Episode 19

...XAVIER AMERY...

After Chloe, I spent a couple of months on my own, waiting for a woman who could complete me, but none who approached were the right fit for me.

Chris was increasingly unbearable with others. He displayed the traits of an adult—the bitter kind; even visits to the psychologist had no effect, and I was at a loss as to what to do with him. If he had a mother, it might be better, but it's not as simple as picking one who turns out to be excellent for taking care of him.

My mother kept insisting on the same thing—I need a partner, a good woman who will accept me with a small son who is not easy. He's polite, but often speaks rudely to the women who approach me, causing me embarrassment.

(.....)

I met Bianca, a fashion designer with cinnamon skin. She's stunning, an entrepreneurial spirit from humble beginnings who made her name gradually in the industry.

I admired her courage and determination, a born fighter unafraid to stand up to more seasoned designers to protect her work, something I find commendable.

Bianca's self-assurance is striking because many designers lack the confidence to defend their creations when faced with criticism from more experienced individuals.

Often, the most knowledgeable critique as a test to gauge a designer's self-confidence, to understand their way of thinking and individual style.

Bianca impressed me; she's a few years younger than me, which perhaps dazzles me all the more.

She has a sensual body with dimensions larger than most of my past conquests but that's understandable since many of them were in the modeling world. I've meticulously observed every curve of hers through her clothing and yearned for her intensely.

I wonder about her preferences in intimacy—whether she likes it rough and wild, or slow and delicate. My insecurity lies in the sexual realm, and with good reason.

I desire to be with her intimately but have limited our interaction to friendship for now, until I'm certain of what she wants. Being younger, she carries more confidence than I do—astonishing. In my twenties, I wasn't like this; you'd think it would be the other way around, but somehow it's not.

(.....)

Bianca and I met in my office because I'd asked her for some sportswear sketches for a collaboration, which would help her grow, and I'd have new models to offer variety. I admit I made the request partly to see her alone.

"You look radiant today," I rose to greet her and kissed her hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Amery," she withdrew her hand slowly, her gaze as deep as the darkest coffee meeting mine.

"Call me Xavier. I know we'll do great things together," I pulled out a chair for her to be seated and took my place.

Her sketches were lovely, neat, and delicate. Each line conveyed a sense of freshness, and we could certainly work together without a hitch. Yet, those sketches paled compared to her beauty and sensuality.

She wasn't shy about flaunting her figure, her beautiful skin. Her curly black hair cascaded down her back, nearly reaching her firm-looking behind that made one want to squeeze it and see if it was indeed as taut as it seemed.

We sealed the deal and I asked her out to dinner to celebrate.

(......)

It was the sixth date between Bianca and me; we'd kissed a few times but never gone further. I felt confident that tonight would be the night.

After we finished dinner and dessert, I kissed her and asked with the utmost gentleness what I desired.

"Would you like to spend the night with me?" She nodded affirmatively and then kissed me back.

In the bedroom, we kissed, and I slowly removed her clothes, but she undressed me swiftly, catching me off guard. She gazed at my masculinity unabashedly and then gave me an exceedingly passionate kiss.

Before we could begin, she climbed on top of me and started moving wildly. I feared the condom would break.

Bianca was like a different person entirely, and when I took over, she didn’t express herself the same way. As I quickened the pace, she seemed to enjoy it but lacked affection outside of bed.

She wasn't into kisses or caresses, none of that. It felt like we didn't quite mesh, but perhaps with time, we would find a rhythm that satisfied us both.

(......)

Our relationship grew shorter, and yet, she became more appealing to me, I began to fall for her. But then, as if by magic, one day she decided to end our relationship—so spontaneously, honestly, and directly that I was left with no doubts.

"Xavier, you're a great man but not for me. I met someone who truly fits my tastes; forgive me, but from now on, our relationship can only be strictly professional."

"How should a man be for you?" I asked, immediately wanting to kick myself, but she simply replied:

"It's boring in bed with you, and you're boring in general. You have a difficult son who hates me, and I'm not interested in being a mother, not his, nor planning to have my own family"—I admired her even more for her ability to be so forthright with me.

That was my relationship with Bianca, another entry in my list of personal failures. Some people are solitary by nature, just like me. We aren't cut out for partnerships, and we get turned down in that arena—why continue attempting something unattainable?

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