When Saint Goes Marching In

by Laveen, Tiana

  “He is taking care of business! He is providing for you and your family. He accepted you for who you are. You don’t have to wait on him while he gives you no patience at all. You don’t ever want to have to work with a grown mothafuckin’ man! He should have stepped to you, ready to go to war!”

  “Yeah!” many cheered.

  “He may not be rich, he may not always say the perfect thing, but he loves you. He’d do anything for you. He is a good father and he loves his family. Traditional roles in the family are not sexist, ladies. They worked and they worked for a reason. When we fucked with it, our families got screwed up, royally. I’m not talking about women working outside of the home; I have no issue with that. Most of you know that my own wife has a public career as well. However, her family comes first and it always has. When that man bust that nut in you, and that seed meets your egg, and you two create life, you have to accommodate that. You can’t make life and have business as usual! That is one of the most serious things you’ll ever do. You can create human beings from this shit! Those human beings need to be nurtured; they need a father…not just a man who jizzed in your pussy. Jizzing is easy! We can jizz in thirty seconds!”

  He paused to take a sip of water from a glass that was set on a stool to the side of the stage.

  “Nurturing that seed is altogether different.” Saint thought about his two sons. “That is what separates the men from the boys. Men’s bodies and sexual connections are just as important as yours yet we are encouraged by society to be promiscuous.” Saint paused as he reflected over his own previous wayward choices.

  “You have a brain. You have desires and needs and you want to be loved. You have overlooked Johnny because Tyrone was the same race as you, even though Johnny over here really liked you and showered you with respect. I don’t give a fuck who doesn’t like this or thinks I’m hatin’ on Black men. This ain’t got shit to do with Black men! This is about you and your future husband, not your future baby daddy!”

  Women leapt out of their chairs and applauded.

  “Fuck a baby daddy! You aren’t here tonight for a baby daddy. You’re here for a damn King, Queens!” More people jumped to their feet and applauded for what seemed like a full minute, then they slowly sat back down.

  “Make him prove he is serious about you. It’s a gift, an honor, to be able to make love with no condom and you shouldn’t just give that to anyone and that goes for men, too. When a man makes love to you, free, with no barriers, he is claiming you! If you let a man claim you, and then he goes away, that leaves your mind, body and soul vulnerable and confused. His body told you he was staying but he fuckin’ left! He lied to you. You let him touch parts of you that are reserved only for your King.

  “He wasn’t a King, he was an imposter! A court jester! A peon! You baptized a mothafucka who didn’t want to be saved and born again! He didn’t deserve to hit those walls raw. You gave him a key to the palace and he didn’t even know your goddamn name. Ladies, you have to step your game up. If he isn’t calling you Queen, and meaning that shit, showing it with his actions, then he can’t cum into the Queendom! Access denied!” More applause erupted.

  “Your pussy is gold. Believe that. Don’t let a man tell you that you aren’t unique, because you are. Some guys will even straight out tell you that your pussy isn’t special, that no pussy is special. Untrue. If that was the case, most men wouldn’t be breaking their neck trying to fuck some new pussy. If it was all the same, we wouldn’t care! No one is exactly like you in the entire world so what does that mean?”

  “I’m, special, damn it!” someone called out.

  Saint’s lips curled up. “That’s right, you’re special. You’re different. You were different by your birth right. By the time you reached sexual maturity, right before that, your body went through an extreme metamorphosis. Your chemistry completely changed. The way you looked, your hips filled out. Your breasts got bigger. Your ass got fatter. Your face became less rounded. You now had hair under your arms and on your legs and had to be taught how to shave. You grew hair on your pussy. The way you fucking walked, talked, tasted and smelled were all different now. A six-year-old girl moves and smells much different than a twenty-one year old young lady. How does a male lion realize a female is in heat? By the way she fucking moves and smells! I’m not talking about an odor; I’m talking about a smell that only a man can pick up, no matter how well you washed your ass.

  “When we are in tune with a woman or interested in a woman we are hunting, we can smell that shit! We may not notice it on a conscious level, but on a deep seated, primitive one, we most certainly do. All of a sudden we are all in your grill!” Laugher echoed throughout the room.

  “This is nature and biology, people. It is hard wiring. It is who we are and there is no changing it. Men don’t just watch what they say around you when you’re on the rag because your hormones have made you crazy and moody. “We also try to be more sensitive because we want you calm, because we are in protect mode.” He walked across the stage. “We are hard-wired, even gay men to some extent, to be breeders, so people, guard your pussy!

  Put the pussy on lock down until someone comes along that shows you that they’re serious.

  “Let’s talk about that bond a bit, which is a form of ownership. Pussy and dick are owned because of the soul connection. There would be none – we’d be just like our animal self, with no human side or spiritual side – without it. That makes us different. This is what separates us from the primates and wolves. We make soul connections and you do own that dick once you’re with a real King, not with a man who is afraid of a title of husband because his ego is so fuckin’ fragile he needs women constantly available to stroke it!” More applause and cheering came at a thundering pitch. “He has to have all this fucking breathing room and an open relationship but you better not think about giving his pussy to another mothafucka, right? I don’t give a shit about all that hippie bullshit about not owning people. I’m not talking about slaves, none of that, I’m talking about a commitment with your body to one another. You can’t own someone’s soul, we only dance with another soul – that soul belongs to our Creator – but you can own their body, in a symbolic and spiritual sense, once you decide to mix DNA with them. It’s all spiritual.

  “Now, with that though, this is not to say that Kings don’t notice other beautiful women. We notice. We have eyes and we’re still men so don’t try to castrate us verbally by getting mad because we still find other women attractive. As long as we are still showing you respect, that’s what matters. Hell, I notice, too…especially this lady three rows over with the gorgeous dreads down to her ass and pushed-up breasts that are begging to have my name tattooed on them, and I love my wife to death!” The audience erupted in laughed; the woman in question turned beet red while cat-calls echoed through the hall. “I’m not blind, now. I saw her as soon as she sat down and so did these other mothafuckas, the guys sitting behind me. Sorry if I embarrassed you.” Saint smiled and waved at the blushing woman who now batted her eyelashes at him.

  “I appreciate looking at women and admiring how lovely you all are but when it’s time to go home, when it’s time to soul connect and to make love, I go to one woman and one woman only…and I do it willingly because she is the only woman I want to be inside of, for the rest of my life.”

  Loud sighs and clapping carried on the air.

  “Communication is key, for a relationship to work. Stop making excuses to validate your own insecurities. You had a brotha who couldn’t fuck right but you still gave more brothas a chance, didn’t you? You had a brotha with a little ass dick, but you still gave more brothas a chance, didn’t you? You had a brotha who didn’t know how to eat that pussy right either, but you still gave another brotha a chance! Same applies here, only a man who loves and adores you will bend over backwards to try to please you and if he can’t fuck right, he’ll learn! Tell him what the fuck you want! Open your goddamn mouth, not just your legs! Stop talking behind his bac
k about how lame he fuckin’ is, and tell him the damn truth, ‘Johnny, I want you to bust my fuckin’ back out and rearrange the way I fuckin’ walk! Let me feel you in my guts, Johnny!’” A good number of women stood up and cheered, laughing and applauding. “Don’t lie there being modest and quiet and then talk about his ass later. That shit isn’t fair. Ask for what you want.

  “That brings me to the next thing – some of you ladies still aren’t sucking dick.” Saint raised his eyebrow, causing everyone to laugh.

  “That’s a problem, ladies.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “Even some men, and they do exist, who don’t really care about getting any head, would still like to know that you’d do it, if they wanted it. I know that some women still are thinking, ‘Oh but that’s so nasty, Saint.’” His voice rose in pitch as he imitated a woman’s voice, which caused some snickering. “No, what’s nasty is letting a mothafucka who doesn’t give a shit about you, up in there.” His tone turned serious. “The inside of your fuckin’ pussy is sacred. A dick is in your mouth, so fuckin’ what!” Saint shouted. His passionate rant was followed by brief silence. “Your mouth is out for everyone to see. There’s nothing private about it. You have to literally open your legs for people to see your pussy; there is a reason for that! It’s sacred. You want to act shy and squeamish about a dick in your face. That’s bullshit!” Saint’s voice echoed.

  “What’s nasty is letting that son of a bitch fuck up your chakras! That is essentially what is happening when you let a random, reckless mothafucka, fuck you. He wasn’t made for you, yet he is inside you. He is fucking up your core! Every damn thrust, every drop of cum, every time he hits those walls, he is changing your entire divine molecular structure. He is tearing you up, emotionally and spiritually, from the inside out. That isn’t how it is supposed to be, ladies.

  “Moral of the story? Worry more about what’s in your pussy than in your mouth. Focus more on what comes out of your mouth!

  “Some of the other speakers spoke about that earlier, about emasculating your King by talking down to him when it isn’t deserved or trying to run him when he’s taking care of the household just fine. Don’t do that shit – you’ll be headed right to court for a divorce. You said you wanted a man, so let him be one. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t even be discussing this. I’d just go on and enjoy my life and say fuck the world. I have to help though; it’s in me to care. You women keep running back to the relationships that fucked up your head because you don’t think you’re worthy. Well I’m here to tell you that you are.”

  Saint brought the crowd to fever pitch. The message was loud and clear, and the mood in that theater was electric. It flowed through him, awakened his passion for the cause, and he lost himself in the moment, like he always did during his rousing speeches. Perhaps that’s what the audience felt, too. Perhaps that’s why James wanted him so much in this role.

  “There has been this misconception that I’ve supposedly said a white man, a Rainbeau man, will treat you better. I’d like for someone to show me where I said that. What I said was, when you allow Rainbeau men the same opportunity to date you as you do Black men, with the same privileges and allowances you give a Black man, you will find that you’re dating more, going out with guys who may be more compatible because now you have a much larger pool of dating options and you will be more satisfied and optimistic about your love life.

  “Some of you have been settling. You settle for a man, just because he is the same race as you, knowing that you have nothing in common with him, simply because you don’t want to be alone. Alone is a gift when you are with Mr. Wrong. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over but expecting different results. You keep dating the same people from the same small pool, repeating history, and then you’re surprised when he is still a loser! He showed you who the fuck he was, believe him!” That really got the crowd riled up.

  “Now, we had a lot of people speak this evening and the night is getting long in the tooth, so I’m going to have to wrap this up,” Saint said.

  The audience booed. “I know, I’m sorry but they’re even reminding me over there, I see the light flashing.” Saint pointed across the stage to a small flashing red light. “I thought I had more time but I’ve enjoyed speaking with you ladies so much, tonight. This totally deviated from what I was going to discuss. I had a nice, neat speech planned out with very little profanity and it was real sweet, all dressed in pink and fancy but you said you wanted the gritty me, so here you have it.” More applause broke out. “I want to leave you with this thought, before I go.”

  Saint coughed and cleared his throat. “If you believe that you’re a diamond, if you know your value, if you know your worth, you are less likely to settle for less. You’ll never question your own price because you’ll know your invaluable.”

  After that powerful statement, he had to wait until the enthusiasm died down.

  “I don’t care what happened to you last week, last night or even this morning or afternoon. Right now, is a brand new start. Some of the speakers already spoke about racism, how to deal with the evil stares, the name calling and all of that. Some of the speakers spoke about how to attract a Rainbeau man and let him know you’re interested, and I briefly discussed the intimacy aspect. I wish I could speak longer about it, because there was so much we haven’t covered…so what that means is that you have to support us and come out to the conference next year. It will be bigger and better, I promise you. I want to dedicate this Queendom Conference to a woman named Valerie. She is the wife of a recently departed friend of ours. I’m going to…”

  “We love you, Saint! Don’t go!” someone yelled out, eliciting a round of laughter.

  Saint smiled. “I’m not, baby. I’ll be sitting right over there.” He winked. “I’m going to take my seat now and I hope to see you all again next year, some of you hopefully married by then to wonderful Rainbeau men. Enjoy your Queendom!”

  Everyone cheered as Saint waved, removed his microphone and sat back down.

  The host went back up to the podium. Saint shook hands with the Speaker next to him then stared down at his shoes as he thought about the late night breakfast that was to take place for the speakers and their spouses.

  “We have a special treat for you all this evening, we have one more speaker. That’s why we had to cut about ten minutes off of Saint’s speech time. This was a bit late notice, but we think this person could really help you ladies with some wisdom.”

  Saint shrugged and went back to his previous thoughts.

  “This person wants to speak to you lovely ladies about her experiences with a Rainbeau, what she went through and where she is today. Without further ado, I present to you, Mrs. Xenia Aknaten, the First Lady! Dr. Saint Aknaten’s beautiful wife! Hail to the Queen!”

  Everyone stood up and cheered as Xenia made her way from the back of the stage, dressed regally in dark, satiny purple. The high collar of her dress reminded one of a vamp’s cloak and the dress hugged her curves so tightly she looked like a mermaid floating across the stage. Her hair was piled up high. It sparkled as if diamonds had cried onto it. Her lips, glossy and clear, glistened even more, looking extra juicy from the bright stage lights.

  Saint sat down and tried to contain his racing pulse.

  The song, “Intuition” by Keri Hilson boomed through the speakers as Xenia smiled under the bright lights.

  How did I miss her? I couldn’t even feel she was here!

  Seeming to know his thoughts, she looked at him and let him see inside her thoughts.

  I love you. I know you’ve been hot on my trail. You’re blocked, sucker!

  She winked at him and blew him a kiss. She was clearly so pleased she had managed to keep her appearance a secret and she knew it required keeping him at arm’s length.

  She learned how to block me. She’s been running from me this whole time. I knew it, Saint thought to himself with a smirk. Touché, my love. I will have to up my game. You won’t get away
with this again. Believe that.

  He winked back at her.

  Xenia turned back around and waited until the audience was reseated. She cleared her throat as she stood behind the podium.

  “As you wonderful women know from the announcement, my name is Xenia Aknaten, I’m Saint’s wife. I’m here as a surprise for him but also as an assistant to all of you throughout your journey. I hope you all enjoyed the knowledge he had to share with you tonight.”

  Wild clapping ensued.

  “Saint is a Rainbeau, my Rainbeau, and I love him. There was a time when I was in your shoes, ladies. I had never dated a Rainbeau before; it was scary, I’ll admit. I actually had never even thought about it. I didn’t feel that I could truly love my culture, and meanwhile date a man who wasn’t Black. Well, I found out that wasn’t true. In fact, it seems I love my culture even more because I can share it with my husband and our children, and I do so proudly, and happily.”

  Saint crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, enjoying the sound of her sweet, slightly raspy voice that always made him think of her in naughty ways.

  “As the media let everyone know, Saint and I dated very briefly before we got married. However, in that time frame, I can honestly say I had more in-depth, profound, real, intense, loving and all around beautiful conversations in that short time span than I had with men I’d dated for years and years. He was an open book. I could ask him anything, as long as he could do the same with me. He was funny, he was loving, he was responsible. I felt safe with him, and that is what I needed. He knew I was scared. I was afraid of what others may say and think, and how they would treat me. My attraction towards him went beyond the physical. He is just a beautiful person all the way around, ladies. He and I talk about anything and everything. We are truly best friends. He is my…personal soldier.