Chapter Four #2
"Or, you've never met a woman who made you want to." I included.
He shrugged. "I guess you can say that."
"See, what I mean? That's that bullshit. Y'all niggas play too many mind games and expect women to fall in line. So, you're just gonna stick your dick in random women all your life?"
"It pays the bills." His hands motioned around him at the luxury, ducked off on a private island.
"I take that as a no," I chuckled.
"I know what women expect out of me, but I don't have love to give right now, Nyne.
Shit can get complicated and that's when the lines become blurred.
I don't lead women on. When they come here, I look them in the eyes and tell them—" He cut his sentence short to set his wine glass on the countertop.
Then in one swift move, he pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arms around my waist. We were so close that I could smell the wine on his breath.
"Don't catch feelings for me. My only goal is to make you cum. I can't do shit with your heart, and if you fail to comply, that ain't on me, that's on you," he spoke boldly without batting an eye.
My breath hitched. "I understand your mission statement, and you don't have to worry about that with me, Syx. I know better than that.” I didn’t believe that but saying it out loud I was trying to convince myself the total opposite.
Our eyes locked, a searing gaze that sparked a wildfire within me.
The heat of his intense stare was almost palpable, a visible tremor in the air.
Then, the sheer weight of his massive hands pressed against my back, a grounding pressure that only fanned the flames higher, the rough texture of his skin a stark contrast to the soft fabric of my dress.
With his free hand he swiped it across my chin as his pink tongue escaped his mouth, swiping over his lips. "I'm just making sure. We're grown enough not to cross those boundaries. So, I’m sure you have no problem complying."
We talked easily over dinner—about my life, my family, and my hobbies.
Syx was a good listener, asking thoughtful questions and seeming genuinely interested in my answers.
He told me a bit about himself too—he studied psychology and human sexuality in college, and had been doing this work for eight years, and he’d never been married and wasn’t too fond of it, despite coming from a two-parent household.
"How did you get into this?" I asked. "It's not exactly a conventional career path."
Syx smiled. "No, it's not. I had a girlfriend in college who struggled with anorgasmia.
We worked through it together, and I realized I had a knack for it—for understanding women's bodies, for creating a safe space for exploration.
After we broke up, I started studying it more seriously.
I got my certifications, did my training, and eventually decided to make it my life's work. "
"And you only work with three clients a year?" I asked, probing around a little more.
"That's right," Syx said. "This work is intense—emotionally and physically. I need time between clients to recharge. And I'm fortunate enough that I can afford to be selective."
"You're living the dream of many men," I commented when the oven timer beeped.
“I don’t think of it that way though.” He responded, approaching the oven, slipping on an oven mitt, and taking out the meatloaf. A delightful aroma, enhanced by herbs, spread throughout the kitchen. The green beans were also ready now, as were the mashed potatoes.
“I take it you’ve never had a real relationship then, besides when you were in college.” Now it was my turn to mosey around his business.
“We’ve been off and on since college. It ain’t been nothin’ serious though,” he told me.
“She stuck around long enough for to be okay with your career path?” My brow rose.
“We do the same thing?” He uttered nonchalantly.
My brows raised in shock. “That’s a crazy plot twist. I take it you’re not the jealous type then.”
“It was never serious between us, so whatever she did was cool. She was though, that’s why it never worked out. She was crazy as a road lizard though, so I settled with the motions long enough, until I got rid of her ass.”
“I don’t believe that.” I chuckled.
“You don’t have to, but it’s the truth. Neither of us were looking for a commitment and when we started the dating thing, it didn’t feel right.
The only reason I called her my girlfriend back then was because she was the only girl who was decent enough to meet my parents and family.
It sounds complicated, but it was simple. ”
“I hear you,” I responded, then something dawned on me that made me pause again once more. “Hol’ on wait, please don’t take this the wrong way.”
His eyes peered over at me. “What you mean?”
“So, are you bisexual?” I spoke, barely above a whisper, as if there were other people in the kitchen with us.
His handsome face screwed up into a frown. “How the fuck you get that out of that?”
“Because you offer services for people to have their sexual beings, so I’m sure men come here for that too, right?”
“Yeah, but I have other people under my wing for that?”
“Now I’m confused?”
“All of the inquires come across my desktop and based on your needs, I decide who goes to who. I have niggas here for that type of shit. I don’t get involved in none of that.” She spat in disgust.
“So, you didn’t have sex with my friend Emma?”
“I highly doubt it. I have a huge staff.”
That gave me more relief than anything to know Emma and I weren’t about to bounce on the same dick. Now it made me curious to know who rocked her world badly enough for her to brag on it over and over for weeks.
Syx mentioned we eat by the ocean, so I plated out our food while he set the table. The mashed potatoes were creamy and buttery, still steaming next to the juicy meatloaf. My sauce, made from brown sugar, mustard, ketchup, and honey barbecue sauce, had already been added to it.
I served myself smaller portions, cutting through delicate pieces, arranging everything neatly on my plate. Old habits from years of watching my weight, Malcolm’s comments about my body, and of trying to be the perfect wife who ate like a bird.
Syx didn’t wait for ceremony. He cut into the meatloaf with his fork, brought a large piece to his mouth, and closed his eyes as he chewed.
“Fuck,” he groaned, and the sound went straight between my legs, igniting my hairless pussy. “I guess your ground beef cake is good.”
“After you underestimated me?” I teased him with a grin, watching him dig in again once more.
I tried to focus on my own food, cutting a tiny piece of meatloaf, but my eyes kept drifting back to him. The way his jaws worked as he chewed, and the way his throat moved when he swallowed. He like a man who appreciated food. It was pretense, just pure enjoyment.
“I did,” he admitted, after chewing all of his food, and dabbed at the corners of his mouth. “I downplayed you.” He pointed his fork at me, then gulped some wine.
Syx reached for another serving of potatoes, scraping his fork on the plate, gripping it as he led it to his mouth as if his food would get taken away or something.
“You good? Why you ain’t eating?”
“Yeah,” I spoke quickly, taking a sip of wine to cover my embarrassment. “I like watching you eat, I guess.”
“You do?” He grinned, after licking his fingers clean. “You can cook for sho’. I might need you to slide me this recipe before you leave.
“I got you,” I smirked, before biting into my own food. “So, is true what they say about food overseas…it takes some getting used to?”
He looked up, considering the question as he chewed. “Yeah actually…everything is. I missed being back home, just for my mama’s cooking. I had her send me a few recipes to give to the chef. Most people here get offended when you tell them how to cook things to your liking.”
I nodded in agreement. “That’s true.” I twirled my fork in the air, the only sounds during our silent meal being the ocean waves and the scraping of cutlery against plates.
"So," Syx said speaking over the silence, "let's talk about what the next two weeks will look like.
First and foremost, I want you to understand that everything we do is about you and your pleasure.
This isn't about me. My job is to guide you, to teach you, and to help you discover what your body is capable of. "
I nodded, my heart began to race again.
"We'll start slowly," Syx continued. "Tomorrow, we'll do some education—talk about anatomy, arousal, the different types of orgasms. Then we'll do some exercises to help you get more in touch with your body. Nothing sexual yet, just awareness."
"Okay," I said.
"The day after that, we'll start with some hands-on work. I'll touch you, explore your body, help you understand what feels good. We'll build from there, gradually increasing intensity as you become more comfortable and aroused."
"And if I can't... if it doesn't work?" I asked, voicing my deepest fear.
"Then we'll try something different," Syx said simply. "Nyne, I've never had a client who couldn't orgasm by the end of two weeks. Some women get there on day three. Some take the full two weeks. But everyone gets there eventually. You just have to trust the process. And trust me."
"I do," I said, surprised to realize it was true. There was something about Syx that made me feel safe, despite the intimate nature of what we were about to do.
"Good," Syx said. "Now, I want you to go to bed and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, we start your journey."
“You don’t live here?” I asked.
“Nah, I stay in the villa across the street. You don’t have to worry about anything though. There’s twenty-four security patrolling and I have RoxxGuard, one the of best security systems. I like the give clients their privacy.”
Nodding my head, I let everything settle inside, allowing the next day’s events trample over me, more so afraid of what to expect from it.