"I want you to leave here loving yourself. When all of this is over, Nyne—because it will be—I want you to feel satisfied knowing you're worth the type of love that you crave. All it takes is the right man to treat you like his treasure. Niggas ain't born with that gift and that ain't your fault, baby."
He stared into my soul, deeper, then pulled away, taking my breath right along with him.
"And you do?" I retorted, wanting to know more of his demeanor than what he was leading on with.
"On what terms?" he inquired as he took a drink from his glass of wine while leaning against the countertop, only inches away from me.
"My guess is that you're single because of your job occupation, or are you too much of a hoe to believe in monogamy?"
His brows raised as I waited for his answer. "Keep it real," I encouraged him.
He chuckled. "It ain't got shit to do with me not believing in monogamy. I was raised in a two-parent household. Before my grandfather died, he and my grandmother were together for years. I just ain't never met a woman who's able to handle my occupation without being selfish and wanting me to quit."
"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 onsincecollege. 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.”
