Sinful Too

by Victor McGlothin

  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my mouth shut but I’ll be popping off on the inside. Hallelujah, Brother Pastor, hallelujah!”

  “Amen. You mind closing the door for a minute? I have another phone call to make.” Phillip left Richard alone in his office, which was nicely decorated with mahogany wood furniture and expensive oil paintings purchased by the church at Richard’s behest. His discretionary budget was five thousand dollars a month and attached to a credit card paid by his personal secretary. It was a minimal concession in comparison to the six-hundred-thousand-dollar salary he had demanded after learning two years ago that ministers with far less notoriety and smaller flocks earned more than he did. He considered his previous compensation of a quarter million a slap in the face. The elders had a meeting, then wholeheartedly agreed.

  Behind closed doors, Richard slid a platinum credit card from his wallet. He laid it on the desk beside the business card Dior had given him. He stared at both of them, interested in what Dior was really like underneath her tough exterior and somewhat gritty homegirl posturing. He’d seen glimpses of warmth and honest compassion, wit, and an underlying angst toward conformity. She was a complex soul, a solitary woman who posed so many questions. Lured to her like a moth drawn by a flame, Richard was more than curious and he couldn’t explain it; not even to himself.

  When he heard a car door shut outside, he turned his attention toward the parking lot. His wife had pulled into her personal space. He watched her climb out of her mint-green Lexus SUV, which she purchased because she thought it complemented her eyes. Nadeen waved at him through the partially opened blinds. He did the same. As she stomped down the pathway toward the business office entrance, chatting into a cell phone, he continued watching. Somewhere during their seventeen years of marriage, the torch he’d carried for Nadeen had blown out. He loved her, nothing changed about that. She was his wife, mother of his daughters, and someone who could no longer fuel his passion. Richard collected the cards from his desk then put them away. He realized his dilemma the moment she stepped through the door. He had everything a man could have prayed for. However, he was utterly and undeniably bored with it all.

  Richard heard Nadeen’s flats clicking down the hall, her feet and mouth moving at an amazing clip simultaneously. He folded his arms and chuckled, remembering how that used to amuse him when she’d tear through a room like a whirlwind. Now, it seemed like a ridiculous way for a forty-three-year-old woman to act.

  Nadeen Allamay wore her fair complexion and emerald colored eyes like fashion accessories. Voted Miss Mississippi Valley College 1987, she still cherished the years when her waistline wasn’t so full and her behind didn’t sag. Her looks hadn’t shifted nearly as much as her shape. Beautiful green eyes, long, thick, sandy-red hair, and high cheekbones still drew second glances from other men. Nadeen held her own as far as carpool moms went, but years had passed since Richard looked at her and saw the beauty queen he’d chased around campus for months before she gave him the time of day. Their marriage hadn’t died, but it was limping along the shores of apathy and mediocrity. Richard loved Nadeen and his children enough to stay in it without making a fuss like his father had to provide a safe environment for him and his four sisters. Nadeen loved Richard much like she always did, before the money and fame entered into it. He was a great provider and a good mate, when he wasn’t overly concerned with church business at the detriment to his family’s issues. Nadeen didn’t mind Richard’s weight increase or that his midsection had softened over the years. His shifting measurements didn’t change the way she felt about him. Unfortunately, Richard didn’t share her philosophy. His predilection to overvalue the visual aspects of his relationship had become a problem, although he hadn’t voiced it. Now that Dior was on his mind, Richard had already begun to reevaluate his marriage and his needs.

  “Hey, Richard,” Nadeen whispered, with her hand up to deter him from starting a conversation while she blabbed into her cell phone. “Yeah, Rose, I’ll make sure your name is on the list for next Tuesday. I’m still hot over the way they acted like you couldn’t be worked in. Uh-uh, girl, me either. Oh, uh-huh, I’m in Richard’s office right now. Okay, we’ll confirm the details later. Yeah, I will. Bye, Rose.”

  “Nadeen?” Richard said in a questioning manner. He wasn’t sure if she’d committed to shifting gears and conversing with him. “You through?”

  “Yes, honey. That was just Rose. We’re coordinating our schedules for next week and planning our monthly spa outings. You know, girl stuff. The last time her name didn’t make the list or somebody took it off, either way she was not happy.” Nadeen could tell by Richard’s blank expression that he wasn’t interested in hearing about a girl’s day out. She placed her designer bag on his desk then leaned in for a kiss. “I’m sorry,” she cooed lovingly. “I should have been off the phone but Rose can’t keep her mouth shut. You know how she can be. How was your day?”

  Richard took Nadeen in his arms like he’d done a million times before, but this one was different. He held her not like a wife but rather as a dear friend. He felt little beyond kinship. Disturbed by the lack of zeal in his heart, Richard pecked her on the cheek. “My day was good. Not anything special. I am hungry though. What’s for dinner?”

  Nadeen wrinkled her nose, as if dinner was an afterthought. “I had a late lunch so whatever you’re in the mood for is alright with me,” she answered casually. Had she known what Richard was thinking, she’d have put more thought into her response.

  “So, you didn’t sit anything out to thaw?” he asked, behind a shroud of discontentment. So this is the first time today you’ve thought about feeding your family? he thought to himself.

  “It’s no big deal,” Nadeen surmised, “I could stop by the Olive Garden and pick up something. The girls love pasta and it’s one of your favorite places and —”

  “What I really love is when you put your foot into dinner,” he interrupted emphatically. When he saw Nadeen staring at him oddly, as if to ask where that came from, he smiled. “Eating takeout is cool too.”

  “I didn’t know you felt that way about my cooking but I’ll keep it in mind.” Her comment hung in the air so long Richard wished he hadn’t brought it up. “Maybe I should get started on dinner then. I’ll see you at home, honey.”

  “Do I need to stop by the store for anything?” he asked, after regrettably putting his wife on the offensive.

  Grabbing her purse, Nadeen sighed. “Uh-uh, I got it. Just come on home when you’re finished here.” She left his office without saying goodbye, one thing she’d never done. Richard wanted to apologize for hurting her feelings, then he thought better of it. Since she was a housewife, well-cared for and lavished with the best of everything, the least she could do was lend more concentration to their household, he reasoned. It would be only the beginning of his disappointments, intensified by his growing admiration for another woman. His scheming heart began to plot against Nadeen, making it easier to rationalize the moves he was making in his head about Dior. He knew it was wrong to conceive such hazardous thoughts. But he told himself that tipping around the fringes of lust was enough of a thrill to sustain his curiosity. Convincing himself of that wasn’t so easy.

  Later that evening, Richard had dinner with his family. His mind was on the other side of town. Nadeen watched him closely after their discussion about home cooking. It shouldn’t have been difficult to feel the hole she bore into him with her eyes the entire time he picked over his meal, but he didn’t pay the least bit attention to her or the chicken, macaroni, and cheese casserole she’d prepared. Apparently, something other than her, his children, or the plate of food he allowed to get cold had inundated his mind. Nadeen shooed away her initial thoughts, dismissing them as bothersome notions having no business in a happy marriage. Richard was a busy man, a successful pastor, and a loving father. He wouldn’t be foolish enough to let a second affair inside the hedge he’d built after an earlier indiscretion nearly tore his world apart. Nadeen figur
ed her husband was merely wrapped up in church matters. Until there was something concrete to make her think differently, it was best to keep her eyes open and her unsettling concerns to herself.

  Richard’s restlessness followed him into the bedroom. Anxious ideas had him tossing and turning throughout the night. When he finally dozed off around three in the morning, Dior was there waiting on him. She stripped off his clothes and kissed him aggressively, performing the kinky acts Nadeen reserved for his birthday. It was the wildest sex he ever had, and even though it had happened in the recesses of his mind, it felt real as could be. He smelled Dior’s scent, touched, and tasted her. She was sensual, naughty, and sinfully skilled in the art of erotica. Passion swelled between his legs. Dior’s provocative maneuvers twisted Richard’s body while contorting hers in positions he wouldn’t have guessed possible. He gave her all that he had, matching stroke for stroke until he climaxed amid a thunderous boom of emotion. Richard awoke when he heard the sound of lightning clap against the darkened sky. Rain streamed down the windows. He sat on the side of the bed, staring breathlessly at the rise in his boxers and shocked by the accumulation of semen on his lap. Embarrassed by his first wet dream in years, Richard tiptoed into the master bathroom then closed the door. Gazing at himself in the mirror, he realized two things immediately. He’d have to rinse out his underwear and he really needed to get a tighter grip on reality. Confident in his ability to control his interest in Dior, he told himself it wouldn’t become a distraction in his home. His inner voice fooled him into believing it hadn’t already.

  Eight

  Easy Ain’t Free

  The next morning, Richard couldn’t wait to get out of the house. By the time Nadeen had gotten dressed, he’d had breakfast, read the newspaper, and disappeared. He left a note on the kitchen table explaining that he had a full agenda and needed to get a jump on it. He checked in at the office, followed up on a few phone calls, and quickly began to plot out the rest of his day, which was centered on seeing Dior again.

  Richard stopped by a ritzy car wash to have his Lexus sedan primed and polished. Next, he found himself at the Neiman Marcus fragrance counter. A pleasant sales assistant displayed several gift sets. Richard listened attentively to her spiels, each time imagining how that particular perfume would likely commingle with Dior’s natural scent. He smiled when the thought of spraying her shapely body came to mind, then he did his best to chase that wicked wish away. A gift is just a token to show my appreciation, he kept telling himself. Nothing more; nothing less.

  After sampling numerous fragrances and floral bouquets for almost an hour he decided on a pricey French perfume with hints of citrus and teakwood. It reminded him of a college girl he didn’t have a shot at nailing before eventually meeting Nadeen. Richard had dreamed about sleeping with Elise too, although he was married two months before giving up on that dream coming true.

  With a smile in his heart, Richard made his way to Giorgio’s. He strolled through the lower level of the shopping mall, holding on to the twine-strapped department store bag. He stopped at a kiosk in the middle of the pathway to check his teeth in the sunglass salesman’s mirror before making the turn into the men’s store. Suza recognized him the moment he came in. She smiled cordially, knowing who he was there to see. “Hey, is Dior in today?” he asked. “I’m supposed to pick up something.” Richard began to feel a bit sophomoric when Suza stared at his small Neiman’s bag before answering his question.

  “Dior’s tied up in the back, but I remember you. Tell me your name again.” While she awaited an answer, Richard held his lips together defiantly. He had gone through so many mental gymnastics planning for this meeting to have it stall before ever really getting started. If Suza retrieved his alterations instead of Dior, he’d have no viable reason to hang around. Returning later in the day occurred to him but he’d cleared his calendar so there was no other particular place to be. “I can’t pull your tag without a name,” Suza said, teasing him. She’d seen too many men strutting into the store with all kinds of gifts for Dior, and not once did they want her to gum up the works for them.

  When it appeared he’d wasted a lot of energy and effort, the office door opened. Dior came out, showering the room with her infectious laugh. “Richard, what are you doing here?” she asked innocently. Suza exhibited her displeasure in the way of a smirk, because her mini-torture session had come to an abrupt ending. She cleared her throat and immediately made herself scarce.

  “Hey, Dior,” Richard answered gleefully, as she drew nearer. Seeing her legs for the first time, he enjoyed watching how her short sundress showed them off. “Oh, uh, I came to get my suit and to bring you this.” His smile waned when Dior’s evaporated. “What, did I say something wrong?”

  “Come over here,” she instructed. Richard followed her as ordered to a section of the store where tall displays helped to camouflage their conversation. “Why didn’t you listen to me? You’re not supposed to be here today.” All I need is for Giorgio to come busting through that door and catch me up in this man’s face, she thought. “I was going to drop this on you later but you just had to deviate.”

  “I don’t understand. You told me to come by today because my monogrammed suit would be ready today.”

  Dior placed her freshly painted nails on her hips. “I told you to call before you came too.” Richard couldn’t quite read her demeanor. He leaned in to question it then decided to come out and ask.

  “You might want to tell me what’s going on,” he blurted out in a way she understood. “I didn’t think it was necessary to commit our last discussion to memory but it sounds like you’re reprimanding me.” Dior’s eyes widened with surprise. The tone in his voice thoroughly exhibited his frustration. It turned her on. Suddenly, she softened her expression to put him at ease.

  “Don’t be silly, I’m smart enough to know you can’t raise a grown man, no matter how hard you try. I asked you to call first because I didn’t know if I’d have a chance to get it wrapped in a special box,” she lied. “You did say it was for a special occasion.” She relaxed when it seemed that Richard fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

  “Now I do feel bad about deviating.” Laughter danced with his words. “Speaking of gifts, I stopped by Neiman’s to get a little token of thanks.” When he raised the bag, Dior put on a manufactured smile.

  “Ohhh, how sweet,” she sang, cutting her eyes at the closed office door. I’ve got to get this idiot out of here. “Thank you, Richard. That’s very thoughtful.” She continued propping up the fake cheesy grin although she hadn’t lifted a finger to accept the bag from his outstretched hands. Actually, she would have been surprised had he shown up empty-handed. What she hadn’t anticipated was his unheralded arrival with her lover less than a comfortable distance away. “Okay, this might sound kinda funny but I was going to tell you that it probably isn’t a good idea for you to come by the shop. My boss was clocking you the last time you came through and he’s real particular. He thinks you’re up to something.” Aren’t you up to something? she wanted to say, for the pure satisfaction of seeing his face when it rolled off her tongue. However, it was only a matter of time before Giorgio finished with the books.

  “Who is your boss to be making assumptions about my intentions?” Richard asked. He peered directly into Dior’s eyes for the answer. I’ll bet he’s trying to keep you for hisself, Richard thought. “I mean, I could speak with him if you want.” Again, he was reading her and she knew it. He was a lot more intuitive than most men she’d determined. She was forced to kick up her game another notch. Dior batted her eyes at Richard, tilted her head to the side like a smitten schoolgirl, then placed her hand on his wrist. Skin on skin contact, even on the most minute level, worked adequately when applied correctly.

  “Hmm, that won’t be necessary. Look, I’d love to accept your gift. You went through the trouble of picking it out, came in here smelling like a perfume counter, and I’m very flattered. I don’t need drama on my job though.
Besides, your suit isn’t here anyway. I’m working a split shift so I can bring it to you when I get off in about an hour. Call me?” Richard liked the sound of that. He had to close his mouth to keep from drooling over the thought of an off-site meet-and-speak. “So, would you please do us both a favor and hold on to my — what did you call it? — my token until I see you in about fifty-nine minutes?” Pensively, Dior marched Richard toward the exit then waved goodbye. The moment she spun on her heels to head back inside, Giorgio called her name. She cussed under her breath because it didn’t look good. “Yes,” she answered hesitantly, as Suza took a phone call at the cash register.

  “That was the preacher man again?” he asked, using the title she’d given him when questioned about Richard before.

  Giorgio knew what he saw, true enough. Dior figured there was no use in trying to smile her way out of this one. Drastic measures were required to hush his stormy apprehensions. She forced him to choose, his eyes or her lies. Once again, she turned her nose up to insinuate Richard had nothing she wanted. “This needs to be the last time we go here. I like our arrangement and I would not disrespect it by hooking up with other men in your shop,” she lied continually. “That would be like getting with someone else in your house and I’m not like that.” Though she had slept with her own cousin’s husband in their marital home. But what Giorgio didn’t know wouldn’t hurt Dior . . . she had him on the ropes. Now it was time for the knockout. “Preacher man wasn’t up to anything. He did bring me a little something for getting a rush on his alterations and initials stitched into his coat sleeve. I told him his payment was enough and sent him on his way, with whatever he brought with him. If that don’t feel like right to you then I can bounce. Better yet, you can. I’m not the one who’s married.” Without giving it another thought, Dior sighed and walked away as if she couldn’t be bothered with any more of his insecure rants.