by B. M. Hardin
He didn't have a single quality that I wanted in a future spouse; but he had exactly what I wanted for the time being...money.
All of my morals and all of the little things on my list went flying out the window whenever I saw a chance at stability; or whenever I thought that I had even the slightest chance at love…or at least something like it.
To this day, I still don’t know why Ricky approached me that night, over all of the other horny, naked, tooth pick sized women that were throwing themselves at him.
But at the sight of me, he held up his finger to the bartender and headed in direction.
I was surprised.
I wasn’t one of those slim and trim, water drinking, no meat---only lettuce eating, type of chicks.
Nor was I one of those women that made mouths fall open from being shaped like a Coca-Cola bottle…not at all.
I was more like two or three of those bottles...put together.
I had curves; the kind that you couldn’t get rid of.
You know, the kind that could only be inherited; not the ones that could be sculpted…yep, those ones.
I had more than my share of breasts and booty and I had the triple D cup bra size and the double digit panties to prove it.
So, no, that night I hadn't been the slimmest woman in the crowd; but I was definitely the only woman in sight acting as though I had any kind of home training or any sense.
Although, in all actuality, and I’m just being honest; I was just like them.
My execution was just a little different.
I was a lady first and I had class; which meant that I wasn't overly thirsty for attention, well; at least I didn't show it.
I wasn't rubbing or grinding all over him; and I wasn't half naked either... all of my rolls were covered up.
Mama always reminded me that you could still be sexy…with your clothes on; that way, the man knows that he has to put in a little extra work to see what you were hiding underneath.
Though I'd remixed her little saying to make it work for me; it still worked just as well.
They could see what was underneath alright; as long as the price was just right.
So, basically, I was a respectfully, and might I add, tastefully dressed, classy hoe…well, more or less.
And I’m just keeping it real.
But the main thing was that I now had Ricky's interest...I could handle the rest.
Believe me, I was more than flattered that he chose the dark skinned big girl, over all of those typical light-skinned, long haired women.
So that night, of course, I gave him my undivided attention.
And to this day, that was one of the biggest mistakes that I'd ever made in my entire life.
For the next few months, Ricky wined and dined me, and before I knew it, a year had passed and we were standing at the Justice of Peace...getting married.
To be honest, I wouldn’t say that I was ever madly in love with him; but I loved him enough.
And that was enough; at least I thought it was.
Of course, I was aware of his lifestyle but it had never caused us any problems and Ricky assured me that it never would.
He promised me that I would always come first…and like a dummy…I believed him.
But after we said I do, everything changed.
Ricky went from being sweet and charming; to downright hateful and disgusting.
He had gone from polite and respectful, to the most disrespectful man on the planet Earth.
Suddenly, Ricky was cruel, rude and obnoxious; all the time---and all at the same damn time!
He would embarrass me in front of his friends, cheat on me without so much as an apology and at times he would even attempt to put his hands on me…major mistake!
Mama didn’t raise no fool…or no personal punching bag, and if nothing else I made sure that he'd known that much.
He would hit me...and I would hit his ass back!
Apparently, Ricky wasn’t as dumb as he looked.
He knew that physically, he would have himself a fight, so he was smart enough to pick and choose his battles.
But physical abuse was just one type of abuse.
The mental and emotional abuse that he continuously threw my way, was far worse than any punch or slap in the face on any given day.
Somehow, Ricky managed to make me feel like I was nothing every single time that I was in his presence.
So, here’s the million dollar question…why didn’t I leave him?
Hell, you tell me.
A part of me always hoped that things would get better, or at least go back to the way that they used to be.
The other part of me just didn’t want to go back to being all alone.
For the life of me, I tried to salvage my marriage and uphold my vows, but no matter how hard I tried, things never changed.
For almost two years, they stayed the same.
And then one day, just as I was starting to get enough courage and nerve to walk away; something amazing happened…
Ricky was dead.
I would be lying if I said that I didn't feel a thing and that I wasn’t at all sad or hurt…
I was...in a way.
But as Ricky and his charcoal black casket made their way into the ground, my heart skipped a beat, from excitement and in the inside, I secretly smiled…
I was free!
Ain’t God good?
Ding, dong that wicked dirt bag was dead!
Yeah...it's as bad as it sounds.
But I was so happy that he was gone.
Hell, I wanted to throw myself a Happy Widow party, but I decided that it would have been just a little bit rude.
So, I simply celebrated in silence and in secret.
Ricky was a horrible husband when he was alive, but he made one hell of a decent one once he was gone.
He didn’t have a 401 k plan or an insurance policy or anything like that; but he did have three cars, not including mine, a house that was paid for and a safe with over $200,000 in it.
So, after burying him the cheapest way possible, I sold everything except my car.
I didn’t want anything to remind me of him or the torture that he'd put me through.
Almost two months after his death and after it was all said and done, I took the money and got as far away from my past as I possibly could.
That's how I ended up here.
I left the only place I’d ever known; Arlington, Texas, and settled thousands of miles away, way down in the country parts of South Carolina.
I didn’t know a soul and with almost half a million dollars, I bought a small, cozy house for little of nothing and focused on making a better life for myself.
All I wanted was a fresh start.
All I needed was a clean slate.
I was only twenty-eight years old then, and I had plenty of time to turn my life around and become the woman that Mama always wanted me to be.
No one knew me, no one would judge me.
I vowed to pretend as though my past never existed; as though none of it ever happened.
So, to this day, I'd never mentioned any of it, to anyone---ever.
Though then, I didn’t exactly need the money, Mama always said that an idle mind was the Devil’s playground, so I got lucky and I found a small counseling job.
Funny isn’t it; I was giving advice and encouragement to someone else, when I desperately needed it for myself.
I was so heart broken, lost and confused.
I needed someone to be there for me; but I didn’t have anyone to talk to.
There was no one to tell me that things were going to be okay or to give me hope for the future.
And then it hit me.
One morning I got up, got dressed and my car led the way to a big white church only about a mile away from my house…and that’s the day that my life was changed forever.
That's how I ended up at the church.
And that's how I ended up here.
Now, I
was married to a Pastor; a wonderful man of God, who treated me like I was nothing less than pure gold.
I had a beautiful daughter, and I was surrounded by some of the most loving people that God had ever created.
I was now on the right path.
I mean, aside from a few secrets from my past, a little cursing here and there, and tad bit of wine sipping every blue moon, I was darn near a saint.
I made one pretty good Pastor's wife, if I must say so myself.
For the first time ever; life was good.
“You preached one heck of a sermon today Pastor Cartwright,” I smiled at my husband as he leaned over to peck my lips.
Church was finally over and Shelton's first stop was me, on the front pew; just like always.
“Well, thank you Mrs. Cartwright,” Shelton responded sarcastically, or maybe he was being just a little bit cocky.
Blame it on my degree in Psychology, but I was almost certain that there was another side to my husband that I had yet to see or one that I would never get to know.
It was just something about him.
Something about Shelton was just so dark and mysterious, that I often wondered about his life before he started preaching the Gospel.
It was just the way he said certain things, or maybe it was the way that he reacted to certain situations…before his man of faith would step in the way.
I was sure that he had a temper problem; though he made it his business to never let me see it.
I was sure that he had anger issues; but he was very good at hiding them.
And though it may not mean a whole lot to mention this, but I was at least 80 percent sure that at some point in time or at some period in his life...Shelton had been a porn star---or hell, a male stripper or something.
The way he made love to me just didn't seem normal; not for a Pastor that is.
It was rough; it was dirty.
It had street, hood, thug---something, written all over it.
I couldn’t quite put it into words, but it surely didn’t say a man of the cloth.
Granted that even Pastor’s have a past, and that most of them are sinners for quite some time, before they turned into saints, but my husband, Shelton, acted as though he was born with a Bible in his hands.
He never, ever wanted to talk about his past.
It was almost as if he’d tried to erase it or delete it; just as I had done with my own.
Oh, and don’t let me start asking questions; Shelton would get a real bad case of amnesia…real quick.
Let him tell it, he was the same man that he had always been; but I wasn’t buying it.
Still yet, no matter how many questions I asked him; he refused to go into detail about anything in his past other than stories about being a orphan and foster child.
“What do you want for dinner?” I asked Shelton, as we continued to greet other members of the church.
The church had every bit of five hundred active members, if not more, and they absolutely adored him.
The members were trustworthy and dependable and they were the closest thing that either of us had to family.
There was nothing that they wouldn’t do for their Pastor, and Shelton spent every day showing them his appreciation.
He was so dedicated to the members and to the church more than I could even explain.
On most days, I was more like his side chick; and the church was his main thang.
I swear the church and I always seemed to be battling for that number one spot in Shelton’s life.
Needless to say, most of the time...I lost.
But I’d rather have a God fearing man, spending his time in church, any day, versus a man that spent most of his time in the streets.
Some days, though it had been years, it was still hard to believe that I was a Pastor’s wife.
Mama would have been so proud of me.
Never had I imagined that this is where I would end up; but this is where I was.
And this was where I would always be.
Shelton shrugged his shoulders as the answer to my question and then followed his gesture with a small smirk.
He was always so difficult, but I wouldn’t trade him or my life with him, for anything else in this world.
And that---was a fact.
After arriving at our home, only a block away from the church, Shelton undressed and he and our daughter, scampered outside for some sunlight and fresh air.
I laughed aloud as I watched them from the kitchen window.
Our baby girl, Mackenzie, had just learned to walk, and she wobbled toward Shelton.
It took awhile, but she finally reached him, just before falling into Shelton's open arms. Shelton’s face lit up as bright as one of the stars that had led the slaves to freedom.
He kissed her as both of them collapsed onto the ground.
It was barely Spring, but the sun was definitely making its presence known.
Glancing out at them one last time, I headed to the refrigerator to figure out what we were going to have for Sunday dinner.
Here, unlike in Texas, Sunday dinner was a big thing; it was everything.
It was the one day of week that these country women decided to pull out all of their cooking secrets and make their finest dishes.
Though I was always top notch in the kitchen, the Mothers of the church had done their share of teaching me some of their famous recipes.
I'd put my own twists to them; and now they were just a little bit better.
Just as I'd placed the chicken breasts in warm water, the house phone began to ring.
“Hello?”
“Hello, is Pastor Shelton available?” the voice asked on the other end of the phone.
The voice didn't sound familiar, so I asked for a name.
The caller stuttered and then called himself John; but he and I both knew that John wasn’t his real name.
“Shelton...telephone!” I screamed from the kitchen window.
I heard the caller curse saying the word damn.
I guess maybe I could have muted the phone before I screamed.
But one thing was for sure; just from his comment; this John fellow, most likely wasn't a Pastor.
Shelton hurried inside and handed Mackenzie off to me.
“Hello,” Shelton responded after he kissed my cheek.
I settled our daughter into her feeding chair, though my focus was still on my husband.
I noticed that he was still standing in the same spot, somewhat frozen and in silence.
All of a sudden, he appeared to be rather tensed.
Shelton breathed heavily but said nothing. Now that was a first.
Shelton was always talking; and I do mean always...even in his sleep.
I had never heard him, or seen him so quiet, and from the look on his face, though he desperately tried to hide it; I could tell that something was wrong.
Shelton noticed that I was staring at him; which seemed to make him even more uncomfortable.
And with that, Shelton excused himself from the kitchen, with no words, only a look and a slight nod.
Hmm…who was that?
~**********~
~Life will always be exactly what it’s meant to be. Never be afraid to try something new. Never be afraid to try again~
Anonymous
Chapter Two
“Maxine? Maxi, are you awake?” Shelton whispered.
Am I awake; really, did he just ask me that question?
After all, who could sleep with a ten inch pole piercing them in the lower part of their back?
Not saying a word, I continued to lie still, though I knew that he was going to take what he wanted anyway.
I didn’t mind being intimate with my husband. Actually, in the words of the old folks...it was the best thing since cooked crack.
But, seriously, I always had to prepare myself mentally, and physically; before I went there with Shelton.
Before him, I used to think that I was every man’s we
t dream in the bedroom; at least that was how most of them would react to my sex or make me feel after I blessed them with my goodies.
But not Shelton.
He was a monster between the sheets, and for any trick that I thought I had; he had something better.
As I said, his sexual side just didn’t quite match him as a person and definitely not as a Pastor.
The sweet, humble and caring man that he was on a day to day basis was nowhere in sight when it came to getting down…with the get down.
Behind closed doors, the bedroom door particularly; Shelton was a completely different man.
He was aggressive, controlling and even a little bit scary at times.
He was always so gentle and humble, but in the bedroom, Shelton wanted to bend me, flip me, tackle me, smack me; hell anything he felt like doing in the heat of the moment.
There were so many times that I wanted to stop him right in the middle of it all and ask him:
Fool, have forgotten that I’m team big girl?
I mean, I’m just saying!
But Shelton could have probably cared less.
As he tugged on my panties, I internally gave myself a little pep talk for the sexual beating that me...and my Gangsta' were about to endure.
After a few more seconds of panty fondling, Shelton ripped them clean off at the sides, almost causing me to jump in fright.
Uh oh, here we go.
With my back still toward him, I still remained silent; not because I thought he would give up...I knew that he wouldn’t.
But at least by staying quiet, it would give me just a few more minutes of foreplay and a chance to get my mind right.
As his hands roamed freely, hungrily all over my body, his fingers eventually found their way to my clitoris and he began to nibble on my ear.
Darn it...now, he know that that's my spot!
“Maxi,” he whispered again between light kisses and sucks.
Though I tried to fight it, I was becoming more and more aroused by the seconds and my most prized possession began to effortlessly and disobediently, release her sweet juices, soaking Shelton’s fingers with pure evidence of my arousal.
Unable to keep my quiet streak, a small moan escaped from my lips without my permission.