Married on Mondays (8 page)

The last words her mother spoke before DéJà went to live with Mason were, “DéJà, your father is here to pick you up. You’re
going to live with your two sisters. Don’t forget anything I’ve taught you. You are not a follower. You are a leader.”

She pried two English muffins apart, put them in the toaster, removed the eggs, and placed them on a separate towel. Removing
the four English muffin halves from the toaster, she layered them with Canadian bacon, an egg, then topped each with hollandaise
sauce.

“Breakfast ready?” her husband shouted from the bedroom.

“Almost, honey!”

Never wanting to disappoint her mother, DéJà was the best at everything she’d done. She’d done all her mother desired until
the day her mother sent her to live with her dad. That was the day DéJà rebelled, defying Mason about all the things he wanted
her to do. To her surprise, her dad wasn’t the disciplinarian her mother had been.

Mason had told her, “Your decisions today dictate your future. I’m going to provide you with the best education you need to
become successful. If you don’t want to go to high school with your sisters, fine. I’ll send you to whatever high school you’d
like. You’ve got four years to live with me. But when you turn eighteen, you either go to college or you go home to your mother.”

D
éJà’s dad’s threat to send her back to Boston was the motivation she needed to implement the things her mother had taught
her. The next morning she’d adjusted her attitude, was the first dressed for school, and was downstairs waiting for her sisters.
Her father walked in the living room, and DéJà kept dancing and singing Beyoncé’s “If I Were a Boy.”

Mason told her, “You, my lovely queen, are a shining star. Why don’t you teach princess and angel how to dance and sing like
that? I’m placing you in charge.” Her dad had given each of them nicknames. Hers was fitting because queen ranked above Victoria’s
angel and Foxy’s princess.

With her father’s blessings and her mother’s principles, DéJà took the lead and taught her sisters how to bake, cook, sew,
sing, and dance. Things had to be perfect or they had to be done over until Foxy and Victoria got it right. Sometimes DéJà
made them stay up all night. When Foxy and Victoria rebelled against her, DéJà had called her mom.

Her mom told her, “You must master making them obey you. Let them choreograph a few routines. Have them perform for you. Then
you must compliment them, then immediately crack your whip, and take charge by teaching them how to perform to your standards.
They will learn to please you. Give it some time.”

Her mother’s lesson on how to get people to submit became an endless quest for control. In college, like breathing, domination
came natural to DéJà. College was where she’d practiced bondage, dominance, and sadomasochism on unsuspecting students who
became her slaves. Mastering being a dominatrix, controlling men and women, DéJà earned the title Mistress DéJà and started
charging for her services and making her slaves write her papers, carry her books, massage her feet, and bring her food.

Acer sat at the table, tossed his tie over his shoulder.

“Honey, do you think I should make sticky buns today or honey buns?” DéJà asked, placing his plate in front him. Each morning
she’d let him decide what she should bake at the shop.

“Definitely sticky buns,” he said, nodding. “I like those more.”

Her mother would say, “DéJà. Always let your husband think he’s smarter than you, but know that you are wiser.”

“Sticky buns it is. I’ll bring you some home tonight.”

She admired her husband. Six-four, two hundred and forty pounds with less than 5 percent body fat, he was the type of man
she had to marry. Some saw her strong physical attraction to Acer as shallow. Acer had a muscular body. His midsection was
thick, wide. Stomach flat and hard. His skin was smoother than a baby’s. If men could pursue gorgeous, smart women, why shouldn’t
she have married a stunning attorney?

DéJà met Acer Dawson at the company-client social for Brown, Cooper, and Dawson that Foxy had invited her and Victoria to.
That was the same day Victoria met Naomi and Winton proposed to Foxy. When things began falling apart for Foxy and Winton,
Acer proposed. Their near three years of marriage was perfect. DéJà worked daily to make sure their relationship stayed that
way.

Ten minutes after saying grace, Acer’s three eggs Benedict and ten strips of bacon were devoured. He liked his food, his shower,
and his wife, hot, hotter, and hottest.

“I’m a little horny, precious,” Acer said smiling at her.

“There’s no such thing as a little horny.” DéJà stood, grabbed his tie, then led him to the bedroom. Undressing him, she pushed
Acer on the bed, then firmly said, “Turn over.” DéJà straddled her husband. She began massaging his back. Long, firm strokes
from the arch of his lower back up to his spine to his neck. She jabbed his shoulder blades. Her hands circled his shoulders,
traveled down his sides, and back up his spine. She kneaded his shoulders, chopped his sides, then slapped his ass. Squeezed
his neck, slapped, chopped, kneaded some more, before repeatedly gripping his ass.

“Turn over,” she said, rolling him onto his back.

Pouring kama sutra oil in her small hands, quickly she rubbed her palms, then gripped his dick, and began stroking him hard
and fast. Up and down, she massaged her husband. Ten minutes later, right before Acer’s muscles contracted to ejaculate, she
tugged his balls away from his body. Bringing her husband to orgasm without allowing him to ejaculate gave him lots of energy
throughout the day and stamina for her pleasure throughout the night.

“You go shower again. Get ready for work. You’ve got my pussy hot. Your queen is going to sex you crazy when you get home,”
DéJà told him. She had to be careful not to refer to herself as Mistress DéJà when with her husband.

Unlike with Foxy and Victoria’s marriages, DéJà’s trust and love for Acer never wavered. No person could ever replace her
husband. Not even for a minute.

F
or every relationship demolished

A new one blossomed

For every child forgotten

One was conceived

For every triumph

There were obstacles

For every bleeding heart

There were unforeseen thumps of joy

Was love at first sight real or a myth?

Victoria never imagined she’d fall deeply in love with a woman. She was born straight, not a lesbian. She loved dating men.
Came close to marrying several men. Was curious about being intimate with women. Had sex with a few women while she was in
college and she enjoyed it. Did that make her bisexual? Trysexual? A freak? The one thing Victoria knew was that she was a
woman capable of making independent decisions about her life, her body, her sexuality, and her choice of mate.

Her cell phone buzzed, startling her. Victoria slid out of Naomi’s arms, picked up her BlackBerry, then quickly silenced the
buzzer. Wednesday, 4:00 a.m. It was time for her to get up, but a phone call from Rain was not supposed to be her alarm. She
looked over at her wife. Naomi was sound asleep. She accepted the call before it went to voicemail, tiptoed to the guest bedroom,
then sternly answered, “What?”

“I want to see you, Victoria, that’s what. Come over,” he said.

His demands to see her were getting out of control. To Rain it was like she’d never married Naomi. His relentless behavior
made Victoria wish she’d never met him at Crème City Hall. She’d gone to city hall to drop off documents for her business,
say hello to her councilperson, and meet with the mayor. As she entered the mayor’s office, Rain was exiting. When her meeting
was over, the mayor’s assistant handed her Rain’s card. Victoria immediately realized the benefits of befriending the chief
of police.

“I can’t. I already see you twice a week in the evening. I’m not leaving my house at four in the morning to see you.”

She hesitated. There were a few reasons she’d decided not to marry him. Maybe her reasons were actually excuses. Rain admired
her more than he loved her. She could’ve learned to love him. He shared how all his childhood he’d dreamt of being chief of
police. He’d fought his way through high school. Sometimes he won. Sometimes he lost. But he always had to fight. Rain’s biggest
battle was to prove to his parents he could do something right. He graduated from high school and put himself through college.

“Just this one time. I need you, Victoria.”

She became silent.

“Please. I’m so weak for you, Victoria. Don’t make me beg. I promise I won’t ask to see you in the morning again.”

Victoria felt sorry for Rain. He was a man with so much power, feeling helpless over their breakup. She wasn’t to blame, but
she did have compassion for him. To have parents that didn’t love him as a child must’ve made him lonely. Lonely people needed
someone to love and someone to love them back.

“Fine. Just this once.” Victoria ended the call.

She tiptoed into the walk-in closet, put on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and slipped on her flip-flops. Quietly stepping
out of the closet, Victoria eased toward the bedroom door.

“Sweetcakes, where’re you going this early?”

Victoria’s heart raced. She hated lying to anyone, especially Naomi. Holding her BlackBerry in her hand, Victoria said, “Didn’t
mean to wake you. DéJà is running late, so I’m going to the shop to meet the delivery person. If I don’t make it back before
you leave, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, sweetcakes. Be careful.”

“I will,” Victoria said.

She drove east on Shoreline Drive toward Rain’s house. Bypassing Foxy’s home, she noticed the lights were on. Victoria traveled
twenty minutes in the opposite direction from the shop. Parking in his driveway, she turned off her engine, sat in her car.
She couldn’t lie. She still enjoyed the touch of his hands, the feel and scent of a man. His balls slapping against her pussy
intensified her orgasms. Why couldn’t she have a husband and a wife?

Rain opened his door, motioned for her to come in.

Victoria went inside. “Why are you calling me this early?” she asked.

“I woke up with the taste of your pussy in my mouth. Wanted to see you. We need to talk about your situation. Have a seat,”
he said, sitting beside her on the sofa. “I thought this marrying a woman thing was something you had to get out of your system.
If you love her so much, why do you keep having sex with me?”

“You’re my client.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I’m not your client. I don’t pay to make love to you, Victoria. You keep trying to rationalize
our relationship, but you can’t deny our love for one another. I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I have a solution.”

He’d come up with a solution for her situation or his?

Rain said, “Leave her. I’ll pay for the annulment. Marry me. Naomi can find someone else. I can’t.”

Victoria shook her head. “You’re funny. You know that? You know I’m not taking this seriously, right? I love my wife. I’m
not leaving her for you. I’d never leave Naomi for you. What ‘cop gone wild’ dream did you have last night?”

Rain rubbed the back of his neck. Stretched his head side to side. Folded his arms. Bit his fingernail while staring at her.
“You think I’m a joke?”

“I apologize. No, I don’t think you’re a joke.”

Rain slid his hand inside her sweats, stuck his finger inside her pussy, stared at her while sucking her juices. “You love
me too, don’t you?”

“But I’m not in love with you. I’ve never been
in love
with you.” She had to tell him the truth. Once Rain had gotten an idea in his head it was hard, if not impossible, to get
it out.

“You’re a liar, Victoria. You are in love with me.” He parted her lips with his tongue. Kissed her as though if she could
taste the sweetness of her pussy, she’d understand why he desperately wanted to change her mind. Make her admit she still
loved him.