Chapter 8: Mr. Sensitive

“Can you make dinner tonight, something healthy?”

My lips curled a smile as I enthusiastically agreed to serve Jon at my home and make him very comfortable. He had been to my house the previous night, but tonight was going to be something special…I think…..well he asked for a “no holds barred” night. So it must mean something special. All I knew is that my maternal, domestic, traditional, and Haitian feminine instincts had not only kicked in, but gone into overdrive, as I hastily picked up around the house…..Sweeping, re-arranging furniture, setting the table, lighting, finding the remote control, and nearly killing three people as I plowed my vehicle to the supermarket.  I had been subsisting on nuts, grains, and cereal for the past month and nothing of real substance to feed a man in my kitchen EXCEPT WINE.

In less than 45 minutes I had prepared a unique (but hopefully not too “foreign” or “exotic”) meal of stir fry spinach with diced almonds and dried cranberries, Asian-style tofu mix drizzled in soy sauce, steamed quinoa in chicken broth (to give flavor to his American palette), and a glass of my infamous White Sangria. I showered and wore an outfit that Jon specifically said he liked the night before.  And just in the nick of time, I barely had time to tie the sash around my waist, before he obnoxiously stamped through the doors and slammed it shut behind him.

“Honey, I’m HOME!!” he boomed.

I came downstairs to greet him and right away noticed that he made his way into the living room without taking off his shoes on our hardwood floors.

At the table, it would be an overstatement to say that he feasted. Though a very slim build, he ate all the spinach picking around the nuts and fruit, some of the vegetables and not the tofu. And barely breathed on the quinoa. Good home cooked food that is consumed regularly at my home is now being sent back to the fridge.  Typical spoiled White American.

I looked away and refused to watch him “eat”.

“Sabrien, play with my dick while I eat!”

I was a little surprised, confused, and disadvantaged as I was sitting on his right side, and had to use my left hand to reach in and search for his soft fleshy member. With all my “supplies” upstairs I could only hope that the lotion I put on my hands earlier could still provide a good slip.  Not to mention, I couldn’t get it all the way out of his pants, maybe it was the awkwardness of sitting next to him and trying to feel my way around under the tablecloth.

And as they say in France, ONE THING LED TO ANOTHER, and I found myself pinned in a damning awkward position over the table and Mr. Jon on top. He took his sweet time to reach in for his travel bag and pull out the plastic bag of condoms I gave him. He threw it on the table. Making sure that I saw it, signaling what was to happen next.

Not what I had in mind! I never told Jon this, but I had fantasized about our first time: hoping for the weekend, when he would come and stay over the night and while he showered I would prepare the room by dimming the lights and lighting my favorite scented candles, spraying the sheets in the perfume that he liked, and me patiently waiting…not wearing much in bed for him to come in and find a delightful surprise.

Yeh, I can be romantic…and I wanted to show him that 😦

However, in my bottom position all I could think about was the searing pain that the edge on the table made pressing across my pubic symphysis as Jon pounded his small 130 pound frame against me. Who knew someone so small could do so much damage? My feet could barely touch the floor; add in the pins and needles sensation in my right leg and the fact that it had been a year since I had the pleasure of… being in the company of a fine gentleman.


How Expressive

I stood stretching out my lower limbs and regaining feeling.  As we walked across the living room, I grabbed his hand and guided him upstairs.

Now let’s do this my way

Hoping to salvage any romance or intimacy that this night was supposed to bring, we continued to make out, in a very comedic and awkward way;–Jon is a sloppy kisser – as they call them—with a roaming tongue and hands. All I kept thinking about was him swallowing my jewelry (since I still couldn’t find that other earring) and was unprepared for what would happen next!

“Get the condoms!” he said as he prepared for another round of hardcore penetration.

I grabbed the bag, dumped it and I asked, “Lifestyle or Durex? Which one do you wear?”

“Just get me a condom, QUICK.” He said as he concentrated on his hand.

I pulled out three choices and handed it to him.

“NO, I’m not hard yet.” He snapped.

I thought you wanted it now??

“Ok…I—uh thought”… I’ll just wait…..

“Ok now!  Give it to me quick.”

I quickly passed the condoms to him and he slapped my hand down. “You gotta open it, first…why are you so dumb?!”

I began to open one and take it out of the wrapping. This whole scenario took less than a minute to occur but already he said,

“Hurry, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Perplexed, I watched him slap on the rubber, and eased myself to a more comfortable position on my back. There was no music or candlelight as I wanted but the pace of sexual intercourse was timed by our natural rhythm …that was as off-key as a whino singing along to the Sunday school choir, while taking a piss behind the cathedral structure. His body dominated me as the thrusting of his appendage kept the tempo. You could hear it:





Knowing what I know now, I didn’t have enough sense not to roll my eyes downward, and keep them locked on him. At the time, I naively thought such a small natural occurrence due to the amount lubrication and twisting of our pelvis…shit might have just slipped out! It’s not like we ladies can put a seat belt on the thing every time we lift our pelvis or shift our legs!

“Why are you so tense?!” He demanded

Oh I am? Ok relax….and just–

Stay open –open….

Stay open-open….

Keep open-open…


Was that too open? Everything that I knew about human anatomy seemed to be….not applying in this situation!

I instinctively reached down….to help, but was met with another fly-swat…

“You’re too tense!”

Now I’m tense. I could see the hair falling over his face, as he pushed it back. Determined, he grabbed both of my thighs and sealed his pelvis to my vulva as he pounded away.  The next few minutes, all I can recall is lying on my back, to just my shoulder blades, to…now this is getting dangerous, to being flipped on my side and Jon spooning behind me, then on my back again.

And it goes again:






Falling back onto the bed, I sat up and looked at my watch…..oh. I looked at him, he was the youngest guy I had been with, and though I was surprised by his limberness, I was still perplexed that we had only been in the room less than 15 minutes.

Still a bit shell-shocked, I desperately tried to bring the flaccid member back up again.

“No, no, no don’t play with my dick,” He panted or may have; I was too busy trying to save the night.

“No, I’m too sensitive….here come and cuddle with me” he beckoned with open arms.

Cuddle??  “Why?” I asked, cocking my head and raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to go to sleep?” I was sincere in my inquiry as I had only known the act of cuddling to happen right before lovebirds fall asleep in their embrace. And since I had never fallen asleep in anyone’s embrace, nor witnessed it in my own home, it was a foreign concept to me. As foreign as making a milkshake or Star Wars.

“Just come here….”

I crawled over and awkwardly (this is the word of the day, folks!) found a spot to lay my head. By now, I was uncomfortable and restless.  We were both naked and lying on top of the covers so I was getting chilly, I still wanted to go another round and get some time on TOP, so it could be my turn….and….

“So we’re going again right?” I asked without blinking and very straightforward

“Yeh…I’m just sensitive.” He panted…

“Are you in pain or something?” I genuinely inquired, as my hand reached for his forbidden zone.

“No don’t….I just need a minute.”

I rolled over and grabbed my robe to exit the room and throw out the used condom in the bathroom.  My mind wandered again to the food on the table and the dishes I would have to wash….which then brought me to a question that I had been meaning to ask him.

“Hey, remember when you told me your mom had to have a C-section because she’s a little person?”

I could distinctly remember him rolling his eye sideways at me and giving me a deep half-squinted stare. “Yeh”

“Just to clarify were you using the colloquial term to refer to a genetic condition also known as Dwarfism or is she simply shorter than the average person?”

I should have been more sensitive.


Chapter 9: A Super Man

I was trying to be respectable and show her how much she can trust me and I can please her.  We had already talked about waiting, but I felt like the reason she didn’t want to have sex with me was because she thought I couldn’t please her. So I asked, “Sabrien, tonight can I have you…In any way that I want?”

© 2012 -2013 S. C Rhyne

Longer Preview to Chapter 8: Mr. Sensitive

So by popular demand on facebook and email, I posted this longer preview. I will also drop Chapter 8: Mr. Sensitive a little bit earlier this time. Since last week’s posting  had some scheduling issues. Enjoy!!!

At the table, it would be overstatement to say that he feasted. Though a very slim build, he ate all the spinach picking around the nuts and fruit, some of the vegetables and not the tofu. And barely breathed on the quinoa. Good home cooked food that is a staple at my home was now being sent back to the fridge.  Typical spoiled White American.

I looked away and refused to watch him “eat.”

“Sabrien, play with my dick while I eat”

© 2012 -2013 S. C Rhyne

Chapter 7: Speak American

“I forgawt my ūm-brella in da cawr”

“Your what?” He asked

“My umbrella” I repeated.

“Heh he heh…” He chuckled as he looked down

“What?!”  I demanded

“You say ‘um-brella’ weird…it’s like you weren’t born here sweetie!”  He crooned as he grabbed my chin as we made our way down the street into his apartment.

“Say it again…um-brella”

“That’s what I said…um-brella”

“No! Its not what you’re saying, um-brella, say it!”

“Um-brella!” I mimicked. “Are you happy, Jon?”

“That’s better” he smirked “Gotta speak American, boobigoops”

I am American, a Noo Yawker to be precise; born and raised in the Big Apple to immigrant parents, where English is the main language spoken in our home.  I attended private school until my formative years, where I then attended one of the top performing public high schools and number 1 non-specialized school in the city.

Despite the fact, that I had scored within the 98thpercentile in language arts in the numerous specialized tests that were given to me, including the only one to have a perfect score in the statewide ELA exam at my middle school and statewide Spanish language Regents exam at my high school; despite my enrollment in honor English, History, and Spanish classes (which all required essay writings and speeches) in high school. I apparently have a language problem….that wasn’t pointed out until now

Or another way to view this would be that Jon has a culture problem.  The only time I can recall he mentioned my race, was maybe a few days after we first met when we were discussing our online profiles, and he pointed out that mine was so incomplete, he didn’t even know I was Black. Not that it was a problem for him.

However, what is a problem for him is my…..exotic and acquired taste for cultural activities where as his seemed very mainstream and deep. For example – Star Wars and Star Trek – a classic and generation time honored film blah blah blah….I don’t know the different between the two, except one is a movie and the other is TV show  (I found this out recently).

After high school, I avoided television, until Superbowl XLVI, when I bought my first, 32-inch HD flatscreen as an upgrade from my 13 inch RCA bubble that was manufactured when—well…one of the last TVs manufactured in the United States.

This would be a constant nagging from Jon…“I can’t believe I’m with someone that doesn’t know what Star Wars is….”

Yet, despite my persistence, he has yet to watch it with me. But I was more than happy to share my interests with him, such as a classic K-Horror film Tale of the Two Sisters and my eclectic music collection.

He is a master of video games: the last game I played was on a Playstation 2.

He talked Sci-Fi, I read the Sci. He wasn’t like your typical man’s man. He didn’t watch any sports in fact he opted to take yoga in high school. Something told me we can forget about taking that trip to Shea stadium.

I’d sometimes fantasize about his WASPy mainstream upbringing….like the kind you watch on Full House or maybe even Leave it to Beaver. For crying out loud the guy would have hot dogs for dinner!? You only see that shit on TV where I come from….no responsible Caribbean parent would let that happen in their home.  And the luxuries like Cable/Satellite TV, espresso machine, and dishwashers; I had not been exposed to until I was barely old enough to start paying for them.  And even then I still have trouble operating these gadgets.

“Can I have a taste of your milkshake?” I asked over our hasty lunch downtown. It was an incredibly rare occurrence that we were in the same area during lunch time so we met up for quick bite.

“Sure” as he passed the cup to me.

“Ugghhh…I think they left this sitting on the oven too long! Its tastes like melted ice cream”

“What?! What are you talking about…it’s a milkshake” astonished, he looked up at me his light green eyes.

“Honey, it tastes like someone scooped up vanilla ice cream and set this in the microwave” I explained.

“Well of course there’s ice cream in it…don’t you know what’s in a milkshake?”

“No, do you?” I asked.

“Well I don’t believe this, never had a milkshake before! Never made one?!” He demanded, “Where were you born? How can you be American and not know these things”

“You still haven’t told me what’s in a milkshake…” I pointed out

“It doesn’t matter; it’s not my job to culture you! You were born in America…you should know what these things are. It’s a milkshake!” he replied, shaking his head…

“Well, we like to have lots of smoothies at home.” I mumbled between bites.

“Yeah….you make those?”

“Well of course, some milk, banana, choice of nuts, oatmeal…” I explained.

He looked at me and shook his head, not necessarily condescending but I couldn’t figure out if he was amused and trying to push my buttons again or really upset?

“Ya, honey bunny!” I exclaimed with a smile.

He looks at me….**SMOOCH*** on the cheeks

And he kisses back on my lips, I ended the kiss after a few shorts moments to return to my food.

Yep…he’s as mainstream as a milk—

“Why do you always do that?? You turn your head from me every time I go to kiss you! You don’t like kissing!”

He looked straight at me


“You don’t like kissing me!”

Chapter 8: Mr. Sensitive

His body dominated me as the thrusting of his appendage kept the tempo. You could hear it:





I didn’t have enough sense not to roll my eyes downward, and keep them locked on him.

© 2012 -2013 S. C Rhyne

Happy ThanksGiving!!!!

This is an ironic coincidence but this week’s post Chapter 7: Speak American is falling on this holiday when we reflect back on our history and how we came to be. Thus, I hope you spend this holiday weekend with your loved ones; warm and safe as we reflect back on all that we are thankful for.

TheGirl is thankful for loving family and friends, my unique life experiences that make me…me, and for all of my readers that share into my life and for your continued support and loyalty!
So please share back what you are thankful for!

Chapter 7: Speak American will drop tonight, a bit early!

Chapter 6: I Have STD

Why can’t you just say it?!?!

It’s really hard. You see it on television all the time, when one or both partners are holding out, they practice in the mirror, maybe with a friend…take a deep breath and spill…or just forever hold your breath.

I guess Jon and I weren’t as open and honest with each other as we liked to be.  It’s kind of embarrassing when you think about STD; never had it before, I don’t know about Jon…he did boast of his “experience” with his past girlfriends, but I on the other hand had never been in a relationship that kept me emotionally and physically  tied to a person.

I never told anyone that I loved him. I never bothered to cuddle after sex or spend the night. I never understood or put effort into romance…not that I’m against any of these above mentioned things. I just didn’t care at the time. My traveling and exploring the world to live is usually more important. Living for the moment, not being committed now…because it didn’t make sense!

I only do things that make sense. I am analytical, practical, and a cold observationist; never wanted to be emotionally biased when looking at a situation and trying to find the best solution. True for the academic field: very very wrong for intimate partnerships. I am very hard to read, I’m stoic and when someone says something controversial, I don’t show anything. I never thought that was a problem, and people have said that before, but they never said it was a problem.

“Jon, I like being with you”

“Why are you so into me? You know I’m not that special”

??? I need to give you a reason? Because I lov…



Is he insecure? Needs a reason? Or am I just crazy? I tell you that I like you, have deep feelings for you (exact words here), falling head over heels for you; you want me to write a dissertation on this? Well how do you feel about me, Jon?

So I run it through my head, and I practice…I’m gonna tell him today in person, at lunch, not over the phone…in a letter? But wait….Maybe Jon had it too.

If he really liked me, he would have told me about his STD. We should have talked about it first, but these things are always hard to bring up.  You know better, but looking your partner in the eye and saying, “Sweetheart….” is really difficult.

And he always seems to cut me off, when I get to the part about my —-“Why don’t you go and date a Caribbean guy then?” he shrieks.

After our first night together, I went to work the next morning and left my cell phone off by accident.  I had opened up like he asked me too, however the exposure of my literal and figurative insides had me desperately trying to close up again. So I left my cell phone off so it couldn’t ring or beep and stuffed it into the bottom of 5lb Coach purse and ignored it. Pretending not to care whether or not my phone rang, I continued about my day.

He texted and called and I didn’t realize it until the near end of the day.  When I called him back in a cool (sorry, I mean COLD), calm, and rational voice I politely and professionally apologized for missing his call, like I say with all my clients, and explained that my cell phone was off during my back to back presentations and meetings.

Hey…he knows what I do for a living.

However, I didn’t understand that probably didn’t take away the feeling he had when the call went to voicemail. No amount of rationality can make that feeling go away.


It dries your throat making it difficult to swallow let alone speak.  Your stomach is bloated with a heavy sinking feeling and you can’t eat or it hurts to eat. You’re tired and weak, your brain fogs….you just don’t know how to say what to a person and it absolutely frustrates you!

Self-explanatory Typical Dysfunction

I don’t have to transmit to you, what I deem self-explanatory.

I tell you that I like you, I call you to talk, I text you at random times to see how you are, I picked up the tab for brunch…I gave you what you asked. It’s practical, can’t you see that I lov—really care about you? Yeh, I don’t really initiate all the kisses or…oh you want to cuddle, why?

That night at his apartment…

“So have you been meeting any new people?” I so casually ask…..



“Why not?” I so curiously ask…

“Its hard for me to go up to women and start a conversation…”

“Its hard for me too! (No not really) I don’t want meet new people let’s just see each other”


I really like you and want to see only you….I don’t care to meet other guys…I can only think about you

“You and I have hard times meeting people, and we like each other. Two people that like each other should get together. Its practical, Jon”

There! A rational reason that’s universally agreeable….emotional bias gives a reason to object.

“But you wanted an open relationship…why should we…you don’t even like kissing me!!”

“I do like being with you, you know I’ve only dated Caribbean men, and they’re not as affectionate or…” as I explained some cultural nuances.

And like a seventeen year-old he continued to rant and rave, “Sure, I’ll call…just remember to put your phone on!”  And “Come on, just get in the bed…”

Until he finally said this– which I left with, “Why don’t you go and date a Caribbean guy then?”

Unappreciative Bastard.  This is the thanks after all I’ve done and put into this…whatever this is? Sigh…

Its STD when you feel something on the inside, but you can’t express your true feelings because you don’t know how or are just unable.

In your mind you have the script planned out but the jerk ruins it by saying some off-the-wall shit and now everything is lost in translation.

Jon had it and I had it. I like to blame him for it, but truth is….I may have had it long before him.

So I have STD, and it may ruin our relationship….maybe there’s hope for us yet.

Ch 7. Speak American


“Its not my job to culture you! You were born in America…you should know what these things are. It’s a milkshake!” Shaking his head…”I can’t believe I’m with someone who doesn’t know what Star Wars is.”


“Ya! I can’t believe I’m with such a nerd”

My favorite picture of Jon and I.

© 2012 -2013 S. C Rhyne

Longer preview to Chapter 6: I Have STD


I guess Jon and I weren’t as open and honest with each other as we liked to be. It’s kind of embarrassing when you think about STD. Never had it before, I don’t know about Jon…he did boast of his “experience” with his past girlfriends, but I on the other hand had never been in a relationship that kept me emotionally and physically tied to a person.

© 2012 -2013 S. C Rhyne

Chapter 5. DANGER: Steep Curve

This is our first obstacle that Jon and I ran into; and the results of that were….well, you can judge for yourself.

That night on the phone, our banter was reflective and light-hearty…we talked about the days before and the cool things we did in the city. I asked about his Sunday…I told him what I did and bragged a bit about taking time off from work. Jon always complained about his job, and how stressful it was as well as how much work he had to do. Always meeting deadlines and being the first one to release “news.” He’d even have to spend his weekends writing.

Sabrien –“ Ya! So let’s meet on Wednesday, I’ll get out at 3pm”

Jon – “Yeh? Why so early?…”

Sabrien – “Cause…I’m cool like that…..”

Jon– “OK….”

You never see the sharp turn coming, and I didn’t anticipate what Jon would ask, as I’m not even sure how the conversation led around the bend.

Jon – “…well, am I the type of guy that you would have sex with?”

Sabrien  – “What? What do you mean?”  Looking back, I heard him mumbling but he probably thought I was screaming from the other line. “You mean your body type? Your personality?”

Jon – “Well yeh, whatever you would feel that would make us want to be intimate?”

Sabrien – “Well your personality then…Yeh I like you, but are you asking me to have sex with you? Like since last week?”

Jon – “Well, you came over….and we had fun but then you just left….I mean I’ve been good, don’t I deserve something?”

So what!! I left, get the hell over it….is this what this is? You want me for my body? Is that it? Because this is what I’m hearing! I laughed it off…

Sabrien – “Jon, all the other girls you dated, how soon would you become physically intimate with them?”

Jon – “Well, by the second date.”

I couldn’t control my outburst.

Sabrien – “Ha ha ha, if all those other girls were that easy then you can to jump on that bandwagon and that’s fine, but not me….You don’t even know what turns me on…I need time.  Is all you want is sex from me?!

Jon – “No! Its not just about sex…”

So how did Jon feel? Upset, put down, rejected, INSECURE?

Writing this snippet of conversation, it really caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to say and may have unintentionally hurt him. Maybe signaling to him that he is unattractive or not masculine enough?  I was nervous and couldn’t give him a direct and better answer.

Jon—“ok, I’m gonna go now….mumbling…I’ll talk to you another night”

I was sick when I hung up.  I sobbed in bed until I fell asleep. And him…maybe he kicked a chair, inhaled some and fell asleep?

Text message:

Jon I still wanna meet on Wednesday, after work.


Stop being a punk and answer me!

Yes, we’ll meet Wednesday.

Tuesday was silent.  Wednesday was silent.  With the exception of the phone conversation playing in my head over and over like a subwoofer implanted between my ears.  I planned in my head what I would say.

Stay pissed. Who the hell does he think he is? How dare he get offended because I won’t open up to him!! How dare he demand so much from me!

At the station he mindlessly wandered pass me, and called out to him. We stood across from each other.

Sabrien – “Hi” stand your ground woman!

Jon – “Hey, come here” as he wrapped me in a hug….

Sabrien – “So what are you looking for?”

We talked from the train to his apartment. And at his apartment on the roof

Sabrien – “No, I haven’t been in a relationship with someone in several years.  I’ve hung out and met with guys, but it’s never been anything emotional or deep” I added, “The meetings we had were great…”

Jon – “Wait. Meetings? Is that it, why do you keep calling it that? They weren’t dates…”

Sabrien– “Uh?”

Jon– “You never opened up in the past?”

Sabrien– “No didn’t have too…” I shrugged my shoulders.

Jon – “Won’t you try? To open”

Sabrien – “Which one? Emotionally or Physically?”

Jon – “Both”

Sabrien – “I guess” This was not an enthusiastic:  I guess, why not!

I didn’t realize on that ride home how…cold I may have sounded to Jon.  I haven’t bothered to pursue a relationship with any of the past men I dated. Even though it made perfect sense at the time to me; I was an exchange student, constantly moving around, too busy, or simply not interested.

He on the other hand, had three past girlfriends and didn’t mention seeing anyone else outside those relationships. Maybe he really fell hard. I fell hard too, but desperately held on to my rope of stoicness.

I got an idea!

Sabrien – “Why don’t we be open for now? I mean you and I can see other people…I dunno I don’t have anyone lined up now…”

Then maybe he doesn’t have to demand so much from me, he can get it somewhere else…and I can do my thing

Jon – “Honestly that’ll be awesome!…”

Sabrien – “Jon, you know that means I’m going to date other guys and if I develop something with them…”

We hugged. And he kissed me on the cheek.

Jon – “As long as you don’t tell me about them.”

Next Week: Ch 6. I Have S.T.D

Maybe Jon had it too. We should have talked about it first, but these things are always hard to bring up.  You know better, but looking your partner in the eye and saying, “Sweetheart….” is really difficult.

Working through the steep curve

© 2012 -2013 S. C Rhyne