Church Stories II: Part 5, Felicia
Written by Myron J. Clifton
“Blow on my garden…and let my lover come into his garden and taste its choice fruits”
Song of Solomon 4:16
“Jamaal! Jamaal! Hey you, come here!” Felicia happily yelled at Jamaal from across the street. They were both on their way to choir rehearsal ahead of their visit to the next and final church for church anniversary month – the Regional Bishop’s church: Hope Cathedral – and their choir was scheduled to sing two songs. They had been visiting so many churches that choir practice had been canceled all month.
The Cathedral, as everyone called it, was a huge twenty-two million dollar building that was the center of church life for his grandfather’s church organization. It was the West Coast Headquarters and a certain stop for national church figures, politicians during Black History month and Dr. King’s birthday remembrances, and often the starting point for marches and protests of injustice.
There would be three services on Sunday and Jamaal’s choir was required to sing at all three services and they were expected to change-up their songs for each service. In the Black church, choirs were highly competitive, petty, and needed. If a church had a terrible choir the membership, or lack thereof, would reflect that. Conversely, when the church had a dynamic choir, the church’s reputation and often membership, would reflect their popularity.
There was stiff competition for choir directors, lead singers, organists, drummers, guitar plays, and overall singing talent. The Black church understood the esteemed place choirs held and thus their high maintenance members, many of whom were loosely saved, sanctified, and only occasionally filled with the holy ghost – usually when they were singing – were tolerated.
Most pop, blues, country, and modern singers can trace their music to the Black church. And almost all Black singers and entertainers can do the same.
Jamaal sang in the choir only because the choir director and his grandparents made him. He couldn’t carry a tune, but his deep voice helped provide base, even if he was off-key, as he almost always was.
Felicia was also in the choir and Jamaal loved standing right behind her, one row up, so they could talk to one another. He also liked looking at her hair and smelling her perfume.
“Why are you rushing to go inside. We’re early. Let’s hang out.” Felicia said, taking Jamaal’s arm as she often did and squeezing it and her body to his.
As always, Jamaal felt something when Felicia held him like she was doing now.
The couple sat on the stairs of the church talking about a lot and a lot of nothing and Jamaal felt good listening to Felicia talk. Her singing voice was pretty because her speaking voice was pretty, Jamaal thought to himself as Felicia talked about her grades, her divorced parents, and how she planned to attend a historically Black college in the South.
“That’s a long way away.” Jamaal responded when Felicia paused.
“And that’s why I’m going. I know this city and this city knows me. I want to get to know another city, State, place, and people. I want to explore.” Felicia looked distant like she was imagining herself traveling the world.
“That would be really, cool, Felicia. You should get out of here. I will one day, too. It won’t be college though, that’s not my thing.”
“College is everybody’s thing if they want it to be.”
“Not really but, I do agree that college can be good. You will be good at college that’s for sure. I’ll be at your graduation, that is also for sure.” Jamaal was looking right in Felicia’s brown eyes and she looked back.
“Come on.” Felicia stood up, pulling Jamaal with her.
The couple crossed the street and stopped at Felicia’s mother’s car. Felicia pulled keys out of her pants pocket and opened the front door, then she reached in and unlocked all the doors.
“Come on.” Felicia said and they both got in the backseat.
“You’ve never done it, have you, Jamaal?” Felicia asked as she and Jamaal sat close enough that he could smell her minty breath, vanilla in her hair, and maybe lavender lotion.
“No. Just kissing. I got felt up once but didn’t like it.”
“Oh.” Jamaal felt mad.
“You want to kiss?”
“Well, kiss me then”
“Oka- “Felicia began kissing him before he could finish the word.
Jamaal felt euphoric and colorful. His mind turned to mush as Felicia pressed herself against him and her hands were first on his shoulder and then started moving slower. Jamaal followed Felicia’s lead and moved his hands from her shoulder to her waist, then her thigh before stopping.
Felicia took Jamaal’s hand and placed it on her breast. Jamaal’s knew his life changed in that moment.
They were still kissing and suddenly Jamaal remembered he had been eating Doritos before Felicia got his attention.
“Here.” Felicia said as she pulled away from Jamaal’s face, handing him a mint.
“Sorry.” Was all Jamaal could think to say.
“Don’t be, silly. Your breath is fine. The mint is so you like the taste.” Felicia said as unbuttoned her jeans and after lifting her hips up a bit, pulled her jeans down exposing her panties.
Felicia then shifted her body so that she her head was against the window and her body across the back seat with her legs across Jamaal’s legs so that they were making a “T” with their legs.
“I’m not having sex for the first time in the backseat of my mother’s car, so forget that.”
“Okay. Me neither.” Jamaal replied trying his best to follow Felicia’s lead.
“But I also don’t want to be a virgin anymore and end up going away to college not knowing anything. I trust you, Jamaal.”
“I trust you, too. I like you, too. I really like you.” Jamaal tried to be more certain of himself even though his heart was racing, and his mind was mush.
“Good. You want to try oral sex with me?” Felicia pointed to her panties as she asked.
“Yeah. I’ve never done it. Have you?”
“Not really. That time that jerk tried to feel me up doesn’t count. Felicia pulled her panties down.
Jamaal had never seen what he was now looking at which was just a few inches from his hands.
“Touch is softly and then kiss it just like you were kissing me.” Felicia instructed him.
Jamaal tended to be a good listener because he was always listening to adult conversations, preacher conversations, and even in school he listened to teachers intensely even though he often ignored their instructions.
But right now, Jamaal celebrated internally that he heard every word and every instruction Felicia gave him over the next fifteen minutes. He did exactly what she told him and when she finally gently put her hands on either side of his head and gently pulled him up, he didn’t resist.
Felicia kissed him on his cheeks as she held his head.
“That was good, Jamaal. You’re going to be a good lover one day.”
“Thank you.” Jamaal said goofily.
“Boy you silly. Thank YOU. I’ll return the favor soon. Let’s go to church. Go wash your face though. You don’t want to be inside singing praises to the Lord and your face smells like my garden, even though my garden smells like flowers. The women will know. So, clean it up.
Felicia buttoned her pants, kissed Jamaal one more time on the lips, grabbed his crotch and said: “You were excited I see. One day, perhaps.”
Jamaal sat a few more minutes while his body temperature and other things went down before he drifted to the church ready for choir practice and fully having forgotten to wash his face as Felicia instructed him, proving that maybe he wasn’t a good a listener as he thought.
Jamaal also didn’t notice the other women giving him the “look” throughout choir practice.
© 2019 by Myron J. Clifton, Dear Dean Publishing. All Rights Reserved.