The First Lady Read Online Free PDF

tonight. What man could resist a body like mine?
    No sooner had I reached the kitchen and laid the pork chops on the cooling rack than the doorbell rang. “It’s him,” I said to myself in a singsong tone, my heart racing like a young girl on her first date. I quickly removed the oven mitts from my hands, placed them on the counter, and headed straight for the door. “Coming!” I yelled as the doorbell rang again. “Coming!”
    When I opened the door, there he stood, Bishop T.K. Wilson, six feet tall with deep chocolate-colored skin and a perfectly groomed salt-and-pepper beard all wrapped up in a London Fog overcoat. He was quite possibly the most handsome man I’d ever seen, and the sudden heat between my legs emphasized the point. As much as I wanted to be a good Christian, the woman inside me felt like taking his hand and leading him straight to my bedroom to show him what he’d been missing all these years.
    “Bishop,” I said, pulling the door open wide and stepping aside so that he could come in. His cologne made my knees weak.
    “Sister Johnson,” he replied in his soothing baritone voice, checking his watch. “Am I early? I thought we were going to have dinner with your entire committee.”
    “Bishop, would you believe they both canceled on me at the last minute? I think their kids have the flu. You know how bad that’s running around these days.”
    The bishop nodded, but I’m not sure if he believed me. I was thankful that he’d come alone but was a little worried when he peered suspiciously into the candlelit dining room. I knew I should have waited to light the candles until dinner was served.
    “Well, let me know when they reschedule.” He turned to the door.
    “Don’t be silly, Bishop. We don’t need them to have a bookstore meeting. Besides, I’ve already made dinner. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
    “No, I haven’t, but I don’t want to impose.”
    “Nonsense. You’re not imposing. Both my boys live with their father now. It’ll be nice to have a dinner companion for once. Here, let me take your coat,” I insisted as I slowly slid his coat down his back and hung it on the coatrack next to the door. “Please, have a seat on the couch. I just took the pork chops out of the oven, so they need to cool a little bit.”
    “Pork chops? I love pork chops.” As he moved to place his keys in his pocket, they dropped, and when he bent over to pick them up, I had to catch my breath, because the tingle between my legs was intensifying. Mmm, mmm, mmm, the man had a butt like two halves of a honeydew melon, and all I wanted to do was take a bite.
    “So, Sister Johnson,” Bishop said, sitting on the couch and getting right to business. “I think your idea of opening up a Christian bookstore is awesome.”
    “Bishop,” I said, sitting next to him, “it just came to me one day while I was out looking for an NIV Bible. There just aren’t any places to find good Christian books in this borough.”
    We talked about the bookstore for ten minutes, but the bishop wasn’t looking at me—at least not in the way I felt he should’ve been. I sighed, repositioned myself, and did whatever else I could do so that he would notice my cleavage, but the man would not take his eyes off my face. I know my brown, saucer-shaped eyes were mesmerizing, but with a zip-down sweater on, I thought the bishop’s eyes would wander south at least once. I’m not about to lie; it was frustrating. How could he not want to look at them? They were beautiful.
    The thought crossed my mind that he could possibly be gay. I mean, there were plenty of gay men in the church. Heck, some might even call our church Down Low City. But I knew he wasn’t gay. He had two children and was married for at least twenty years. Besides, before his wife died, I’d caught him sneaking a peek more than once. No, he wasn’t gay. He was careful, and I couldn’t blame him. After all, he was the pastor of the biggest church in