Every Woman Needs a Wife

by Naleighna Kai

  “Come on, Tanya,” Mrs. Patton said softly, patting her hand gently, eyes wide with alarm. “Let me take you to the nurse.”

  “No, I’m all right.” Tanya said between breaths, willing the nausea to go away. “I just want to be…I’ll turn in all of my work tomorrow. I promise. I won’t give you any more trouble.” Had someone turned the heat up in the room? Small beads of sweat peppered her forehead. Tanya couldn’t break down. Not here. She had to get out of the room—and fast. “I’ll be back.”

  Mrs. Patton spoke in a tone that painted a world of trust. “I’m not finished talking to you, Tanya. I want to help, but you’ve shut me out. I don’t know what else to do.”

  Tanya’s slender body trembled as she tried to breathe slowly, evenly. “Mrs. Patton,” she whispered before turning away, facing the empty rows of chairs. She was used to the noisy comfort of her classmates, the spit-balls being thrown when Mrs. Patton’s back was turned, notes saying I love you being passed back and forth, or the sighs coming from the entire class when a pop quiz was announced. Tanya could deal with that, but her problems were now so much deeper. “I can’t tell you. Even if I could, I don’t know where to start.” Tanya looked at the teacher who had always encouraged her to do more. Mrs. Patton was the reason Tanya had joined the debate team and cheerleading squad. She had told Tanya that with time management a girl could do whatever she wanted.

  The woman cautiously reached for Tanya’s hand. Tanya pulled away at first, then slowly, timidly, placed both hands in Mrs. Patton’s. The warm hands cradled Tanya’s cold ones. The move said, trust me. Tanya wanted to so badly, but…

  “Talk to me. You can trust me. Let me help you. I’m here for you, just like I’ve always been.” Mrs. Patton’s thumb stroked gently across Tanya’s hand. “Are you pregnant?”

  “No.” But Tanya had to think about it for a moment. “At least…I don’t think so.” Her voice broke and sobs poured forth no matter how much she tried to keep it together.

  “It’s all right,” Mrs. Patton said, as Tanya reached out and held on to her.

  She began rocking gently back and forth. A small cry of pain escaped her lips, followed by a low, whimpering sound.

  “It’s all right, Tanya. Take your time. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  Tanya nodded as Mrs. Patton’s reached for the tissues on her desk. Tanya’s voice came out in a whisper. “He…hurt me.” Tanya took in a breath and shifted uncomfortably on the chair. Her hands repeatedly rubbed her thighs as though wiping away imaginary dirt. “Daddy…hurt…me.”

  Mrs. Patton froze. Her small intake of breath sounded like a cannon blast in Tanya’s ears. She felt the woman’s body stiffen with anger, then she saw the teacher’s face softened with compassion.

  “At first it was just him…touching me,” Tanya said softly. “It always made me uncomfortable, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do.” Tanya sighed, then linked her fingers together, then loosened them, and began wringing her hands like a dishrag. “Then it started happening more and more. Then he started coming into my room late at night after Mama went to sleep or if she was out doing charity work. And he…hurt me. It…hurts. Every time.” Tanya barely managed to say the words without breaking into sobs. “I used to love my daddy. Now I’m so afraid of him that I’m afraid to go to sleep. I’m afraid to go home.” Tanya stood, almost knocking Mrs. Patton over, and rashed toward the door.

  Mrs. Patton raced after her and attempted to console her as Tanya slumped to the floor.

  “You can’t tell anyone. My family is all I have,” she whispered, fear penetrating every cell in her body as she realized what she’d done. “I want my mama, but I can’t tell her this. She’ll hate me.” Tears blurred Tanya’s vision. She felt so small. So invisible.

  “Your mother could never hate you. She loves you so much.” Mrs. Patton’s warm, soothing voice echoed in the empty classroom. “She would never have wanted this to happen to you.”

  When Tanya glanced up, the wetness on Mrs. Patton’s cheeks only made Tanya cry more. Mrs. Patton understood. She really did.

  “I saw the signs, Tanya, but I wasn’t sure. I hoped that you would come to me when the time was right. But I could see that you were sinking deeper and deeper in despair. I had to do something today.”

  “Maybe Mama won’t believe me. Daddy owns this town. Mama might not want to see him go to jail.”

  Mrs. Patton shook head. “Your safety, your healing, your situation come first. Don’t try to think or work out things for the adults who will be affected by your reporting the abuse. You have a right to be safe. Remember the incident happened to you and you are the person who needs protection and help.” Mrs. Patton moved so that her face was only inches from Tanya’s. “Do you think your mother would really care about money if she knew her little girl had been hurt? If anything, we’d probably have a hard time getting her to let the police handle things because she’d be so angry she’d want to go after your father herself.”

  Tanya wiped her tear-stained face with a baggy sleeve. “Mama will blame me. I mean, she’s always telling me to wear those old conservative clothes.”

  Mrs. Patton shook her head sadly. “Grown women—grandmothers even—covered from head to toe or wearing business suits, have been raped. It doesn’t have anything to do with what you’re wearing. There are cases where boys have been sexually abused, and we know that they mostly wear jeans and T-shirts and don’t have breasts or curves.”

  Tanya stared at Mrs. Patton as if her words alone would ensure safety.

  The seconds ticked by as Mrs. Patton stayed silent. After a while she said, “I’ll talk to your mother and tell her everything I know about sexual abuse and let her know about all the options available to both of you. I’m also a rape advocate for Walton Medical. I can be with you through this and help smooth things over with your mom so you can really deal with what happened to you. The choice is yours.”

  Tanya shrugged. “I still don’t know. How can I tell her something like this? She really loves Daddy.”

  “Yes, but she loves you, too. Mothers have a special bond with their children. You’ve heard of mothers running back into a burning building to get their children out?”

  Tanya nodded.

  Mrs. Patton’s soft smile warmed Tanya’s heart. “Then know that same love applies to you now.”

  “You think so?”

  “Yes, I really do. And you have your little sister to think about. This could happen to her, too. Your mother needs to protect both of you. In your mother’s time, there weren’t as many choices. Now there are. You trusted me, now give her a chance.”

  “All right.” Tanya stood, brushed off her jeans, and helped Mrs. Patton from the floor. “I’m ready. Let’s go home. She should be there.”

  About thirty minutes later, they sat across from Margaret Jaunal in the library and told her everything.

  Mrs. Patton was wrong. Very wrong.

  Tanya’s life became a living hell.

  CHAPTER Thirty-Four

  Vernon opened the front door, frowning when he found Jeremy and Craig bundled in their warmest winter clothes as they stood on his mother’s doorstep. Frost followed every breath.

  “I don’t want to talk with you Negroes. You weren’t there for me when I needed you, so don’t show your asses up now.”

  “Hey,” Jeremy said, “I helped you rent a U-Haul.”

  “Yeah? And I couldn’t sleep in that bitch, either.”

  Vernon slammed the door, turned on his heels, and headed for the couch.

  Craig yelled loud enough to reach through the door. “Okay, but we’ll miss you at Thighs High…”

  Vernon froze mid-step, blinked as the name registered. The strip club? He whipped around in a complete 180 and ran back toward the door like a kid tumbling after the ice cream truck, grabbing his keys, coat and gloves, slipping on his boots just before he stepped onto the front porch.

  Craig, wearing a black outfit underneath
his wool coat, grinned as Jeremy folded his hands across his beefy chest.

  Vernon grimaced. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, all’s forgiven,” he said with a dismissive wave, then fell in step behind them as they crunched through the snow toward Jeremy’s navy BMW.

  “Mmmmm, hmmmm,” Jeremy said, giving him a once-over before getting into the driver’s seat. “Mention a little tits and ass and his dick does all the thinking.”

  “Fuck you.”

  Craig roared with laughter as he snapped the seat belt in place. “See, too much time alone. Now he wants to play for the pink team.”

  “Yeah, I always wanted a pretty little house bitch like you.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Jeremy said, before pulling out onto Forty-seventh Street. “We need to get your ass some therapy—quick.”

  “Thirty dollars to get into that strip joint is therapy enough.”

  Thighs High, named after an old Tom Brown funk-R&B tune, was exactly what the name implied. Gorgeous women in shades ranging from the darkest chocolate brown to the creamiest alabaster either took their place wrapping their sexy bodies around a gold pole that extended from the ceiling to the stage, worked the room with lap dances, or poured drinks. Everything from hoochies to high class all in one spot—one-stop pussy shopping. Vernon’s mood lifted a little when he saw the women with smooth bare bikini lines and thighs, and a couple of them with hair poking out on the sides of their panties. The latter made him want to take a line from the old commercial: “Great Scott, what a lawn!”

  “All this in one place is as good as an instant hard-on,” Craig said, holding his beer midway to his mouth. “God’s way of saying, ‘Heaven belongs to us.’” His golden skin flushed as he rubbed his hands together, grinning like a kid who had just met the tooth fairy with a sack full of cash. “Ass to the left of us, ass to the right.”

  Vernon’s gaze narrowed on his friend, who seemed a little too happy for the occasion. “Where does Alanna think you are?”

  Craig didn’t blink as he took a swig of Miller Genuine Draft. “Pool hall. There’s one upstairs, right?”

  Vernon turned to Jeremy, whose thin lips lifted into a sheepish grin. “Your mama’s house, cheering you up.”

  “With y’all’s lying asses.”

  Jeremy shrugged. “Hey, I did stop by!”

  Vernon took a swig of Miller Lite. “And I’m the one in the doghouse.”

  “Hey, we also don’t have a white mistress and we didn’t get busted,” Jeremy shot back.

  Even in the midst of all the booty-shaking going on around him, Vernon missed Brandi, missed the comfort of his own bed and her luscious body curled up with his, the sounds of his daughters’ voices as they squealed with delight when he entered the house. Some things a man couldn’t buy, but others—like the tall, leggy blonde who started this trouble–were purchased in monthly installments. Something about Tanya had touched him, made him feel like protecting her, but he hadn’t really loved her as much as Brandi. Tanya reminded him of how vulnerable Brandi had been in the beginning, but she had grown stronger each year of their marriage. The one night that would always stand out in his mind more than any other, was the first time he made love to his wife.

  ♥♥♥

  Stretched out on a blanket in a secluded spot near a place called The Point, under the bright lights, towering skyscrapers, and liquid beauty of Lake Michigan reflecting Chicago in all its glory; Vernon reached out for her, kissing her long and hard, exploring the warm depths of her mouth with a searing moist heat. As moans spilled from her smooth, lovely throat, she ran a soft hand through his short-cropped hair. He peeled away her blouse, lifted her bra, exposed the soft mounds of flesh, and encircled her engorged nipples with his hot tongue. He took one into his mouth, sucking as though her creamy skin could provide nourishment. And for him it did. The fact that she allowed him to touch her in this way spoke volumes. The fact that she reached for him, drawing him closer to her breasts, said all he needed to know about her need to be intimate with him.

  Brandi didn’t tense when he lifted her skirt and slowly pulled the powder blue satin panties down and off, only to drape his tongue across the soft velvet of her thighs. Then he trailed a hot path to softly nestle in the curls at the delta. He parted her lips with his moist tongue, but teased along the outside, relishing each moan as he began a soft, gentle rhythm.

  “Vernon,” she gasped, not loosening the grip she had on his head.

  He shook his head quickly, loosened her hold a bit, and placed his tongue directly in line with her pearl, which stood at Army attention, begging for his touch. Gently he flicked his tongue across the small pink membrane, grazing it with light strokes.

  She rewarded him instantly with the slight buckling of her knees and the sway of her hips as she began to move with him, meeting the soft pressure of his lips. Nectar, hot and salty-sweet, poured forth and spilled out over his tongue.

  He stayed within the moist heat, gently coaxing away painful memories he knew had become an integral part of her existence. He wanted her hot for his touch, unafraid to let him take her to a higher level of pleasure.

  Maybe starting this way would be the right thing. He wanted her all to himself—no matter how much Michael Cobb stepped up his game.

  As her body trembled almost violently in the throes of her first orgasm, he felt jubilant—almost elated.

  She slowly allowed her thighs to part a little wider, giving him access to earthbound heaven. Tingling warmth spread from his loins, as a rush of blood gathered low in his body. Soon the heavy warmth of arousal growing beneath his stomach became too much, and he stood, hesitating only a moment to look in her eyes. All the months of waiting, of loving her, of holding her and bringing her out of that shell, could all go back to square one if she wasn’t truly ready.

  She reached down, unleashing his throbbing erection, running her delicate fingers across the veins. It throbbed in response and she smiled. She looked at him, taking in all of his face, slowly and honestly. “I’m sure, honey. I want you. I don’t want to be afraid anymore.” The gentle caress of her words cut through the sweet music of the Lake Michigan waves rolling behind them.

  And they called this hot, writhing woman in his hands a Fudgsicle? How wrong they were!

  With tortured intensity, he inched inside her moist heat as he locked his gaze on hers, checking for any sign that he should stop. The heat spilled around him like the steamy waters of an Arizona hot spring, as her walls gripped and welcomed him at the same time. Something like tiny pinpoints of light exploded in his mind as a river of blood pounded at his temples. Her eyes fluttered and closed as he stayed within her—not moving, not breathing—just relishing the smooth velvety feel of her. Enjoying her arms wrapped securely around his neck, and her thighs locked around his waist in a loving embrace that every man dreamed of, but only few took time to appreciate.

  She moaned again and he took that to be significant and moved more of himself inside her. He stayed there for what seemed an eternity, but was actually only a minute as he allowed her to adjust to his size and gave her the opportunity to pull away. She didn’t move at first, until she favored him with a long, searing kiss—every moment she became more daring, more open to him.

  Then he slid deeper into the moist depths of her and pulled away only to have Brandi welcome him back in once again.

  ♥♥♥

  “I want my wife back,” he said, shaking his head, clearing the memories away and pulling his attention back to the heated activity at Thighs High. He shifted in his seat—his dick had started to reach for the sky with the thought of that wonderful time with his wife. He tried to clear his mind and focus on the stage. Watching the fleshy light brown woman quivering her cheeks on stage as though someone had put an electric prod to her did less for him than the memory of his first time with Brandi. The stripper looked like Brandi. And come to think of it, his wife had slowly overcome her apprehensions and could do a striptease that could put every woman in t
he place to shame. And he could make love to her all night, every night, or every day, all day, without having to worry about catching anything that could make his dick pack up and leave him. The thought of starting over was not appealing. “I’m getting my wife back!”

  The atmosphere in Thighs High suddenly become more humid as a few extra bodies lined the stage. Vernon unbuttoned his shirt and struggled for air. He needed to get out. He wanted his life back. Right now!

  “Just leave Brandi alone, man,” Jeremy said, watching as another nearly naked angel dipped around the pole twice, undulating in a way that made every man in the place sit up and pant like rabid dogs, “before she puts a real hurtin’ on your ass.”

  Strippers with the bodies of goddesses and the dexterity of trapeze artists quickly scooped up the money, which rained down on the stage from all directions. But to Vernon, none could compare to who he had at home. Normally, watching the show would uplift him (in more ways the one). Tonight all he could think about was his wife.

  “You got busted, that’s all there is to it,” Craig said, interrupting his direct eye contact with a stripper the DJ said was named Sunshine. “Be happy you escaped with ass intact. If you’d been married to Avie, you wouldn’t be so lucky.”

  All three men shivered at the thought.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” Vernon said, loosening his shirt a little. “It’s getting too tight around here.”

  Craig lifted his glass, touching it to Jeremy’s. “Most men would consider it a blessing to have both of their ladies in one house, accepting—”

  “And can you believe that shit!” Vernon snapped, reality settling in. “Both of them heifers laid up in my house, with my money. And part of it’s going to Tanya’s house and I still can’t stay there. I’m sleeping at my Mama’s house and I still have to pay maintenance and child support. Ain’t that a bitch?”