Chapter 7 Lyrix #2
It was underrated, sure. But it didn’t beg for attention because it was the vibe without trying. So just imagine a city that made you feel good from the inside out. A place that kissed your culture, praised your curves, and flirted with your freedom.
That was New Orleans.
And Maison was like the man version of it. The city made you feel something. And the men there made you feel it with a little more pleasure…a little more pressure…a little more promise.
No wonder the Heaux Phase was meant for the city. Fuck a Vegas. It’s NOLA every time.
We walked hand in hand down a brick path, and I noticed the scent of water and wind tickling my senses. We were getting close to the water. I could hear waves lapping, people chatting nearby, the subtle creak of something rocking in the distance.
Then I saw the Mississippi River stretching wide and dark beneath the evening sky, boats docked, lights shimmering on the surface like glitter.
Maison slowed his pace as we approached a dock. My eyes bounced between him and the boats until my cheeks started to burn.
“Where are we going?” I asked, grinning like a kid.
He looked down at me and smirked. “Somewhere I think you’ll love.”
My heart fluttered when I saw the boat in front of us—an old-fashioned riverboat with white railings, glowing lights, and the sweet hum of music drifting from inside.
Oh, he’s showing out now.
“It’s a Jazz Dinner Cruise,” he said, watching my expression like it was a gift he was proud to unwrap. “Live music, unlimited buffet, and the best views of the city.”
As soon as we stepped onto the boat, I was transported.
A live New Orleans jazz band was already jamming near the front of the deck with saxophones singing, trumpets, and a standing bass sounding smooth and sexy.
We found our table just as the boat started moving away from the dock. I turned to the window, and the whole city unfolded before us—New Orleans in all its glowing, soulful glory, lights twinkling, people cheering as we passed, music floating in from every direction.
The buffet was ridiculous. I’m talking gumbo, jambalaya, crawfish étouffée, fried shrimp, red beans and rice, boudin balls, catfish, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, bread pudding, and everything. My plate was stacked like I hadn’t eaten in days.
Maison laughed watching me eat. “I should’ve recorded this. You could be in a commercial.”
I grinned, wiping my mouth. “I’m happy. Like… really happy.”
He leaned in and kissed my cheek, that same slow, sweet affection he always gave.
I was dancing before dessert, letting the jazz carry me. The band played something upbeat and brassy, and I couldn’t help but move. I felt the wind in my hair and Maison’s laughter behind me. It was one of those moments where you know, deep in your gut, that you’ll remember it forever.
“Okay, okay!” I said, mid-dance, laughing as my stomach twisted. “I gotta pee before I embarrass myself.”
He smiled. “I’ll walk with you.”
I tilted my head. “To the bathroom?”
He nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world and reached for my hand. “Yeah. Gotta make sure you don’t get distracted and join the band or end up in the kitchen trying to steal recipes.”
I laughed hard, swatting his chest. “Boy, shut up.”
But I let him guide me through the deck, still holding my hand.
The bathroom door clicked shut behind me, and I couldn’t help but laugh. It was one of those small individual restrooms with soft yellow light and jazz still floating through the tiny window up high.
I hurried, trying not to laugh at myself for rushing, when there was a knock.
“Hey,” Maison’s voice teased from the other side, “I think it’s unsafe for you to be in there alone. I should come in and make sure you’re good.”
I laughed so loud it echoed. “Is that right? You just so concerned about my safety, huh?”
“I’m serious,” he said, laughing too. “You never know what could happen in there.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, washing my hands. “You just trying to get somewhere with me.”
Through the small cracked window, the music shifted. The bass got deep. There was something about the way a live band played R&B.
I opened the door, still grinning. “See? I’m fine.”
He slipped in anyway, closing the door behind him with that same grin. “Yeah,” he said quietly, stepping closer, “you are.”
The way he said it was a touch, all on its own. The kind that made you forget where you were. He wrapped his arms around my waist, eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world was keeping time with the band outside that window.
“You hear that jazz?” he whispered.
I smiled. “I hear it.”
And then what he meant clicked.
“‘Have sex with jazz echoing through an open window,’” I said, remembering the line from my vision board.
He grinned. “You still checking things off, right?”
The rest happened the way freedom happens… unplanned, messy, but alive.
We kissed, slow at first, then with sexy urgency. It wasn’t the kind of moment you could choreograph, it was laughter between kisses, whispered challenges, and the jazz outside giving us our rhythm.
It was wild. I tried my best not to be too loud. I didn’t want to drown out that smooth jazz floating through the little window. But, whew, let’s just say the music had some competition.
Whatever training program Maison followed, it was working overtime.
The man had endurance, balance, and focus like a personal trainer sent by the ancestors.
I don’t know if he does squats, lunges, or bench presses, but the way he handled me should honestly be studied by science.
My feet didn’t touch the ground the whole time.
I was floating, literally and spiritually.
Like every part of me that had been waiting, clenching, and overthinking just… let go.
When I finally caught my breath, leaning against the sink and still half laughing, I couldn’t believe what just happened. “That was—crazy,” I whispered, shaking my head.
Maison laughed too, pulling me close again. “Guess you can add improvisation to your list.”
Later, when I fixed my hair in the mirror, I couldn’t stop smiling.
It wasn’t just the thrill of it, it was the power in it.
I’d spent a whole year trying to heal quietly, loving myself in silence, journaling about what I hoped to feel again someday.
But that trip? Maison? The heaux phase? It reminded me that I could love myself loud too.
That sometimes healing ain’t sitting still. Sometimes it’s moving to music, saying yes, doing something wild just because you can.
Because freedom isn’t about control. It’s about trust—trusting your heart, your body, your happiness.
Heaux Phase wasn’t recklessness. It was release.
I wasn’t lost. I was finally finding myself again.
We stood at the rails, side by side, leaning over just enough to feel the breeze off the water. The city lights sparkled in the distance as the cruise began sailing back toward the dock. The jazz band behind us hadn’t missed a note, filling the air with soulful notes.
I exhaled, still catching up to the whirlwind of the day.
Maison looked over at me, then asked, “So… you said you’ve been single for over a year? Healing? What happened in your last relationship?”
I stared out at the water for a second before answering.
“It ended bad enough that I started therapy.” I laughed softly.
“I needed to know if I was the problem. Not just in that relationship, but in how I showed up in all of them. I kept pouring and hoping for different outcomes, and when that last one ended, it broke something in me.”
He stayed silent, letting me talk.
“My therapist told me to stop dating. She said, ‘Learn who you are without romantic expectations. Heal in stillness. Date yourself.’ So I did. I pulled away. Learned what I liked. What I didn’t.
Who I am when I’m not trying to be everything to someone else.
” I glanced at him, a little nervous to share so much.
But his smile was gentle, warm, and not judgmental.
“That’s beautiful,” he said. “Seriously. Most people just jump into the next thing, hoping it’ll fix the last one. But you slowed down. You did the hard work. That says a lot about you, Lyrix.”
I blinked a little too fast, trying not to get emotional. “Thank you.”
He looked out at the water. “I’ve been single for about seven months.”
I looked at him, surprised. “That’s not bad. What happened with you?”
He smirked. “Apparently, I’m too spontaneous for the women I choose.”
I laughed. “Too spontaneous? What does that even mean?”
“It means I’ll wake up on a Tuesday and say, ‘Let’s go see what they doing in Pennsylvania for two days.’ No plan. Just vibes.”
I cracked up. “And they didn’t like that?”
“Shidd, nope. Most of them were corporate workers, business owners, and nine-to-fivers who had to be stationary. They’d get irritated when I’d still go travel solo. Said it made them feel left behind.”
“I get it,” I said. “But also… I kind of love that.”
He looked at me. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I work for a medical company, and I’m remote too. I gotta go in maybe three times a month, but most of the time, I’m home.”
“See,” he said, bumping my shoulder with his, “that’s what I’m talking about. You still flexible. We’d be catching flights and still clocking in.”
We laughed, but then I turned toward him more seriously. “I actually liked being alone, though. Like, I enjoyed it. I found comfort in myself. I realized I don’t need a partner… but I do want one. There’s a difference.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s real.”
I tilted my head. “Honestly, the only thing I missed during that time was sex. That’s probably why God wanted us to wait for marriage. Because that was the part that had me crazy. If I was a virgin, I would be good because how do you miss something you never had?!”
We both burst out laughing.
I leaned into the rails, shaking my head. “I already know I’m gonna be that parent who makes my kid believe that having sex before marriage will kill them.”
Maison almost choked laughing. “Not the you will die scare tactic!”
“I’m serious!” I said, grinning. “I ain’t letting my child go through what I went through. I’m putting them up on game early. Scare ‘em straight, then soften the blow later.”
He was still laughing. “Lord, your kid gone be terrified.”
“And safe,” I said proudly.
He looked at me again with that same warm smile. “You’re really something special, Lyrix.”