Sinful Too (13 page)

“Uh, you mentioned providing things I wouldn’t be comfortable doing elsewhere. What kinds of things?”

Without batting an eye Dior reeled off a list of no-no’s most preachers denounced. “Cigars, cognac, strip shows, pornos, whip cream, hot wax, weed, Viagra, or whatever you might need to take the edge off.”

Richard was stunned. Although he hadn’t given thought to using a number of the items on her list, the mere discussion was enticing. “Okay, I’m down with that. Yeah, I’m good with it.”

“A few more things,” she said. Resolve covered her words like sackcloth. “I do for you, you do for me. I will not ask for money. You can contribute what pleases you. However, this is a play-as-you-go arrangement. Start talking to me crazy, it’s done. Put your hands on me, you’re done.” Dior’s twin brother, Dooney, put an ex-boyfriend in a mile of stitches for beating on her. That information was on a need-to-know basis so she kept it to herself for the time being.

“Anything else I should know going in?” he uttered hesitantly.

“Funny you should mention that. My vagina has a constant need for entertainment. If I really dig you, I’ll show out every time you show up. I keep hot, naughty sex on the menu. I like it rough but respectful. I suck and yes, I swallow.” Frozen on the love seat, Richard coughed to clear his throat. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out. “Is there anything you want me to know about you, Richard? Because I don’t do boy-girl-boy and I don’t roll with boys who get down with other boys. I’m up for an occasional girl-on-girl tag team, if I get to choose the girl.” Richard was so excited he almost erupted on Dior’s leather furniture. “If you’re in, say alright then.”

“Amen. I mean, alright then.”

“Good, come over here, sugar, and seal it with a kiss.” Ever so eager, Richard popped off the sofa. He took one step then clutched at his shoe. “Ohhh, it’s a cramp,” he yelped, landing butt-first on the floor. Dior stood over him. She eased off his shoes then began massaging his calf.

“Be still and let me work this kink out. You should probably increase your water and potassium intake. Don’t be looking at me like that. Just ’cause I’ve been stocking inventory all day don’t mean alls I know is pimpin’ clothes.”

“Ooh, that feels good. Uh-huh, you can say that again,” he seconded. “I’ll be okay. Why don’t you go ahead and put your feet in there.” When Richard went to put on his shoe, Dior frowned.

“You could stand some attention on those claws of yours. I think you stabbed me the other day.”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t. Put those in this Soft Soaker 5000.” She moved the bubbling spa closer to him then slid over so he could get at it easier. Richard rolled his pant legs above the water level then lifted his feet over the spa. Suddenly, he squinted apprehensively.

“I’m kind of picky. How many other feet have been in there?”

“How is that important if yours are the only ones in there now? I didn’t stop to ask how many other places your feet have been, did I?” Dior waggled her finger in his face then pressed her point further. “As long as your feet and my tub are both clean, it should not be an issue.”

Richard felt a lump in his throat, somewhat smaller than the one in his pants. “Are we still talking about soaking my feet?”

“Don’t trip, Richard. This discussion was never about your feet.”

Thirteen

Hoochies and Hot Wings

D
uring yet another drive home, Richard replayed the entire evening with Dior several times. The edicts she laid down concerning rules of engagement and the penalties for breaking them paled in comparison to the hot loving she poured on. After massaging, manipulating, and introducing his body to a debilitating brand of sexual discovery, Richard awoke two hours later. His tired eyes found the digital clock. Panic-stricken, he stumbled over an armchair while wrestling on his underwear. Dior grinned sheepishly despite his petrified expression.

At eleven forty-five, Richard jaunted through Dior’s love lair, collecting articles of clothing he’d carelessly flung off when the action started. Dior, nestled beneath wrinkled bedsheets, offered to help find his things but Richard declined. He wanted to remember her the way she was, relaxed and relishing in his affections. Regretfully, he stormed out to the car without locating his expensive timepiece. There’d be other watches if his anniversary gift from Nadeen failed to show up, he reasoned. Since there was no duplicating his initial earth-shattering bout of sensual elation with Dior, he still came out on top.
On top
, he thought,
hmm-hmm-hmm, it ought to be against the law what that woman did to me when she was on top. I know there’s got to be a law against that trick she did upside down. Oh, and the way she arched her back against the headboard, I thought I heard a bone crack. As long as it wasn’t mine, I’m down for doing it again, and again and again.

It wasn’t until Richard rounded the turn onto his street that his mind hinged on the business at hand instead of the work he’d put in across town. What would he tell Nadeen, if she asked where he’d been? Why hadn’t she called his cell phone to investigate? Questions paraded in his head like a high school drill team. So enthralled with finally getting between Dior’s legs, Richard hadn’t prepared an adequate lie or an alibi to get him out of potential trouble with his wife. He took a deep breath then slapped at his pants pockets relentlessly. A loud growl flew from his mouth when realizing he wasn’t only short on principles and plans to conceal his devious behavior. Richard had dashed out of his other woman’s house while his cell phone vibrated relentlessly beneath her bed. Like a condemned man facing the moment of judgment for his crimes, Richard slinked from the garage dragging the weight of his shame and remorse behind him.

Richard feared a knockdown drag-out fight if Nadeen challenged the excuse he was still stitching together, so he tiptoed inside warily. Most of the lights on the first floor were off. Two of the recessed lights in the kitchen dimly illuminated his plight. Nadeen had left his dinner plate covered in aluminum foil on the counter. Richard didn’t pay it any mind. He scouted around in the muted light for a note or something to clue him in on Nadeen’s disposition. He thought it odd when there wasn’t one. Richard began to pray, then he caught himself. God already knew what he’d been involved in and wouldn’t be interested in helping him out of it. Instead, he shut off the recessed lights then climbed the back staircase with a heavy heart.

The bedroom door was wide open. Richard felt like a desperate man prowling in another man’s house. In a disturbing way, he was exactly that. That man — the husband and the father responsible for raising his children, seeing to his wife’s needs, and seeing to the general benefit of the family — had gone out into the night on a personal mission that in no way profited them. Richard, now the stranger in his own home, stared into the faintly lit master bedroom, where Nadeen was fast asleep. She’d awaited his return for hours before calling it a night.

In times past, Richard had been known to work late while seeing to the welfare of the congregation. He spent hours counseling young girls and their parents on abortion and adoption issues when their families were torn apart by an unplanned pregnancy. Richard also prayed all night with the parents of young men who had been locked up by the police or, worse, shot down in the streets. In either case, he always came home afterward, showered and then told Nadeen all about it the following morning. It was difficult to trust him when her phone calls went unanswered for hours on end. Although sharing Richard with others during their time of need came with the territory of being the pastor’s wife, Nadeen didn’t treasure that part of it. The only validation she received was that he’d done the Lord’s work. She went to bed on numerous occasions with that in mind. As far as she knew, she’d been wrong about him only once.

When morning came, Richard looked for the clothes he’d worn the night before to hide them in the bottom of the laundry basket in their roomy walk-in his-and-hers closet. Nadeen must’ve taken them. Richard freaked when he couldn’t remember showering before sharing the bed with Nadeen, after what he did with Dior. His eyes darted back and forth then a thought flashed across his mind. Richard rolled his top lip then sniffed it. His shoulders drooped dramatically when remnants of Dior’s scent filled his nostrils. He had outdone himself.

Richard stepped into the shower, scrubbed at his face and hands until they started to prune. He’d done it. Certainly he’d gone too far. There was no way Nadeen neglected to pick up on his strange behavior and overwhelmingly peculiar aroma, he concluded. Likewise, there was no conceivable reason Nadeen didn’t wake him up with a fist in his mouth. By the time Richard had gotten dressed, nothing about the quiet morning added up. He tried to sort it out while sitting on the stairs, lacing a pair of designer basketball shoes to complement the pricey running suit some thankful parishioners bought for his birthday. He quickly donned a plastic sports watch to avoid potential questions about the one he failed to bring home. Then it hit him: He’d walked off and left his wedding ring at Dior’s house too. Richard sighed as he shrugged off feelings of self-pity and imminent danger.
A man this stupid deserves everything he’s got coming to him
, he thought.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Cowering under the weight of explaining his whereabouts, Richard strolled into the kitchen. He didn’t see Nadeen or her car in the garage. He reached for his cell phone then remembered where he’d left it. Richard raced to the home phone sitting on the counter near the desk nook. He couldn’t think of Nadeen’s cell number so he scrolled the caller ID list. He wasn’t sure if calling her to hasten his punishment was the smartest thing to do. Conversely, he couldn’t afford the luxury of not knowing what he was up against.

“Nadeen? Nadeen?” he said when she answered. “Hey, I woke up and you were gone.”

“Richard, what’s wrong with you?” she said irritably. “I called several times last night, and I left a plate for you. You can’t be out there running yourself ragged without eating. I wanted to change the sheets this morning but you were out cold. It’s been a long time since you slept that hard. Don’t stay so late that you can’t come home and shower when you’re finished. You stunk.”

“Okay” was all he could manage to say. Nadeen was motormouthing as usual so Richard assumed he’d made it through unscathed.

“I’ve been taking your advice. I’m putting in time at the gym. My personal trainer is meeean. I think the attitude costs extra. Uh-oh, here he comes. I’ve got to go. Call me later. Bye.”

Richard hung up the phone, shaking his head.
By the grace of God
, he said to himself. Even a preacher on the take should have readily recognized when God was responsible for pulling the strings on his shiftless cover-up. Pleased by the narrow escape, Richard called Giorgio’s clothing salon from his home phone. Suza answered. She explained that Dior called in to say she’d be running late and then something about picking up his personal belongings after eleven. Apparently, Dior had his back and all bases considered. Even though every little scandalous piece of the puzzle fit perfectly, he was more confused than ever.

The mall was quiet for a Thursday when Richard made his way through the maze of boutiques, gizmo shops, and fast-food walk-ups in the food court. He had a sweet song in his heart and a clear conscience. A chance to see Dior, if only for a minute, rattled that moral compass of his. Reality was a foggy detour when he envisioned her lips on his, their bodies slapping together and a whirlwind of passion in the sheets. She was a break from his everyday, the one he’d longed for and cherished before they met.

When he entered Giorgio’s, Suza looked up from a clothing catalog at the checkout counter. She smiled cordially to keep from laughing. Richard’s grin was more suitable for a small child staring through an ice-cream parlor window. He peered over the store then back at Suza. “Is Dior in? I’m Richard. I spoke with you earlier about something she was holding for me.”

“Sure, Richard, I remember you. Dior is in but she’ll be tied up awhile.” She lowered her head then looked away. The secret she concealed was hard to disguise. Dior was in the manager’s office with Giorgio on one of their frequent
sales meetings.
Suza didn’t have the heart to tell Richard what was being sold behind the locked door. “Here is what she left for you,” she offered instead, handing Richard a small package. Suza’s lips were pursed so tightly it looked as if she’d sucked a lemon. “I’ll be sure to tell Dior you came by, when she’s finished . . . up . . . in . . . the . . . back.” Richard accepted the white envelope, cradled it, and then nodded peculiarly.

“Okay, thanks,” he offered finally. “Thanks a lot.” With a decidedly slower bounce in his step, Richard left the store with his parcel in hand. The encounter didn’t go anything like he’d anticipated. In fact, it was a total letdown. Dior had confided to him that the owner preferred he stayed away and maybe it was for the best. Loitering was bad for business, any business.

Once he’d settled into his car, Richard blew off the lost opportunity to flirt with Dior. He was satisfied with retrieving his watch, wedding ring, and cell phone, which informed him of seven unheard messages. While listening to Nadeen’s from the night before, Richard nodded nonchalantly, blah-blah-blah style. He chuckled at the quirky voice mail message Dior sent, bragging about the physical drubbing she put on him and how her offer to provide a full dose of Viagra was still on the table. She concluded the call with a chorus of steamy moans and groans reminiscent of their erotic episode. Richard replayed the message several times before forcing himself to delete it. The last message Richard retrieved happened to be Phillip’s, reminding him of their monthly meet-and-munch lunch. Somehow it had slipped his mind. Face time with his closest friend was important. Phillip had been a constant, through good and bad times. Richard readily grasped the significance of a sound support system. Phillip had always been a commendable confidant and as good as gold.