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Monologue

The first appointment of the day is going to be a breeze, and then I’m free to play as I wish until after lunch. One of my favorite couples is scheduled for 10am; Mr. and Mrs. Antoine Baker. Antoine and his wife Monica only recently married and they haven’t been a couple for very long. Their relationship basically seems to suffer from a lack of communication in the bedroom. Monica can’t find the necessary method to keep her husband’s attention like she did before they got married. She was just nasty enough to get Antoine to marry her and then her efforts pretty much fell off. After months of the same ole’ sex schedule, he was clearly fed up, and he started hunting for a mistress. He loved Monica, but sexually she was not able to satisfy his appetite and needs. Antoine needed to able to bust all of his mannish desires into a beautiful thick sister. A woman who would allow him to put it in all the places his thick creamy man load could fit. He also felt that if he was a good man to his woman she should allow him to insert his muscle pipe in some of the places it wasn’t supposed to fit. She would play with his fluids as if they were of her and as he watched she would suck any left dripping from his throbbing yet fully erect manhood. “Desiree” was the name he had given to the figment woman of his sexual imagination, and she was whatever kind of nasty Antoine wanted her to be. She was “the do as you like” and “there are no no’s” woman, and indeed he did like the extremes she would go to for him during his fantasies. Desiree was the fulfiller of every one of his desires and if Monica didn’t start trying to be the woman he needed her to be in their bedroom, she was going to lose him to his lustful inhibitions.

Antoine definitely has the ladies’ man looks; as stereotypical as it may seem. He is a sexy-ass cocoa brown skinned brother with good hair, almost as if he’s of Dominican descent. From what I can see through the suits he wears most of the time, his physique is muscular, around 180lbs, and he’s just the right height of 6’1”. Hmmmm, sometimes when he sits down his manhood bulges and woo-woo, I have to catch myself. I knew he was a pleaser in bed at the very least. He co-owns an internet based business assisting with high risk corporate real estate loans which seems pretty successful. Antoine is a God fearing 34 year old man who’s well groomed, very smart, and sexy as hell. A man truly fit to be called a king.

As I start to review the notes from my previous one-on-one sessions with him, I distinctly remember making a notation about a secret passion Antoine had told me about, something he didn’t tell his wife before they got married. Like any other man in his normal heterosexual state, Antoine wanted a threesome. He mentioned he wanted, “the pleasures of two women caressing him and each other with passion and intense feelings of unity and serenity.” He wanted to feel first hand “how high his sexual peak could go,” as one lady was on his upper torso and the other farther down, playing with his balls. As he imagined the moans thrusting through the walls, he said, “I want to feel the true conviction of ecstasy or at least what I think it could be for me.” Antoine stressed that he wanted this feeling of blissfulness he so desired to become a reality with “my wife,” Monica.

Monica herself is beautiful to the core. At 29 years-old, she’s a very bright and reserved young woman; the typical Pastor’s kid. She’s well-bred and has nice curvy features settled on a small frame. She has thinned, but lengthy jet black hair with red highlights in the front; cut to perfection and resting at the middle of her torso. She’s still in college finishing her Doctorate in Medicine and working hard to continue a family tradition by becoming the third generation to choose the medical profession. Considering how busy her schedule was and how the marriage itself was relatively new, I wasn’t surprised when I learned that the couple had no children

Before Antoine, Monica had only been with two other people sexually. Despite being a preacher’s kid, raised as a God-fearing woman and concealed from the world, she is very much into her husband and determined to be a good wife. She wants to be Antoine’s everything and isn’t sure just how to be what he needs as his woman and his true soul mate. Her upbringing made her afraid that if she were too nasty in their bedroom he would lose respect for her and go off and cheat. This kind of thinking is exactly what’s responsible for Antoine’s boredom. Monica doesn’t seem to realize that overcoming her fear of being too nasty is exactly what she needs to do keep his libido strong for her… and growing stronger. I have to help her take her husband’s desires and make them a reality or the reality she now knows and embraces will be no more.

My afternoon appointment is a totally different situation. Let me just move this recorder so I can get to their file. There, that’s better. I have detailed printed files but in the event of my absence, fire, or flood, I like to have a full audio backup on my clients. One never can be too careful.

So, anyways, this afternoon will be spent with my client Gregory Davis. He’s a gay, middle-aged Caucasian man with a touch of “jungle fever.” His boyfriend, Michael Smith, has been cheating on him and Gregory hasn’t been able to stop it. It ended up being poor judgment on both of their parts, because they each ended up testing positive for HIV.

Now, me being a professional, it was my duty to instruct both of them about the importance of being safe and using protection. I made sure to stress that they needed to practice safe sex even amongst themselves when time permitted them to be intimate. I offer condoms to many of my unmarried (and yes, even some married) clients even if they’ve tested negative for any STD’s. I even offer confidential testing for those that want to know their status, but are anxious about talking to their Doctor or finding out in a clinic. While these are all services I proudly provide, 85% of clients come to my practice because they aren’t sexually satisfied at home, feel like they want to cheat, or have already done it. I feel a sense of responsibility to help all of the couples and single patients find happiness with each other and with themselves. I want them to be and stay healthy; sexually, physically, and emotionally. The counseling is an opportunity to get their feelings out on the table without fear of resentment and with someone who would help them to not be too hard on themselves.

At 33 years old, Greg (as he prefers to be called) is a nice, well-mannered white guy. He finished high school but decided college wasn’t for him. He opted for the next opportunity to make as much money as possible without a college degree and ended up taking a job as a car salesman for one of the local dealerships in the area, where he’s been working for the last 10 years. A born and bred Northerner, he grew up with both parents in the home and had a sister. Greg comes from a very high profile family; his father is a judge and his mother is a partner at a local law firm. He came out when he was 25 and tested positive when he was 30. Over the course of our sessions I’ve come to understand that Greg is often “The man” in his relationships, both in and out of the bedroom.

In addition to the most perfectly coiffed black hair (that always looked as if he had blown it dry before he came to see me) he stood about 6’2” with long, shapely limbs. His body reminds me of a chiseled statue and he always dresses very nice and professional on the days of our sessions. I did notice that he wore a size 16 shoe and can’t help imagining what he’s packing below the waist. Clearly, he has something going for him to have caught Michael’s eye and has even managed to stay faithful to Mickey (as Michael prefers to be called) despite being an attractive man who was constantly tempted.

Now Mickey, on the other hand, was the “girlfriend type.” A relatively attractive and presentable man, he had the emotions of both female and male and enjoyed the company of both genders almost equally. It was a constant struggle, not being sure if he wanted to be gay or straight. And this struggle led him to cheat on Greg, not only with men, but with women as well.

Mickey, a 29 year old, is a very clean cut guy. Standing about 5’10” with a smooth chocolate skin tone, he’s a good ole’ southern boy through and through. He gives off the impression of being a lot of fun with his bubbly, happy go lucky attitude about life in general. But he has many vices; weed, drinking, coke and has even tried meth (as he confessed to me during a one-on-one session a few months ago). He had been working part-time as a customer service representative through a temp agency for the past year or so. It seems to have worked out well for him, since the growing company recently offered to bring him on in a full-time position; with full benefits.

He did have both parents in the home during his early upbringing, though they divorced when he was 15. His mother is an RN at a medical center the next town over and his father had been a construction worker who recently worked his way up to a partnership in the business. Mickey had younger twin brothers, and a step-sister that he didn’t get to know that well. He came out when he was 19, but downplayed his confession by claiming to simply be bi-sexual and just looking to have fun with his options. He tested positive for HIV at 27.

Of the two of them, Mickey is the one who needed to come to the office the most. He knew that he required more intense session time than Greg but resented the fact that he was here with a man versus a woman. Mickey is dealing with a lot of uncertainty about how his health will continue to deteriorate which is complicated by his failure to continue the HIV medication regimen he needs in order to stay healthy. Not to mention, the very serious concern about passing this virus to any of the women he’s been having unprotected sexual encounters with.

Though both patients are of high importance and need my help, they are each a priority for very different reasons. Surely different manners and methods will need to be considered. But I feel that I can save these two couples… or at least put forth the effort by devoting my time and patience as much as possible.

Despite my own frustrations with being lonely and in search of that special someone, I have vowed to do the absolute best at all tasks ahead of me. I need to figure out a way to help myself, as I’m longing for a relationship at this point. It doesn’t necessarily have to be with a man either. I had a college roommate I was involved with that just so happened to be a girl but I never came out to my family about being a lusty bi-sexual female. Would it affect how they loved me? What if my family had their own dirty little secrets that I didn’t know about?

I didn’t have any siblings to share anything with growing up. The neighbor’s daughter, Denise Brown, was friendly and close enough in age to make up for it though. We went to damn near every single grade together. We were often in different classes, but we played like sisters most of our lives. Now, I wasn’t spoiled like a princess, but I did get what I wanted for the most part. My parents, Mr. Henry and Mrs. Delphina Parks, didn’t play those games. While they worked hard to give me better opportunities, you bet your ass I had to work for everything. “No short cuts,” as daddy always said, “They make your mind weak and you can’t think for yourself.” How true he was. I’m so grateful that they were hard on me and I have become appreciative and thankful for what I’ve become. Though I had to pay for some of my own college tuition, I know now that it was well worth it.

I am forever in debt to these three wonderful human beings, especially to my parents, for making all kinds of efforts to keep me on the right track. I didn’t understand that then, but looking back over my life, I do now. Even DD (As I’ve been calling Denise as long as I can remember) helping me bounce back from the abortion that my parents never even knew happened.

It made us even closer. The love is unconditional.

A Day at the Office

DD, who is also my assistant, answers the phone, “Hello, thank you for choosing Sonya Parks Counseling Services. How I may direct your call?”

I overhear the caller on the other line say, “Hi DD,” as if she knew her on a personal level. “I need to speak to Sonya right now, is she available?” the female voice said frantically.

DD, who is familiar with the frantic needs of my clients, just calmly responds, “May I ask who’s calling?” As if the voice of the caller is distorted.

The caller replies, “Its Ms. Delphina, DD.”

Denise quickly says, “Hey Ms. Del, how are you doing?”

The caller chirps, “Girl it’s been a blessed day so far.”

“Okay, Ms. Del. Let me see if Dr. Parks is available.” A cute little, “One sec please,” promptly puts the call on hold and she presses the buzzer and rings my office.

“Hey Denise, what’s up?” I ask, as if I have no idea my mother is on hold.

She mutters “Ms. Del is on hold for you. Line 2.”

I quickly go to my Pandora selection before picking up the call. “What music do I need to have queued up for the mood this lady is going to put me in?” I ask myself. Scanning through the options, I see the perfect song, and laughing out loud I pick up the blinking line, “Hello mother. How is your day going?”

She quickly mutters, “Honey did you forget to order a cake? The shower is this weekend. I called the bakery, and they said there was no order for Sylvia Langley.”

“I did order the cake momma, dang nah. Y’all act like I don’t have other things to do than to worry about than a cake for the baby shower.” I try not to sound as overwhelmed and flustered as her call makes me feel. I love my mama but she can be quite eccentric sometimes.

“Well, they said they didn’t have it and I went ahead and placed the order myself.”

“I did place the order momma and I’m sorry they don’t have it, but I spoke with Samantha herself. I’ll just call her back and cancel the order so there aren’t two of them,” I said, my face red with embarrassment. In my head I say, “If she didn’t think I was going to be able to do it why the hell did she give me the task and then call to check on me like I’m 10 years old. Humph.”

Overflowing with annoyance, I try to end the call with, “Ma, I got to go. I will call Samantha and cancel the order before noon.”

A quick, “I love you,” and “Kiss daddy for me please,” wraps things up nicely, and after returning the love, she hangs up. I drop the phone on the receiver, overjoyed to no longer be talking to my mother.

I press the start button on my PANDORA selection and How Does it Feel? by D’Angelo starts playing soothingly in the background. I lean back in my chair and turn towards the window, running my hands down to gently caress my left bosom and slowly pinch my nipple. The left one makes my middle hot box wet. All the while, singing right along with D’Angelo and never missing a note “I got to know right now. Take off your clothes and…yeah, yeah.” I feel my nipples begin to swell through my silk shirt. That alone, made me want to touch myself, right then and there without hesitation, yet in the back of my head there was the fear of being caught by my assistant or even a patient.

As I gently engage the inner section of my thigh with the hand that just released my tender, yet luscious, left nipple I could feel my inner self moisten. My imagination offers the idea of pure pleasures and self-caresses. I close my eyes and prop my leg on the handy metal file cabinet right beside my desk. My leg is just high enough to lift my pink striped black crossed skirt so that anyone who walked in could see that I’m not wearing any panties. I gently insert a finger into my love canvas and allow the juices to flow as I pleasure myself. I lick my own juices from my finger like it was a sugar craving. “DAMN. I taste good as hell,” I say quietly out loud and continue pleasuring myself with forceful thrusts of my soaked fingers. After a good 10 maybe even 15 minutes of tantalizing the soul of my pleasure hole, I realize that maybe I shouldn’t have done this morning’s self-gratification here in my office. A squirter by nature, the mess I had made all alone in my chair definitely requires having a towel handy.

I don’t know if I’m the most beautiful woman you’ll meet, but I do know that I am sexy as hell and pleasing to the eye. I have long legs and skin kissed with just enough of a tan to make it glow like the sunrise itself. My figure is full but very proportionate, with an onion booty that has just enough cushion for anyone wanting to explore that dark outer world experience with their face. I long to have a man (or hell, at this point even a woman) licking my juices as if it was honey for their tea. Always as nasty as I want to be, lots of other sexy thoughts come to mind.

I reflect that “Me, being nasty,” is a valued asset in my business. My dedication to helping these couples who have lost their way in the bedroom find the right path relied on me being able to fantasize about what I wanted and how I wanted it. My clients trust me; my expertise, my PHD in Sexual Psychology, and most importantly my own personal experiences. They need me to help them save their marriages by teaching them how to keep their partners sexually happy. I’m committed to helping Monica let go of her inhibitions and to satisfy Antoine by being open. To help Greg and Mickey find a way to work around Mickey’s cheating. Truth be told, if I’m not able to practice what I’m telling my patients, if I’m unable to tap into my true self and desires, then how can I ever hope to understand my patients and give them what they need?

The Wake Up Call

The alarm buzzes at 6am. I hit the snooze and turn back over… not ready to give up the warm afterthoughts of my dream. Dreaming of a wild, deep and passionate love making session with the man of my dreams, I was wet and the soul of my womanhood was throbbing like the aftershocks of a major earthquake. “An earthquake indeed is what I need between my legs,” I say out loud, giggling. Yawning and stretching under the covers, the cat in me purrs with contentment. I feel my nakedness soft and warm against the softest cotton sheets with an obscenely high thread count.

The alarm goes off again, louder this time than before. Fighting the urge to hit snooze again, I sit up and turn the alarm off. I know that if I don’t get up this time I risk oversleeping and my crazy Monday schedule doesn’t make that an option. “Sonya,” I say firmly to myself, “Get it together girl!”

I pull my shirt over my head and place one foot on the cold hard wood floor. I sigh heavily… feeling as if today will be different than all the other days this month. I’m not sure why I feel so strongly that today will bring change, but I can feel my spiritual senses getting harder to fight.

I gather myself, brushing the strange feeling off, and continue to fondle the thoughts of my dream as I stare into the mirror while brushing my teeth. “Wow,” I think, giggling to myself and trying hard not to swallow any toothpaste, “That dick my dream man was working with was such a massive pipe; a tantalizing piece of muscle made for drilling.”

I close my eyes and lose myself in remembering the details. His physique was that of a healthy stallion in its prime. His tongue was in my warm hole and my sweet nectar ran in long streams down his throat spilling over the front of his torso. Every ounce of sweetness that dripped down to his manhood made his flexed muscles stand at attention and his thick cock twitch. My juice was the fuel he needed to water his garden. I swear this dream was so real. I close my eyes and I can still feel him caressing my inner thigh.

“She’s a brick… house!” interrupts my thoughts, my cell ringtone startling me out of my wet dream. “Fuck me,” I mutter, “Wondering who the hell is calling me before 8am?”

Reluctantly picking up the phone and cheerfully saying, “Oh hey Ma, Good morning Ma. What sup? You two good over that way?”

“Good morning baby girl! We are okay, yes. After all, God is blessing us to see another day!”

“Yes ma’am. He is doing that. You rarely call me this early unless something is wrong; so what is it?”

“Oh, nothing Chile. Just wanted to hear your voice this morning.”

I could tell right away that her voice wasn’t as frantic and aggressive as it normally is. “Momma,” I exclaimed, and with a little bit of bass in my voice said, “What’s wrong with you and why you acting so weird?” I reach for the shower nozzle and turn it to the start the steamer, thinking to myself “Something major had to happen.” I knew something was wrong just wasn’t sure what it was yet.

She sighs sadly, pauses for a moment, then says, “It’s daddy baby.”

I immediately stop all movement. “WHAT! What’s wrong with my daddy?”

“Well… I really don’t even know if I want to talk about this with you.” After a pause she says, “But you did go to school for this very situation and well I… no, we need your help.”

“Momma, you need my help with what? Where’s daddy? Is he ok?” I asked frantically.

“Hunny your father is fine, I’m sure,” she says, and I can almost hear her smirking while she pauses. She then starts to laugh as if this situation is funny. But then I could hear the dismay in her voice as she continues, “It’s me who’s not fine baby… your father has a girlfriend.” She continues, “I’m sure he thinks I don’t see the changes, but I do.”

Uncertain if I want to drop the phone or just throw it against the wall, I yell, “WHAT!?! Daddy has girlfriend? Since when? What the hell momma?” There’s a long moment of silence on the other end of the phone, plenty of time for me to get distracted. As the steam fills the bathroom, I sit on the edge of the tub, my nakedness starting to form goose bumps on my stomach and thighs. My nipples begin to perk up and stiffen.

“SONYA!” my mother says sharply, “Are you listening, Chile’ of mine?”

I can honestly admit that while I could see my momma possibly having an affair, it’s much harder to imagine my sweet daddy in that position. I clear my thoughts and respond, “Momma. Breathe,” in a stern, matter of fact voice. “Obviously you feel a certain type of way for a reason,” I say to her. I fight back my tears and hold my breath, waiting for her to answer me.

“You know I do feel things sometimes.” “I guess I’s a woman’s intuition.” I mean I just wanted to tell somebody and thought it should be you since we did pay for you to take your ass to school to be a therapist.” Hearing her smile and snicker a little. “So how can we get him to tell us?” “He should know by now that we are tied together as I have his Rib; I would be hurt, but I can’t just leave him.”

“Momma,” I say as I turn off the shower and give her my full attention, “I am so very sorry if I hurt your feelings. That was not my intent at all. Please believe that I am honored and grateful to have awesome parents like you and daddy. Now with that being said, it is super early and I’ve got a super busy day. But I am concerned so let me get myself together and get DD to reschedule my morning appointments. We can just go hang out and talk. Okay?”

“Chile’ you don’t have to miss no appointments for me and this nonsense with your father.”

“But momma, I want to come see you. I think we could both use some mommy/daughter time. I love you momma… see you in an hour or so?”

“Ok lovey,” she replies. It’s what she called me sometimes, when I was a sweet kid or when she wanted/needed me to do something.

I smile, hang up, and immediately send DD a text, “Girl, good morning. I’ve got “family drama!!! I will not be able to make it into the office. Please advise.”

I turn the shower back on to hot. Between the news I just got and then feeling like I let my mother down, I need to wash away the guilt. Quickly, I get my Pandora back to my Crew Love station.

I hop behind the steamy glass doors as the water makes contact with my body. I lift my arms so that my hands can cup my face. The lines of water make their way to my nipples and drop swiftly to my thighs. I lean up against the wall and pull my right hand across my breasts and squeeze my left nipple. I feel the inner walls between the tight squeeze of my wet thighs. I slowly pull my hand across my stomach as my hands catch the drops of water.

At this point, the tears that I had been holding back finally begin to flow down my face and I pull forward for the water to just fall straight down. I realize I’m wetting my hair and that I didn’t want it to be wet but just sigh, knowing that nothing like that matters right now. My parents were going through something, and they needed my help. Leaning forward, I place both hands on the wall slightly above my head and continue to weep as if my whole world has been disrupted. I didn’t need this mess, especially not this morning. The idea that I potentially could be counseling my parents was nothing short of a nightmare.

THE AM SHOWER

I gather myself and my emotions, clearing the conversation out of my mind. I reach for the sponge and bottle of body wash and squeeze out probably more than I should have. There’s no more room in my brain for thinking of anything but the thick and creamy sensations between my legs. This is what this soap is supposed to be for, right?” I say softly to myself, “to be soothing.”

I squeeze another dab for laughs and giggles, and gently rub up one arm and down the other. I glide the sponge across my chest and squeeze as the bubbles race to the center of my stomach, down the center of my midsection and continue to my feet. I hear Aaliyah’s voice as Can I Talk To You starts playing on Pandora.

“Yessss… That’s my joint,” I say out loud and start singing along, enjoying the moment of just being. Still singing, I grab the shower head and turn it onto the massager. I figure why not get that morning shower nut and slowly, my left hand glides over my now full breasts. I swear they started swelling as I thought of the hard bust I would get before work. Pleasing myself has been the biggest thrill of many mornings (and nights) lately it seems. I squeeze the soap from the sponge with my right hand and drop it to caress my now fully erect nipples. I lean up against the shower wall; the water from the shower head still offering its steam. I reach out and grasp the tool that I would soon use to fill my tight wet spot. It had been months since I had a real man in between these legs, but for now the shower head was going to be my cock.

I tilt the water over my face so that it can drip down to remove all the soap that I had previously lathered with, rinsing the soapy lubricant down. Aching with need and unable to wait any longer, I briskly lift my right leg. Propping my foot against the glass wall I make sure to keep the left one firmly on the marble floor so I don’t slip. I ever so gracefully tilt myself so that as I move the acting Mandingo stick down my body, I can use my right hand to separate my clit. I let out a slight, soft moan as if the touch from my own hand was like heaven.

I gently insert my middle finger into my wet hole. I slowly apply thrusts in and out and by the third stroke I slide another finger inside. The water steady dripping now from my breasts forces itself into a pocket that my hands have created while pleasing my g-spot. My fingers are sucked in by the walls of this tight space, almost as if there’s a suction cup hiding in there. I allow my hands to play in this tight hot box until I realize I wanted something more. I remove my fingers and quickly place them in my mouth, enjoying it like it was my breakfast. “Yum,” I think to myself, “I taste so good… as sweet as water before adding the Kool-Aid.”

I continue to move the joystick of water downwards as it reaches my sweet liquid cave. I open the cave yet again and allow all of the hot water to skeet in the spot as if it needed it. I close my eyes thinking of the perfect man for me, continuing the dream I had last night…

I envision him to be sturdy and built, at least 6’5”, 260lbs, with dark smooth chocolate skin. I imagine he has a beard, moustache, and a million dollar tape line, with enough muscles to lift my ass up so I could glide on his dick with perfect precision. Fuck, this water is feeling so good. I have to open my eyes just to make sure this is still my shower head I’m using to thrust fully skeet water into my pussy, versus the man I just conjured up. “Fuck me!!!” I scream out, wishing and wanting the roughness of a man’s touch. Hell at this point, it could even be a woman. She has to be on point though; not filled with drama or a lot of foolish, “sex for everyone,” type shit. Professional even…

I slide towards the seat in the shower, as I feel my legs tremble. This shit feels too good to be standing up. I need to sit down and throw a leg up so that this nut I’ve been patiently waiting for can come out, and without me winding up on the shower floor. I cop a squat, lift my right leg back slightly slanted on the wall and lean my left foot up against the marble, tilted as if it were in a perfectly fitted 6-inch heel. I allow my mind to wonder again to the almost real feeling of this man I created a few moments ago in my mind. I begin thrusting again, hard; almost as if the release I was about to have was like a blow hole from an ocean wall waiting to explode. One hand playing with my clit and the other hand maneuvering the shower head to the perfect position, I feel the pressure of this explosion on the edge and as I push through it, a gust of water splashes out of my sweet water cave. I throw my head back and scream “YES!!!!” pushing out the mother-load of nuts. I needed this release so much and for no other reason, really, than self-pleasure.

After the awesome nut me and the shower man just had my chakra is definitely realigned. I regain my composure, replace the shower nozzle and turn it back to the normal setting. I quickly finish showering and rinse all the suds down the drain. The water starts losing the heat and steam it had. It seems as if I just jumped in seconds ago, but the reality was I had spent the last 45 minutes showering and releasing my juices. I grab a bottle of baby oil, specifically the gel, and squeeze some out. I rub my hands together, allowing the oil to evenly disperse between my palms. I run one hand up my right leg from the hip to ankle and then the other in the same order. With the water still running, I rub the rest of what’s left on my arms, breasts, and stomach.

I turn the knob to the upright off position and reach for my towel. I quickly slide it across my face and run it down to dry off every wet spot. I start jamming out to Mary J Blige’s You Are My Everything, shaking my head to the beat, and I see that my phone is blinking at me as if I missed a call or text. Picking it up and see it’s my girl. I laugh because I already know her nosey butt is saying I need to hear more.

She responded… good morning hmm mmm please do tell. Family drama?

I absorb that little moment of comfort and say softly to myself, “My parents will be ok. We will fix this as a family.” I laugh bitterly at the thought that I will feel like crap for the rest of the day; or at least be in a less than cheerful mood. As a counselor and spiritual believer, I realize that I need to be true to what I tell my patients; that what you put out there will come back, be it positive or negative, good or evil. I quickly decide that I need to take the whole day off, something I rarely get to do even though I am the boss.

Maybe after hanging with mom today, I will get the rejuvenation that she always tends to give me to help fix this mess. Maybe what we both need to refresh ourselves is a spa and shopping day. I ponder on the thought as I walk into the closet to pull out a sundress for the occasion and a nice pair of strapless heels from the box with the brand Michael Kors, written on it. I drop the towel to the floor and slide into the nicely form-fitted dress. I leave the heels by the door. I apply the bare essentials of concealer, foundation and a bare minerals powder. If nothing else, it will hide my freckles just a tad bit and give me a little protection from the sun. I figure I can just throw my hair in a messy bun today because well, we’re going to a spa, and who needs to be that dressed up for that? I have a ha-ha funny moment, because I say, “I do, I do.” Hell, I’m single and I am on the prowl.