Careful What You Click For

by Mary B. Morrison

  Well-endowed, no doubt. The bagginess in his slacks couldn’t hide the girth of the imprint against his thigh. Her body experienced an orgasm before she made it to the table. Climaxing without any physical contact, that wasn’t a first. Her husband used to have that effect on her.

  Slowing her pace, she contemplated doing an about-face, returning to her car, and heading to acting class.

  God wouldn’t have sent her a man that fine. Temptation lingered on her clitoris. That man must have been sent by Satan himself.

  “Hello, gorgeous. I’m Cairo. And before you comment, my mother really named me Cairo,” he explained, pulling out a tan wooden chair.

  Whoa! What were the odds of her meeting a man with a uniquely beautiful name befitting his pronounced Egyptian features?

  “Hi, Cairo. I’m ‘Irresistible.’ And, no, my mother didn’t name me that, but that’s what you can call me.” Monet couldn’t believe she was lusting over and flirting with a complete stranger.

  She sat as he asked, “What would you like?”

  You, she thought. Naked. In bed. Eating my pussy.

  Eight customers waited in line. If he ordered now, that would give her time to regroup and bring down her libido a few notches.

  “A medium triple caramel chai latte.” She had to look up to avoid staring at his dick.

  “May I get you something to eat?” he offered.

  This time she stared at his bulge. Her pussy said yes. “No, thanks.”

  What you need is to get your thirsty ass up out of this chair and go to that class you paid for. Monet had not realized how sexually deprived she was until now.

  Resisting reaching out to touch his thigh, she knew the time had come for her to prepare an action plan for having a substitute husband in order to sustain her marriage. The lyrics to Maurice Moore’s “Destination Unknown,” which were floating in her mind, were complementary to her present situation.

  A ringtone registered on her phone. She knew exactly who it was. Maybe that was a sign. Removing her cell from her purse, Monet read, Hey, baby. Don’t be upset with me. I’ll be home soon.

  Cairo’s hand touched her shoulder. “Hungry? Or you gotta go?”

  Redirecting her focus, Monet silenced her phone, then gave Cairo her undivided attention.

  “Just a chai latte. Thanks.” Monet smiled softly. Quietly took a deep breath.

  Silently he eyed her wedding set. “I’ll be right back, Mrs. Irresistible.”

  Returning with two hot beverages, Cairo sat across the table from her. “If you don’t mind, start with why you as a married woman are pursuing a single man?”

  Monet held her cup with both hands, but didn’t lift it off the table. She looked into Cairo’s eyes and explained, “I’ve been with the same man for the last twelve years. I’m interested in a deviation from the norm. I’m hopeful this encounter will help me understand why my husband is neglecting me.”

  Cairo raised his brows. “You? Neglected? I’d never do that to you.”

  “How about we start with your taking the edge off?” Monet boldly said, surprising herself.

  “Cool. When?” Cairo asked.

  “Since you’re single, your place. Now.” Monet wasn’t seeking a long-term relationship. She wanted to fuck and be fucked real good.

  A one-morning stand with a man she’d never see again was what she needed.

  CHAPTER 29

  Jordan

  “How long have you been celibate?” Relaxing in her rose gold spa tub, Jordan spoke through the Bluetooth speaker that was built into the wall behind her.

  “Nine months times seven equals five years and three months,” he said, adding, “I really like you.”

  Right away she knew Langston was lying. It was a good thing she hadn’t met him on the app. They’d have to change it from CelibateNoMore to CelibateWhores. Men always admired her, in the beginning. Their enthusiasm lasted until they realize she had a phenomenal head on her shoulders, a mansion with everything she ever wanted in it, wealth beyond their imagination and what she’d spend in her lifetime.

  She would’ve asked him that question the night they’d accidentally met (which reminded her she needed to text Terrence a thank-you). But she didn’t want to come across as being desperate.

  Nine months times infinity wasn’t the answer she was anticipating. Maybe closer to nine hours or nine days, considering most men in Atlanta held the Bible in one hand and their dick in the other.

  At the top of the fuck chain were recently released inmates. Behind bars they found religion, but day one on the street, they chased women, including the men who preferred men. She couldn’t believe the number of females in the ATL that allowed just-released convicts to move into their homes. Jordan had been an attorney long enough to have represented countless men that were users and losers.

  Holding a handful of bubbles, Jordan curled her fingers. “Wait a minute. Multiplying is cheating. My count is higher than yours. Legitimately.”

  “All men are dogs,” Langston said. “So I have to times mine by seven, but you can’t do that. I’m glad yours isn’t more than five years, because if it were, I’d have to end this damn conversation. You’d be a born-again virgin. If that were the case, no man could get into that pussy no matter how hard he tried.” He laughed.

  Humph. Mr. Derby, like most men, believed he was funny, when he was not. Jordan carefully stepped onto the bath mat. She wrapped a large white fluffy towel around her dripping wet, sudsy body. Removed the shower cap and head wrap from her hair.

  “So you know I’m about to explode,” Langston said. “Let’s FaceTime and indulge in mind-fucking. I love a woman who stimulates me all over.”

  Was that how he remained celibate?

  “Langston Derby. What’s your government name?” Jordan asked in order to complete his background check as they spoke on the phone.

  Some men in Atlanta had multiple identifications. And they could get away with using an alias because women seldom checked to find out if they were lying. Langston Derby could be Derby Langston, or Langston Williams, or the great-great-grandson of Langston Hughes! Jordan had heard it all.

  “Langston Derby, no middle name. I have nothing to hide,” he answered.

  “And you’re thirty?” she asked.

  Langston confidently replied, “You have a problem with making virtual love with a younger man? I find you attractive. I want to see your pussy.”

  Jordan was not flattered, but she found his statement interesting. “Sorry, but that was a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question,” she said, sitting on the wet towel at her home office desk.

  An incoming call registered from Langston requesting to FaceTime. Jordan declined.

  “To be continued in person. I have to get ready for church,” she said.

  “Mind if I attend?” he asked. “I need to be saved. By you.”

  “I do mind. Meet me at Bar Purgatory next Sunday afternoon. I’ll text you a time.”

  Langston countered, “You mean today.”

  She was sure he’d heard her correctly the first time. “I said what I meant. Next Sunday afternoon, Mr. Derby. I’ll let you know what time.”

  “Sure thing,” he said. “I’m a patient man. Until then, keep smiling, beautiful. And don’t sell a bit.” He laughed.

  Ending the call, Jordan entered the limited information she had into their legal background-check database. Langston did in fact own a men’s clothing business with Theodore Ramsey. His net worth was four million. Hmm. His birthplace was Columbia, Maryland.

  Her online net worth was four times his. Add another ten million to the sixteen and the online reporting would be closer to accurate. He could be worth a lot more. Or less.

  Jordan’s gut instinct urged her to cancel the date.

  Her curiosity overruled.

  CHAPTER 30

  Chancelor

  Chancelor stood in front of Hope for All Church; he was desperately waiting for Victoria to arrive.

  “Good morning,
Brother Chancelor,” a member said.

  Chancelor responded with a friendly greeting. Church was starting in twenty minutes. Victoria was unusually late, at least by ten minutes. He dialed her cell. There was no answer. Chancelor called again. No answer. He’d impatiently waited all week for this day to come. Victoria couldn’t disappoint him. They both had a reason to take Tracy down together.

  “Aw, shit,” he said. Victoria best hurry up.

  Noticing Tracy approaching him with Brother William Copeland on her arm, Chancelor pointed his phone at them and started recording live.

  “Good morning, Brother Leonard,” Brother Copeland stated. “Allow me to introduce you to my long-lost daughter, Tracy Benjamin.”

  Fumbling his cell, Chancelor made a quick recovery, snatching it in midair, then held it against his vest. He could be Brother Copeland’s son-in-law. That would really piss Victoria off. The live video was still active. He held the camera in Brother Copeland’s face. “Repeat that.”

  Brother Copeland stuck out his chest. “Allow me to introduce my long-lost daughter, Tracy Benjamin. She’s cute as a dumplin’.” He stood tall. Smiled wide with pride.

  Tracy was in a sleeveless white dress, with green-leaves print and splashes of pink, that was shrink-wrapped to her titties, waist, and her ass. A speck of pollen couldn’t squeeze under that outfit. Tracy hid behind large-framed dark sunglasses and a pink wide-brim hat. She had short green lace gloves on her hands, like she was going to the Kentucky Derby after service. Chancelor wished she were headed to a funeral. Hers.

  Toggling the camera in his direction, Chancelor spoke to his followers as if he was making the church announcements. “Brother Copeland, you can’t trust Tracy Benjamin. She’s a liar. She’s a thief. And she’s not your daughter. What happened to the white dude she was with last Sunday? And Brother Melvin the Sunday before that? Where he at? I’m warning you. She’s a whore after your money, man.”

  Chancelor toggled his camera, held it in their face like he was reporting the news. Tracy didn’t say one word on the live.

  “Brother Leonard,” Brother Copeland said. “I imagined your vocabulary to be a bit more extensive than . . . Shall I say, a third grader could speak better. Brother Melvin is probably recovering from having two front teeth implanted.”

  Tracy laughed. Chancelor wanted to kick her teeth out. All of them. Whore!

  Tracy never let go of Brother Copeland. They climbed the stairs, arm in arm.

  “What you doing out here?” Jordan asked, startling him. She stepped from behind Chancelor to his side. “Whatever you do, don’t say shit to Tracy. I already warned you.”

  Too late. Ending his live video, Chancelor replied, “I don’t have anything else to say to her. I’m waiting on my new girlfriend, Shanita. I invited her to church today,” he lied.

  “Shanita, huh?” Jordan shook her head.

  “That’s right. Besides, Tracy is already inside the church with her new sponsor. Brother Copeland.”

  “I saw them. See you at the altar.” Jordan gracefully made her way up to the front doors.

  “Bruh, what you doing standing out here like you on a beat? Let’s go,” Kingston said, approaching Chancelor.

  “Man, I’m waiting on Victoria. She’s not here yet.”

  “See you inside.” Kingston followed in Jordan’s footsteps.

  Chancelor was on a beat of sorts. Missed his opportunity to hancuff Tracy to him, the way she was holding on to William Copeland.

  The moment Chancelor saw Victoria, he approached her. “What did you come up with?” he asked, playing his live video for her to see.

  “Already seen it.” Nonreactive to the footage, Victoria nonchalantly commented, “If I tell you, you’ll ruin it.”

  “I promise you, I won’t,” he said, eager to hear the details.

  “And I promise you, you will,” she retorted.

  Chancelor followed Victoria indoors, whispering, “You missed it. Tracy came with your man. Brother Willy seems like his willy is happy without you. Tracy might inherit all of his shit.” Chancelor hoped to irritate Victoria into sharing their plan, but she remained calm. He continued, “Brother Copeland was at her house last night, so I know he wasn’t with you. Don’t y’all do it every Saturday?”

  Soon as they were in the rear, out of the view of the congregation, wham! Victoria slapped his face.

  “Ow! That hurt,” he said, rubbing his cheek.

  “Say something else. I’ll beat you like you stole the offering.” Victoria placed her hand in her uniform pocket. “And I’ll use this on you, too.”

  “Use what?” Chancelor didn’t see anything.

  He had a date later this week with a woman he hoped would make Tracy jealous. Her name, Elite, was suitable to her sweet telephone personality.

  Victoria cracked the door, stared.

  “You looking at them?” Chancelor questioned. “What’s that serpent Tracy doing? Let me see.”

  Victoria stepped aside. Tracy mouthed the word “bitch” at him, stood, then claimed her usual seat. Last row. Outer end. That was okay. Chancelor had her bitch, all right.

  Victoria stood alone, sprinkling something in her palms.

  “If that’s holy water, give me some.” Chancelor reached for the bottle.

  Shifting the small black bottle to the side, she yelled, “Don’t touch it!”

  “Damn, Victoria,” Jordan commented.

  “Yeah. You act like it’s acid,” Kingston added.

  When did those two come in? Chancelor thought.

  “Or poison,” Chancelor said. Drawing back his hands, he smiled. His eyes grew with excitement.

  Victoria dug into her uniform pocket, pulled out a doll that had a face resembling Tracy’s, then splashed it with the contents from the little black bottle. “It won’t kill her, but it might make her wish she was dead.”

  A sinister look consumed Victoria’s face. Her eyes squinted. Lips curled.

  Jordan said, “I do not want to be an accomplice to whatever you’re plotting against that woman. See y’all inside,” then left.

  Kingston followed Jordan.

  Victoria warned Chancelor, “Whatever you do, don’t touch Tracy. Stay away from her, forever.”

  He frowned, thinking, Forever?

  CHAPTER 31

  Victoria

  “Forgiveness is for the soul of the sinner. For we all sin. I have sinned. My wife has sinned. Can you picture a world without forgiveness? I can’t. I want each of you to open up your heart. How can you ask God to forgive your debts, but you refuse to forgive your debtors?” Pastor Baloney stomped from one end of the platform to the other in a purple robe, with a long gold stole.

  Well, the Lord knows my heart, and I’m not asking Him for permission, but I will pray for forgiveness, Victoria thought, then said, “Amen, Pastor!” as he concluded his sermon. The organist played “Be Blessed” by Yolanda Adams.

  Standing at Chancelor’s normal post, Victoria was on the same side with Tracy. She nodded across the row at her usher partner. Brother Willy Copeland was two rows back on her side. He avoided making eye contact with her. He must’ve felt guilty and asked Tracy to sit elsewhere. There was no way Tracy would part from marking her territory.

  But it was too late for Victoria not to follow through with her plan. The damage was already done. The entire congregation had seen her man with Tracy. What Victoria had to do was stop Brother Willy from signing her inheritance over to Tracy. And she had just the right potions to make certain that the two of them being seen together at church didn’t repeat. One for Tracy and the other—she’d administer later—was for Brother William Copeland.

  Gracefully Victoria stepped to her left again and again. Each time she received the basket from the person on the end of the row, she passed it to the first person on the next. The collection traveled toward Chancelor. Alternating watching Victoria and Tracy, he moved to the last row. Seeing each parishioner drop their tithes in the basket, Tracy’s head was
turned in Chancelor’s direction. For the first Sunday in nearly a year, the man next to Tracy didn’t appear to be her sponsor.

  Tramp probably thinks she’s hit the jackpot with Willy.

  This was a time when history did repeat; Tracy did not make a donation. Victoria placed her hand inside her right uniform pocket. She grasped the voodoo doll, then tossed it in Tracy’s lap.

  Startled, Tracy’s head snapped in Victoria’s direction. Tracy picked it up, held it. She stared at the doll whose face mirrored hers, then looked at Victoria. “Bitch, what is this?!” Tracy threw the doll toward the basket.

  Victoria snatched the doll in midair as she splashed oil from the little black bottle into Tracy’s mouth. Wiping her lips, Tracy appeared confused.

  “Oh, my, what is this?” Victoria asked, as though Tracy had given the look-alike to her. She quickly stuffed Tracy’s mini-me into her pocket before anyone else touched it, because they, too, would receive the curse.

  Leaping from her seat, Tracy swung at Victoria’s face, nearly connecting with Victoria’s eye. Oohs and aahs resounded in unison from the congregation. Victoria swiftly moved to the center aisle, then stood behind Chancelor.

  The man next to Tracy grabbed Tracy’s bicep, pulled her down into her seat, then said, “Forgiveness, Sister Benjamin.”

  Roaring laughter escaped Chancelor’s mouth as he bent over, breaking his silence, holding his stomach with one hand. Standing tall, he said, “It’s a baby doll, you guys.” Staring and walking toward the altar, Chancelor whispered to Victoria, “Whatever you did, good job.”

  One could hear chatter among the church members.

  The man seated next to Tracy said, “It’s okay, Sister. It was a rag doll.”

  Facing the guy, Tracy said, “It wasn’t a regular doll! It had my face on it. It was some sort of voo—”

  “Oh! Damn!” He pinched his nose.

  “What the hell?!” Tracy said, covering her mouth.

  People around Tracy scattered as though tear gas exploded.

  “The doors of the church are closed! Service is over,” Pastor Baloney said. “It smells like every one shitted on themselves. I’ll bless the offering in my office. Damn!”