Dr. Fellatio

by Author Stella

  Patrick: Did I lose you?

  Alexia: Years ago. But I’m still online. ;)

  Patrick: I wish I could change so much, Lexi.

  We both had regrets. Rehashing them changed nothing.

  Alexia: I know.

  I did. I wanted to admit mine as well. It would be so easy to fall back into a natural groove with him. The uncertainty of Chris’s tenure in Atlanta, the span of time we’d been apart, and my own insecurities kept me from doing so, even with my fingers poised over the keys ready to type out my devotion. I needed something more concrete than an executive in a position that changed quarterly and empty words about a love that had never diminished. It would take more than one conversation and a few well-timed text messages to love Chris Moore with the abandon I once had—or so I tried to convince myself.

  Patrick: Why are you there so late?

  Alexia: I kind of got a promotion by arguing with you.

  Patrick: Martin caught wind of Warsaw, huh? I could have told you that side of your heritage would serve you far better than Polly—at least in the business world.

  I hadn’t heard either nickname in ages. Chris using them chipped another stone away from my emotional wall. Jasmine had tried a few times after Chris left, but I’d shut it down at the same time I’d stopped going by Lexi. The great thing about having a name like Alexia was that it gave me options—the ability to become someone else while remaining the same. He had loved my mixed heritage and thought I was exotic; nevertheless, I’d abandoned any reference to either to avoid the reminders of the past. Thankfully, I didn’t have to fight off the urges that hearing him call me Lexi brought since he attempted to conform to Alex at the office.

  Alexia: Who knew all it took was fighting with someone on the fifth floor to get promoted?

  Patrick: Sleeping with one would probably have been more fun—but whatever works.

  I reread that message multiple times wondering if he was joking or making an innuendo. I decided to bypass it altogether while forcing memories of Chris in my bed from my mind.

  Alexia: I’m really excited. You know how long I’ve wanted that job. I’m not there yet. The new team hasn’t been formed, but I started training today. And I get to participate in my team’s meetings which is pretty cool.

  Alexia: And also the reason I’m still at work when even the janitors have left.

  Patrick: I’m really proud of you, Lexi.

  Correcting him would only serve to lessen the value in his words, and right now, I wanted to appreciate them. His praise warmed me inside, and my chest heaved when my heart beat faster in response. I was grateful he hadn’t been within arm’s reach because I wasn’t certain I could have resisted his pulling me in the way he had so many times before.

  Alexia: Thank you.

  Patrick: Most people would have given up years ago. Your determination has always been one of your best qualities.

  None of the ways I wanted to respond were appropriate based on his position with the company, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to share them—only from doing it.

  Patrick: I don’t need to keep you there any later than you have to be. I just wanted to tell you I was thinking about you and have been since I left. I had planned to call you earlier and got caught up in meetings. This is the first chance I’ve had to reach out.

  And just like that, my heart began to beat again in a rhythm only Chris Moore created.

  Alexia: Thanks, Chris. Have a good night.

  Patrick: You too, Lex.

  I reread the messages multiple times, analyzing every word and their meaning. Getting lost in Chris would only further prove to be destructive. But my heart refused to give up hope, and I had a hard time denying the sexual appetite I’d thought I starved to death years ago. It had awoken with a vengeance—famished.

  My cell lit up with a reminder to return Candi’s call, forcing me to give up on daydreaming about Chris. Rather than dial her number, I sent her a text letting her know I was still at work and would have to call her tomorrow. And then did the same with Samantha. Both were far more understanding than they should have been based on what they paid me, but I welcomed the reprieve.

  For one night, I didn’t want to be Dr. Fellatio.

  I wanted to be the girl Chris remembered and once loved.

  I had never paid much attention to the team’s schedule outside of what my involvement had been, which was limited. If I had, I would have known just how much of my time would be spent in meetings away from my desk. The account team spent hours working together and created ideas through group brainstorming sessions—which I’d never witnessed since they resided on another floor—but it didn’t stop there. Once they had a viable concept, they worked tirelessly to bring it to fruition. The only time they separated was to create graphics and mocks for the group to adjust, redo, or further develop.

  From the time Dr. Fellatio had been born when I was twenty and in college, my evenings had been free to do with as I pleased. And working appointments in during the day between classes kept Chris from ever knowing I’d taken the lessons he’d taught me and turned them into a profitable business to pay my tuition. But the new responsibilities Martin had assigned me, on top of the ones I’d already had, eliminated any remaining freedom. By the time I left Seneca after a twelve or fourteen-hour day, the last thing I wanted to do was talk blowjobs.

  Thankfully, I’d been able to handle Samantha by phone and encouraged her to see a doctor to address the issue I’d been convinced for months was more than just nerves…no one produced that much saliva. And she’d agreed to contact me after her appointment to set up our next meeting. Lube was great, but drooling proved to be a definite turn-off.

  Candi and I had played phone tag for several days because our schedules never lined up. I tried again to connect even though I was exhausted and simply wanted to relax for a bit before calling it a night. Three rings and I prayed Candi wouldn’t answer. Just my luck, she grabbed the call before it went to voicemail. I’d poured myself a stiff drink after taking a long bath and made myself comfortable in my bed with the door closed. Nothing with Candi was ever short, much less easy, so I’d prepared for the duration.

  “Hiya!” She would make a great cheerleader, although I had no knowledge of her acrobatic abilities.

  “Hey. I’m sorry it’s taken so long for us to connect. I got a promotion that has consumed my time.”

  “Congratulations. What’s above a doctor?”

  There was no way Candi believed I had an actual medical degree, so I giggled at her joke. And then I tried to get to the reason for my call. “The last time we talked, you had some concerns.”

  “Are you going to operate on people now? Plastic surgery is a very lucrative field.”

  “You do know I’m not really a licensed physician, right?”

  “Did someone sue you?” she asked with pity in her tone.

  “No.” I drew out the word to buy myself time to formulate a sentence that wouldn’t hurt her feelings or imply how clueless I believed her to be.

  “Then how did you lose your license?”

  “I never had one.”

  “Oh my gosh. Do you know how much trouble you could get in for practicing medicine without a license?” The lilt to her voice indicated her worry.

  “I don’t practice medicine, Candi.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Me too. So let’s talk about your concerns.”

  “Oh yeah. I’m pretty sure Christopher has ED.” Her statement was matter of fact.

  “Erectile dysfunction?”

  “Yep. And he’s frustrated by his inability to perform. But I know if I could just get in there”—she acted like all his penis needed was motivation to join the game, a pep talk—“I know his little guy would perk right up.”

  “Please tell me you’ve never referred to his penis as ‘little guy.’”

  “Of course. I’m just being cute, though.” Guys did not think any reference to their penis being small was cute.


  I could have pointed that out. But I didn’t.

  “Any suggestions on how to get him to relax? I’m sure he’s embarrassed his willy is wiggly, but it happens to all guys, right?” She paused. “I mean, it’s never happened to any guy I’ve been with, but at his age, things are bound to start malfunctioning.”

  I ignored the comment about his age to focus on the actual issue. “If he has a medical condition that prevents blood flow to his penis, it won’t matter how much you talk to it, you won’t be able to cheer it to attention.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” The disappointment in her tone was palpable.

  Candi was the first client who’d ever come to me with issues greater than intimacy. She had relationship problems, and those weren’t my forte.

  “Should I just give up?”

  “Absolutely not. It’s possible his performance issue”—I didn’t believe he had one—“is due to stress. You said he works a lot—fatigue could play a large part.” My attempt at playing devil’s advocate wasn’t half bad. Just before I jumped off the deep end into a pool of the unknown, I took a deep breath. “Candi, let’s take a step back.”

  “How is that going to help me get him…aroused?”

  I bypassed that question in favor of my next. “How did you and Christopher meet?”

  She hummed into the receiver as though the memory brought her pleasure, although she could have just taken a bite of a delicious dessert. I never knew with her. “Promise not to make fun of me?”

  Her insecurity resonated with me. I didn’t care how people found love—unconventional was no less true than traditional. “Of course.” I hoped she heard the sincerity in my voice.

  “It’s really hard to meet anyone in California. People are so focused on image and money. Believe it or not, some guys are turned off by my spirited personality.”

  I wasn’t surprised by that. However, I was surprised she recognized it.

  “I have a hard time making friends and even harder time finding a relationship that goes beyond sex.” She huffed. “I guess that sounds backward since I’m paying you to teach me how to please a man.”

  It did, and again, her self-awareness astonished me.

  “I thought if someone couldn’t see me in person, they wouldn’t have the pretty package as an incentive. I want what my parents have, Alex. I want love just like the next girl. Sex is fun, but it seems women exchange it for love while men exchange love for sex—or some twisted version of it until they get bored with me.”

  “Candi…” This was the first real thing I’d ever heard her say.

  She’d been flighty and clueless, spirited and animated—insecure and self-deprecating were never on the radar. Yet here was this gorgeous woman admitting she wanted to go into a meeting blind so her appearance wasn’t an asset.

  “I went on a dating website and used the least flattering pictures I had with no makeup, sweatpants, and my hair a disaster hoping to find someone I could get to know and maybe love.”

  “And you found that in Christopher?”

  “I thought I had. Now I’m not so sure. We spent weeks talking online, text messages, emails, phone calls. Seeing his name on my phone gave me butterflies. And when we finally started FaceTiming, I was so smitten with him.”

  “That all sounds great.”

  “It was. He’s goofy looking, which I love. His curly hair and glasses drive me crazy. Probably because he doesn’t think they’re great features. He’s modest where guys in Cali are cocky.”

  Again, Candi shocked me with her use of adjectives like modest—I never would have guessed she knew the word. “When did you guys finally meet in person?”

  “About three months after we started talking. I came to Atlanta for a week thinking I’d be staying at his house with him. Instead, he put me up in a hotel. He picked me up every day, took me to tour all the hot spots in the city, and after dinner or a movie at night, he would drop me off and kiss me on the cheek. He never asked to come into my room or made moves on me.”

  The lightbulb went off in my mind, one Candi hadn’t seen. “How old is Christopher?”

  “Twenty-five, why?” That solidified my belief that he didn’t suffer from erectile dysfunction.

  “And you said he’s kind of goofy? Nerdy even, maybe?”

  “Oh my gosh, yes. It’s all kinds of cute.”

  “Is there any possibility he’s a virgin?” Not many still existed at his age, and he might just be a gentleman, but nothing about what she said equated to someone who wasn’t interested in her. It was more likely someone who respected her.

  “Shut the front door!”

  “It totally fits the bill.” I couldn’t believe Candi hadn’t obtained this information on her own or that Christopher hadn’t offered it.

  “A virgin? Mind blown.” She paused in quiet contemplation. “So it’s not me. Wait. What the heck am I going to do?”

  The chuckle escaped before I could suppress it. I couldn’t believe I was about to confess what was on the tip of my tongue. “You can teach him what you like. How you like it. Give him the lessons in the three Cs. As you learn from me, you can, in turn, show him.”

  “I could never do that.”

  “Why not, it’s how I got started as Dr. Fellatio.”

  “You were a virgin when you started doing this?” Awe-struck wonder lingered on the line.

  “Not by the time I started teaching other people, but being a virgin was what led the man I loved to teach me. And I promise you, that tie lasted a long time.” Too long on my end—I still held onto that frayed existence.

  “Ohhh. Is that the one who got away?”

  I’d gone this far. “Yeah. And to this day, he’s the only man I’ve ever loved, and I’ve never had sex with anyone else.”

  “Whoa there, Nelly. You make this kind of money and you’ve only been with one guy? You little swindler.” Her teasing tone told me she found amusement in this.

  “I’ve only had sex with one man. But everything he taught me has served hundreds of women well over the years.” It was hard to admit and lessened my credibility as an expert on fellatio, but none of that mattered.

  “I gave up my V-card to Bobby Benton in tenth grade under the bleachers.” There wasn’t regret in her words so much as indifference. “What made you finally pick this guy?”

  My eyes closed as if commanded, and my mind drifted back to all the things that made me love Chris. “In my mind, he was it. He respected me, he never pushed, his patience was unparalleled. Chris was good to me.”

  “Chris?” She practically screamed his name in my ear.

  I cringed. I’d confessed more than intended.

  “And my guy is Christopher. This is like fate. Destiny. It can’t be anything else. What are the odds of me meeting another girl who dated a Christopher?”

  Actually, they were quite good. It was a rather common name.

  “What was your favorite thing about him?” Her question was odd. Albeit for me to try to understand her train of thought.

  “Personality or thing he did?” I really should shut this down. Yet it had been so long since I’d talked openly about my relationship it was kind of cathartic to relive the good parts and not the tragic ending.

  “Both.” I swear I heard her clap her hands in excitement.

  “His passion was what I loved most about him—the way he loved me with complete reverence. That was how he approached everything in life he cared about—with vigor.”

  “And what did he do that drove you bananas for sexy time?”

  That one sentence almost shut me down. I forged on though, because it felt good to remember the way he loved. “My neck and shoulders used to get really stiff in college, and I’d stretch it out. It was like an aphrodisiac for him. He’d lightly stroke his fingers from my ear to my collarbone and gently kiss the same path just before he’d seduce me with a toe-curling kiss that was so slow I could feel it in every pore, and so perfectly timed, I’d melt into him as th
ough we were one.”

  Just thinking about that brought heat to my center and wildly inappropriate thoughts to mind. He’d ruined me for all other men, and I’d be damned if I hadn’t caught myself using memories of him to relieve my sexual frustration when I was alone. Chris Moore’s touch could never be duplicated. It only took a handful of bad dates and sloppy kisses to realize that before I quit trying.

  “Hubba hubba.” And just like that, Candi doused my erotic fantasy with ice water. “Tell me all about it. About him. About you two as a couple.”

  “I don’t know where to start.” I’d closed this book years ago, not that I’d moved on, rather because I hadn’t and the ending wasn’t a happy one.

  “Do you still love him?” It wasn’t a question I expected.

  “Yes, I always have.”

  “And you’ve never been with anyone else?” There was intrigue in her question, confirming she’d heard me right the first time.

  “I didn’t really come out of my shell until college. I dated some in high school, although nothing serious. I met Chris at the end of my freshman year, but then we left for summer break, and I didn’t see him again until the fall.”

  She didn’t interrupt me, so I pulled a blanket over me and kept talking.

  “I don’t remember how it started. We didn’t have any classes together. Suddenly, he was everywhere. The library, the cafeteria, the student center. I probably should have questioned it more then, but I was too enamored to wonder why he had an interest in me.”

  “What was he like?”

  “I didn’t have much to compare it to—gentle, kind. You know how most guys change in front of their friends, hide how they are with their girlfriends in some odd attempt to keep their man card? He never did that. I was just as important to him in front of the guys as I was under the sheets. I always felt like I was his top priority…even from our first date.”