Saint And Sinners: The King Angel Child of New York

by Tiana Laveen

  There’ve been times when Xenia hadn’t been in the mood for sex. Albeit a rare thing, it happened every blue moon, and he always respected her decision once she voiced it, made it clear…but this was different. The way her body moved away from him, made him feel like some walking perversion…as if he was violating her in some way, trying to force her to consent to his sexual whims…horrified him. He’d made love to the woman so many times, he knew her body like the back of his hand, even in the pitch dark. He knew when she was approaching orgasm, when she was turned on and when she wanted more. He knew when she was growing tired and didn’t have much more to give. He. Knew. His. Woman.

  And what he’d just witnessed was so unlike her. Xenia wasn’t a cruel, brusque, angry person. He wondered what secrets she was keeping, what would cause her to treat him that way. His imagination ran wild while he stood there, going through the motions, trying to make sense of it all.

  He was horny, angry, embarrassed and in love.

  It’s cool. She probably really is just tired. Besides, the move was kinda rough. I’m probably making a big deal about nothing. She’s just not herself right now—no need to make it more than it is.

  Opening the cabinet below their sink, he removed a bottle of lotion and sighed, as if an unwanted chore had to be taken care of, and in a way, it did. Standing there, staring at himself for a short spell, he yanked his navy pajama pants down, exposing his hard cock. It sprung forward, staring at the long mirror before him with its one eye as it hung over the basin. He looked down at it for a moment, as if to say, “I’m sorry it had come to this…”

  He then reached for the lotion bottle and pumped several creamy dollops into his hands before placing his palms together to warm them. Tilting his head back, he grabbed his shaft, glidied his hand up and down the damn thing with a need to relieve the pressure, frustration and build up. He wanted to make love, she didn’t want to, so…he resorted to what needed to be done so he could get some fucking sleep.

  “Mmmm,” he moaned as he held the base of his cock and ran his hand faster and faster over his thick rod. “Mmmm…” The sloshing noise of his lotioned hand wrapped around his cock grew more pronounced as he pumped his hips. He pushed more velvety lotion into his hand, quickly applying it, going right back to where he’d left off. In the mirror, his golden eyes slowly grew darker as he neared his climax. His eyes hooded, turned to slits as he groaned and shook.

  “Ughhh…” He worked it faster now, aiming it down towards the sink for it to catch the inevitable. “Ugh! Uh!” he grunted as the copious semen expelled quickly from the slit in the head, his hips thrusting wildly as he jeered forward. And then, it was over. In the course of their marriage, he’d never jacked off because his wife hadn’t given him any damn pussy. He’d only masturbated when she wasn’t around and he needed a release, or when he was out of town, and couldn’t reach her. Even the few times that the woman had been too tired in the past, she never made him feel less than, and he was able to go to sleep as if nothing bad or wrong had happened. But tonight, he could not. This time, anger and sadness had taken the lead… He needed his frustrations to go somewhere, anywhere, but stay inside of him.

  He cleaned up his sink, going over it meticulously, then washed his hands and dick and re-entered the bedroom. It was now almost completely dark. She’d turned off the light, but besides that, she lay just as he’d left her.

  “…Yeah, she’s just tired,” he mumbled to himself as he crawled into the bed next to her, feeling sorry for himself.

  He looked down at her sleeping form, afraid to touch her, tortured with the sight of her. His hand shook as it danced right above her shoulder, wishing to land it so badly, and pull her towards him. He wanted to hug her, to feel her warm breath as she slept against his chest. He wanted all of this, Lord knew he did, but he resisted. Instead, he, too, turned on his side, his back to her as he drifted off to sleep…

  *

  Xenia placed her foot on the cream leather stool to tie up the straps of her mauve heel. As she did so, she observed Florence leaving the house to take Hassani and Dakarai to school. Isis was simply along for the ride, allowing Xenia the time and opportunity to have a much-needed moment with her husband. She felt just awful about what had happened. The man had said little of nothing, which caused her insides to knot with worry. She didn’t know what got into her the evening before, but even as she looked at him, she almost didn’t recognize the man before her. He slowly walked passed her and headed into the kitchen, his light cologne lingering in the air, intermingling with his icy wake. She heard him opening cabinets and the refrigerator, then, all went quiet.

  “Saint,” she called out as she followed him in there to discover him sitting at the breakfast nook table, eating a bowl of granola cereal with coconut milk—his face practically immersed in the white ceramic bowl. “I want to…” she started, her hands fidgeting, her emotions a mess. “I want to apologize for last night. Well, this morning.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. When she looked back at him, he acted like she’d barely said anything of import. He simply nodded and brought another scoop of his breakfast into his mouth, administering delicate chews as he stared off into space.

  “I don’t know what was going on. I was tired…not feeling well I suppose,” she offered, trying to engage him in dialogue.

  “That’s cool…” he said around a mouthful of cereal and swallowed, still looking straight ahead as if she weren’t even there.

  “Come on, Saint! Don’t sulk. Baby, I said I was sorry.” She drew closer to him, forced her arm around his back and slowly stroked it.

  “Xenia.” He looked down at her and her blood almost froze mid-flow because with that one look, he made her feel smaller than a split atom. The man was done. Gone. Finished. “I said it was cool. I have to stop in the office and head to the airport.”

  She didn’t believe him. She knew that man’s eyes. When he looked at her, she could see the hurt inside of them, and the anger, too… On top of it all, the damn conference had completely slipped her mind.

  Oh shit! That’s right! He has that convention in Chicago tonight.

  “Saint, you can’t leave like this! I can tell you are still mad. I promise to make it up to you.” She gripped his chin, making him face her, look her in the eye and see that she was sincere.

  “Xenia, it isn’t the fact that you were tired and didn’t want to make love. I need to make that clear. It’s what I saw in your face this morning that really did me in.”

  “Saw in my face?”

  “Yes, your eyes to be exact. I looked at you while you did your hair and put your make-up on. Something is wrong and I’m just waiting for you to tell me… We’ve been at this too damn long to be playin’ games with one another!”

  “Whu…what?” She took a step back, placing her hand over her chest. “Saint, I don’t have any idea of what you’re talking about! I’m serious. What are you implying?”

  “I’m not implying anything, Xenia, but I know you. I know my wife almost better than my own damn self.” His brows dipped as he pointed at her. “You look at me as if you don’t want me… I’ve seen that look before.”

  “Saint, you have to be kidding me! That’s not true. This is nothing like what happened back then. I can’t believe this.” She crossed her arms, convinced he’d truly either gone crazy or he was taking the rejection way too far.

  “No, Xenia, I’m not kidding.” He abruptly stood and stormed past her, his footsteps harsh and pounding. She chased after the man, refusing for things to be this way, refusing to let the man she loved walk out the door like this.

  “Saint! What has gotten into you?!” she screamed as he grabbed his long, black coat, slid it on and began to button it up, his long fingers weaving in and out of the slots so fast, they were almost a blur.

  “Nothing, Xenia, nothing at all.” He glared at her. “You’re blocking, and you’re obviously mad at me about something. When you look at me, I see hatred towards me. I don’t w
ant to accuse you of anything… I don’t want to believe you’d do anything to betray our trust in one another but just tell me, are you fuckin’ someone else? You givin’ my pussy away to another mothafucka, right?”

  “How dare you!” She stormed up to him, fighting the urge to slap his damn face. Couldn’t he see how her heart was breaking? Couldn’t he see how troubled she was? She was as confused as he, but she surely didn’t hate the man! “I love you, damn it! How dare you suggest something like that? And I am not blocking you! I am completely open. Read me if you want! I don’t care! How could you insinuate something like that?!”

  He lowered his head, as if ashamed.

  “How horrible, how cruel!” She continued.

  She shook in her own skin until he grabbed her, bringing her to him with brute force. He ran his hand over her crown and nape, and rested his chin on the top of her head.

  “I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that, Xenia. That was wrong.” He rocked her back and forth in his strong grip. “It’s just…I don’t know, something about you, in your eyes, looks different and in my mind.” She heard him swallow. “I played back all of these different scenarios and possibilities, and…it scared me. You’ve never spoken to me that way before…and…shit, maybe I’m just seeing things. Maybe we are both really stressed out is all. I don’t know…but you didn’t deserve that. I shouldn’t have said that. I was wrong.”

  She nodded in agreement as he pushed away from her, then grabbed her and pressed his lips to hers, caressing her with his warm breath. But…she felt nothing. The man suddenly felt foreign—his lips didn’t set her on fire. The beautiful scent of his cologne didn’t make her pussy pulsate. His damn hair, the way it brushed against her cheek, didn’t make her crave him. His touch on her flesh didn’t send her into an inferno of lust. She had never—for as long as they’d been a couple—felt this way, not been turned on by her husband. The fucker was just too damn sexy to resist…

  Inside, she died with shame. Nevertheless, she fixed a wide smile on her face and hugged him back hard, compelling herself, giving an acting performance that she couldn’t risk screwing up. He lightly kissed her forehead.

  Please get off me!

  Her skin crawled now as he stood before her. He sickened her, and it took everything in her to stand there and keep smiling.

  “Baby, I really am sorry.” He smiled sincerely. “It’s just a little rough patch and I’m making a big deal about nothing. You’re entitled to have different moods. I acted like a child just now, and that wasn’t cool. Again, baby, I apologize.”

  “You don’t have to keep saying that, I know you are. And I am sorry about last night too, Saint, for how I spoke to you… That’s what started all of this. Anyway, when you get back in town, we’ll get it straightened out…maybe go for a romantic overnight trip, try to get things back on track.”

  He nodded as he stepped away and grabbed his laptop off the couch.

  “Great idea. That sounds perfect, baby. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, okay?” He smiled and winked at her as he walked backwards to the front door. “Wish me luck, baby.”

  “You won’t need it!” She laughed as she waved to him on his way out. When he closed the door, the sound echoed much like a bomb exploding within, erupting, tearing her apart. She stared at the door for a long while, in the silence, all alone. The house felt even more enormous, and it swallowed her as she wrestled and struggled inside. She fought the urge to cry—angry tears they would be, bred from confusion.

  “Oh my God, what’s going on?!” she said aloud as she played back in her mind how the man may as well have been some stranger off the street. He was Saint. Her husband, the man she adored, the man she was in love with. She couldn’t keep her hands off of him…and now, she hated the way his lips felt against hers. She wanted to vomit when his hands touched her flesh. Everything about him that had brought her so much physical and sexual joy was now a source of revulsion. He nauseated her…

  “Maybe…maybe I’m just coming down with something… Yeah, that could be it.” She sniffed, then marched back up the steps to their bedroom to finish dressing and drive to the studio. As she looked in the mirror and re-applied her lipstick, her hands trembled, and she messed the whole thing up.

  “Damn it!” She tossed the Mac lipstick on the dresser and looked down at her vanity, tears welling in her eyes.

  God please, help me. What is wrong with me?! What’s going on?!

  *

  Saint gripped his cell phone so tightly in his palm, he almost crushed it to bits. He waited a short while, the ringing getting on his fucking nerves until finally, Lawrence picked up.

  “Good morning, Saint. I can feel you, you know…”

  “That’s great, Lawrence. Then you should know that my wife isn’t feelin’ me at all…and I mean that in more ways than one.”

  “Oh, no. What’s the problem?”

  “Remember when you mentioned marital problems to me a while ago, when I was under hypnosis in your home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, batta boom, batta bing. It’s heeeeere! Sans the creepy horror movie music.” Saint laughed mirthlessly as he navigated the thick morning traffic, less than a minute away from work.

  “Oh shit, what happened?”

  “Hmm, yeah, that’s a damn good question. We kinda got into it this morning. It was one of the oddest arguments I’ve ever had with the woman. It made no sense whatsoever. Look, I’m about to come inside. Is the construction done on my floor? I don’t want to hear all that shit right now.”

  “Yes, there is no one on our floor working right now except one guy laying carpet in the conference room. Come on in; get parked. I’m coming to your office.” And then the call abruptly ended. In less than ten minutes, Saint was inside and the man stood in his office, sitting in front of him with his hands steepled together. Saint gave him the entire run-down, and even after repeating the shit, he still couldn’t make heads or tails of it.

  “Lawrence, something isn’t right. And by the way, it’s not like me to discuss my private life like this, but you warned me about this, so I had to bring it up. Please don’t discuss this with anyone. Let’s keep it between the two of us.”

  “Of course.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” He was so perplexed and exasperated. “On one hand, it feels like the woman is having an affair. She is completely disconnected from me. I’ve felt that from her before, after the whole Payton ignominy, so I recognize it. On the other hand, she didn’t appear to be lying to me either. She told me to read her, so I did, though I didn’t let her know I took her up on her offer. Man, she’s clean, not hiding a damn thing.”

  “And you say this started last night?” Lawrence asked as he leaned back in his seat.

  “Yeah. She and I had had great conversations on and off throughout the day yesterday. She was cheerful, frisky even. She flirted with me on the damn phone, I thought we were going to spend time with the kids, make love and chill last night after they went to bed… She seemed to be on top of the world. Then when I got home, she acted completely different, Lawrence. She was run down. So tired, I could see it in her eyes, so I told her to go on upstairs and take a break.

  “I watched the kids and got them ready for bed. I tried to initiate sex with her last night, but she didn’t budge, pushed me away. I didn’t think much of it; she was tired, right? Then I tried again a few hours later, this morning, and she actually became violent with me, Lawrence!” His chest heaved as he relived the horror. “She was acting like I was trying to attack her or something, trying to fuck her without consent or some shit! Like I’d ever force myself on her.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You have no idea how that made me feel, man!” He was hollering now, but he couldn’t control himself.

  “…I could imagine.” Lawrence casually crossed his legs. “Saint, you are rather upset and that is understandable. Are you going to be okay for the conference later on tonight?” It was obvious the man
was trying to keep from riling him up any further.

  “Yeah.” Saint ran a hand over his face. “We made up before I left but…”

  “But what?”

  “Something still didn’t feel right…like when I kissed ’er, man.” He paused and scratched the side of his jaw. “She was stiff, almost resistant. It was like…she… I don’t know. I just don’t know.” He shook his head in puzzlement. “Lawrence, it’s fine.” Saint waved him away. “Just uh, go on and take care of what you need to do. Can you lead the meeting today?”

  “Of course I can.” Lawrence slowly rose to his feet. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

  “No, thanks for listening to me, though. I need a second. I’m going to get ready to go in a few minutes. I’ll call you later though.” Saint looked down at his computer keyboard, feeling a bit defeated.

  “Okay, make sure that you do. Are you sure you don’t want me or Jagger to try to go to Chicago today with you? I can look at flights and—”

  “Nah, I’m good. You’ll be able to watch via satellite if you want.”

  “I will. Okay…” The man sighed. “See you later then.” Lawrence walked sluggishly to the office door, looked back at Saint, and left.

  His friend felt badly for him, hated how brokenhearted he was, how his marriage was impaired and couldn’t grasp what the hell was going on. One of Saint’s worst nightmares was coming true.

  His Queen didn’t desire him anymore…

  *

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Xenia sat on Traci and Jagger’s brand new snow-white couch. It had been ordered before they knew of her pregnancy, and though it was absolutely gorgeous, Xenia smirked on the inside knowing the damn thing would be destroyed with a baby running around their home…

  Still, even thoughts of a new infant to hold and babysit didn’t ease her mind, at least not more than a second or two. Deep in thought, she took a timid sip of her hot cup of tea her friend provided her, tapping her fingertips against it.