Married on Mondays (20 page)

“Nope.” Acer’s plate was half empty.

Her husband ate faster. He knew regardless of his answers, she’d make her own decisions. She just needed him to listen to
her.

“Breakfast was great,” Acer said, kissing her forehead. “I’d better get going. If you want to talk later, call me at noon.
Love you,” he said, excusing himself from the table.

“Honey, wait. Come back,” DéJà said. “You forgot that fast. You’re dropping me off.”

“Oh, yeah, throw on something quick,” he said.

“Sit down for minute,” DéJà said to him.

Acer frowned. Sat in his seat. Covered her hand with his. “What is it?”

“I want us to have a baby,” she said. DéJà was serious ’bout not letting Foxy have the firstborn.

A smile stretched across her husband’s face. He loosened his tie, carried her to the bedroom. Undressed her.

“I have to get on the bottom,” DéJà said, holding her legs in the air, praying they would get pregnant soon.

Acer stroked deep inside her.

“When you cum, push all the way in,” she told him. Gripping his ass, she pulled him toward her, tilted her pelvis, held his
ass tighter. “We’re going to have to do this a lot. It’s going to take time for me to start ovulating but I want this baby
as soon as possible.”

Her husband hadn’t ejaculated in the morning for years. Now, he’d have to cum deep inside her at least twice a day until she
became pregnant. “Go shower and get dressed. We’re late. Never mind. Don’t wait for me. I’ll figure out how to get my car
back,” she said, holding her legs in the air.

Her husband showered, then danced out the door. “I love you.”

“Love you too, handsome.”

DéJà waited twenty minutes giving the sperm time to find an egg that wasn’t there. Practice would one day, hopefully soon,
produce the positive results she wanted. She cleared the table, cleaned the kitchen, called her dad.

“Hello, my queen,” he answered.

DéJà said, “Don’t give me that. Where have you been? You need to come see us.”

Mason laughed. “That’s my girl. I will, promise. Working on some things first. Give your sisters a hug for me, and Daddy will
see his three favorite ladies real soon… kisses.”

DéJà sighed, then said, “Kisses, Daddy. Bye.”

At the pace her father was moving, she’d be pregnant before she saw him.

Acer called.

“Hey, handsome.”

“Your car is parked in the driveway,” he said. “Have a nice day.”

When had Foxy dropped off her car, and why hadn’t she called?

S
ummer breeze

Carefree whispers

Is early dawn your lover

Do you steal her breath away

Heat and moisture

Blend into humidity

Dancing throughout the day

Night falls

Humidity crawls

Back into the arms of dawn

For peace and comfort

Summer breeze

Hot

So cool

Yet never cooler than dawn

Like dawn, early Monday morning at Crème was quiet. Regardless of her personal issues, Victoria had to work. Working was better
than sitting at home, soaking over problems she had no control over.

A thin man entered the pastry shop. He looked around, swiped his forehead with a white handkerchief, then stuffed it in his
back pocket. Three tables, five chairs. No waitress stirring around. He avoided eye contact with the tall mocha-complexioned
woman standing behind the counter. Had his friend given him the correct address?

Rectangular coffee bean–colored wooden tables were lined up against the wall. Padded armless chairs the same rich color appeared
comfortable enough for him to sit a while at the one unoccupied table, but he wasn’t there for coffee. He wanted the special
pastry his friend told him about.

Red velvet curtains stretched across the windows, low enough to let the sunshine in, high enough to shield seated patrons
from outsiders’ views. What if one of his coworkers drove by and saw him standing in the doorway? He’d have to make up his
mind or risk further embarrassment.

To his right, two women sat chatting at the second table from the door. They sipped from mugs, giggling like teenagers. The
opposite side of the café, one table, one chair, a man in a dark suit sat in the corner, one hand on his coffee mug, the other
holding his electronic device.

Above the counter, a flat screen was illuminated with vibrant colors. The words
Today’s Special
flashed above three scrolling pictures of pastries that made the thin man’s mouth water:

Banana Crepes with Chocolate Drizzle

Sticky Bun

Cream Cheese–Filled Spice Cupcake

His friend had told him to order the cupcake. His friend had said, “Man, the sticky bun is for people who enjoy being dominated.
You know, getting their ass beaten. And the crepes are served up by a bootylicious woman that does it all, but she’s too much
woman for you and your wife put together, man. Take cash and buy the cupcake. If they try to charge you less than a thousand,
you’ve ordered the wrong thing. Just to be safe, take three gs. They might charge extra for couples.”

The thin man scratched his head, faced the glass door, placed his hand on the steel bar.

“Excuse me, sir, may I help you with something?” Victoria asked. She stood behind the counter smiling at him. She should’ve
offered him assistance five minutes ago but didn’t want to scare him off. Behind Victoria’s smile were no worries about Rain.
She’d left those concerns at the altar yesterday, and Naomi forgave her last night.

Pivoting his body in her direction, his feet still facing the door, the thin man prepared to leave. His voice trembled, “This
place is too nice. I must have the wrong address.”

Victoria motioned for him to come closer.

Slowly he approached her, glanced up at the screen, then at the three items in the pastry display case. “I’d like
the
cupcake,” he said, hoping the way he’d enunciated the word “the” would confirm he’d come to the right shop.

“Okay, let me get one for you. I’ll be right back.”

She went to the kitchen, removed a cupcake from the tray Foxy had just placed on the rack. “We have a potential,” Victoria
said.

“Are they sure they want a cupcake?” DéJà asked, handing Victoria a cream-colored box with a red ribbon and a gold bow. “You
okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Victoria frowned, then said, “That’s what he ordered, but I’m not sure exactly what he wants yet.
I’ll find out.” She returned to the counter. “Here’s your cream cheese–filled spice cupcake. The best stuff is always in the
middle, not on top.” She smiled at the thin man who peered into the pastry display as if wanting to make a different selection.
She tapped on a few keys, then said, “That’ll be five dollars.”

The thin man’s head rattled. “That can’t be right. I was told I could get a special cupcake for my wife’s delight,” he said.

V
ictoria smiled, hoping to comfort him, as she confirmed, “You can. I have one more cupcake available. If you’d like it for
your wife, you need to fill out the top of this catering request.” She continued, “And that’ll be two thousand dollars cash.”
Victoria wondered if she should call Rain and apologize for assaulting his dick. And to find out what was brewing in his wicked
mind.

The man’s short narrow fingers unfolded his wallet. He counted out twenty one-hundred-dollar bills, laying them on the counter,
then picked up the form.

Victoria softly asked, “What’s your fantasy?”

He hunched his narrow shoulders.

She rephrased the question. “What catering services would you like?”

“Oh,” he said. “An orgasm for my wife.”

Victoria slid a white card under the red ribbon on his pastry box. “Bring her here.”

Nervous, he nodded, then asked in a low trembling voice, “What time should I bring my wife to”—he looked at the address on
the card Victoria had given him—“this location?”

He was a new customer; he wouldn’t have known the number noted in the lower right-hand corner of the card indicated his start
time. Victoria pointed, then said, “Your appointment promptly starts at four and ends at five o’clock sharp. I’ll be ready
for both of you.”

“Wow, a whole hour.” The thin man rubbed his palms on his pants. Glanced over his shoulder, around the shop, leaned closer
to Victoria, then whispered, “I’ve never done anything like this before, but my wife has never had an orgasm and I want her
to share the pleasure she gives me.”

Matching his tone, she replied, “Relax. She’ll have one today, or I’ll refund your money. See you in a few hours.”

Victoria’s surefire secret had helped nonorgasmic women experience their first. Explosive orgasms depended upon a person’s
timing and how well they knew their body. Since not all orgasms were explosive, some of her clients had had them but weren’t
aware. The same held true for women who unknowingly squirted. Some women actually ejaculated retrograde into their bladder
because they didn’t understand when to contract, relax, or push. Kind of like a man overly anxious to ejaculate experiencing
blue balls. Victoria enjoyed educating couples and singles on how to reach a higher spiritual and orgasmic state.

“I’ll sit in my car and fill this out,” he said.

Victoria picked up a freshly brewed pot of caffeinated coffee. “Refill?” she asked the ladies. She glanced over the curtains
and saw the thin man in his car writing while talking to a woman, presumably his wife, in the passenger seat.

“No, thanks. We’d better get on the road,” one of the ladies said.

“Yeah, got a long ride ahead. But this is a quaint spot. We like it. And your banana crepes are delicious.”

The man seated in the corner placed his electronic device in his pocket, followed the women out the door to the black limo.
The thin man returned, handed Victoria his form, then looked at his feet.

“You can change your mind if you’d like,” Victoria said. “Our catering services are fully refundable, no questions asked.”

The thin man said, “I don’t want my money back, but can we get together now? That would be better because if I wait I might
not show up later. I’m really nervous.”

“Is that your wife in the car?”

He nodded at his feet.

“I don’t normally do morning appointments. Wait here,” Victoria said, placing the coffee pot on the warming station, then
entering the kitchen. The thin man was a welcome mental departure from the memory of Rain hoisting her in the air. She told
Foxy, “I need to make a special accommodation. I’ll be at my place, and I’ll be back in ninety minutes. Cover for me.”

Looking at the monitor in the kitchen, Foxy said, “Not so fast. Let me get a closer look to see what this new client looks
like.” Foxy followed Victoria, picked up his form from the counter, walked outside, and wrote the thin man’s license plate
number and the color, make and model of his car. “Ninety minutes you’d better be back,” she told Victoria. “No backsliding
to you know who.”

“You first,” Victoria said, then left the shop.