Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97951 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Suddenly, a screen appeared on her laptop, and the hard-hitting sounds of Eric B. & Rakim’s, ‘I Ain’t No Joke’ began to play. The bass was heavy. Someone important was entering the chat… The screen was black with the exception of a spinning gold king crown with diamonds. Below it read the initials.
S.A.
The crown slowly faded away, and there sat a man who practically glowed. He looked like he was created from AI, but no, he was quite real. His midnight-black hair was coiffed in an old-fashioned pompadour that suited him perfectly, and a thin streak of bright silver was threaded through the side of his shiny tresses. He had on dark tinted glasses, but his eyes were still partially shown beneath them. A sparse, well-trimmed black beard covered his angular and strong jawline. The bridge of his nose was long and thin, and his nostrils had a natural flare. He exuded masculinity and beauty simultaneously. His vitality was absolutely BDE, and she couldn’t help but stare. He sat behind at a huge black desk that seemed to almost span the length of the room, his body nestled in a black and red oversized royal chair with gold accents that looked fit for a motherfucking king.
Behind him was a view of the New York City skyline. It was real, not some poster or painting—absolutely stunning, all aglow with sparkling lights. The good doctor was wearing a black jacket over a white dress shirt. Simple, yet well made. The shirt was partially unbuttoned, exposing a bit of dark chest hair, accented with a thin gold chain and a Nefertiti pendant. He raised his large hand and waved, exposing two diamond rings on his long, tan fingers. In his other hand he gripped a fat white cigar.
Good God almighty. How is a man of his age looking like this?! Looks even better in person than on the author biography of his books. I know his wife is thrilled! Blessed and highly favored!
She blinked several times, trying to regain her focus, and Dr. Saint Aknaten laughed, as if he’d read her mind. Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. For some reason, it felt like he’d invaded her thoughts right then and there—as if he had some secret way to delve deep into her subconscious and peruse it like a library. He removed his glasses and set them aside.
“Hello, Dr. Aknaten, I’m Nadia. Thank you for—”
“Pause. Your mic isn’t on, baby,” came a smooth, deep, rich voice coated in a pronounced New York vernacular and swag. “Turn up your lights, too. I want to see you better, Queen…”
“Oh!” She quickly adjusted the video lighting and turned herself off mute. “Sorry about that.”
“Not a problem, love. Now, what was it you were trying to say?”
“I am first… hold on. Let me back up. Let me say,” her heart was beating a mile a minute, “I am honored that you accepted my request for a therapy session, Dr. Aknaten. I hope I said your name right.”
“You did.” He picked up a remote and turned the music down low.
“Okay, good. I, uh, I saw that you are booked for several months out, so I appreciate you readin’ my email and doing this for me on such short notice. I know your time is valuable.”
“My time is quite valuable, but so is yours. I’m not any less or more important than you. Did it surprise you when I wrote you back?” He flashed a bright white smile.
“It did, actually! I had mentioned to you that I first heard about you from my boyfriend a long time ago. I coincidentally purchased some of your books, and checked out info about your seminars on your website. Oh, and speaking of Lennox, I take it that you received my follow up email about him giving consent to discuss him?”
“Yes, thank you. The patient/therapist confidentiality agreement is important because it’s built on trust. Since you two are a couple, I have a little leeway here anyway, but getting his consent was still necessary if I were to be speaking in more than just general terms. Based on your email, that will definitely be occurring. Queen, let me look at you for a minute. Scoot a bit closer to the webcam and look straight into it.”
Look at me for a minute? What for? She did as requested though, regardless of her trepidation and confusion.
He rested his cigar in the crack of a dark brown ashtray that appeared to be shaped like an ass. She had to suppress a laugh when she saw it, managing to maintain her composure. He leaned forward and clasped his hands, staring at her with such intensity, it was like she was being examined from the inside out. She felt warm all over, as if he was looking directly into her very soul. He stayed that way for so long, not speaking, that she thought his camera may have frozen, or the Zoom connection was faulty. After a short while that felt like an eternity, he exhaled and leaned back in his chair.