The Perfect Match

I wiped my sweaty palms onto my skintight blue jeans to hold the frosted IPA beer mug better without getting butterfingers and making a mess on the bar. It feels like I'm sitting in a furnace. My vision continuously blurs, I feel lightheaded, and nothing will satisfy my thirst. I had a lot of dumbass ideas in life, but this one definitely takes the cake. I'm nowhere near as hot as my best friend, Skye Lawrence, who looks like she stepped foot out of a Victoria's Secret catalog on her worst day. But I desperately needed this interview from Dr. Elias Saab, a genetically engineered baby and medical prodigy. Dr. Elias Saab is the golden goose I desperately needed to solve all my life problems. A story with an exclusive interview with Dr. Elias Saab had every reporter in the nation salivating over this career-making story.

Nonetheless, he nor his family would give anyone this interview. Hell, I heard he snubbed Oprah and Barbara Walter's people when it came to sharing his story. So, why the fuck did a twenty-six years old cloutless freelance journalist like me think I could convince this tight-lipped hotshot medical extraordinaire to give an interview allowing me to break this story wide open.

My temples throbbed, providing me with a brief reminder of why.

 I am desperate.

 Desperation will give you confidence that you never knew existed deep down inside of you.

 I'm desperate to secure the bag, meaning I'll get a huge ass payout.

 I'm desperate for a full-time position as a New York Times journalist.

 And desperation knows no bounds.

 My dream job came with a salary, paid vacation, and health insurance. Only in America do you have to work yourself to the bone just to afford to have the means to see a doctor on a sick day. God forbid you're dealing with a chronic illness; then you're forever sentenced to live and die as a slave to some big corporation to avoid allowing a health condition to become your kryptonite. I take a large gulp of my IPA to satiate the sandpaper feeling in my mouth as my eyes dart over to my target. He's even more beautiful than the images of him on the MatchMate dating app. No wonder I had to resort to threats, tears, and practically trading my firstborn baby to get Skye to agree to help me with this batshit crazy scheme. The man is not only a world-renowned surgeon and rich beyond anyone's wildest dreams, but he'd give Rege—Jean Page and Chris Hemsworth a run for their money in the looks department. I feel a slight tinge of guilt burning in my stomach, watching him frustratingly run his fingers through his beautiful thick ink-black hair. He glances at the Patek Phillippe on his wrist, his piercing crystal blue glare snagging on my face. I attempt my best flirty smile, twirling one of my curls around my finger and trying not to throw up the communal bar peanuts only a reckless idiot like me would be brave enough to devour. I'm hopeless when it comes to flirting or getting men to want me, so I feel like a try-hard tart in my attempts to capture Dr. Saab's interest.

I let out a deep breath when his beautiful blue gaze locks on me. So, Dr. Saab likes what he sees, which causes uncontrollable heat to bloom in my lady bits. I nibble on my bottom lip, waiting for his leisurely perusal of my body to land back on my face. Once it does, I toss him another smile before making my way down the bar and stealing the empty seat next to him. When I turn to face him, he greets me with a blinding megawatt smile putting me at ease for the first time in a week since he agreed to meet Skye for a date, and she told him to meet her at this trashy bar that I chose.

"Bad night," I yell in his direction over the shitty band covers that constantly play on repeat in this hipster dive bar. He gives me a shrug before taking a sip of the amber liquor in his tumbler.

"I got stood up by a chick I met on a dating app. But I'm still in the company of a beautiful woman. I can't complain," he flirts, causing butterflies to flap their wings in my stomach. Shit! I am so close to my dream I can taste it. I've caught the interest of Dr. Elias Saab, even if he just sees me as his consolation prize for the night. I snort to myself as if I'd even be considered a consolation prize to my sexpot best friend.

"Aw, poor baby. I guess that's my good luck; some girl was dumb enough to stand up a hottie like you," I coo, touching his muscular forearm, trying to be flirtatious. He looks at my hand and then my face before breaking out into laughter, signaling to me I am indeed a terrible fucking flirt. I snatch back my hand like a silly child that touched a hot stove. Shit, this was so fucking stupid. I should've just whored out Skye to get the story for me. It didn't matter who asked the questions when I'd be doing the rest when it came to this news breaking article.

"You're cute. Let me buy you a drink," he shouts over the music, twirling one of my curls around his finger. I smile and nod my head. Dr. Saab calls over the bartender ordering a few shots and refills on our current beverages of choice. I get lost in his eyes, his charisma, and that beautiful smile as we talk and plow each other with a few beers. I look into his crystal blue eyes noticing they're slightly glazed from his drunken haze, which makes me feel giddy inside. I remove my phone from my small black secondhand crossbody, place it on the bar, open the voice memo app, and discreetly hit the red button to record. Well, shit, I didn't think this through because the bar is too fucking loud. Hell, I should've told Skye to stand him up at a fucking coffee shop. But, then, I wouldn't have hoped that a few alcoholic beverages would make him loose with his lips once he was three sheets to the wind.

"You know Elias, I think I may have heard of you and the work you've done in your medical career. I believe it said something about you being like a boy wonder and medical prodigy that likened you to having an I.Q. greater than Einstein's. I believe it said you were done with medical school and a doctor by the age of fifteen. Is that true," I ask, trying to mask my eagerness. My goal was to ask these questions in a way he wouldn't get suspicious while trying to sound like a slutty slush trying to boost his probably overly inflated ego.

He looks at me, his eyes suspiciously narrowing in my direction as if attempting to read my mind. After a long pause, he begrudgingly responds with a noncommittal nod of his head. Fuck, I don't think he's drunk enough with the cheap shit they sell at this seedy bar. All the drinks we've been downing were probably more water than alcohol in the ratio of the drinks they serve. Geez, this was a really stupid fucking idea. I wanted to stand, excuse myself to the restroom, and never come back, but I had jumped through hoops to make this chance meeting happen, so I had to stick with my plan. I let out a deep breath trying to gather my thoughts to better continue slyly with the task at hand.

"I read something interesting in the article about your family history. Is that why you wanted to go into medicine, or did you watch a ton of Grey's Anatomy and think oh hey, I could do that," I asked, realizing too late it was the wrong question to ask. He snatches my phone from the bar where I placed it face down; turning it over, he sees it set to record. He narrows his eyes at me, letting out a loud scoffing noise. His eyes are a dark menacing grayish blue like a thunderous stormy sky.

"You’re a fucking reporter or journalist, aren’t you,” he seethes, holding my phone out of reach from my grasp when I try to grab it. He stands to his full height holding my phone above his head, laughing as I try to jump for it to no avail because of our stark height difference. Sometimes, I enjoyed being fun size because it allowed me to move in and out of places easily, but other times, I hated standing at five feet nothing. Dr. Elias Saab towered over me, probably over a foot taller than me.

“Give me back my fucking phone, you asswipe,” I yell, stomping my feet, ready to claw his eyes out.

“I’m the asswipe? Yet, you’re the bitch that thought you could prod into my personal life, sweetheart. To think I was only entertaining you to get easy pussy in this dump of a bar. Pity. How should I pay you back by wasting my night,” he questions sinisterly, insulting me with his crass words as he dangles my iPhone slightly above my IPA. I suck in my breath at his threat of dunking my lifeline into a mug of beer. Fuck, I couldn’t afford to buy another one. I felt hot tears well in my eyes, tension thumping in my head, and my vision began to blur.

“Please give me back my phone, and I’ll leave,” I cry, my voice trembling as I try to swallow around the big thick, scratchy lump in my throat. He pockets my phone in his dark-washed jeans, waving the bartender over to get the check. Ignoring my distress, Dr. Saab takes his sweet-ass time paying his tab, causing my heart to practically beat out of my chest. He grabs me hard by my elbow and tugs me out of the bar. I try to wiggle my body out of his grasp, but I receive evil stares as drunken people yell at me to watch where I’m walking. I’m greeted by the cool breeze of the New Jersey night before Dr. Saab tightens his hold on my elbow, swinging me around to stare into my unguarded face. The fury that marred his face only intensified his beauty, making my clitoris throb and my nipples tighten.  

“Give me back my fucking phone, asshole,” I bite out through clenched teeth. I hold my chin high, trying not to give into my fear because a strange man has a death grip on my arm, and we’re standing in a poorly lit area outside of a crappy bar that only broke asses like me and drunks that go bump in the night frequented.

“Of course, I’ll give you your phone back, sweetheart. But I have a few questions of my own, first. Like what are you willing to do for it? Actually, better yet. I have a better question for a slimy bitchy snake like you since I can smell your desperation to get my story. What are you willing to do for your phone and an interview with me,” he sardonically questions, letting go of my arm to fish my phone out of his pocket, waving it smugly in my face.

I needed my phone more than anything, but most importantly, I was willing to go to great lengths to get this story.

 I let out a huff, and in a barely audible whisper, I vocalized my answer, “Anything.” He gives me a small smirk, extending his hand, a beautiful big hand that has saved many people’s lives. But the outstretched hand of Dr. Elias Saab I take is one that seals my fate that I’ve just made a deal with the devil unbeknownst of the fine print.

I stand in the center of Dr. Saab’s dimly lit luxurious Paulus Hook’s brownstone with my mouth agape. I’m in awe of the gorgeous view I can see from his floor-to-ceiling windows. His living area looks like the homepage of the Restoration Hardware website. The aspirational brands which I online window shop then go to Home Goods and Goodwill to get similar furniture to match the aesthetic. I am envious of this gorgeous man; he’s living the dream, which makes my growing dislike for him even stronger. As pretty and grandeur as his home is, it lacks any personality. It’s cold, missing game consoles and photos of family and friends. Upon first glance, you’d think you’d walked into a staged home. I shiver, feeling chilled to the bone. What if Dr. Elias Saab is a serial killer? Damn, I’m a fucking idiot. Why the fuck would I accompany a strange man to his home?

What good is Dr. Saab as a golden goose if I’m fucking floating at the bottom of the Hudson River? My heartbeat accelerates like it’s about to take flight out of my chest, my palms become clammy, and my vision blurs. I have to get the fuck out of this madman’s home. I whirl around to walk toward the door, but Dr. Saab stands between me and the foyer. His big frame is a looming presence feeling larger than life from where I stand. His beautiful crystal blue eyes collide with mine as a slight grin tilts the corner of his perfect full rose-colored lips.

“Unlike you and your scum of the Earth coworkers, everything I ask of you will be consensual, and you have the liberty to stop at any time or say no to anything. If you don’t agree with what I want to do, I will call you and Uber to take you back to that dump of a bar or whatever dumpster, trash like you crawled out of,” Dr. Elias Saab berates, slowly walking toward his beautiful stone fireplace. I feel like the room gets chillier with every insult he hurls toward me as he moves to stand closer to me, causing my skin to break out in gooseflesh and the hairs on the nape of my neck to stand tall.

“Um, okay? You aren’t going to ask me to help bury a body or anything? Do you have women hidden in the walls somewhere,” I nervously question, rubbing my sweaty palms on my tight jeans.

“Jesus, how can someone as hot as you be so fucking weird? Is this why you chose a trash profession? That way, you get to tell other people’s stories how you want to because no one wants to listen to the straight shit that comes from your mouth,” Dr. Elias Saab guffaws, placing his phone on the mantel of his fireplace and setting it to record on video mode. I feel my stomach plummet, unable to feel any flattery that a hottie like Dr. Saab finds me attractive. I swallow hard, trying to relax my body and hold my head high. I learned a long time ago bullies smell fear, and when they do, they bathe in that shit to only fill their arsenal with what they need to destroy their target.

“Let’s get to it. What the fuck do you want from me? I need your story so we can get out of each other’s lives as quickly as possible. I’ll be sure to leave out the fact that you’re a spawn from Hades’ ball sack, too,” I bellow. I’m surprised by how strong and steady my voice sounds since I’m internally shaking like a leaf. A broad smile crosses Dr. Elias’s handsome face. I get a better view of the beauty in his Arabic features, the lovely contrast of his deep olive skin against those crystal blue eyes. No matter how menacing his smile, my breath catches in my throat, leaving me with the inability to do anything but marvel at this man’s beauty.

  “I want you to strip naked and fucking crawl to me. I want to record everything we do, so you’ll understand what it’s like to have your life logged, making you feel like your every move is under a microscope. I will answer an interview question for every time you let me fuck you how I please,” Dr. Elias Saab annunciates each word through clenched teeth. He smirks at my hesitation, crossing his arms over his broad chest and pulling his black tee taut across his mouthwatering muscular pectorals.

“I’ll only consent if the video doesn’t get shown to anyone,” I answer warily, watching his jaw clench. I once read a quote on Instagram that said a man will tell you he has a place he wants to take you and will take you to the lowest point in your life. Dr. Elias Saab wanted to take the anger he harbored against the media out on me. The gorgeous, powerful man that had everything at his fingertips wanted to humiliate me. I swallowed hard, feeling cornered by my desperation with no escape plan in sight.

“I don’t share. I want you as my fuck toy. I’m sure a career selling sex tapes would bring you more cash, anyway. But this video will be for my eyes only. Now, strip or there’s the door. Also, leave those fuck me heels on, sweetheart,” he grounds out, that piercing ice-blue gaze never leaving my face.

I feel my hands shake as I whip my black lace blouse over my head, revealing my bare full B-cup breasts and the silver rods piercing them. I was an exotic beauty to many because of my mixed Jamaican and Japanese heritage. With the low whistle that leaves Dr. Saab’s mouth, I figure he may enjoy my exotic features, perky breast, and the way my hips flare from my waist into a nice heart-shaped ass. My pussy becomes wet, and my nipples pebble as I strip myself down to my birthday suit.

I wasn’t comfortable in my skin. A lot of times, I hated my body; more times than not, I felt like my body was in constant war with me, losing weight in places I didn’t want and gaining in unflattering areas. But I wouldn’t let Dr. Elias Saab have the last laugh, thinking he could scare me, humiliate me, and have me catching an Uber with my tail between my legs without the story I desperately needed from him. I hold my head high, my hate-filled gaze clashing with stormy blue eyes as I drop to my knees and slowly crawl across the room to sit on my hunches before him.

 “That’s my good girl. Now, take my dick out and suck it like the filthy slut you are,” Dr. Elias taunts, petting me on the top of the head like some puppy he’s housebreaking.

I should be disgusted.

I should be infuriated.

But instead, I feel my pussy soaking, my desire coating the inside of my thighs, and my mouth watering for a taste of this man’s dick. I unzip his jeans, eagerly tugging down his black Calvin Klein boxer briefs, his erect dick springing free. I waste no time inhaling his dick to the back of my throat, hollowing my cheeks and deep-throating the hell out of him. I slowly run my tongue up and down his shaft, running my tongue along the bottom side of his head, causing him to groan in pleasure, his dick twitching in my mouth. I slowly run my tongue down his shaft sucking his balls into my mouth while I fist my hand up and down his dick.

I run my tongue from root to tip before swallowing his dick back down my throat. I savor the taste of his cock. He may think he can humiliate me, but I literally have this man by the balls. On my knees, I’m the most powerful, controlling his pleasure as I change the pace and hoover his dick in and out of my mouth. With every stroke, every lick, every hum against his manhood, I elicit a groan of enjoyment from his throat. I peer up from beneath my lashes and see his pupils blown wide, and his eyes have taken on a sleepy gaze. I feel his dick start to twitch, and his balls draw up. Yet he pulls his dick out from between my lips before he blows his load.

 “As much as I love you on your knees worshipping my cock. I want to cum up that nice tight ass of yours, sweetheart,” Dr. Elias demands, stepping out of his pants, tugging his shirt over his head, and disappearing into another room. I rise to my feet awkwardly, waiting for his return. He steps back into his living area, his dick swinging heavily between his muscular thighs with every step he takes. He sits on the couch, manspreading his thighs, and taps his lap, motioning for me to come to take a seat. I scrunch my nose in disgust as I approach him, feeling giddy.

 “I’ve done anal before. I didn’t like it. It hurt a little too much for my taste,” I say, refusing to meet his gaze.

He lets out a laugh and responds, “Well, he probably didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. But if you don’t want to, I’ll call you an Uber. It’s up to you.”

I watch him lazily fist his cock, leaving me in a lust-filled haze. Dr. Elias Saab has me curious if he could make being fucked in the ass good for me. After thoroughly enjoying his dick in my mouth, the lines had begun to blur between my desire for the gorgeous jackass and desperation for the career-making story.

“I’m game,” I grit out, my eyes darting to the box of condoms and lubricant he must’ve grabbed when he disappeared.

“Turn around and show me that nice firm ass of yours, sweetheart. I need you to spread those legs wide and grab your ankles,” Dr. Saab demanded with a slight smirk, tugging at his full lips. I slowly turn around, spreading my stance and grabbing my ankles. In this upside-down position, I feel a bolt of desire travel through my body, causing my swollen clitoris to throb in sexual anticipation. Dr. Elias Saab jerks me back toward him by my hips, spreading my ass cheeks wide. I feel the wetness of his tongue lick my ass crack before swirling into the tight rosebud of my asshole. I let out multiple moans as he eats the fuck out of my ass, sliding two large thick fingers into my hot wet pussy, massaging the walls of my vagina simultaneously with the tempo of his tongue. My skin tingles and I feel like the room's temperature has skyrocketed. I feel my orgasm begin to build when the palm of his hand begins rubbing in circular motions against my clit as he finger fucks me and devours my ass.

My pussy clamps down on his fingers, and I shatter to pieces seeing stars as I shout out my orgasm at the top of my lungs, quivering in his grasp that’s keeping me from falling flat on my face. I feel a cool liquid glide between my ass cheeks as Dr. Saab coats my asshole with lubricant readying my body for his dick. When his hands disappear from my body, I stand up straight, whirling around to watch him coat his erect dick with lubricant.

“I want you to take my cock up your ass reverse, cowgirl, sweetheart. Turn around, and I’ll guide your hips. Be sure to breathe and relax,” Dr. Elias Saab eagerly explains. He tugs me back by my hips, positioning my small frame above the tip of his dick. I slowly slide down on his manhood, remembering to breathe to ease my slight discomfort at the burning pressure of his dick filling my tight little asshole. He pushes me down at a slow pace until my ass cheeks touch his pelvis. I’m stuffed full, but it’s not a terrible feeling. He spreads my slick wet folds wide, rubbing pleasurable soothing circles around my clitoris, allowing me time to adjust to what can only equate to a baseball bat shoved up one’s ass. I start to quiver and moan, tossing my head back against his shoulder as he strokes my pussy.

I feel my body tingle from feeling Dr. Elias Saab’s hot wet breath fluttering across the shell of my ear. His mouth nibbles on my earlobe, causing me to shudder with pleasure. He pulls me flush against his body, one hand harshly tugging, rolling, and pinching at my nipple while the other vigorously rubs my clitoris.

“Ride my cock like my good little filthy whore,” He whispers against my ear. I plant my feet on his firm thighs, and I slowly start to move up and down his dick. The ridges of his dick massage the nerves of my asshole, and it feels absolutely delicious. I can’t get enough of it as he plays with my pussy while I thrust his dick up and down my asshole. As I get the hang of this position, he abandons my nipples to hoist me by my cheeks to control the speed at which he fucks me up my ass.

He slaps my clitoris hard, causing it to throb in pain until the residual sting turns into a sweet pleasurable feeling. He licks the sweat from the sensitive pulse point of my neck before demanding, “Rub your clitoris while I fuck you, but don’t you dare fucking cum until I give you permission.” I balance one hand on the side of his thigh as he holds me in place by the ass cheeks, pounding his dick into my ass. I begin rubbing my clitoris. We get into a steady rhythm, and I’m delirious with sexual delight. My head feels fuzzy, I can hear the loud deafening volume of my heartbeat in my ears, and I feel my skin flush as my orgasm builds. I try to hold off for a second, but it feels too damn good. Plus, fuck this asshole. I’ll cum whenever the fuck I want. He doesn’t own my body or my pleasure.

I uninhibitedly climax loud and hard and seal the orgasm with a cherry on top by mouthing off to him, “Fuck you! I do whatever the fuck I want, including orgasm.”

“Is that so,” he asks through labored breathing as he continues to fuck my ass, not slowing down or missing a beat. This man has the fucking stamina of Christoph Strasser; he could probably fuck for hours, hell, if not days. He slaps my overly sensitive clitoris hard, causing an electric bolt of pleasure to course through my body. He smacks my clitoris again, accompanying it with a harsh whisper, “Since you wanted to cum without letting me get my nut, too, then you can cum again and again. Now, rub your clitoris until I tell you to stop.”

Obeying his command, I start playing with my pussy switching up the pressure and tempo in which I touch my clitoris. I allow myself to really explore my body as he fucks me. I feel my next climax build, and I scream out another orgasm, my ass clenching around his dick, but that doesn’t get him to cum. So, I continue to rub my clitoris and orgasm over and over again until I’m too weak to continue. Dr. Elias Saab takes over my torture by teasing my nipples, stroking my clitoris, and fingering my hot core that’s dripping wet. His fingers begin to stroke my G-spot as his thrust slows, causing me to squirm around him as I thrash my head from side to side. I feel feverish, my entire body shakes, and I feel like I’m going to piss myself. I begin convulsing, speaking gibberish, and my whole body feels wound taut as the dam breaks and my orgasm squirts out of me as I scream myself hoarse. My pussy gushes all over his hand and my lower stomach like a fire hose.

Dr. Saab slips his dick out of my ass, lying my limp body onto his couch. My body continues to thrash and writhe as my clitoris throb and my center uncontrollably clenches as multiple small orgasms hit me. I feel a loud groan burst through the room, feeling the first hot rope of cum splatter across my lips and cheeks and dribble down onto my neck and chest. I lay there, unable to move, exhausted from the best fuck of my life, and covered in the spawn of Satan’s cum.

While I couldn’t stand the man that had fucked me within an inch of my life, showing me sex didn’t have to be mediocre, I had a feeling coaxing this interview from him with my pussy wouldn’t be the worst thing after all.

Dr. Elias Saab is one of those annoying people that like to sit on the same side of the booth as you in a restaurant. But, knowing him, he chooses to box me inside of the booth just to fuck with me. It seems like that’s become his favorite hobby, making my life hell. It’s been six months since I ambushed him in that seedy bar to try to get the interview.

Six months of torture.

Six months of humiliation.

Six months of degradation.

Six months of the best sex I’ve ever experienced. While his limitless talent of coaxing multiple orgasms from my body makes his asshole tendencies bearable, he isn’t as forthcoming as I wished him to be to make this article about him the career-making story I desperately need. I’m starting to think he’s a psychopath, void of any and all emotions. Most people, when they fuck someone seven days to Sunday, every chance they get, develop some type of connection or at least common decency for the person. Instead, for Dr. Elias Saab, the reverse happens between us. The more we fuck, the meaner the beautiful man becomes.

If Dr. Saab is a psycho, then I’m certifiably insane because, clearly, I can’t stay away from him. It’s become more of an obsession with him or, more accurately, his dick than desperation for him to be my golden goose. The man has me absolutely dickmatized. It’s like we’re caught up in a game of chess with one another, trying to outmaneuver, strategize, and guess one another’s next move. It’s become fucking addicting. Hence, why I begrudgingly dragged myself to the Prime & Pearle Royale, a five-star restaurant, the minute I received his instructions via text.

My skin is itchy, I haven’t had an appetite for weeks, and my insomnia has been worse than ever. I feel like absolute shit. I’m sure the makeup I caked on my face trying to mask how sick I feel looks more like it's Halloween, not fit for a fine dining establishment. My typically rich golden caramel skin tone has become dull, accompanied by a green tint. I’ve been chalking it up to all the anxiety and stress that’s become all-consuming due to late rent payments and a mile-high pile of bills I choose to ignore as I try to fight for a little peace of mind.

I laugh to myself, hearing Dr. Elias Saab’s words ring in my mind that he’d thought ahead and sent me an outfit by courier because he didn’t want someone of my caliber to embarrass him at his favorite Michelin star restaurant. That’s why I’m sitting beside him in a plush cozy booth in the bar in one of the shortest dresses I’ve ever worn, pantyless and braless. Every time the waiter comes by our table, his eyes are glued to my erect nipples showcasing the metal rods pierced through them because it feels like a harsh Antarctic winter storm has blown through the establishment. Yet, my pussy is drenching wet from my knowledge that I’m publicly naked underneath this short revealing designer dress.

“You look like shit,” Dr. Saab whispers harshly into my ear, making my skin break out in goosebumps. My breathing becomes shallow at his words because of the desire his voice ignites in me.

 I roll my eyes, responding, “Gee, thanks! What every woman wants to hear when they get a same-day invite to a dinner date, jackass.” My nipples grow harder, causing me to become fearful that they’ll be able to cut right through the thin fabric of my dress. Dr. Saab’s insults have become like foreplay to me. The frustrating and sinfully sexy man knows all the right buttons to push to make me want to scoop his eyeballs out with a spoon while simultaneously causing me to cream my panties.

 “Take my fucking cock out and sit on my lap. Since you’re picking at your food, it seems I need to feed you,” Dr. Elias Saab demands, causing beads of sweat to pool above my upper lips. It feels like the restaurant went from an artic freeze to the world’s hottest day in Death Valley. I quickly fumbled with the belt of his slacks, hastily unlooping the button and swiftly unzipping his pants. I yank his hard thick manhood from his Calvin Klein’s, the best part of him springing to life before my eyes.

 After six months of dealing with this cruel man, I know better than to hesitate. I slide onto his lap, slightly hovering above his dick, before sinking down onto him until he bottoms out inside of me. By the second month of fucking, we did at-home STI tests, and he put me on the pill so that rubbers would no longer be a necessity. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and a groan escapes my throat when I feel his dick twitch inside me. Leave it to this kinky fucker to want to be seated fully inside my hot wet pussy while he force-feeds me steak, lobster, dinner rolls, and crab-stuffed macaroni and cheese. I’m so hot and horny from sitting on Dr. Saab’s dick that when the waiter comes by to remove our plates, I’m practically sweating, my skin flush, and I’m squirming and kegeling, trying to get some reprieve.

 “Did you guys leave room for dessert,” the waiter questions, feigning oblivion to the weird scene in front of him of a grown woman seated in a man’s lap in a Michelin-star fine dining establishment. Dr. Saab shifts ever so slightly, his hard erect dick massaging my G-spot, causing me to close my eyes and bite my lip to keep from a moan slipping out.

 “Be a good girl and order the devil’s food cake with hazelnut crunch,” Dr. Elias Saab’s hot breath whispers in my ear. His deep raspy voice makes my stomach somersault and my engorged clitoris achingly pulsate. The waiter patiently waits as I gather my wits. As soon as I open my mouth, I feel a lazy stroke on my overly sensitive clitoris, causing me to gasp.

 Damn it!

  I should’ve known this jackass wasn’t going to make it easy for me. He foams at the mouth like a feral dog any time he gets the opportunity to embarrass me. My humiliation is the perfect aphrodisiac for a sadist like him.  

 “C-C-Can I get t-t-the devil’s f-f-f-ood cake with hazelnut c-c-crunch,” I stammer as Dr. Saab swirls my wetness around my clit, amping up the speed in which he strokes me between my thighs. I feel my face flush as the waiter looks at me oddly but nods and scampers away. Once the waiter is out of sight, Dr. Elias Saab’s fingers abruptly stop toying with my soaking wet pussy, causing me to let out a frustrated whimper. I sit sexually frustrated on this man’s dick, counting down the minutes like hours until the waiter returns with the dessert. Dr. Saab checks text messages and emails as if it’s business as usual, and he doesn’t have a horny woman writhing on his cock in a five-star restaurant.

 I let out a slow deep breath when the waiter finally arrived back at our table with the decadent dessert in his hand. He places it in front of us, scurrying off like he knows something is amiss but doesn’t want to jeopardize his chances of getting a big tip at the end of the night. My head feels fuzzy. My mouth feels like sandpaper when Dr. Elias Saab shovels the rich chocolatey cake into my mouth. As the cake hits my tongue, I wait in anticipation for the sweetness to hit my taste buds, but shockingly it tastes like nothing. As he feeds me fork full after fork full, he slightly moves his hips, causing me to discreetly bounce on his dick. I let out a low throaty moan as my hot wet core clamps his dick in a vise grip as my orgasm begins to build. He takes shallow thrusts in tandem with each of my bites. The base of my spine tingles, I get double vision, and as soon as I feel my orgasm hit, I topple off his lap, hitting the ground, and the world around me goes black.

Opening my eyes, I’m blinded by a bright fluorescent light. My head feels heavy, but it’s no longer swimming. My lips feel chapped, but I no longer feel an insatiable thirst I’ve grown accustomed to over this past year. Fuck, did I dream up the last six months? This is the only thought that crosses my mind as I look around and realize I’m in an exam room of a hospital’s emergency department.

 My heart rate accelerates thinking about the bill I’ll be adding to my ever-growing unpaid notices stack.

 I look to my right, my eyes colliding with an angry, stormy blue gaze.

 No, I hadn’t been dreaming about the events that led me to the hospital. Dr. Elias Saab’s beautiful deep olive skin is a ghostly white shade, and his eyes are filled with concern.

“You’re a type one diabetic. How long have you not been taking care of your fucking diabetes, Taniya,” he abrasively questions, grabbing the railing of the bed, spittle from his mouth splashing on my face.

 Shit! Tonight couldn’t get any worst. Dr. Elias Saab has found out about my kryptonite. The bane of my existence. One of the growing reasons why I feel like a fucking prisoner in my body. I feel hot tears teetering on my bottom lash line, threatening to spill from my eyes. I answer his question with a small shrug. He runs his hands through his hair while angrily pacing back and forth in the small space.

“If you weren’t so fucking sick, I’d put you over my fucking knee and spank the shit out of you so you wouldn’t be able to sit for weeks to come,” Dr. Elias seethes, his gorgeous face morphing into one of anguish. The new experience of seeing a myriad of emotions in his typically soulless, unfeeling eyes does nothing to calm my anxiety.

Not knowing how else to respond, I joke, “Promises, Promises. That doesn’t sound much like a punishment to me, Dr. Elias Saab. More like a typical fun night under your riding crop.”

Dr. Elias Saab lets out an exasperated breath, walking over to the bed. He strokes a few stray curls off my forehead and sternly states, “This isn’t a fucking joke. Can you be serious for five damn seconds in your life? Is that too much to ask because you clearly have a death wish.”

I roll my eyes, fucking annoyed with his good guy charade and him berating me. My blood begins to boil, thinking about how this entire fucking situation is his fault. I let out a frustrated deep breath before shouting, “Oh, don’t act like you fucking care about me, and I’m not some fucking pawn in a fucked up scheme for you to work out your pinned-up anger instead of I don’t know, seeking a fucking therapist. Why the fuck do you think I sought you out? Why the fuck do you think I’ve been hounding you and so desperate for this interview? You’re hot and accomplished but don’t fucking flatter yourself, dipshit. A secured interview with you will not only make my journalism career but get me a huge payout and a full-time job with fucking health benefits. Without insurance, guess what, Dr. Hotshot, I can’t get my fucking diabetes medicine and supplies. I can’t really monitor my blood sugar when I’m broke and barely scraping through life. Our healthcare system is so screwed up, I’m on the waitlist for patient assistance programs, so you were the answer to my issues.” I blink furiously, unable to continue to hold back the hot tears pouring down my face.

 The only noise I can hear in the room is my loud, obnoxious sobs. I feel relieved to finally let out the pain but man, do I hate looking weak in front of my enemy. I feel the bed dip beside me. I allow myself to sink into the comfort of Dr. Elias’s arms.

 “I’m sorry. I had no idea. I just thought you were out to selfishly turn my life into a mockery that I worked so hard to escape just for your fucking career. If I had known, I’d have just given you the fucking interview,” He says, barely audible over my sniffles. I snort at that, knowing he’s blowing smoke up my ass.

 I turn to look at him through tear-clumped lashes, causing my breath to catch in my throat. Dr. Saab’s face is ashen, and he looks human and almost compassionate, like he can’t stand to see me hurting.

 “We need to figure out something and fast,” he says, stroking my shoulder.

 I scrunch my face up at him, brows furrowed, not understanding a word that’s coming out of his mouth. Plus, when the fuck did he and I become a “we”?

 “I mean, after I get discharged, we can go to your place and do the interview. Or your next free day, I can meet you somewhere and conduct it,” I say, feeling my chest blossom with the excitement of finally getting this highly sought-after interview. I could practically taste the accomplishment of my hard-won goal.

 Dr. Elias Saab's body goes rigid. He untangles himself from the bed and stands his back facing me. I feel the pit of my stomach fall out.

 He slowly turns to face me, his eyes void of emotion, making my heart lodge itself in my throat.

 Fuck! I knew not even my hardship would get this man to give me the interview with no strings attached. I brace myself for another one of his wagers because this man swears he makes Jigsaw from Saw look like child’s play.

“You won’t be discharged anytime soon, Taniya. Untreated diabetes can mess with your kidneys and lead to kidney issues. Your kidneys have started to fail, but don’t worry, when all the tests come back and the biopsy, I’ll know what we’re dealing with. I promise you, Taniya. I won’t let you die,” Dr. Elias says with a resolute amount of determination in his voice.

The room starts to spin, my vision becomes blurry, and I feel like my lungs are collapsing because I can’t catch a breath.

He wouldn’t let me die?

I needed Dr. Elias Saab to be more than just my golden goose. I needed him to be my savior, apparently.

He gave me the interview.

The career-making secure-the-bag-worthy interview that I desperately needed. In an alternate universe, this is where our paths would diverge. Dr. Elias Saab, the asshole with the magical dick, would walk out of my life, and I’d go on to write and publish a Pulitzer Prize-winning article about him. The EKG machine beeps, pulling me from my introspection back into reality, where I sit alone in a hospital room with General Hospital playing on the television.

For the past week, I continually played on repeat in my head the thousands of different paths I could’ve taken. I had received a full ride to Rutgers University and could’ve chosen a degree with a more lucrative career path, where I would’ve had a steady paycheck and health benefits. But my mind can’t help but think about Ashton Kutcher in The Butterfly Effect. Every time he went back and changed one thing, the events unfolded differently but not in his favor. Therefore, no matter what path I had chosen, all roads could’ve potentially ended here anyways.

A rogue tear slides down my cheek as I remember hearing the words from the Nephrologist’s mouth. I see my proud Japanese father standing stoically, tears dancing in the eyes of my strong Jamaican mother as I receive my prognosis. As more tears fall from my eyes, I feel the phantom death grip of Dr. Saab’s hand when the Nephrologist spoke the words chronic kidney failure, explaining that it was irreversible and that dialysis would be a waste of time. My best bet to living past my twenty-sixth birthday would be a kidney transplant.

I laugh through my tears, feeling the mass of hopelessness weighing heavily on my heart. Getting a kidney transplant could take three to five years, and I am a working-class minority born to immigrants.

A nobody.

A nothing.

Hell, an invisible person to the world.

So, a promising outcome in a game of life where the odds are stacked against me?

 I wouldn’t be holding my breath. I had to find a way to make peace at the doorstep of death with the grim reaper knocking hard on my door.

Like clockwork, the door to my hospital room creaked open, alerting me of Elias’s presence. I had refused to think of him as a person, only referring to him as Dr. Elias Saab or Dr. Saab to keep from the emotional intimacy blurring with the thin line of the hot, no, strings-attached dirty fucking we were doing for the past six months.

He was my golden goose.

He was a project.

He was a cold, emotionless asshole.

Until I passed out on him mid-orgasm in a five-star restaurant, then he became Elias. Elias is the concerned man and my friend that hasn’t left my side since the night I collapsed on him and woke up in the sick bay of this hospital. He is the reason I am able to stay in the hospital without the crushing anxiety of the financial hardships that would await me once I was discharged. At the end of my interview with him, he informed me that he’d be covering my medical expenses, and he kissed me into a stupor when I tried to protest. I am in complete awe of this softer, more humane side of Elias I didn’t see in the first six months of meeting him.

“How’s the article coming along,” he asks, gently wiping the tears from my puffy, blotchy face.

“It’s coming along great,” I lie. We both look at my closed laptop sitting on the corner of the hospital bed. I haven’t touched it since my parents brought it to me. If Elias is suspicious and knows I’m lying, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He turns those beautiful concerned blue eyes on me, stroking the curls off my face in a soothing manner as he continues, “How are you feeling today?”

I roll my eyes, hating when he slips into doctor mode at the beginning of all his visits to my room. I give him a small shrug, unable to hold back my mischievous grin.

“You know, I feel kind of like I need a good and very thorough sponge bath that only Dr. Elias Saab can provide his dirty girl,” I tease, trying to flirtatiously bite my chapped lips, tossing my unruly curly hair behind my shoulder, and profusely blinking to give him my best come hither look. He bites his full sexy bottom lip, his shoulders shaking, before a loud burst of laughter falls from his lips. His laughter causes my shoulders to deflate. I pick up one of the pillows off the bed and hurl it at him with what little strength I can muster these days.

I give him a satisfied smile as it bounces off his broad, muscular chest. My nipples pucker, my pussy becomes slick with arousal, and my stomach turns multiple somersaults as I stare at his beautiful smile. How is it possible that this man is even sexier in his white lab coat, navy button-down, and blue paisley tie? My gaze travels back to his eyes, where I’m met with stormy blue eyes filled with lust. Even as shitty as I look in this hospital bed, my heart flutters to think this man is still attracted to me.

“I’m pretty sure you already had a sponge bath today so that I can do something better for you,” Elias responds, closing the distance between us and lying down beside me on the hospital bed. He takes his phone out of his slacks, places it on my lap, and hits the start button on a video. The small screen fills with an image of me bouncing on his dick, my eyes rolled to the back of my head, and my small perky breast bouncing as I ride him up my ass. I rub my thighs together that are slick from my arousal dripping from my needy pussy as my hot wet core clenches around emptiness.

I watch the video mesmerized as I feel a large warm hand spread my thighs apart under the thin hospital bed covers. My body involuntarily quivers as his thumb flicks across my sensitive clitoris while two of his big thick fingers slowly piston in and out of my vagina. I let out a throaty whimper spreading my legs wide to allow him more access to pleasure me. I hear my moans coming from our homemade porno as he turns my head and begins roughly kissing me. He speeds up the tempo in which he finger fucks me, his palm grinding down on my mound as his thumb makes circular motions around my swollen, throbbing clitoris. I hear his grunting and me speaking gibberish in the video, which makes me feel hot as I feel my orgasm begin to build in my lower stomach. I clench around his fingers as he picks up pace swallowing my moans as I cum in unison with my past sex-crazed self in the video.

I look at him with dazed eyes. Elias pulls away from our kiss, nibbling on my bottom lip. He kisses me softly on the forehead and slowly pulls his fingers out of my pussy. My pussy is so attuned to Elias’s touch that the man is a sex god that can make me shatter to pieces, see stars, and forget my name in under ten minutes, leaving me delirious. He gets off the bed, his hand glistening from me, climaxing all over his fingers. He lifts his magnificently skilled fingers to his mouth and sucks on them, his eyes rolling to the back of his head like my essence is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. His tongue darts out, licking up any residual juices from my sexual release. His actions are the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Elias licking the taste of me off his fingers will be burned into my mind for eternity.

I’m jostled from my naughty thoughts when I hear the door creak open, and the nurse walks over to my bed to check my vitals. She’s a cute bubbly blonde that has me rolling my eyes when she flusters from watching Dr. Hotshot finish licking his fingers, his eyes never leaving my face.

 He gives her a short greeting, excusing himself from the room because he has an upcoming surgery consultation. Once the door closes behind him, the nurse looks at me with a small envious smirk. I feel the heat rising up my neck as if she knows the sins that we’ve committed in this hospital bed.

 “All the women on staff are jealous of all the attention you get from Dr. Saab. He’s so hot but mean. You need to let us in on your secret because he becomes an entirely different person around you. He’s so obsessed with you,” the nurse says playfully.

 I give her a small smile. If only she knew Dr. Elias Saab didn’t like me at all. Dr. Elias Saab enjoyed my pussy and willingness to get nasty with him between the sheets. My oh my, how the tables had turned in a blink of an eye. Currently, Elias viewed me as a burden, a pet project, and a problem to solve.

 Even the nice Dr. Saab came with a price.

 Unfortunately for me, I was paying too much for his kindness. I had to be dying to get this man’s heart to soften toward me.

I feel like an inmate on death row. My prison cell is a one hundred and forty square foot hospital room.

Tick-Tock.

Tick-Tock.

Tick-Tock.

Is the annoying resounding noise continuously playing like a broken record in my brain because I’m living on borrowed time.

The hospital room works as a constant reminder of the death sentence I have brought on myself. Minutes tick by like hours when you wear the invisible shackles of a patient to their cold lonely hospital bed. I have been a prisoner of my failing body for many years, but I had no idea being stuck in a hospital room for weeks would be part of my punishment for years of not taking care of my diabetes.

That’s a lie. I knew in the back of my mind this could’ve been a potential outcome. It’s a deep seeded subconscious truth that I wouldn’t allow past the denial I chose to live in over the years.

I have been in the hospital for a couple of weeks now, and the grass wasn’t looking greener on any side of the street I metaphorically wandered. They wouldn’t even let me walk outside of the hospital room. I had to be chauffeured everywhere in an aluminum stainless steel chariot. I fucking hated wheelchairs. They made me feel like an invalid. But, if allowing Nurse Bubbly Blondie to push me in a wheelchair was the only way I could get a reprieve from my room and pay Elias a surprise visit to his office, then damn it, she could push me wherever her heart desired. It was a poetic justice having to rely on Skye to deliver me a slice of devil's food cake with hazelnut crunch, Elias’s favorite dessert. If Skye had never swiped right on the MatchMate dating app, I’d never have wormed my way into Dr. Hotshot’s life. I smile to myself at the thought as I clutch the dessert box tightly in my hands.

The nurse stops in front of Elias’s office, but we hear an irate outburst before she can knock on the door to alert him of our presence. We both freeze, startled by the loud, clear furious voices having a heated discussion behind Elias’s closed office door.

“So, help me, God. I will hand in my resignation right fucking now. We’re out of fucking options. We’ve tested every family member and friend that Taniya Aoki has, and none of them was a fucking match,” Elias loudly threatens.

“Then, like everyone else, she will wait until a donor list kidney becomes available,” a man shouts back.

“Fuck that. So, she can die before she gets a fighting chance? I was fucking engineered for this shit. I tested myself, and I’m a fucking match. She’s getting my fucking kidney, and I don’t give a shit if I have to quit here and transport her to another hospital to make it happen,” my jaw hits the floor at his declaration.

 “This is selfish. You’re too fucking close to her case. You’re one of the best transplant surgeons in the country, if not the world. You can’t just cancel all your upcoming surgeries to clear your schedule to give some girl a kidney. You’ll put this hospital in a fucking financial bind, and we’re looking at potential lawsuits. You’ll cost us thousands, if not millions. Plus, who would even perform this surgery,” the man yells.

 “I called in a favor. A highly esteemed colleague of mine, that I trust with my life will perform the surgery. I already cleared my schedule, and if it costs me my fucking career, so be it,” Elias shouts. After Elias’s final statement, there’s silence. The door to his office is flung open, barely missing Nurse Bubbly Blondie and me as the man, more than likely Elias’s boss, the Chief of Surgery, storms out of his office, muttering inaudible curses under his breath. Ignoring the nurse, who still frantically stands frozen to her spot in a state of shock, I roll myself into his office.

 Elias’s broad back is rigid as he distantly stares out the window. I plop the dessert box onto his desk, the noise causing him to turn around to face me. His beautiful blue eyes have a haunted presence in them. I open my mouth to speak, but he holds up his hand, silencing me. He crosses his office a few steps, slamming the door in Nurse Bubbly Blondie’s face before locking it.

 “I don’t give a shit what you want. I’m giving you my fucking kidney, and that’s that. The only answer I’m accepting is yes. I’m a genetically engineered spare parts baby that let down my family. I’m not letting someone else down close to me if I can save them. Let me do this. Let me atone for my wrongs,” Elias states, his voice cracking from the myriad of emotions I see dancing across his troubled facial features. I stand on shaky legs, unsure what to say. Since he gave me the interview, the Elias I had come to know carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. He came into this world with the sole purpose of saving his oldest brother, his family’s golden child, and when that didn’t pan out, he never quite healed from that feeling of failure and inadequacy. The poor man blames himself for things he can’t control.

 In his mind, he probably repetitively replays the night we met at the seedy bar, thinking if he had just given me the interview, then I wouldn’t be facing a deadly fate. But this is my cross to bear even if he refuses to let me carry the weight of my poor decisions alone. That cruel Dr. Elias Saab that he shows to the world is cold and soulless because he feels immensely, and shutting off his emotions is the only way he can navigate this fucked up reality we’re forced to try to survive.

If you had told me a few months ago that I’d feel any sort of compassion toward the great and talented hotshot Dr. Elias Saab, I would’ve laughed until I pissed my pants. Yet, at this moment, I mustered up every ounce of fight and strength I had to walk across his office and comfort him.

“Sure, I’ll do whatever you want. This is great news. When is the surgery,” I question, ignoring the piercing shooting pain radiating through my legs as I hug his waist.

 Elias kisses the top of my untamed curly hair, taking a whiff of my scent before responding, “Later this week. I have a friend flying in to do the operation, and the sooner we can get this done, the better. Let’s just hope your body doesn’t reject the kidney.” I feel my eyes become wet as my tears soak the front of Elias’s white button-down. I’m unsure if the tears are from the feeling of overwhelming gratitude or the pain from the severe muscle cramps I’ve become accustomed to as a result of my kidneys shutting down. Elias picks up my small frame bridal style and carries me to the loveseat in the corner of his office. He cradles me in his lap against his chest.

 “Since you’ve taken on the role of my magical genie, will you grant me one last wish,” I ask shyly, pulling away from his chest to stare into his beautiful ice-blue eyes.

“Anything,” he answers, warming my heart as he kisses away my tears.

“Let me take a ride on that magical dick of yours,” I state, unbuckling his pants. I begin kissing him senselessly to keep him from denying me what my body most desperately craves.

He lets out a low throaty groan, pulling away from our kiss and asking, “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror? Don’t get me wrong, Taniya, you’re fucking gorgeous. But sweetheart, you’re extremely sick. Your face is gaunt, and your skin and eyes have taken on a bright lusterless yellow color because of the jaundice. I don’t want to hurt you.” He presses his soft full lips to my forehead, but I ignore his protest by unfastening his pants and lowering his zipper.

“If I ride you, I’ll control our pace, keeping me from overdoing it. Please, Elias. Are you really going to deny a dying girl her last wish,” I plea, not feeling the slightest bit guilty by playing the death card. If I wanted my last meal to be Dr. Elias Saab’s dick, then I damn well would have my cake and eat it too. Elias shudders as I stroke his thick erect dick with my small hand. He helps me to my knees, slowly guiding me down on his cock until I’m filled to the hilt. I sit on his dick, not moving. I sit still with his thick erect dick throbbing inside me, not because I don’t want to move but because I need a second to catch my breath.

 I wrap my arms around Elias’s neck, capturing his mouth in a deep, passionate kiss while he thrusts inside me with a gentle, slow pistoning of his hips. I slowly rise and fall to match his rhythm as our bodies move together in a pleasurable synchronization I’ve only found with his body. I let out a throaty moan of delight because it’s been so long since I’ve felt Elias’s dick deep inside my hot wet pussy.

 “Play with your clit, sweetheart,” Elias rasps as he holds me by the waist, guiding me slowly up and down on his manhood. I reach between my thighs and play with my swollen nub that pulsates like a second heartbeat. I lean back to feel Elias deeper, knowing he enjoys watching me cum as I toy with myself between my thighs as he fucks into me. I focus on the sounds of our flesh slapping together, I watch the crimson blush seep into Elias’s deep olive skin as he peers down, enthralled at the sight of his dick disappearing inside of my glistening wet pussy, and I focus my mind on chasing the ecstasy he provides as I allow myself to get loss in the glorious sensations of him fucking me.

 My hot wet core clamps down around his dick, my hips writhe as I kegel him, and my orgasm hits me, causing me to explode with a shrill scream of bliss. My weak body goes limp as Elias pumps into me harder and faster until he hits his own climax. He lays back on the loveseat, cradling my head to his chest and not pulling out of me. His office smells like sex, and I feel a mixture of our cum dripping between my thighs, but I lay in his warm, comforting arms, basking in the afterglow of our fucking.

 I couldn’t imagine my life without Elias in it.

 The irony of the situation is that this terrible man I couldn’t stand still managed to find a way to wiggle himself into my heart after all.

 We were continuously making trades with one another.

 First, my body for his interview.

 Now, his kidney for all the love in my heart.

I kept my eyes closed, but I hadn’t been able to sleep for the past two days. I vigorously rubbed my sweaty palms on my hospital gown between twiddling my thumbs as I hummed to myself. I always had to be brave in life, and there had never been anyone there to be brave for me. I grew up in a home where no coddling was allowed.

But minutes before heading into surgery, I couldn’t find any courage to calm my anxiety. I had never had surgery, never even dreamt of being under the sharp scalpel of a surgeon. Yet, my first surgery would be the one to save my life, hopefully. I should be overjoyed, thankful, and excited. I guess those emotions would eventually hit me once I was on the other side of recovery. I hummed the tune of Post Malone’s Circles to try not to let myself become defeated by fear and discontent. A warm hand takes hold of my sweaty palm, jilting me from my attempts to ground myself.

“Don’t tell me the great Taniya Aoki is afraid of going under the knife? Ms. Aoki who laughs in the face of death, which by the way, your humor is extremely morbid. Adding to the list of reasons why you’re single and hadn’t had great sex until me,” Elias jokes, calming my nerves. I opened my eyes for the first time since being brought to the pre-operative holding room. Elias runs his thumb over my hand in soothing, circular strokes. He wears a genuine smile, but it doesn’t quite mask the worry in his crystal blue eyes.

“Death is something no one can escape. It’s an uncontrollable unknown we all know will happen to us, eventually. I don’t know if I’m as afraid of the operation as I am of the disappointment of you doing everything in your power and moving mountains for me and my body, possibly not only failing me but also you due to its unwillingness to work adequately,” I say with a small sorrowful smile on my face. Elias is my Lebanese Adonis, even while sporting a hospital gown and those hideous hospital socks.

“Baby. You can’t let me down. As long as you keep that annoying fight about you, I’ll always admire you, sweetheart. Even when I tried to break and scare you, you stood ten feet tall and were unwavering in my antagonization. It made me fucking hate you. But it was that fight that has kept you going in these terrible life circumstances. I envy you for it,” Elias responds. His sweet answer made my vision blur with unshed tears.

“Should I be scared of the surgery,” I ask, holding his hand tighter, never wanting to let go of him.

“No, we’re in good hands with Dr. Gerald Stone. If I’m the best transplant surgeon in the world, then Dr. Stone is a close second,” Elias states with a cocky smile.

“I’m sure he’s probably third since I’d bet my mountain of debt that your ego is probably the close second,” I tease, squeezing his hand.

“I’ve been on both sides as a patient and a surgeon. Everything will be okay, Taniya. I gave my brother part of my liver. I know you know that from the interview. That he had acute myeloid leukemia. We had done everything, I’d donated stem cells and bone marrow, and he just needed that piece of my liver to survive-” Elias starts, but I interrupt him.

“Not really a story someone wants to hear before going into a supposed life-saving procedure,” I jab, trying to take his mind off the terrors of his past that the burden he was helping me shoulder had probably dredged up for him.

“You’re right. I mean, he made it out of the surgery. It was just the months later that we didn’t see coming. But anyway, I never told you why I hated the media. Well, until I met this spitfire annoying-ass gorgeous short stack with an addicting pussy that happened to be a journalist. My parents were famous, wealthy, and used to being in the public eye. However, no one is prepared for a media shitstorm amid their grief. The misconstrued interviews and the constant reminder in print of the pain we all suffered after my brother’s death tore my family apart, doing irreparable damage,” Elias says, a single tear running down his cheek that he quickly dashes away with his free hand.

“I can only imagine. I feel terrible. I was operating with tunnel vision, only thinking about my own personal gains. I’m so sorry for my selfishness Elias,” I  say, choking back tears.

“Never apologize. It’s what brought you to me. I was a shell of a man before you, and my world wouldn’t be the same without you. Taniya, no matter what happens, just know that I-“ Elias declares, but I silence him with a loud shush.

“Let’s discuss our feelings on the other side, Dr. Elias Saab. I have a lot of things to say to you. But I haven’t had my wits and strength to give you the tongue-lashing you deserve for bulldozing over me and being demanding and bossy. At the same time, I was a dying weak girl lying sick in the hospital,” I joke, attempting to soften the blow of my refusal to hear any declarations he wanted to provide in this emotionally charged moment. I couldn’t bear to allow myself to feel false hope that a man like Elias could feel anything besides hatred for me. I couldn’t let that warmth blossoming in my chest be snatched away from me when we were out of the darkest moments of my illness.

“Well, know this, sweetheart, I’ve been falling for you since you crawled across my living room to me. I was enamored by your beauty the moment I stepped foot into that shitty bar. I’m all in with you and our relationship. You’re my girl. We go together. That was kind of my master plan. I thought if I gave you a kidney, you could never break up with me. You’re stuck with this; how do you like to put it, ‘this kinky fucker’, Elias jokes, bringing my hand to his soft sexy pout and kissing it.

“Oh, to think you have my parents thinking your diabolical psycho ass is a selfless man. I knew with you and the games you love to play, there had to be a string attached to you giving me a kidney,” I whispered, rolling my eyes. Our moment is interrupted by the sound of the curtain opening and the circulating O.R. nurses telling us it’s time to rock and roll.

They roll us in our beds down the hall together until there’s a fork in the hallway where we have to split to go to our separate operating rooms. I blow him a kiss as he gives me the universal blow job sign by pushing his tongue against his cheek, causing the nurses to blush and burst into laughter.

Once in the operating room, the anesthesiologist covers my mouth with a clear mask and tells me he will count backward from ten. I nod my head slowly.

Even through all of the surrounding buzz in the operating room, I hear him start his countdown.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

And the last thing I envision before being swallowed by darkness is Elias’s megawatt smile and gorgeous crystal blue eyes.

I opened my eyes feeling groggy like I was having an out-of-body experience. It reminded me of that one time I went to Burning Man on a work assignment, did shrooms and edibles, and drank mysterious trash can punch. I felt a warm, familiar hand grip mine. I turn to look at my mother’s soft smiling eyes. While I was happy to see my mother at my bedside, her hand wasn’t the familiar touch I longed for.

“Where’s Elias? When can I see him,” I ask, my voice sounding strange, hoarse, and distant. My mother poured me a glass of water which I took graciously. The cool refreshing liquid hit my tongue, feeling heavenly against my throat.

“I’m not sure, T. Let me get the nurse,” my mother says, getting up and leaving my hospital room. It felt like she was gone for an eternity when she finally returned to my room with a nurse, a doctor, and a handsome Black man in a designer-tailored suit. I placed my hand on my warm forehead, ensuring I wasn’t still under anesthesia and genuinely awake. My mother resumed her seat in the chair at my bedside, grasping my hand. I could feel the warmth radiating from her body, so I knew I wasn’t in a drug-induced haze.

“Ms. Aoki, I’m Dr. Gerald Stone, the transplant surgeon. I have already spoken with your family, but I wanted you to hear from me that your surgery was a success. If your body doesn’t reject the kidney, the transplant will be considered a victory. Which is great news for you, meaning that you’ll be looking forward to a happier and healthier life as long as you take care of your diabetes,” Dr. Stone informs me with a tight smile. I look over at my mom, who beams at me with happy tears filling her eyes. I gave her a broad smile, excited about the great news.

“I’m happy to hear it. How is Elias, and when can I see him,” I reiterate the previous question I had initially asked my mother. The mention of Elias’s name filled the room with awkward tension, causing it to feel like the good energy was sucked out of the atmosphere. The attractive G.Q. modelesque Black man stepped forward, causing me to furrow my brows in confusion.

“Hi, Ms. Aoki. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Eli speaks so fondly of you. I didn’t know if I should be happy or envious because that man hates everyone and only tolerates me, and I’ve been his best friend since childhood,” the man says.

“And who are you, and how do you know Elias,” I question, puzzled. I didn’t even know Elias had friends. Let alone someone close enough to call him “Eli”.

“Sorry, I’m his attorney, Jackson Stewart. I tend to talk a lot when I get uncomfortable. I know, crazy, right, especially since I’m an attorney. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances, but there were some complications with Eli’s surgery-” Jackson reported, causing my head to swim.

“Complications? He’s not dead, is he,” I question with bated breath.

“No, he’s still alive. We’re just not sure if he’s going to make it through because of the extent of the complications and potentially serious infection, which is why I’m here to speak with you, Ms. Aoki,” Jackson solemnly continues, handing me a manilla envelope. I reach out, taking the large envelope, feeling as if everything is surreal and moving in slow motion. I stare at the man, dumbfounded, as the world around me comes to a standstill. I see everyone moving and talking, but I can’t hear a single damn word.

“Taniya,” my mother shouts, saying my name and snapping her fingers multiple times in front of my face pulling me back into reality.

“Ms. Aoki, did you hear anything I just said,” Jackson asks, a look of concern on his face. I shake my head slowly, tears welling in my eyes. He repeats what he just said slowly to me like I’m a small child, “Elias made you his medical proxy, which means that you have the power to make his healthcare decisions while he’s incapacitated. He’s estranged from his parents and doesn’t have many friends, so he felt like you were his best option. He fully trusts and respects any and all decisions you make for him. Lastly, you’re the owner of his estate in his most recent updated will, outlined in the documentation in the file.” Jackson gestures to the file, and I open the manilla envelope, pulling out a stack of papers. I flip through them carefully until my eyes land on a number that sends me into a tailspin, causing my eyes to bug out of my head.

“I’ve never seen so many zeros in my life,” I uncontrollably blurted out. My mom snatches the papers from my hand, dropping them on the floor as she gasps. I look around the room, feeling my heartache from the absence of the one person I’d never thought I’d want to see again after I got my interview.

But Elias’s missing presence makes it impossible for me to breathe.

Elias may have been the perfect match for Skye Lawrence, according to the MatchMate app.

But he was my perfect match in every other aspect of the phrase.

He was the best sex I’d ever had.

The one person who understood me without me ever having to mumble a word.

The missing piece I never knew I needed in my life.

Hell, he was a perfect match to donate a vital organ to me.

Elias was willing to risk it all to save me, his soul mate, his true perfect match, and had made it so that even if he didn’t pull through, he’d still ensure I’d be taken care of.

I owed that man my life; our love story couldn’t end here.

I had to find a way to make sure he pulled through.

He wasn’t going to die. He couldn’t. I damn sure wouldn’t let him.

But the million-dollar question was how?

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