by Tiana Laveen
Home—her haven. One thing for sure, at least she had something great to come home to. Saint had been acting extra friendly, despite her inability to take care of her wifely duties. She soon realized why…that penny-colored-eyed fool wasn’t worth a damn! She seesawed between an assortment of sentiments, pleased that he had been so forthcoming about his experience at the museum, then angry with him at the same time—itching to curse him out to the moon and back. The whole mess became a wrestling match within her soul.
Being the man that he was, he of course had told her about the occurrence at the art gallery. He’d been so candid about it, not sparing any details. The whore’s name was Zaire…and the heffa was pretty…real pretty, and talented, too. Xenia had a mixture of emotions as she stared at him that morning over eggs and turkey bacon. Thankfully, the children were in their midst, for she’d have gladly broken every damn bone in his fucking body. It wasn’t fair, but she couldn’t help herself. Here, this gorgeous woman had approached his ass, and he actually considered fucking this bitch… No, that wasn’t just—her mind played tricks on her. He didn’t say that, but her heart heard it that way, nevertheless. Additionally, that woman wasn’t a bitch or a whore. In fact, she was honorable, unlike some of these hoes out here that would have said ‘fuck his marriage’ just to get their greedy little hands on him. Saint was fine as fuck, Xenia sure knew it, and the way he carried himself made him that much sexier.
Despite all of that, he didn’t do it; he didn’t give in to enticement. He said it was rather upsetting for him, for he thought he was better than that, stronger, but one thing Saint didn’t seem to understand, that she could see clearly in him as of late—he was weakening. The very reason he needed to make love to her before dealing with his cousin in Egypt was the very same because when he didn’t, he’d fall apart right before her eyes. Like now. She was his soul mate, and every time they made love, it recharged his battery.
Though the thought of the failed sexual encounter between them almost made her hurl, she had been determined to get through it, so he could get stronger once again. But, he’d said enough was enough, and thrown in the damn towel. This angered her to no end, because she knew then—not only would he continue to spiritually deteriorate, the man would be susceptible to other women. Xenia was no fool; she saw how these motherfuckers looked at her husband! Men and women would eyeball him on a constant basis. The women looked at the guy like he was some trophy…and he was, but he was hers. And the men many times mean-mugged, displeased with his presence that would turn the heads of their girlfriends and wives. This was one of the downsides of being married to such a handsome man. Saint wasn’t just nice to look at; he was physically stunning and the cocky bastard knew it. Xenia could carry her own, and her self esteem was not an issue, but Saint was almost pretty, and that, paired with his domineering ways and high intelligence, caused a strange lust that simply couldn’t be squelched.
This only fueled the fire within. Since she’d been forced into celibacy, her possessiveness in his regard grew to a destructive level. She wanted to know what he was doing, when he was doing it, and who he was doing it with, all… the… time. Although it didn’t make any sense and the man was true blue, her nerves were frazzled, and she was going through some shit! He asked her repeatedly to stop having him paged at the office when he was unable to answer his phone, but she simply couldn’t help it. She was frightened, losing her mind! She knew the man meant well, she knew he was struggling and trying, but Saint needed to be able to fuck! He required pussy, and he needed a steady, consistent diet of it. That was all there was to it. Eventually, if something didn’t give, she believed that, though he’d fought a good fight, he’d succumb. It could happen several years down the line, but everyone has their limits. He refused to admit such a thing, and he seemed adamant the ‘tree artist’ situation would not occur again. When he said it, he meant every damn word of it…but she also knew Saint from the inside out.
When they made love, all of those years, she could feel his intensity, his love pouring inside of her. The man would drill within her, as if he were trying to reach fucking China. He would pound, thrust, move his hips in ways that proved just how limber and talented the bastard was. That big dick of his would go full gusto within her as if he’d never had sex before a day in his life…as if it was a new experience, each and every time. All of that let her know that for Saint, sex was not merely a want, it truly was a need.
I’ve got to get to the bottom of this! I have got to find out what’s going on! But how?
Her heart rate increased as the warm, fuzzy feelings she just felt simply dissipated, giving way to worry, which took over for the umpteenth time that day. She was driving herself insane, making herself sick. This was so out of character, and…it proved emotionally exhausting.
I can’t be mad at him. He didn’t do anything wrong. He was confronted with a situation, and he handled it. Period. My problem is, what about the next temptation, and the one after that? How long is he supposed to endure this?! He doesn’t even get up to go in the bathroom and jerk off anymore. I just feel the bed shaking, and then hear him panting. At least he’s looking at me when does it though…
She smiled a bit at that. Saint had told her he wasn’t going to do it in private anymore. He wanted her to know that she was the source of his fantasies, so…if she wouldn’t mind, he wanted her to lie there naked, let him focus on her, preferably with her thighs wide open, as he brought himself to climax. Xenia figured it was the least she could do, and she even allowed him to ejaculate on her stomach or back a few times, though she immediately had to bathe, for she became queasy at the feeling of his cum all over her.
“Goodnight, Xenia!” one of the producers called out as she grabbed her purse, pushed the thoughts aside and made her way to the small lunchroom to retrieve her half eaten sandwich.
“Goodnight, Clark! See you tomorrow.” She smiled back, then made her way towards the elevator. Inside, she came face to face with several people who no doubt were in her same shoes… They just wanted to get home and unwind. As she exited the elevator, she saw a ‘Slippery Wet Floor’ sign on the ground, while a drab gray uniformed custodian made his way to and fro, swishing a bleach-smelling mop from side to side… And then, just like that, the memory of the large Hispanic man who’d tripped and fallen into her flooded her brain. The image of him tumbled to the forefront of her mind and she had the urge to pause, as if she was supposed to marinate on that thought for a bit. So, she stopped in her tracks. People whisked past her and grumbled as she impeded their path. It was like some odd epiphany.
Saint asked me if I’d seen a tall Japanese man that day, and I hadn’t. I’m pretty sure I would have recalled. I haven’t seen many Asian people in this building, period. But…I did see that overweight Hispanic guy.
She shrugged, not sure if she had anything substantial, but it was worth a shot. She wasn’t even certain why Saint had asked at the time, but it was as if he was trying to dissect her day, the one when her entire world changed. As she made her way to the parking garage, she sat in the driver’s seat and pulled out her phone.
“Oh, of course,” she muttered, smiling. “Of course he doesn’t pick up again… I know I’m getting on his damn nerves with my insecure ass.” She sighed and sat back as she waited for it to go voicemail. “I need to stop that shit. There isn’t anything cute about it and I know damn well he does not want another woman…but I’m scared of driving him away.”
Greetings, this is Saint Aknaten. I’m unable to answer my phone right now, but if you leave your name, number, the best time to reach you and a brief message, I will return your call at my earliest convenience. And remember, love is life, and life is love.
She heard the beep after his announcement.
“Hey baby, it’s me…but you probably already know that. I think I’ve called you like, twenty times today. I’m sorry, Saint.” She huffed and shook her head, upset with herself. “I promise to not do that anymore… I know you’re busy, it’s jus
t like some compulsion though.” She sighed. “You did the right thing by telling me what happened at the art exhibit, and now I know you might regret it, feel like you are paying for some shit you didn’t even do, all because you told me. You know I’m not usually like this. I hate that I’m like this right now!” She rubbed her forehead and grimaced, then slammed her closed fist on the steering wheel.
“Anyway, that’s not the reason I called. Remember when you asked me when this shit first started, if I’d seen a tall Japanese man that day? Well, the answer is still no, but I did have one incident with a Hispanic man whom I’d never seen before, or since.
“He bumped into me, ran right into my ass.” She chuckled. “He was on the elevator, and he tripped getting off it I believe. Then, before I knew it, I almost crashed to the ground. He was courteous though; he grabbed my purse and handed it back to me. Anyway, for some strange reason, I don’t know…I thought you might want to know. I have no idea if it will help or not with whatever you may have been cooking up, but, since it just came back to me, hell, why not tell you, right?” She laughed sadly. “Anyway, baby, I know you said you were working late tonight, and I promise to not blow your phone up… Give me a call when you can though. I love you, Saint. I love you so much!” She blew a kiss into the phone, then disconnected the call.
She sighed heavily, then started up the car.
“God, you’ve given me everything I ever wanted, and then some. And I know you’re thinking, here I am, asking for something else.” She sniffed as she cautiously backed out of her parking space, talking aloud. “Well, God, this time, I’m not asking you to give me something new. I’m asking that you just please restore what I already had.” She continued to pray as she made her way out of the winding garage, floor by concrete floor. “I was told that God loves it when husband and wife come together as one. I have not been able to do that with my husband in a long time, Lord. It makes me feel inept…insecure. God, it makes me feel a little useless.”
Her eyes watered as she continued to drive.
“I have a good man, a husband that I love the mess out of. He felt so bad about what happened, he confessed it to me, and now, I’m torturing him with it. He is honorable and has a beautiful heart. He doesn’t deserve this. God, this is not how it is supposed to be. Please tell me this isn’t how we end?!” Now the tears fell freely. “’Cause I love that man, God. You gave him to me! Why would you then turn around and let this happen to us? He wants to do the right thing, God, and I know every day is a struggle for him.” As she drew closer to the exit, she saw evidence that it had rained. The street had a thin layer of slickness, some of the storefront awnings shimmered with watery, reflective light and drops of rain fell from the back of moving trucks. Yet right at that moment, as she slid her I.D. card through the slot and waved at the attendant, the sun was trying its hardest to peek out.
“Saint doesn’t have a cheating bone in his body, but let’s be real here, I’m a realistic woman, okay, God?” She continued to have a heart to heart with her Creator, saying it loud and clear, airing her grievances. “Even Saint could fall at the feet of temptation if this continues on and on and on. He has needs, just like every other human being on this planet. And how fair is it to expect that man to never have sex again? I couldn’t do that to him! I’d divorce him before I make him suffer like that!” She sniffed. “But he already told me that I better not.” She laughed a bit as she wiped her tears and entered the thick cluster of traffic.
“He told me I better not file papers on him just because my pussy is closed down for renovations. Sorry God! I’m just quoting what he said… He’s so silly. Even in the midst of all this, that man still makes me laugh.” She grinned a bit wider now as she passed by tall, imposing buildings. “I’m just asking that you give both of us some relief. Please show me what I can do to fix this? We’ve tried so many things and nothing has worked, and he won’t make love to me despite how I insist, because he knows my heart isn’t in it. It makes me ill. He said he doesn’t want to make love, unless I want it as much or more than him—and not because I’m afraid he’ll cheat, but because I desire him… And I totally understand that…I get it.” She sniffed as she approached a red light.
“Lord, please!” She beat on her steering wheel as the tears poured like mad now. “Please! I’ll do anything! This isn’t just about sex; this is about the love a woman shows to her husband! This is about my marriage! The marriage I dreamed of! This is about my family! Our children need to see their parents happy, not struggling! We have to be the example to them. God, pleeeaaaase help me!” She was falling apart at the seams, right then and there, afraid she wasn’t being heard, that the Lord had placed her on mute, or worse yet, ignored her call altogether, just like Saint had begun to do. Her heart ached so badly, the pain she felt was leaving her breathless as her crying threatened to choke her, cut off her voice.
“I’ll do anything! Anything, Lord! I’m begging you! And I love that man so much…that if…if you tell me I gotta leave him so he’ll be happy again, I will! I don’t want to, but…” Her running mascara stung her eyes. “But I will, because I love Saint just that much! Lord…my world has crashed! Please help me fix it!” She looked over to her right, and took note of a woman staring at her through all her antics. She didn’t even care—just glared back at the blond, whose lips stood ajar as she eyeballed Xenia, as if she were some circus-tent living freak. Xenia turned away and looked up to where the minister at her old Sunday school told her God lived… She glanced up at the sky, and burst out into an almost maniacal laugh when a strange, comforting warmth came over her. There, partially hidden behind a tall building with colorful flags waving to and fro representing many countries around the globe, appeared a beautiful, vibrant rainbow. She’d never seen one with colors so brilliant—and how amusing that it happened in smoggy Manhattan.
Could this be a sign from her Creator…that everything would be okay, turn out all right in the end? Could it be that hopefully, she could see enough of the solution to have restored faith in herself, her marriage, and most importantly, her very own Rainbeau?
In that moment, she recalled a scripture her grandmother had kept tucked away inside her Bible on a slip of cream-colored paper. Xenia remembered every word and recited it aloud as the tears came down a bit slower now, a smile stuck to her face like honey.
“Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding…Proverbs 3:5”
“Yes, Grandma, that is so true… I remember another scripture in Genesis, too; it went something like, ‘I have placed my rainbow in the clouds. It is the sign of my covenant with you and with all the earth.’”
Yes, I understand now, Lord…I understand…
*
“Lawrence, I can’t believe you would do something like this. I told you that in confidence!” Saint screamed like a banshee as he pointed to the Native Indian man standing before him. The fucker’s long black hair swayed as he jeered back while Saint slammed his office door closed, trapping the two of them inside like imprisoned combatants.
“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” Lawrence said, sounding miffed.
“I just spoke to Jagger out in the hallway, and he tells me, ‘Sorry about you and Xenia. That explains why you’ve been so cranky at work.’”
“And you just assume that I told him, huh?” Lawrence pointed to himself, his eyes glinting. “Well I didn’t!” Lawrence threw up his hands. “Maybe he read you, did you consider that?!”
Before Saint could respond, his door swung open once more, and there Jagger stood clutching his cell phone in one hand and a pad and paper in the other.
“We need to talk about this case,” he said on a heavy exhale as he stormed past both men and plopped in one of the over-stuffed chairs in front of Saint’s desk, completely oblivious to the shit storm he’d flown into.
“How’d you find out about me and Xenia?” Saint didn’t waste another second trying to get to the bottom of
this breach of trust. He wanted to find out who turned his ass in, made a fool of him, spread his business like smooth peanut butter on a cracker.
Jagger hesitated for a moment, then placed the pad of paper on Saint’s desk, his expression turning sheepish. “…Traci.”
“I’ll wait for my apology,” Lawrence said calmly as he, too, took his seat beside Jagger, and crossed his legs, his head held high in an imperial fashion.
“So that’s what your wife does, hmmm? Tell you all my personal business? That was supposed to be a private discussion between Xenia and Traci, not Xenia, Traci and Jagger.” Saint simpered as he walked over to his desk and banged his ink pen down on the damn thing, causing it to bounce and land on the glossy, cherry wood floor.
“Look, women talk, okay?” Jagger said matter-of-factly, a stupid grin on his face. “That night Xenia was over at my place, they confided in one another.”
“Oh, that’s funny, because I don’t recall hearing any gossip about you, Jagger,” Saint snapped, sitting back in his seat and folding his hands over his stomach. “And my wife talks for a living!”
“Look, I’m sorry about what’s going on, okay? But don’t take that shit out on Lawrence and me. We are your friends, we didn’t do anything!”
“Why doesn’t Traci concentrate on taking a damn cooking class instead of spreading my business around?! Buy a damn cookbook and study that shit, that’s what the fuck she can do!”
“I otta punch you in the fucking face!” Jagger roared as he rose from his seat.
“Saint, stop it. Jagger, sit down. He didn’t mean it,” Lawrence calmly interjected.
Jagger calmed a bit, and returned to his chair. “We only want what’s best for you and your behavior around here this week has been completely out of control,” he explained.
Saint rolled his eyes and turned away, dismissing Jagger as he often did as of late.
“You can look that way if you want, but it’s true. Everyone is talking. You are awfully irritable, you yell and scream and work all the time now, as if you’re afraid to even go home. I have no idea who you thought you were fooling. It is obvious something is seriously wrong… You were blocking me, too. Now it all makes sense.”