#TheMysteryHealer #ShortStoryChallenge @ #SylLit. Read now…

shortstorychallengeThe Mystery Healer came from a story I wanted to write a long time ago, but really kept putting it off and decided to just put a little down on paper.

I’m happy to note this is under 5k words. I’m really getting better at this.

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The Mystery Healer

“I know we haven’t spoken in in a while. I promise I won’t cancel this time, just please answer,” the text from the strange number said.

When he looked up the area code, Roman noticed it was from a 313 area code. With a quick internet search, he found this was Detroit. He didn’t know anyone who would be personally texting him from Detroit.

For a moment he worried he would have to get another number. He’d just gotten this number.

“Are you listening to me?” Patricia snarled.

Roman put his phone face down and looked at his soon to be ex-fiancée’. She would be his third in his lifetime, but Roman found he was not very worried about losing Patricia.

A supermodel on the rise, exquisite African American Beauty that he met in Europe on a business trip two years ago. He thought they were meant for each other, but he had thought this two other times also.

“I’m tired of being treated like a business transaction, Roman,” she complained. “I’m tired of being your last minute entertainment.”

“How do you know this?”

“I saw your Google calendar. You have nothing scheduled for me. Nothing. You’ve even scheduled when you brush your teeth, Roman!”

“So you are breaking up with me because I didn’t schedule a date?”

“Face it Roman, You’re only interested in the appeal of having a woman not being with a woman.”

“I’m not gay,” he refuted, which was what his 2nd ex-fiancé’ has accused him.

“I’m not saying that,” Patricia said disappointedly. “But you’re not in lust with me.”

Disgustedly, he questioned, “What does lust have to do with anything a relationship. If two people are compatible -”

She cut him off. “I know, something is bound to happen, but I need more. Not just a successful man, or a good husband. I need a lover, and that is something you have no idea how to be.”

Roman shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I’ve pleased you sexually unless you were faking.”

“No, I didn’t fake. You know how to make love to a woman’s body, Roman, but that doesn’t make you a great lover. A great lover knows how to love a woman’s mind and soul.”

“Dammit Patricia is this about that stupid Karma Sutra class you forced me into taking?”

She rolled her eyes. “No, Roman, this is about you never opening your mind to anything except what you think should be done in life. You’ve never really tried anything new. You only came to that class with me to shut me up. You didn’t even try the practices. You don’t try anything new on your own. You’ve never even had a one-night stand. That’s a problem with a guy.”

Angrily, he asked, “How?!”

She looked uncomfortable. “I knew this would upset you.” Gathering her mink wrap, she said forlornly, “I thought I’d ring in the New Year with being honest with you.” She took off her three-carat ring and placed it on his desk. “You’ll most likely just spend it here in your office where you always are. We can still be friends, Roman. Just nothing else.”

He didn’t watch her walk out. The moment he took his eyes off of her, he was back to thinking about work glad he still had the rest of the night to finish up setting up the websites for his clients. He barely heard her leave out of his office. When he picked up his cell phone to check the time, he realized it was going on three in the morning.

The last message from the stranger was still on the when he unlocked his phone.

The first message had come late last night and said, “I’ve thought about it AGAIN, and I’m open to the arrangement. Jax.”

Now this second message came suddenly one day before the end of the year. Roman deleted the message just like he deleted the prior too busy to tell this “Jax” wrong number.

Three hours later, another 313 text beeped his phone. “I’ve taken medicine, the EVERYTHING, and nothing works. You said you would help. I know I refused before, but I promise I won’t refuse now. I will do whatever you want me to do. Whatever it takes. Please. I just want to sleep. I’m at the end of my rope before I commit suicide.”

Now he was curious. His mother committed suicide when Roman was sixteen. He found the body when he’d come home from school. She left a message on the white board in the kitchen on the refrigerator. “Sorry Roman. I didn’t have time to make lunch.” When he went into her bedroom, she was lying in bed, foaming at the mouth, three open bottles of pills on the bedside.

His father had died a week prior, and he knew his mother was just depressed from loneliness. Every day he worried what happened to her would happen to him, but he never voiced those opinions. He just figured finding a partner in life would stop him like it stopped his mother. Someone who was strong, healthy and compatible.

Opening a reply message, he started to type: You are texting the wrong person.

The clear screen gave him pause.

He was always doing things the way he thought things were meant to be. What if just one time he didn’t do things the right way? What if he decided to make a drastic change in how he usually did things?

Instead, he typed, “What details of the arrangement are you willing to agree to?”

Immediately there was a return reply. “Obedience to all your terms. I’ve done all you required including the doctor’s records.”

His curiosity was never peaked, but this was becoming very interesting. He wanted to find out more information without looking like he didn’t know what was going on. Creatively he worded the next message. “Can you Dropbox the terms and conditions you have?”

Thirty minutes later while he was in the shower, a link came to his phone. He almost killed himself out of the shower to see what who texted to him.

The link sent him to a very official twenty-page arrangement for a subordinate-dominate relationship.

Touch Therapy?

What she was suggesting was more like a let him feel her up, and she wouldn’t complain.

He texted her: Do you understand what you are asking for completely?

She texted: Yes. I can make the arrangements. Just one session and if it works then we can

The text didn’t finish. What happened?

What the hell had he gotten himself involved? He looked back at the document and decided to research exactly who were these people on the documents.


“Ms. Barrymore, your nine o’clock is here,” the assistant said interrupting her abruptly.

“You’re fired! I said no one interrupts me!” she snarled dropping her phone as she stood from behind her desk.

The assistant looked like she was about to pass out.

“Get out!”

When she was alone again, Jaxlene Barrymore picked up her phone to re-read her last message.

She sounded like a ninny.

She copied the messaged, paste in a new text box and finished off what she was saying: “Just one session and if it works then we can renegotiate.”

There was no reply immediately, and she gathered her files and went to the conference room to take care of she had her nine o’clock. Most likely, her new client was some sorry sap that had made bad decisions. No wonder she didn’t sleep, but she was one of the best bankruptcy lawyers in Michigan.

Maybe it was her grim outlook on life.

Maybe it was her constantly meeting people who never made good decisions.

Maybe it was the fact that she had so much to think about and nothing made the voices just stop.

She wasn’t sure, but she was losing her hair, not sleeping and thinking of ending everything with a bullet to the brain.

When she said, she tried everything she had tried everything! Nothing had worked, and now she was at a point where even bad advice sounded good.

Five years ago, her sister had given her a “specialist.”

“He’s a touch therapist with questionable methods,” Rebecca had recommended. “Just text him first and you’ll see. I did and he worked wonders in me, Jax. I wouldn’t lie about something like this. You know that.”

Jealousy Jax watched her sister leave the past and live in the moment. Rebecca was happy, but she hadn’t gotten treated like Jax. Rebecca was the youngest. A lot of times Jax shielded her from the abuse growing up. Taking the brunt of the punishments from their stepfather, no one could understand Jax’s troubles especially a man.

Then last week when Rebecca sent the wedding invitation with the Christmas card, Jax wanted to die.

After everything, they had gone through? Could Rebecca just get married?

What had this man done for her sister?

Thirty minutes!

The reply came in thirty minutes.

Rudely, Jax grabbed her phone and left the room right while the customer was talking.

The reply: Send arrangement details and appointed time.

Her heart raced. She knew the specifications like the back of her hand and yes, they were out of the box, but look what it had done for Rebecca?

She wasn’t going to hesitate this time. The dreary end of the year, the happiness of her sister and the fact that she was going on 33 years of age and still single.

“Are you going to come back in with the client?” Wade Harris questioned.

She cut him a look almost ready to tear him down but knowing he was partner in the firm, she couldn’t. Smiling tightly, she said, “Yes, family emergency.”

He looked concerned. “Your sister?”

“Oh, yes,” she easily lied. “She’s getting married.”

Wade looked a little put-off. Jax wanted to bite her tongue. She was a horrible liar! How could she forget Wade had tried desperately to date Rebecca in the past?

Walking past him, she said, “Oh and I need a new assistant. The last one didn’t work out. Thanks, Wade.”

She finished her meeting and went back to her office. Looking at her calendar, she flinched at the thought of knowing once she returned from the New Year’s break she would be extremely busy.

What better way to ring in the New Year? Heal!

The immediate reply: You know that’s New Year’s Eve?

Jax frowned glad the response wasn’t an outright, no, which she had expected. She texted: I understand. I’ll triple your price. I felt with the New Year coming I needed to make a drastic change.

After a long moment, the reply came: Your arrangements are confirmed. I will see you at the appointed time.

She almost slunk out of her chair in anticipation.

There was so much to do before the appointed time, but the first thing first was to get to the bank and withdraw the money. In the contract only cash was accepted. She didn’t mind the large  fee. If the therapy did to her what it had done to Rebecca, any fee would be worth that amount.


The smell of the peppermint and lavender oil was starting to get to her. Not an annoying way. Sweet, slightly flowery, but very nice. Relaxing.

Jax had taken great pains to prepare the front suite the way the contract stated. Twelve candles lit around the room, a soft rug in a specific size on the floor, warmed exotic oils ready for use and herself, only dressed in a full length from shoulder to ankle white robe.

She knew this was going to be a hard night for her; confessions, inhibitions, and morals would all have to let go. If she were going to heal, she would have to give everything of herself and not think twice about it. If this night didn’t work, she didn’t want to walk away from tonight saying it was because of herself.

Taking deep breaths, she nervously waited with her eyes closed just like instructed.

The door opened, and she knew she had stopped breathing.

The footsteps approaching her were heavy but stopped before coming on the rug

“What should I call you?” she asked

“Don’t the instructions say wait to speak?” he said in a very demanding tone. His voice was strong and commanding.

Following commandments was not in Jax’s personality, especially from a man. She had to remind herself this was the final straw and concede to his wishes.

Nodding, she lowered her head and waited.

“Why are you here?” he questioned.

“To be heal,” she answered.

“From what?”

“The past… the pain.”

“Where does it hurt?”

She touched her head and heart. “Here.”

The room was silent again. “What happened?”

The last time Jax had spoken about what happened was to the police when she finally was brave enough to turn her stepfather to the police. “I was abused by my stepfather.”

“I know that. How?”

Her throat felt so dry suddenly, but she was determined to give her all. “He tortured me as punishment. Any little punishment by… by pinching me.”

There was a moment of silence. She could barely hear him breathing.

“Where?” he questioned.

“First my arms, and then my sides and thighs and then…” She touched her chest and tears came as the memories flooded in.

“What happened to him?”

“I told. I told everyone who would listen, and the police put my stepfather in jail. He died there.”

He didn’t speak, but she heard him moving fabric. Was he removing his clothes?

“Are you ready?” he questioned.

He was right in front of her. She hadn’t heard him move in front of her.

“Yes,” she said.

His voice sounded very high above her.

Hold your arms out,” he commanded. “Open your legs as wide as possible and sit as straight as possible.

He moved closer. She could feel the heat of his body on the inside of her legs, but he didn’t touch her.

He leaned close and said, “I want you to think about the pain.”

His methods were very unorthodox!

Strong hands began to rub her arms in sync.

“Think very hard about every place he touched and how much it hurt,” he ordered.

She did as his hands now rubbed on her sides, her back, her stomach, her thighs, and legs. He didn’t ask her to remove her robe, so she was very comforted.

Thinking deeply about her stepfather’s touch, tears welled in her eyes from the nail-biting pinches that seared her skin and left marks for days.

Soon it was becoming harder and harder to think about her stepfather’s touch because the strong increase pressure of the therapist’s hands was replacing what pain she used to feel.

His hands seemed everywhere, and it was becoming so hard to be still for what he was doing to her.

“Why are you crying?” he asked softly.

Jax didn’t know she was crying! She hadn’t cried in a very long time.

Barely able to catch her breath, she said, “I don’t know.”

“Do you wish to continue?” he questioned.

“Yes! Please,” she begged.

Her voice sounded so foreign even to her. Never in her life had she ever begged from anything from a man before. Now if she stopped whatever he was doing to her, she felt she would never be able to live another moment knowing what he had planned for her.

His hand came up to her neck, while the other moved to undo her robe. He didn’t move the robe away after undoing the ribbon that held it closed. He merely placed that hand on her chest over her heart and then firmly dragged his palm down between her breasts to her stomach. The robe opened slightly from this movement but didn’t open all the way.

“Lay on your back,” he ordered.

She didn’t hesitate and obeyed him.

More fabric movement and then she heard the top of the oil removed. The therapist moved down to her feet and began a slow massage on every inch of her body.

“You fear men?”

“I don’t fear anything,” she said bravely.

He chuckled. “Liar. You are a horrible liar. You told on him and thought that was it? You thought you could never be hurt again, but you only shielded yourself, didn’t you?”

How did he know? How could he have surmised her pain from just meeting her?

“You shielded yourself from the world, and you won’t let anyone near you. Not even yourself, right?”

She sobbed as he manipulated his strong fingers into her thighs like some magician pulling all the pain and sorrow from her body, just with his touch.

She didn’t stop herself from crying as he moved over her womanhood to her sides and stomach and then… with a firm grip, he massaged her breasts.

Jax released everything and trembled from the sob.

“Let it go,” he ordered continuing to massage her breasts.

Her soul felt touched, and the heavy burden holding her down lifted.

His hands moved to her shoulders and then her arms. He even massaged each finger. Her body was putty in his hands.

He moved up to her neck and then his hands in sync moved through her scalp as he whispered, “Live in the now. Experience the now.”

His commands were so easy to follow with her soul open to him and Jax like a new woman inside and out.

“Open your eyes,” he ordered.

Almost afraid to break the connection, she slowly opened.

He was over her body only in tan briefs.

She gasped not believe what her eyes beheld.

“You’re white,” she said.

“Italian mixed, if it matters,” he said proudly. “But I didn’t give you permission to speak.”

He was a dark Italian mix of handsomeness. Jax hadn’t expected him to be so visually pleasing. Rebecca was always quick to point out if a man was cute or gorgeous, but Jax never remembered her sister saying anything about how this therapist looked.

His commanding tone went well with the chiseled face, thick neck, broad shoulders and well-muscled body. She thought he would be younger, but this man had to be the mid to late 30s.

“Watch my hands,” he ordered.

His fingers were well groomed and strong visually. She watched one come from her neck down her over her shoulder to her chest and then her breast. She gasped terrified remembering what her stepfather did.

Quickly she looked away.

His movements stopped. “This doesn’t work if you don’t watch,” he reprimanded her.

She shook her head. I can’t.

His fingers moved in sync around her large dark aureoles slowly and then he gathered her breasts again only flicking her nipples with his fingers. She tensed and then started to relax as he massaged her breasts again.

Cautiously she looked, biting her lip. He stopped his massage and moved his hand back up to her shoulders. This time she followed all the way until he was massaging her breasts again.

“How does that feel?” he inquired

“Good,” she admitted surprised.

“Pain isn’t bad,” he said.

She tensed as his hands increased the hold on her breasts.

“Don’t be scared,” he ordered.

“I’m not.”

He chuckled again. “Liar.”

He moved away and sat Indian style in front of her. “Stand in front of me.”

She stood and started to close her robe.

“Stop! Don’t close your robe.”

She moved in front of him as ordered.

“Watch me,” he commanded.

She saw him take the oil and started at her feet. Again massaging up her firm calves over her knees to her thighs. His hands moved all the way between her legs but always stopped short of touching any private parts.

Forgetting about the past, Jax focused her attention on the present with this handsome man with hands that made her feel light as air.

He took her hands and pulled her forward. “Straddle my waist,” he ordered.

She didn’t hesitate in following his command as she moved down to sit in his lap, wrapping her thighs around his waist. He guided her arms over his shoulders and buried his face in her neck. His hands massaged her posterior thoroughly and then her entire back.

Jax was fully relaxed.

“Take deep breaths through your nose and breathe out your mouth,” he ordered just as he was massaging her shoulders and arms again.

“Deeper,” he instructed. “All the way until your lungs fill up and let out a breath slowly; All the way.”

Lost in a deep tranquil state, she was vaguely aware his hands had moved to her breasts again. His face moved from her neck to dip down and…

Jax felt her innards quiver. Something she had never felt before in her life. His mouth had grasped one nipple fully, and his tongue was slashing her skin repeatedly. His teeth grazed over, tensing her up, but she wasn’t scared because his tongue assuaged her fear as he started his oral manipulation over again.

The tremors below her stomach started to grow and spread in a pleasurable wildfire.

He switched his mouth to her other breasts.

Dear Lawd!


She held on tightly trying to breathe like he said, but becoming erratic, until…

The wildfire of bliss turned into a flash burn through her veins.

Jax shook so hard one final time; she thought her spine would break.

She cried again; freely, happily, holding on to his neck tightly.

His face has returned to her neck, and he held her closely until she relaxed again.

Never in her life had she lost so much control, but having him close to her, whispering reassurances everything was fine and continue to breath was just a perfect way to come down from her first orgasm.

Who would have thought one could orgasm with only nipple stimulation? Had he done it on purpose? Was that part of the therapy? Associating pleasure with pain?

His instruction to take deep breaths continued and he could feel him taking the breaths with her. She concentrated on his breathing techniques, and soon she became one with him.

The fluttering in her stomach returned, and she could feel a culmination begin.

He moved from her neck to look down into her eyes.

He was speaking through a visually gaze, encouraging her increasing their breaths, bringing her closer to…

Jax couldn’t think about what was happening to her.

The feeling was just too much for logical thought.

She knew she was shaking and was glad his arms held her so closely. He was with her; she could feel his strong aura surround her. His body trembled in unison as their spirits merged to a place in time she never knew existed until now.

As they descended, she sobbed hard. He held her even closer until she completely passed out from exhaustion.

“Are you okay?” he asked concerned.

It was an odd question to ask coming from a professional therapist. He should know if she was okay since he probably did this for a million women.

She was thirsty as hell, but she was better than okay. “Umm hum,” she mumbled dreamily.

Jax was feeling perfect beyond belief!


“I can’t believe you’re here!” Rebecca screeched in happiness hugging Jax for the twentieth time.

Jax smiled pleasantly. “I said I would come. I’ve always supported you.”

“But when it comes to matters of the heart, you’ve been so negative, Jax.”

Not wanting to constantly being reminded of how she had been in the past, Jax said, “It’s your birthday and your engagement celebratory dinner. I had to come, now let’s do what we always do and talk about other people in the crowd.”

Rebecca laughed. “You are  different, Jax. What happened?”

“I’ll tell you later. I promise. Oh no,” Jax said noticing who just entered. “Did you invite him?”

Following Jax’s stare in horror, Rebecca grumbled. “Unfortunately, Jeremy let me know that stalking weasel was coming. Wade Harris can eat shit and die.”

“I’m sorry, Rebecca, this is all my fault. I let him know about your engagement, but I swear I didn’t tell him about this dinner and I certainly didn’t invite him.”

Rebecca shook her head. “Wade’s cousin is Jeremy’s tax lawyer. Jeremy wouldn’t be the success he was today if it hadn’t been for him, so he gave him a plus one thinking he’d invite his supermodel girlfriend. Unfortunately, they broke up right before the New Year, and he invited Wade instead not knowing about my past with the weasel.”

“Did you let Jeremy know how obsesses that man was about you?”

“Not the creepy stuff, Jax. I didn’t know he’d show up here.” She gasped. “Oh look, it’s my therapist! You know the one I tried to refer you too.”

Jax braced herself because after she has passed out in exhaustion, she awoke to an empty room. She was laying on the couch, and all the candles had even been blown out. The only reason she was sure she hadn’t dreamed everything was because the large envelope of money by the door was gone.

That incident had been a week ago, and the therapist hadn’t answered one return phone call or text from her since.

Yesterday had been the first day she had NOT tried to contact him.

And now this?

Rebecca pointed to a slender black man about five and a half feet in height. “Leonard! Over here.”

Jax blinked several times. “I thought you were calling over the therapist.”

“I am. That’s Leonard, my therapist, the one I’ve been trying to get you to see because he’s done miracles for me.”

“That’s not the therapist you referred me to.” She started to become angry thinking her sister was playing some dirty joke.

Seriously, Rebecca said, “Jax, this is Leonard, my therapist!”

The room started to spin. The man standing in front of her was not the therapist she had let her soul loose.

Stumbling back, she needed to get out of there before she passed out.

The therapist that had come to her was tall, six feet at least and he was white… no, he had said, Italian mixed.

Who the hell had done those things to her?

Who the hell had healed her?

The Mystery Healer (c) 2017 Sylvia Hubbard. All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or copied in any form or by any means without written permission by the author.

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One thought on “#TheMysteryHealer #ShortStoryChallenge @ #SylLit. Read now…

  1. Pingback: Exclusive Books & Stories only found @ The Literary World of @SylviaHubbard1 #syllit | The Literary World of Sylvia Hubbard

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