Coming Soon
Chapter 1
It was a late Saturday evening in April when twenty-seven-year-old Ginger Brown modeled a royal-blue, two-piece satin suit as her best friends, Portia Dunn and Celeste Harper, encouraged her to sashay and turn, then turn and sashay again. Ginger had recently bought the suit at Macy’s to wear to church on Sunday. It was Women’s Day and Ginger was looking forward to emceeing the afternoon service.
Portia and Celeste were seated on opposite ivory lounge chaise chairs in Ginger’s immaculate living room in the city of Westchester, a small suburb just west of Chicago.
The thirty-two-inch space between the women that were seated served as a catwalk for Ginger to strut.
“All right, Ginger, girl, show us what you’re working with,” Celeste encouraged.
Ginger unbuttoned the jacket, slipped it off her arms, then swung it over her left shoulder to reveal the silver-gray satin camisole she wore underneath. Gracefully, she turned away from Portia and Celeste, then strutted back to her starting point just at the archway that separated the living room from the dining room.
As Ginger walked, Portia’s smile quickly faded when she noticed black and blue bruises on Ginger’s right shoulder next to the spaghetti strap of her camisole. She sat straight up in the chaise chair. “Ginger, what the heck is that on your shoulder?” Portia’s outburst startled both Ginger and Celeste.
Ginger had no clue the boxing match from the previous night with her live-in boyfriend was evident. She was usually careful not to allow any bruises to show. Had she known the marks were visible, Ginger never would’ve taken off her jacket.
“Oh, girl, it’s nothing,” she said, quickly putting the jacket back on. “Ronald got a little high last night. Y’all know how he gets.” Ginger’s poor excuse for being a punching bag was for her own benefit. Truth be told, she was quite embarrassed. How could she have been so careless and allow anyone to see the bruises?
When Ronald came home the evening before with his eyes glazed, Ginger knew he had brought trouble home with him. She was in the kitchen, standing at the stove, frying pork chops.
He approached Ginger reeking of marijuana and lifted the lid of a pot that sat on the stove. “What is this?” he asked. His voice was almost a whisper.
Nothing infuriated Ginger more than when Ronald asked her a question that he already knew the answer to. Anyone in their right mind could see that the pot was half filled with white rice. Evidently smoking weed had taken Ronald’s common sense away.
Ginger exhaled a loud sigh of frustration. She hated when he asked stupid questions.
“It’s rice, Ron. I’m gonna make gravy to go with it.”
Ronald placed the lid back on the pot, then turned to walk away. Ginger thought the conversation was over but was mistaken as Ronald spun back around. He slammed his open palm against Ginger’s face and with all the strength he had, he pushed her backward. He sent her flying down, but on the way to the floor, Ginger’s right shoulder connected with the edge of the marble-top kitchen table. She screamed out in pain.
“Who the *%# @ are you huffin’ and puffin’ at, huh?” Ronald stood over Ginger glaring down at her. He drew his leg back in preparation to kick Ginger in her abdomen but stopped short. “I told you about catching an attitude every time I ask you a question.”
Ginger lay on the kitchen floor moaning and wincing in pain. Her right shoulder was on fire.
“I don’t want rice and gravy. Throw that crap out and make me some corn.” With that being said, Ronald exited the kitchen.
Now Ginger stood in the living room having to defend the cause for the bruises to her friends. Celeste stood, went to Ginger, and forcefully pulled the jacket off her shoulders to get an up close and personal look at the marks. Portia came and stood next to Celeste. The bruises were blue, black, and purple.
It wasn’t the first, second, or third time Celeste and Portia witnessed bruises on Ginger. They’ve been begging Ginger to end her abusive relationship with Ronald ever since she moved him into her home three years ago.
Last month, Ginger showed up at church with a swollen busted lip that she tried to hide with lipstick. Portia and Celeste were so angry that they wanted to go to Ginger’s house and confront Ronald, but just like all the times before, Ginger had begged them not to interfere. Now the three best friends stood in Ginger’s living room facing the issue again for what seemed like the one-hundredth time.
“Is that fool still pounding on you, Ginger?” Celeste asked.
Ginger’s heart raced as tears began to run down her chocolate-colored face. “Celeste, please understand,” she pleaded.
Portia frowned. “Understand what, Ginger? That fool is out of control, and you need to get away from him.”
“I’m calling the police.” Celeste returned to her chair for her purse. Her cell phone was inside.
Ginger was quickly on Celeste’s heels. As soon as Celeste pulled her phone from her purse, Ginger snatched it out of her hand. “No, Celeste.”
Celeste placed her right hand on her hip and shifted all of her weight onto one leg.
“No? What the heck do you mean ‘no’? Ronald needs to be locked up, and you need to be institutionalized for allowing him to beat on you.”
By the expression on Ginger’s face, Portia knew Celeste’s words had hurt her.
Celeste had basically accused Ginger of being crazy.
Portia came and stood next to Ginger. “Celeste, I know you’re upset but—”
“Upset?” Celeste had cut Portia’s words off. “Furious is what I am, Portia. And why are you so doggone calm about this? We’ve been dealing with this crap for three years. Did you get a good look at her back?”
Ginger placed her face in her hands and cried. Not only was she embarrassed, but if a call was made to the police and Ronald found out about it, Ginger knew she’d be in even more trouble with him.
Portia wrapped her arms around Ginger. “It’s okay, sweetie. We’re gonna get through this. We’ll work it out.”
Celeste couldn’t comprehend Portia’s attitude about the situation Ginger was in.
“How do you suppose we ‘work this out,’ Portia? Huh?”
Portia guided Ginger to a chair and sat her down. “I don’t know, Celeste. Let’s talk about it.”
In Celeste’s mind, talking wasn’t necessary. She hastily left the living room and walked toward Ginger’s bedroom. “Yeah, okay. You and Ginger talk. I know what I’m gonna do.”
In Ginger’s bedroom, Celeste opened the closet door. She found a small suitcase and threw it on the bed. Next, she snatched blouses, dresses, and pants off of racks and threw them on top of the suitcase. Ginger and Portia came into the bedroom and saw Celeste on a rampage. Just as Celeste was headed for the dresser, Ginger ran and stood in between it and her friend.
“What are you doing, Celeste?” Ginger asked her.
“I’m helping you get through this. That’s what I’m doing. Get out of my way.”
More tears ran down Ginger’s face. “Ron apologized. He promised to never hit me again.”
“That’s what he said the last time, and the time before that, Ginger,” Portia interjected from the doorway. “When are you gonna learn that Ronald is sick?”
Ginger looked at her best friends through teary eyes. “Y’all just don’t understand. He told me ...” She couldn’t finish her sentence as she choked back tears.
Celeste placed her hands on her hips again. “He told you what?”
Ginger knew that if she revealed what Ronald had told her years ago, all heck would break loose. She hesitated. She wondered how she could pacify this situation and calm Portia and Celeste down.
“He told you what?” Celeste’s outburst startled Ginger.
Ginger opened her mouth and spoke softly. She looked into Portia’s eyes because she didn’t want to see the expression on Celeste’s face. “Ron once told me that he’d kill me if I ever left him.”
Both Celeste’s and Portia’s eyes grew wide. “What?” they screamed at the same time.
Celeste became enraged. She was even more eager to pack Ginger’s clothes and get her out of that house. “Move out of my way, Ginger.”
Ginger pleaded with Celeste to calm down. “Celeste, please understand.”
“Why do you keep saying that, Ginger? What is it that you want us to understand? You ain’t married to that fool. Ron won’t even give you his last name. He’s too darn lazy to get a job. All he does is smoke weed all day. He’s living in your house while you go to work every day. You pay the mortgage, utilities, and you buy the groceries. Ron has you so twisted that he makes you ask his permission to go to church. Plus he’s ugly. I don’t see how you can stand to look at him let alone sleep with him. You deserve better, Ginger. So, since you don’t have enough brains to pack your bags, I’m gonna do it for you.” Celeste pushed Ginger aside and opened the top dresser drawer, then grabbed a handful of bras and panties and threw them on the bed.
Ginger grabbed her underwear from the bed and brought them back to the dresser.
“Stop it, Celeste.”
Celeste ignored Ginger and proceeded to another drawer. She grabbed another handful of clothes and took them to the bed. On her second trip, she looked at Portia standing in the bedroom doorway. “What the heck are you just standing there for? You should be helping me.”
Portia didn’t move. She was torn. She knew Celeste was doing the right thing by packing Ginger’s clothes, and of course she should be helping Celeste. But Ginger just said that Ronald would kill her if she left him.
Portia watched as Celeste transferred clothes from the dresser to the suitcase; then she watched Ginger transfer clothes from the suitcase back to the dresser. Portia knew Celeste was out of control, but then again, enough was enough.
Ginger was crying and begging Celeste to stop trying to pack her clothes.
Celeste forcefully took the clothes from her hand and looked at her. “Look, Ginger, I’m sick of this crap. Now, either we pack your clothes and you come home with me, or we pack Ron’s clothes and put them out on the curb. One of you is getting the heck out of here tonight. Now, since this is your house, I’ll let you decide. Because if he touches you again, I’m gonna pay somebody to touch him. So, who’s leaving—you or Ron?”
Ginger didn’t answer Celeste. She stood in the middle of her bedroom crying.
Celeste waited five seconds, then threw the clothes on top of the suitcase and walked to the dresser to grab more. Ginger reached out to try to stop Celeste but lost her balance and fell. She managed to grab a hold of Celeste’s left leg. Celeste stumbled but was able to deliver the suitcase’s deposit. Ginger begged and cried for Celeste to stop packing her clothes. “Celeste, please. Please, Celeste.”
Celeste dragged Ginger from the dresser to the bed as she continued to pack her clothes. “Portia, get her off of me.”
Portia had a decision to make. She could only pray that Ginger would eventually forgive her and Celeste for doing what had to be done. She went to Ginger and pulled her arms from around Celeste’s legs. “Ginger, we gotta do this.”
Ginger stopped fighting. She knew that her friends were relentless, and they were not going to let her stay in her home as long as Ronald resided there also. But Ginger also knew that she needed to come up with a plan to get Portia and Celeste to leave before Ronald got home. “Okay. Okay, I’ll go to the police station.” She told them what they wanted to hear.
Portia released Ginger’s arms. “You will?”
“Now you’re talking like you got some common sense,” Celeste said.
“Get your big butt off of me, Portia.”
Portia stood, and so did Ginger.
Celeste grabbed a suitcase by the handle and instructed Ginger and Portia to take one each. “Ginger, you’re coming home with me after we leave the police station.”
“Okay.” Ginger didn’t argue. She wanted them to leave. She had a plan.
Celeste, Ginger, and Portia rode in silence to the police station. It was when Celeste drove into a parking spot that Ginger said from the backseat, “I’m not doing it.”
Both Portia and Celeste turned around and looked at her.
Celeste was furious. “What the heck you mean you’re not doing it?”
Ginger turned away from her friends and looked out the window. “I changed my mind.”
“Now what?” Portia asked Celeste.
Without a word, Celeste removed her key from the ignition. “I’ll be right back.” She opened the door and got out of the car. After she shut the door, she pressed a button on her remote. The feature that Celeste had on her car was the same feature that the police use as car bait. Once a button is pressed on the remote, the car can’t be opened from the inside. Because the windows were raised, Celeste couldn’t hear the foul names Ginger called her as she ran inside the police station.
Two minutes later, Celeste returned to her car with an African American woman, Officer Phyore Montgomery.
Celeste pressed the button on her remote again and opened the passenger door.
“Ginger is the one sitting in the backseat.”
Officer Montgomery knelt and looked in the backseat. She asked Portia to get out of the car. With Portia out of the way, Officer Montgomery sat in the front passenger seat and faced Ginger. “Are you Ginger Brown?”
Ginger sat in the backseat with her mouth shut.
“I’m Officer Montgomery. I’m here to help you. Have you been abused?”
Not a word from Ginger. Celeste stuck her head inside the car. “Open your darn mouth, Ginger.”
Officer Montgomery patted Celeste’s arm. “Mrs. Harper, please calm down. Give her time.”
Celeste rolled her eyes at Ginger and walked away.
Officer Montgomery saw tears streaming down Ginger’s face. “Miss Brown, I’ve been on the force for twelve years. I’ve dealt with all kinds of abuse. Nine times out of ten, domestic abuse turns into murder because the victim is too afraid to report it. Your friends brought you here because they love you and want to help you.”
Ginger looked through the glass and saw Portia and Celeste glaring at her. “They kidnapped me. Isn’t that a crime? Can I file charges against them for bringing me here against my will?” Ginger had just lied to Officer Montgomery. Back at her house she had agreed to come to the police station just to get Portia and Celeste to leave before Ronald got home.
Officer Montgomery had already gotten the full story from Celeste why she and Portia had brought Ginger to the police station. “They brought you here to save your life.”
Officer Montgomery didn’t even entertain the thought of allowing Ginger to press charges against her best friends. “Have you been abused?” she asked Ginger again.
Ginger turned her head in the opposite direction. Tears ran down her face, but she refused to answer the question.
“Miss Brown, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me,” Officer Montgomery said.
“Mrs. Harper said that your boyfriend threatened to kill you if you told. Is that true? Because if it is, I will personally see to it that you’re placed in protective custody. We can have him picked up tonight.”
Nothing from Ginger.
Portia became frustrated. “Ginger, tell her about the time when you were five months pregnant and Ron kicked you in the stomach. That caused you to miscarry.”
Officer Montgomery’s mouth fell open. “Is that true?” she asked Ginger.
A tear dripped from Ginger’s chin.
Officer Montgomery pled with her. “The only way to stop this is to press charges. If you don’t press charges, it won’t stop. He’s not worth your life. I know you’re afraid, but you have to admit to me that he put his hands on you.”
Ginger focused on someone walking across the street. Officer Montgomery sat in silence for a few seconds. “You are a beautiful black woman. Learn to love yourself. It hurts me deeply to get called to a house because of domestic abuse and find one of my black sisters dead. And I’m gonna tell you something, Miss Brown. Eventually he will kill you. It happens like that all the time. So, get out while you can.”
Officer Montgomery waited another few seconds for Ginger to confess that she was being abused, then got out of the car and looked at Portia and Celeste. “I can’t do anything without a complaint from her.”
That didn’t please Portia. “This is bull crap. Look at her shoulder.”
“I understand, but I can’t make an arrest unless she files a formal complaint.”
“So, what are we supposed to do?” Celeste asked.
Officer Montgomery shrugged her shoulders. “There’s nothing anyone can do. Miss Brown has to help herself first.”
“But what if we say that we actually saw her boyfriend hit her?” asked Portia.
Officer Montgomery sighed. She understood Portia and Celeste’s frustration, but she couldn’t take a false statement. Neither of them had actually seen Ronald put his hands on Ginger. They’d only seen the marks he left behind.
“If Miss Brown is not willing to file a complaint, according to the law, to heck with what anyone else says.”
Celeste stormed around to the driver’s door, got in, and slammed the door. Portia sat in the passenger seat. Officer Montgomery watched Celeste’s tires burn rubber as she pulled away from the curb.
Celeste drove back to Ginger’s house so that Portia could get her car. She pulled into the driveway and parked next to Ronald’s car. “The fool is home. Hurry up and get out, Portia.”
Ginger yelled from the backseat. “Let me out, Celeste.” She knew Celeste was gonna try to take her home with her.
“No!”
Portia looked at her friend. “Celeste, Ginger is a grown woman. We can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do. Look what just happened at the police station.”
“I don’t care. If you hurry up and get out, I can drive off.”
Ginger yelled again. “Celeste, I wanna get out of this car.”
Celeste switched the gear to park, took her foot off the brake pedal, then turned her upper torso around to face Ginger. “You know that if you go in there with your bags, Ron’s gonna go off.”
“Well, then, keep the bags, Celeste. I’ll get them from you tomorrow.”
“If you live that long,” Celeste commented.
Ginger couldn’t believe what her friend had just said to her. “You know what, Celeste. Just because you live in a fairy-tale world with the perfect husband and the perfect job don’t make you any better than anyone else.”
“What the heck are you talking about, Ginger? I’m trying to keep this fool from killing you. You better wake up and realize who really loves you. I’m tired of begging you to save your own life. If you wanna let that fool knock your brains out, then that’s on you ’cause I’m through with it.” Celeste opened her door, got out, and then pressed the seat forward.
Ginger climbed out of the backseat. Portia exited the passenger seat and walked around to the driver’s side where Ginger and Celeste stood.
Ginger looked at both of them. “I love y’all. I will see you at church in the morning.”
Portia hugged Ginger. “I love you too, sis.”
Ginger let go of Portia and looked at Celeste. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I know you love me.”
Celeste made no effort to hug Ginger. She was angry. “Yeah, whatever. I gotta go.”
She got in the car and backed out of the driveway.
“You know Celeste is a hothead,” Portia said to Ginger when they were left alone in Ginger’s driveway. “But she only wants what’s best for you. We both do.”
“Portia, I love Ronald. And I know that he loves me too.” Ginger made the statement as though she was simply telling Portia what time of day it was. It saddened Portia that Ginger may have actually convinced herself of that lie. “Ginger, is he loving you when he’s bouncing you off the walls?”
Ginger lowered her head and didn’t respond.
“Do me a favor, Ginger,” Portia said. “When Ronald goes to sleep tonight, take a picture of his privates. I wanna see if it’s been dipped in platinum. That’s gotta be the reason you’re tolerating this crap.” With that being said, Portia proceeded to her car.
When Ginger entered the living room, she saw Ronald lying on the sofa watching a basketball game.
“What did I tell you about leaving this house with dirty dishes in the sink?”
Ginger closed the door behind her and stood with her back against it. “I’m sorry, baby, I forgot.”
Ronald looked at the suit she was wearing. “Where have you been?”
Ginger nervously looked down at her suit. “I went to see a lady from the church. She’s a seamstress. I needed to get my skirt hemmed for church tomorrow.”
Ronald repositioned himself on the sofa. “You went to church last Sunday. You ain’t going tomorrow.”
Ginger started to panic. Her name was on the church program. She’d been looking forward to emceeing the Annual Women’s Day program for the past three months. In preparation for the service, Ginger had been walking around the house pretending to hold a microphone in her hand, practicing her speech. What would happen if she didn’t show up at church? Folks were depending on her to be there. Ginger had to be at church; she just had to.
She walked to Ronald and knelt down to kiss his lips softly before heading to the kitchen to wash the three glasses that she, Portia, and Celeste had drank tea from.
“Next time, I’m not gonna ask any questions about dirty dishes being left in the sink, Ginger. If you’re gonna act like a two year old, then I’ll treat you like one.”
“It won’t happen again,” Ginger said over her shoulder.
“Make me a sandwich,” he ordered.
Five minutes later, Ginger brought Ronald a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich on a small wooden lap dinner tray. Next to the sandwich was a glass of grape Kool-Aid.
“Where’s my napkin?” he asked. “And you know I like ice in my Kool-Aid.”
Ginger quickly returned to the kitchen for a napkin and to put ice cubes in the glass of Kool-Aid. “Can I go to church tomorrow?” she asked as she gave Ronald the napkin and Kool-Aid.
Ronald looked at her. “Didn’t we just come to the conclusion that you went last Sunday?”
“Yeah, but tomorrow is the annual Women’s Day celebration. I’ve been asked to be the Mistress of Ceremony.” Ginger stood in the middle of her living room, looking at this unemployed man who was not her husband lie on her sofa and watch the television she paid for, praying that he would permit her to go to church. It dawned on Ginger that Celeste was right. Ronald was ugly.
Ronald drank from the glass and swallowed. “I should not let you go anywhere ’cause I’m tired of telling you about leaving dirty dishes in the sink.”
With her suit still on, Ginger sat next to Ronald and pretended to be into the game he was watching. When he finished his meal and drank the last of his Kool-Aid, she took the plate and glass into the kitchen and washed them. Then she turned the kitchen light off, came back in the living room, and stood nervously by the sofa. “Honey, I know you’re into the game, but I was wondering if you’ve decided to let me go to church.”
Ronald made Ginger stand there for a long thirty seconds while he continued to watch the game before he asked, “What’s in it for me?”
Ginger didn’t say a word. She knew what to do next. Right there in the living room, she stripped naked, then knelt before Ronald. He grabbed Ginger by the back of her head and guided her face toward his lap.
Celeste walked in the door and slammed it shut behind her. Her husband, Anthony, was talking on the telephone with their pastor. He watched as Celeste threw her purse and keys on the sofa next to him and walked toward the rear of the house.
“It was good talking with you too, Pastor. We’ll see you at church in the morning.”
Anthony disconnected the call and went to find Celeste. He found her in the master bathroom sitting at her vanity removing makeup from her eyes with a cotton ball. In the mirror, Celeste saw Anthony leaning against the door frame watching her. She didn’t acknowledge him, but by how far Celeste’s lips were poked out, he sensed that she was upset.
Celeste tossed the cotton ball toward the trash can but missed. Anthony picked it up from the floor and threw it in the receptacle, then went and sat next to her. Celeste inched over to allow him more room.
Anthony faced his wife. “Let me guess. Ginger and Ron, right?”
“Yep, you guessed it.”
Anthony extended his legs and crossed his ankles. He leaned backward and placed his elbows on Celeste’s vanity. “What did that punk do this time?”
“He hit her again, Tony. You should see her shoulder. Bruises are every-darn-where.”
“She showed them to you?” Anthony asked.
“No. Evidently Ginger didn’t know the marks were there. Portia and I saw the bruises while she was modeling the suit she’s wearing to church tomorrow; that is, if Ron even allows her to go to church. You know how he is.”
Anthony could only imagine how Celeste behaved when she saw Ginger’s bruises.
“You didn’t freak out did you, Celeste?”
Celeste was applying moisturizer to her face when she stopped and looked at her husband. “Heck, yeah, I freaked as I should have. What would you do if your best friend was getting his butt whipped all the time?”
That wasn’t the first time that Anthony had to remind Celeste to stay out of Ginger’s business. “Look, baby, you and Portia have to come to the conclusion that Ginger is an adult. You can’t live her life or make decisions for her, nor can the two of you fight her battles. Yeah, Ron is a punk. But until Ginger decides that she’s had enough of his crap, there’s nothing you, Portia, or anyone else can do.
“My concern is you. You’re my wife, and I don’t want you to have a stroke or develop ulcers over Ginger and Ron’s issues. The only thing you can do for Ginger is pray for her and be there when she needs you.”
Tears ran down Celeste’s face. “Portia and I took her to the police station, but she wouldn’t even get out of the car. I went inside and got a female cop, a sister, and brought her to Ginger, but she sat in the backseat and wouldn’t open her mouth. Portia and I looked like two fools.”
Anthony grabbed Celeste’s hand and kissed her open palm. “You and Portia have been going through this with Ginger for years. Nothing will change until she faces reality and realize that it’s up to her, and only her, to get away from him, so let’s change the subject. How did your doctor’s appointment go this morning?”
Celeste wiped the tears from her eyes. “And that’s another thing that’s getting on my nerves, Tony. I’m sick of being disappointed every month. We’ve gone to see three specialists, and none of them can tell us why we can’t get pregnant. Today, Dr. Bindu took my temperature and gave me an ovulation predictor. He said that our best chances of becoming pregnant is between now and next Friday.”
Anthony stood behind Celeste and massaged her shoulders. What he didn’t know was that his loving wife, the wife he cherished, the wife he desperately wanted to have a baby with, had just lied to him. “So, what are we waiting on?”
Celeste dismissed Anthony’s question and asked one of her own. “What am I gonna do about Ginger?” She was not in a rush to make a baby because a baby would never be made, not if it meant her body had to be involved.
Anthony let out a loud sigh. “Celeste, I want you to let Ginger take care of Ginger. And I want you to come to bed so I can take care of you.”
In her bedroom, Portia pressed the play button on her answering machine. She listened to her messages as she undressed.
“Hey, beautiful. What’s up with you? It’s me, David. I’ve been calling you all day. Hit me on my cell when you get in.” (Beep)
David insisted that Portia call him on his cellular phone. She wasn’t worthy of his home number. Besides, his wife could answer.
“Hi, Portia. This is Greg. I’ve been trying to hook up with you for two weeks. What’s up? Are you missing in action or what?” (Beep)
Every two weeks, like clockwork, when Gregory’s wife gets a headache, he always wound up in Portia’s bed.
“Portia, this is Richard. Why are you avoiding me? You think a brotha ain’t got nothin’ else better to do than track you down?” (Beep)
Three days ago, Portia received a dozen red roses at the car dealership where she works as an administrative assistant. The inside card read, My dearest Tamara, I love you always, Richard.
Portia did a little detective work and found out that Tamara was Mrs. Richard Clark.
“Hello, Portia. This is Gary. I’m in town for a few days. Let’s get together. Give me a call at my mother’s house. 555-3743. I would love to see you.” (Beep)
Gary Stokes was stupid fine. He’d always been Portia’s weakness.
Forty-five minutes later, Portia was standing at her stove unwrapping a king-sized milk chocolate Hershey’s candy bar. She placed it into a small saucepan, then added two pats of butter. She heated the saucepan on low, then stirred the chocolate and butter until they blended well. On the sink next to the stove was a bowl of fresh, ripe, juicy sweet strawberries. Portia removed the melted chocolate from the heat, then dipped the strawberries, one by one, in the chocolate and laid them on a plate. She placed the plate in the freezer, then showered while the chocolate hardened. Fifteen minutes later, Portia removed the plate of strawberries from the freezer and set it on the sink next to an open bottle of Moscato. She filled a syringe with the wine and carefully inserted the needle into each strawberry and emptied the syringe. As she finished, she heard a soft knock on the front door and smiled.
She carried the plate of chocolate-covered strawberries into the living room with her.
Portia greeted Gary wearing a white sheer teddy and a smile. “Hi, there.”
Gary stood in the doorway looking as fine as he wanted to look. Six foot five inches of solid muscle walked past Portia and left a whiff of Pleasures in the wind. She shut the door and leaned against it, admiring Gary’s short, wavy hair. His goatee blended nicely with his mustache. His caramel-colored skin was as smooth as silk.
“Umph, umph, umph. It’s a shame your wife lets you travel alone.”
Gary’s mischievous smiled melted Portia. “Why is that?”
“Because you don’t know how to behave yourself.”
“That’s not true. I’m always on my best behavior when I’m away on business. It’s only when I come to Chicago that I get into trouble.”
Portia walked to Gary and wrapped her left arm around his neck while holding the plate of chocolate-covered strawberries in her right hand. “Is that what I am, ‘trouble’?”
He pulled Portia’s body closer to his. “With a capitol ‘T.’ But you’re the kind of trouble I don’t mind getting into, if you know what I mean.”
Portia picked up a chocolate strawberry from the plate and inserted it into Gary’s mouth. He bit into it, and when he tasted the wine, he smiled. “Um, yummy.”
Portia returned the smile. “You like?”
“I love.” Gary answered sinfully.
She set the plate of strawberries on the cocktail table and stood on her tippy toes to kiss Gary’s forehead, his left cheek, and his right cheek. Portia took her time and ran her tongue along his mustache from left to right. Gary picked her up, and she wrapped her thighs around his waist. The married man carried Portia to her bedroom, and there wasn’t any shame in their game.