Sex In The Sanctuary. Lutishia Lovely

      “Vivian, are you okay?” The words of concern from Carla snapped Vivian out of her reverie.

      “I’m sorry, y’all. Yes, I’m okay—just a lot on my mind.”

      “Anything we can help you with, pray about?” Rebecca inquired softly.

      “Thanks Rebecca but no, not at this time. I just ask that we all keep this summit lifted in prayer as I believe it will be life changing. I pray it will be life changing to all who attend.”

      Carla eyed her friend, feeling the turmoil that was going on inside her. She knew that a special prayer would be sent up for Viv and for whatever was bothering her during her prayer time later. “Well, if we’re finished here,” she began, breaking the silence. “I’ve got two nappy-head kids on their way home soon. Best get to steppin’ so I can be there to greet them.”

      “Yes, ladies, we’re finished,” Vivian replied as the waiter placed the check on the table. “I’m really excited about this and appreciate all of your input. Any suggestions on where to have the next meeting?”

      “You guys are welcome to have it at my place.” Chanelle had just purchased a condo and was anxious to break it in. “I haven’t had a lot of people over and would love to practice my hosting skills. I also ran across a vegetable quiche recipe that I’d love to try out.”

      “Oh, Lord, here we go being somebody’s guinea pig.” Carla, blunt as always, spoke what others were thinking, “Can you cook, girl?” Chanelle nodded a yes. “Humph. I better bring a pizza, y’all, just in case.” They all laughed as Chanelle insisted no one would be poisoned or go hungry at her house, thanking Carla all the same for her generosity.

      “Who wants to pray?” Vivian asked.

      “I will!” Carla jumped in enthusiastically. “Lord knows we need to pray.” They all grabbed hands and bowed their heads. “Father God,” she began. “Please help Chanelle cook this food next week…” Everyone laughed in spite of themselves.

      Girls and boys didn’t look alike “down there”

      Cy was still smiling as he curled himself into his new toy, a midnight blue Bentley Azure. He was leaving City National Bank where he’d just met with his friend and business associate, Todd Green, a company vice president. Todd was the one who’d suggested that Cy get into real estate after liquidating his Internet stock and becoming an instant multimillionaire. So it was only right that Todd be taken to lunch with some of the one-and-a-half-million-dollar profit Cy had received from his latest real estate transaction.

      You could barely hear the mechanism that neatly folded the Azure’s convertible top into its niche across the backseat. Cy hit the CD button, and the melodies of Boney James filled the air from a system whose sound was so pure it was as if Boney himself was playing his saxophone from the passenger seat. Cy leaned back as he smoothly navigated through afternoon traffic in Beverly Hills, turning west on Wilshire Blvd., and heading to his next meeting in Century City, another investment opportunity. Cy was mulling over this possibility as he pulled up to the traffic light and heard a horn honk. It sounded a second time and Cy looked around. Next to him was an attractive blonde in a black Jaguar convertible. She took off her sunglasses, flashed a come-hither smile and shouted, “Hey! Love the car!” She then reached into her purse, pulled out a business card and, as the light was changing, tossed it onto his front seat, saying, “Call me. I’d love to buy you a drink.” Cy glanced at the card before continuing through the light and smiled as he shook his head back and forth. Women, how they did come on. That was the story of his life from the time he was six years old and Gracie May had pulled her pants down when they decided to play doctor in an isolated corner of the playground at recess.

      It was Cy’s first look at the female anatomy and his first knowledge that girls and boys didn’t look alike “down there.” He remembered being embarrassed and astounded before shouting out, “Look, y’all. Gracie May ain’t got no dingy!” That innocent admission had brought with it the attention of Mrs. Patterson, their first grade teacher, who marched over to the corner where they were “practicing” and asked the obvious, “What are you doing?” in a stern, commanding tone. By then Gracie May had pulled up her ruffled panties and tried to smooth her wrinkled skirt that had pieces of grass and a twig hanging on it from her lying on the ground. “Nothing,” Gracie had replied hastily, her head down, eyes wide and close to tears. They had to spend the rest of recess inside with Cy writing “I will not say bad words” across the chalkboard and Gracie penning “Pulling my pants down is bad” in her Big Chief tablet. He hadn’t realized that “dingy” was a bad word and thought belatedly that “thing” might have been a better choice.

      Cy’s cell phone rang as he neared the large business complex that housed the Morgan Group where his meeting would take place. He deftly navigated the crowded parking lot and slid the Azure effortlessly between two cars near the front of the building. He punched the speakerphone button as he turned off the CD. The world seemed almost silent with the absence of Boney’s “Sweet Thing.”

      “Cy speaking.”

      “Hey, Mr. GQ. It’s Pamela.”

      “Pamela! How are you?”

      “Better now that I’m listening to that gorgeous voice of yours. Busy?”

      “Yeah, heading into a meeting. Call you later?”

      “You better.”

      “I will. Goodbye.”

      The top of the Bentley clicked quietly into place as Cy reached back for his briefcase. Pamela. He smiled at the thought of her. Pamela was a sweet lady, funny and ambitious. She wasn’t bad to look at either. And most importantly, she wasn’t a member of Kingdom Citizens’. That was a huge plus. Dealing with Millicent had taught Cy a valuable lesson in the art of dating as far as the Christian community was concerned—stay away from family. “Family” was how the members of Kingdom Citizens’ referred to each other, and with good reason. Derrick and Vivian worked hard to maintain a close, friendly, family atmosphere in a church that was nearing five thousand members. Fellowshipping with family was one thing; dating family quite another. “Too close for comfort” took on new meaning when it came to a failed romance with a person you had to see every week and worse, even work with on occasion. Not that Millicent was unfriendly. No, she was kind and as efficient as always when they worked together. But Cy knew Millicent still carried a torch for him—well, everybody knew that—and it made him uncomfortable. He had told her in no uncertain terms after just a couple months of going out that while he found her to be a nice person and beautiful woman, she was not the woman for him. He knew she’d been hurt by that revelation, but Cy didn’t want to lead anybody on and have her hoping for something that could never be. After that, even though he was propositioned weekly if not daily by women at the church, he decided to steer clear of that pasture and look for companionship in another field.

      Not that his decision had stopped Millicent or other women of Kingdom Citizens’ and other churches from trying. Cy still received dozens of letters ranging from invitations for dinner to a “word from the Lord” about his future wife, usually the writer of the letter. One time it was a mother who’d written that she had dreamed about him and her daughter marrying. Cy remembered being tempted to reply to the mother and tell her to lay off the Tabasco before going to bed, but finally decided to ignore it and hope it and she would go away, along with the others. There had been