Sex in the Sanctuary (30 page)

“I believe you,” Tai said simply. She grabbed King’s hand and led him to the sofa. She sat down quietly, and he followed her lead. They were facing each other, holding hands. “You know I love you, King. And I know it will take time for the wounds to heal. We’ll take one day at a time.”

King glanced at the bed. “I’m hoping we can start with one night at a time.”

Tai smiled. “I hope so, too. I’ve prayed, and while I know it will not always be easy, I still believe it is possible for us to have a good marriage. We’ve had one before. I know I’m partly to blame here. It’s not all your fault. It’s mostly your fault,” she added hastily.

“Ah, here we go,” King said dramatically, lightening the mood. He wisely changed subjects. “Remember that time when Michael was about three years old? He decided to play soldier with Princess. It had been raining and you went out in the backyard to find her covered with mud and leaves, and he said it was camel-flog?” Both he and Tai laughed softly at the memory.

“Yes, and I wanted to beat his butt because he was as dirty as she was.”

“But instead you started rolling on the ground with them, and when I got home, all three of you were looking like little mud children. You were so cute to me that day.”

“Yeah, we all jumped in the shower together, singing at the top of our lungs.” Tai’s face glowed at the memory. “We stayed in there until the water got cold. When we got through that bathroom was a mess!”

“Yeah, but we didn’t care. You went in the kitchen and made hot chocolate, and we pulled out potato chips and cookies and Skittles and all kinda junk food and had a picnic on the living room floor. The kids were in heaven!” King pulled Tai up and walked toward the bed. “I want to lie down.” He wanted to join Lionel and show Tai she was a lady; once, twice, three times.

Tai followed him quietly, still lost in the memories of happier days. The covers had already been pulled down and Godiva chocolates placed on their pillows. King got in first and then pulled Tai down and close to him.

Tai laughed softly and continued the story. “We all fell asleep, right on the living room floor. The next morning you were so mad because Princess had somehow lost her diaper during the night and peed on you!” She snuggled closer to King; his scent was intoxicating.

“Humph. I still think you had something to do with that!”

“No, I didn’t!” Tai said, laughing freely now.

“Yeah, that’s what you said. I still think it was a conspiracy.” He pulled her closer, rubbing his lips against hers, gently, lovingly, without demands.

Tai closed her eyes, focusing on the moment. King kissed her eyelids, her nose, her mouth. He hugged her to him and rubbed her back.

“We’ve had some good times, huh,” he whispered against her ear. King began a slow, languorous journey from Tai’s ears which he’d traced with his tongue, across her neck, slowly
down the valley of her breasts where he rested his head. She hugged him to her, each kiss seeming to relax her a little bit more. He continued, paying homage to first one dark nipple and, after giving it his thorough and undivided attention, moving to the other, pulling, teasing, sucking. He kissed a path to Tai’s lips again and kissed her deeply. He worshipped her body with his mouth, adoring her beauty, celebrating her ability to love him still, esteeming her power to forgive. He took his time with her, rubbing and massaging and cuddling and consoling. He kissed her from the freckles on her nose to the soles of her feet. Marvin Gaye had the right idea. It was time for some sexual healing.

Tai moaned in frustration as King rolled over to remove his pants. She shrugged out of the blouse King had unbuttoned on his quest to relive the pleasure of Tai. As he rolled back over, she placed her arms around his neck, looking deeply into the eyes and the soul of the man she’d loved since she was fifteen years old. He rocked her softly, his dick hard between her legs. Thick and throbbing, he lifted himself as Tai opened to receive him. He pleasured the love of his life with deep, steady strokes.

“I love you, King,” Tai whispered fervently as King led the way on their dance of love. Slowly, deeply, he possessed her as if he never wanted to let her go.

“I love you, Tai. I love you, baby.” King’s mind was filled with love for his wife, and there was no one else he’d rather have in his arms.

He smiled as the music lulled them both to sleep.
You’re right, Sugarfoot,
he thought.
Heaven must be like this.

Enjoy the following excerpts from Lutishia Lovely’s latest novels

A PREACHER’S PASSION

and

LOVE LIKE HALLELUJAH

Available now wherever books are sold!

Is That You?

People say Passion was fast from the womb. That when she heard men talking, she’d make a motion in her mother’s belly that felt like a tickle. When she heard women, her mother got gas. Even before Passion was born, she decided that men were to be loved; women, tolerated.

She had one real girlfriend growing up, Robin Cook. They got along like two peas in a pod from the moment they met at Martin Luther King Jr. Elementary School in Atlanta, Georgia. For one, they were big tomboys, bigger than most girls their age. For another, they both hated their female classmates and constantly baked up evil schemes to right some imagined wrong done to them. Whether it was putting cayenne pepper in a girl’s food, glue on her seat, or beating somebody up at recess, they were always getting into trouble, and usually together. But Passion and her family moved from Georgia to California when she was fifteen years old. She hadn’t seen Robin since.

Passion sat in her living room, flipping through an
Essence
magazine and watching the MLM channel, a new, progres
sive, Black-owned network that was finally giving BET some competition. A minister, Derrick Montgomery, was speaking at a convention hosted by a group called Total Truth. Passion decided he looked as good on TV as he did in person.
That man is fine forever,
she thought, as she turned up the volume.

Passion wasn’t a member of Montgomery’s church, Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center, but the church she belonged to, Logos Word Interdenominational, fellowshipped with KCCC often. Passion loved Pastor Montgomery’s fiery style, not to mention the way his body blessed a designer suit. She could always expect a good word plus some men worth watching when she visited Kingdom Citizens, and was one of many who’d visualized Pastor Montgomery sans suit or wife. Either him or Darius Crenshaw, KCCC’s hot minister of music whose latest hit, “Possible,” had spent months at the top of both gospel and secular charts. Pastor Montgomery was fine, but Darius could sing, play several instruments,
and
looked like “thank you, Jesus.” Add the fact that he was single, and as far as she knew, available, and he was the obvious choice.

For all her salacious wonderings, Passion couldn’t see herself actually sleeping with Pastor Derrick or anybody else’s husband. She admired Pastor Montgomery’s wife, Vivian, who was good friends with her first lady, Carla Lee. Even after news broke that Pastor Montgomery had an older son from a previous relationship, a son he supposedly knew nothing about until two years ago, his and Vivian’s marriage remained strong. Word had it that the boy was even living with them now and playing basketball at UCLA. No, Passion would never act out inappropriately with Pastor Derrick. Well, other than the lusting in her heart for which she was already guilty. She’d probably not send love notes or nude pics to Darius Crenshaw either. But he was definitely daydream material.

An hour after the television program went off, Passion pulled into her favorite strip mall. It housed an inexpensive clothing
shop, video store, nail salon, Chinese food restaurant, and the reason for her trip, Gold’s Pawn Shop. Passion loved this store. Pawning had kept her lights, gas, or phone on many times right after her divorce, when she’d been struggling to raise her newborn daughter. She’d pawn gold, diamonds, anything she could to make it to payday. She prided herself on the fact that she always bought back her stuff and in the process would sometimes find a couple bargains, enough to where she continued to make regular visits even after her finances improved.

She stepped inside the store. As she’d expected for the middle of the day, it was quiet. Lin, the Korean owner, was behind the counter, helping his one, lone customer.

“Hey, Lin,” Passion said cheerfully.

“Hey, Passion,” Lin said. “What you buy today? I got tennis bracelet you like—just came yesterday.”

“How much you want for it?” Passion asked. “I might be interested if you give me a good deal.”

“I give you very good deal,” Lin said. He unlocked the showcase and pulled out a bracelet set with tiny diamonds, effectively shown off in a black, faux-velvet case.

“This is nice,” Passion said. She put it on her arm, turned it this way and that.

The other shopper, a woman, looked at the bracelet as well.

“It’s pretty, huh?” Passion said to her, being friendly. “You think it’s worth two hundred dollars?” That’s the deal Lin said he’d give to Passion, because “she good customer.”

The woman didn’t answer, just stared. Passion looked up and stared back. The face was familiar. Then it dawned on her.

“Robin? Robin Cook? Girl, is that you?”

Robin was shocked, her response subdued. “Passion Perkins?”

Both women were incredulous. It had been twenty years.

“What on earth are you doing in LA?” Passion exclaimed, stepping forward to grab her former best friend in a bear
hug. As she did so, she felt something cold, hard, pressing against her stomach. She pulled back, looked down. “And why are you buying a gun?”

Robin looked at Passion, then down at the gun, almost as if she didn’t know how it had gotten in her hand.

“I, well, uh, girl, it’s good to see you!” Robin placed the gun on the counter and hugged Passion with fervor. This had been her best friend back in the day. She was genuinely glad to see her again, but still couldn’t have a sistah all up in her business.

Passion didn’t miss the fact that her question had been diverted. But this was Robin, her homegirl from the ATL!

“Oh my God, Robin, I swear I thought about you just today. Listen, we’ve got to grab something to eat and catch up; you got time?”

“Of course.” Time was all Robin had had for the past eighteen months.

Both the gun and the tennis bracelet stayed at Gold’s Pawn Shop as Passion and Robin headed for the Chinese food restaurant three doors down. They quickly ordered, paid for their food, and sat down.

“Passion Perkins, or is it something else now?”

“No, it’s Perkins again. I’ve been divorced almost five years, got a little girl. What about you; are you married, divorced, kids? Are you living here or just visiting? Girl, I still can’t believe I’m looking at you!”

“Me neither,” Robin said, taking a large bite of her egg roll. “Um, this food is good.”

“Good and greasy,” Passion countered around a forkful of chicken fried rice. “Just the way I like it.”

Passion and Robin were silent a moment, devouring their tasty dishes, and then Passion probed again. “So, Robin, tell me wuzzup?”

Robin smiled as Passion mimicked the voice of their teens. She felt she could maybe share a few things with an old friend.

“Well, for starters, I’m divorced, no kids.” Robin filled Passion in on her ten years in Tampa, Florida, after leaving Atlanta, her turbulent marriage and its equally turbulent end, the split-second decision to stay in Los Angeles after visiting almost two years ago, and her current employment.

“You’ve been here two years?”

“Off and on.” Robin didn’t want to tell Passion or anyone else where she’d actually resided during most of her LA stay—in prison for identity theft and credit card fraud. “I took some time off to, uh, visit family…came back a couple months ago.”

“Wow, girl, you must be rolling to be able to take off work like that.” Even as Passion said this, her thoughts returned to the gun left lying on the pawn shop counter.

“Hardly,” Robin replied. “But sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.”

Like shoot somebody?
“So, where are you staying?” Passion asked.

“Downtown,” was Robin’s short reply.

Passion studied the face of her former running buddy. Twenty years was a long time; maybe she shouldn’t expect the two girls-turned-women to be as close as they once were. Still, Passion didn’t understand the guardedness she sensed in Robin’s demeanor—eking out conversation as if words cost money.

After an awkward silence, Passion reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone. “I stay over in Leimert Park. Let’s hang out one day soon. What’s your number?”

They exchanged phone numbers and then Passion rose to leave. “You coming?” she asked Robin.

“Uh, in a minute, girl,” Robin said, looking up at the menu, prominently displayed along the restaurant’s back wall. “I think I’m going to get me something to go.”

Passion leaned over and hugged Robin. “Well, it was good seeing you, Robin. Take care, and let’s talk soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

Robin waited until Passion walked out the door, and then placed a take-out order. There was just one other purchase she needed to make before leaving the area.

Passion wasn’t sure why, but she didn’t leave the strip mall when she got in her car. Instead, she sat watching the door to the Chinese restaurant. A couple minutes later, Robin came out of the restaurant, looked around briefly, and headed back to the pawn shop. She looked around again before going inside.

Passion waited until she saw Lin unlock the gun case and hand something to Robin. “I knew she was going back to buy that gun,” Passion said to herself as she started the car and left the parking lot. “What is going on with you, Robin Cook? What is
really
going on?”

Remember to Forget

Cy moved with calm precision, feeling perfectly at home among Victoria’s Secret’s wispy feminine apparel. Not the most traditional gift to give his soon-to-be wife, but Cy couldn’t think of anything he’d rather see her in than a silky negligee, except her bare skin. He knew her body would show off to perfection the diamond necklace he’d just purchased at Tiffany’s, and he wanted a delicious piece of lingerie to complement the eight-carat teardrop. He couldn’t help but smile as he fingered the delicate fabrics of silk, satin, and lace, unmindful of the not-so-covert glances female shoppers slid his way. It hardly mattered. His fiancée, Hope Serenity Jones, had captured Cy’s attention from the moment she’d appeared at the back entrance of Mount Zion Progressive Baptist Church, a piece of sanctified eye candy wrapped in a shimmering gold designer suit.

Female admirers ogled Cy as he continued his deliberate perusal. He stopped at a hanging negligee, red and pink flowers against a satiny white background. The top had thin spaghetti straps that held up a transparent gown hitting midthigh. The
thong had an intricately designed rose vine for the string, a trail he would happily follow once it was on Hope, first with his fingers, then with his tongue….

A perky, twenty-something salesclerk came over with a knowing smile. “Are roses your favorite flower?” she asked, flirting.

“They could become my favorite,” Cy countered easily, “if worn on the right person.”

“That’s a very popular design,” the salesperson offered, encouraging the purchase.

“I’ll take it,” Cy said, as he casually handed the lingerie to her.

“Will this be all?” she asked, unconsciously moving closer to the live Adonis who had walked into the store and (blessings abound!) into her area.

“No, but I’ll keep shopping on my own,” Cy murmured as he eyed something on the other side of the store. The salesperson followed without thought. “I’ll let you know if I need any help,” he said with emphasis.

“No problem, I’m here if you need me.” The salesclerk turned around, a look of regret barely concealed behind her cheery smile. Cy was oblivious to the wistful stares his six-foot-two frame elicited from the saleswoman and other shoppers. His naturally curly jet black hair may have been hidden under a Lakers cap, but his raw sexuality was in plain sight. He had no idea that his sparkling white smile lit up the room like the noonday sun or that the dimple that flashed at the side of his grin was like a finger beckoning women closer.

Cy picked up a bra and panty set that had Hope’s name written all over it. It was a soft, lacy, yellow number. The panty was designed like a pair of shorts—very short shorts—and Cy reacted physically as he thought of Hope’s bubble booty filling them out. He quickly added this set to the black and beige more traditional sets he’d selected earlier.

While making his way to the perfume counter, another
outfit caught his eye—the perfect backdrop for the diamond pendant. It was a lavender-colored sheer nightgown with matching floor-length jacket. The beauty was in its simplicity, and he smiled again as he thought of how Hope would look wearing this purple paradise. He held it up and closed his eyes, mentally picturing her ebony splendor wrapped luxuriously inside the soft material rubbing against her silken skin as he kissed her sweet lips.

Cy felt the presence of someone behind him. Figuring it was the attentive saleswoman, he turned to apologize for taking so long to make his decisions, and for the growing pile of lingerie she’d collected on his behalf. The smile died on his lips, however, as did the clever banter he’d thought to deliver as he completed the turn and stared into the eyes of the person he’d most like to remember to forget…Millicent Sims.

Or so he thought, initially. The woman could have been Millicent’s twin sister; that’s how much alike they looked. But after the initial shock subsided, Cy realized it wasn’t her. The eyes were similar, but this woman’s nose and lips were larger. Her face was a bit fuller, the cheekbones less prominent. One thing was definitely the same though; the woman looked at him as if he were a chicken nugget and she the dipping sauce. He quickly excused himself and went around her, making a beeline for the cash register. A close encounter of the Millicent kind had cooled his shopping frenzy.

Moments later, he closed the rear door of his newly purchased BMW SUV. It had been hard to get him out of his Azure, but looking back it hadn’t made sense for a Bentley to be his main driving vehicle. As the salesman had promised, Cy found the BMW to be a perfect ride for jetting around the city. He fired up the engine, hit the CD button, and zoomed out of the parking lot. The sounds of Luther Vandross’s greatest hits, redone to perfection in snazzy jazz styles as a tribute to his memory, oozed out of the stereo. Cy bobbed his head
as Mindi Abair got ridiculous with her alto sax version of “Stop to Love.” As he crossed lanes and merged onto the 405 Interstate, his thoughts drifted back to Millicent. His heart had nearly stopped when he thought he saw her; it had been a while since she’d crossed his mind. He wondered how she was doing, where she was. Even after “the incident,” he wished her well.

The incident. It had been a while since he’d thought about that, too. But seeing Millicent’s near twin in Victoria’s Secret had brought the memories back with a vengeance. That crazy Sunday when out of the blue, and in the middle of a regular church service, Millicent had wafted down the aisle in full wedding regalia. It had shocked everyone in the sanctuary, him most of all.

Cy had had months to replay those events in his mind, and they’d mellowed with time. Now, he thought about the Millicent Sims he knew before she’d lost her mind that Sunday morning. He remembered the way he felt when he first saw her, tall and regal with beautiful hair, flawless skin, legs forever, and a smile that made his heart skip a beat. He’d quickly asked her out, knowing those fine looks would test the limits of his celibacy vow. But it hadn’t taken him long to realize that aside from good looks and Kingdom Citizens’ Christian Center, they had little in common. He also quickly felt Millicent’s desire to take their relationship to another level, one of the physical kind. Though sorely tempted, he did the right thing and broke it off with her after a couple months. Now, however, he wondered what it would have been like to have those long legs wrapped around him, his dick tapping that flawless skin. His manhood jumped in response to these thoughts, the smaller head seconding the bigger head’s thoughts.

As Cy exited the 90 Freeway into Marina Del Rey, Millicent’s words from that fateful day of their last encounter drifted
through the melodies of Rick Braun’s rendition of “Dance With My Father.” He could hear them as loudly as if they were actually being spoken:
Come! It is our time….
Cy’s dick went limp.

A horn honked. The red light he’d reached had turned green. Cy floored the gas pedal as if trying to outrun the memories of Millicent from that Sunday and his wandering sexual thoughts just now. He thought of Hope, physically different from Millicent yet beautiful both inside and out. His dick jumped again. He massaged it mindlessly, even as he once again tried to divert his thoughts and calm “Mr. Man” down.
Man, sleeping next to my baby is gonna be hard tonight!

As Cy turned into his garage, he smiled. A yellow MG sat parked in the stall next to his. Hope. What an appropriate name she’d been given, because hope was exactly what she’d given him. Hope that he could have the love he’d always envisioned, that he’d seen his parents experience. Hope that he could find someone both spiritual and sexy, who could love God like an angel and love him like a courtesan. He now had no doubt that that was exactly what he had in the chocolate pudding waiting upstairs for him. They’d agreed to remain celibate until their wedding took place, but that hadn’t prevented them from getting to know each other. He hadn’t played the piano, but he’d definitely stroked the keys.

Cy turned the key and activated the elevator to the penthouse floor. Humming to himself, he looked at the lingerie packet and Tiffany box he’d concealed in a plain brown bag. He wanted to see her in something different every night of their honeymoon, before he saw her in nothing but his arms.

The house was quiet as he went inside. “Hey, baby,” he called out, noting the silence of the almost always playing stereo. He entered the large open space that was the living, dining, and den area. No Hope. He continued to the kitchen, where he saw the note as soon as he turned the corner:

He set down the packages, pulled the cell phone from his briefcase, and noted a couple missed calls. Belatedly, he remembered how poor the cell phone reception was in some of the mall stores. Smiling, he hid Hope’s honeymoon package in the closet and decided to fix a protein drink before calling his baby. Yes, Hope was the woman he wanted to be thinking about, the one he wanted on his mind. He hoped Millicent was happy, but she was his past. The woman occupying number one on his speed dial was his future.