by Belvin, Love
“Christ, Alexis!” bellowed from some feral place inside as I shot my hot seeds into her hungry cavern that swallowed me.
My back arched and body tensed as I released pieces of me blasting into the only receptacle I desired. The one I craved. The one I owned. Alexis’ body was made for me. I felt this down to my tingled toes as I collapsed behind her onto the mattress, unable to utter a word for a spell of time.
I chuckled into the dark around our connected bodies, enveloping us. My shoulders were light, tendons loosened with the heat of her frame burrowed into me. I could smell and, still, taste the musk from her sensual treasure on my lips, mustache and beard.
“What’s so funny?” she murmured with humor in her tenor.
I didn’t know how to answer that. My mood was jovial and how I arrived here should be self-explanatory. But it wasn’t. I’d been under unbearable stress in the ministry and not to mention the awful dream I had two nights ago that involved Alexis. I had been praying for revelation of that dream, but to no avail. I considered reaching out to an old dream interpreter, my grandfather’s assistance pastor during his reign as pastor at RSfALC. Elder Peterson could breathe life into just about any dream or vision. A small part of me was afraid of what I’d learn if I pressed too hard. Especially when I considered what was lying underneath me.
I gripped her at the small of her back, my implausibly greedy eyes scanning her bare frame. Everything about her stirred each cell in my body. I prided myself on not being surprised by people, but my kitten defied that tonight with those seductive dance moves. I got a lap dance from my wife. Of course my mind raced with where she’d learned those moves—the way she arched her back and touched her toes. My god! I chuckled again thinking about Nyree’s warning a couple of weeks ago. Again, no surprises for me. Alexis’ past worked in my favor tonight…and hers. That’s how God works. There was never a day I hadn’t presented thanks to Him for her.
“No. I’ve taken care of you for at least another hour.” Her shunning broke my reverie. More laughter broke from my lips. “Oh, my god! You’re laughing. I must’ve done one hell of a job,” she declared weakly, afraid of being wrong.
“Mouth, kitten,” came out just as weak. As I tried to temper my bubbling humor I licked my lips. That innocuous act stiffened me below. “It’s hard to explain. I thought today would be any ordinary day—albeit a stressful ordinary day, but it turned out to be anything but.” I palmed her rear cheek with crucial possessiveness. Alexis sucked in air in response. “Maybe you should quit your job and come out on the road with me from now on,” I offered, partially kidding.
“Doesn’t work like that in the real world, sir. Life isn’t always customized for your preferences no matter how simple you perceive your wishes to be,” she whispered, tracing figure eights into my chest with the soft pad of her index finger.
My face wrinkled. “That’s mighty philosophical. Care to expound, kitten?”
“You want hot sex on the road; Thaddeus wants a wife to return home to from the road with you, too. It sounds simple, but life’s not that way.”
That topic could have been like ice water doused on my amenable mood in any other instance. However, Alexis managed to disarm me tonight, so I took it in stride.
“This again,” I replied wryly.
“They can have this. You have it. Dwayne and Lucy have it,” she referred to our ravishing copulation. “And it would be the icing on the cake. They already have the other piece to it—the real deal.”
That plucked at a nerve.
Alexis’ voice went from timid to dreamy at the mention of that ‘other real deal piece.’
I snorted, unable to help the bite in my words. “You’re not regressing are you, kitten.” I teased sinisterly. “We’ve already agreed that those ancient mystical emotions people claim to feel for each other are just a man-made fantasy. It’s a manufactured sentiment that gained popularity because of the benign theme of it. Real marriages take work and sacrifice. It takes good management and the establishment of roles and expectations. Nothing more, beloved. Don’t be dismayed.” I planted a kiss on her head to soften the blow.
She was being ridiculous, just when I thought she’d gained her way without training wheels.
She peered up at me with clouded pupils. Alexis was wounded. But why?
“Thaddeus has a lot to learn about marriage before I can take him seriously. His views are impossible, flesh-driven, and skewed.”
“You’re humanly flawed, too,” she whispered into the dark.
“How so, beloved?”
“You have a dangerous obsession.”
“And what is that?”
“This…”
Without the benefit of light, I knew she was referring to our eccentric expression of copulation. I wouldn’t argue that my taste for intercourse was peculiar and offensive to some. I wouldn’t change it if I could. What alarmed me most was my obsession with her. Her scent, taste, trepidation, fear, and touch. It all consumed me. I could easily have Alexis without all the accoutrements of the sandbox and be equally satiated.
I shifted on the mattress to my knees and lifted her in my arms. I moved to plant my feet on the mahogany wooden floor. “Of that, you have no idea.” I kissed her forehead as she cradled in my arms. I could feel the tension in her body, something I was growing accustomed to with her recent mood changes. Alexis was struggling with something, battling internally. It was something I’d been avoiding for months and certainly didn’t want to unearth it now during a major conference. It was enough that I’d allowed her to entice me into breaking my fast. “But now, I want to wash my birthday cake from you, including your hair.”
Alexis groaned, unpleased. “Not my hair!”
“As you’ve overstated tonight, kitten, it’s my birthday. I can call on special allowances.”
“Remind me to never use that line again when I want you to break fasting.”
I chuckled all the way to the shower where we spent the next three hours cleaning ourselves, washing her hair, and cleaning Alexis again from my soiling.
We spent two days in Arizona. The conference was nothing short of epic. Thousands of young people were saved, scores of healings and deliverances had taken place. The workshop I’d presented was attended by over three hundred people. It was organized and effective. Afterward, I stayed behind for a few hours to speak to those who had waited to personally greet me. As a pastor, you grow accustomed to the after party. What surprised me was Alexis staying behind, shadowing Thaddeus and our two security guards. She didn’t speak for the most part, but her eyes stayed glued on me, my hands, every word I spoke, and gesture I made.
The last night I spoke at the conference she remained quiet in our suite. She didn’t attempt sex, which relieved and concerned me. I wanted Alexis to always crave me as I did her. Strangely, she spent a lot of time in the bathroom before we headed out to the coliseum. Her extended time in there didn’t call for my inquisition as she didn’t hold me up. We left out on schedule. From the time I took the stage to the moment I dismounted, the event had been magical. I lost myself inside the power of the Holy Spirit, once again having my words spoken for me and my body moved by His might. It went by in a blur, but at one point I recalled seeing everyone in sight, out of their seats with their arms stretched out and mouths moving with praise. Alexis was in the front row, standing just the same with tears streaming from her eyes with her arms wrapped around her frame. I’d recognized the visual, but didn’t have the faculty to process it.
The one thing I was able to perceive as I ended my closing prayer and walked to the wings of the stage with people praising and dancing all over the place was how during the orchestration of prayer, fasting, and unity my team and I endured the weeks coming up to that time on stage had revealed God’s power. He’d poured out gifts of healing and deliverance, yanking down strongholds that had held people captive for years. The place was so high with praise the atmosphere had shifted to what I suppose heaven must look and so
und like.
Moving through the crowds of speakers and stage handlers back stage, I couldn’t address the shouts, whistles, and greetings of affirmation of my sermon. I was still caught up, beginning to transition to my normal state. Thaddeus coordinated our movements so that I was encapsulated in the center and virtually untouchable until we reached my private room where I could pray with my men. It was ritual and especially needed after experiencing a maelstrom of emotions and spirits while laying hands and preaching. I catch it all when I’m on the pulpit. When I came up from prayer, I saw Alexis in the corner, pensive with wide eyes yet still silent.
We had dinner at a restaurant, away from the conference crowd. While finishing up my food, I decided to power my cellular phone back on. Alexis was with me, so I could be casual with cutting off the world. When my messages loaded the most alarming one was from Precious. She asked that I call her right away about a viral email that had gone to all of RSfALC business wing. Absolutely depleted, I decided to deal with that issue later on, en route home.
We left Arizona that night after dinner. Once we were all settled in on the plane, most sleeping and understandably so, I decided to check my email. Alexis sat across from me, her mouth parted, softly snoring. She’d endured a rigorous few days as well. It forced me to decide that I’d have to actually present her with something appropriate for Valentine’s Day. This had been work for her. So, yeah, I guess I could pretend to be amongst the millions of deceived people who observed this worthless man-made annual tradition. Alexis made me do that; make difficult concessions.
I powered on my Mac and went straight to my RSfALC email inbox, possibilities for the holiday, which was this Sunday, played quietly in the back of my mind. The emails were excessive, over fifty in all. I’d just checked it this morning after my meditation. What struck me was most of them had Alexis’ name in the subject line.
When Alexis Carmichael Used to be Alexis Grier… Things About Your Pastor’s Wife You Should Know.
She worded it with the right amount of pungency. I clicked on the earliest dated one. It was from an anonymous email address, seemingly a dummy account using random numbers, letters and characters in the address. There were several attachments included. The body of the email was a short message.
See the attached for details on the stripper who was gang raped in back of the club. Did you know your pastor’s wife was a stripper? Now you do!
I knew right away who the sender of this email was. My eyes jumped up to Alexis. She was still lost in slumber. I wondered if she knew about this. She couldn’t have. She would have brought it to my attention.
I clicked on the attachments and found historical articles in local newspapers and online articles about Alexis’ savage attack nearly ten years ago, in Rusty’s. There were pictures of the assailants; the primary one was now deceased and it was a good thing, because I’d had enough rage in me to rip his limbs from his torso for what he did to her. I would gladly trade my freedom for that satisfaction. I had no pity for his absence on earth. What was chilling was the pictures of a young Alexis with a bruised face leaving the hospital after the ordeal. The only familiar faces at her side were Ms. Remah’s and Tasche’s. There was no sign of Rasul because he’d been incarcerated at the time. Even that remembrance sent a shot of fury through me. It reminded me of his repellence to my grace.
Nyree had done it. She’d exposed what was likely Alexis’ most private hell. It deeply perplexed me how there was no justifiable cause for Nyree’s ire for Alexis. None at all. I was able to discern this from our conversation. The source of her problem with Alexis was basic jealousy; clearly a deep-seated emotion that brought about Nyree’s antagonism.
I had to do something. I needed to shield Alexis, and the most debilitating feeling was the realization that I could not. The corresponding emails were from countless recipients including, Precious, Ann Bethea, and most notably my father. Nyree had sent this to our entire roster of staff. They’d forwarded to their gossiping buddies and so on. My beloved’s bone-chilling nightmare had been uncovered. She’d never discussed it with me and I was fine with it. It had been a risky task to introduce her to my dark sexuality considering her attack, but Alexis showed no signs of post-traumatic distress. But the mere fact she hadn’t mentioned it in all this time, revealed her emotional attachment to the event. She hadn’t trusted me enough to share it. And that was why I couldn’t understand her need of wanting to shear me open to expose my inner-workings.
My mind raced with where to begin. How can I quell this? Where do I start?
Then it hit me. My hands began tapping to compose a forwarded email to someone who’d appeared in my life unexpectedly and had shown himself to be a man filled with more wisdom than the demons that haunted him. Jackson Q. Hunter.
I need help. was all I could think to type.
It was just after midnight Pacific Standard Time, which meant he, too, was lost in slumber at three in the morning on the east coast. I gazed out of the window seeing the same black hues I believed my beloved had been swarmed with during that haunting time in her life. I needed to tell her. She had to be told gently. I would have it no other way. But I couldn’t do it now when we were surrounded by so many. There was nothing I could do at the moment.
So, I did what I knew best when my back was against the proverbial wall. I prayed. Silently, I besought Eloah. I needed His power.
Minutes later my computer pinged. It was a return from Jackson.
Tell me where and how soon we can meet. I’m sending my best man.
Lex
My clasped hands leaped from the table at the sound of the doorbell. My elbows slammed back on the wood surface, shaking my coffee mug. I’d been drinking coffee for the past four hours. I hadn’t slept since we left the plane and Ezra hit me with fuckery. I still feel the nausea that almost ejected from my mouth when he spoke to me in his counselor tone and rhythm. I’m O.D. embarrassed and still can’t believe Nyree would do something like this to me of all people. I feel like I brought my drama into his straight-laced world. His father, mother, staff…
My fucking god…
Ezra appeared at the door. “I’m sure that’s them. Are you ready for this?” he rasped, eyes filled with distress.
He may have presented as modelesque in his black crew neck sweater carving his broad chest, rolled up to his lower arms and black dress pants with clean black shoes, but I could sense his deep concern. I’d embarrassed him, his ministry.
I nodded, stomach stirring with anxiety.
I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide there forever. When I tried to sleep after we arrived home, all I could see in the pitch black of the room was Artie’s slick ass leer when I took the stand at his trial. I hadn’t thought of the trial in years. In fact, until that nightmare last year, I hadn’t been haunted by the memory of it. I’d somehow pushed it all into a locked room in my mind. When I realized I wouldn’t be getting any sleep, I crept out of bed and went to Ms. Remah’s place to break the news. I couldn’t wait till daylight. I cried in her arms, feeling so much shame; for the rape and not coming clean with Ezra about it before we married. After I’d quieted she forced me to go back to bed, assuring her faith in Ezra’s plans to meet with someone this morning to handle the shit storm we were all now facing. I obeyed and dragged my weak body back to the main house. Ezra was up, shirtless and heaving. Anger carved into his face. He didn’t speak, didn’t have to. He pointed to the back steps and I took to them for our bedroom. But I couldn’t sleep. I eventually got up for a shower and made coffee.
“Lex,” I heard a feminine voice call out. I lifted my head and found Elle standing in the doorway wearing camel colored bellbottoms, a brown turtleneck under a fur shawl, and hidden nude heels. Her golden curly locks were pushed back into a ponytail displaying her sharp cheekbones and pouted rose colored lips. Even at eight in the morning, Elle was a certified diva. “Please sit up,” she ordered, authority lining her tone. “I’m only called for people who mean something to o
thers. If they didn’t give a shit about you, I wouldn’t know your name.”
My spine jumped to straighten at the table, sending a wave of nausea over me again. I cupped my mouth in case it decided to come up. Elle stood stock-still with Ezra a few feet behind her. I couldn’t take their heavy gazes upon me: I had no idea if they were of the judgmental kind.
I swallowed back the bile. “Hi, Elle,” I attempted, almost overtaken by a cry.
I would not cry! I couldn’t in front of people who didn’t really know me. They didn’t know my Harlem Pride. I may not have been prepared for this jab, but best believe as soon as I gathered my bearings I would be swinging and hard. That had my back lengthening and my chin rose above my shoulders, finally.
Elle finally moved, placing her briefcase on the table. “Let’s start from the top. Tell me what you want the world to know,” she spoke as she slid the brown fur from her narrow shoulders and placed it on the back of the chair next to me. “If something doesn’t fly, I’ll let you know.”
“First of all, I’ve never stripped. That was not my job and Rusty knew it.” My imploring eyes roved over to a stoic Ezra, who stood at the door with his hands tucked in his pockets, his face blank. I’d just given him a lap dance, techniques I’d learned from the strippers at Rusty’s. But I hadn’t been one, and I needed him to know that. “I’m not hating on strippers; they do what they have to do, but that was never a good look for me. Nyree’s ass worded it as though I was.”
Elle nodded slowly, hesitantly accepting that as important information. “Okay. I can use that. But what I need to know before I weave a response for the most pertinent party—Redeeming Souls—is if you two are together after this or not. I can swing it either way.” Her eyes went from me to Ezra.
My heart galloped hard in my chest, my mouth went dry, eyes fighting back the tears, and fingers gripped the porcelain mug to the point of pain. This is the question—the probability that I tried to ignore all morning. Ezra’s reputation couldn’t survive this. In the end he wasn’t the person hiding secrets I warned him about when he asked to marry me. The scandal hadn’t been him preferring dick on the low: it was me having been raped.
