My Sexologist {COMPLETED}

session 1.

O T M
N E W Y O R K , N Y
J U N E 1 9 T H

Clinical Sexology.

I had been fascinated early with the way we as people responded so similarly to something so powerful. In the end, we were all beasts giving in to the temptation of our flesh, not being able to give it up because this one thing is more powerful than even love.

It was appalling to study and observe what sex or lack thereof did to an ordinary human like you or me. It was to anatomy what oxygen was to a mammal. I had studied what made it so sought after that certain people with certain personalities could become severely addicted to it.

Scientifically, if two people were in love, their libidos were sky high. Yet scientifically, people react sexually to mysterious energies.

Studying such an ever-changing dynamic seemed like a waste of time. My parents had told me that when I went to college for it. They didn't want to support me in my journey, but I appreciated them for not giving up on me.

Now, in an area where sex was selling like hotcakes, my career would never die. Some people came to me as a joke and some people came to me so that they could understand themselves or their partner better. I knew people in their most vulnerable state and I couldn't even recall them on the street.

Inside my office, there laid a large, white chaise for my clients, comfortability the number one priority. Some of my clients had even fallen asleep on the chaise. The air always and would always smell of vanilla and patchouli.

People underestimated the power of a good fragrance, or a good layout, or an alluring soundtrack. I could argue that was why some people couldn't engage. They couldn't slow down, didn't understand that everything before the encounter made intimacy what it is. Nobody was ever patient enough to make the sex the long lasting part of the moments spent. Yet, people still fell back into unhealthy habits because they couldn't stand to be without. To me, that described an addiction.

At the front desk, I greeted Danielle, my assistant. She smiled at me brightly, overeager to please, young, bright, and full of potential. It didn't feel right to have her still in the stages of an internship. She was perfect to me.

"Good morning Ms. Maraj. Your nine o'clock is in your office already."

"Already?" I checked my Datejust; 8:57. "She's early."

"She was eager to see you. She looks young."

"What kind of young?"

Danielle shrugged her shoulders, "All she said was she couldn't wait to see you."

I stood there and conversed with Danielle until well after my nine o'clock. Finally, I entered my office with clicking heels, crossing the threshold, and I could feel a pair of hazel eyes following me. The blondeish brown mane shook with each movement of her head, finally stopping when I sat down across from the chaise she sat on.

"I heard you were anxious to see me."

She smiled and held her hand out to me, "I'm Beyoncé."

I shook her hand, "Onika, but I think you know that."

"I saw you on those billboards in Manhattan. I even saw you in Times Square."

"We spend a lot on marketing."

"You look better in person."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

We both went silent. She was slouched on the chaise, her arms spread out against the back, her legs spread apart too. She stared at me while I took down notes about her. I prepared her synopsis like she was a recurring client, because she could be.