Sexaholics (29 page)

Sexaholics

I
t was Tuesday, and another Sexaholics
meeting had arrived. Seven members showed up—all except Brandi, of course,
and Dwayne and Miki. Not that their reasons were in any way related. It was
Dwayne’s birthday, and Miki had a date with Robert.

With a half hour left to go, after discussing whether or not sex with spouses
was allowed throughout detox, and after two members shared their experiences
over the past two weeks, Rachel Cummings decided to ask Valencia, “So,
how’s it going with your willpower? I mean as far as abstaining from
pushing the limits.” Teela sat right next to her, looking glum.

“I’ve failed.” Valencia’s face was empty.

“I wouldn’t use that word. Nothing is ever over. Failure is not
an option or a word to consider. There’s always another way and another
day.”

“Well, today I’m no longer engaged. My ex-fiancé found out
some things and he couldn’t deal with it any longer.”

“Like what? Would you mind sharing?”

“Like, he found out I was having sex with a woman I had feelings
for.”

“So was it just that you were having sex with her, or was it that you
crossed the line into feelings?”

“Both. He tried to pretend he could deal with the girl-on-girl every
now and then, but he was threatened by our connection.”

“Some men are like that, especially when you’re engaged to them.
They’ll play with two girls, but when they prepare to marry you, if
they’re the type to wed a woman due to virtue issues, to them another
woman is cheating. It’s adultery.”

“But we had a deal. He changed his mind.”

“I can tell this really hurts you. What you must do is really try to
stop beating yourself up. People have opinions and experiences, and the way we
look at things is our individual viewpoint. His viewpoint and your viewpoint
differed. That doesn’t make him bad or you bad.”

“Bad is exactly how I feel. I feel like I’m worthless. Like I
have no morals. Like I never will be worth marrying. I’ll never settle
down and have a family.”

“Valencia. Was it just about your girl? Or something else?”

“We used to have sex with other people all the time. He’d watch
me fuck other men right in front of him. But this time, he found out I had sex
with my girl and her man. He broke it off with me and I haven’t heard from
him.” Valencia’s eyes were cloudy.

“So, it’s about infidelity in his eyes.”

“This man has a masturbation fetish that I could call infidelity, too.
I mean he lusts after anything and everyone. But we met under these
circumstances. We’re both freaky. I know who he is. I know what he craves.
I loved that freak in him. And I thought he loved the freak in me. I guess I
didn’t meet his standards of virtue. Not enough to be his wife,
anyway.”

“And so I guess whatever deal you two had must have changed for him. In
his eyes you probably violated the terms.”

Valencia shook her head and gave an exasperated sigh.

“Valencia, the fourth, fifth, and sixth steps apply. Number four is to
make fearless personal inventory of ourselves. We all must do that without blame
of anyone else, including ourselves, but we must be fearless in what we might
find about ourselves. You must take inventory of Valencia. And fifth, admit to
God, to yourself, and to another human being the exact nature of your wrongs.
Whoever that another human being is, is up to you. But you must verbalize it out
loud because you can’t heal what you don’t acknowledge. And sixth,
be entirely ready to have God remove all your defects of character. All of them.
Be ready and ask. Seek and ye shall find. You’re here. You have sought.
And so, you shall find. But not overnight. These rules will be flushed out and
broken down and repeated and broken and recommitted to and spoken of again, and
again, and again. Know this. And not only know better, but be better so you can
do better. Really look over your twelve steps, not only here but when
you’re at home, at the doctor’s office, at work. Reinforce and know
it. It can and will save your life.”

Valencia leaned forward. “Can I start with the fifth one tonight,
please?”

“You can start wherever you want. There’s no real order. Only
that you focus on getting all twelve.”

“Okay.” She leaned her elbows along her thighs. “I guess I
really do think I’m this adult who tries to distract herself from
what’s normal with what’s abnormal, like I did when I was a little
girl. What’s abnormal is comfortable to me. I tell myself I want normalcy,
but sometimes I think I don’t deserve it, so I screw it up. I guess I just
can’t say no to my weird thinking. When I have sex, I don’t think or
care about anyone who would not approve. I don’t even really think about
sex itself. I just do it. It’s like it’s all body and no mind. I was
a lonely child. And now, even when I’m with people, I still feel lonely.
When I’m having sex, it’s the only thing that means something. I
guess at some point I learned if no one wanted me, I was nothing. My parents,
who were murdered when I was twenty-one, didn’t want me. And it’s
not like they gave me up to anyone else, but maybe they should’ve. And
most Puerto Ricans are very family-oriented with strong ties. Unlike her
strong-willed mamma, my mamma was passive and followed my poppa’s lead, no
matter what. She had very few maternal instincts. I took a backseat to their
place of business. I was latchkey without a key. They didn’t even lock the
doors. From the age of nine, I cooked, bathed, cleaned, let myself in, walked to
school, put myself to bed, and did most things I wasn’t supposed to do,
too. I felt empty and alone. I say some things are not better left alone. And I
was one of them.

“I would always watch my parent’s dirty movies when I was a
child, and believe me, they had a ton of them. The X-rated feelings distracted
me and eased my loneliness. I couldn’t wait for my mamma and poppa to
leave so I could be alone with my pornos and masturbate. The people in the dirty
movies were wild and loose and free, and they didn’t judge my ordinary
life. I can kind of understand anyone who gets off by masturbating. But today, I
crave more of the turn-on. It turns me on, turning someone else on, especially
if it’s kinky. I got addicted to that shit. I’m always thinking of
it. Turning someone else on by doing what I can to get them off is intoxicating.
I guess you could say if I had to take inventory, all of that spells out the
exact nature of my wrongs. I guess right now I’m too broken to be devoted
to one man. I did fuck up. But maybe someday I can be. I mean I’d like to
be.” She leaned back. “And yes, I’m confessing this out loud
to all of you, other people. Other addicts. That where I come from.”
Valencia pressed her breath through her lips and looked at Teela.

Teela gave a warm look of approval.

Rachel Cummings took a moment to make sure Valencia was totally finished. She
nodded and prompted Valencia’s eyes to meet hers, and she smiled.
“Thanks, Valencia. Let’s all say thanks to Valencia.”

“Thanks, Valencia,” everyone said in unison, offering face
hugs.

“We say thanks because not only are you helping yourself, you are
helping everyone here in one way or another to see themselves through your
openness, honesty, and admittance. See, no one is born a sex addict. I’ve
said this before. We must face our childhoods as you just faced yours. Sex gives
us emotional power and control. So how do we get hold of our own emotional power
without sex? Valencia, I’m sure you feel judged by a fiancé who
didn’t approve of your choices. But you must approve of your own. You must
make the choices that make you proud. And you must be honest about what
you’re feeling. For yourself. And for others. You can escape your past by
finding strength to forgive your parents so you can be a fully functioning human
being. The goal for now is to get healthy sexually. You need to nurture,
connect, and love. You have to have a sense of worth and make emotional
attachments that are mutually compatible. The one with your ex-fiancé was
not. It’s time to change that. I know it’s true that we learn what
we live, but the time to heal is now. You are here. That’s the biggest
step. Your sharing is appreciated.

“By the way, we have a member who is going through an example of what
can happen when we continue to lose control over our lust and our lives.
Eventually, we can lose it all. Let us all pray for Brandi. Please hold hands
and bow your heads.

“Dear Lord, Please bless Brandi’s soul and deliver her. Keep her
strong and let your will be done. Amen.”

“Amen,” the members said together.

“Now, in Brandi’s honor, we should mention the next few steps
which include taking personal inventory when we’re wrong. Admitting it
right away. Next, praying and meditating to improve our conscious contact with
God. We’ll talk more about how to do that later. And the last one is to
have a spiritual awakening as a result of all of the steps that we learn. In
that, we carry this message to others, and constantly practice what we preach.
Good night. See you all in two weeks. Stop lusting and become sober.”

The members all said, “Stop lusting and become sober.”

Rachel Cummings had Teela’s attention especially.

Miki

L
ater that evening, Miki wore the
timeless gold diamond tennis bracelet Robert had just clasped upon her left
wrist. It jingled, as did his gold neck chain and charm, as they ground upon
each other. His grind was out of a longing lust for a young lover to remind him
of his youth; hers was out of an appreciative receivership, knowing exactly what
she’d been telling herself, it was what it was.

And as usual, Robert wore a rubber and a brass cock ring on his rock-hard
penis to slow the flow of blood and make his sometimes dysfunctional erection
last longer. Unlike the rumor that all white men go down, this man did not go to
the pussy promised land. Again, Miki had accepted it.

Robert said with a deep voice, “If I could just fuck you morning, noon,
and night, you’d never have to work another day in your life.” The
vociferous sentence spoken out of sheer ecstasy sounded like a pornographic
offer and a sugar-daddy promise.

The room was chic and dark and modern, with gray and red and white artwork. A
small golden fluorescent light shone over their bare bodies from the corner of
the huge room near the hardwood Asian platform bed.

“Is that so?” Miki spoke softer than he did. She was all ears
while riding Robert, bouncing upon his thin but firm frame while he watched her
ex-stripper fuck skills through the wall-to-wall beveled mirror in suite 4118 at
The W Hotel. Robert had strategically adjusted the cream-colored, padded settee
so that he could get a down-home view of himself being fucked by his hot
tenderoni, Miki Summers.

“I’m telling you. Just say the word and I will move you into my
Newport Beach house, and you and T.J. will never have to want for anything.
I’m serious, Miki. I want you.” He spoke to her back, then caught
another glimpse of her round-the-way girl moves through the mirror.

Miki watched herself in the mirror, too, pumping him all the way back to his
brass ring. “You don’t want me. You just want this sweet pussy,
that’s all.”

“This pussy is good, but it’s all about you. You’ve been
available to me for years, and it’s time to go to another level. I’m
not getting any younger. My money can be your money.”

“And what would I have to do?” she asked, getting her serious
grind on.

He spoke a notch lower. “Just understand about my wife. You know the
deal. She’s sick. A man has needs. Just be available to me by living with
me. I wouldn’t be able to be there all the time. But when I am,
you’d get all my attention.”

“So I’d be your hideaway mistress, then?”

“I wouldn’t call it that.”

“What would you call it? And why are we having this conversation while
you’re fucking me, Bob?” She bounced upon him aggressively to
accentuate her question and his eyes shut tight. He grunted and looked like he
was holding his breath.

Even as Robert obviously focused upon fighting the timing of his normally
premature orgasm, hoping the ring worked, Miki straddled the settee, one leg on
each side while he lay on his back in vagina heaven. Her French-manicured toes
flexed and pointed along the russet shag carpet. She was facing the other way,
and she bent over to grab the wrought-iron side of the bench to brace herself.
Still on top, she faced his feet while he stroked her back and grabbed handfuls
of her loose booty. Her ass flopping sounded like thunderous, pornographic
clapping along his stomach.

Miki placed her right hand between her legs and along her own pink love
muscle, stimulating herself manually while his narrow penis stabbed her vagina.
She thrust her hips and masturbated. The more she teased her swollen clit, the
more she felt a rush begin to travel through her soul. The rush that could bring
her to her own peak.