We stood in my bedroom and I watched as she put on the black suit that I’d picked out for her, almost feeling guilty that I was covering up her perfect body. Iesha completed her ensemble by brushing her shoulder-length hair into a bun and downplaying her makeup, smoothing on clear lip gloss and ditching the spicy red, her usual color.
“But, sis,” she pleaded, “don’t you want a man to at least think about what it would be like to spread you open and—”
“Stop! Don’t say it.” I shuddered in disgust. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you. I can’t believe I even agreed to this silly bet!”
“As I was saying,” Iesha continued, practically ignoring me, “a man wants to at least imagine what it would be like to get the punany. He wants to smell its sweetness, love it . . .” She inhaled sharply and smiled. “Taste it.”
“I’ll pass,” I said, folding my arms. “Better yet, I’ll wait.”
“Look, I’m not saying that being all sanctified is bad, but damn, sis—you gotta eat.”
“What on earth does sex have to do with eating?”
“Picture this, Yana. You come home from a long, stressful day at work and yo’ man had the same kind of tiring day. He sees you and he fucks your brains out!” She sighed. “Steak and potatoes all night!”
“Whatever!” I chuckled at her ridiculous analogy.
“Okay, Miss High and Mighty. How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid? Better yet, when was the last time you let a man just touch the kitty?”
“Well . . .” I thought back. “That was Solomon.”
“So that was like what? Five, six years ago?”
“Seven,” I blurted out. Damn, seven years already? “But I have a man. Someone who will never forsake me, cheat on me, or make me feel unworthy.”
“Oh, hell naw, you’ve been holding out on me? You’ve been fucking somebody and you haven’t told me?”
“Honey, I’m talking ’bout God. He will never cheat on me and it’s all good!”
Iesha was sarcastic with her loud sigh. “I can’t believe I fell for that lame shit. After that outburst, I’m even happier we made this bet because if we didn’t, I’d have you committed. You’re thirty-nine, not seventy-nine.”
“I’m not crazy, Iesha. The only reason I considered this bet is because I think once you discover who God is, you’ll be able to find some purpose. Maybe even close your legs and wait for a husband.”
“Okay, Mother Teresa, don’t push it.” She puckered her lips. “That reminds me, the location changed for your date with James. He’s cooking you dinner at his house on General Drive. Remember, you agreed to one night with him in exchange for my month in sex rehab—I mean, the church house—so no funny business. God help yo’ ass if you don’t show up.”
“I don’t know about all that, now. We didn’t agree to something that personal.”
“You’re right, we didn’t, but he’s working on a special project at home and figured that it would be easier. Just try not to be you for one night, please!” She eyeballed my boot-cut blue jeans and red sweater. “Uh, you might want to get dressed because you need to be there in an hour. Your outfit is on the bed.”
“Uh, no, those aren’t clothes. That’s hooker attire.”
“Look, if I’m dressing like a damn missionary, you’re dressing in what I would wear on a date. So the red bustier, black skirt, and three-inch platforms are it for you, tonight.”
I stared at the bed in disgust. “I don’t know. This is too much.”
“Look, Iyana, I love you. You’re my sister, best friend, and confidante, but you need to know that all of your little friends at church ain’t who they pretend to be. Hell, half of those little choir members and ushers are in the club on Saturday night grinding to Jamie Foxx’s ‘15 Minutes,’ and deciding whose ass they gone ride home with.”
She picked up my bible off the table and did a quick look through in the mirror. “Look at me,” she stated. “I’m off to bible study, at a church, and I’m do
ing this all for you, Yana. So enjoy yourself and relax. I promise it won’t be near as bad as you make it out to be. Take my car. There’s a small duffel bag in the passenger seat for tonight. Take it to James, but don’t open it. Text me and let me know when you get there.”
I swallowed hard, unprepared for what my sister had planned for me. “Okay, I will.”
“Oh, one final thing. I met James once about a month ago, but we’ve chatted a few times on the phone. He’s really a great guy, so have fun!” With that, she headed out the door.
“Hey, wait a minute!” She was gone.
It took me twenty minutes to get dressed in the outfit she’d set out. The skirt was too short and I almost fainted fastening the bustier. I looked at myself in the mirror one last time, pulling my shoulder-length hair back into a banana clip.