Married on Mondays (27 page)

Forgive

And

Live and let live

Thursday morning, five o’clock, Victoria stood in the kitchen with Foxy and DéJà. “Forgive me,” she said. “I didn’t know what
else to do.”

Foxy stopped kneading dough. “Now, what did you do?”

DéJà told Victoria, “She must not know.”

“Know what?” Foxy brushed her hands on her apron. “You’re pregnant?”

DéJà said, “That would be great news. I am going to have Adam before you have Solomon.”

“Enough baby talk.” Victoria summarized what she’d told Naomi, hoping Foxy would understand.

“You told her what!” Foxy yelled. “As if I don’t have enough problems in my marriage. Great, Victoria. Save your ass by sacrificing
mine!”

DéJà kept kneading her lump of dough. “Calm down, Foxy. I’ve given this some thought and although what Victoria did doesn’t
seem like it, it is a good thing.”

Victoria’s brows rose. DéJà was siding with her?
Whoa.

DéJà continued, “Let me explain. We, as wives, are more empowered in our marriages than we’ve ever been before. Nothing changes
at Crème or Crème Fantasyland unless we make that decision. We no longer have to hide from our spouses what we do. Winton
will come around, and when he does, do not forget my sister. You are in control. Not him.”

Victoria’s cell phone rang. She wiped her hand, then pulled her phone from her apron pocket. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hi, angel. How are you?” he asked, sounding chipper.

“Great, Daddy. At work with my sisters,” she said, winking at DéJà and Foxy.

“Hi, Daddy,” her sisters said.

“Tell princess and queen I said hello… and…”

Victoria’s eyes grew larger. “And?”

“Take Saturday off because I’m sending a limo for my girls. I need to find out what’s happening with each of you. Y’all have
a beautiful day. Love you, angel.”

“Love you too, Daddy.” Victoria ended the call, then screamed, “Daddy is sending a limo for us Saturday!”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Foxy tossed her dough in the air, caught it, then gave DéJà a high five. Foxy asked, “Does
Dad know about Fantasyland?”

“No way,” Victoria said.

“Great,” Foxy commented.

DéJà stared at Victoria, then said, “And let’s keep it that way.”

T
hursday evening, Foxy serviced her client, shopped for groceries, bypassed Dallas’s house. She missed him already. Had he
left yet? Foxy closed the final chapter to their book. Regardless of what happened with Winton, Foxy promised herself never
to return to Dallas. She entered her home at six o’clock, sat the groceries on the island.

“Let me help you with dinner,” Winton said.

“Ou, you startled me,” she said, holding her hand to her breasts.

Winton took a few steps in her direction until they were face-to-face. “Foxy, I’m sorry for hurting you. Baby, please. Forgive
me.”

Tears streamed down her face. Her husband kissed them away.

“Please, let me start over. I want my wife back,” he said.

In her heart and mind, Foxy wondered but didn’t ask
Where is Isis? Where is Nova? When would her husband slip into the arms of another woman? Today? Tomorrow?

“I can’t do this by myself. You hurt me so bad,” she cried.

“I know, baby. We hurt each other. But I never want to hurt you again.”

She wondered how much he knew about Crème Fantasyland. What were his thoughts about her? Foxy hugged her husband.

“I apologize for hurting you. Winton, I love you so much it hurts.”

Those were the same words she had spoken to Dallas. She thought about him for a moment. Wondered how he felt now that she
was out of his life. A woman didn’t fall out of love overnight. A part of her would always love Dallas. Was her husband in
love with another woman? Other women?

Winton said, “Go relax. Let me cook dinner for my wife.”

“That, I can do,” Foxy said.

“Gorgeous?”

“Yes.” She paused in the doorway.

“Were you serious about us starting a family?”

Foxy smiled, dipped her hip, jiggled her booty, then said, “Very serious.”

S
mart or clever

Witty or wise

Funny or charming

Deception or demise

Beauty or brains

Heart or courage

Wicked or wild

Tame or tenacious

Bold or cold

Aggressive or aloof

What are the things

That matter to you

The most

Friday morning, three o’clock, Victoria eased out of the bed careful not to wake Naomi. She tiptoed to the guest bedroom,
sat on the edge of the mattress. Thanks to Brown, Cooper, and Dawson and her father, there was an interim chief of police
for Crème City.

Victoria entered the walk-in closet, turned on the light. The lingerie she’d bought last Sunday hung in the closet. She removed
the green and gold bustier, adjusted the lace tie in the back, fastened the three hooks in the front. She eased on the gold
thong with green trim, stepped into her green apple heels.

Opening the package from the pleasure store, she cleaned the six-inch green dildo, then removed the harness from the box.
Victoria curled her hair, brushed on apple-flavored lip gloss. Took a deep breath before returning to their bedroom.

She straddled her wife, placed the dildo in Naomi’s hands, then whispered, “I’m ready.”

Naomi smiled. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Positive,” Victoria said.

“You look beautiful. Stand up. Let me look at you.”

Victoria stood, posed, dropped her ass to the floor, pushed her hip to the side, then slowly stood. “You better act like you
want this new pussy,” she said, then laughed.

“Hold that pose. Let me get my camera,” Naomi said.

Naomi powered on the video recorder. She must have taken a hundred photos.

“Enough,” Victoria said, holding her hand in front the camera lens.

She watched her wife strap on. Victoria lay on the bed, lifted her legs in the air. Closed her eyes. She felt the tip of the
dildo press against her hymen. Victoria inhaled, held her wife’s shoulders. “Keep going,” she said.

Naomi penetrated her a little more.

Victoria’s eyes closed tighter as she clenched her teeth. Her nails dug into Naomi’s shoulders.

“We can stop if you’d like,” Naomi said.

Unable to speak, Victoria shook her head.

Naomi continued taking her time penetrating Victoria until the dildo was completely inside. Victoria exhaled. The stinging
sensation wasn’t pleasurable. She could’ve used a clit stimulator or put a bullet or butt plug in her ass, but Victoria wanted
to experience her first time with her wife without enhancements.

Naomi kissed her lips. “Sweetcakes, you are more beautiful than the sunrise.”

“Is this what I waited thirty years for? I sure hope this vaginal penetration feels better next time.” Glad the mystery was
finally over, Victoria kissed Naomi. “I love you.”

F
riday morning, three o’clock, DéJà stood in front of Acer. She stared down at him. She adjusted her black patent leather knee-length
trench coat. She wore nothing underneath. Her thigh-high boots were six inches short of touching her pussy.

“Lick my boot.”

Acer smiled, flicked his tongue. “Yeah.” He held her boot in his hands, then licked the toe, the sides, and the ankles as
if giving her a spit shine.

“Do not speak unless I give you permission,” DéJà said, not believing her husband was enjoying being her slave.

“Yes, Mistress-wife-precious DéJà,” he said.

Hmm
. She liked the way he said that. She suppressed her smile, resumed being serious. “Stick out your tongue and crawl behind
me,” she said, walking into the living room, through the kitchen, then back to the bedroom.

Whack!
She couldn’t resist slapping his incredible naked ass.

“Harder, please, Mistress-wife-precious DéJà,” he begged.

“You feel it this time,” she said, hitting her husband a little harder. “Open my coat,” she commanded. “Then I want you to
suck my nipples.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said untying her belt. “Oh, my God. Look at this,” he said like he hadn’t seen her naked before.

Passionately he cupped her breasts together and sucked like a baby breast-feeding. He played with her nipples, kissed them,
sucked, then buried his face in her breasts.

“That’s enough. Down on all four,” DéJà commanded.

Acer knelt before her.

DéJà placed her fists on her hips, spread her feet. Her naked upper body, trench coat, and boots made her feel like a sexy
porn star. “Lick my pussy. Slow.”

“Ou, yes, indeed, Mistress,” Acer said, sucking her shaft.

“I said lick, not suck,” DéJà commanded.

“Forget this,” Acer said, throwing her on the bed. “I’ve gotta have my pussy.”

DéJà tried to get on top and he playfully slammed her back onto the mattress. “I’m in control now,” he said. “Suck my dick,
precious.”

DéJà frowned, then said, “All right.”

“All right, what? Call me Master Acer.”

“I believe I’ve created a monster,” DéJà said. Obeying her husband’s command, she joyfully sucked his dick until he came in
her mouth.

There was no rush to have kids. She’d give her husband a child, but DéJà was no longer interested in having a baby before
Foxy.

F
riday morning, three o’clock, Foxy awakened in her husband’s arms.

Last night, dinner was perfect. Not the food Winton prepared. Dinner was perfect because they talked like a husband and wife
should. He spoke, she listened. She talked, he heard her and responded. They agreed to start anew. Promised not to dwell on
or discuss their infidelity.

Foxy glanced at the bootees she’d placed on the nightstand. “Definitely the blue one.” She wanted a boy first, then a girl.
She peeled away the covers to reveal the most attractive man alive. She wrapped her mouth around his dick.