by Belvin, Love
Lex
“Okay. So now that we have your work attire knocked out, we can focus on your casual wear. I still can’t believe you’re a size 10-12!” Elle gasped with wide eyes.
I nodded, less enthused. “Yup, I am. It’s because of my extreme height. People think I’m small, but I’m really not. I pack a lot in these damn near six feet.”
“Wow! I mean…damn!” she continued to appraise, approvingly. “By no means am I a fashion designer, and I guess that’s why I’m blown away. I love your height! You’re tall enough to grab attention, yet short enough to fit underneath your man,” she enunciated sensually. Then her eyes fell and she looked the other way as she rubbed her neck, blushingly.
I laughed. “It’s okay, Elle,” I assured as I tried catching my breath.
Today was my first time meeting her. Ezra was so insistent on paying for a new wardrobe to fill my side of his closet. I didn’t feel comfortable with it, but he convinced me by saying it was his way of congratulating me on my new job, considering I’d searched so diligently for one. I didn’t totally buy his sentiment, but did agree to it.
Apparently it was perfect timing. According to her, Elle had just moved back to New York. She’d been in L.A. for the whole summer on business. We’d been at it since this morning with a long ass sit down to discuss my style preferences. We’d had quite a few mimosas and had even been sipping on bubbly here at a boutique, just off of Fifth Ave, that she found fit my style. I’d never had one-on-one style services before. It was actually odd, considering she was a public relations rep. I wondered how Ezra was able to pull this off. The resources this man had boggled my mind.
When I was done with my cackle at her silent inquisition, I supplied, “He’s very human…in a carnal sense,” I tried throwing her a bone.
Elle’s eyes popped out of her head. “Really? I mean…I grew up in church all my life and never did anyone whisper a word about sexuality. It was as if the shit was forbidden, which is why I never looked at ministers as an option. Not to mention those in my church was old as fuck.” She got lost in her thought, gazing into the distance as we waited on my selections to be pulled from the back storage area. “I still don’t think I can imagine that from Ezra. I’ve been seeing him for a few weeks now.”
“Well, that’s good!” I winked. “Then I have no worries.” I partially joked. Elle was gorgeous, mixed with something. I didn’t know if she was involved; she didn’t wear a wedding band. My recent insecurities regarding Ezra hadn’t slowed, especially since we’d been attending RSfALC and I’d gotten a dose of how women responded to him. Elle cracked a modest smile. “Nah. But with Ezra, his sexuality is…extremely…rare”—I hesitated, not knowing how to explain it—“but positively clear.” I winked again. “But counseling. Is that how you know him?” I was glad to be getting answers regarding my enigmatic husband.
“Mmmm…hmmm.” She nodded. “Almost as soon as I got settled into my new place, I reached out to him for counseling. He said he’d cut back, but that he’d carve out some time because of our mutual affiliations. I think he was just being nice, though.”
“Nice?” I peaked a brow.
“Yeah. We had a few words in passing last spring. He said some things to me that could have only come from God himself. I was so…fucked up at the time, swimming in some shit…” Elle’s eyes turned uneasy, sweeping the floor. “I was almost embarrassed and definitely in denial for a few months after. It didn’t click until I was out in L.A.—like I told you earlier—and his words came back to me and slapped me in the face. I needed to…get myself together.” Then her eyes appeared again. “And that’s what I’m doing. I believe what you say about him being a normal guy when it comes down to sex, because the man drips swag in his style alone. I noticed his fashion sense the first time I saw him. But you don’t have to worry about me seeing him as anything more. He’s really good at what he does…never passing judgment or resembling what I know of church leaders. I’ve even been visiting your church. I’m thinking about joining.”
“For real?” I asked, surprised that the man I share a bed with could be so influential to this stylish diva I’d been hopping in and out of stores with all day.
“Yeah. It’s time. I’ve been running from my spiritual beliefs for so long. And Ezra’s dope with his sermons. I’ve been at a Sunday service and Bible study.” I nodded in agreement of Ezra’s messages. They were delivered with substance, eloquence and simplicity, so unlike his father’s. Then Elle’s amber eyes slanted. “But shoot! Pastor Carmichael need to be concerned about you!” she provided with passion. “I’ve seen how sexually aggressive men can be with a woman of your height and frame.”
“Girl, I can remember when it started. The moment I was done with puberty, it was like a damn curse. I hated the attention! Then again, I hated the teasing from before it when I was a long pole with no curves or hair. That was a nightmare.” I rolled my eyes.
“It was worth it.” She smiled wryly. “You’re a Nubian beauty, Lex. I can see why he’s drawn to you, well, men in general.” Her eyes were sincere as the compliment jarred me.
Me? A Nubian beauty? Get the fuck outta here! I mean, I didn’t think I was ugly, but Elle was…
Her phone rang in her hand. I noticed as her eyes lit up at the caller I.D.
“Hang on.” She couldn’t fight a giddy smile. “I gotta take this.” She stood from the small suede bench we shared and stepped away for privacy. “Hey…,” she sang into the phone en route.
Elle’s fit posture had changed that quickly. She maintained a poise that told she was aware of her feminine qualities, but now off to take her call, she was…soft. Her hand went to her neck again, rubbing the muscles more tensely than she did with me earlier. There was no doubt in my mind that the caller was a man—her lover. It made me unusually curious as to who he could be. Elle packed a lot of feminine allure in her little frame. She appeared high maintenance. Like…really. When I met her at the bar at DiFillippo’s, I swallowed hard, afraid I’d be spending the day with an ethnically ambiguous, bourgeois beauty. But when she opened her mouth, she was completely eager, open, and engaging.
To be honest, a pang of jealousy zapped me when she revealed she’d spent time with Ezra. She was gorgeous and not even Mister Morally Superior could ignore her exotic features. Don’t get me wrong, I was over the light skinned girls are prettier than darker ones. That was some shit I struggled with as a child. I was also over women like her with blonde-stained, silkier coils in her natural mane being more appealing than those like my coarse, natural dark brown, wooly—as Ezra referred to my hair—texture. It didn’t bother me that Elle’s light eyes sparkled unlike my dimmer pupils. But when you add her undeniable fashion sense and striking feminine posture, it was hard to not be affected.
So when she sincerely declared my beauty and got so caught up in a call from an apparent man, so much so that her neck massage dropped lower and lower to the point of exposing a glaring purple-reddish bruise on her pale shoulder, it gave me more confidence that she hadn’t received it from my husband. It also was made clear that Elle was affected by the love bug. As corny as it sounded, she had to be. I mean, Ezra fucked the shit out of me, totally banishing the desire for another man past his death, and I didn’t liquidate like that when he called.
Because he wouldn’t have it.
The door sounded and I turned in the empty boutique to find a man dressed in a courier uniform entering.
“Elle Jarreau?” he asked loudly with no finesse whatsoever.
“Jackson!” Elle gasped. “No, you didn’t!”
Yup! It was definitely the man she’d turned mushy for in seconds flat when his name appeared on her phone. Her smile was gooey and helpless as she signed for the huge bouquet of flowers that were just as exotic as her features.
Hmmmmm…
I watched as she smelled the flowers, her eyes rolling contently to the back of her head as she held her cell clutched to her shoulder. Elle’s smile held hard and lon
g.
I took a long gulp of my champagne. Must be nice, being in love…
My thoughts went to Lilly, who smiled similarly and whose voice turned completely soprano when she spoke of big Thad. They were feeling things about these men, for these men. Was I not feeling the same way about Ezra? That thought gave me pause because I damn sure had been feeling things…giddy, girly things about my husband. Things I believed were inappropriate to the terms we’d agreed to when we wedded.
“Okay,” Minnie, the shop owner breathed as she and her assistant marched toward us holding mountains of our selections. “I think we have everything. Now, let’s pray they fit well. If not, we can tailor most of them,” she strained en route.
“Angel, I have to go!” Elle whined into the phone like a real baby, behind me at the counter where her face was still buried in the vase of flowers. “I’m with Mrs. Carmichael… Yes, his wife. She’s easy because she’s gorgeous and built well. This feels like a spa day to me.” She giggled. “Okay. Now, bye! You better believe it…seven-thirty sharp.”
She ended the call and took a deep breath, trying to snap out of her gooeyness and back to business. She stood straight, hardening her posture and strutted over to me in her tall brown Givenchy layered boots, exposing her light, toned thighs under a pleated mini skirt, paired with a blouse and suede cropped jacket.
“Great,” she sighed, “Let’s start with those Erika Erceg denims, Lex. I think they’d fit those lovely hips well. You know, they were designed for women of your curvy stature specifically?”
I stood, preparing to strip for sizing, and shook my head. “No. I didn’t.”
“Yup. They’re not too pricey, which I’m sure you’ll love, but they have an exclusive quality that your husband demanded when he reached out to me. He can be such a divo, that pastor,” she remarked, twisting her thin lips.
“Yeah.” I rolled my eyes and sighed. “More than you know.” I shook my head as I made my way over to the small dressing room.
It was just after six when I closed the door to the house. My hands were filled with brown paper shopping bags. I had several more in the car I couldn’t manage in one trip. I sighed at the fact of there being more coming because I left some behind for altering. The house was quiet and lights turned down. I’d spoken to Ms. Remah just before I started for home and she told me she was taking her meds and turning in early, so I knew I wouldn’t be seeing her this evening.
Ezra, on the other hand, was likely in his office reading or working. I didn’t know if he was home for sure because I didn’t park in the garage. One thing was for sure, I’d be talking to him about the digits he blew today. The women didn’t talk numbers to me until all was packed and ready to go. Six thousand, eight hundred, thirty-two dollars, and seventy-eight cents worth of clothes in one day. Goddamn! I can’t believe I’m even thinking this. Couldn’t believe that’s how much he’d spent on me today—and that was under budget! Elle slipped and said he’d asked to be topped off at eighty-five hundred!
What the holy fuck!
My limbs were tired from trying on so many clothes and straining to keep still for measuring. Shopping was a damn job. I would be good for years to come with what I’d gotten today. I would think about how I’d say thank you during my bath. I couldn’t wait to drop these bags in the closet and head straight for the bathroom. As I trudged up the stairs, I thought about what I’d wear tomorrow, my first day of work. I didn’t want anything too fancy. Didn’t want to give off the wrong impression. Besides, folks in social work should really dress the part of the people they’re servicing. We shouldn’t appear unreachable. I just wanted to make an impression on Princess Precious, who’d emailed me informing we’d be meeting later in the morning for my first day of orientation.
Ughhhhh!
I headed straight to the closet and released my fists and shook other bag handles from my wrists. I wanted to lay out on the floor similar to the bags. But I forced myself out and into the bedroom to start undressing. That’s when I noticed a big ass purple gift box sitting in the middle of the bed. It was the size of the sitting stools in the closet. I lifted the lid that was lighter in weight than I expected and found a piece of paper on top of long pieces of tissue paper.
You’ve been preoccupied with clothes all day. I’m sure you would appreciate going without for just an evening. Strip and slip into these. They should all fit. Carlos will arrive at exactly seven o’ five to collect you for dinner. Please be prompt.
E.C.
A chill ran up my spine. A romantic gesture from Ezra? I checked my phone and saw I had enough time to shower, at least. Do my legs need shaving? My hair was still bouncing with body. Hopefully it would hold out, especially through a quick shower. Then my attention went back to the big box before me. Inside were a pair of cream leather, over-the-knee boots. I knew we were days into autumn, but damn! Ezra and Elle had the same mind for boots already. It was cooler out during the evening hours now and the temperature would only drop, so I figured I’d be okay. I dug again and found cobalt blue satin panties and matching bra, with a black garter belt and thigh high stockings. My temperature spiked and sex throbbed at the possibilities.
At the very bottom of the box was a neatly folded tan trench coat—Red Valentino at that—with an A-line cut and metal grommets decorated all over. There was no way I could fit it considering my extreme span of arms. I tried it on and sure enough, it was a perfect fit. I frowned at that discovery. Just like Ezra to be so accurate. I stood at the bed for moments long trying to think of what my husband was up to. When I couldn’t come up with anything I decided it didn’t matter. I was always game for whatever agenda that man presented. That was how I ended up here in his bedroom that we shared together.
After a thorough shower where I shaved my legs, spritzed fragrance where it counted, and added a little makeup to enhance the sensual flair, I was on my way downstairs with just seconds to spare. I sent Ms. Remah a text, letting her know I’d be out with Ezra for dinner and would be setting the house alarm. When I arrived at the front door, I spotted the black SUV waiting next to my F-Type. Carlos was prompt and that only increased my anxiety. After tending to the security system, I clacked down the stone stairs of the front of the house and saw Carlos waiting with the door opened for me.
“Hey, Mrs. C!” he greeted excitedly. “You look great.” Carlos smiled with sincerity.
I guess I did look nice. Instead of tripping off the fact I was damn near naked underneath, I had to consider how the trench coat fit me like a flared dress.
“Thanks, Carlos.”
I stepped high to get into the truck, making a quick work of it. We took off and I watched the day darken as the sun went down on our way into the city. There was little traffic on a Wednesday night in Lower Manhattan. I noticed we didn’t head to Harlem. That struck my interest. We stopped in SoHo, at a new construct. He let me out in front of the metal and blue glass skyscraper with an asymmetrical rooftop. I lost my equilibrium trying to stare at the steep top.
“Whoa there, Mrs. C!” Carlos caught me at the shoulders. “You okay?”
I was a little disoriented from being overly suspicious. “Yeah. Just clumsy,” I muttered as I recovered my balance.
“Good. Hang on…” He whistled sharply, blowing through his thumb and index finger. “Over here, akee!” he called for the concierge.
A Caucasian man with a black suit and patey top hat approached us and bowed shortly at the neck.
“Carmichael…waiting,” Carlos informed cryptically.
The man nodded again. “Mrs. Carmichael, Mr. Carmichael awaits you.” He took me at the arm directing me toward the entrance.
I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Carlos as I stepped cautiously in my new five-inch heels. We entered the pristine lobby laced in brass gold and black suede walls. The dozen or so people we passed were dressed formally, all men in jackets and women in heels. The elevator door opened immediately and I was instructed inside.
“The
host will receive you on the twenty-fifth floor, Mrs. Carmichael.” The man pushed the button, stepped out then tapped the brim of his hat, taking another neck bow.
I caught my reflection on each mirrored wall. My darkly lined, smoky eye makeup with burgundy matte lips spoke of a scandalous agenda, one I had no clue of to say I’d dressed the part.
In seconds, and seeming motionlessly, the doors of the elevator opened to more piano music, but this time dim lighting and delicious aromas from food surged in the air. My spine straightened and shoulders rolled back as I stepped out. I was immediately greeted by a man in a fitted suit. He had dark silky hair and thick black rimmed glasses.
“Mrs. Carmichael, I’m glad you’ve joined us today. Welcome to the Jux Supper Club. Your husband is waiting for you. May I take your coat?” My eyes flew out their sockets at that offer. The man’s thin lips twitched into a knowing grin. “Very well. This way please.”
My heart hammered at a preposterous rate and rhythm now en route to my husband. Butterflies took off in my belly and my brain turned to mush. Was I really expected to show up at a fancy-as-shit restaurant bare underneath this coat? Could my garter belt be seen from behind? Was my makeup too much. I never knew with Ezra. Suddenly, I wanted to run. Like…turn right around and haul ass to the elevator.
Shit!
Carlos is probably gone now.
My feet clacked against the shiny black floors as I followed behind the host, towering his slender frame. I kept my eyes low to be sure to focus on my steps and not be a damn klutz and fall or skid. I could see from my peripheral that most of the tables were private, closed off with tall leather booths and lit by candles. The sounds of the piano filled the room, and out of nowhere a voice could be heard, serenading over the melodies. The sound was soft, subtle not to compete with the chords or overall individual whispers of various conversations going on throughout the palatial circular room enclosed by floor-to-ceiling glass windows.
“Mr. Carmichael,” I heard, cuing my feet to halt. “Mrs. Carmichael joins you.” I could see from the back of his head, the host nodded before stepping back, clearing a path for my viewing pleasure before leaving.
