Preying Time

by Tracie Loveless-Hill

Genres: African American; African American Christian

Synopsis

God calls a special woman to be a pastor's wife. The Reverend Randall C. Harris, pastor of a large and prominent church, seems to have it all. Handsome, charismatic, influential, and well loved by his congregation and his beautiful wife, Reverend Harris is deeply spiritual. He's involved in the community and dedicated to his church members—especially the female members."Yes, I was a man of God, but first and foremost, I was a man." These words are Reverend Harris's rationale for the things he does that might not line up with Christian ethics. He truly believes he's entitled to pursue the delights of the flesh as long as he fulfills the duties of his ministry, but Reverend Harris will find that there are terrible consequences to pay when what should be praying time becomes preying time.

Release date: July 1, 2014

Publisher: Urban Christian

Print pages: 288

Sample

“Let the church say amen,” I said as the pastor of Unity Missionary Baptist Church. “And let’s all remember the sick and shut in. And let’s say a very special prayer for our dear mother Wiley, who, we all know, would be here tonight if she could. She would be right here, working hard for the Lord.”

Taking the purple silk handkerchief from the podium, I wiped the droplets of perspiration that had formed on my forehead. Then I asked, “Are there any more announcements?” as I took a second to look out at the congregation. I scanned the beautiful Unity Missionary Baptist Church, with its magnificent royal blue, gold and it’s oak wood color scheme. It was a little piece of heaven right here on earth, I thought. “No more announcements? Good. Then let us all stand for the benediction.”

After service, I walked to my office. Loosening my tie, I couldn’t help feeling that this has been a long, strenuous day. All I wanted to do was go home, relax in my recliner, and get some rest. My temples were throbbing, so I took several deep breaths as I looked in my desk drawer for some aspirin. I was sitting at my desk, rubbing my temples, when a knock at the door diverted my attention. “Now what?” I said under my breath. “Come in!” I yelled.

“Sorry to bother you, Pastor, but I was wondering if we could talk before you go home this evening.”

“Well, Sister Dixon, can’t it wait? I’m quite tired. And—”

“I don’t think so, Pastor,” she said, cutting me off. “You keep putting me off, and we really do need to talk.”

This was becoming too much for me. “Okay, Grace. Is tomorrow all right? Sister Harris is waiting for me, and I’m exhausted. How about in the afternoon?” I said, checking my agenda. “I’m having lunch with Reverend Cole and Reverend Leonard. I can come by around one fifteen or one thirty.”

“Look, tomorrow will come, and you will not show up. You always do this sort of thing to me,” she said between clenched teeth.

“Tomorrow,” I insisted, raising my voice, hoping that she would back down.

Leaning over my desk so that her nose was almost touching mine, and piercing me with her big brown eyes, she said angrily, “Tomorrow or else.”

A few seconds of silence passed, during which she blew her breath through gritted teeth, and then she turned quickly and walked out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Grace was very complex. On the one hand, she was one of the sweetest young ladies in my congregation, but if you made her mad, she could be very hard to get along with. I realized this when I began counseling her right after her mother passed. Her outburst only made the pounding in my head worse.

I searched the desk drawer for aspirin again, but I came up empty. Grabbing my jacket from the coatrack, I checked my pocket for my keys, walked out of my office, and locked up. When I stepped out into the sanctuary, there were a few members still hanging around, gossiping. I had noticed before that a few of my members liked to linger after service and talk with one another, a habit that irked me. I spoke briefly to a few members and even hugged a couple of them as I made my way to where my wife was standing.

Teri and I had been married for seven years now, and she was still one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid eyes on. Her skin was the color of buttery pecan and her eyes ... oh, those hazel eyes.

Her smile was like sunshine, and it would cause her dimples to appear like a rainbow after a storm. She kept her hair long enough to delicately frame her oval face. And hers was the face of an angel. She never had to work very hard to maintain her gorgeous five-foot-ten figure. Since the first time I laid eyes on her, she had always stood tall and regal. Teri Harris was the perfect woman for any good man, for me.

We met in college. I remembered that she had always had her head stuck in a book. I would do everything I could think of to get her to notice me, but she didn’t, until one day after a football practice. Coach Stovall had made us practice for two extra hours because we had lost a very important game the weekend before and he was pretty upset about it.

With only a few minutes to go before the serving lines closed in the cafeteria, we had to drag our sore, tired bodies to dinner while we were still in those dirty practice uniforms. No one was trying to be a gentleman; in fact, we were all still upset with Coach. We were so hungry that we didn’t realize we had pushed our way through the short line. That was until I heard someone behind me exhale loudly and say, “You are just rude!”

Slightly embarrassed, I turned to say that I was sorry, and that was when I saw that it was Teri Andrews. Now I was really embarrassed and ashamed at the same time.

“Sorry. You can go on ahead of me,” I told her.

“No thanks. That’s all right,” she shot back. “You guys practically knocked me over, trying to get to this food,” she scolded.

“No, please,” I insisted.

“Well, it is almost closing time, and I’m hungry. But just because you guys are on the football team, that doesn’t give you the right to go around being so rude!”

I let her finish. “Now that you’ve bitten my head off, is there any chance I can make this up to you?”

Her face said it all. “What?” Her hazel eyes gave me the once-over. “What did you just ask me?”

Trying to keep my nerve, I said, “May I please have a chance to make it up to you?” Before she could answer, I told her that I wanted to sit with her during dinner and talk. She was shocked by my candidness, and I have to admit that I was also, but I wasn’t going to let the chance to get to know her go by. “I see that you’re all alone, and I promise to be a good guy.”

This made her smile.

Good, I thought, feeling relieved.

We got our food and found a seat. We talked, and I learned that she was from Chicago, the daughter of a Baptist minister. She was majoring in both sociology and criminology, and she revealed that she one day hoped to work for the federal government. Great, I thought as I listened to her talk.

I told her that I was from Memphis and that I was an associate minister at my church. This took her by surprise. I also told her that I had aspirations of becoming a pastor of my own congregation one day.

After dinner I walked her back to her dorm and told her that I would like to see her again. That is, if she could take her head out of her books long enough.

She laughed her bubbly laugh, which I had since grown so fond of. As I gazed into her hazel eyes, she whispered, “Sure.”

I was at a loss for words.

“We can eat together tomorrow and talk some more. You are pretty funny, you know,” she said as she turned to walk into the front entrance of her dorm.

Quickly regaining my senses, I blurted, “That’ll work,” before she was inside. “Thank you, Lord,” I found myself saying out loud, not caring who might overhear me, as I ran to my dorm to shower and study. I couldn’t study or sleep much that night, as I was thinking about those alluring hazel eyes.

And even as I walked up to her today, Teri Harris was still breathtaking to me.

“Sweetheart, I’ll walk you over to the parsonage, and then I’ll need to leave for a few minutes. I forgot that I have some business to attend to tonight,” I told her.

“Oh? Is there anything I can do for you? Would you like for me to go along with you?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“No, sweetheart, there’s nothing for you to worry yourself about. Anyway, it should take only a few minutes.”

“Are you sure, Randall?” I could see the concern intensifying in her eyes.

I smiled at her. I found her concern touching. I assured her everything was fine and walked her home. Walking back to the parsonage, I looked at her out of the corner of my eye to see if she had bought my story. If she hadn’t, it didn’t show. She was talking about something that I didn’t care to pay attention to. I had only one thing on my mind after the confrontation with Grace.

I loved my wife with all that I had in me, but I was a man of means . . . and sometimes I needed a little something extra. I have always felt that what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you. And I had always tried my best to shield my wife from my extracurricular activities.

I was called to preach the word at an early age. As a child, I always felt that I had to carry myself in a different manner from the other boys in the neighborhood. No, I never had much time for a girlfriend. It wasn’t like the girls were not after me. I was just more into my studies at the time. I was called Mother’s golden boy because all the elders of the church thought that I was special. And the parents were always trying to fix their daughters up with me by going through my mother. But she would always politely tell them that I had more important things to do. I felt that I was missing out on a lot of the fun that the other boys were having, but I couldn’t disappoint the people of the church. And most certainly not Mama.

After all, I was the Reverend Randall Creighton Harris, pastor of the prestigious Unity Missionary Baptist Church. Yes, I was a man of God, but first and foremost, I was a man—a man who sometimes spread himself just a little too thin. And now I felt it was time for some catch-up—as long as I did not include God in my mess. First of all, I was the secretary for the Ministers Alliance. Second, I was a mentor and counselor for the juvenile delinquency program. Third, I was a member and a past adviser of our local chapter of Omega Psi Phi Fraternity. Lastly, I met at least once a week at the Boys and Girls Club to counsel them on their mentoring program.

I felt that I needed a little something extra tonight, and that something extra was Raychell. Raychell was a young lady who was trying to get through school. She was working on a degree in social work. I sometimes gave her gifts of money to help her out. I called them gifts because I would never think about paying a woman for sex.

When I arrived at her apartment, she was wearing one of those sexy nightgowns that she liked to tease me with. Oh yes, I could see that she had really missed her man. To me, she was really looking good!

Raychell was about five feet four, slim, and the color of dark chocolate. She had the most sensuous mouth I had ever seen on a woman. Her lips were like soft pillows of satin and were a clear sign of her West Indian heritage. Her teeth indicated that she truly believed in oral hygiene, and she had a wickedly sexy smile. Her breasts weren’t as large as I would’ve liked them to be, but they were like perky little melons, the ones that could fit perfectly in my mouth.

I could feel my mouth begin to water as my eyes followed her body downward to her slim yet curvaceous hips, her perfectly rounded butt, and her well-proportioned, slightly bowed legs.

As I walked through her front door, I could see that she had everything set out and waiting for me. The incense was burning, and the weed was on the table.

“How long can you stay tonight?” she asked sadly.

“Not too long,” was my answer. “I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. You know I had to stop over and check on my baby,” I continued.

“Well, come on over here and relax for a while. I have everything out and waiting just for you.” She walked over to the couch, sat, and patted the pillow next to her. “You do realize that our times together are growing shorter and shorter, don’t you?” She readjusted her body on the beige leather couch.

“Yes, but you also know I’m a very busy man with a lot of obligations.”

“Do you want to spend more time with me?” She pouted, turning me on even more with her delicious lips.

“You know I do, Ray.” I loved to call her that name for short.

“Then give up some of your obligations.”

I felt myself getting irritated. “We seem to go through this every time and . . .”

“I know, sweetheart,” she said, pulling me toward her on the couch. “Just let me take care of you right here, right now, tonight,” she whispered as she placed burning kisses on my face and neck. When I relaxed all my senses, she sat up. I watched carefully as she placed a cigar in her mouth and flicked the lighter. “Here. Take this,” she said, handing me the lit blunt. “Let me massage your shoulders for you.”

I took slow, deep pulls from the weed-packed cigar, held the smoke in my lungs for a few seconds, and then exhaled.

“Ahh, yeah, baby . . . I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Same here,” she said. “You can’t blame me for wanting to spend more time with you.” She flicked my ear with her tongue.

“I would love to take you out places. I would love to be able to wake up beside you in the mornings and do all those things that lovers do, but you know the position I’m in.”

“You mean do all the things that you and your wife do?”

“Ray!” She knew that Teri was definitely not a subject to be discussed. She backed off when she felt my body stiffen.

“Oh, baby, I need you.” She resumed kissing my neck. “Come on. I can’t wait to get to the room.”

After placing the blunt in the ashtray on her ivory, glass, and marble table, I began to loosen my belt as she pushed the table away with her foot. She helped unbutton my shirt.

“Hurry,” she whispered in my ear as she guided me to her fluffy beige area rug. “I’ve missed you so much.” She began to place hot kisses on my chest. Her soft lips worked their way downward, and I almost lost it when she stuck her hot tongue in and out of my navel.

“Oh, my goodness,” I tried to say.

“Shhh.” She put her index finger over my lips, her French-tipped nail lightly rubbing across my upper lip, sending shivers through me at full speed. She understood that I was almost at my peak when she sat up and gazed into my eyes while removing her nightgown. Never taking her eyes away from mine, she slowly glided her body on top of mine. I closed my eyes as her sensual body welcomed mine.

“Don’t say a word,” she whispered as she began to move slowly to the music that was playing on her stereo. The music began to speed up, and so did she. As she worked her body into a frenzy, I could no longer hold back. We were both soon entangled in a sweat-soaked mess in the middle of her living room floor.

“Oh, my goodness,” I said, out of breath. I struggled to push myself up so that I could sit and lean against her couch. “Do you have anything to drink? I’m a little dehydrated or something. I swear, girl, you wear me out every time.”

“I’d like to wear you out more often,” she commented as she rose and walked into the kitchen.

I chuckled and gathered my clothes, which I’d discarded all over her floor.

“Would you like to take a shower or a bath tonight?” she asked as she handed me a cold glass of water.

After taking the glass in my hand and quickly gulping down its contents, I finally answered, “A quick shower please.” Handing the glass back, I said, “Ray, I just really needed to see you tonight.”

“So would you like for me to take a shower with you?” she asked.

“Come over here,” I said. Rubbing my thumb across her lips, I told her, “Now, you know that I would never get out of here if you did that.” Looking into her eyes, I could see her motive. “Are you trying to get me to stay on purpose?”

“Forget it,” she snapped, hurt in her eyes now, as she walked toward the bathroom. “I’ll run you a stupid shower.”

“Ray, baby,” I said, but she was no longer listening.

When I had finished my shower, put my clothes on, and returned to the dining room, she was sitting at the table, pretending to study.

“I’ll see you later this week, okay?” I said.

She ignored me.

“Ray, did you hear what I said?”

“Sure,” she answered, never looking up from her books.

“Look, baby—”

“No, you don’t have to explain anything to me,” she said, cutting me off. “I knew exactly what I was getting myself into when I started this with you. I’m fine,” she said. “You just go on home to your wife.”

Irritated, I turned to leave. I was walking toward the door when she said, “Oh, by the way, this week won’t work for me. I’m going to be pretty busy myself.” She never looked up from her books.

I walked out the door and slammed it behind me without saying another word.

On the ride home I was happy to see that the traffic was light. The air was clean and refreshing to my lungs. The stars in the sky were beautiful. As crazy as it sounded, it reminded me of Teri’s eyes. But what was I going to say to my wife if she was still awake? She hardly questioned me about what I did. But every now and then she would surprise me. As I drove into the garage, I was glad to see that most of the lights in the house were out. I walked into the kitchen, threw my keys on the island, and then tiptoed into the bedroom.

Good. Teri was sound asleep. I didn’t feel much like trying to explain to her where I had been.

“Honey, is that you?” she asked, half asleep.

“Go on back to sleep, my dear. I didn’t mean to wake you,” I said, slipping under the covers.

“Did you take care of your business, sweetheart?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I did,” I mumbled.

Before I could utter another sentence, she was softly snoring again. This was a great relief. I didn’t feel like coming up with a lie tonight. I was exhausted. And I hated lying to her, but what was a man to do?

“Thank you, Reverend Cole, and thank you, Reverend Leonard,” I said, “for meeting me for lunch today.”

Both men really seemed to be enjoying the day’s special of fried chicken, turnip greens, black-eyed peas, corn on the cob, and hot buttered corn bread. We were washing it down with some of Sister Annie Mae’s honey-sweetened iced tea.

Reverend Cole was the pastor of Revelation Missionary Baptist Church and was somewhat new to our community. He was short and very plump, with a bald head. When he walked, he made me think of a duck waddling. Reverend Leonard was the pastor of Bethel A.M.E. He was the opposite of Reverend C. . .