Saint And Sinners: The King Angel Child of New York

by Tiana Laveen

  He slammed his fist on the table, his eyes turning light blue at that instant.

  “As King, you are simply a scale balancer. It doesn’t require you to act any differently than you currently do, unless trouble arises. You only move, like a chess piece, if a game is in motion… Otherwise, you keep your position. As we spoke the other day, understand: all of that is the same. There has to be a proper balance. It is doesn’t have to be perfect, a fifty-fifty split—that is unreasonable—but it cannot be severely disproportionate, for example, as it currently stands.”

  They both took a breather. The man was obviously trying to give him a moment to soak in the information.

  “New York has been poisoned. The people you saw in the old hotel will be of assistance to you. They have been fighting a battle they could never win. Koki is cunning and may be elusive, especially when he discovers you are actively looking for him. It is not a cowardly move on his part; it is strategic. Koki fears nothing. That makes him hard to beat, but also more prone to failure. Fear helps us in this regard. Fear lets you know when you are possibly going too far, saying too much. Fear and anxiety serve a purpose.”

  “So…here I am again. Facing another battle. The last situation I had to deal with was in regards to my wife’s ex-boyfriend who nearly killed her due to his revengeful actions geared towards me. Now, I have been tossed into an urban gang war… Krishna, I’m tired…” Saint closed his eyes as a mixture of grief and anger encompassed him. “There’s a lot going on. I’m running back and forth to L.A. for meetings, trying to get our site set up here properly, too. I have conferences coming up. We have five cases behind schedule because I haven’t had the time to even glance at the paperwork. I’ve been running Lawrence and Jagger ragged. My son is going through changes and I can’t do a damn thing about it. Do you know how worthless that makes me feel?!”

  Saint’s voice trembled.

  “My wife is going through changes, too. She just doesn’t realize I am more in tune with her struggles right now than she thinks.” He rubbed between his eyes and swallowed hard. “My wife…my wife, Krishna, is part of a movement, an important one, and she doesn’t fully realize it yet. She’s coming into ‘the know’; she’s coming into her own, little by little, but I had an important dream about this woman and…I need to be there for her. I cannot be running off playing seesaw equalizer out here! She and I are embarking on a new chapter of our lives and—”

  “I know. And she is where she needs to be in order to do it. She is Queen, in every sense of the word, Saint. Xenia, as your wife, is First Lady. Only, everyone but her knows it.” The man smiled at him, patting his hand. “Again, we all have choices, but in your case, you were conceived for many reasons. One, to help Rainbeau men, as you call them, interpersonally connect with women of African ancestry. I know you take that very seriously, and you are also driven morally to do so, whether you are aware of it or not.

  “Secondly, you were created to assist people in regards to intimacy issues. You are rather gifted in this area. As you know, our Creator crafted lovemaking, and he wants this to be a joyful time and experience for committed couples. Thirdly, Saint, you’ve been assigned to rule over New York and help protect the balance between Good and Evil. You are a leader. Accept it, stop acting brand new as you young people like to say, and move on! Goodness, your stubbornness has drained me.” The man cracked a smile. “It’s over with. Deal with it and get my lemonade please.”

  Saint burst out laughing and got to his feet to haul his ass towards the kitchen.

  You don’t argue with Krishna. You simply don’t and despite all that had transpired, Saint felt better equipped, ready to step into the light and claim what was rightfully his…

  And his rightful property was…New York.

  I’m home, Mama…

  *

  “Come on, baby! It’ll be fun!” Xenia placed the silver, sparkly halter up to her chest and spun around as if she were on ‘Dancing with the Stars’. “Besides, I start at the radio station soon and this could be my last time to get out and live it up for a while. I need time to get acclimated.”

  Saint sighed and leaned back on the headrest, propping his arms behind his head. He pressed his back further into the bedrail and stifled a yawn.

  “What about the kids?” he asked groggily.

  He still had a frog in his throat from his catnap a few moments earlier. The nap—he’d savored all seventeen minutes of it.

  “Already arranged. The nanny will be on duty this evening. She agreed, even though we only hired her for daytime hours. Very nice woman.” She winked at him from her reflection in the large, circular shaped mirror.

  “You got some serious cakes, little mama, damn.” He bit into his bottom lip, his cock rapidly extending and thickening as he took in her womanly shape.

  “Don’t start.” She snickered and rolled her eyes.

  “Little Debbie in the mothafuckin’ house! Or maybe it’s Sarah Lee. Regardless, I’m happy like mothafuckin’ Pharrell Williams ’cause my soul mate could have had just crackers.”

  “Crackers?!” She turned towards him, the slinky, shimmery top in her hand.

  How the fuck is she gonna fit that little ass top over those big ass titties?

  “Yeah…some mothafucka’s asses so flat, it look like damn tortilla bread, some flatbread crackers ’nd shit instead of cakes! Don’t you use baking soda or some shit to make cake rise? Or is it yeast? Shit, I don’t know, but I bet that would work for some of these flat asses I see around here. I could start a beauty healthcare line where women just rub a baking soda solvent on their asses and then sit out in the sun. I’d get a team of scientists to help me, get it FDA approved, Xenia!” He threw up his hands in exhilaration. “I’d be a billionaire!”

  “Saint! I’m so through with you!” She chuckled. “That’s what I get for asking. Anyway, come on, get dressed,” she said, snapping her fingers at him. “You agreed to go to this 70’s theme party Raphael invited you to. Come on now, it’ll be fun.”

  Saint rolled his eyes and angrily tossed the covers off his naked body, like a tiny child having temper tantrums. She shot him a threatening glance.

  “Don’t give me a filthy look unless you plan on gettin’ down and dirty, too…standing over there looking like Meagan Good with your eyebrow permanently up in the air. It looks like a Nike swoop…just do it.”

  “You are a regular ol’ smart ass tonight I see.” Xenia smirked and waved him off, then grabbed a stick of dark red lipstick from the dresser. She removed the silver and black lid and precisely traced her full, voluptuous lips. Saint smacked his own in appreciation. Reaching between his legs, he grabbed the base of his dick and pumped his hand. Xenia pretended to not see him, but her tight smile and deep forced concentration as she applied her mascara said it all.

  “Why don’t you get on this dick right quick…” he urged, his hips thrusting into the air. He was beyond the point of redemption… He craved her pussy, needed it wrapped around his cock.

  “We don’t have time… Stop procrastinating.”

  “Oh, we’ve got time.”

  “The kids are awake and playing downstairs!” she whispered, as if they could suddenly hear them.

  “…We already got the bedroom sound-proofed last week.” He patted the spot next to him, cast her a crooked grin, and winked at her. “Besides, this won’t take long, I know I have to hurry and besides, we have the cameras. We can see them.” He pointed to the side of the room where five black and white cameras showed activity in all areas of the house. “I promise to be fast.”

  “You always say that, and then twenty minutes later Isis comes banging on the door askin’ for us to come out and play with her!” She forcefully pulled a drawer open, retrieved an eyeliner pencil and yanked the cap off.

  “If I can’t fuck you, right here, right now, then we aren’t going to the party,” he said defiantly as he crossed his ankles and arms, a smug expression on his face.

  Yeah…that’s ho
w it’s going down, Xenia…

  It was hard not to laugh and keep his stiff upper lip, but damn it, he was going to try.

  “That’s blackmail, Saint.”

  “I don’t give a shit if it’s white mail, Asian mail or pin-the-tail on the mothafuckin’ donkey priority mail—you get your ass over here right now and let me get in them guts!”

  Before she could protest, he was on his feet, pulling her by her hips into his arms until she fell backwards with him onto the bed.

  “Ahhhhhh!” she squealed, still holding the eyeliner as he trapped her, wedging her between his thighs, her ass pushed into his groin. He snatched the pencil from her grasp and tossed it across the room, not giving a damn. “You aren’t right! You aren’t right, and you know it!” She continued to feverishly kick her legs, swing her bare feet in the air.

  He tugged at her robe, exposing her silky smooth shoulder, but she didn’t make it easy for him.

  “Saaaaaiiiinnnnnt! Ahhhhh!” She laughed, fighting him.

  Amid giggles, she frantically tossed and turned, getting clogged in the fabric as she twisted about, to and fro, slippery in his grip. He yanked a bit harder, joining her to him even closer in preparation to unwrap her the rest of the way. Folding his legs around hers, his thighs tightened around her frame. He kept her flush against his chest and draped his arm around her neck, making sure his prisoner couldn’t escape.

  “Ahhhh!” she squealed again, trying to break free, but her bucking and pushing did her no good.

  “All you’re doing is making me more excited.” He laughed. “Every time you move and fight me, your ass glides against my dick, and that shit feels good.”

  He reached between them, grazing his knuckles against her plush ass cheeks as he worked to reach his hungry cock. He gripped it with a smile and aimed it right at her now visible ass. Xenia continued to tussle between gasps of laughter, fighting him all the way. He removed his grip from her neck, but kept his legs wrapped around her as he gently pushed on her lower back, raising her just so to gain admittance inside of her pussy.

  “Uhhhhhhh!” he groaned loud, feeling the wet snugness he craved.

  She screamed, thrust her head back into his shoulder blade as he drove deeply inside of her during their modified reverse cowgirl position.

  “Oh God…” She closed her eyes and moaned deliriously.

  He watched their sensual dance in the mirror. They floated together, wrapped in a cluster of her half hanging silky robe and the satiny white bed sheets around their ankles. Their reflections in the mirror enhanced his excitement with each hard thrust.

  “Uhhhh, baby!” he called out before landing a kiss on the side of her neck. “Mmmm!”

  He grinded into her with full gusto, down and dirty, hating that they didn’t have much time, but…the children were running loose, though in no apparent danger. He took several ganders at the monitors…

  Besides, his baby wanted to get out, shake a tail feather amidst New York nightlife and damn it, he’d give her that… right after this nightcap.

  “Uhhhh!” Speeding up the pace, he slicked his hand over her pussy, opened the juicy, pink folds and overdosed on the sight. “Look at that fuckin’ pussy! So fuckin’ pretty! Uhhh!” He strummed his finger over her clit, up and down, around and around until he had the woman sighing and moaning against him, her ass burrowing in the pit of his stomach while he continued to jab deep within her. “I wish I had time to eat that sweetness! Damn! Uhhhh!” He grunted, finding an even faster rhythm that had his balls slap noisily against her flesh—so hard, she popped up and down like a ping pong ball on a paddle. She began to tremble as she gripped the sheets, her body slumping as she lost control. His cock streamed with her glistening juices as she came down his shaft; the nastily delicious scene propelled him forward, seeking what he could no longer fight a second longer.

  “I’mma cum, baby!” Throwing his head back in ecstasy, he exploded inside of her. “Ohhhh! Uhhhhh! Fuuuuucccck!” His eyes closed, he felt her small, warm hand land on his thigh, stroking him, comforting him as his body jerked. “Shit…” He exhaled and slumped on the bed, taking her with him, but he lacked the strength to keep his legs wrapped around her. “Damn…” Although he never wanted to let her go…

  “I’m free!” she teased as she sprang forward and darted towards their master suite bathroom. Before she got there she paused, a wicked look in her eye and the perfect smirk to match. “Thanks for the sex,” she said, winking.

  He nodded lazily in her direction, offering a weak smile as his cock continued to twitch and pulsate.

  “What are you wearing to the party?” she asked.

  He rolled his eyes, knowing he had to make good on his promise now.

  “I see you’re making me stick to my word. Hell if I know…” he slurred.

  “I thought you might say that, so I picked you up something. Check it out in our closet.”

  “Oh God!” He laughed. “What did you get me? An afro wig?”

  “No.” She giggled, now cupping her pussy, no doubt trying to keep his cum from dripping out of her onto the damn floor while her pelvic muscles clenched from laughter. “You’ll see.”

  “Can’t I just dress up as a nerd or something? I could wear glasses with tape in the middle.” He gave her a sexy wink and nodded, for his suggestion surely would be a crowd pleaser.

  “What? Saint, you are so lame! What does that have to do with the damn ‘70s?”

  “I could be a disco genius with a penis, baby… Wait, that is just me going as myself then.”

  This caused her to break into uncontrollable laughter.

  “Oops!” She put her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide, reminding him of Betty Boop.

  “Yeah, all that laughing…about to lose my load,” he teased. “What are you going as?”

  “You don’t listen to anything I say.” She grimaced and put her free hand on her hip. “Foxy Brown.”

  “Ohhhh yeah…” he rasped, salivating at the image her words conveyed. “You need to stay in costume after the party then. I’d love to fuck Foxy Brown…that’s going to be some good shit!”

  She stuck her tongue out then closed the bathroom door behind her. Saint looked over at their closet, as if a monster lay in wait inside. The same monster that Isis swore up and down was in her ultra-girly room when she fought going to sleep. Saint assured her monsters were afraid of the color pink, especially the fuchsia boa that hung over her tiny French white vanity.

  Begrudgingly, he got to his feet and stomped over to the closet. He snatched the door open and entered the elaborate room, set up just like a small boutique. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary at first. Then…he spotted it.

  “Oh….shit!” He burst out laughing at the sight—ran his fingertips over the material, causing the hanger to swing. “I can’t believe she expects me to wear this getup. Raphael is never going to let me live this down…”

  *

  The slightly spicy, sweet bourbon felt smooth going down. Koki tilted his glass to the left, rocking the ice cubes. His friends surrounded him in the room, while his large television blasted the basketball game. He could barely move from his position as books covered his person and a smooth, deep velvety voice rang in his ear, drifting from the earbuds plugged into his laptop. On his computer screen appeared a tall, debonair man who didn’t look terribly threatening. He was toned, but not exceptionally brawny; tall, but not overwhelming. The man’s jet black hair was similar to his own, only the man on the screen had a slight wave to his locks, which perfectly framed his light golden skin.

  I know how to deal with you now…

  Koki cracked a roguish grin as he placed the glass back up to his awaiting lips and took a robust mouthful. He set it back down on the table beside him.

  I know all about you, Saint Aknaten. In person reads are always better. I attempted to have that done but of course, you slipped away. Regardless, I like being prepared, having my ducks in a row, ya know?

  “Yeeees!” s
omeone screamed, leaping high into the air from their seat. Koki glanced slothfully at the television, then back at his computer screen.

  It’s only a matter of time now, Saint…just a matter of time.

  When he reached for his drink again, a few hardbound books tumbled to the floor from his lap. “The Black Vagina Vortex”, written by Dr. Saint Aknaten, opened up, landing on page 178. Koki twisted in his seat and placed his computer on the floor. He reached to pick it up, but paused when a passage in the book caught his eye:

  The love between a man and a woman is similar to the love between God and his favorite angel. Both the man and the woman play the role of God, and at other times, they both play the role of the angel. You see, God knows all, right? He is the Creator of the universe, and the air that we breathe. The Angel is the epitome of his perfection, and though our Creator does not worship or covet, surely he takes pride in his masterpiece, nevertheless…

  “Awwww, beautiful, Saint. That touches my fucking heart.” Cackling, Koki slicked his hand in his pants pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He looked lazily at the television and his crowded living room full of people as he waited for the person on the other end to answer.

  “Hello…”