Page 2 of Broken Heat
“No.”
Dr. Sedonis handed me a pamphlet that looked more like a vacation brochure.
“At this discreet tropical facility are specialists in omega sexual dysfunction. Their methods are not all medically sanctioned, so they remain off the map, so to speak. For one thing, they offer sexual surrogates.”
Intrigued, I leaned forward in my chair, placing my hands on his desk, and began asking questions. Coah had left me a lovely insurance policy and hefty bank account. Plus, we had lived in a large house with lots of land. I could afford this even if my insurance rejected it.
In less than half an hour, I was sold on the idea and Dr. Sedonis put in all the necessary paperwork.
In the mirror, I watched myself lift my cock up, stroking more for comfort than anything else. I looked healthy and well. Nothing seemed wrong. But inside me everything was a confused mess. I had a broken bond and a broken heat.
I was ready to face the world again, but not like this.
Omega Island was my last hope.
2
Mykel –Unwelcome Thoughts
“I’m fine, sir. I know I am.”
I sat in front of Senta’s desk. The air was cool, the room decorated with fresh golden flowers that gave off a restful, elegant scent.
Senta wore a soft red kimono today, not his usual black one. His dark hair was swept back ending in a slight curl at his neck.
He was a beautiful omega, tall and graceful, intelligent and wealthy, exuding power and independence. In the years I’d worked for him, I had never heard any rumor or talk about why he was still single at thirty-seven. But he was my boss, owner and operator of Omega Island, and it was not my place to ask.
The smile on his face was gentle. Safe. I did not feel judged, but still I squirmed.
“Tell me your thoughts.”
I started to shake my head. I knew better. As a sex therapist and sexual surrogate to troubled omegas, working on the island for the past five years, my experience and training were impeccable. I had to answer his question.
But I had so many thoughts. I didn’t know which ones to speak first. I didn’t know what might be relevant or not. Why couldn’t I turn my excellent training onto myself?
When I didn’t answer, Senta stood.
“While you think about my question, Mykel, would you like iced tea? Or lemonade?”
“Tea, please.”
This was a kindness on his part, giving me time to settle.
He got up to fix our drinks from a sidebar near a huge picture window overlooking the Caribbean Sea. Today, white caps tossed themselves about in the surf. The sky sweltered electric blue, but at the distant horizon it thinned to a smoky gray. A storm was coming.
Senta came up to me and handed me my drink, a dark coldness with tears of condensation already beading the tall glass. A fresh yellow lemon floated on top.
I took a sip and shut my eyes to let myself experience the icy swallow, the leafy sweetness.
I heard Senta take his seat again, breathe out, let me be.
He was the best boss I’d ever worked for. Patient. Soft-spoken. In fact, I’d never heard him raise his voice in anger or frustration. His agitation showed in grim tight lips and lowered tones, never aggressiveness. Never meanness. With gentle confidence, he held his power like an invisible cloak. Everyone who worked on Omega Island felt it, sensed it, respected it.
I opened my eyes.
“Mykel, I want to assure you this meeting is not meant to give you discomfort. We want to work with you through this phase. I want to. You’re too good of a surrogate to dismiss. But this is somewhat serious. And so I have to ask. Is your rut cycle disturbed, and if so, is there a reason?”
Sex talk never embarrassed me. I was used to it. Always open. Used to the ease and beauty from which I viewed the subject and completely uninhibited by my body’s ability to function sexually for all healing techniques.
