by Joy, E. n.
"No. I see you got jokes, too."
"Not really. Just a sense of humor."
"I see," he nodded, swinging his keys in a circular motion real calm.
I could tell he was enjoying his conversation with me. Otherwise, he wouldn't have still been standing there in front of me looking at me the way he was. After all, if his mission was only to evangelize, to get me to come visit his church, he'd already extended the invitation, so his work was done. But then again, perhaps I was reading too much into this. So instead of wondering any further I said, "So, are you married?" I knew the truth, it was obvious of that from his ring, but I wanted to hear it from him. Maybe hearing it would stop the tinge between my thighs.
"Yes," he responded coolly, now looking down at his finger without shame. I thought for certain that opening up dialogue about his wife would put an instant end to our little conversation, but it didn't.
"Are you?" he asked in return.
"Not married. Involved, but right now not involved. If that makes any sense," I tried to explain.
"I see. Which one of you needed space?"
"Without getting into the details, I guess you could say it was me and I had good reason too. We're barely communicating these days." I began airing out my trou- bles about Justin to this stranger.
"You know what would jump start the conversation with him, a word from the Lord. Why don't you ask him to join you tonight?" he suggested, shutting down our carnal conversation and inviting God back in.
"I would love to, but I'm sure he'll say no. He's not saved."
While I was finishing my last word, his cell phone began to vibrate. He adjusted his body to the side to answer in privacy, throwing his pinky finger up, asking me with hand motion to hold a minute.
"Okay. I'm on my way. Love you, too," he mouthed to the caller caringly. He then ended his call and retrieved a business card from his wallet. "Here you go. I hope to see you in church tonight. I gotta run. It was nice chatting with you."
"Thanks," I said in return, and stared down at the card as he very sexily walked away.
Duvall Spencer
Armor Bearer to Pastor Wyatt Tabernacle of the Living Word
(410)-555-1212 Cell
That's the moment I found out that not only was
Duval a married man, but also an armor bearer to a pastor. He was a true man of God, which meant I'd be playing with fire if I even thought twice about trying to start up something with him. Nonetheless, I was going to take him up on his offer to attend service that night; just me, though. No Justin.
Although I still had Justin in the wing, knowing that all I had to do was snap my finger and he'd be right there back by my side, Duvall intrigued me. The saved part of me knew Duvall was off limits though, but the hood in me knew that there were no limits.
Chapter Three
All Praise Due
After finding a very modest, yet solid, two color dress in the back of my closet, I strolled into Tabernacle of the Living Word, solo. I was prepared to hear a good word, and of course, to see Duvall. Tabernacle was not what I had envisioned. I thought I'd be walking into a little mom and pop small church home, when in fact it was just the opposite. It was rather large and full of younger members. I mean, members my age, 28 years young members, unlike Cousin Angie's church which was full of old church mothers. But this church, just like most, was mainly full of women. And those that were with a man were kneeled down praying side by side with them. How sweet? I thought, a bit envious. Maybe that's what I had needed in my life, a praying man instead of a straying man like Justin.
There wasn't any praise and worship going on to jumpstart the members for the service. Most of the members were on the red carpeted floor on their knees in some serious prayer.
Okay, I thought, they are not playing.
Leading me in was a rough looking, overweight, too tight white usher uniform wearing Hispanic woman. "Dis' way, pleaze," she motioned me.
That's odd, I thought. A Hispanic usher? It just validated their diversity. Not that common in a black com- munity church. And, it was full of black folk, too. And they were on time at that.
I was waiting for the piano player to strike a chord and cause some of the members to jump up in praise. It didn't happen though. The only sounds I heard were that of prayer murmuring throughout the sanctuary.
I was escorted to the second level, on the third row, seating. Two bad little boys were racing cars in the aisle while their mother prayed, which was a true distraction for others, especially me.
I didn't want to look that obvious searching around the mahogany beams over peoples' heads for Duvall, so I humbly submitted myself in prayer.
About fifteen minutes later, prayer was ended with a solo performance by a choir member draped in her purple and gold trimmed robe. She was tall, had shoulder length hair, and was a bit pale, with light make-up. But she was very pretty. I heard someone in the pews yell, "Sing, Avoria, sing!" That was an understatement. This Avoria chick could sing along side of Whitney any day.
Feeling the presence of the Lord, I threw my hands up - spread wide to receive Him. As if nobody else was in the same area, Duvall slowly approached me.
"I'm glad you could make it," he whispered. His voice was soft and subtle, double mint gum filled; smooth even, as was his black dress slacks that showed more mid-section than they should have at church.
I smiled faintly saying, "Thank you," and asked God to forgive me for my ungodly thoughts.
Duvall acknowledged me and kindly walked away to greet other guests.
For a brief moment, I felt a tinge of guilt. Here I was, sitting in the house of the Lord, lusting for a married leader that I had just met only hours ago, acting border- line stalkish. I glanced around the church and clutched my purse, easing my way quietly to the aisle to leave before I tried to pursue Duvall and not God.
Finding my way to the vestibule, I closed my eyes tightly, trying to pray away my ill thinking. Unparallel to the steps leading to the main floor, I almost landed face down had Duvall not caught me. We ended up breasts to chest as I clutched onto him in fear of falling.
Even though I was so embarrassed, his body was firm and his grip felt so good to me.
"Going somewhere?" he smiled, helping me manage my balance.
"I guess I would've had you not caught me," I said, straightening myself out.
It didn't seem to matter that others had seen us brandished together. Not that we were doing anything wrong, but it was odd and out of place. I couldn't help but wonder if he always treated strange women like this, or was I an exception?
"Let me help you to another seat; one that doesn't require the use of steps," he taunted.
I had to chuckle back at him.
Instead of going back upstairs, Duvall led me to an empty seat down on the first level so that I could hear the main attraction, Pastor Wyatt.
Sitting on the last seat of the pew, I couldn't believe that so many young people were in church on a Saturday evening. And they say we are the unchurched generation. I beg to differ. Times in the world were really changing, and so were the faces of Christians.
We went through all of the procedural things: greeting, church announcements, and of course, welcoming new visitors. I could see Duvall settled in the pulpit, positioned side-by-side with Pastor Wyatt, in front of the choir box. When visitors were asked to stand, I slowly arose from my seat and gave a few words. I appeared to be the only visitor that evening.
"Praise the Lord. My name is Semora. I've been saved for a couple of years now. I've had my ups and downs, but I'm still holding on and I'm looking for a good church home. I was invited by a member of this church, so I decided to check you out."
"Praise God! Well, welcome Sem-me-ora," Pastor Wyatt stood up and said, destroying my name. "One of the ushers, hand this young lady a visitor's card. We want her to return with that beautiful spirit."
Duvall was nodding his head in my direction, proud that he had led me to his church, as if
he gained points with God for doing so.
Before the choir made another selection, Duvall led the church in a powerful prayer.
"Lord, bless those who came out to church tonight. Bless the newcomers and allow them to feel welcome in your house. Bless those that wanted to attend, but didn't have the means, and those that are sick and shut-in and can't attend. Open our hearts, Lord. Take away the strife, the evil thoughts and by all means, Lord, forgive us for our shortcomings. Bestow your mercy and grace upon our souls. Help us to accept the things we can't change, but most of all, remind us that the power of change begins within."
My body quivered as Duvall stood so tall and obedi- ent, humbly serving the Lord and asking God to bless us all. I was in awe at how God seemed to just be speaking through this man. Oh, Lawd, I knew this handsome, strong, black man amounted to one word for me - trouble.
Once Duvall finished praying, the choir sang another selection with Avoria as the lead. After that, Pastor Wyatt got up to preach.
"My God, my God. My baby girl can sing, can't she?" he said as he turned and smiled at Avoria. "Sometimes I believe Avoria missed her calling as a professional gospel singer. But I'm going to believe God for making that transition in her life, if that is His will. Amen?"
"Amen," members agreed.
Pastor Wyatt smiled with a badge of honor. "I'm a blessed man to have an angel for a daughter." He then tapped Duvall on his shoulder. "Son-in-law, you're a blessed man to have such a virtuous woman. Amen?"
"Amen," Duvall agreed.
My eyes almost purged out of their sockets. This beautiful songstress, Avoria, was Duvall's wife.
"Alright, Saints, let's get down to our Father's busi- ness," Pastor Wyatt said. "Open your Bibles to--" Pastor Wyatt began his sermon on 'New Levels, Bring New Devils'.
About an hour later, when the altar call was made, I was in tears crying out to God to restore my faith in Him and to help me wrestle off my temptation. And He did... for the moment.
Chapter Four
I say Yes, Lord!
I'd shown my commitment to Tabernacle for five weeks straight and my commitment didn't go unnoticed. Pastor Wyatt genially asked me if I was interested in joining the church. Earnestly, I said, "Yes."
Quite frankly, there was nothing really to think about. The members were warm and receiving to me each time I attended service. Duvall, too, was very kind, and a total gentleman at first.
For the short time I had been attending I had man- aged to mingle with Avoria on a few occasions. I had noticed how everyone treated her holier than thou. I had to admit, though, she was sweet. She was also a little tedious at times, so I could easily see how, if he ever chose to, Duvall could decide to step out on her. Turns out, Avoria was like the poster child of Tabernacle, because mostly all the events were centered on her like they needed her presence in order to draw in a crowd: definitely a catered to woman, but it wasn't her who had drawn me in. It was her husband.
After joining the church, I supplied the church with all of my contact information, my ministry gifts and interest as well as any prayer requests or counseling issues I might have had. A part of me hoped that Duvall would seek out my contact information and just call me up out of the blue one day. But it was clear by the way Avoria doted over her husband, that they had the ideal marriage; and they did from the outside looking in. They shared a nice home on an acre of land, two nice cars, good jobs and they were both well respected. It caused me to wonder if Duvall would take a chance at losing all of that for me.
It didn't take me long to find out.
***
While Justin was still leaving eighty thousand messages for me on my home and cellular voice mail, I was deleting every one of them. If I let up, I'd fall right back into little man's trap. So, I continued to play hard to get, when Lord knows, I really wanted my man back. And I can honestly say that I didn't know if I wanted him back because of the love I still carried for him, or if it was just to keep me from committing adultery with another woman's husband.
On the same token, my situation with Justin hadn't really bothered me as much, seeing as though Duvall was now on my mind. I felt troubled, but not convicted, that I was attending church and lusting over him, although I never made any advances toward him. But I did catch him giving me that double take on a time or two when I stepped up into the sanctuary looking fly. And my granny used to always tell me that it was that second look that could get a man in trouble. "It's honest if a man checks you out," she would say. "That's natural. But if he takes his eyes off of you and they find their way back, watch out!"
It was noticeable that Duvall was gazing through lust. No matter how many times he tried to make it seem innocent, I knew he wanted this fine-looking, five foot seven, stacked and curvaceous trimmed, caramel almond covered body. Saved or not, there was no halo around either one of our heads. We were still human.
A couple of weeks after I had joined Tabernacle, I was at home minding my own business, curled up on my couch sipping a piping hot cup of hot chocolate. I was waiting for the commercials to end so that I could catch the most gripping part of a movie I had been watching on the Oxygen channel. My doorbell sounded and I figured it was Justin. On a couple of occasions he had dropped by unannounced, where I had left him right out there on my doorstep knocking.
"Go away," I called out. "Showing up unannounced isn't going to get you anywhere. When I'm ready to talk, you'll know it. Now scram!"
"Semora? It's me."
I could slightly hear my name being called, and it didn't sound like Justin unless he was trying to disguise his voice.
Barely clothed, I approached the door and asked, "Who is it?"
"Uh... it's... uh... It's, Du-Duvall," he stuttered with uncertainty.
Duvall? I was shocked! Had my prayer of his contact- ing me out of the blue manifested itself? No, couldn't be. God wouldn't bring temptation to my doorstep would He? I mean, of all the prayers to be answered.
I looked down at my long pajama shirt and bare feet and knew that I should at least go grab a robe, but in all of my excitement and anticipation, I opted not to. I unlocked the top lock and slowly peeked with my head between the door and him.
"Hey, you," I said in a surprised tone. "I wasn't expecting it to be you, not that I was expecting anybody at all." Now I was the one stammering. "It's just that well, you know."
He slightly pushed the door and stepped inside, greeting me with a kiss on the cheek. That was indisputably a new form of him welcoming me.
Well, all right! I thought.
"I had to drop off a couple of knuckleheads from the young men's mentor program who were at Bible study tonight. One of them lives in your neck of the woods, so I decided to surprise you with a visit. Speaking of Bible study, I didn't see you there tonight."
I continued in my comfort zone by relaxing on my sofa. "One of my night auditors called off and there was only two store clerks working, so I had to close the store down." There was a high turnover of young staff at the discount store I worked at, so on any given scheduled day off, I was subject to be called in since I was the store manager.
Instead of taking the initiative to sit down beside me, Duvall stood waiting for me to ask him to be seated.
"I'm sorry. You can have a seat." I scooted over to the middle of the sofa.
"Thanks," he said as he sat down.
"So, besides the fact that you were in my neck of the woods, what brings you here? And if you don't mind me asking, how did you know where I lived?" I asked, feign- ing ignorance to the fact that I knew he was privy to church member information.
He removed his butter leather jacket as he got more relaxed and said, "I read your visitor's card. And, I'm here to see you."
The way his eyes peered into mine caused me to blush. "Mr. Spencer, you are something else."
As Duvall sat next to me, I couldn't help but picture him back at the church sanctuary praying and exalting God like Pastor Wyatt so often had him do. How could I not find th
at attractive? What woman wouldn't?
"Sooo, what are you up too," Duvall said, clapping his hands together and interrupting my vision.
"Oh, I'm good. Just enjoying some me time," I smiled. "Does that mean you want me to leave?" Duvall grabbed his coat.
"Oh, no. I didn't mean it like that. Sometimes my job can be a serious stress factor and I just need to release, but I'm good." My eyes began to roam him and I began to visualize him again, but this time he wasn't in the sanctuary praying or exalting. He was right where he was at, in my living room unbuttoning his button-up then removing his tee shirt.
"Semora, did you hear me?"
"Huh?" His voice suddenly broke my internal fantasy. "I'm sorry, I didn't."
"I said, if I hadn't mentioned it before, I'm glad you joined the church. Your spirit is a wonderful addition."
"Oh yeah, me too. Pastor Wyatt does bring it; just like you told me. I'm sold out."
"To Christ I hope, and not to man?"
I stared into Duvall's eyes for a moment. "Oh, yes, to Christ; not to man." Not Pastor Wyatt anyway.
"But I must admit, Pastor does bring it," he agreed. "But on another note, I need to ask you a question." His body leaned in toward me, invading my personal space.
"Sure," I answered, peaked at what he wanted to know.
"What do you think of me?"
This man had evidently drank an entire bottle of Holy Boldness before coming back to my place, because he was holding back nothing.
I decided to be a little bold in return. "I think you are very attractive in all aspects - your looks, your gift of working with the young men is very anointed, your mannerism - all of that, but I also think that you're a very married man."
He laid back with his head resting on one of my throw pillows, quietly watching me, as if he was digesting every word I had just spoken. He finally spoke after a moment. "Cool. Now that I know what you think of me tell me how you feel about me."
