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Authors: Nikita Lynnette Nichols

BOOK: Lady Elect
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“This ain't his business. For now, this is between me and you. But your secrets, Natasha, aren't mine to keep. If I find out that you're still acting stupid, we're gonna have a problem. And I don't know who the man's wife is, and I don't wanna know, but if she's anything like me ...”
Natasha reflected back to Arykah boldly approaching her and Destiny. She reflected back to Arykah calling her a trick and stupid. She recalled Arykah pouring the hot sauce on the Doritos, then turning the bag upside down and eating from it. She could still hear Arykah's loud belch. “I hope she ain't nothing like you, Lady Arykah.”
 
 
Arykah ran her foot from Lance's waist up to his chest, then upward to tickle his neck with her toes. The candles along the edge of the Jacuzzi tub served as the perfect romantic setting. The water was steaming, and bubbles danced all around them. Lance gently grabbed her foot and inserted her big toe in his mouth, then withdrew it.
Arykah melted. The bathroom was foggy and hot. The candles provided just enough light for Arykah to see Lance's eyes drinking her in. His forehead was wet. Streams of sweat ran from his eyebrows down to his chin. His dark chocolate complexion glistened against the candlelight.
At that moment, just looking at him, Arykah fell in love with her husband all over again. “Oh my God, you're so handsome,” she said.
Lance smiled. “You think so?”
“I absolutely do.” She watched as Lance inserted each of her toes, one by one, in his mouth and withdrew them, giving her toes a personal bath.
With his eyes Lance invited Arykah closer to him. She knew he was ready. Knew what he wanted. He needed her, and, at that moment, she craved his touch. She scooted across the tub and placed both of her legs outside of Lance's legs. He grabbed Arykah by the back of her hair and yanked her head backward, exposing her neck and lengthening it, giving himself complete access to it. Arykah purred like a kitten when he leaned forward and placed his tongue on her chin and ran it down her neck to her cleavage.
Lance played with Arykah's cleavage with his tongue, then looked up at her. “I love the way you taste, Cheeks. You ready for me?”
“Always,” she moaned.
He drained the tub and took his wife to bed.
Chapter 13
At
4:00
P.M.
Saturday afternoon, Darlita, Gladys, and Chelsea were seated at Catch 35 Seafood Restaurant in Naperville, Ill. Earlier in the week, Arykah had called each of the ladies and extended an invitation to join her for an early dinner. On the telephone, Arykah revealed that she had some exciting news to share.
Their first lady was running late so the ladies decided to order drinks while they waited for her to arrive.
“Did Lady Arykah tell either of you why she wanted to meet today?” Gladys asked Darlita and Chelsea.
Darlita shook her head. “Nope. She just said that she wanted to have dinner and share some good news, but I have no idea what it is. She was acting kind of mysterious.”
“Well, all I know is,” Chelsea started, “that she told me on last Sunday that she was putting something together and she wanted me to be a part of it.”
“I have absolutely no idea what she's up to. I was quite surprised that she called me,” Gladys added. “We all know that Lady Arykah isn't too friendly.” She drank from a glass of raspberry iced tea.
“I beg to differ,” said Chelsea. “I think Lady Arykah has her guard up. Each of us knows that we were told that we
had
to hate her. From the moment she got to Freedom Temple, the entire church sent her bad vibes. When I approached her and complimented her on her boots, she spoke to me like we had been friends for years.”
“One thing I can say about Lady Arykah is that she gives some great advice,” Darlita stated, reflecting back to when she had confided in Arykah about her cheating husband.
After telling Arykah that she wanted to divorce her husband because he was a serial cheater and refused to honor his wedding vows, Darlita left Arykah's office assured that she was doing the right thing by freeing herself from an unhealthy and unhappy marriage.
“And she stands her ground,” Gladys added. “If she believes in something, she supports it. She shut Mother Pansie down about making unwed mothers stand before the church and ask for forgiveness.”
“Really?” Darlita asked. “I know Mother Pansie was hot.”
“Yep,” Gladys chuckled. “When I told her that Lady Arykah said that Miranda didn't have to stand before the church, Mother Pansie ran up those steps to Lady Arykah's office so fast, all I saw was dust in the air behind her.”
Chelsea laughed. “And knowing Lady Arykah, I'll bet you fifty bucks that Mother Pansie left that office with her tail between her legs.”
“I'm not gonna bet you anything because with a grandbaby on the way, I need
all
my money,” Gladys laughed.
“Well, all I have to say is that I'm glad Lady Arykah has come along. She is shaking things up at Freedom Temple but in a good way,” Darlita said.
Chelsea drank from a glass of strawberry lemonade. “Lady Arykah got that classy swag going on. She's conservative but at the same time, she's down to earth.”
“And I'd give anything to see her closet,” Darlita added. “Is it just me or have either of you noticed that Lady Arykah has been at Freedom Temple for almost five months and she has yet to wear a repeater? I mean, how big can her closet be?”
“And her shoes. How in the world can she walk in those high heels?” Gladys wondered out loud. “She may as well be walking on stilts.”
Darlita looked toward the entrance door of the restaurant and saw a lady talking to a waitress. She resembled Arykah, but Darlita dismissed the thought of it being Arykah because the lady had blond hair. But the more Darlita stared at the woman, the more she looked like Arykah. “Is that Lady Arykah over there?”
Chelsea and Gladys both turned to see the woman Darlita was speaking of. The waitress pointed in their direction. All three of their mouths fell open when Arykah turned around and started walking toward them.
“Oh my God,” Gladys said. “It
is
her.”
Arykah approached their table. “Hey, ladies. I'm glad y'all made it.”
They couldn't speak. Chelsea, Gladys, and Darlita stared at Arykah like they had no clue who she was.
Arykah stood before them with a blond Farrah Fawcett wig on her head and wearing a pink T-shirt that read
Fat Is The New Skinny
in gold letters across the front. She also wore black jeggings which were denim jeans that clung to her legs like leggings. Five-inch pink stilettos were on her feet.
She saw how the ladies gawked at her. “Yes, it's me. Y'all can close your mouths now.” Arykah sat down at the table.
Chelsea was the first to speak. “I can't believe it. You look totally different.”
She was referring to Arykah's blond wig.
“Has the bishop seen you with your new look?” Darlita asked.
“Let me tell you something, Darlita,” Arykah said, placing the linen napkin across her lap. “I gotta keep my marriage hot. It's my job to keep my man focused only on
me
. So, every now and then, I change it up a little. I can't allow my husband to become bored. A bored man will eventually stray.”
“Amen to that,” Gladys said. “Where was your advice before my husband strayed? Heck, I would've come home with a green clown's wig and a big round red plastic nose if that's all it took.”
All the ladies laughed at Gladys's comment.
“You know what, Gladys?” Arykah started. “Men like variety. That's why their heads are always turning when a woman walks by. Bishop Lance is no different. He likes pretty women.
All
men do. But because I know that my husband is a true man, and men never vary from the script, I have to always keep him interested in
me
.
“Shoot, Bishop Lance doesn't know who'll be at home when he walks through that front door. On a Monday night, I'll be a French maid, uniform and all. On a Tuesday night, I'll be an Asian lady with a short black bob cut wig, wearing a kimono, bowing down to him with his slippers in my hand. On a Wednesday night, Bishop Lance could walk in the front door and see BoonQueesha wearing a bustier and fishnet stockings twirling around a stripper pole in the living room.”
All three ladies screamed. Everyone in the restaurant looked in their direction.
“Who is BoonQueesha?” Gladys asked, covering her gaping mouth.
Arykah looked at Gladys with raised eyebrows and a dancing neck. “
I'm
BoonQueesha.”
Gladys couldn't close her mouth. “Oh my goodness. Lady Arykah, you are too much.”
“Chile, please,” Arykah said. “There's way too much temptation in this world. Married men don't stand a chance with all the floozies running around. I swear to y'all that role playing works. If a wife is serious about her marriage and keeping her man at home, she has to be smart. She has to find ways to keep him interested. By role playing, a woman can make her man believe that he has options. He'll have the fantasy of being with another woman without cheating on his wife because his wife
is
that other woman.”
“I heard
that
, Lady Arykah,” Chelsea said. “I ain't married yet, but thanks for the 411. I'll know exactly what to do.”
“And start a wig collection,” Arykah advised. She flipped her wig from her shoulders.
“Tonight, I'll be one of Charlie's angels coming to rescue the bishop from a hostage situation.”
Darlita laughed. “I love it.”
“One thing I can say for sure, Lady Arykah,” Chelsea started. “Bishop Lance has certainly changed for the better since he's been married. He's much more laid-back, and he doesn't seem to take things so seriously anymore.”
“And the bishop smiles more too,” Darlita added. “After Gwen died, he—” Darlita caught herself.
Chelsea and Gladys looked from Darlita to Arykah.
“It's okay, Darlita. You can talk about her,” Arykah encouraged. “Bishop Lance has shared with me about Gwendolyn. I know he was engaged to her, and I know how she died. He told me about the accident. He said it nearly killed him mentally.”
“I am so sorry, Lady Arykah. I didn't mean to bring Gwen's name up. I was just saying how much happier the bishop is now that you're in his life. After Gwen died, he shut himself down. He was depressed all the time.”
“Tell me about Gwen. What was she like?” Arykah asked the ladies.
“Well, she wasn't anything like you, that's for sure,” Chelsea stated.
“Gwen was the quiet type,” Gladys added.
Arykah chuckled. “You don't think of me as the quiet type?”
“Heck, no
,” Darlita said laughing. “I definitely wouldn't list you in the ‘quiet type' category.”
“You are the total opposite of Gwen,” Chelsea said.
“In what way?” Arykah asked.
“In
every
way,” Gladys answered. “Gwen was shy, timid, submissive—”
“I'm submissive,” Arykah interrupted Gladys.
“I meant that Gwen was submissive to the mothers,” Gladys said. “Mother Pansie and Mother Gussie loved Gwendolyn because she did everything they wanted her to do. They thought that she was the ideal woman for our bishop, and they trained her to be the perfect first lady.”
“So, that's why I can't catch a break with those two. I don't bow down to them,” Arykah said.
“It's
that,
and the way you carry yourself,” Darlita offered. “You wouldn't catch Gwen in heels higher than two inches. She didn't wear false eyelashes. She didn't own a lot of bling. All of her skirts were below the knees.
“I remember a time when Gwendolyn came to church with a low-cut blouse on. I thought she was cute, but Mother Pansie quickly threw a sweater around her shoulders and buttoned it up to her neck. She told Gwen to show some respect in the sanctuary and as the bishop's fiancée. Then she told Gwen that she had to be more careful of what she wore to church.”
Arykah looked at Darlita. “Girl, are you serious?”
“Yep,” Darlita answered. “That's why the mothers are gunning for you. You don't allow them to control you like they controlled Gwen, and they don't know how to deal with that.”
“Forget the deacons. The mothers ran the church until you came along,” Gladys said.
“So, they'll probably drop dead when they see my blond Farrah Fawcett wig come Sunday morning, huh?” Arykah asked.
Chelsea laughed. “I can't wait.”
The waiter came to the table to take the ladies' orders.
“Okay, girls. Tonight is on me, so order whatever you like,” Arykah said happily.
Gladys, Chelsea, and Darlita were impressed when they saw the cheapest entree on the menu cost fifty dollars.
When the waiter walked away with their orders, Arykah gave each of the ladies a three-by-five envelope she had pulled from her pink authentic Hermes Birkin bag. They opened the envelopes and saw an invitation inside.
Darlita was the first to pull her invitation from her envelope. She read it out loud.
“You're invited to spend an evening with Lady Arykah at The Massage Palace. Come and be pampered from your head to your toes. Saturday, March 19th, 2012, at seven
P.M.
This is a red-carpet event. Stilettos provided by Lady Arykah.”
“What?”
Chelsea and Gladys squealed at the same time.
“Is this for real?” Darlita asked, rereading the invitation. She grinned from ear to ear.
“Of course,” Arykah answered. They had given her the exact reaction she was looking for. The ladies were excited, and so was she.
“Oh, Lady Arykah, this is so nice of you to do this. I've never been to a spa,” Gladys said.
“I'm speechless,” Chelsea said. “Thank you so much. This is so unexpected.”
“You're giving us stilettos?” Darlita asked excitedly. “Like the kind
you
wear?”
Arykah smiled. She couldn't wait to tell them. “We will be walking the red carpet in Christian Louboutins
.
”
Darlita, Chelsea, and Gladys screamed, drawing attention to their table again. Arykah was especially excited, even more excited than the ladies were. She was more than happy to treat them to an evening of elegance and relaxation.
“All of you must be at my house by five
P.M.
,” Arykah said. “I've hired a limousine to drive us. But before we head to the spa, we're gonna have a stiletto party. We will put our heels on and dance. And I've convinced the bishop to make us hors d'oeuvres.”
“What?”
Gladys couldn't believe it.

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