Read Online Second House from the Corner by Sadeqa Johnson - Free Book Online Page A

low-cut blouse and a skirt with a split.
    â€œYou okay?” he touched my chin.
    â€œYeah.”
    He dropped his hand on my thigh and I never wanted those shivers to stop.
    *   *   *
    Martin became all I could think about during the week, and the next Sunday I was the first one ready for church. Gran eyed me.
    â€œWhat the devil’s gotten into you?”
    â€œNothing, just didn’t want to be the cause of us being late today. I know how important church is to you.” I didn’t bat a lash.
    Gran let the moment pass.
    *   *   *
    I imagined that Daddy Gracious loved to see the women holding themselves and falling all over the place in the name of the Lord. He kept them juicy with sweat, ripe and heavy, so that they could give it up at offering time. The ushers would pass the plates around while Daddy walked up and down the center aisle, punctuating each thought with a whip of his cape.
    â€œDon’t put nothing in the basket that jingles, now. Don’t hurt Daddy’s ears.” Whip. “Give the Lord something that folds. And you’ll be blessed now.” Whip, whip. “Daddy’s got sensitive ears, now. Make sure you give something soft.” Whip, whip, whip. He’d give a swivel of the hips and then return to the pulpit. Nothing ever rattled in those plates. Even the broke folk put in dollars.
    After the collection, the congregation would pray over the money. But I never prayed. I had my eyes on Martin, eager for his signal to sneak away.
    *   *   *
    We were two months into hanging out in “that Fat Hog.” The clouds were drizzling, and I was glad that I had pulled my hair into a tight bun so it wouldn’t frizz up. Martin opened the door and then was beside me with one hand on my thigh, working the radio station with the other. We didn’t talk much, but the chemistry was connective. Martin stopped fiddling at a Keith Sweat song. Our time together was limited, and Martin seemed to advance on me more each week. I knew where we were heading, but I didn’t stop him. Little beads of drizzle pitter-pattered against the window while his hand moved to the top of my pantyhose. When I didn’t push his hand away, his head moved in close and I could smell Doublemint gum. I tilted my head and he kissed me. His fingers were cold on my belly, then caressing the rim of my panties, before his whole hand curved down my pelvis into my mess of hair. His fingers played my delicate spots like a melody on his guitar, soft and sweet, then long and hard. I was sweating under my clothes. With Martin I was gone. When he was around I didn’t have space to think, to breathe, which made it impossible to do anything but what he wanted. I rocked my hips to melt into his rhythm. I moved my butt back in the seat and tilted forward so that his finger could go deeper, and then the sensation was building and needed to be released and I let it. I reached out for the dashboard to steady myself. This time the orgasm ricocheted through my entire body. My forehead was wet and I when I finished gasping I was washed in shame.
    I worried that Martin would think differently of me, but when he moved his fingers from my panties he pulled me to his chest, kissed my forehead, and whispered.
    â€œYou’re almost ready.”
    The next week Martin used two fingers, removed my left breast from my bra, and pulled on it with his teeth until I thought I would lose my sanity. When he went back to the pulpit to play, I sat in the bathroom until I felt normal. I couldn’t get enough of that feeling that Martin gave me. During the week, I’d wait for Crystal to leave for work so I could run to the room we shared and touch myself, pretending that my hands were Martin’s. Once I had discovered the release, I couldn’t make myself stop. All I wanted was to feel myself shake and come undone. It wasn’t the same without Martin but it