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Neesa left without another word.
Desdemona closed the door and turned to face Reverend Hines. “We have a problem,” she said, eyeing the tall and wide man with the most beautiful dark brown complexion, short silver hair, and bright white toothy smile. He shoved his hands into the pockets of the robe. “You know that, right?”
His face became pensive as he claimed a seat on the brocade sofa adjacent to the windows offering the night view of Central Park across the street. “If you plan on keeping my money without my session, then we definitely do,” he said with calm.
She claimed one of the armchairs across from him, setting her tote on the floor beside her feet. “What makes our business together work is mutual respect and mutual protection,” she began. “Tonight, you pissed on both.”
He held up his hands. “You want to be paid for ass that just left me high and dry?”
She nodded. “Yes, because you tried to get three dicks wet for the price of one, and you almost exposed me to people I don’t know or trust. Lack of respect. Lack of protection. Two strikes.”
He frowned. “Two strikes.”
She slid her hand into her pocket and stroked her baton as she crossed her legs. “One more and you are off my list,” she explained, before offering him a smile that didn’t match the frost in her eyes. “Or. . . if you like, we can part ways now and promise to keep each other’s secrets.”
Knock-knock.
They both looked to the door to the suite.
“Housekeeping,” a female voice said.
“I didn’t order anything,” he said, rising to his feet.
In his haste, the bottom corner of his robe opened, and she was offered a disturbing glimpse of his penis dangling between his thighs.
Uncircumcised? Fix it, Jesus, she thought, mimicking the voice of Phaedra Parks, formerReal Housewives of Atlantacast member.
“It’s my wife,” Reverend Hines whispered from the door.
Desdemona sighed as she grabbed her tote and rose to her feet. “Strike three, Rev,” she said, before crossing the room with her hand extended.
He looked down at it and then back up at her, imploring with her eyes that she change her mind. She shook her head, refusing him.
With angry strides, he brushed past her and returned moments later to roughly press his prepaid flip phone against her palm. She gave him a withering look as she opened the door to the bathroom and stepped inside, closing it and leaning against the solid wood.
“Surprise!”
“Jennifer,” the reverend said, pretending to be surprised.
He really is a good actor. I guess it’s all the practice from his performances in the pulpit.
“And the Oscar goes to,” she mouthed, as she checked her hair and makeup in the mirror over the sink.
I really am too rich for this shit.
She paused with her fingers raking through her large curls when she heard a slight thump against the wall and a loud moan.
“I’m the only one she had to service. They were just going to watch.”
Her eyes widened, and she felt dread that he was going to screw his wife and force her to listen, fulfilling his kink to have sex in front of someone.
I’ve seen and done worse.
Desdemona sat down on the closed lid of the commode and withdrew her phone to scroll through Instagram.
Thump-thump-thump-thump.
She frowned, cutting her eyes from the feed of the online gossip site The Shade Room to the door. She thought of his wife, a short and rotund plain-looking woman who was active in his ministry and spoke with a soft, cartoonish voice.
