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Chapter1
Amelia
Present Day
“Great. Now I want you to tell John what you want him to do to you.” With a nod of my head, I encourage Melissa to voice her desires to her husband.
She takes a deep breath and then speaks. “I want him to fuck me hard with his big, thick cock, so hard that he makes me scream. I want rough sex, sweaty sex, the kind of sex that makes you melt into a puddle afterward.” John’s eyes go wide. “I want him to spank me, blindfold me, tie me up, and treat me like a woman he can’t get enough of. And I want us to both lose control together.”
Swallowing after that admission, I fight to stay in therapist mode. “That was good, but I want you to say that to him. Turn to face him.” I watch her twist in place as John remains facing forward. “John, turn to your wife. Listen to her. She’s trying to tell you what she needs, what she wants. How often do men wish women would just tell them what they want?” I gesture to her with my hand. “She’s telling you this right now. Really listen to her.” He inhales and then turns to face her, but then his eyes drop to his lap. “Look at her, John.” His eyes lift reluctantly.
“John, I want you to fuck me so hard with your huge dick that I can’t walk the next day. I want it so hard that I scream and wake up the neighbors. I want you to fuck me like you did before we had kids when it was just us and all we’d do is lie in bed all day and go at it like rabbits. I need it, John. I need to feel like you still want me.”
He sighs. “First of all, where on earth did you learn to talk like that, Melissa? And second, that was different. We didn’t have kids. We didn’t work full-time jobs. We didn’t have this life now, and I’m freaking exhausted by the end of the day.”
Melissa slumps in her seat as her eyes shift in my direction again. “See? This is what I get in response.” Then she turns back to her husband. “I’m not saying every night. And I know that having sex all day is unrealistic now.” She places her hands over her chest. “I just want to feel like you want me, that you desire me, that you think about me all day and can’t wait until the kids go to bed so we can be alone and you can show me that I still make you horny. Lately, I don’t even know if you find me attractive anymore.”
“Of course, I find you attractive,” he argues. “But by the time we get in bed, I can barely keep my eyes open. Work is crazy, and the kids have so much energy I feel like I can’t keep up with them and you. And please don’t take this the wrong way, but you never used to want sex as much as you do now. The past few years, we’ve been lucky to do it once a week, sometimes once a month.”
“The kids were babies. I was exhausted and felt like a stranger in this new body. But now I want it, I need it. My body is craving it, John. I can’t explain it, but the important thing is that I want it with you, my husband.”
“Melissa has entered her thirties in the last few years as well, John,” I interrupt to clarify something. “And it’s very common for a woman’s sexual desires to peak when she reaches her thirties.”
“But that’s where mine were in my twenties,” he replies. “Now I feel like I’m a shitty husband that can’t give her what she wants because my libido has sailed.” He hangs his head as I see Melissa’s lips tremble, so I try to defuse the situation.
“You two are in a very exhausting phase of your lives right now—raising kids, working each day, managing a house—it’s a lot. And sometimes, sex can feel like just another thing you have to do. But maintaining that physical relationship is what will keep your marriage together. Remember that your children will leave one day, and the person that will still be there is your partner. Sex will help you feel connected as husband and wife and not just glorified roommates, or this person that you share a bed with.” Melissa wipes a tear from her eye. “You guys are making great progress, and I think we can get you where you want to be.”
“I love you, John. You are the man I want to be with, but I need sex. And I don’t want to see everything we’ve built together come apart because of this.” Melissa reaches out for her husband’s hand, and I watch his eyes well with tears as well.
Turning to her, he speaks. “I love you too. I just don’t know how to muster up any more energy. I don’t want our marriage to unravel either, but knowing that you’re unhappy makes me feel like less of a man.”
A thought occurs to me, and I’m grateful for this contact I’ve made in recent years. “You know, John, I have a colleague I’d like for you to speak with if you would be willing. He owns a men’s health clinic, and I think you would benefit from getting your testosterone levels checked.”
“What? Why would he need that?” Melissa asks.
“Well, one of John’s major complaints is exhaustion, and you’d be surprised how many men have lower than normal testosterone levels and how that affects their overall energy level as well as their sex drive. I have many former clients who had their levels checked, especially after a vasectomy, started doing weekly injections, and many areas of their health, including their sex lives, changed drastically. It may be something we can look into.”
Melissa turns back to her husband. “Would you be willing to do that?”
John shrugs. “At this point, it’s worth a shot.”
“Excellent.” The timer on my phone to my left goes off, signaling the end of our session. “Okay, well, that sound means our time is up, you two. I’m very proud of what you were able to voice today. Melissa, especially. You were very honest about your feelings, and that takes a lot of courage. Shall we schedule another visit for next week? Same time?”
“Yes, Dr. St. Clair. Please,” Melissa replies with a hint of desperation in her voice. The poor woman. All she wants is her husband to fuck her sideways, and she can’t get what she needs. And I know John loves her—that’s not the problem. I’m almost positive there’s something going on internally with him that we can fix relatively quickly, and if it’s not that, then I will do my best to help them figure this out.
It’s the part of my job that I love because I know I can make a difference in their lives—come hell or high water, I will help them. I will help them achieve the best sex of their lives and keep their marriage together.
“Perfect. Just remember, next time we will be in my new office off Westchester.” I jot down their names in my planner and then rise to see them out. As we walk to the door, I grab a card for the clinic, handing it to John. “Here you go, John. I promise these guys will help you and make you feel very comfortable talking about how you’re feeling. This is individualized care, and at least with a few tests, we will have a starting point to figure out if there is something physically going on that’s preventing you from being intimate with Melissa.”
“I appreciate it,” he says with a sigh. “This is all just overwhelming.”
Resting a hand on his shoulder, I look between him and his wife. “I know, but you two took a huge leap to solve the issues going on in your marriage just by being here. A lot of couples don’t have the courage to do that. That action alone tells me you want this, and my job is to help you achieve the marriage you both need and want, the kind that lasts a lifetime.”
With a parting smile and a hug from Melissa, I watch my last couple of the evening leave my front yard, closing the door behind them.
“That went well,” I mumble to myself before returning to their chart and making a few last-minute notes before packing up my notebooks and planners for the day so I can now shift into resting at home for the rest of the evening.
I can’t wait until next week when I will no longer be holding my client sessions out of my house but finally in an office of my own. Working from home has been convenient, but now I’m itching to separate my personal and professional life. And the space I found is perfect, centrally located in LA so my clients don’t have to drive out of their way for their sessions.
It’s crazy to think I’ve been a practicing sex therapist for almost five years now since I worked my butt off in college to finish early and do my mandated internship hours, all before I turned twenty-six. But building a brand and name for myself as a licensed marriage and sex counselor has been extremely gratifying—and I love that I get to help people achieve the greatest sex of their lives with their partners.
Now if only I could find my own.
Before I continue, let me set the record straight—I, Amelia St. Clair, am no nun. I am not a virgin, nor have I had nothing but mediocre sexual experiences in my life. On the contrary, I have had some incredible sexual partners. But here’s the thing—once these men learn about what I do for a living, a lot of them can’t handle it. They feel like I’ll be judging their every move, psychoanalyzing them during every conversation, or judging them sexually. That’s why I tend to drop my specialty after we’ve slept together, if it ever gets that far.
It makes dating difficult. My friends say I’m quirky, and my job makes me interesting, but sadly, most men just can’t handle a sexually confident, open and honest female. So, with the exception of partners back in college and a few first or second date hook-ups in the last five years, I’m still searching for my partner—the person that I can be open and honest with, that will fight for the intimacy that can only be experienced between two people with open lines of communication.
It’s what I strive to give to my patients—and hopefully, one day, I’ll have it myself.
I walk into my kitchen as the rumbling of my stomach leads me to the fridge. As I grab some leftovers to heat up for dinner, I open up my calendar on my phone and check to make sure that my schedule is intact for the next few days before me and my closest girlfriends leave for our trip to Hawaii.
Charlotte, one-quarter of our foursome, invited us to her parents’ thirtieth-anniversary celebration in Hawaii this weekend, so we all decided to make a trip out of it. Usually, we try to do a girls’ trip once a year anyway. This doesn’t necessarily count as that, but Charlotte has been dreading this reunion with her parents for months, especially because of the toxic relationship she has with her mother, so all of us decided to tag along for emotional support.
Speaking as a therapist, there is no better example than those two for a mother-daughter duo that could benefit from a little couch session. Luckily, that’s not my area of expertise, and I would never volunteer to do that, given our friendship, but I soon hope that Charlotte learns to put up some boundaries when it comes to her mother. No one should have to put up with negative treatment from anyone, even if they’re related to you.
As the microwave dings, I grab my dinner and take a seat at the table, digging into the chicken teriyaki, brown rice, and broccoli I made last night as I keep scrolling through my calendar.
Tomorrow is my bikini wax appointment so I'm swimsuit ready, Wednesday is my next pole class, then Thursday night, the night before we leave, is my final opportunity to perfect my new office before leaving for Hawaii. The furniture is in place, and the walls have been painted. But I still have a few pictures to hang, some decor to add to the bathroom, and I want to make sure that the internet is up and running since I was having issues with it the other night after it was installed.
All of the stress will be worth it once everything's done. I just need to keep reminding myself of that to prevent an imminent panic attack from coming on.
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