Single Ladies Page 5

"Thank you", she whispered to the young lady.

  "And now, we're open for testimonies", the heavyset, Caucasian woman announced.

  It seems as if people were extremely eager to stand up and testify that night. Karla could think of many things to be thankful for in her life, and she felt like sharing them. After a few people, and the amen's after their speeches, she stood up and cleared her throat.

  "First, giving thanks to the Most High, honor to the pulpit and my brothers and sisters in Christianity, I rose this evening to testify on the wonderful mercy and grace of the Lord. I am new to this service and have been coming for the last two weeks. I really feel comfortable here at Serenity", the Amen's started immediately. She thought of telling the women there about her job and the services she offered, but decided against it, because the members may get the wrong idea and think she was just another person who goes to different churches and religious functions, just to gain new clients. She decided to wait until she was a member of the church for awhile before telling them. She continued, " I feel his presence each and every day that I wake, and I know he is with me from the time I step outside my front door, and until I return home for the night. I am so grateful that I am alive, healthy, and of a sound mind. I ask that you all pray for me, and call my name out in your prayers, so that I may grow stronger." There were several amen's and nodding heads as she took her seat. The lady beside her gave her a friendly rub across her shoulder when she sat down. A man, sitting adjacent from the pew that Karla was on, was observing her through the service. Tony Mitchell, the grandson of the Pastor, was amazed by Karla's charisma. He'd watched her over the last weeks that she'd attended morning worship and evening services. His slight physique, looked nice in his beige dress pants, and Moximo shirt to match. He wasn't that tall; about 5'8, slim, with a dark copper complexion. He knew he had to say something to Karla. If it wasn't anything but hello, he just wanted to make eye contact and strike a conversation, if possible. Her beauty was striking and her the sincerity of her words intrigued him even more.

  After service, everyone was invited to stay for refreshments. Karla was approached by several women, young, and old, who gave friendly, small talk and words of encouragement. When she finally had a moment alone, Tony approached her.

  "Praise the Lord, sister. I'm Tony Mitchell," he extended his hand and she gave him a firm handshake.

  "Praise the Lord, Tony. I'm Karla Gill."

  "I see you have been here a couple weeks now. I am glad you enjoy the services."

  "Indeed, I do! It's so refreshing and wonderful to network with such lovely people." she smiled.

  "Yes, it is", he agreed, smiling.

  "I see there aren't many young people here tonight."

  "Well, I'm here! I'm young!" he laughed.

  She laughed.

  He went on, "Well, it's been like that the last year or so. We get a lot of the younger members to come out for regular Sunday morning worship, but a lot of them work or are in school, so they don't attend a lot of the other services. If you don't mind me asking, what kind of work do you do?"

  "Well, I'm a social worker for women and children. I handle domestic violence victims and things of the sort. I'm a community activist, also."

  "Wow. That's amazing. Do you have a business card with you?"

  She gave him a slightly questioning expression.

  "Just so that I can reference you, because I am the mentor for the male youth of the community center in rural areas of Atlanta. It's similar to the Boys and Girls Club. I'm an advocate for the youth, try to keep young men focused on goals, school, and give them plenty of afterschool activities and things to keep them out of trouble. I'm also a peer support specialist for African American men, too. I was thinking, when you said you are a community activist, that maybe we could collaborate and make a bigger and much more positive change in our community," his dark brown eyes were light with passion.

  She was impressed with his sincere enthusiasm. "Yes! That would definitely be great. I do have a card with me, as a matter of fact," she said as she dug her lavender business card from her purse. In return, he handed her his card.

  "Thank you so much, Tony. I will be in touch."

  He shook her hand again. "Please do", he whispered as she walked away, leaving the scent of her signature fragrance, Donna Karan.

  She started her engine and looked at his card. It read,

  Anthony Essex Mitchell III, Director of Peer Support Services, Youth Advocate and Mentor.

  "I'm finally at the right place, at the right time, and been given the right opportunity to render all the right services. Thank you Lord, for your blessings", she whispered.

  Chapter 7

  Angie

  Angela was immune to the usual, irritating beep of her alarm clock. At 6:15 a.m, after hitting the snooze button twice, she lied awake and stared at the empty space next to her. Just six hours prior, that very space was occupied by her every-other-week-on-speed-dial freak, Nasir Hall, who she had intermittent sexual encounters with. She slept with him whenever she was extremely horny or needed to feel a man holding her and smell the scent of masculinity. Mostly, when she felt neglected by Brandon.

  Nasir was a contractor, who had done manual labor all of his life. His body told the whole story. He had an eight pack to die for. His chiseled arms were enough to make a woman orgasm at sight. His thighs were tight as sinew weed and felt good between in hers. He was actually very polite and intelligent, which is more than she gave him credit for, initially. He was doing some work for her co-worker, Claire, when she would go to her weekly book club meetings. She ignored his silent gestures and flirts, because he didn't make enough money to entice her, and he wasn't dressed in a business suit. However, something about his rugged appearance turned her on, more and more, as she went by Claire's house. One day, while shopping for groceries, they met again. He was dressed in jeans, a black tee , with his Chinese zodiac symbol on it, and it fit his thick, muscular arms perfectly. He wore Timbaland boots on his long feet. He stood about six feet, with a beautiful Hershey‘s chocolate complexion. He had a bald head, and his goatee was shaped perfectly around his full, soft lips. He was undeniably irresistible. He had always been quiet, so she didn't expect much conversation. He invited her to his apartment for a drink or two. After he had about five drinks, he relaxed and started to talk more. His conversation was very intelligent and intriguing. He talked for so long, until Angela had to make the inevitable happen. She recalled the details.

  She stood in front of him and undressed. He hungrily licked his lips and squinted his seductive eyes with desire, as he beheld her womahood. Her 36 C cup breasts were prominent, and full. Her cinnamon brown nipples were erect and ready for his warm tongue. As if he read her body language and mind, he opened his craving mouth and started sucking on them.

  Her aching slit was leaking all over her inner thighs, when he simultaneously slid his large hand between them. He cupped her sweet, fleshy pussy and rubbed his thumb across her clit. Foreplay was becoming so intense, she thought she would never get the main course.

  She reached down and pulled on his steel flesh. His precum trickled out of the head, as he pulled a condom over it. He stopped her, as she straddled him. He slid back, opened her legs wide, teased and tantalized her clit with his tongue. He gently pushed the hood back, revealing her tiny pearl. He sucked on it. She closed her eyes and screamed his name. When he was ready, he gripped her svelte waistline and entered her from underneath. She had to do no work, because he positioned himself up on his hands and power pounded her from the bottom. She screamed and jerked wildly as he began to plunge deeper inside of her and become more and more fierce and rough with her delicate body. They climaxed at the same time. An encore of the same hot scene would replay twice that night.....and from that moment on; they were both.....addicted.

  Her pussy tightened, as if she were doing her Kegel exercises, as she reminisced on the pleasurable encounters. Erotic nights and undeniable ecstasy still didn't matt
er, when the man of her dreams was starting to fade from her life. Brandon had been everything she would want in a man. Rich, being the first thing. Intelligent, well-known, respected, and handsome, but he was just too damn busy. She fought with her racing thoughts, and sprung from bed to shower for work.

  "Good morning, Claire," she sang in a feigned cheerful voice, as she tried to hide the growing pain she felt inside.

  "Mornin' Angie. Hey, Amanda called over, and your flight has been cancelled. They can't meet with you until late in August, about the project. Everything has been postponed."

  Secretly, Angie was relieved. "Oh, that's too bad," she held back a smirk. "Could you have them to fax over a letter about the postpone of the project?"

  "Yeah, I'll do that now."

  "Thank you," she smiled, as she walked into her office.

  Just before lunch time, Claire knocked on her office door, with a bouquet of beautiful roses in her hand. "These just came for you, my dear!"

  Angie looked up from her computer. "Oh, thanks, Claire, you can sit them right here."

  Once Claire was gone, Angie pulled the card from the flowers and it read "I know I've been a jerk lately, but so much is going on. I want to spend an evening with you. Just the two of us, so that we can sit and talk about some things. No interruptions, I promise. I'll call later, Love, Brandon-"

  She placed the card upon her breasts and grinned. "I love you too," she whispered, as she rose to go to lunch.

  Terrence knocked on her office door, as usual. "Hey, I'll buy if you have lunch with me."

  She squinted her eyes at him playfully. "I don't know if I can trust you, Mr. Office Gossiper."

  He raised both his hands, as if he'd been surrounded by policemen. "I swear, I didn't mean anything by it. People just come and tell me things. I'm sorry."

  She giggled. "Relax, I'm just kidding. I'll go with you, only if you drive, and we go for one of those juicy burgers at Billie's."

  "Billie's is cool. It aint far. C'mon."

  The temperature outside was just right. Not too brisk, and not warm. They sat at a table with a red and white striped umbrella over it. Their mouthes watered at the sight of the piping hot, crispy french fries and greasy cheeseburgers in front of them.

  "So, " Terrence said in between chewing a french fry. "You don’t like to talk much about your dating life, huh?"

  "Why would I? It is my dating life, right? It's not the office's business who I date or what I do. Don’t you agree?" she bit her burger.

  "Oh, totally. I was just asking. I mean, me myself, ever since my divorce from Sheri, I have been single and loving my newfound freedom."

  "Is that right?" she asked.

  "Yeah, and I-" he was interrupted by his cell phone. "Hello? Hey, you. No, I didn't know you called. Well, you didn't leave a voicemail." he held his cell phone in his right hand and his left wrist was bent in the way that she'd seen most gay men bend theirs. She pretended not to listen to him or notice his hands. He continued, "Yeah, I don't mind. I said yeah, what are you talking about? It will have to be later. Look, I‘m trying to eat my lunch here. I get off at five. Just call me later. Hello? Hello? You're phone's breaking up. Nasir, your phone's breaking up. Hello? Okay, yeah. Later." he closed his phone and noticed Angie's curious expression. "Oh, my uh- my uh- cousin, Nasir, wants me to help him with a project he has to finish."

  She still looked puzzled, because his words during the phone call and his slightly effeminate manner when the talked to this "Nasir", were very suggestive.

  "He's doing some work for a lady and needs my help."

  "Oh, okay. Is your burger as good as mine? I love these!" Angie got off the subject.

  "Oh, hell yeah. Billie's is the bomb!" he bit into his burger and nodded his head.

  Angie's eyes couldn't help but notice his metro style of clothing, and her eyes wandered to his freshly manicured nails, as usual. He was definitely a sight that got her wheels to spinning.

  Chapter 8

  Roni

  The building was a fair size. There was no wonder why it was called the Wall Hole, though. It looked just like a little hole in the wall. An average sized burgundy, brick building, with a cheesy sign on the front, that was lit up with electric blue letters that spelled out, Dewey's, . Inside, it was better, kind of cozy, but still not quite elite. Cigarette smoke floated around like swirly white clouds in front of the ladies faces.

  "Oh, I am not gonna even be able to stand this shit," Karla coughed and wrinkled her pointy nose.

  "Me either, but it's just temporary. He said he's the first act."

  "If he's so damn good, then I wonder why they don’t save him for last." Karla chuckled, tossing her head of dreadlocks, as she scanned the room for somewhere comfortable to sit.

  Roni and Angela rolled their eyes at Karla.

  They mutually agreed to sit off in a corner, to the left of the small center stage. People were laughing, talking, enjoying their cigarettes, drinks, and the melodies of Raheem Devaughn's "You" that was playing.

  About fifteen minutes later, after all three ladies had looked at their watches and cell phones to confirm the time, an obese, bald guy came to the stage.

  "It's Bigg-Boi and I'm back ya'll! And What's going on in the Hole tonite?!"

  The crowd clapped and welcomed the Big guy on stage.

  Angie, Roni, and Karla all looked at each other.

  "Ugh...I know that's not him, yall!" Angie frowned with disgust.

  "He said he was slim!" Roni's eyes were bulging.

  "That's why online dating is not a good idea. People always tell some kind of lie about what they look like", Karla wasn't surprised.

  Ignoring, Karla, Angie and Roni continued to stare at the four hundred pound, sweaty, bald man on the tiny center stage.

  At the end of his corny joke, they realized he was merely the emcee, once he started the intro to his first and main act. "Usually our grand finale and superior act, he had to be first tonite. He's the one and only...the elite poet..the baddest, as ya'll like to call him. My boy, my ace, The Baddest... Mr. Johnny Parker."

  The standing ovations, finger snaps, and whistling of the medium-sized audience, welcomed none other than the handsome, tall, slim, front desk representative from Luxury Suites Hotel, Jonathan Parker.

  Roni's mouth was wide open.

  "Damn, girl he fine!!" Angie squealed.

  Jonathan stood smiling, and humbly waited for the crowd's excitement to mellow before citing his poem. He wore black jeans by Diorsoul that sat low on his tight waistline and a white body tee that perfectly conformed to his muscular arms. The chain and cross that hung from it, rested in the center of his broad chest. His coal black hair was french braided to the back, and accented with a white Kangol hat.

  "Ya'll, that's the guy who I hired at the hotel!" Roni shouted.

  "Oh, my goodness. That's even worse!" Karla hissed. "Workplace love."

  "Shut up, Karla. Not necessarily. That dude is f-oi-ne! Even if he is broke", Angela kept her eyes on him.

  Roni was unmoved by their conversation, as he began his presentation. The musicians who sat behind him, began to play soft jazz, around his poetic words...

  "It's good to be back ya'll. How ya'll feelin tonite? How about the ladies, Are you feelin kinda sexy?"

  Just about all the women in the room, cheered out a "Yeeeeaaaahhh!" All the men were sitting and patiently waiting on the brother to deliver his words. Angie and Karla looked at each other and burst into laughter.

  "How nineties," Karla whispered under her breath.

  "That's good, cuz I'm feelin like a little vocal love...I feel like expressin tonite ladies," he finished.

  "LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT MISS THING WHO

  WALKS WITH THAT EROTIC SWING

  IN HER HIPS

  AND KEEPS THAT REAL TALK

  ON HER LIPS

  READY TO STIMULATE YOUR MIND

  WITH WORDS THAT GET INSIDE

  THE SOUL

  SO DEEP AND BEAUTY THAT
WILL KEEP YOUR EYES

  INFATUATED FOR A LIFETIME.

  SHE'S SASSY

  SHE'S FLY

  JUST AS WITTY AS SHE IS

  CANDY FOR THE EYE

  DYNAMITE I CAN CALL HER

  CUZ HER LOVE IS EXPLOSIVE

  HER PERSONA UNTOUCHABLE LIKE GET BACK

  BUT THE MAGNET IN HER SOUL

  LIKE.....GET CLOSER

  SO HERE I STAND... LIKE USHER

  FOREVER IN YOUR EYES....LIKE MINT CONDITION

  BUT LIKE LEDISI YOU WONDER

  IF I'LL BE HERE IN THE MORNING

  BUT

  GIRL , LIKE TREY SONGS, I GOTTA GO..

  AND LIKE DAVE HOLLISTER, .I CAN'T STAY

  DONT WANNA GET CAUGHT LIKE PRINCE, IN THE PURPLE RAIN

  OF YOUR REJECTION

  SO I EXTEND MY HAND ONCE

  OKAY TWICE

  YEAH ALRIGHT... THREE TIMES,

  SO LIKE HOWARD HEWITT, GET MY HEAD TO SPINNING

  AND LIKE AVANT SAID, DONT SAY NO

  JUST SAY YES

  CUZ FORGET TYRESE,

  YOU MY SWEETLADY

  AND LIKE COMMON

  I WANT U

  SO WASSUP SWEETLADY

  I'M LIKE JAMIE....LETS MAKE IT DO WHAT IT DO

  He hadn't been on the mic for three minutes, and already, ladies were throwing dollars on stage like he was taking off his clothes and rockin their world with his sexy body. She‘d never known people to throw money on stage at an open mic poetry night.

  "Soaking wet are we?" Karla smirked in Roni's direction. "Even I have to admit, that poem was on point!" she smiled.

  "Yeah, girl! He's good. That was some deep shit!" Angela chewed on her gum hard and fast, in an annoying, ghetto way.

  Roni was still taken aback and trying to make the decision of whether to reveal herself to Jonathan or just try to walk out without being seen.

  He was at the end of his final poem, when the thick mental fog of her dazed state cleared.

  "MY LOVE IS THE SHIT

  IT CAN FLOW THROUGH THE CABLES OF YOUR HEART

  AND APPEAR ON THE SCREEN OF YOUR SOUL

  YOUR FACE WILL SHOW THE WORLD THE CLEAR PICTURE