“Deal. You have my word. I love you, Pops…you my main man. You can’t go anywhere, okay?” Saint tried his damndest to smile, a weak and damaged laugh escaped his lips, but tears began to blur his vision as he stared down into the water.
“I’m trying not to, Son. I have so much more to live for now. You taught me that.”
And that was it. His father hung up…
Saint paused and reflected on the conversation before casting his phone onto a nearby glass block table. He hooked the elastic at his waist with his thumbs and removed his pants. Stripping down to his forest green brief boxer shorts, he held his arms out and he dove into the pool, going down, down, down. The cold water shocked his system, but soon he adjusted. He swam, kicked and moved his arms as if part of an underwater Olympic formation team. After doing several laps, he bobbed about, looking up into the blanket of dark sky and winking at the boastful, bright and wide full moon.
Fool’s moon. Some would say I’m a fool. But I know what’s important in life. Love is. Because I love that man, and I love my family, I will do the right thing. I’m playing tug of war with myself, but I know he is right. If Jagger has to stop me, so be it. Fate. I suppose I do need a referee. I go a bit out of my mind when someone I love stands too close to the death.
He got out of the pool. Pushing his hair out of his face, he grabbed his phone and made his way back inside of the house, a dripping mess, and locked the kitchen patio doors behind him. He left a watery trail as he made his way up the steps to the bedroom and stood in front of his bed. He glared down at Xenia wrapped like a burrito in a tornado of twisted emerald green sheets. He stood there staring at her for too long, but felt unable to turn away. He was in that moment, in love with watching her chest slowly rise and fall as she caressed the satiny feel of seductive slumber. After a few moments, he made his way into the bathroom and dried off. Soon he returned to her, dressed in a fresh pair of white boxer shorts. He set the alarm and slipped into bed, still mesmerized with her sleeping form. He slid against her, and she woke in his embrace, opening her eyes ever so slightly. Smacking her lips in a semi-sleepy daze, she made a kittenish sound.
“Baby…where ya been?” she murmured, her voice raspy from sleep and not fully coherent. Just hearing that feminine sound—the sound of his wife, his life—made his dick hard and brought him fully in the here and now.
“Talking with my father. He’s not in a good way, Xenia.” She rubbed her eyes; the red strap of her gown fell off her shoulder and she struggled to slide upward, to come alert. “What do you mean?” she asked more coherently. “What did the doctor say?”
“They want to do surgery. He’s got a hole in his gut from a damn ulcer. I know in my heart they won’t be able to help him. If I don’t intervene, something will go wrong.” He grasped her hand and held it, intertwining their fingers. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes, of course.” She slowly raised her arm and ran her fingertips along his jawbone. He turned into her embrace and kissed her palm.
“I’m going out to New York soon. He will let me know when to go, after he gets a couple things taken care of. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I’m going to try to take care of him, to get rid of this. I need to call Jagger and have him come with me. Lawrence can hold down the fort while we’re gone.”
“So you are going to try to heal him I take it?”
“Yes…and I promise you, no matter what, I’ll back off if things get bad. I’ll return to you.” He looked into her dark eyes and fell in love all over again.
“Saint, this time, I’m not going to argue with you. I’m not going to fall apart. I’m too tired and seen too much…” She swallowed hard, her eyes glazing over. “You do what you need to do, just make sure you get your ass back here in one piece. If you can promise me that, I will tell my inner worry-wart to back off. I won’t ask you any questions—just don’t tell me any lies, and we’ll be cool.”
She looked down at the new tattoo on his chest and smiled. It was in her and their children’s honor. He felt tingly all over when she ran her index finger over the slightly raised and reddened surface.
“Give me a kiss, baby.” He leaned into her, grazing her lips with his own. She returned the affection, scooting closer and rocking her pelvis into his groin as she hooked her hands around the back of his neck. Their lips softly…slowly…caressed each other’s, their warm breaths teasing. He could hear her breathing so clearly, and soon, it was in sync with his own rhythm. He cupped her shoulders, buried his head in the crevice of her neck and shoulder and closed his eyes, receiving her medication to his soul as she ran her fingertips up and down his bare back—until finally, she traced the bullet hole scar, and he stiffened a little.
I did it all for you, Xenia…
“When you touch me right there, like that, it does something to me.” His breath labored and his flesh warmed.
“You do something to me, when you touch me right here…” she took his hand and placed it over her heart. He psychically dove inside of her and his heart swelled. He could feel it all…
Her pain. Her tears over the years. Her worries. All because of him, because of his gift and his lot in life. But before he pulled away in torment, she warmed; the thoughts softened and what he felt was pure adoration from her for him. The woman loved him silly. She’d do anything for him, and she trusted him, believed in him.
“Thank you for that. You don’t know how much I needed it.” He gently kissed her chin before settling back down.
“I did. And I trusted you to see the message, loud and clear.”
Oh, he had…she didn’t come this far to leave him. And though a part of her wanted to fall to pieces, he was sure, the prospect of something going awry very much a reality, she knew he needed her love right now—not her judgments and certainly no defeated attitudes. He got what he’d hoped for, and this was why she was his entire world…
~***~
“Greetings, everyone. I want to go down the line here and introduce everyone on the panel,” the University of Mexico professor stated as he tapped the podium. The vast crowd, filled with medical students eager to become gynecologists, sex therapists, sex educators, family counselors and psychiatrists sat clustered together in the jam-packed auditorium. Saint perused the crowd and was delighted to see a myriad of ethnicities and both genders scattered about. He sat back in his seat under the mellow lights, a glass of water with slices of lime and orange by his side as he continued to listen to everyone being introduced.
“We would like for everyone to give a warm welcome to Dr. Lyndon, from the University of Arizona. We also have Dr. Hernández from the Plush Group. He travelled all the way from Canada to join us this evening. Last but not least, we have Dr. Aknaten, a sex therapist out of California, originally from New York. Tonight we will be discussing topics of an adult nature. Also…” Dr. Beechnut glanced at Saint before he continued.
Oh, here we go…
He smirked.
“Uh, also, I did let everyone know in advance before attending, we will not be filtering any of the information this evening. Each speaker has their own flare and may say things you aren’t accustomed to, but all three are wonderful teachers and I believe you can gain a lot from each and every one of them. So, please, let’s give a nice warm welcome to our speakers tonight.” The crowd lit up in applause.
Saint sat for two hours listening to both people before him. He often found himself nodding in agreement, smiling at their jokes and truly enjoying the fellowship. He felt in his element. Dr. Hernandez was a Hispanic man, standing about five foot six. He spoke with a slight accent. His salt and pepper hair and noble appearance didn’t match his alpha like stance. Saint got a real kick out of the man as he moved and hopped about the stage, explaining male ejaculation with humor and bravado.
The next speaker, Dr. Lyndon, a tall woman, pale as snow with long, lush red hair and bright green eyes, truly tickled his fancy. She was captivating—from the way she effortlessly entranced the aud
ience to the way she made the most mundane details come alive with colorful language. He’d never heard of her before and though he didn’t attend as many sex therapy conferences since his career had ventured in another direction, he’d missed the opportunity to meet this woman that was taking his trained profession by storm. Of all things, she discussed in depth the pornography industry. She went into the pros and cons of such material, the various types of porn, and how it could be used to help individuals as well as couples for various sexual conditions. She soon came to her closing statements, and it would be Saint’s turn next. He’d been saved for last. Saint was used to this and he knew why—because of his style of delivery. He had to be the last…man…standing. He’d been sent to the back of the bus, put in the wobbly chair of the class in the dark corner until the bell rang. He was the caged animal intended to be the showstopper, and in just mere moments, he’d be unleashed upon the innocent bystanders.
“Thank you so much, Dr. Lyndon,” Dr. Beechnut stated as he watched the woman take her seat. Saint shook her hand as she sat down and whispered in her ear, “That was a great presentation, Dr. Lyndon. You really broke down the female ejaculation quite beautifully. Many ask about that in regards to pornography, and I particularly enjoyed your cited examples of couple therapies using healthy film instruction.”
“Thank you so much, Dr. Aknaten,” she whispered back, nodding. She patted his hand, a big smile on her attractive face. When he felt her touch, his pulse raced while he drowned in a new awakening. The woman was absolutely dynamic. Her intelligence regarding their shared field excited him to the point that he made a mental note to contact her later regarding a new book he was writing, dealing specifically with the female sexual response. He knew her input would be invaluable.
“… and Dr. Saint Aknaten will speak to us this evening about lovemaking techniques, G-Spot massage and erotic touch as well as the spiritual and physical aspects of these subjects.” Saint smiled and got to his feet. He looked out into the crowd, waiting for the applause to dissipate.
“Thank you all for the warm welcome.” His voice echoed throughout the room, low, deep and commanding.
The acoustics in here are superb.
“It is great to be here this evening at the University of New Mexico to speak to all of you students from around the country, and Canada, too. All the speakers have come, this evening, not only to teach you, but also to learn.” He peered out into the audience, most bodies cloaked in shadows. “To become informed, enlightened, and to take this information back into our respective fields of expertise and share it as we see fit.” He paused and traced his finger up and down the edge of the lectern.
“As was stated, my name is Dr. Saint Aknaten and I will be speaking about lovemaking techniques tonight. Many of you know that despite my media appearances that occasionally evolve into off-topic banter that have nothing to do with what we are discussing this evening, sex therapy is my trade. It is my original vocational framework. It is the field I chose, and would choose over and over again. It is a study I was drawn to and knew that in many regards it was my calling.” He paused to glance at the corner of the room where a side door opened, allowing a stream of light. “I haven’t been a practicing sex therapist in quite some time, meaning, I no longer do client or patient therapy regularly due to my new occupational obligations. However, to keep my license current as well as to stay abreast of current events, I do attend seminars from time to time, and on some occasions, I speak at events such as this.” He waved an open palm in front of the audience.
“While I was in New York City, which is where I lived before I moved to L.A., I noticed that people around the country, around the world, viewed sex differently. As many of you know, New York is a melting pot. There are people of all races, ethnicities and cultures there. I grew up around that, and am a product of mixed parentage. I am biracial. When the descriptor biracial is mentioned, most people think: half black, half white. But I am half Korean and half Egyptian. My formidable years were spent in the South Bronx in the late 1970s; I was born there and lived there until the mid-1980s. As many of you know, a child’s sexual awareness, their personality and how they view themselves regarding their sexuality that some novices wish to believe they don’t have at that age, is being wired. From the time of birth, up until the age of six, that child’s sexual preference, desires, all of that, is already inside of them. It simply will not manifest until later in life.” He lifted his glass, took a small slip of water and placed it back down. “Now, in reference to geographic location, culture, and so forth, there are rules, ideas, and self-imposed expectations and regulations as to what is acceptable sexual behavior and what is not.
“The Eastern cultures get the gold star on sexual exploration in reference to its sole purpose, outside of procreation. No other culture has the rich history of making the now unfairly tagged as perverted, beautiful. Tantra Sex, Chakra orientation and sensuality, Kama Sutra, all of that comes from Eastern cultures. These were derived before the coming of Christ, before religion set its heavy foot upon intimate connection and soul transfer, which, in fact, is what good sex is all about. It is about bringing one person’s soul into another, and feeling each other—being there, being connected.” He tapped his fingertips together. “Then, many other cultures were discovered to have thrown their hats in the ring. Ancient caves with intricately painted sexual activity on their walls were found in Africa, particularly, Egypt. These depict many similar sentiments found in the Eastern culture teachings that I just mentioned. There are drawings of cunnilingus, orgies, fellatio, and anal sex, and just about anything you can imagine. There were even depictions of incest. It was seen in a different light at that time, believed to be instrumental in keeping a strong bloodline. We now of course know that acts of incest, whether consensual or not, are physically as well as morally debilitating and corrupt.
“In parts of Europe, such as Rome, Italy, the mega capital for the rise and fall of Christianity, evidence was found of destroyed home-made books, drawings, and statues, depicting sexual relationships between man and woman, and sometimes man and boy, an apprentice. These relationships were looked upon as normal, not abnormal—further proof that human beings have not become hornier or more perverted over time as many believe. No matter what you throw at our sexuality, our original programming will always manifest in one way or another. This, of course, is not in support of pedophilia! I bring up that man and boy relationship to demonstrate that these thoughts, these notions, were not only prevalent, but deemed as acceptable in some societies, as was my example of incest. Further proof that television, music, and all the other things in our society considered as having influence on the way we are—are really not so, and these excuses are not always true,. Sometimes, it is much deeper than that. We’ve been sexual deviants, vile perverts, loving procreators, lesbians, homosexuals, freaks and sensual lovers for a long ass time!” Soft rolls of laughter echoed throughout the auditorium.
“Now, let’s look at modern day. Let’s look at New York, where I was born and raised. The sex therapy profession has always been filled with eccentrics who brought their own flavor into the classroom, the doctor’s office and even the boardroom. I learned from these men and women. They were rougher around the edges, their message just as clear, but they were able to reach their clients by adapting to the people that were coming to see them, people who needed help and sought it. You have to…meet people where they are at. I can’t speak to everyone the same way and be effective, if effectiveness is truly my goal. It’s not a stereotype, it’s the truth. New Yorkers are tough people. I’ve been around the world, and because of many hardships the immigrants experienced, and their stories of life and survival in New York, this process builds strength, character and ruggedness you don’t see in many other places in this country. All of these different cultures seemed nothing alike, but they had that one thing in common,” he said, his eyes narrowed. “The will to survive! Decades passed, and then you got people like me, one of t
he results of such a melting pot, of the survival of the fittest, so to speak. I grew up with educated parents, but I was still street.
“I was raised in a poverty stricken area, and ended up with a sense of subsistence at all costs, as well as the intellectual capacity, thanks to my parents, to understand that, just because I was born into this, doesn’t mean it is who I am! It doesn’t define me. I’ve taken all of this, and more, into my profession. I set up an office and encouraged people to come. They came once word got out that I was abrasive, but my methods worked. They worked because I learned from the best. I’ll get more into that in a second, but people felt comfortable, once and for all, with an uncomfortable topic—that being, sexual hurt. This topic includes deviancy, sexual assault, sexual non-performance, over-sexualization such as addiction to pornography and intercourse, emotion driven promiscuity and a myriad other issues you will encounter in your path to helping people. I got the patient where they needed to be. People who were now brave enough to say, ‘There is something going on in here,’” he tapped the side of his forehead, “‘that is causing me problems down here.’” He looked at his groin, causing a soft hush of laughter.
“I became an intern and had a wonderful mentor, the infamous Dr. Chai.” The room erupted in applause. Saint had been hand taught by a world-renowned master sex therapist. Everyone knew who Dr. Chai was and though he’d passed away over five years earlier, dying peacefully in his sleep, the man’s teachings stood the test of time. He’d taken a special interest in Saint, letting him know he had a gift. He encouraged him, stating his delivery method would hit a core audience that was currently being overlooked. Saint had a new, improved way to treat and assist the masses. The sessions he witnessed, he fine-tuned, and this system became his calling card. People who went to him knew what they were getting into, but Saint was one of the best, and had clients that drove over four and a half hours sometimes to see him.
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