Saint And Sinners (17 page)

And then, it hit him…

“Too late now, I know what you’ve been doin’, Dad.” He beamed as he turned on the
water full blast and gently closed the medicine cabinet, ensuring no one heard it
click back into place before he exited the bathroom. When he returned to the muggy
kitchen, everyone was sitting down gorging on enormous bowls of steaming soup, sticky
rice, crisp salads with sliced eggs on top, and plates of hot noodles with green onion
sauce and savory roasted chicken.

“Oh man, y’all started without me, huh?” Saint didn’t wait for an answer. He scooted
next to Xenia, his arm brushing against her shoulder as he reached for his food. He
dipped his spoon in a bowl, anticipating the savory delight he knew would soon flood
his mouth. Taking a hearty gulp, he savored the rich taste of the broth, relishing
how the hot, full-bodied flavors coated his tongue.

“This is so good, Kyung Mi.” He slurped another spoonful into his mouth, and yet another.

“Thank you, Saint.” She smiled brightly, taking tiny sips from her own spoon while
sitting with her back straight as a pencil and perfect poise.

“I’m sure you were in there throwing away my dental floss and deodorant,” his father
said, a bit of anger in his tone as he picked up the dead horse and cast the heavy
thing across the room to be prepared for supper.

I know this mofo ain’t salty, bringing this shit up again…

“Nah, wasn’t anything to throw away.” Saint grinned into his soup bowl, seeing his
warped reflection in the broth before taking another spoonful. “Everything you have
in there I
want
you to have. Matter of fact…you need
more
…” A lump formed in Saint’s throat as his soup competed with his need to laugh. Either
way, one of them was coming out. Swallow or chuckle… He conceded and decided to swallow.

Osaze remained quiet, ignoring his son. Then, like a lightning bolt had flown from
a Greek God’s archery grip and crash landed into the small room, the truth of Saint’s
words must’ve hit him hard, straight in the gut now half filled with his wife’s tasty
delicacies. The man’s expression changed while he viewed him from the corner of his
eye, and all one hundred and thirty five shades of red in existence took over the
older man’s face within a snap of a finger. Saint even detected a slight sheen of
perspiration…or maybe that was due to the kitchen growing increasingly hotter from
all the cooking.

“Yeah…you got anything else to say, pops?” Saint glugged his soup down as if he had
no manners whatsoever. He tipped the bowl higher in the air, making sure to catch
every morsel that remained in the bowl, causing Xenia to shoot him a look of confusion
as she continued to eat. He noticed she still had some leftovers and debated on begging
her for the rest of bounty.

“No. Not at this time.” Osaze kept his voice low, almost timid, barely making its
existence known like a bird hopping across the floor wearing cotton ball house shoes.
It was more than apparent he didn’t want to rock the love boat that Saint had set
out to sail. Saint couldn’t let it go though; this was too juicy of a development
to simply allow to waste away, growing stale and moldy as the moments passed. So,
to preserve the modesty of the dear Kyung Mi, he sent a telepathic message to his
old man, his tone in bold, vibrant print.

“Yeah, I saw your stash, Pop. Niiiiiice.”
Saint clicked his tongue, swayed a bit in his seat as if he were going to break out
in a dance.
“You should keep that in your bedroom.”

“You should mind your own business.”

“I have a tip for your sex life, if you’re willing to finally hear it.”

“I don’t want to hear anything that you could possibly offer me!”

“…I’ll tell ya anyway. Why don’t you ask her to use the vibrator in front of you?
And…why don’t you use the vibrator on her while you make love to her sometimes? That’s
all I’m saying.”

The man grew suddenly quiet. His telepathic thoughts drew cold as he shot a serious
look at Kyung Mi who wasn’t paying either of them any attention. Saint grinned so
much on the inside that he felt his face almost split. The old man was
definitely
interested.

“Yeah…I knew that would get you going.”
Saint gripped his glass of water and gulped half of it down before reaching for his
salad and putting in noisy work. He chewed the lettuce a bit, then continued with
his tirade.
“She is more liberated than you, less inhibited about broaching such a topic. She’s
not squeamish regarding these matters.”

“And how the hell do you know so much about my wife?”

“Because she told me she read a couple of my books and enjoyed them the last time
I called to speak to you…that’s how.”

His father swallowed hard, as if a toad were caught in his very throat.

“Look, Dad, in all seriousness, I’m not trying to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m
actually trying to help you. I know I’m your son. I know that you created me, not
the other way around, and that you are old school. You come from a culture and age
where children, adult or not, didn’t discuss such private matters with their parents.
But…we are different, Dad. Our relationship is far from conservative, whether you
like it or not.”
Saint took another bite of his salad.
“This is beyond sex, this is about marital fulfillment. You know you’ve wanted to
see her do it. She keeps it in the medicine cabinet because she wants you to see it
every other morning when you shave, damn it. It’s not there ‘just because’, it’s there
as an invitation.”

His father delicately placed his spoon down and looked at his noodles, as if they,
too, were speaking to him telepathically. He moved about in his seat, but remained
quiet.

“How many hints does she have to drop?! Women don’t leave stuff like that in there,
especially a woman like Kyung Mi. She is daring you to be a participant. Stop pretending
to be a gentleman with her; she knows who you really are in that regard. Let her see
it. She wants full access to you, in every way, including sexually. Don’t be afraid
to ask her this…tell her you want to sit back and watch her play with herself…just
tell her. That’s what she wants!”

“Shut…up! That’s enough of this raunchy talk, Saint. You’ve gone entirely too far.
This conversation is over! I don’t want to hear another word!”
The man fisted his hand on the table, a stern look on his face, but Saint knew it
was all an act. His father burned with desire for the woman, a bit grateful for the
revelation. Sure, he was out of sorts, even a tad angry, but his engine was revved
at the news. Oh, the magical possibilities were now endless…

“Save the song and dance, Pop. We both know that when Xenia and I leave here, you
are going to ask her to do exactly what I just said. You won’t be able to contain
yourself. I know where I got my perversions now…it’s in my blood line.”
He winked at his father, causing the man to abruptly turn away.
“Now, pass me the pepper.”

“Get your own pepper! You seem to be so good at reaching for things that don’t belong
to you, surely this aspiration for a seasoning should be no challenge whatsoever.”

Saint burst out laughing, startling everyone as he leaned to the side, almost falling
out of his chair. Even Osaze began to laugh. Then just as suddenly, two men grew quiet,
trying to pull themselves together and daring one another to take a glance into each
other’s eyes. They’d gone and done it now, fell down at the feet of temptation and
lived to regret it, for their bellies swelled with mirth, and their chuckling started
up all over again, causing Xenia to shake her head and Kyung Mi to give a slight,
confused grin at their antics.

“I’m glad I’m here, Pop. I love you, man.” Saint placed his fork down, leaned over
and kissed his father on the cheek. That urge came over him, a compulsion, something
he simply had to do. He was so delighted for his father, seeing newness about the
man, revived life. This proved a welcome turn of events that helped them grow even
closer.

The entire table grew silent now as Saint picked his utensil back up and started to
eat again. He couldn’t wait until he got to the noodles, while hoping Kyung Mi had
made enough where he could have a second helping. He tried to close his eyes to the
stares around him, but he was simply too observant for that. He didn’t want anyone
to make a big deal about it, but he understood their shocked reaction. His father
touched where Saint’s lips had landed and glared at his son, his eyes glossy with
something Saint didn’t want to witness anymore.

Oh come on, man, don’t go getting emotional on me…

Xenia reached under the table, took his free hand that he ran nervously over his pants
and squeezed it affectionately. He could see her grinning at him, though he refused
to look the woman in the face. He hadn’t kissed his father in a long time—and this
time, it wasn’t forced. It wasn’t because he was desperate, fearing he may never see
the man again. No, this time, he did it simply because he felt like it…because that
was his father, and Saint finally had a seat, was welcomed with open arms at the man’s
table…

*

S
ex therapist Aubrey
Jericho was an L.A. radio waves sensation. The quirky woman stood an even five’ two,
her short cropped dark hair reminiscent of Demi Moore from the movie, Ghost. Wearing
a snow white, fitted power suit that hugged her rounded breasts, unusually large for
her petite frame, she definitely had a commanding presence about her.

The woman took a seat, her thin shoulder brushing lightly against Saint’s. He grinned
suspiciously as he leaned back a bit, trying to subtly widen the gap between their
bodies, maintain some semblance of personal space while her fingers moved dials back
and forth in an almost obscene fashion. He was accustomed to radio shows, those with
and without a slew of producers, but it had been a lengthy time since his last radio
interview so he second guessed himself. Perhaps the time lapse accounted for the reason
he felt a little out of sorts.

This time, he had been invited to the show for his discipline, his schooling, his
first career, his vocational love—sex therapy. Everyone who studied interracial dating,
the constitution of marriage and all that entailed, had either heard of Dr. Saint
Aknaten or knew of some of his teachings. He was a household name, particularly a
bedroom name, in the interracial community. Swirlers around the globe had purchased
his books and videos, it was simply the way that it was. It proved rather refreshing
to finally receive an invitation to speak on sex therapy and education, his original
claim to fame.

“Saint, is it okay if I call you Saint?” A flash of something appeared in her iridescent
cerulean eyes. Her thin yet well-shaped lips turned up at the ends in a rascally smile,
as if she were in on some joke that had been hidden from the rest of the world.

“Yes, that’s fine, Ms. Jericho.” He looked at her, his expression blank, trying to
figure out the woman’s angle and what she was up to. He didn’t want to read into the
matter, make much ado about nothing. Aubrey had done nothing but brush her shoulder
against his…could have simply been an accident. But then there was her smile…he
knew
that smile. The one tossed his way in years past when a woman begged him to plow
her back out, to fuck the shit out of her so she’d have lewd stories to tell for years
on end. Yes…that smile haunted him as he’d seen it on so many different damn faces
from his former life as a happy whore. He’d forgotten names, claims and how many trains
he’d singlehandedly handled as the conductor giving the caboose all that he could,
blowing his whistle, steam and load. His wild nights, crazy mornings and insane afternoons
had been filled with the shit that porno stars relish and dick-addicted women crave.
He had astounding stamina to screw many women at once in a hotel room oftentimes chock
full of pussy and one cock—
his
… taught and trained for the battle of orgy combat. He shot and never missed, sending
women into orgasmic chaos they’d never known before or after him. When they walked
out of his room, it was s l o w l y… Oh, it felt good to be King…