The First Lady

by Carl Weber

  16

  MONIQUE

  It was around 10:30 p.m. when the bishop called me from the New Jersey Turnpike. When we’d spoken earlier, he said he wanted to stop by and talk to me, but I had just about given up on him by the time his call came in. He was a little more than an hour away from Queens, he explained, after dropping off someone’s child in Washington, D.C. I didn’t bother asking whose child it was, because he was always doing things like that, helping out friends and members of the church. Besides, I was more interested in the fact that he asked if it was too late to stop by and talk. With a smile so big, I was sure he could see it through the phone, I told him it was never too late.

  He didn’t go into any detail other than to repeat that he wanted to speak to me before I left for my sister’s place in Mississippi, but I could tell from his voice that he was stressed and probably a little tired from the drive. No problem. I knew exactly how to fix that.

  I hung up the phone and went down to the kitchen, taking out the pork chops I’d purchased earlier in the day just for this occasion. Him coming by much later than expected was actually a good thing. Despite everything that had happened the night before with Trustee Forrest and his wife, I had reason to believe he wasn’t really coming over to talk. I hoped he was coming over to make love to me. Why else would he insist on coming over to my place so late? If he wanted to tell me he had to stop seeing me because of the church rumors, he could have done that over the phone. Calls at this time of night were usually only meant for one thing, a booty call, and I would be more than happy to oblige. Preacher or not, I knew he would come around sooner or later. I hadn’t met a man yet who could resist me. We would just have to be a little more discreet.

  Once I finished cooking the pork chops and fried some apples, I had about a half hour until the bishop’s arrival. I went upstairs, took a shower, combed my hair, and made my face, then I slipped into my favorite black teddy and matching satin robe. When he showed up at my door, I planned on giving him something to look at—well, actually, I planned on giving him a lot more than something to look at, but that would come after my pork chops. No man should be forced to make love on an empty stomach.

  When my doorbell rang, my heart was beating so fast, I thought it was going to come out of my chest. Something told me tonight was the night that I was finally going to make love to Bishop T.K. Wilson. I couldn’t believe how excited I was, like a teenage girl about to lose her virginity with a cherished boyfriend. I couldn’t wait to have him in my arms.

  I opened the door, and the bishop glanced at my black teddy, swallowing hard. He was so mesmerized by my outfit that he did a double take, tripping over the threshold as he walked through the door. He was having such a hard time trying not to look at my satin-covered breasts that it took him a few seconds to gather his composure.

  “Sor … sorry to be … stopping by so late, Sister Monique,” he managed to say while he kept sneaking glances at my scantily clad body. “But I really needed to talk to you.”

  How cute. He was still trying to pretend that he was only here to talk. These churchpeople sure had him paranoid. “No problem, Bishop. You can stop by anytime you like. Why don’t you have a seat in the living room?” I led the way, of course, to let him enjoy the view. He followed me into the living room.

  “Have a seat. Can I get you a cold beer, Bishop?”

  He shook his head as he sat down. “No. I’m not going to be here long. I know you have to catch a flight in the morning, and I just wanted to talk to you before you left.”

  “And I wanna talk to you, too, Bishop, but it’s going to have to wait because I have a surprise for you.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “A surprise?”

  I stood in front of him, just out of reach, and his eyes roamed over my body, stopping at my bare thighs. For the first time that I could remember, he didn’t even attempt to hide his gaze. The sexy way he looked me up and down made my nipples hard and my insides moist. I could tell he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

  “Yes, a surprise.” I teased him by closing the robe over my teddy to conceal my cleavage. “Have you eaten?”

  “No, I was going to pick up something on the way home.”

  “Well, I knew you were going to be hungry when you got here, so I made you some dinner.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Sister Monique, but I really think we should talk first.” His eyes stayed on my face now. He was trying to get serious on me, and for a minute it cramped my style, but then I regained my confidence. He might try to pretend he didn’t want me, but I wasn’t having it. This was my last night in New York for a while, and things were going to go the way I had planned.

  “We’re going to talk, Bishop, but not until after you’ve eaten my pork chops and fried apples.”

  “Pork chops and fried apples?” His eyes lit up almost more than they had at the sight of my flesh. It was as if I’d just introduced him to Jesus Christ. There was something about that man and pork chops that was almost scary. “I thought I smelled something good when I walked in your house.” Long gone was the serious face, replaced by a big grin.

  “No, Bishop. That would be me that smells good.” I chuckled.

  “You always smell good, Sister Monique,” he said coyly. “But I was talking about something edible.”

  So was I, I thought. Something you could eat all night long.

  I stopped my little fantasy because I was getting off track. “So, are you hungry or am I going to have to throw those pork chops out?”

  “Noooo, don’t do that, Sister,” he protested. “We don’t want those pork chops to go to waste.”

  “Good. Then follow me.”

  He stood up and I turned slowly, walking toward the dining room, knowing his eyes were like laser beams on my swaying hips. I flicked on the light, revealing a platter of pork chops, fried apples, and a small ice bucket with three Heinekens in it. The table was set for one.

  “Aren’t you going to eat, Sister?”

  “No, Bishop. I made this all for you. Now, make sure you drink that beer with your pork chops. Fried apples, pork chops, and ice-cold beer is a Mississippi delicacy.” I pulled out his chair. “Now, you sit down and eat while I go get the second part to my surprise.”

  “A second part?” I couldn’t tell from his expression if he was nervous or eager, but I chose to believe he was looking forward to more surprises from me.

  “Trust me, Bishop. Just like the pork chops, you’re going to love the second part of my surprise.” I took the serving fork and placed two pork chops and some apples on his plate; then I popped opened one of the beers, pouring it into a glass. “Enjoy. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “How could I not?” He picked up his fork and knife and started to eat. I just hoped that when we made love, he would be just as enthusiastic, because he looked like he was in seventh heaven when he ate my pork chops.

  About fifteen minutes later, I walked into the dining room and stood behind the bishop’s chair, then began to massage his shoulders. His muscles were tight, a telltale sign that he was nervous about what I was doing, but you would have never known it from his words.

  “Sister Monique, your hands are like magic. That feels so good. My wife used to massage my neck like this after a good meal.”

  I gave him an even deeper massage, and I could feel his body begin to relax. His muscles felt so good in my hands. “You’d be surprised at things I know how to do to make a man happy, Bishop.”

  He didn’t respond, but he also didn’t become tense at my obviously suggestive words. Well, that was a good start, I thought as I watched him swallow what was left in his glass. He’d finished off four pork chops, most of the apples, and drank two beers. “You know, I must say these pork chops were so good. And you’re right, they do go good with a cold beer.”

  “Why, thank you, Bishop. Why don’t you finish the last one?”

  He reached for the last bottle, then pulled his hand back. “No, no, I better not. I still ha
ve to drive home. But before I leave, there’s something we need to discuss.” He reached up and stopped the massage, then cleared his throat like he had something important to say. “Sister Monique,” he began, turning his head to look at me.

  I walked to his side and posed to reveal my second surprise. The bishop stared at me in disbelief. While he was eating, I’d gone upstairs and changed into a pink dress. It was conservative enough to hide my cleavage but showed off enough of my figure to still attract a man’s attention. I highlighted the whole ensemble with a pair of pink shoes and a pink-and-white hat. It may not have been my style, but you couldn’t tell me I didn’t look good.

  “Well, what do you think? I told you I had a surprise. Could you take me to church if I wore this?”

  He stood up, nodding his head. Aside from the appreciation in his gaze, I could tell from his eyes that the bishop had a little bit of a buzz. This was good, because as much as I knew he wanted me, he was the type of man who needed a little loosening up. He was also the type of man who needed to protect his reputation, so I would have to make the first move.

  “The way you look right now, I would take you anywhere. You look beautiful.” He said it so sincerely, it made me feel warm inside, and if I’d had any reservations before about my next move, I no longer did. I stepped up and kissed him gently on the lips.

  “I just wanted you to know that I heard you loud and clear last night. I understand that if I wanna be with you, I have to at least appear to play their game. I’m willing to do that, but I want you to know that I’m still me underneath.” I reached back, unzipping the dress until it fell forward, revealing my black teddy, this time without the robe.

  The bishop took a deep breath, knowing it was time to make a decision. He was either going to walk out the door or take me to my room and make love to me. And I was going to do everything in my power to entice him to stay. I stepped forward and reached up, placing my hand behind his head and pulling him toward me. Neither of us said a word, and before long, our lips met. I slid my tongue into his mouth, and he met it eagerly with his own. When our kiss broke, I was out of breath, but somehow I was able to mumble, “I want you, Bishop.”

  I waited a moment for him to give me an answer. God only knows what was going through his mind, but I was actually getting a little impatient. I wanted him, but even more, I wanted him to want me. He just wasn’t moving fast enough. Too many people think that love is about friendship, communication, and respect, but my momma didn’t raise no fool. No man can truly love a woman unless he’s sleeping with her, and I wanted him to love me, so I said it again. “I want you, Bishop.”

  “I want you too,” he finally whispered. “God forgive me, but I want you too.”

  He lifted me up, and I melted into his strong arms. He carried me into the bedroom, our lips still locked together, then gently laid me down on my bed and began to undress.

  17

  BISHOP

  Have you ever had a dream that was so good, you wanted to just close your eyes and go back to it? Well, that’s how I felt as I clutched my pillow with my eyes shut tight. I just wanted to get back to my dream of making love to Monique. I knew it was lustful and wrong, but it was so doggone good and felt so real that I wanted it to continue forever. I lay with my eyes closed for a moment, mulling over the idea of being with Monique for real. If she were anywhere close to being as good in bed as she was in my dream, it just might be worth losing my church over.

  Okay, that was the devil talking, not me. I would never risk my church, no matter how tempting she might have been.

  I took a long whiff into my pillow, savoring Monique’s scent. The dream had been so vivid I could actually still imagine her perfume as if it were real. I inhaled again, and as my mind entered full consciousness, I froze in shock. My eyes flew open, and a chill ran through me, reality hitting me head-on like a Mack truck. The scent I’d been savoring was real. My dream was not a dream at all, but reality.

  I turned over cautiously and looked around the room, and my fears were confirmed. Not only had I slept with Monique, but I also was still in her bed. A wave of panic overtook me.

  “Father, what have I done?” I asked out loud, trying to ignore the lustful memories of Monique and me making love that were flooding my head one after the other. My mind and body knew exactly what I had done, and they were trying to overrule my heart, which was burning with guilt and shame now. I placed my hands over my eyes and dropped my head, hoping to will away the visions.

  Eventually, I lifted my head and glanced about the room nervously, my gaze finally resting on the empty space where Monique had lain naked in my arms when we drifted to sleep. She was no longer there, and I was glad. I wouldn’t have known what to say to her if she were. On her pillow was a note. I picked it up and read it:

  Dear Bishop,

  I know you said to call you T.K. from now on, but it’s going to take a while to get used to. To me, you’ll always be the bishop, even though you’re my man. I would have loved for you to awaken to a plate of my hotcakes and handrolled sausage, but as you know, I had to be at the airport early in order to catch my plane to Mississippi. You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn’t want to wake you. But not to worry, I’ll make it up to you. I’m sure we’ll have plenty more chances for me to make you breakfast in bed.

  If you couldn’t tell from my screams of pleasure, last night was the most wonderful night of my life. I’ve never had a man make me feel the way you did. I didn’t think it was possible. I just hope in some way I made you feel just as good as you made me feel. I realize it’s going to be a while before we can show others our true feelings for each other, but I’m willing to be patient because this is something I truly want. When I return, the church is going to see an entirely different me, but when I’m with you, I’ll always be myself. (Wink, wink.)

  Keep me in your prayers because you’ll be in mine. I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.

  Love,

  Monique

  I put down the letter with a guilty sigh. Monique was already making plans for our future, but I couldn’t imagine myself ever moving beyond the incredible turmoil I felt right now. I tried again to push the thoughts of our lovemaking out of my mind, but my manhood wouldn’t allow me. I could still feel the effects Monique’s body had on me. My heart was stuck on the idea that I was a man of God who had given in to the temptation of the devil and committed a sinful act, while my body was stuck on the idea that I was indeed a man of the flesh who had wants, needs, and desires, all of which Monique had fulfilled like they’d never been fulfilled before.

  I jumped out of bed and got down on my knees and began to repent in prayer: “Oh, Lord, my Savior, for the first time ever, I’m at a loss for words while speaking to You. For years I have prayed on the behalf of others that they would be forgiven for giving in to the sins of lust and fornication, instead of being obedient to the Word …” I tried to continue, but my voice cracked and shameful tears began to fall.

  “Please, Lord, forgive me. And forgive Sister Monique for her transgression. It is I who am responsible for her loss of virtue. She’s a good woman, Lord, and I led her astray.”

  I stood up and sat on the bed. I didn’t even feel worthy of being on my knees, begging for God’s mercy. Too ashamed to talk to God, I decided to reach out to the one other being to whom I could confess my sins. I picked up the phone and dialed.

  “Hello,” James answered.

  “James, it’s me.” I was trying to keep it together, but the thoughts of me and Monique last night, with her on top of me … and me on top of her … Lord! I just couldn’t get those images out of my head.

  “Bishop, is that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me, T.K.” I didn’t feel worthy of being greeted as Bishop. “I failed Him, James. I failed God like I’ve never failed Him before.”

  “What are you talking about? Matter of fact, where are you? This isn’t your number …” James’s voice trailed off. I knew he was checking his call
er ID. In a moment, he was going to realize I was calling from Monique’s house. “Bishop! You’re … you’re at—”

  “Yes, James, I’m at Sister Monique’s,” I confessed.

  “But it’s not even eight o’clock in the morning yet. What in God’s name are—” His voice stopped abruptly. If I knew my friend, and I’m sure I did, he’d just sat up straight as a board in his bed. His eyes were now as large as silver dollars.

  “Oh, no, you didn’t! Not after everything I did to set you and Lisa Mae up to kill that rumor. T.K., please tell me you didn’t.”

  “I’m sorry, James. I did. I slept with Monique.” I choked back tears, waiting for him to reply. “James, you still there?”

  “I’m here, T.K. I’m just a little surprised is all.”

  “Not as surprised as I am. I failed Him, James. I failed God. I’m no better than Jim Baker, Jimmy Swaggart, or Jesse Jackson, for that matter. I tried, but when the true test was in front of me, I just couldn’t keep it in my pants.” I broke down, crying and sobbing like a child. I’d never felt so lost in my entire life.

  James tried to comfort me. “Come on, now, T.K. Just calm down. I mean, it’s not the end of the world.”

  I wasn’t too sure anymore that James was the man I should have called on. Don’t get me wrong, he was my best friend and I loved him to death, but with the number of indiscretions he had committed, this was pretty much the norm for him. Would he truly be able to understand my internal suffering and turmoil?

  “Where’s Monique now?” James inquired. “She’s not ready to tell the world about this situation, is she?”

  “She had to go out of town for a few weeks to visit her mother in Mississippi.”

  “What! And who said God wasn’t on your side? This is perfect.”