Teach Me: Sinful Desires (2 page)

Remembering the relaxing exercises from her yoga instructor, she regulated her breathing. All of her muscles softened. In just under a month, she would have new surroundings, a new job, and a fresh start. That was her way to a new adventure. Naiya could never understand how much of a good feeling that was.

Despite her best efforts to resist, sleep came and went. She woke to a dark condo with a painful crick at the base of her neck. Wincing, she rubbed the pinched nerve to ease the discomfort. Destini lowered the leg-rest to the chair, put her glasses back on, and stumbled through her dark condo. She made her way to the bathroom. When the light flickered on, she groaned.
What time was it?
Destini removed her glasses and moved to the sink to put water on her face. She never went to bed without brushing her teeth. Her grooming was part of the strict discipline she’d endured as one of nine daughters to her Jehovah’s Witness parents. She picked up her pink toothbrush and layered it with toothpaste. Her eyes lifted to the mirror and she stopped.

Her hair was all over her head. Naturally thick and curly, she spent an extra hour a day straightening it with flat irons. Tonight it lay like a listless dark shroud on her shoulders. Her eyes were supposedly her best feature. She normally kept them hidden behind the lens her glasses. But her lashes were dark and long and her irises a very deep dark brown. She was dark brown in skin tone; the darkest girl in the Sanders family. Her mother was so fair that many pondered her ethnicity. Her father was a dark ebony man with stern yet strong Nubian features. Destini had a strange mix of them both. Her nose was full like her father’s; her mouth was supple and pouty like her mother’s. She had her mother’s eyes and height, but her father’s righteous high cheekbones, skin color and proud face. She could never decide if she was pretty—never decide if she was anything more than Destini Sanders, the sixth daughter of nine children and an overworked schoolteacher. That was until she found Rain.

She began to brush each tooth meticulously. She gurgled and spit in the sink, letting the tap run her sudsy spew down the drain. She washed her face and tied down her hair under a pink-checkered scarf. Russell said she was frigid, cold, too much work.

Maybe it’s true, Destini. After all, he was your boyfriend. Who better to know if you have any warmth than the guy you’ve been sleeping with for the past two years?

Destini cringed. What did she know of desires but what she had left of her failed fantasies? What did it matter at thirty-two? This was her life and she was content to live it as-is.

Two

“Excuse me ma’am, would you like to order
now?”

Destini’s focus returned from the nothingness of open space where she stared at no one in particular, lost in thought—thoughts of Russell, which would now consume her afternoon. She’d seen him. She was sure of it.

“Ma’am?”

She glanced up at her waiter, a lean, sinewy man with a beak-like nose, receding hairline, and eyes situated too close together under bushy brows. He regarded her with unmasked annoyance, tapping a sharpened pencil against his tiny notepad.

“Another ten minutes… please?” she begged of him.

She did it again, apologized for someone else’s frustration. A nasty habit of hers that Naiya had said was so limiting and Russell told her was pathetic. If it were Rain sitting there, she’d tell Poindexter where to stick that pencil. Then she would have him eating out of her hands in the next breath.

Clearing her throat, she straightened the backbone she rarely used. She decided to address the situation directly. “It’s evident you can’t function unless you’re serving. Bring two orders of the chicken salad and a dirty martini.”

The waiter’s lips pursed together until wrinkles formed and spread from the corners of his mouth. Destini held his glare, even though her instinct was to look away. He gave a curt nod and stalked off.

Proud, Destini relaxed. Small victories were still victories, especially in the wake of a recent defeat. Earlier that afternoon she’d seen her ex-lover, Russell Dumont, and ducked into a flower shop to avoid passing him. Seeing him and having to make small conversation, so soon after their breakup, would have been awkward. She did what she did best. She hid.

Keep telling yourself that, Destini. A grown woman stuffed between plants trying to hide from her ex-boyfriend is pathetic. You should have met him on the street and kicked that jerk in the nuts.

Feeling self-conscious and woefully out of control, she rearranged the silverware: forks to the left near her thrice-folded cloth napkin, and her knife and spoon to the right. She even sprinkled salt onto the thin white paper napkin so no moisture soaked through to the table. It wasn’t until her place setting was neat, pristine, and in order that she was able to relax, if only a little.

She returned her focus to the large window that faced the bustling business district. One thing she wouldn’t miss was Russell, the city, and the new unexplained feeling of restlessness that sometimes haunted her in those lonely quiet moments.

Naiya stomped her way through the maze of tables, hips switching in her posh lavender Chanel suit. Naiya had a secret that was only speculated on by her expensive wardrobe, fancy car, and million-dollar condo. A bored trust-fund baby who’d rather spend her day with school kids than at the country club with her six other adopted brothers and sisters. Adopted by a rich white philanthropist and his wife when she was two out of foster-care her parents through money at her like it was confetti to spoil her. It was something she and Naiya never truly acknowledge but puzzled Destini often. 

“Gurl! Traffic was a bitch.” Destini nearly jumped from her skin. She gave a nervous smile when others turned at her friend’s approach.

“I ordered,” Destini whispered as Naiya arrived at the table in a flurry of purse dropping and mumbled curse words. She hoped her lowered voice would force Naiya to do the same.

Naiya rolled her eyes. She scooted her chair noisily in close to the table. Her copper bracelets jangled from her wrists. “Well damn, Dez. Why do you do that? Bet you ordered a salad too.”

Destini blanched. “Sorry, I thought––”

“You know I love you, but can you please eat your bird food alone? I’m a meat-and-potatoes girl. What if I wanted the patty melt today? Girl, look at these place settings, did you do this. You did do this! We aren’t dining at the Taj Mahal.”

“The patty melt is not on the menu anymore,” Destini chuckled, ignoring the dig.

“No?” Naiya grinned. Several ladies shot them disapproving glances. Those closest cut their eyes when Destini tried to give an apologetic smile. Naiya remained oblivious. She exuded so much confidence that if she caught the stares she would take it as flattery, attributing it to her charm and good looks. It’s one of the reasons Destini loved her so much; she felt bolder and more daring with her friend, invisible when she wasn’t near.

“So, I’m missing Carson barking and throwing his weight around today, huh?” Naiya asked. She frowned at the martini the waiter delivered. “I’ll have a vodka tonic.”

The server’s nose creased. He made a wet smacking noise in distaste as his gaze traveled over her, to which Naiya narrowed hers. “Just bring me the goddamn drink minus the attitude, okay?”

He switched off.

“What the hell is his problem? You better not tip him,” Naiya grumbled.

Destini checked her watch. Naiya was right. Carson was on the warpath, and her giving notice only made her his moving target. He announced in the staff meeting this morning that she’d have to take on the Media Center as well as her class load now, since Ms. Daniels was out with the flu. That translated to spending her last two weeks at Wellington Elementary School inventorying all the new books according to the Dewey Decimal System.

“Hello? You there?” Naiya waved her hand in Destini’s face.

She forced a smile and nodded.

“The real question is, why would you blow off another teacher work day when you know how important these planning days are?”

Naiya shrugged. “Something
more
important came up. Something I did for you. It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Destini asked.

“You won’t believe this.” Naiya reached for her purse. Curious, Destini watched as her friend dug deep to remove a folded piece of paper. It was then passed over the table to her like a secret note in class. “Check this out!”

Destini opened it. At first, she thought it was a printed email. On closer inspection, she found it to be a printed Evite.

You are cordially invited to:

“Let’s make it Rain: Time to let the good girl freak flag fly.”

To her astonishment, three of her latest novels were listed below. “What’s this?”

“Destini, there are events just like this one popping up everywhere. Reading circles. There are women of all races coming together to have ‘passion’ parties and read excerpts from your books.” She formed air quotes for emphasis.

Destini beamed a big smile. No one but Naiya, her publisher, and a few in her publishing house knew who she was. To the erotic subculture, she was simply Rain. And her stories of Rain’s escapades could turn a gay man straight, or so the blogging community said.

“Wow… just wow. And you got an email for it?” Destini asked.

“Girl, I got three different emails. I’m telling you. This stuff is hot right now. It’s spreading everywhere. Everywhere!” Naiya nodded for her to check the second and third page. She did and covered her mouth to keep from giggling. Her friend winked. It was all so wicked! She had crossed over. When, she didn’t know, but she had.

“Rumor has it that your character, Rain, is going to be in some leg splitting, throw down, coochie screaming, sheeeeit in the next book only to find out that her lover is her old boss from the department store she worked at.”

“Hey? Nai!” Destini hushed her.

Naiya laughed, accepting her drink with the arrival of their salads. Destini shook her head. “Forward me the emails. I want to show them to my editor. This is really cool. Doesn’t quite pay the bills yet but––”

“That’s because you won’t go public. If you take this mainstream, you’d be the hottest thing on the shelves instead of this e-book stuff. Your books really are that good. Hell, even I got my own private stash to take notes from on my iPhone. Though I might have to collect royalties soon from you for that scene with Rain backstage at that comedy show.”

“That wasn’t you,” Destini smiled.

“Mmmhmm.”

“So is this your secret project? Why would you miss work to show me this?” Destini asked. Her friend could afford to quit if she wanted too. But Naiya took her job seriously.

Naiya ate hurriedly. Ranch dressing dripped on her chin as she chewed a mouth full of chicken cutlets and spinach salad. For someone so beautiful, pampered, desired she was amazingly unrefined. It was all an act and it was silly. Destini shook her head. Naiya drank her water and then her vodka, avoiding the question. Her gaze shifted to the window and the street beyond, then finally returned to Destini. She sat back and swallowed. With a dab to the side of her mouth, she batted her lashes and put on that innocent look that Destini knew meant trouble.

“What did you do?” Destini pressed.

“I met with the book club president of these little events. I booked you.” Naiya said.

“You did WHAT?” she gasped.

As heads turned, Destini closed her mouth but didn’t blink. Her eyes remained wide with shock, betrayal, and mounting anger. She narrowed them and leaned forward. “No you did
not
!”

“I did,” Naiya said.

“Why?”

“You know why,” she replied.

“You had no right to do that. Did you give them my name? Tell them about me? If the school––”

“No, no, no. I just said that you would come and do a reading. It’s causing all kinds of press. The party attendance grew from fifteen to three-hundred overnight. Dez, they want to know who you are. It’s time for you to follow your dream.”

“I am following my dream. I’m going to Gaylor Prep.” Destini reminded her.

“I knew it. It’s gotten worse since Russell. This thing with you hiding behind that laptop. He was a pompous jerk and not worth this.”

“Here we go.”

“Destini, listen to me. You’re talented. People would pay to meet and learn from you. It’s time.”

“No, you listen. My timetable is mine! You don’t tell me what to do and how to do it. How dare you go against my wishes like this? You’ve gone too far.” She threw her napkin up on the table and went for her wallet in her purse. “For the record, it has nothing to do with Russell. I was writing before I knew him, before I knew you. I know what my dreams are, Naiya. If you were a friend, you wouldn’t try to measure them. To hell with this, take your own advice and focus on your own insecurities! We both know you got them.”

“What are you doing?” Naiya asked.

“Leaving. I have to get back to work. Don’t have a trust fund to fall back on to pay the bills.”

“Shit! That hurt girl. Dez, please don’t go. I’m sorry. I went about this wrong.”

Destini’s chest tightened. A flood of emotions hit her at once, threatening to take her under. Her mother’s disapproval, Russell’s disgust, her boss’s censure… all of it at once.

“Enjoy your lunch.” She scrambled to get out before the tears came.

“Sit down,” Naiya begged. “Sit down, or I’ll make a scene. You know I will.”

Destini cut her eyes but sat back down. Naiya leaned in, her voice low and her gaze apologetic. “Okay, I went too far. I should have cleared it with you, but for once will you get over what people think and look at what you’ve done. What you created.”

“I could lose my job!” Destini told her.

“You could lose your soul by going to Gaylor Prep,” Naiya tossed back at her.

“Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“I’m serious, Dez. Something has to shake you up. Wake you up. I thought finally dumping that loser Russell would do it. I thought you were getting stronger.”

“Back off, Naiya.”