The First Lady (15 page)

“Momma, only thing I want is for you to stop taking drugs.”

“I told you I’m not taking drugs!” All signs of motherly tenderness were gone in an instant. Marlene flew off the handle and slapped Aubrey in the face. I could tell she wanted to take it back right away, but the damage had been done. I had to grab Aubrey to stop him from retaliating.

He looked up at me with tears in his eyes. “Bishop, can we go now?”

I nodded my head. “Sure, son. Why don’t you take your bag downstairs? I’ll carry the box. My car is open.” He picked up the suitcase and headed for the door.

“Aubrey, please. Please, baby, don’t go. Momma needs you. Please, Aubrey!” Marlene cried desperately, but her pleas fell on deaf ears. He walked out the door without a backward glance.

Marlene turned her attention to me. “This is all your fault, Thomas Kelly. This is all your fault.”

She took a misguided swing at me, and I grabbed her shoulders, shaking her a few times as I shouted, “No, Marlene! This is your fault.”

She crumbled in my arms. “He’s all I’ve got, Thomas Kelly. He’s all I got.”

“No, Marlene. You’ve got me and everyone else. You’ve just got to get yourself together.”

“But I don’t have a problem.”

It was like déjà vu. We’d had this same conversation about her addiction more than twenty-five years ago when I left her to come to New York. “Yes, you do have a problem, Marlene. And you know it, but nobody can help you until you’re ready for us to help you.” I guided her over to the sofa and picked up the box that Aubrey had filled with his video games. “When you’re ready to get yourself together, I’ll be here. Until then, I pray you keep yourself out of harm’s way.”

It was around 10:30
p.m.
when the bishop called me from the New Jersey Turnpike. When we’d spoken earlier, he said he wanted to stop by and talk to me, but I had just about given up on him by the time his call came in. He was a little more than an hour away from Queens, he explained, after dropping off someone’s child in Washington, D.C. I didn’t bother asking whose child it was, because he was always doing things like that, helping out friends and members of the church. Besides, I was more interested in the fact that he asked if it was too late to stop by and talk. With a smile so big, I was sure he could see it through the phone, I told him it was never too late.

He didn’t go into any detail other than to repeat that he wanted to speak to me before I left for my sister’s place in Mississippi, but I could tell from his voice that he was stressed and probably a little tired from the drive. No problem. I knew exactly how to fix that.

I hung up the phone and went down to the kitchen, taking out the pork chops I’d purchased earlier in the day just for this occasion. Him coming by much later than expected was actually a good thing. Despite everything that had happened the night before with Trustee Forrest and his wife, I had reason to believe he wasn’t really coming over to talk. I hoped he was coming over to make love to me. Why else would he insist on coming over to my place so late? If he wanted to tell me he had to stop seeing me because of the church rumors, he could have done that over the phone. Calls at this time of night were usually only meant for one thing, a booty call, and I would be more than happy to oblige. Preacher or not, I knew he would come around sooner or later. I hadn’t met a man yet who could resist me. We would just have to be a little more discreet.

Once I finished cooking the pork chops and fried some apples, I had about a half hour until the bishop’s arrival. I went upstairs, took a shower, combed my hair, and made my face, then I slipped into my favorite black teddy and matching satin robe. When he showed up at my door, I planned on giving him something to look at—well, actually, I planned on giving him a lot more than something to look at, but that would come after my pork chops. No man should be forced to make love on an empty stomach.

When my doorbell rang, my heart was beating so fast, I thought it was going to come out of my chest. Something told me tonight was the night that I was finally going to make love to Bishop T.K. Wilson. I couldn’t believe how excited I was, like a teenage girl about to lose her virginity with a cherished boyfriend. I couldn’t wait to have him in my arms.

I opened the door, and the bishop glanced at my black teddy, swallowing hard. He was so mesmerized by my outfit that he did a double take, tripping over the threshold as he walked through the door. He was having such a hard time trying not to look at my satin-covered breasts that it took him a few seconds to gather his composure.

“Sor … sorry to be … stopping by so late, Sister Monique,” he managed to say while he kept sneaking glances at my scantily clad body. “But I really needed to talk to you.”

How cute. He was still trying to pretend that he was only here to talk. These churchpeople sure had him paranoid. “No problem, Bishop. You can stop by anytime you like. Why don’t you have a seat in the living room?” I led the way, of course, to let him enjoy the view. He followed me into the living room.

“Have a seat. Can I get you a cold beer, Bishop?”

He shook his head as he sat down. “No. I’m not going to be here long. I know you have to catch a flight in the morning, and I just wanted to talk to you before you left.”

“And I wanna talk to you, too, Bishop, but it’s going to have to wait because I have a surprise for you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A surprise?”

I stood in front of him, just out of reach, and his eyes roamed over my body, stopping at my bare thighs. For the first time that I could remember, he didn’t even attempt to hide his gaze. The sexy way he looked me up and down made my nipples hard and my insides moist. I could tell he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

“Yes, a surprise.” I teased him by closing the robe over my teddy to conceal my cleavage. “Have you eaten?”

“No, I was going to pick up something on the way home.”

“Well, I knew you were going to be hungry when you got here, so I made you some dinner.”

“That’s very kind of you, Sister Monique, but I really think we should talk first.” His eyes stayed on my face now. He was trying to get serious on me, and for a minute it cramped my style, but then I regained my confidence. He might try to pretend he didn’t want me, but I wasn’t having it. This was my last night in New York for a while, and things were going to go the way I had planned.

“We’re going to talk, Bishop, but not until after you’ve eaten my pork chops and fried apples.”

“Pork chops and fried apples?” His eyes lit up almost more than they had at the sight of my flesh. It was as if I’d just introduced him to Jesus Christ. There was something about that man and pork chops that was almost scary. “I thought I smelled something good when I walked in your house.” Long gone was the serious face, replaced by a big grin.

“No, Bishop. That would be me that smells good.” I chuckled.

“You always smell good, Sister Monique,” he said coyly. “But I was talking about something edible.”

So was I, I thought. Something you could eat all night long.

I stopped my little fantasy because I was getting off track. “So, are you hungry or am I going to have to throw those pork chops out?”

“Noooo, don’t do that, Sister,” he protested. “We don’t want those pork chops to go to waste.”

“Good. Then follow me.”

He stood up and I turned slowly, walking toward the dining room, knowing his eyes were like laser beams on my swaying hips. I flicked on the light, revealing a platter of pork chops, fried apples, and a small ice bucket with three Heinekens in it. The table was set for one.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Sister?”

“No, Bishop. I made this all for you. Now, make sure you drink that beer with your pork chops. Fried apples, pork chops, and ice-cold beer is a Mississippi delicacy.” I pulled out his chair. “Now, you sit down and eat while I go get the second part to my surprise.”

“A second part?” I couldn’t tell from his expression if he was nervous or eager, but I chose to believe he was looking forward to more surprises from me.

“Trust me, Bishop. Just like the pork chops, you’re going to love the second part of my surprise.” I took the serving fork and placed two pork chops and some apples on his plate; then I popped opened one of the beers, pouring it into a glass. “Enjoy. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“How could I not?” He picked up his fork and knife and started to eat. I just hoped that when we made love, he would be just as enthusiastic, because he looked like he was in seventh heaven when he ate my pork chops.

About fifteen minutes later, I walked into the dining room and stood behind the bishop’s chair, then began to massage his shoulders. His muscles were tight, a telltale sign that he was nervous about what I was doing, but you would have never known it from his words.

“Sister Monique, your hands are like magic. That feels so good. My wife used to massage my neck like this after a good meal.”

I gave him an even deeper massage, and I could feel his body begin to relax. His muscles felt so good in my hands. “You’d be surprised at things I know how to do to make a man happy, Bishop.”

He didn’t respond, but he also didn’t become tense at my obviously suggestive words. Well, that was a good start, I thought as I watched him swallow what was left in his glass. He’d finished off four pork chops, most of the apples, and drank two beers. “You know, I must say these pork chops were so good. And you’re right, they do go good with a cold beer.”

“Why, thank you, Bishop. Why don’t you finish the last one?”

He reached for the last bottle, then pulled his hand back. “No, no, I better not. I still have to drive home. But before I leave, there’s something we need to discuss.” He reached up and stopped the massage, then cleared his throat like he had something important to say. “Sister Monique,” he began, turning his head to look at me.

I walked to his side and posed to reveal my second surprise. The bishop stared at me in disbelief. While he was eating, I’d gone upstairs and changed into a pink dress. It was conservative enough to hide my cleavage but showed off enough of my figure to still attract a man’s attention. I highlighted the whole ensemble with a pair of pink shoes and a pink-and-white hat. It may not have been my style, but you couldn’t tell me I didn’t look good.

“Well, what do you think? I told you I had a surprise. Could you take me to church if I wore this?”

He stood up, nodding his head. Aside from the appreciation in his gaze, I could tell from his eyes that the bishop had a little bit of a buzz. This was good, because as much as I knew he wanted me, he was the type of man who needed a little loosening up. He was also the type of man who needed to protect his reputation, so I would have to make the first move.

“The way you look right now, I would take you anywhere. You look beautiful.” He said it so sincerely, it made me feel warm inside, and if I’d had any reservations before about my next move, I no longer did. I stepped up and kissed him gently on the lips.

“I just wanted you to know that I heard you loud and clear last night. I understand that if I wanna be with you, I have to at least
appear
to play their game. I’m willing to do that, but I want you to know that I’m still me underneath.” I reached back, unzipping the dress until it fell forward, revealing my black teddy, this time without the robe.

The bishop took a deep breath, knowing it was time to make a decision. He was either going to walk out the door or take me to my room and make love to me. And I was going to do everything in my power to entice him to stay. I stepped forward and reached up, placing my hand behind his head and pulling him toward me. Neither of us said a word, and before long, our lips met. I slid my tongue into his mouth, and he met it eagerly with his own. When our kiss broke, I was out of breath, but somehow I was able to mumble, “I want you, Bishop.”

I waited a moment for him to give me an answer. God only knows what was going through his mind, but I was actually getting a little impatient. I wanted him, but even more, I wanted him to want me. He just wasn’t moving fast enough. Too many people think that love is about friendship, communication, and respect, but my momma didn’t raise no fool. No man can truly love a woman unless he’s sleeping with her, and I wanted him to love me, so I said it again. “I want you, Bishop.”

“I want you too,” he finally whispered. “God forgive me, but I want you too.”

He lifted me up, and I melted into his strong arms. He carried me into the bedroom, our lips still locked together, then gently laid me down on my bed and began to undress.

Have you ever had a dream that was so good, you wanted to just close your eyes and go back to it? Well, that’s how I felt as I clutched my pillow with my eyes shut tight. I just wanted to get back to my dream of making love to Monique. I knew it was lustful and wrong, but it was so doggone good and felt so real that I wanted it to continue forever. I lay with my eyes closed for a moment, mulling over the idea of being with Monique for real. If she were anywhere close to being as good in bed as she was in my dream, it just might be worth losing my church over.

Okay, that was the devil talking, not me. I would never risk my church, no matter how tempting she might have been.

I took a long whiff into my pillow, savoring Monique’s scent. The dream had been so vivid I could actually still imagine her perfume as if it were real. I inhaled again, and as my mind entered full consciousness, I froze in shock. My eyes flew open, and a chill ran through me, reality hitting me head-on like a Mack truck. The scent I’d been savoring was real. My dream was not a dream at all, but reality.

I turned over cautiously and looked around the room, and my fears were confirmed. Not only had I slept with Monique, but I also was still in her bed. A wave of panic overtook me.

“Father, what have I done?” I asked out loud, trying to ignore the lustful memories of Monique and me making love that were flooding my head one after the other. My mind and body knew exactly what I had done, and they were trying to overrule my heart, which was burning with guilt and shame now. I placed my hands over my eyes and dropped my head, hoping to will away the visions.