The First Lady Read Online Free PDF Page B

Queens. It had to be my approach. There was something I wasn’t doing right. But what? My momma always told me the key to any man’s heart lies between your thighs. And up until now, she ain’t never lied.
    “Do you have any idea where you’d like to have the store?” he asked.
    “Yep, I sure do.” Now was my opportunity to show off my hips and firm, round ass. Maybe he wasn’t a breast man. Maybe he was an ass man. “There’s a vacant store right across the street from the church. I took a picture of it this morning with my camera phone.” I got up and walked across the room, taking my time as I bent over to retrieve my phone from my bag. When I stood up and turned to him, he had to sit back and look up in the air for a second ‘cause he was busted!
    Gotcha, I told myself as I smiled. So, you’re an ass man, huh? Well, I can do tricks like those video dancers.
    “What do you think of this?” I sat down next to him, showing him the pictures on my phone.
    “Perfect,” he said with a smile. “Absolutely perfect. I’ve looked at that vacant store a thousand times over the past year and never even thought about its potential. And you would be the perfect woman to spearhead the church’s Christian bookstore if it were to come to fruition.”
    “I don’t know about the perfect woman …” I blushed, playfully putting my hand on the bishop’s hand, which was resting on his knee. “After all, I think Ms. Charlene was the perfect woman.”
    “Oh, thank you,” he said genuinely, sliding his hand from underneath mine, patting it gently before folding his on his lap. “What a great compliment for the first la—”
    The bishop caught himself. I guess he realized, just like I did, that she was the late first lady, and never being one to bite my tongue, I decided to speak on that.
    “You miss her, don’t you?”
    “Yes.” He nodded. “More than anyone can ever imagine.”
    “Look, I didn’t mean to sour the mood. Dinner should be cooled off by now. What do you say we eat?” I said, changing the subject … for now.
    Over dinner, the bishop listened attentively while I discussed some of my ideas about the bookstore. After dinner, over two cups of coffee, I listened attentively while he discussed some of his ideas about the bookstore. After the second cup, unfortunately, he was ready to call it a night.
    “Well, Sister Johnson,” he said as he rose from the dinner table.
    “Oh, please, Bishop,” I said, cutting him off as I stood up and placed my hand on his shoulder. “We just spent the evening together. Call me Monique.”
    “Well, Sister Monique,” the Bishop continued, “I must say that this idea of a Christian bookstore is definitely an ordained vision that I’m certain God will manifest if He’s in agreement. It will be hard work at first, I’m sure. But the fruits of your labor will be so rewarding.”
    “Oh, Bishop,” I said, slowly sliding my hand down his shoulder and to his slightly crooked tie. Being the perfectionist that I am, the slant of his tie was driving me crazy, so I had to take the initiative to straighten it out. “I love hard work. And like the Bible says, “To whom much is given, much is required.” Well, I’m willing to give it my all.” At that point, I felt a little piece of hair sticking to my cotton-candy lipstick, which matched my polish, so I licked my lips, then slowly ran my index finger across my bottom lip until I removed the piece of hair.
    How embarrassing, I thought. No telling how long that stupid piece of hair has been on my lip.
    “Oh, I don’t doubt at all, Sister Monique, that you’ll put your everything into the bookstore,” he said, finally taking his eyes away from my luscious mouth. “But as you know, I have to take it to the trustee board first.” He turned and headed for the door.
    “Oh, of course, Bishop,” I said, close on his heels.
    “But I think they will see the benefits of having the bookstore.”
    “Bishop, you have no