Sex In The Sanctuary. Lutishia Lovely
of the Kingdom. Then there was the photograph he’d taken innocently enough with a female member at a church banquet. The picture had been copied onto a piece of blank, lacy wedding stationery filled with flowers and bells and framed with a caption reading “Mr. and Mrs. Cy Taylor” at the bottom and sent to him, along with a letter of undying love from the woman in the picture who had knowledge from God Himself that they were to be married. Why hadn’t God told him? There’d been tickets to concerts, plays, sporting events and ski trips. One lady had gone so far as to purchase the plane tickets for a weekend in the Bahamas she was sure he’d enjoy. She’d even assured him in the letter that accompanied the ticket confirmation that he’d have his own room. How generous! And Mother Moseley was always bringing one nice lady after another up to him after church to “just say a Sunday hello.”
And then there was Millicent, always there, always trying to help—looking at him, staring as if to read his very soul when she thought he wasn’t looking. He wished she didn’t feel the way she did about him. Most men would welcome the attention that being Cy Taylor brought, and Cy would gladly give it to them if he could. He’d much rather enjoy quiet anonymity in the background with a lady intelligent enough to carry herself in a manner that invited being pursued. Being hunted brought Cy no pleasure, but being the hunter, now, that was another story indeed! As if thinking about her had conjured her up, Cy looked down at his caller ID and noticed Millicent’s number. It had forwarded from the phone in his church office, and had a 911 after the number she’d entered. No, Cy didn’t like being pursued at all.
Waiting on Jesus—Your Mr. Right
The Jacuzzi’s jets pounded against Millicent’s back and leg muscles as she maneuvered herself into a position to better benefit from their rejuvenating force. This was her favorite part of the workout, the end. Aaron, her personal trainer, always laughed as she said this to him week after week while he guided her through the routine responsible for her slender thighs and tight abs, “My favorite part, the end!” She’d been adamant about not wanting to look like a weight lifter, just toned and healthy. She repositioned herself again and, with her long hair wrapped in a towel turban-style, slid down into the warm, bubbling water. She straightened her long legs out in front of her while holding on to the steel railings, causing her to float in the oversized pool. As always, her thoughts were on her husband, Cy Taylor. At least he would be her husband if she had anything to say about it!
Millicent, like most women, had fallen in lust with Cy the first time she saw him. Unlike most women, however, she obsessed over making this dream a reality. She’d pursued him with barely concealed zeal from the moment he became a member and was delighted when, after finding out about his investment background and asking him to look at her portfolio, he’d suggested they discuss it over lunch. By dessert, she’d decided. “I want this man.” Millicent usually got what she wanted.
She pulled herself from the bliss of the Jacuzzi bath and dressed for her dinner date with friend and prayer partner, Alison Groves, an evening she was sure she’d enjoy. Not only was Alison fun and quick-witted, but she was also one of the most spiritual women Millicent had ever met. It was her spirit in fact that had drawn Millicent to her one year during a women’s retreat in Palm Springs, headed by First Lady Vivian Montgomery. It was following a session Vivian had taught on “Waiting on Jesus—Your Mr. Right.” Millicent had been quite moved with some of the points Vivian had so eloquently presented. Not that she’d agreed with all of them, particularly those that admonished her to be still and know that God was God. Millicent was tired of waiting for Cy to make a move. Where he was concerned, she much preferred the Scripture that said faith without works was dead.
After Vivian’s presentation, Alison had seen tears in Millicent’s eyes. She walked over to the chair where Millicent was sitting and asked simply, “Are you okay?” They hit it off instantly and went to a restaurant that night instead of enjoying the conference’s buffet. They were best friends before dessert. Millicent even shared her dream of becoming Mrs. Cy Taylor with Alison. Alison listened intently and shared that she wasn’t picking up Millicent and Cy getting married in her spirit, but that she would be praying for her nonetheless. Alison never judged Millicent for believing it, though—that Cy was her husband—never told Millicent she was crazy or trippin’ or anything like her other friends had when she thought that Duane Lucas was her husband. She’d told everybody about that, in the manner of “name it, claim it,” and had been thoroughly embarrassed when instead of her he’d married a plain Jane named Melissa. After that she’d vowed never to be put out on “front street” again. In fact, she’d vowed never to tell anyone the next time God showed her who her husband was, but the words just seemed to come out of their own volition as she and Alison talked that night. From then on Alison had been there to support her, to pray with her, to hand her a Kleenex when she needed one. She’d already asked Alison to be her maid of honor.
Glancing briefly at the mirrored wall before leaving the fitness center, Millicent looked at her watch and quickened her pace. She’d spent too much time in the Jacuzzi and would be cutting it close to get to Beverly Hills and Crustacean, the chic Asian-inspired seafood establishment, by eight o’clock. She could already hear Alison whining. Alison, who was never late for anything, hated waiting on those who were. Millicent was the epitome of class and success as she crossed the parking lot, her slender build complemented by the narrow, cream-colored skirt she wore just above the knee of her shapely, bare legs. She’d topped it with a cream angora springtime sweater from the Donna Karan collection and contrasted the ensemble with her bone-and-rust-colored sling-back, low-heeled pumps and matching purse designed to perfection in Calvin Klein’s understated style. Her shoulder-length hair glistened against the setting sun, sans dye or weave, and was secured at the nape with a wide, bronze hair clip. She did a quick point and click, deactivating the alarm on her beige 2005 Infinity. Her cell phone rang as she opened the door, and she smiled, knowing it was Alison without glancing at the ID.
“I’m on my way,” she said, laughing while starting the engine and pulling out of her space.
“On your way?” questioned the soothing, masculine voice on the other end.
Millicent’s heart skipped a beat; the very person she’d been thinking about!
“Hello?”
“Cy?” Millicent didn’t know she’d been holding her breath until she let it out.
“Yes, just finished a meeting and heard your message.”
“Oh, right, I did call you earlier. How are you?”
“Besides this crazy traffic on the 405, I’m fine. You?”
“I’m fine, just finished another grueling workout with Aaron. You know how that brother can work you over.”
Cy knew too well, from personal experience. Aaron was one of the most popular personal trainers in Los Angeles, and almost everyone knew firsthand or had heard of his infamous, individually crafted workout routines. But he didn’t want to talk to Millicent about her physical fitness. He hadn’t wanted to call her at all, but hadn’t wanted to be rude either. After all, they were working on a committee together for one of the church’s economic development projects. He’d missed the last meeting, and hoped the call was concerning that. Then again, maybe he was just too much of a nice guy.
“So what’s going on?” Cy prompted, wanting to finish the conversation. “Do you have some information from the meeting at church?”
“No, well, yes actually, but that’s not why I was calling. The meeting was brief, basically a reiteration of the things we’d discussed Sunday afternoon, just an update and confirmation of all the businesses participating in the job fair. We’ll have over a hundred companies represented, and it looks like the classes will be fantastic, especially the introduction to computers course. The office has received a ton of calls concerning it. And your money management class is, as usual, one of the most requested in the lineup. Are you ready, instructor?”
Cy laughed. “For the class or the participants?”
“Both,” Millicent responded, smiling at Cy’s comment. She was glad he felt comfortable enough with her to admit