Married on Mondays

by HoneyB

  Moving her hand, Victoria said, “He didn’t take my virginity. He tried but it didn’t happen. I have to find a way to make Rain stop calling me. Naomi isn’t so understanding right now. That’s why I’m here early. I couldn’t sleep.” Victoria started sniffling.

  “Don’t think I feel sorry for you. I told you a long time ago to stop fucking his retarded ass, but no, you want to point fingers at Foxy and Dallas when Rain is the crazy one. There is something wrong with a man that believes everybody owes him something. His mama disowned him. His daddy hated him. The kids at school picked on him. Victoria won’t give him any pussy. Give me a break, sis, and admit that retarded-ass dick has got you going dumb. You have no one to blame but yourself. You’re my sister. I love you. You could’ve come by my house. You didn’t have to go to his house or come here,” DéJà said.

  Victoria stopped sniffling. Shook her head. “This was yesterday. I didn’t go to his house this morning.”

  “Before or after the flat tire? You brought this on yourself,” DéJà said.

  “It’s your fault that I’m here. Why did you call my wife at work looking for me? I am your sister. Your blood. You should’ve called me, not Naomi.”

  When was Victoria going to grow up and accept responsibility for her shit? “My fault? I did call you. You didn’t answer. What was I supposed to do? Nothing?” Was Victoria for real? DéJà wondered if both of her sisters were suffering from acute anxiety.

  Victoria said, “Just admit that you’re jealous of me and Foxy. You’ve always been jealous of us ever since we were kids. All you’ve done was try to boss us around.”

  Foxy turned on the light. “Forget jealousy.” Foxy stood over DéJà. “Did you tell my husband about my relationship with Dallas?”

  DéJà stood. “This is the thanks I get for trying to help you two.”

  “Help?” Foxy grabbed DéJà’s hair. Slap!

  Whack! DéJà hit, then shoved Foxy out of the office and into the kitchen. Foxy was lucky she was her sister or DéJà would’ve chopped her in the throat, banged her head against the wall, slammed her on the floor, and made her apologize then beg for mercy.

  Foxy stumbled. Regained her balance.

  Victoria stood between them.

  Foxy dug in her hair, pulled out a hairpin. DéJà slipped two fingers inside her belt and revealed her razor.

  “Cut it out!” Victoria cried. “We’re sisters. What are y’all doing?”

  Foxy heaved, then agreed. “She’s right. I’m sorry y’all,” she said, then flung a handful of flour in DéJà’s face. “I’m sorry DéJà opened up her mouth. You did that shit on purpose.”

  Victoria threw powdered sugar at both of them.

  DéJà grabbed two containers of honey.

  Foxy and Victoria conceded.

  DéJà said, “We’ll talk this through on Sunday, but some serious changes have to be made in your personal lives. And I’m not asking, I’m telling you, if I can’t help both of you, I don’t need your permission. I’m calling my father.”

  What had happened to her dad? He said he needed to stop by. DéJà texted her dad, “You okay?”

  He replied, “Got some great news. Found a way to keep my staff. I’ll call you later.”

  Mason Montgomery, no matter the time of night or day, was always working on making somebody else’s life better. DéJà was trying to do the same for her sisters.

  CHAPTER 24

  Victoria

  A midst bliss

  There is sorrow

  Both self-inflicted

  To know not pain

  Is to know not joy

  Dying with no addictions

  No love

  No dreams

  No happiness

  Is a spiritual confliction

  The road chosen is bleak

  For often those who make decisions

  Do not think

  Before they seek

  Tell Naomi or keep it all in was Victoria’s tremulous dilemma. She could boldly march in the bedroom, blurt out the truth, and pretend she’d never said a word. As she vacillated, her heart rate increased. Was she betraying Naomi? Maybe she was making a big deal out of something her wife could help her with, if she knew. Perhaps she was doing the best thing by waiting for the perfect moment. None of her options felt like the right thing to do. It was Friday night. Victoria didn’t want to ruin their weekend. She decided to wait another day before confessing.

  She stood at the kitchen sink staring at the faucet. Turning on the water, she rinsed a colander full of blueberries loaded with antioxidants that would purge toxins from her body. What about her conscience? What could expunge her guilt?

  The small steps she took only prolonged the inevitable. Entering the bedroom with a bowl of fresh blueberries, Victoria cleared her throat, then asked, “Any good bedtime stories?”

  “How’s your arms?”

  “Better. They’re not hurting anymore,” Victoria said. She had a lot on her mind, but the fading marks on her biceps were furthest from her thoughts.

  “And you? Are you hurting?” her wife asked.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  “Want to discuss what happened? Why your sister called me looking for you?”

  “Hurting my arms was an accident. I’d forgotten about them until you mentioned it.” Victoria asked, “What’s happening at the office?”

  Not focusing on the playlist selection she made from their iPod, Victoria eased her naked body atop the covers beside Naomi. She placed the bowl between them praying tonight would be better than last night. Hopefully Rain had taken her attack as a sign to back off.

  Neither Victoria nor Naomi wore pajamas or cared to rest under covers that restricted their freedom of movement. A soft melody resonated throughout the room. Naomi turned off the television.

  Rachmaninoff’s “Lilacs” trickled through the air like a musical waterfall, like background confession music in a love story. Not a good choice. Victoria’s body became tense. She fluffed her pillow, shuffled her legs. The classical piano rhythm strummed her emotions like a harp, making her want to sing like a canary. “Tell it all,” her subconscious said, tapping her on the shoulder. Exhaling, she remained silent.

  Those crystal blue eyes looked at her. “You probably have an idea, sweetcakes. Your sister’s marriage… I don’t know all of what’s going on, but I’m confronting Winton in our next partners’ meeting. You know I’m not the type to get involved in other people’s business, not even yours, but his fucking Nova could jeopardize our practice. That woman is dangerous. Potentially lethal. She’s the type that will hold us liable if she loses her case,” Naomi said, scooping a handful of blueberries.

  Victoria had forgotten about the bowl of berries that were in the bed. She picked a few, not to eat right away, but to help calm her nerves. “How do you know for sure he’s fucking her?”

  Naomi opened her mouth, dropped in a few blueberries, then answered, “Try my walking in on them with his dick buried in her pussy.”

  Oh, no. Healthy or unhealthy, penetration created an emotional bond. Being sexual with Rain had taught her not to be penetrated unless she was prepared to accept the emotional attachment. The more Victoria thought about Rain, the more clearly she realized she didn’t know the man inside the man. DéJà was right. Rain did believe everyone was indebted to him.

  “Why didn’t you say something when you saw them?”

  “Sweetcakes, when I’m at work, I’m in lawyer’s mode the entire time. If I had said something, I would’ve become an identifiable witness if she filed a case.” Naomi continued, “This morning, I’d left my notes in our mock courtroom. Walked in at lunchtime to get them, and Winton’s pants was below his knees, Nova had on a judge’s robe, nothing else from what I saw. Her legs were wrapped around his thrusting ass. How stupid can he be?”

  “Are you sure she didn’t see you?”

  Naomi shook her head, ate more berries.

  “Is that no, as in she didn’t see you
, or are you not sure if she saw you?”

  “She didn’t see me, sweetcakes.”

  Victoria knew her sister would be outraged if she found out. “Don’t tell Foxy.” Foxy deserved to know the truth but her knowing would complicate Victoria’s situation. Victoria questioned herself: And Naomi doesn’t deserve to know the truth about Rain?

  Naomi replied, “Of course not. You know I wouldn’t do that. But like I said, I am going to confront Winton.”

  Temporarily escaping the spotlight of her own drama, Victoria didn’t want to betray Foxy. But she didn’t think telling her sister was a good idea. Not right now. Foxy would fire back with questions about Rain. Fearing her marriage to Naomi might be in jeopardy, Victoria didn’t want Foxy to confront Naomi. And she didn’t want to be the one to give Foxy a reason to ask Winton for a divorce.

  Winton was a good man. His marriage to Foxy… could be better, but who was Victoria to judge. What if Winton were to lie and say, “Victoria and Naomi are lying. I did not fuck Nova”? Then what? Sometimes silence was golden. Especially when it came to getting involved in other people’s relationships.

  Victoria placed the bowl of berries on the nightstand. She kissed her wife’s lips, her neck, her breasts, then her stomach. With each kiss she moved a little lower until she buried her face in Naomi’s sweet pussy. Opening her wife’s thighs, Victoria kissed Naomi’s clit. When she inserted her finger inside Naomi, her wife’s pussy was hot and wet.

  Victoria contemplated giving her virginity to Naomi. If her wife made love to her, if her wife was the first to penetrate her, then Victoria could let Rain know she was no longer a virgin. But would Rain be satisfied, disgusted, or think her to be a liar? He hadn’t called since she’d left his house. What was he up to?

  She looked up into Naomi’s eyes.

  Naomi was teasing her own nipples. “Strap on for me, baby.”

  Victoria shook her head, then said, “Not tonight. Tonight I want you to strap on for me… and I don’t want you to fuck me in the ass,” Victoria said, handing Naomi the seven-inch dildo and harness.

  Naomi patted the bed beside her. “Come here, sweetcakes. We need to talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk. I want you to fuck me. Now.”

  CHAPTER 25

  DéJà

  Around noon, soccer moms, nannies, husbands, and singles—some clients, others oblivious to the adult fantasy menu—piled into Crème to buy pastries, iced coffee, hot coffee, breakfast beverages or to pay for a satisfaction-guaranteed trip to Crème Fantasyland. After two, the shop would become quiet with only a few stragglers or travelers passing through town.

  Seven o’clock Saturday morning and the first customer standing outside the shop was Rain, suited up in his police uniform. His SUV patrol car blocked the entrance to the parking lot. His siren blared. Blue and red lights swirled atop his car. Customers slowed, stared, then kept driving.

  It was too early for this nonsense. DéJà unlocked the door. “You need to move that damn car. You’re deterring our customers.”

  “You don’t want your customers to hear what I have to say. I’ll move my car when I get ready. Be glad you’re not in the backseat.”

  “What, Rain? What do you want?” DéJà sternly asked. He needed to earn his salary, get on his job, get away from hers.

  “I need to speak with Victoria’s trifling ass right now,” Rain insisted, adjusting his crotch.

  DéJà did not believe in giving respect where it wasn’t due. “Your ass need to back up outta here. She’s not available to you.”

  “Tell her to make herself available…. Victoria!” he shouted over DéJà’s shoulder, bypassed her, walked behind the register like he owned the place. “I know she’s here. Her car’s outside.”

  “I never said she wasn’t here. I said she’s not available to you. She doesn’t want to see you. Can I help you with something?”

  Rain was silent. He sucked in his teeth, put his hand on his gun.

  “If there’s nothing I can help you with, then you need to get out. Now!” she yelled, then mumbled, “Your parents sure did fuck you up.”

  Rain’s eyes turned red. Hate oozed from his pores. He tightened his fingers around the handle of his gun. “What did you say?”

  DéJà shook her head. She’d told Victoria not to date his dysfunctional ass.

  “Don’t talk crazy to me. I’m not your husband or one of your slaves. I will put your ass facedown and slap these on you if I have to,” he said, fingering his cuffs.

  “And you’re not Victoria’s husband,” DéJà sarcastically replied. “She has a wife.”

  Rain nodded. Stared down at DéJà. “Victoria also has something that belongs to me. Tell her if I don’t get it soon, I’m shutting this place down, and…” Rain paused, released his grip on the gun, then left without completing his sentence.

  What in the world? DéJà wanted to beat his arrogant ass for acting an ass. She’d never seen that side of Rain, but he was no fool and his idle threats about shutting down the shop had grown old. If he were serious, he would’ve closed them down already. Thankfully no customers were in the shop. DéJà didn’t care about him. She locked the door behind Rain and went into the kitchen.

  The terrified look on Victoria’s face was clear. Rain had overstepped his boundary. But if Victoria wanted help, she was going to have to open her damn mouth and confess everything.

  “Give it to us straight,” DéJà said, then asked, “What the hell is happening between you and Rain?”

  Foxy ran cold water on a paper towel. Handed it to Victoria to wipe her face. “We are waiting for an answer this time.”

  DéJà commented, “Yeah, and don’t give us that ‘He wants my virginity’ line again. That’s old. Rain’s threats are old. He can’t be that outraged over your pussy. And I’m tired of it! Say something dammit.”

  Sighing heavily, Victoria said, “Nothing is happening between us. That’s the problem.”

  DéJà said, “Fine. Keep the truth to yourself, Miss ‘I don’t lie to anybody,’ but when the shit blows up in your face, you’d better pray he’s not serious about shutting down what I’ve worked my ass off to achieve. Speaking of work, I’m getting to work.”

  DéJà returned to the front. Unlocked the door and greeted her regular Saturday morning client. “Let me guess. You want the off-the-menu hot-and-sticky bun?”

  “Ou, I like the hot, saucy attitude,” he said. Then whispered, “We should get started now.”

  DéJà glanced at his hard dick, shook her head. “No. Not now.”

  “Calm down. I was just kidding. You know what I want,” he said, grinning as he followed her to the register.

  “One or two?”

  “One hour today. Gotta get home early. Today is my wife’s birthday,” he said, then winked.

  “That’ll be the usual,” DéJà said, extending her hand. “Flogging or verbal?”

  “Wish I had more time ’cause I’m loving your jalapeño energy. Better stick with the verbal today. Don’t want to get caught up. See you at four,” the dean said, then left.

  Their meeting place for the last two years was the same. She’d meet the dean of Crème University at the house he owned on the lake. The dean’s five-thousand-square-foot house was on a quarter of an acre. His cottage, what some called an in-law unit, the two-bedroom dungeon, was a good walking distance from his big house. She’d park behind the cottage so no one would see her car.

  Men were at times more clever than women. Knowing his wife was terrified of snakes, the dean had brought two eight-foot boa constrictors home as pets. His wife screamed, “Get those things out of here!” His response: “I’ll keep them in the cottage.”

  His plan to make the cottage all his had worked. His wife hadn’t gone near the cottage in over two years. The dean wasn’t interested in cheating on his wife, but his fantasy to be dominated by a gorgeous woman led him to Crème. The first time DéJà had tied him up, beat his ass to his satisfaction, he’d become he
r regular customer.

  Not him again. DéJà accosted Rain in the parking lot before he’d gotten out of his car. “What is your malfunction? I told you she doesn’t want to see you.”

  “I suggest you get out the way before you end up behind bars,” Rain said, silencing his ignition.

  “Fine.” DéJà stepped back from his car. “But you enter Crème, and I’m personally going to file a complaint against you.”

  He leaned his head back, laughed from his gut. “In case you forgot, sweetheart, I am the chief of police. Who’re you gonna call? Me?”

  “How about I contact the Office of Citizens’ Complaints, Internal Affairs, the Citizens’ Police Review Board, the Crème City and County News, and the mayor for starters? You are not God, okay. And you can shove that badge up your ass. Keep away from my sister and our business.”

  He hesitated, then replied, “I can shut down this little pastry shop anytime I’d like.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You are fucking with the wrong one. I am not Victoria. Do something or shut the hell up. You have no idea who we service here, but let’s just say you’re not the top dog on our list. We go down, I’m dragging your pathetic behind underneath us.”

  What Rain didn’t know was she wasn’t bluffing. His boss, the head person at the Office of Citizens’ Complaints, was DéJà’s personal client.