Live and Learn by Niobia Bryant

tightly grasping my book bag.
    “Come in,” he demanded, beckoning me with a bend of his fingers.
    Still clutching my book bag, I closed the door, my black pumps clicking against the ceramic tile as I walked over and stood before his desk.
    “Are you a good Christian, Latoya?”
    I nodded, my eyes locked with his, and said, “Yes, sir.”
    “Pure?”
    Flushing with embarrassment, I answered quickly. “Yes, Reverend DeMark.”
    He turned in his maroon leather swivel chair and stood suddenly, coming around his desk to stand beside me. He was so close that I could see the tiny flat mole near his mouth and feel his cool breath against my forehead.
    Anxious, I took an automatic step back and looked up at him.
    “Are you afraid of me, Latoya?”
    “No, sir,” I stammered, hypnotized by his eyes.
    Slowly he raised his hands and grasped my face. “You’ve grown to be a very beautiful young lady. Very innocent and…tempting.”
    I was a virgin, only pretending to be as cool and hip as my friends so that I would fit in. I didn’t know much about men, or even boys for that matter. Yet, I knew at that moment, as the Reverend continued to stroke me with his eyes, that he wanted to kiss me.
    I gasped slightly as my nipples hardened at the very thought of his lips on mine. Remorse and shame quickly filled me.
    “Do you believe that He is a forgiving God?” he asked, his voice strained as one hand moved down to my buttocks to press the lower half of my body close to his.
    I nodded, completely under his spell.
    As his head lowered and his warm lips met mine, he guided my shaking hand to his erection; I could only pray that He was indeed forgiving.
    The sound of the doorknob rattling brought me from the past with a jolt. I knew Reverend DeMark had a key, so either it wasn’t him or he wasn’t alone. With a quick look over my shoulder, I dashed into an oversized armoire.
    “Reverend DeMark, your words were truly inspirational.”
    My eyes widened into mini saucers at the breathy sound of Sister Rebbie Labelle’s voice. Curious, I eased open the door of the armoire just a crack and watched as the voluptuous woman, clad in a lilac suit with matching fur stole, sashayed past the Rev into the office.
    “I’m glad that you enjoyed the sermon,” he said, still standing with the door ajar.
    Her wide-brimmed hat was tilted to the side and covering part of her face, but nothing could hide the slick smile that spread across her face like butter. “This sure is a nice conversion of the basement into an apartment, but it needs…a woman’s touch.”
    I saw his eyes darting around the office, probably wondering where I hid. “I’m quite comfortable the way that it is actually. Uhm, I want to look over my notes before the next sermon, Sister Labelle. Is there anything else?” he asked politely, while pulling the door open wider.
    Sister Labelle pouted as she pranced back over to him, lightly swinging the gloves she carried. “If there’s anything I can help you with—and I do mean anything —just call on me, Luke.”
    I tensed at her use of his first name.
    With one last stroke of her hand against his cheek and a long, meaningful stare into his eyes, Sister Labelle finally took her leave.
    I waited until he closed the door and locked it before I left my hiding place. “It’s good to see you have so many willing servants.”
    He turned. Slowly he nodded as he removed his elaborate gold-trimmed robe.
    “Sister Labelle seemed quite eager to please,” I pressed, unsuccessfully hiding my jealousy.
    Preacher or not, Reverend DeMark put it down so good that I just didn’t want to share, okay?
    He took the seat behind his desk, steepling his fingers and then resting his chin on the tips. “Don’t make assumptions, Latoya,” he ordered in a steely tone. “Jealousy doesn’t become you. The Song of Solomon states: ‘For love is as strong as death, jealousy as cruel as the grave; its flames are flames of fire. A most vehement