Sex In The Sanctuary. Lutishia Lovely

on>

      

Sex in the Sanctuary

      Sex in the Sanctuary

      Lutishia Lovely

       KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      This book is dedicated to the angelic sisterhood

       who I know watches over me:

       My grandmother Amanda,

       My great-grandmothers Alma and Lutishia,

       And my great-great-grandmother Fredonia Yates.

       Good lookin’ out ladies…I appreciate you.

      With Gratitude

      When I think of gratitude, acknowledgements, thank-yous, and of all the people and experiences that ultimately helped me co-create this moment, I am reminded of just how blessed I am, of how amazing this journey called “life” is, and of how everything and everyone is connected. All of those thank-yous would equal the size of this novel!

      But there are those whose thoughts, words and deeds are intricately woven into the fabric of this particular work. Your talent, energy, positive attitudes, senses of humor and love helped it happen. And it is you I thank now.

      To Spirit, the I Am, for allowing and enabling me to reflect Your light in the earth. In the beginning was the Word…and we’re still writing. I am so grateful…

      To my earliest mentors and, in addition to being my parents, two of my best friends: Willie and Flora Hinton. I love you! To my nieces, nephews, brothers and especially my sisters, Dee and Marcella, for our crazy conversations, laughter and tears, down through the years. Y’all know. To Aunt Ernie (Jackson), for believing in my writing and for living in New York, one of my favorite cities.

      To my special family of friends: Sherri Roulette-Mosley, Kai Aiyetoro and Fadzo Chanakira (Wu-Wu!) for your invaluable input, feedback, suggestions and critiques through the rewrites, and through life. To my twin, Storm, for being a much needed sounding board and breath of fresh air. To Micki Guzmán and Tino Struckmann for the unexpected yet treasured friendships during our literary journeys. You’re next! To mi amigo Hugo Perez. Gracias para todo. And to my heart, Cuezalin; my world shines brighter with you in it…tlazohcamati.

      To the Kensington crew: My fearless and flawless editor Stacey Barney (there I go with the adjectives!), Karen Thomas, the pivotal Hilary Sares, Are you sure you don’t want me to read this? Also Lydia Stein, Karina Mikhli, Barbara Bennett and Brendan Finnel.

      To Kristine Mills-Noble, Jo Tronc and Tracy Marx for the reason this book is flying off the shelves…the cover! Speaking of shelves, to bookstores and booksellers everywhere.

      To my legal counsel and the Author’s Guild, Robin Davis Miller and the amazing Anita Fore. Your commitment to writers is first class! To agents Sha Shana Crichton and Natasha Kern. What you women do is no joke!

      And to you, yes you, the one who’s so graciously picked up this novel and turned the page. What would a writer be without a reader? Exactly. I pray God’s blessings on your life and your dreams.

      If you didn’t see your name, and you believe yours is a name that should be seen? The sequel’s coming, darlin’s. Keep reading…

      Contents

      Mr. Snakeskin Boots

      I think you got something that belongs to me

      Hearing from God

      His “spiritual thing”

      Blessed

      Mama can usually smell that coming

      Good, good

      Ladies first

      Girls and boys didn’t look alike “down there”

      Waiting on Jesus—Your Mr. Right

      Sistah Almighty and Sistah Alrighty

      Was she being paranoid?

      I love you, baby…tore-up feet and all

      Lonely—and alone—again

      Hello, husband

      Trying to separate the “two becoming one” into two again.

      …Getting ready to preach a revival when I need reviving the most

      Lord, have mercy

      God was with her and she was going to be okay

      Thou shall not kill

      Right on time

      If this isn’t God…I don’t know what is

      Some good news

      Everything is not all right

      A church girl

      Are you sure she’s not bucking for First Lady?

      Put feet to your faith

      When the last time you had some, baby?

      A cool glass of water in the Holy Land

      The marriage bed is undefiled

      The spirit of seduction

      She felt like Cinderella

      God, my Jehovah, Awesome Wonder

      With or without you, I’m moving on

      Girl, you know you need to quit

      I am the resurrection and the life

      Mum’s the word

      S.O.S.—The Sanctity of Sisterhood

      Her divine mate

      It is our time

      Seventy times seven

      Everybody plays the fool

      Sacred love

      Love was a beautiful thing

      Mr. Snakeskin Boots

      It squeezed her booty without apology. But that was only part of the beauty of a St. John suit. The other was its flawless design—its intricate stitching—its wrinkle-free fabric. The way it hugged every inch of her curved, firm body. She was a perfect St. John size six. Thirty-eight years and two children later, a perfect St. John size six and she was proud of it.

      Vivian Elise Stanford Montgomery stepped back and briefly inspected her image in the mirror. She moved to the dresser and, pushing aside the two-carat diamond studs, decided on the round ruby dangles with matching choker. The black onyx jewel setting provided a fitting backdrop to the precious stones and complemented the black piping around the jacket as if they had been designed specifically for the occasion.

      The ruby and the black and the herringbone all worked to complement Vivian’s unblemished, coffee-colored complexion. Well, coffee with a wee bit of cream. She’d been pretty her whole life, although she didn’t always think so. It took Sistah Lillie and Brotha Benson’s son Titus to convince her she was really pretty, worth a Snickers candy bar and the faux-pearl ring he got out of his Cracker Jack box, but that’s another story. To this day she still wasn’t sure whether Titus really thought she was pretty or if he just wanted her to play hide-and-go-get-it behind Brother Armstrong’s toolshed, but again, that’s another story. She could remember being in the Sunbeams and having the mothers of the church comment, “Ooh, ain’t she a pretty little black thang?”

      Her shoulder-length black hair framed her face softly in a trendy flip style, a style that accented the Asian slant of her wide, brown eyes. Sitting at the vanity, she finished her make-up, adding just a hint of blush and a subtle layer of ruby red lipstick to her full, well-defined lips.

      Vivian opened the