more about this talented basketball player. I had to find out his stats â€" height (Preston is a tall dude. I am tall, standing at 6’2, but I felt short next to his long lean muscular body). I checked his weight, rebounds, average points per game, how long he’s been playing, and other vital information.

I was impressed. Preston was on top of his game. The press liked him and he was hometown favorite. In high school and college he was an all-around favorite, traveling across the country showcasing his talented ball-handling skills. The more I discovered, the more I liked. So, I was looking forward to spending more time with this amazing basketball player.

Sure enough, later that evening Preston arrived at my hotel room. A huge smile was plastered on his face when I opened the door. My heart was racing and about to leap out of my chest. I couldn’t contain my excitement for him.

The bed was our next stop. Our naked bodies intertwined and exploring one another. I’m sucking and licking every spot I can get my mouth on. Preston’s moaning and groaning, enjoying the sensuous pleasure I am releasing with each slurping suction from my mouth. Preston returns the favor. He doesn’t stop short of making sure I experience the unrelenting pleasures of his juicy succulent lips. The tenderness in his kisses is like soft raindrops. They fall delicately all over my body â€" neck, chest, back, stomach, thighs, and my full extended erection.

Preston is it! He is the one. The man. The Don. The Prince with the magic potion. He is the sweetest thing I’ve every known â€" Lauryn Hill sang this ode to this type of man.

Once again, it’s late. We are lying naked in each other’s arms. Resting in the afterglow.

“You’re a bad boy,” Preston bellows a laugh. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”
“I hope it’s a good kind of trouble,” I look into his dancing romantic eyes.
Preston’s cell phone rings. And rings. And rings. And rings.
“You’re going to get that?” I say.
“They’ll leave a message.”
A few minutes later the cell phones rings, again. And rings. And ring. And rings.
Preston finally grabs the cell phone and pushes the talk button.
“Yeah,” he says. “Wait a minute. Hold up.” He gets out of the bed and his naked body disappears into the other room.

I stare at his rock hard ass as he walks away. He has a perfect athletic basketball body. I make a mental note, Goodness, we have way more sexing to do.

Preston saunters back into the room. His manhood is swinging from left to right. I finally notice the pained look on his face. “Everything cool?” I ask
“Yeah, it’s cool.”

As soon as he is about to climb back into bed his cell phone starts ringing again.
“What?” Preston says flustered. Again he walks out of the room. This time he is engaged in a full-fledged conversation for about ten minutes.

Another mental note flashes in my head, Something is not right. There is something definitely going on I am not aware of.

Check back tomorrow when Preston introduces Terrance to some important people.

Terrance Dean is the Author of “Hiding In Hip Hop â€" On The Down Low in the Entertainment Industry from Music to Hollywood”

www.myspace.com/hidinginhiphop.com

Posted by Terrance Dean at 10:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (11)

Continued from Hide & Seek - 'He Was Nowhere To be Found'

I couldn’t get Preston out of my head that night. I tossed and turned. Reliving every moment we shared in the club. The next day, no, the next night, couldn’t get here fast enough. Hurry, hurry, hurry. I needed to see him.

Sure enough the next night. He was there. This time he spotted me and quickly came over. He introduced himself again. ‘Preston’ he said. I smiled from ear to ear.
Preston’s large thick hands cupped mine. His touch was energetic. I felt a shock in my groin.

“How long are you in town?” Preston asked. His deep melodic voice resonated through every fiber of my body.
“How do you know I am not from here?” I looked up at him and smiled.
“I know everybody here,” he laughed. “Where are you staying?”
I tell Preston the hotel.
“This is my number,” he proceeded. “You should call me.”
I punched the digits into my cell. I pushed the send button and his phone vibrated. Preston let out a hearty laugh. “I’ll see you later.” Off he went. He dipped into the crowd and people reached out to him shaking his hand. He hugged women, kissed them on the cheek, and plopped back into the VIP section with his boys.

What did he mean by later? I wasn’t sure. I wanted to go over to the VIP section and chill with Preston and his boys. But I knew I had to play it cool. He was a man on the down low. Neither of us could let on that we were feeling each other. I know when he stood next to me I immediately gained an erection.

Once again the club emptied and I didn’t see where Preston headed. I peered through the crowds of people searching out his tall muscular body. I looked for his sexy smile and piercing eyes. I wanted to at least say goodnight to him. Hopefully touch him and say something flirty.

He was nowhere to be found, again. Although I was pissed, I did have his number. I planned to call him in the morning. Maybe invite him over to the hotel and we grab lunch, or go to the beach.

Not more than twenty minutes after I arrived at my hotel room there was a knock at my door. I figured it was my boy Clever. We always stay up late when we are out of town. Put it this way â€" we like to ride around the city, check out the sights, and, uhm…oh hell, okay, okay, we look for trouble. Damn, you happy now.

Anyway, I opened the door and there he was. Tall, broad, strong, sexy, and smiling at me. Preston strolled into my suite as if it was his own. I was in shock. My mouth dropped open, and so did every molecule and cell in my body.

I quickly closed the door. Preston didn’t say a word. Nothing. His muscular body glided into the bedroom. I followed. He unbuttoned his shirt and revealed an amazing physique. I followed suit, and, like that, me and Preston went at each other like two lovers in heat. We wanted each other badly. We explored each other’s bodies as we peeled off our clothes and strewn them throughout the room.

My gosh, Preston was ferocious in bed. His soft lips met mine. We kissed tenderly, and then passionately. Our tongues danced in each other’s mouths. We groped each other finding different and wonderful places to touch. His long hard muscle was massive. He felt wonderful in my hands.

That night Preston and I didn’t stop making love until the next day. I didn’t want to let him go. His body was perfect. We fit. Oh boy, oh boy, did we fit.

The next morning he pulled himself away from me and slid out of the bed. “I need to go,” he said as I watched his rippling muscular body hide inside his clothes. He leaned in and kissed me. “What time do you want me to come back?”

Check back tomorrow when the phone won't stop ringing and questions get asked.

Terrance Dean is the Author of “Hiding In Hip Hop â€" On The Down Low in the Entertainment Industry from Music to Hollywood”

www.myspace.com/hidinginhiphop.com

Posted by Terrance Dean at 10:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (28)

Ladies and Gentleman, allow me to introduce myself â€" my name is Terrance Dean and I am the author of the upcoming book, “Hiding In Hip Hop….On The Down Low in the Entertainment Industry from Music to Hollywood.” It is a memoir of my life as a down low/gay man in the entertainment industry.

This is not my first book. My first book is “Reclaim Your Power! A 30-Day Guide to Hope, Healing, and Inspiration for Men of Color.”

I am a man of color who is committed to the empowerment of my community. I have traveled extensively to speak at colleges, universities, and organizations to share my own inspiring and empowering story. I am a product of my community, my environment, my family, and Hip Hop.

I am human. Flawed. Erred. Imperfect. Yet, I am on the quest to be a better person - a better man. And this blog is going to show you how human I am. You will get to know me, somewhat. This is a small part of who I am. This blog will be a reflection of many of you. Always on the journey to become better. Do better. Live better.

With that, I am sharing my confessions. These confessions are things I have and am currently experiencing with men I have met within the entertainment industry. It’s my Life. Love. And relationships â€" the ones with many other down low/gay men in this business. Yes, it will be full disclosure. Graphic. Sexy. Hot. Sensual. Whew! I am getting flustered.

Last year, in an undisclosed location, okay, it’s surrounded by water, and has the most beautiful men and women you have ever seen. Did I mention beautiful luscious men?

Well, me and a good friend, “Clever” â€" he represents many industry people, especially a talented lyrical rapper who is featured on damn near every record currently out, and a balladeer who is the king of songs â€" Clever and I were chilling up in one of the hottest clubs in this city on a Friday night. It was packed from wall-to-wall. Men and women were grooving and gyrating to the beats filtering through the air.

*Here is a sidebar note about my boy Clever. He is well-known in the industry. He is very friendly, outgoing, and has a warm personality. One thing though, he always seems to attract men â€" gay and straight. I mean, I attract some men, but he always seems to attract an abundance of men. They flaunt and throw themselves at him, and many of them are the most straight heterosexual men.

Anyway, that is my boy Clever. Now back to my confession. I was at the bar getting my soda drink on and that’s when I spot him. He was across the room standing against the wall with a drink in his hand. He was bobbing his head to the Hip-Hop beats and surrounded by slew of bodacious women and physically fit men.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was absolutely gorgeous - Tall, caramel, chinky eyes, and a body that wouldn’t stop. Damn, he was fine! I felt the temperature in my body rise. Lust was speaking and its low growl was whispering in my ears.

Then he looked over in my direction and smiled. OH SHIT!!! He caught me staring at him. I blushed and quickly turned away. My heart was racing. As I slowly turned back around to see if he was still in the same spot, he was making his way across the room in my direction. With that beautiful smile plastered across his face.

I literally almost shit my pants. I feigned a smile. He brushed up next to me. My heart was going a thousands beats per minute. He ordered a drink and then turned towards me. He leaned in and extended his hand. His lips grazed my ear sending a chill through my body, and he yelled his name.

The music was too loud and I couldn’t hear him. I strained trying to understand what he was saying. I asked him to repeat his name three times. After the third time, I just nodded my head and shook his hand. “Oh, what’s up? My name is Terrance,” I said to him.
”Who are you here with?” He asked.
“I’m with my boy.” I replied. His eyes were beautiful â€" coal-like. They danced when he spoke.
“Do you want a drink?” He asked. The drink he ordered at the bar was for me.
“Thanks.” I took a sip staring into his sexy inviting eyes.

He strolled away and went back to his crew. I asked my boy Clever if he knew the beautiful specimen of a man. Clever acknowledged that he did. “That’s ‘Preston’ I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s always on the road. He plays for ________.”

Now, I am really excited. This professional athlete just approached me and how he did it was so smooth. No one noticed anything.

I continued to watch him from across the room. He raised and tipped his glass to me and smiled that perfect smile. I smiled back.

As the night got later and the patrons left the club, I noticed he and his crew departed. I searched feverishly throughout the club. Did he go to the VIP section? Nope. Did he go to the restroom? Nope. Was he upstairs? Nope. He was nowhere to be found.

I rushed to my friend Clever. “He’s gone,” I look at him desperately. “Where did he go? We have to leave now. He may be outside.” I headed for the door frantically.

Clever laughed at me. “Chill and relax,” he said. “Trust me. He will be here tomorrow night.”
I couldn’t wait until tomorrow. I wanted him now. I wanted to get to know more about this man. This fine man who sauntered over to me and made my heart flutter. Actually, I wanted to go home with him. Be with him for the night. My body was yearning for him. I was left feeling horny that night. But, as Clever said, he would be there tomorrow night.

Check back tomorrow as Preston pays Terrance a special visit.

Terrance Dean is the Author of “Hiding In Hip Hop â€" On The Down Low in the Entertainment Industry from Music to Hollywood”

www.myspace.com/hidinginhiphop.com

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