Page 1 of Empty Heat
1
Callum –An Intimate Problem
Isweated throughout the entire plane flight to Omega Island. My nerves were on edge even after two glasses of chilled white wine. I’d gotten plenty of sleep the night before. I’d even taken a Xanax. But lately, nothing could touch my anxiety when it came to certain matters.
The plane was private, with an elegant all leather interior. I hadn’t expected such luxury, but I and the other three passengers on board were treated like VIPs.
When the pilot informed us we were minutes from landing, I looked out the window and saw a cerulean sky over a sapphire sea. The two shades of blue merged until the horizon was a blur.
I came from the west coast of California where too often the water churned an olive green hue. The Pacific reigned in darkness compared to the Caribbean.
The gleaming coastline and deep verdant jungle that soon appeared filled me with hope. I could rest here. I could relax. And hopefully, I could receive the treatment I needed.
I still heard the heat doctor’s voice in my head.
“You need treatment that conventional means cannot provide. Hands-on, so to speak. If you’re up for it.”
It scared me, at first. It wasn’t that I was a prude, but my sex life was far from ordinary. My brand of sexual dysfunction was extremely intimate and personal. After my disastrous first time going all the way with an alpha, and aside from a handful of dates culminating in a few fumbling hand jobs, my sex life did not exist. My dates never called me back and I didn’t blame them.
The idea ofhands-onhad my heart racing and my stomach fluttering.
Dr. Sedonis, a highly reputed heat doctor, had gently explained to me what he meant by this unconventional treatment he wanted me to try. Hands-on help was called sexual surrogacy, and it was not recognized in most countries as legitimate. While all therapists involved were licensed, they operated outside of any jurisdiction. Which was why most people had never heard of it.
Dr. Sedonis seemed to be an advocate for this sexual surrogacy, however.
“I am going to prescribe for you the treatment facility known as Omega Island. It is very specialized for omega sexual problems, very discreet, and I’ve seen good results for my other omega patients who cannot be helped in the usual ways. You can take a pamphlet and read up on it. They will call you to set up an appointment. If you decide you don’t want to do it, all you have to tell them is no.”
But I was desperate. Despite having a good job with benefits, wonderful parents and decent friends, my life at hand was incomplete. I eventually wanted a mate who would become my husband, and to create my own family. But at this point, none of that was within my grasp.
I already knew without glancing at the pamphlet what my answer would be. I would try anything.
But the wordhands-onthrew me. When I read phrases likesurrogate assisted sex therapyandsurrogate partner therapy, I was scared. I made that very clear in the questionnaire I filled out.
When I got the call, the voice on the other end of the line reassured me.
“Even after you arrive at the island, no treatments are done without full consent. We will advise and suggest. We will aid you in all ways possible, and only with your approval, for the best achievable outcome.”
The pictures on the pamphlet, which looked more like a brochure, boasted a gorgeous tropical resort. I needed a vacation anyway. Of course, I said yes.
But as the plane came in for a landing, my ass clenched and sweat rolled down my back. Because in the end I knew what had to be done in order to be cured. And I was very sure I would fail.
* * *
Lush and glowing,the world beyond the jungle airstrip overwhelmed my senses. Disembarking from the plane was like walking into a fantasy postcard where red and pink blooms as big as my head bowed as if watching us, and laughing birds with rhinestone wings darted back and forth through fan-shaped leaves.
A blue-bricked path led beyond a huge, leaf-wrapped archway and into a paradise carved right out of the jungle. My mouth fell open as I took in the thick green rolling lawns, mazes of blue pathways, ponds, lagoons, gardens. A large building covered in vines stood to my right, and dozens and dozens of smaller purple and blue cabins dotted the brilliant landscape.
The air smelled of tropical trade winds and new freedom, fresh flowers and healing hope. While there was a lot of wide-open space, tall trees gave shady respite everywhere I looked. Beauty stretched as far as my eyes could see.
On a side path by the building, a tall, dark-haired omega met us. He wore a black kimono-type of robe, tightly belted at his waist. His sandaled feet whispered against the bricks.
“Hello, my name is Senta. I am the owner and overseer of Omega Island. Welcome all! We are honored to have you here as our guests.”
“Hello.” All four of us nodded, speaking softly.
“This way, please. We have a tiny orientation to go through before we can get you settled. I trust you all like what you see so far?”
“Yes.” Again, we spoke in hushed unison. We were too in awe to manage anything more.
