Sex in the Sanctuary

by Lutishia Lovely

  The Voice continued. But that was only after you played the pity card with Vivian, taking advantage of your relationship with her to be near Cy.

  “I knew he wanted me to stay with him, but he couldn’t ask directly!” she countered.

  I see.

  She was not going to listen to the logic of her conscience. “Satan, I rebuke you! Cy is my future husband and my place is by his side!”

  I’m not Satan, stop rebuking Me.

  Millicent jumped up and began pacing again. The dinner had been lovely; even Mrs. Brook, or Queen Bee as all her members called her, seemed to warm up to her. Tai was so excited about the S.O.S. Summit that her eyes fairly glistened while listening to all the updated information Vivian and Millicent were able to provide. Millicent had felt like one of the family. She felt like a pastor’s wife, like Cy’s wife. She smiled, remembering that feeling, and couldn’t help smiling as she relived the utter rapture of sitting next to Vivian during the evening service, in the front row. Millicent tried to involve God in her illusion.

  “Since it’s Your will, it is only good practice for me to play the role of Cy’s wife.”

  You’re playing a role, all right.

  Millicent would not be swayed. “I’m just speaking those things that are not as though they were!”

  No, you’re just speaking the things that you want and trying to convince yourself that it’s Me talking.

  That was enough. Millicent wouldn’t stand around and listen to this garbage another minute. She ran into her bedroom, peeled off her clothes and donned a pair of shorts. She quickly pulled on a pair of cotton socks and grabbed her Air Jordans from the closet. She stopped by the bathroom and got a scrunchie to tie back her hair. She grabbed her jogging pouch and placed her keys, cell phone and a five-dollar bill inside. Without stopping to turn off lights or the radio, she headed for the door and sprinted outside, running swiftly and steadily until the only sounds she heard were her escalating heartbeat, her labored breathing and the sound of rubber meeting pavement in the quiet suburban streets.

  Forty-five minutes later, Millicent sat tired and sweaty outside the local Jamba Juice Bar. She gingerly nursed a Tropical Paradise smoothie, a delectable blend of pineapple, papaya, banana, mango, orange juice, vanilla yogurt and crushed ice. It tasted heavenly and was especially refreshing after Millicent’s hard run. The run had done her mind good as well as her body, had chased away the voice of the enemy that badgered her in her condo and allowed her to think of Cy in the husbandly terms that God had ordained.

  Sitting back, she allowed herself to continue her thoughts of what had happened in Kansas. She was able to think clearer now, with less fury and more focus. Things worth having were worth fighting for, and where Cy was concerned, Millicent would fight every woman in the universe. And she would win.

  That thought led to images of her. Hope something or other. Millicent had known she was trouble from the time she first spotted her the day of Cy’s seminar. She didn’t know what kind of trick she’d used, what lewd promise she’d given, but she’d seen how Cy’s eyes seemed to follow her as she left the sanctuary and headed toward the offices. Millicent knew that game. Playing hard to get, acting as if she had no interest at all in speaking with Cy when Millicent knew that was exactly what she wanted to do. What woman didn’t? God knew ninety-nine percent of the other women had made a beeline to his side as soon as the benediction ended. That sneaky she-devil was the number one reason Millicent had been so determined to stay by Cy’s side. Guess this is something else I’m going to have to learn how to handle, women always trying to get my man. She remembered how the woman had shamelessly brought attention to herself during that night’s services. How she had acted so into the worship, standing and lifting her hands and eyes to God as if He were really on her mind. Only a fool wouldn’t recognize that she was only flaunting her body in that shimmering suit. Millicent loved God just as much as she did and was sure it didn’t take all that!

  She finished her smoothie and tossed the cup in the trash, heading back to her condo at a leisurely pace. She remembered how Cy’s eyes had seemed to stay on Miss Thang, so much so that when the last worship song played, Millicent made sure she stood up first, just to make sure that this little biddy wouldn’t be the only one reverencing God. Reverencing my foot, advertising her availability is more like it. Still, when the services were over and the special guests had retired to the pastors’ reception area, Miss Thang was nowhere in sight. Thank goodness!

  Millicent was only slightly rebuffed when Cy turned down her offer to drive into Kansas City and visit a jazz club Millicent had spotted in her hotel’s “Things To Do” guide. Of course he would be exhausted; he’d stood in the sanctuary for almost two hours after his seminar, fielding questions and fighting off Mrs. Taylor wannabes. But Millicent hadn’t left his side, handing out pamphlets and pretyped seminar notes, getting him water, arranging the sale of his tapes in the church bookstore, you know, things a wife would do. After all, hadn’t he agreed to have breakfast with her the following morning? The fact that he hadn’t come alone, but had shown up with two matrons from Mt. Zion, a Mrs. Stokes and a Mrs. Waters, or Winters or something or other, just underscored the fact that he wanted others to know they were an item, a couple, a pair. Further, his attention to these old ladies simply confirmed his sensitive, compassionate side and probably gave the elderly, apparently lonely women something to talk about for months to come.

  Millicent knew for a fact that Cy hadn’t attended the next morning’s sessions because of a leaders’ meeting held by Pastor Brook for a few, select visiting ministers. Millicent had used this time to try and locate which hotel Cy was staying at, to no avail. She’d called all of the places that she could think of that would suit his fancy—the Sheraton, Hyatt, Hilton, Crown Center and a few more upscale hotels the concierge had suggested, but one Mr. Cy Taylor was not registered at any of them. She’d checked hotels in Overland Park and Kansas City with no luck. Had she been able to find him, she would have been able to watch, or rather guard him more closely and make sure that some floozy didn’t try and stalk him, try and finagle her way into his hotel suite! Millicent had pleaded the blood of Jesus at the very thought!

  She’d breathed an audible sigh of relief when after looking around she discovered that Hope was not in attendance at the afternoon session. She’d probably poked her head into the morning one and, after not seeing Cy, figured she should take her manhunt elsewhere. That was the best thing she could do, because if Cy was the game she was hunting, he’d already been snagged. Her tension mounted slightly, however, when Cy was a no-show at the afternoon session as well. She’d made subtle inquiries until she ascertained that Cy had left with a few of the other ministers for a trip to Kansas City. This didn’t make Millicent feel totally comfortable, but at least he was with men of God. Sister Vivian and Queen Bee hadn’t been there either, but after all, they were close friends and had probably taken the opportunity to catch up on each other’s lives.

  No, her dander hadn’t risen fully until the evening services when Miss Thang came waltzing in wearing a gaudy, loud, lime green dress that fit her body like the peel on a banana and, gasp and sputter, showed the imprint of her disgustingly large rear end for all the world to see! A true woman of God would never be seen in such a revealing design; only hoochies dressed like that. Millicent knew that this outfit was part of Hope’s arsenal and that Cy was her target. When they were introduced at the reception, Millicent made sure Hope got the message, that she was no threat to Millicent’s future. Long after Cy was gone from Kansas and Hope was forgotten, Millicent would be with him in L.A., at his church and in his home. After all, Millicent had his home and cell phone numbers. She knew him intimately. They had kissed, passionately, and Millicent knew that but for his Godly restraint, he would have gladly done more, much more. It was obvious that he’d wanted to. No, Millicent would not be intimidated by this woman. In a few hours, Cy would be on a plane headed to Chicago and, in a
few days, would be headed back home to California, back to her.

  Millicent held on to those comforting thoughts throughout the Midnight Musical and the Angels of Hope performance. Again, she watched as Cy gazed at Hope, as if transfixed by something more powerful than he could control. The woman was probably into witchcraft. The spirit of seduction. Millicent had quietly spoken in tongues during the entire performance, binding the enemy and breaking her curses. She was sure it worked because after the musical, little Miss Slime in Lime was nowhere to be seen, and it was Millicent who sipped coffee with Sister Vivian and the first lady even after Cy, citing fatigue and an early rising the next morning, had left the hall to return to his hotel. Millicent assumed his was an early flight to Chicago and since her own flight left at eight A.M., she’d left shortly afterward and returned to her hotel to pack.

  Millicent let herself into her condo and turned to lock the door, leaning back against it. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she again placed the events of this weekend in their proper perspective.

  She knew that she was destined to be Cy’s wife. She knew that she was the one who sat at his side and dined with Pastor King, Queen Bee and the Montgomerys. She knew that she was the one who’d sat in the rows reserved for pastors’ wives, the first row. She knew that she was the one who assisted him after his seminar, easing his burden by overseeing the selling of his tapes. She knew that she was the one who hugged him tightly, in front of everyone in the reception room, as he left to get ready for his early morning flight.

  As she opened her closet to put away her tennis shoes, Millicent’s eyes rested on the large garment bag hanging at the far end of the enclosure. She reached over and caressed the bag before unzipping it and opening it up. Soft swirls of silk met her hand as she gingerly fingered the intricate stitching, grasping and releasing the myriad beads across the bodice. Her eyes watered at the thought of donning this beautiful gown to walk down the aisle into the arms of her future, Cy Taylor. Millicent knew it was just a matter of time before this promise of God’s came to pass. After all, she had put feet to her faith!

  Millicent may have known many things. But what she didn’t know was that Cy’s early rising had nothing to do with a flight to Chicago. That after seeing Hope, he decided to leave for the Windy City at a later time. That he’d awakened early not to catch an early flight, but to have an early breakfast with the woman who’d captured his attention from the moment she’d entered the room. The woman who looked gorgeous in gold and glamorous in green. That after breakfast, he’d persuaded this woman to give him a tour of the city and to show this ordinarily busy man who now acted as if he had nothing but time on his hands what one did for fun in the Midwest. Millicent didn’t know what Cy knew, that as surely as the sun shone and the moon glowed, he would see this woman again, get to know as much as he could about her. What Millicent didn’t know was that Cy had fallen in love with Hope Jones as he glimpsed that first smile and had unconsciously pledged his eternal devotion to her as he watched her dance with unabashed reverence and adoration before the Lord.

  She felt like Cinderella

  “You know what they say. If something looks too good to be true, it probably is.” Hope and her cousin, Frieda, were browsing in the suburban shopping center of Oak Park Mall, doing more talking and window-shopping than actual purchasing. The air-conditioned stores provided welcome relief from the August heat, reason enough to linger.

  “Girl, I don’t understand your butt at all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for, praying for? Haven’t you been harping to me for two years about wanting God to send you the right man? About believing in miracles and God being able to do anything? Now you’re telling me you’ve met somebody who to hear you tell it is all that and a bag of flaming hot chips, which my friend Rashiid obviously wasn’t, I might add, and you still trippin’. You pitiful.” A miniskirt with matching halter top caught Frieda’s eye. “Ooh, girl, look at that outfit! It’s calling my name.” Frieda was already rounding the corner to enter the shop.

  “Go on, Frieda, I’ll wait for you out here.” Hope walked over to the bench nestled between two large, lush-looking plants. She placed her bags beside her and eased her aching feet out of the low-heeled, leather sandals. Her lesson? Never wear almost-new shoes when going to the mall.

  Hope looked out on the people scurrying to and fro in the large building. Frieda was right. She was trippin’. But who wouldn’t? As she thought back to the conference and her weekend with Cy, she felt like Cinderella, who got invited to the ball and whose coach turned into a pumpkin after midnight. Even now, almost a month later, it still seemed like a dream.

  Remembering her edict from that afternoon, Hope entered the sanctuary with open eyes and a closed heart. She wouldn’t let Cy Taylor’s good looks cloud her common sense. She purposely avoided eye contact with him and reminded herself constantly that he was off limits, a reminder that seemed justified as she noticed the tall, attractive woman who was at his side after the conference. Hope tried to remain impassive as Cy took the pulpit and began his lecture on Financing Our Future and strove to keep her attention on the seminar topic. She dismissed the times when she thought she’d caught him looking at her, dropping her eyes down to doodle on the mostly blank notepad. She tried not to notice the piercing eyes, strong, squared shoulders, tapered waist and muscled legs, and tried not to think about the man’s tapered fingers or the soft, leather shoes that encased his large feet. You know what they say about men with big…The words in her mind began forming, causing her to physically shake her head, chasing the thought away before she could hear its conclusion.

  Later that day, she learned he was engaged to the woman she’d spotted at the seminar, the one who had followed his every move and seemed to hang onto his every word. Yeah, she looks more his type. She was tall and slender with symmetrically perfect features and long, straight hair. It had to be a weave. Surely God couldn’t have graced her with a perfect body and long hair! Surely in His mercy, He’d leave some imperfection requiring man’s feeble if inadequate intervention. It may not be hers, but Hope had to admit, the weave was tight!

  As were her clothes, as she remembered the obviously designer suit. Her nails were perfectly shaped and colored in a classic, French-tip design; her shoes looked as if they were brand new and cost not a penny under five hundred dollars. She appeared poised and confident, like a model out of Vogue magazine or a music video. They always got the good ones!

  Hope fought the feeling of jealousy that rose up unexpectedly at the thought that this woman would be so blessed as to have a man like Cy. It was just as well; he would never go for a woman like her. That was why after the seminar, she’d headed directly to the rehearsal hall, changed clothes and started stretching for dance practice. She focused all her thoughts and energy on the musical and their routine, forcefully blocking out any thought or image of Cy Taylor. She thoroughly enjoyed Pastor Montgomery’s message that night and was thankful for the Holy Spirit, because in His presence, Hope’s thoughts turned totally away from what’s his name.

  For once, Hope was thankful for the hectic pace the next day. With so many details still needing attention, she had been unable to attend either the morning or afternoon session. She refused to acknowledge that she secretly wanted the opportunity to see Cy again, if for no more reason than to be able to stare at someone that gorgeous in person. God knew that was probably as close as she’d ever come to someone like him. Hadn’t it been rumored that he was a millionaire? It was all the more unlikely that she’d be of any interest to him. As it was, she was praying that Southwestern Bell would let her phone stay on until her next payday. No, it was unlikely that someone who lived from portfolio to portfolio would want someone living from paycheck to paycheck.

  Even so, her heart fluttered that evening when she entered the sanctuary and looked up to find his gaze unmistakably fastened on her. She recovered quickly, dr
opping her eyes and easing up the aisle to take a seat near the back of the church. The man God had for her would be more than another pretty face. Checking her watch, she looked toward the doors. Rashiid had left a message earlier that day saying he might make it to the musical after all.

  And in fact, he did. She was glad for the distraction, and after ministering with the Angels of Hope, the last group to come on before Righteous, she was thankful that she had a man to sit by and enjoy the rest of the evening. On top of that, Millicent, who a member had been oh so glad to inform her was the name of Cy’s fiancée, had come to the musical looking as though she’d literally just stepped off a haute couture fashion runway. She wore a sleek, black designer dress, with tiny silver threads throughout. The dress was almost ankle length, with a deep, yet modest slit up the back. The bodice also dipped in the back, again stopping before it became ungodly but leaving enough skin to cause a weaker man to lust. Her hair was swept up in an elegant chignon, with tiny tendrils swirling down the sides and in the back. She wore diamond earrings with a matching necklace. Her shoes were silver, with a pointed toe and ankle straps which were, quite frankly, the baddest silver shoes Hope had ever seen. She sat directly behind Queen Bee and Sistah Montgomery, and Hope noticed that Sistah Montgomery spoke to her from time to time. Of course they’d be well acquainted since Cy was one of the associate pastors of the church. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, this Millicent woman looked the part of first lady. There was no way around it, and Hope acknowledged these facts reluctantly. The woman was gorgeous.

  Hope hadn’t seen Millicent or Rashiid before the midnight musical began. Prior to the commencement of services, she had been running around like a chicken with its head cut off, making sure all the various groups were ready to minister. Sistah Stronghart had gotten on her last nerve, issuing orders like an army sergeant, obviously thinking Hope could be in two or three places at the same time. But right before the Angels danced, she had gathered the troupe together for prayer and meditation, and once they’d entered into their own private worship, all the tension and anger and frustration of the day bowed before the presence of God. It was in this spirit she and the young ladies had entered the sanctuary. The first number they ministered to was an upbeat, reggae-tinged, contemporary song entitled “J-E-S-U-S.” Over the sounds of a bass-driven hip-hop beat, the 3-4 reggae timing and the rap-infused delivery of the lyrics by the African group Limit X, the Angels whirled and twirled, bringing the young and young at heart to their feet. Standing was the perfect posture for the audience to be in for their next and final selection, a slow, worshipful jazz version of the Baptist Hymn, “Holy, Holy, Holy,” performed by the Musical Messengers, gospel’s latest number one darlings.