Sex in the Sanctuary (6 page)

“I used to get so tired of going to those singles seminars,” Pat began. “And hearing these women of God quaintly telling me to hold on, wait on God, get busy for the Lord, don’t look, it will come when you least expect it, it’s better being single because you can serve God more, and my favorite—marriage is hard, marriage isn’t all you think it is! Stay single as long as you can, they’d encourage. Of course, they were all going home to husbands.”

“Exactly,” Vivian continued. “I’ve been married for fifteen years and was a workaholic before quitting my job to help Derrick, so even though I remember lonely nights, it’s not the same as Carla’s story. Nor could I ever tell any story with your passion,” she teased, lightly grabbing her friend’s arm. “The point is, all of our stories are unique and they’re all needed. There’s a myriad of situations out there, where sex and relationships are concerned, that need to be addressed.”

Vivian paused and took a sip of her tea before proceeding. “Setting the Standard versus Society’s Status Quo deals with Godly values versus the world’s values. I think we need to draw a more definite line about what’s acceptable as a woman of God and what’s not. I think we’ve all been guilty of not stressing that enough in today’s lax society. It’s like we see so much sex that we’ve become desensitized. Having a baby and not being married is no longer the exception in our neighborhood but the rule. Not enough of us are sending the message that while we all make mistakes and God forgives, this behavior is not okay. It is not in the best interest of the woman or baby, and it’s not God’s ideal family design.” Vivian waited while the waiter poured more tea and continued.
“And not having sex? That isn’t even a serious consideration for many of our young women. Being a virgin is so rare that such an admission brings applause.”

Rebecca looked up, her eyebrows raised. “Just because somebody is still a virgin?”

“Seriously,” Vivian continued. “Derrick and I were at a Christian concert the other night, and one of the young female singers proudly stated she was twenty and still a virgin. The audience cheered. Now, I’m not saying the statement wasn’t worthy of applause, but I do believe that reaction points to how unusual virginity is these days.

“The fourth and final Saturday would cover the summit theme, the Sanctity of Sisterhood. How can we be our sister’s keeper? And should we? How can we care about each other the way we used to? Respect each other like we used to. Uphold each other like we used to. I don’t want to oversimplify these issues, but I believe there would be a lot less husbands stepping out if there weren’t so many willing women to step out with, and more marriages if there weren’t so much casual sex. That we as women would feel better about each other if we felt better about ourselves. I think it’s time to really take up the cause for the Sanctity of Sisterhood and become the women who give honor to the glory of God as we set the standard for women all over the world to follow. It’s time to be the head and not the tail—above only and not beneath!”

“Unless it’s beneath our husbands,” Carla murmured.

Rebecca rolled her eyes at Carla and patted Vivian’s arm.

Vivian hadn’t realized how vehement she’d become as she finished her summit descriptions. She hadn’t noticed her eyes had become misty. The table was quiet. Chanelle folded and refolded her napkin. Ruth sat back and bowed her head as Pat looked out over the water. Carla leaned forward and spoke softly, gently teasing this time.

“And you say you can’t be passionate.”

Vivian wiped away a tear before it had the chance to run down her cheek and managed a weak smile. “I did say that, didn’t I?” She looked out over the ocean, enjoying the April breeze and remembering the conversation she’d had with Tai two weeks ago, when after Tai had initiated it, they’d discussed King’s affair.

“I’m so sorry.” Vivian wished Tai were there so she could give her a hug. “What are you going to do and how can I help?”

Tai was silent a moment before she responded.

“Tai, you still there?”

“Yeah, girl. I’m here. I’m thinking about your question, and I really, really don’t know. I’m so tired of this, so tired of feeling hurt and unappreciated and…” Tai’s voice trailed off into weary silence.

“Have you and King talked about it?”

“Not really. I asked him about Hope and he said nothing was going on.”

“Who’s Hope?”

“You remember her. She’s the one who did the dramatic reading from the Book of Ruth when you guys were here, very active, talented. On fire for the Lord, or so I thought.”

“Oh, yeah. Short, pretty girl? Lots of energy? Big smile?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I remember her.”

“Well, about a year ago she started a ministry within our church called KARE, Kingdom Arts Reaching Everybody, which emphasizes nontraditional ways for youth and young adults to serve God, like acting, dancing, sports and stuff. It’s a very good program. I was excited about it and approved it wholeheartedly along with King. In fact, I don’t doubt that she loves God.”

Vivian had leaned back in her oversized lounge chair. She had taken the phone out on the patio and stared at the beauty of her flower garden situated just beyond their heart-shaped pool before closing her eyes and trying to hear with her inner as well as outer ear. “So what happened that has you now thinking her zeal is for
your
King and not
the
King?”

“It’s not a specific incident; it’s just a feeling I have,” Tai responded. “She dresses differently, changed her hairstyle, seems to be more conspicuous, move lively in the services. I don’t have any proof that they’re having an affair, but I don’t have any proof that they’re not.” Tai laughed nervously. “Do I sound paranoid?”

“Maybe, but you have your reasons. Have you asked her?”

“Believe me, I was going to. King made me promise I wouldn’t.”

“Is that a promise you can keep?”

“I don’t know, girl, I just don’t know. What I do know is that I’m not going to continue living my life like this. King is seeing somebody. He spends too much time away from home or in his office. We’ve drifted apart again. I’m tired of putting up with his shit. I’m tired period.”

“Are you thinking about leaving King?” Vivian could barely hear her own question, she spoke so softly.

“I’m thinking about being at peace. The children love their father and he loves them. I’d never want to take that away from them. But at the same time, a woman can only take so much. You know this isn’t his first time. Or the second. How can I be guaranteed it will be the last? It was supposed to be the last time the last time.”

Vivian was quiet, praying silently in the spirit. “I just feel,” she said finally, “I just feel you should really seek God on how He wants you to handle King, and this situation. Move with His spirit and not your emotions. I’m not getting a definite word on this Hope girl, but I’m not getting an all’s clear either. I do know that whatever is going on, God is right there
with you. He’s in control, and whatever happens, you’re going to be all right.”

“I know I will,” Tai said without conviction. “It just doesn’t feel that way right now.”

Vivian glanced at her watch, sitting up as she did so. “I’ve got to get to the Ladies First meeting. In fact, Tai, I need to talk to you about that later on. But right now, let’s pray. Heavenly Father, we thank you, we bless your name…”

“Vivian, are you okay?” The words of concern from Carla snapped Vivian out of her reverie.

“I’m sorry, y’all. Yes, I’m okay—just a lot on my mind.”

“Anything we can help you with, pray about?” Rebecca inquired softly.

“Thanks Rebecca but no, not at this time. I just ask that we all keep this summit lifted in prayer as I believe it will be life changing. I pray it will be life changing to all who attend.”

Carla eyed her friend, feeling the turmoil that was going on inside her. She knew that a special prayer would be sent up for Viv and for whatever was bothering her during her prayer time later. “Well, if we’re finished here,” she began, breaking the silence. “I’ve got two nappy-head kids on their way home soon. Best get to steppin’ so I can be there to greet them.”

“Yes, ladies, we’re finished,” Vivian replied as the waiter placed the check on the table. “I’m really excited about this and appreciate all of your input. Any suggestions on where to have the next meeting?”

“You guys are welcome to have it at my place.” Chanelle had just purchased a condo and was anxious to break it in. “I haven’t had a lot of people over and would love to practice my hosting skills. I also ran across a vegetable quiche recipe that I’d love to try out.”

“Oh, Lord, here we go being somebody’s guinea pig.” Carla, blunt as always, spoke what others were thinking, “Can you cook, girl?” Chanelle nodded a yes. “Humph. I better bring a pizza, y’all, just in case.” They all laughed as Chanelle insisted no one would be poisoned or go hungry at her house, thanking Carla all the same for her generosity.

“Who wants to pray?” Vivian asked.

“I will!” Carla jumped in enthusiastically. “Lord knows we need to pray.” They all grabbed hands and bowed their heads. “Father God,” she began. “Please help Chanelle cook this food next week…” Everyone laughed in spite of themselves.

Cy was still smiling as he curled himself into his new toy, a midnight blue Bentley Azure. He was leaving City National Bank where he’d just met with his friend and business associate, Todd Green, a company vice president. Todd was the one who’d suggested that Cy get into real estate after liquidating his Internet stock and becoming an instant multimillionaire. So it was only right that Todd be taken to lunch with some of the one-and-a-half-million-dollar profit Cy had received from his latest real estate transaction.

You could barely hear the mechanism that neatly folded the Azure’s convertible top into its niche across the backseat. Cy hit the CD button, and the melodies of Boney James filled the air from a system whose sound was so pure it was as if Boney himself was playing his saxophone from the passenger seat. Cy leaned back as he smoothly navigated through afternoon traffic in Beverly Hills, turning west on Wilshire Blvd., and heading to his next meeting in Century City, another investment opportunity. Cy was mulling over this possibility as he pulled up to the traffic light and heard a horn honk. It
sounded a second time and Cy looked around. Next to him was an attractive blonde in a black Jaguar convertible. She took off her sunglasses, flashed a come-hither smile and shouted, “Hey! Love the car!” She then reached into her purse, pulled out a business card and, as the light was changing, tossed it onto his front seat, saying, “Call me. I’d love to buy you a drink.” Cy glanced at the card before continuing through the light and smiled as he shook his head back and forth. Women, how they did come on. That was the story of his life from the time he was six years old and Gracie May had pulled her pants down when they decided to play doctor in an isolated corner of the playground at recess.

It was Cy’s first look at the female anatomy and his first knowledge that girls and boys didn’t look alike “down there.” He remembered being embarrassed and astounded before shouting out, “Look, y’all. Gracie May ain’t got no dingy!” That innocent admission had brought with it the attention of Mrs. Patterson, their first grade teacher, who marched over to the corner where they were “practicing” and asked the obvious, “What are you doing?” in a stern, commanding tone. By then Gracie May had pulled up her ruffled panties and tried to smooth her wrinkled skirt that had pieces of grass and a twig hanging on it from her lying on the ground. “Nothing,” Gracie had replied hastily, her head down, eyes wide and close to tears. They had to spend the rest of recess inside with Cy writing “I will not say bad words” across the chalkboard and Gracie penning “Pulling my pants down is bad” in her Big Chief tablet. He hadn’t realized that “dingy” was a bad word and thought belatedly that “thing” might have been a better choice.

Cy’s cell phone rang as he neared the large business complex that housed the Morgan Group where his meeting would take place. He deftly navigated the crowded parking lot and slid the Azure effortlessly between two cars near the front of the building. He punched the speakerphone button as he
turned off the CD. The world seemed almost silent with the absence of Boney’s “Sweet Thing.”

“Cy speaking.”

“Hey, Mr. GQ. It’s Pamela.”

“Pamela! How are you?”

“Better now that I’m listening to that gorgeous voice of yours. Busy?”

“Yeah, heading into a meeting. Call you later?”

“You better.”

“I will. Goodbye.”

The top of the Bentley clicked quietly into place as Cy reached back for his briefcase. Pamela. He smiled at the thought of her. Pamela was a sweet lady, funny and ambitious. She wasn’t bad to look at either. And most importantly, she wasn’t a member of Kingdom Citizens’. That was a huge plus. Dealing with Millicent had taught Cy a valuable lesson in the art of dating as far as the Christian community was concerned—stay away from family. “Family” was how the members of Kingdom Citizens’ referred to each other, and with good reason. Derrick and Vivian worked hard to maintain a close, friendly, family atmosphere in a church that was nearing five thousand members. Fellowshipping with family was one thing; dating family quite another. “Too close for comfort” took on new meaning when it came to a failed romance with a person you had to see every week and worse, even work with on occasion. Not that Millicent was unfriendly. No, she was kind and as efficient as always when they worked together. But Cy knew Millicent still carried a torch for him—well, everybody knew that—and it made him uncomfortable. He had told her in no uncertain terms after just a couple months of going out that while he found her to be a nice person and beautiful woman, she was not the woman for him. He knew she’d been hurt by that revelation, but Cy didn’t want to lead anybody on and have her hoping for something that could never be. After that, even though he was
propositioned weekly if not daily by women at the church, he decided to steer clear of that pasture and look for companionship in another field.

Not that his decision had stopped Millicent or other women of Kingdom Citizens’ and other churches from trying. Cy still received dozens of letters ranging from invitations for dinner to a “word from the Lord” about his future wife, usually the writer of the letter. One time it was a mother who’d written that she had dreamed about him and her daughter marrying. Cy remembered being tempted to reply to the mother and tell her to lay off the Tabasco before going to bed, but finally decided to ignore it and hope it and she would go away, along with the others. There had been more than one pair of lacy panties and other sundry items sent in packages to the church and more than one suggestive photograph. These all came from God-fearing, tongue-talking, bonafide daughters of the Kingdom. Then there was the photograph he’d taken innocently enough with a female member at a church banquet. The picture had been copied onto a piece of blank, lacy wedding stationery filled with flowers and bells and framed with a caption reading “Mr. and Mrs. Cy Taylor” at the bottom and sent to him, along with a letter of undying love from the woman in the picture who had knowledge from God Himself that they were to be married. Why hadn’t God told him? There’d been tickets to concerts, plays, sporting events and ski trips. One lady had gone so far as to purchase the plane tickets for a weekend in the Bahamas she was sure he’d enjoy. She’d even assured him in the letter that accompanied the ticket confirmation that he’d have his own room. How generous! And Mother Moseley was always bringing one nice lady after another up to him after church to “just say a Sunday hello.”

And then there was Millicent, always there, always trying to help—looking at him, staring as if to read his very soul when she thought he wasn’t looking. He wished she didn’t
feel the way she did about him. Most men would welcome the attention that being Cy Taylor brought, and Cy would gladly give it to them if he could. He’d much rather enjoy quiet anonymity in the background with a lady intelligent enough to carry herself in a manner that invited being pursued. Being hunted brought Cy no pleasure, but being the hunter, now, that was another story indeed! As if thinking about her had conjured her up, Cy looked down at his caller ID and noticed Millicent’s number. It had forwarded from the phone in his church office, and had a 911 after the number she’d entered. No, Cy didn’t like being pursued at all.