Sexual Therapy

It was early, I don't even remember what time it was. The sun was just beginning to rise over NYC. As the city bubbled to life, I jumped into the backseat of a Black Suburban SUV and confirmed to my driver, "JFK, American Airlines."

This had become routine for me. Since writing my book, "How to Turn On a Dime" my schedule was full of speaking gigs, bringing me from East to West Coast and back, sometimes in the same day. I loved my job, my research, meeting new people, and now as a best seller author, I enjoyed reaching more audiences with my message. I'm a trained psychologist, specializing in the area of sex therapy. My book is about a deep exploration of the human anatomy and the keys to sexual freedom and intimacy. People are not only fascinated by sex, but they crave it more than any other pleasurable stimuli in the world. We all do it, want it, get it, want to get it, have gotten it, or wanna give it at any moment of any day. I explore the psychological aspects of the sexual spectrum and offer safe spaces for my audiences and clients to explore their own desires, fantasies and needs without judgement or shame.

I created an analogy for my teaching...sex is like a car. You can use it to get from point A to point B (orgasm) but if nobody's ever taught you how to properly use the car, you miss lots of road signs and lights that help you navigate the journey easier and with much more pleasure.

Thankfully our culture is shifting but I consider my life's mission to make this a topic that can be freely explored and discussed. Normalizing the topic and bringing a new level of sexual healing and freedom to the world. I'm not Ghandi, but I do consider myself a messenger of truth and have been chosen for this path.

I speak across the world and have researched this topic endlessly. I have seen more sexual healing lead to spiritual healing in my office than I have in the local church. I have had clients reach orgasms for the first time in 40 years, I have heard stories of sexual freedom saving marriages, restoring relationships, bringing in more money, increased salaries, job titles, you name it. Sexuality is spiritual and when we open up that part of our psyche, it leads to deeper connection and deeper meaning in every area of our lives.

As you can tell, I'm rather passionate about this topic. Here's the thing. I do all of this yet in my own personal life, I have yet to experience the raw, deep, passionate spiritual experience that I preach about day after day. I know, I know. Crazy. Those who can't, teach. Right? Something like that. I chalked it up to my calling and the sacrifice it took for me to spread this message. There's been no doubt in my mind, the power of my teachings and the lives that have been transformed by my message. Yet, for me, it just didn't work.

I've had numerous sexual partners, mostly men. There were a few occasions where I felt a connection with a woman and engaged sexually, but they all ended the same. For me, it's not about orgasm.

While I never mind a great orgasmic pop, I find myself lacking in intimacy, in closeness, in engaging the supernatural, spiritual element of human connection. This is what I teach, the majority of people around the world, feel the exact same. We crave to be known in the deepest possible way.

Anyway, here we are at JFK. I check into the lounge in the American Airlines terminal. I flash my AMEX Black card to the customer relations rep and quickly find a seat. I pop out my phone to check for any emails or messages from my assistant when out of the corner of my eye, a handsome man walks past me. The downwind of his aftershave lingered, along with the smell of shea and cocoa butter. His caramel skin and dark features were striking. His hair was cut short, black and his facial goatee was sprinkled with salty gray hair. Refined, distinguished, rugged. He was somewhere around 6' and took up space like an athlete. He was wearing luxury jeans, a fitted black T shirt, white sneakers, and a pin striped sport coat. He was muscular and clearly took pride in his physical appearance. Also, he gave off an alpha male vibe...strong, sure of himself, confident.

Now, I've been around the world and have seen a whole host of attractive people in my lifetime, so it wasn't necessarily his good looks that caught my attention. There was just something about him, he emitted a pheromone that my body instantly latched. I can go into a long laborious research paper about the power of pheromones and the links to attraction, but just take my word on it. It's a real thing.

I glanced up from my phone and saw him walking towards the quiet room, the spot where travelers can take a break from the everyday hustle and bustle. No talking or chatting in the quiet room. Just silence.

"Damn, what was that?" I wondered to myself. My body immediately tensed up, what I wanted to do was run full speed and grab him, like a dog in heat. Here's the thing about a connection like this, he felt it too. Instead of acting on my impulse, I sat back and watched to see what he would do with the reactions in his body. Would he deny it and stay focused on whatever he was heading to do, or would he honor that pull and seek to be closer to the force? I grabbed my laptop and sat it on the table in front of me, one because it would be easier for me to steal glances in his direction over the top of my computer, but also I needed an excuse for myself not to chase him down. I started feverishly typing out what I was feeling, how I became intensely aware of my heart rate, racing even though I was sitting down. My breath quickened, almost to a pant-like rhythm, my nipples hardened and holy shit, my panties were getting wetter by the second. If nothing else, this is great material for my work I thought to myself.

I took a glance up and guess who was looking back in my direction? Yep. I told you, he felt it too. "Oh shit, here we go," rolled through my thoughts. A slight smile crept out at the corner of my mouth and he reciprocated it. Fuck, he is sexy. I quickly averted my gaze back to my computer, looking busy, trying to pretend I wasn't completely transfixed. He mirrored my actions and returned to his phone. I took a body scan of myself... panties were dripping, breathing was heavy, palms were sweating, and suddenly involuntary twitching in my groin. Holy shit, this is real. I know about this stuff, sure, but feeling it is another thing. I gather my composure, I can't be like acting like a horny little schoolgirl here in the airport lounge. I rationalize. "This sexy beast of a man, yes, is going to get on another plane and be across the world in a matter of hours. I will never see him again, so just enjoy the sensations, use it for material and keep it moving," my analytical mind frantically trying to take the power back from my internal rages. I feel like I am about the burst inside, so I close my laptop, put it in my bag and glance up. He's looking down at his phone.

I stand up, grab my backpack and rolling carry-on case and make my way to the restroom/shower area. I know from years of personal therapy practice and research that feelings aren't facts and just because we have overwhelming emotions, doesn't mean we have to act on them. I'm staring in the bathroom mirror, repeating this to myself, yet everything inside of me wants to pursue these urges. I gather my composure, clean my hands and grab the doorknob to exit the restroom. I pull open the door and walk out into the hallway, and coming towards me... it's him. I swallowed hard just before locking eyes with him. He said nothing, but held my gaze long enough to say everything.

Not wanting to show just what was happening internally, I continued to walk past him, turning to look behind me as he walked into the restroom. I reached my seat only to realize that the airline board was showing DELAYED for my flight. "Shit," I thought to myself. I scrambled to inform my assistant to make adjustments for the delay on the other end and whipped out my laptop. I had too much on my mind to continue with this distraction.

I'm feverishly typing away when he walks back by and asks if the seat next to me to taken. "No, I'm open... I mean, it's open," I nervously say as we both laugh. He reaches out his firm hand and says, "I'm Marcus." I reply, "I'm Kate, nice to meet you." We realize that we're both booked on the same AA flight to LA, now delayed at least another hour. Naturally, we discuss our professions, he's a former athlete (I guessed it) who now produces movies. He tells me about how his history of being a football player has led him to his work in the Entertainment Industry. I'm utterly transfixed by this man, hanging on his words. I've never been one to feel intimidated by a man, and it wasn't exactly intimidation but mores a sense of emotional overwhelm in the moment. He took great interest in my work, asking thoughtful questions and challenging me on my thoughts about how intimacy and culture intersect. We discussed aspects of storytelling and great characters, we listed our favorite movies and I admit, I haven't seen very many of his. I tend to lean more into gritty independent dramas that examine the depths of the human experience or documentaries that tell of real life events. He shared how his love of movies saved his life and it was his dream to be able to have a part in telling great stories and perhaps saving someone else's life.

I've always had an assumption that Hollywood types are shallow, only in pursuit of their own narcissist fame and validation, but somehow Marcus was bringing a fresh reality to me about all of this. He was genuine. Confident, slightly cocky, but real. He said he was going to grab a drink at the bar since we still had enough time, and when he got up from his seat we hear an announcement saying our flight to LA has been delayed yet again. Another hour. We sort of moan in disgust but I notice the twinkle in his eye. More time. I didn't want this interaction to end and apparently, neither did he.

He returns with two drinks and our conversation flows effortlessly and endlessly about everything from politics to sex and everything in between. He's not intimidated by my knowledge or confidence to discuss typically "off-limit" topics. Another thing I'm rather an expert in is body language and although he isn't saying it outright, he body is screaming at me in desire. At this point in the evening, there are maybe 3 other people in the entire lounge. Most flights have departed from JFK and the dark night is sprinkled with stars and a half moon reflecting off of the windows. Craving a more intimate setting, I suggest that we move into the quiet room. The lights are dim and the private booths will create an ambiance for continued conversation.

As we settle into a booth, sitting across from one another, he leans over the table and whispers, "I'm fascinated by you." An involuntary smirk curls my lip and my cheeks turn red. I hold his gaze and whisper with a little nod, "likewise." I decide to have a little fun with him now, "so tell me what you know about the female body." He lets out a charming laugh, unsure of just how to answer. Something tells me though that he knows perhaps just as much as I do, although from the other perspective. He suddenly slides out of his side of the booth and moves to my side as I scoot all the way to the wall. He leans over and whispers into my ear with a breathy voice, "I know right now your heart is beating 155 bpm and your pupils are dilated... not just because of the dim light." I smile, he's right. His firm hand is now on my bare thigh sitting right below the hem of my knee length pencil skirt, squeezing slightly. He continues, "I know my hand right here makes you feel something, and if I start to slide it up, something else will happen." I can barely contain my composure. It's almost like electricity is pulsing through his hand and into my groin. I nod, inviting him to continue. Barely audible I respond, "show me more." He happily obliges, moving his strong hand up the inside of my left thigh. I spread my legs slightly, feeling the rush of heat from my exposed panties. I gasp as he grips my thigh and pulls it toward himself. He leans over and gently kisses my neck. Smiling he whispers, "I know alot about the female body."

Fuck. I'm about to do something I've never done before. I've read about these kind of connections but never experienced in my entire life. I spread my legs apart, inviting him to feel the warmth and wetness of my throbbing pussy. His fingers rub gently up and down the outside of my black lace underwear, a tease, making me arch my back. I thrust against his hand, wanting him to press harder, give me more. He chuckles, "easy killer." He can feel my raging instincts. His fingers pressed against my pussy lips, he reaches up with his other hand and pulls my face to his, pressing his luscious lips against mine. He tastes like mint and a slight moan escapes both of us. I reach over and grab his leg, pulling him closer to me. Rather expertly, he moves my panties to the side and slowly starts rubbing my pussy, up and down, back and forth. I reach over and grab his crotch, a huge rock hard rod feels like its about to burst under his jeans. "Holy shit," I thought to myself, "the black guy thing is real." He must have enjoyed the touch to his dick because just as I started to massage it, he pushed his fingers into my wet, soaking, throbbing pussy. It took everything in me to refrain from moaning loudly, but I just tensed up and enjoyed the sensation of a man exploring my body.

What felt like seconds later, we hear the announcement overhead saying last call for boarding flight 845 to LA. "Shit," we both scramble to gather ourselves and our belongings. We have to make it to the plane. He grabs my rolling bag for me, "come on, let's go" as we run out of the airport lounge. In a whirlwind, I had no time to even consider what just happened. All I know was that I loved every second of it. We rushed to scan our tickets at the gate, run down the galley and just before entering the plane, he hands me the handle of my carryon bag. "It was nice to meet you, let me get your info when we land." "Thanks, same to you," I say with a huge grin. Assuming this may be the last of our interactions for now, we enter the plane.

What do you know? Guess who has side-by-side seats in first class? Yep. My lucky day just got even luckier! It wasn't straight back to business as was in the lounge, we actually picked up our intellectual conversation. He seemed to appreciate my mind and how I viewed the world and was fascinated by it all. The flight attendant dimmed the lights in the plane and distributed blankets. We reclined our seats and as everyone else in first class passed out for a 5 hour nap, we continued to talk when wondering hands made their way back to explicit areas. He slowly rubbed his hands up and down my stomach, taking time to feel my curves and linger at the bottom of my bra and the top of my skirt. It was almost like he was creating an image in his mind with the textures of my body. It was one of the most sensual things I've ever felt. I reached over to feel him, but he gently blocked my arm, wanting to continue to explore my body. He wasn't looking for reciprocation, he genuinely loved exploring my flesh.

We didn't talk much for the rest of the flight, his hands eventually made their way to my breasts as he carefully tweaked my nipples, again panting a picture in his mind with his hands. I was about to burst with anticipation. I wanted to feel his hands in my panties again, but he wouldn't do it. It's quite hard to describe, but it was as if he was concerned with being an artist, musing with his subject. Meanwhile, I was overcome with sensual emotion and intimacy... all in a public place, from a stranger I had only met a couple hours ago.

As the plane starts to descend, we elevate our seats and nothing has to be said about it all. He knows, I know. A few moments pass by.... "Come back to my place?" he questions gently. A million thoughts flooded my head. This is crazy. Hell no. You could be an ax murderer, I don't know you. I have to get to my hotel, go to sleep, wake up refreshed, ready for my keynote speech. I can't be fucking around with some movie making stranger.... so I leaned over and nodded a little apprehensively, "sure."

I texted my assistant that I had to make a stop before arriving to my hotel and that I'd call her in the morning. I canceled my uber and jumped in the black Cadillac Escalade that was curbside waiting for him. This is a driver he knows, friendly conversation. I sit mostly quiet looking my phone. I don't really know how to act, this is all a first for me.

We roll up to his home in the hills, beautiful but modest. Clearly he's successful but not overly indulgent or flashy. I like that. Again, he's shattered my preconceptions about his "type." His home is clean, neat, beautifully furnished. No sign of others here, an elevated bachelor pad. He shows me into the bedroom and offers the shower. As I am gathering my stuff, he lays out a beautiful plush robe with the fluffiest slippers I've ever seen. Clearly, I think to myself, "this is not the first time he's done this." I didn't care. I was here now and whatever was about to happen, I had to know. I had to experience it for myself. Research, right?

I exit the shower, clean and unsure of what to expect. I see him in the other room mixing a couple of scotches over rocks. He's in a towel, having just showered himself. The mystery of this man. The patience, the meticulous way he is controlling the mood, the anticipation, the mystique of it all. While feeling overly sensual, I'm also acutely aware of the slight fear I have. This all feels dangerous but I love it. I'm known for keeping my life calculated, organized, on track, and predictable. This day has been anything but predictable and it's filing me with a new passion.

He presses play on a sensual soundtrack through the surround sound speakers, walks over, hands me the scotch and kisses me gently on my neck next to my collar bone. He's only wearing a towel tied around his waist so I can clearly see his chiseled body. The muscle integrity in his arms and chest are incredible. I've deduced he's in his mid 50s but looks no more than 40, especially standing here before me in all his alpha masculine glory. He slides the robe off my right shoulder and starts kissing slowly down my shoulder and onto the back of my neck. I take a long sip of the scotch and feel the burn slide down my throat. He massages my shoulders and neck, rubbing his hands over my body on the outside of my robe. He slowly slips the robe off my other shoulder exposing my naked chest. He moves around to the front of my body. I nervously pound the rest of the drink and set the glass down on the table. He takes a step back and admires my naked bosom, again creating a clear mental picture in his head. Almost like he wanted to remember every detail of my body, every curve, every freckle, every dip. He leaned in and kissed my lips, firmly grabbing my tits with both of his hands.

He pushed me toward the bed and I fell onto my back, as he quickly climbed on top of me. With his towel no longer around his waist, I caught a quick glimpse of his delicious flaccid member. He wasn't overly eager to shove his cock into me, which turned me on even more than I already was. He slowly began kissing my neck, making his way down my tits, onto my stomach and very intentionally avoiding my groin. He licked and sucked the inside of my thighs, making me squirm with anticipation. I wanted to feel his breath between my legs. I wrapped my legs around his body and pulled him close to me. He raised up and kissed my lips, rubbing his tongue against mine. I could feel his now rock hard dick pressing against my bare pussy lips. I wanted him more than anything, I wanted him to fill me up with his thick cock.