Church Folk - Michele Andrea Bowen [99]
Marcel decided to lower his lashes down over his eyes—a signal that Precious was getting next to him. Then, coming up behind her, he rubbed her neck with expert hands.
"Precious, I believe you have been working too hard. Your neck is so tense until I don't think this little massage will do the trick." He slid his hand inside her shirt, and rubbed her back. "Ummm, sweet thing, your back is tight, too. I think I should order you to take the rest of the evening off and give this sweet brown body the kind of attention it needs."
Precious couldn't believe this fool could be so bold and cocky! Here he was, rubbing all on her like he hadn't just gotten what had sounded to her like a very, very good piece of tail. She was so mad at Marcel she could have spit tacks right out of her mouth if it wasn't so important to keep up this little game and see how far he would go. She kept her cool, moving her head around like she was enjoying his massage, and leaning her head back so that he could see how much she was enjoying it on her face.
She smiled at him. "Honey-baby, I've got so much to do tonight until I couldn't possibly stop to be with you. I have to balance these books and as much as I hate to say this, you gonna have to take care of me at another time. Okay, honey-baby?"
Marcel smiled, hoping that he looked disappointed enough to hide the relief he felt over this announcement. He was exhausted. Jackie Giles had been all over him, over and over and over again. After that marathon session with her, he didn't even want to think about being all wrapped up with some woman. He gave a low laugh, stroked his chin, and said, "Well, baby, as much as I hate to admit this, you're right. It's going to be hard doing without your loving tonight, but we do need for you to get those books together. I guess I'll just have to go and take a cold shower or two to cool down. Hope I can last through the night. Would hate to have to tip out on you to keep it together until I can get some of your good stuff, baby."
Precious wanted to smack Marcel down on the floor and then kick him in his tail for handing her that mess. She thought to herself, "Humph, that heifer must have wore out his sorry behind. And just look at him standing there, lying and grinning like he is feeling so bad that I got to work tonight. I wonder just who he think he talking to—that tight-lipped woman he engaged to?"
As soon as she thought about Marcel's fiancée, she had to stop herself from grinning at the idea forming in her head.
Marcel kissed Precious on the cheek and walked over to the door. She watched him go with love all over her face, but as soon as she heard his footsteps retreat, she went and got her purse off the bed, digging around in it until her fingers touched a tiny piece of paper. She pulled it out of the bag and immediately went over to the phone, dropped her purse on the floor, and dialed the number of a certain guest suite over at Virginia Union University. When Marcel had the nerve to get all up in her face, playing her for a fool, she realized that the best way to get back at him—to hurt him where it would hurt the most—was to call up his fiancée and tell her everything.
Precious laughed softly and thought, "Now if I was one of them trifling women, I would have been all over him. But this, this will teach his no-good, low-down, dirty, lying self not to ever up and try and mess with me again."
She removed a big gold hoop earring and put the receiver back up to her ear just in time to hear his fiancée's voice on the line.
"Hello."
The cultured, crisp, and cold sound of Saphronia's voice made her lose her nerve. Precious looked at the telephone, not knowing what to say to her.
"Hello."
Precious hung up the telephone and rubbed her forehead. She had not counted on Marcel's fiancée sounding so intimidating—that woman's voice could have put a freeze on some ice. She sat next to the phone for almost five minutes, trying to work