Annie & Smoke Fanpage🤎

Her new nigga wasn’t someone she was serious about. Yes—he was sexy as hell, and yes—and he did whatever she told him to, but he wasn’t Smoke.

Annie had promised herself after that first time that she wouldn’t become addicted to the man. It was easy enough to say but too hard to make reality, and whenever she found her mind drifting to Smoke, all she could think about was the sight, smell, and taste of him. All she could feel was his hands roaming her body, throwing her around—handling her. It had been a long time since she was this engrossed in another person, so when he texted, she responded. When he begged to come over, she let him.

Her new nigga was an attempt to stop this obsession from spreading. He was something to offset her need for Smoke. It worked—at first—but every time she got a taste of Smoke again, she was ready to throw in the towel and run to her friend in confession.

She knew why the woman had put an end to the threesome shit just as soon as it had started. Annie and the man had went wild, and when you get completely lost the way they did, you have to nip that shit in the bud expeditiously. Her friend could see where it was heading, could tell that if they continued she would end up with no man at all—but she didn’t move quick enough.

Annie had snatched her nigga up, and if Smoke was intrigued by her before, he was damn near obsessed now.

When he yelled at her about her new man, the audacity made her laugh and boil with anger. You would think he'd focus on the more pressing matter first: they had a double date to be worried about, and there he was focused about some stupid shit. But Annie couldn’t deny that Smoke’s possessive side made her tingle. There was something about the raising of his voice, the crazy look in his eye, the way he gritted his teeth at her.

She wanted to tell him that she was all his and that she wasn’t serious about dude, but then she’d have no cards to play and nobody to fall back on.

She wasn’t that stupid.

~~~~~

Annie stared down at her phone. Smoke was blowing her up like he had been all week, but she had nothing to say to him; Nothing worthwhile, and nothing that would soothe the insane way he was behaving. She rolled her eyes as a litany of messages came through.

So you ain't gon answer my fuckin messages?

You got me textin and callin yo ass and I know you see it

I told yo ass I was serious, Annie

Im serious bout you

Bout us

Answer yo damn phone, woman

Aight

Keep playin

Just wait til I see yo lil boyfriend at this dinner then

“You ready for our double date on friday,” her friend asked, bumping her shoulder as she passed her to look at the wall of shoes in front of them. Startled, Annie immediately stuffed her phone in her purse, swiveling around with a flushed look as her surroundings came back into the forefront.

The mall was loud even though it was a week day, but her mind was still oscillating between Smoke's messages and maintaining this lie.

“Sure,” she hummed, picking up a pair of heels. “I been wantin’ to try that restaurant for a while, too.”

“Mhm,” her friend responded distractedly. Annie had stooped to try on the shoe, giving her the chance to watch her without being interrupted. Her eyes drifted over her—hot and greedy—but when Annie stood up straight, she diverted her gaze. “I’m ready to meet yo’ new man,” she lied, huffing softly. “Tryna see who takin’ all your time away like this.” And with that, the friend laughed—boastful and haughty—but Annie could tell what was underneath it.

She had suspected for a while now that her friend still felt a way about their little rendezvous. Since then, she looked at Annie with the memory of her naked body still roaming around her mind, and when Annie began to spend less time with her and more time with her new man (and Smoke), she continuously demanded to know who was taking her away from her. She played it off as a joke, but Annie could sense her true feelings.

This stupid double date was set up for her friend to finally meet her "competition", as she had put it. And while Annie hated the whole idea of it, she couldn’t fight the irony of Smoke being the real reason for her lack of free time.

She was split between three people who couldn’t get enough Annie, and she didn’t know what to do. She had a friend who was obsessed with her and secretly pining for something she had put an end to herself. She had a new man who was supposed to be a fun distraction from the bullshit, but the more things progressed with him, the more enraptured he became, too. And she had Smoke—a man as addicted to her as she was him.

It was a hot ass mess of her own making, but there seemed to be no turning back now.

"What you wearin' to dinner," her friend questioned, biting her bottom lip. She was back to looking her up and down and clearly envisioning Annie being put through the mattress.

"Girl," Annie cackled, rolling her eyes as they walked into another store. "Stop lookin' at me like that before I tell yo' man on you."

"Oh, please," she grumbled, moving to a rack of dresses. Rolling her shoulders back, her voice leveled to a tone Annie couldn't fully decipher. "Smoke be lookin' at you, too."

~~~~~

When she made it to the restaurant, Annie felt like she was walking into the lion's den. With her new nigga at her side, she only felt worse, like she was subjecting him to a violence he had no possible understanding of.

Before now, she'd felt no reason to explain the intricacies of her relationship with Smoke and her friend to him. He didn’t know about the threesome or her and Smoke’s relationship or how her friend still wanted her. It was none of his business, and they weren't serious enough for her to start divulging secrets with the man.

But it didn't make her feel any better about bringing him into the environment because she knew her guilt would only grow with time.

“Hey, sexy,” Annie’s friend shouted in greeting, standing from her seat to welcome the woman and her guest. Her arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight as the two men beside them sized each other up. Smoke rose from his chair slowly, eyes remaining in the unfamiliar face. He disregarded the nickname, disregarded Annie’s attire. There was nothing more important than figuring out what made this nigga good enough for his Annie.

Greeting her friend back with a firm hug, the woman introduced her guest—and immediately the air turned cold.

Smoke, his girlfriend, and Annie’s man all traded looks between each other, each of them full of competition and jealousy.

“Have you all ordered anything,” Annie laughed off nervously, trepidation blanketing her emotions. She took a seat at the table, right between Smoke and her friend—across from her man. The other woman cleared her throat to speak, but Annie could only focus on how Smoke had yet to acknowledge her.

“Just a bottle of wine,” her friend offered blankly.

“Well,” Annie breathed emptily. She didn’t know what to say or how to proceed. Never once had she been in a situation such as this, but she promised herself that she’d make it out alive. Noticing that her dress had ridden up, Annie fought the fabric to bring it down to an appropriate length, but that was entirely the wrong move.

Smoke’s eyes were on her in an instant, burning holes into her body because who did she think she was wearing something that short outside the house? Who did she think she was showing off what was his? He swallowed a thick gulp of wine, gritting his teeth when it hit the back of his throat.

He’d been too distracted earlier, but Annie had Smoke’s full attention now.

Seated at the square dining table in the middle of an overly loud restaurant, the man found himself placed between Annie and her new nigga. It disgusted him to see her making eyes at the man across from her while he was completely unconcerned with his own girl. They’d had a fight before arriving. Something stupid about him being distant and not showing much affection, something about how he hadn’t initiated sex in ages; But he was really cool off all that. He wanted Annie. Needed Annie.

The past week or so without the woman made him feel like he was going to die, but now that he could see her again, he’d been restored.

Between flagged down waiters and their food finally arriving from the backed up kitchen, little words had left his mouth. Smoke watched with angered eyes as Annie talked with everyone but him. She hardly looked in his direction, but it gave him plenty of time to analyze everything else. Both his and Annie’s dates were looking at the woman as if she’d hung the stars, severely infatuated by every word coming out of her mouth.

He understood that feeling. Annie was reverent, a fucking sight to behold.

“So, how serious you and Annie is,” he interrupted, bringing tension back to the table. The other man scoffed, working his jaw, and the two women refused to meet each other’s gazes. They were both embarrassed for a multitude of reasons.

“Serious enough,” Annie’s date countered with attitude. His eyebrows were scrunched, leaning into Smoke’s personal space. “You cool wit’ that?”

The question was unnecessary because everyone could tell his answer was a resounding no. Heat rose in his body. Jealousy dripped off of him. Smoke blew from his nostrils.

“Nigga, who the fuck you thin—”

“We’re just enjoyin’ ourselves,” Annie swallowed, unafraid of interrupting Smoke’s speech, uncaring of the glare he sent into the side of her head. She knew she needed to intervene quickly because no one at this table needed to believe that she and this man were anywhere near serious. Smoke was irate. Her friend was envious. And her nigga was ready to fight the whole table ‘bout her—and she wasn’t ready to see him end up on his ass. “We just gettin’ to know each other,” she explained further, shrugging to show indifference. “Learnin’ each other. Havin’ fun.”

“Don’t sound serious to me,” her friend whispered into her glass. And Smoke grunted in agreement. He eyed the way his girl rolled her eyes at the other man, how she clearly viewed him as some sort of intruder when she sent this all up. They didn't have to be here, but now they all pissed.

Smoke chuckled when Annie’s date shrunk into his seat.

Unable to hold back from touching her any longer, the man grabbed her near bare thigh beneath the table. He needed the stability. Needed it to keep him from doing something he would soon regret because Annie’s man was on the verge of saying more slick shit and his girl had turned her eyes to him, suspicious of his behavior as if she wasn't acting just as questionable.

“You good, Smoke,” she questioned from across the table, eyes low and jaw set. Her gaze communicated a million words, and he simply wasn’t ready to deal with that tonight.

“I’m fine,” but as he spoke shortly, his grip tightened on Annie, and he felt her gasp before her fingers joined his atop her thigh.

Annie was losing her mind.

The room was suffocating her, and Smoke's hands on her body—and beginning to tighten every second—only made her want him more. She felt stupid for spending the last week not talking to him, but she needed to make him sweat. In her attempts to have him unnerved, things had backfired, and all she wanted was to be alone with the man she had been avoiding for days.

“I think I need some air,” the woman exasperated, shooting a heated glance in his direction.

Before she could even stand, both men had moved to help her from her seat, and even her friend had extended a hand in assistance as well. It was awkward. Embarrassingly, Annie declined the help, finding the nearest exit to the restaurant's private courtyard.

It was much quieter outside, and the night air had a cooling note to it that instantly calmed her body. The dress she wore clung to her in the best way, ridding up with each step she made toward the fountain in the middle of the space. She was most surprised at the fact that no one was out here, and her mind cleansed itself at that realization.

“I can’t believe you brought that nigga,” she heard from behind her, the words hot as they punctuated the air. She could feel his body nearing hers, and as she rolled her shoulders to stand up straight, she could feel the hard plains of his chest.

“What you expect me to do, Smoke,” Annie questioned, exhaustion and need in her tone. “Just show up alone?”

“Hell yeah,” he grumbled. With a hand moving to her waist, he pulled her ass to lay flush with his crotch. He laughed at the shiver down her spine. “You mine, Annie, and both of them up in there lookin’ at you like they got the right to.”

“Smoke,” the woman groaned, slowly grinding into him. She was listening, or at least trying to, but Smoke was addictive. All it took was a few short words and that damn grumble to get her going. She didn’t know how she’d survive the rest of the night.

“Told ‘em I was headed to make a phone call, so we ain’t got much time, baby girl,” he whispered headily. “What you want?”

“I need to cum,” she cried, turning around in his arms. She fisted his shirt and gave him the softest eyes she could muster. “It’s been too long.”

“And who’s fault is that,” Smoke growled. He walked her into a corner where one wall of the building met another; where dense plants created enough shadows for him to do what needed to be done; where the world could become their own.

His lips landed on her neck first; Her purse was still sitting at the table, and they didn’t need the added drama of smudged makeup to ruin tonight anymore than they were about to. He nipped at her skin with care as his fingers glided down her thighs and back up again. Smoke would never get enough of the feel of her—the softness, the solidity beneath it all.

“You out of yo' mind comin' wit' that nigga,” he argued yet again. “Even crazier for wearin' this little ass dress, but I'm gon' let you slide for now.”

Her dress hem was thrown up over her hips before she could process everything, and his hands were inside her panties just as she had demanded. Annie loved that Smoke was a man on a mission in everything that he did. If there was a task to complete, he was diligent in seeing it through. Currently, she was his task, so when his thick fingers found her wet heat, she allowed her body to settle, knowing she would be taken care of.

It felt as if she were being engulfed—by him, by her emotions, by the entire date night from Hell. All she wanted was Smoke, but as his fingers stroked her, she just couldn’t stay focused on the moment.

“Breathe, baby,” the man reminded her, slowing his hand between her legs. The pace was teasing, shallower than he knew Annie needed. Her warmth surrounded him, and her arousal dripped down his fingers with each dragging thrust.

“Please,” Annie choked out, clawing at his shoulders. Her mind was still swirling, imagining both of their dates waiting at the table, hopeful for their return. Guilt settled into her skin, but she needed this. Staring into the man’s eyes, she attempted to ground herself, slowly beginning to work her hips into his palm.

“There you go,” Smoke encouraged, increasing his speed as she rutted against him. Heat flushed his face when she grabbed his throat and held him there, but he couldn’t lie about how good it felt. The choking—along with her moans—made him feel lightheaded in the best way, urging him to bring her to her climax. But his arousal was thumping in the seat of his own pants, and every few seconds, he thrusted his clothed length against her thigh.

“Put it in,” Annie lulled into his left ear.

And how could he resist that?

Looking out over his shoulder and finding the courtyard still empty, Smoke quickly unbuckled his belt. He’d have to do a whole lot of lying when he made it back to the table after this, but all of that was a distant concern that he refused to let take precedence.

“I ain’t got no condom,” he breathed heavily, but he was quick to realize that Annie didn’t mind when her leg wrapped around his hip and her hand dragged his dick closer to her entrance.

“I’m surprised you even came tonight,” the woman at the table grinned like a Cheshire cat. Her voice was teetering on the edge of something smug, but the man beside her didn’t pick up on it.

“Why are you surprised,” he questioned in response.

“I just thought you’d have a problem with it after Annie told you,” she chuckled.

“Told me what,” he asked once more, and the woman knew she was about to be triumphant.

“Oh, you don’t know, do you,” she feigned innocence. Her eyes got big and round as if she hadn’t meant to spill the beans and saw no way out but through. “You know Annie’s like my best friend and all, and we’re so close,” she began, voice lilting. “I thought she would have told you about me, her, and Smoke since y'all are so serious and everything.”

“Y’all—”

“Fucked? Yeah,” she answered with indifference, shrugging as she beckoned a waiter over for another bottle of wine. She refilled her glass and tried her best to stuff down her grin. She so badly needed this nigga to move on—because in her mind, if she had to compete for Annie’s attention against Smoke only, she’d double her chances at winning.

Oh, how wrong she was.

But nevertheless, the man beside her only added to her overconfidence when sadness washed over his body. She watched him look down at his watch and back toward the two empty chairs at their table.

“Fuck this pussy, baby,” Annie demanded, smacking the side of Smoke’s ass as he folded her up into the corner. She adored the heat of the moment, how they were doing this in public when they had people waiting for them. She loved the seclusion of it, how it was dark in their corner, and with the plants blocking the view no one would see them anyway.

It felt right no matter how wrong it was, and with Smoke finally fucking her raw like this, she was ready to give him what he wanted. What she had been denying herself, too.

“You mine,” she slurred, drunk off of the feeling of his thrusts.

“Huh, baby,” he grunted, sweat near his hairline.

“You my only nigga,” she confirmed, moaning lightly at him faltering in shock. She grabbed his face, nails crescenting his skin. “You mine, and I’m yours. But you need to put an end to yo’ relationship. Can you do that for me, baby?”

The words were sealed with a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Smoke nodded his head profusely before doubling his efforts.

“I swear it’s over wit’ her,” he damn near cried, throat cracking around a moan.

He’d do whatever she asked because Annie was his priority. Annie was what he’d always needed.

He continued to fuck her as he felt his body beginning to succumb to their combined efforts. Annie was clenching around his length and swearing softly against his lips. She couldn’t take it anymore, the guilt turning into something that nudged at her desire. Neither of them cared about the consequences or repercussions of their cheating because they had this: each other.

As they walked back to the table, they did it together—side by side instead of hiding behind a lie any longer.

Each step sent fear through Annie's body, but as Smoke's shoulder brushed against hers, her heart rate leveled out. What they hadn't expected upon returning was for the table to be missing one of their guests. The closer they got, Smoke's girl became clearer in their view, and when her head turned in their direction, a near evil smirk lit her face.

"Where ole dude at," Smoke puzzled distantly, knowing that whenever he turned up it would be time to come clean. He sat in his seat, Annie to one side and his girl in front of him. The laugh she let out told him everything he needed to know.

"He left," she muttered, already taking in Annie's appearance: the wrinkles in her dress, the slant of her hem, the dampness along her edges.

"Why'd he go," Annie uttered worriedly, causing both of the people at the table to roll their eyes. It's not that she cared about him that much, but when she left the table, everything was fine except for her need for Smoke.

"Y'all was out there together, weren't y'all," the other woman questioned instead, completely disregarding what she'd been asked. Her gaze had moved to Smoke, and his eyes told it all. He could never lie too well when confronted with something outright. His leg was bouncing beneath the table, and his brows were furrowed in a way that said he couldn't wait for tonight to be over with. But those damn eyes lit up every time he looked over at Annie, and the way he wanted her made the other woman's heart hurt.

"I asked you a question," Annie insisted, huffing and crossing her arms beneath her chest. "What did you say to him?" Because she knew the woman had done something. Her friend had set this all up for a reason, and she never liked the idea of Annie entertaining another person. Never liked that she didn't have all of Annie's attention.

"He somehow found out about our li'l threesome," she admitted with a casualness that irked Annie to her core.

"Why would you tell him that," she groaned. "You know I hadn't told him yet."

"I guess it slipped my mind," but as she said the words, she looked at Smoke. The darkness in his eyes. The irritation building in his bones. "What were y'all doin' outside?"

And although Smoke wanted to allow Annie the opportunity to speak her mind, he needed to put an end to this.

"We was fuckin'," he exasperated, already feeling Annie's eyes on him due to his bluntness. He continued to look at the woman he had arrived with tonight, watching the emotions pass over her face. He remembered the fight from earlier about him not being present. He remembered the days she'd come home after hanging out with Annie and how all she wanted was to fuck him with the thought of the other woman fresh in her mind. He thought back to when she had first admitted to wanting a threesome with her friend—the betrayal of it.

The look on her face now had nothing to do with her being cheated on and everything to do with the fact that it was with Annie—the woman that she wanted more than anything else. But she was his now, and that thought settled him.

"We through," he huffed, standing from his seat. He pulled out some cash, throwing it on the table. "You ain't wanted me for a long time, and I apologize for lyin' but that's all I got for you." He wanted to scoff when she looked up at him because she looked pathetic. Shoulders hunched and eyes wet, he could tell she knew this was the end of whatever fantasy she had created for her and the other woman. As much as he wanted to bring it up, it wasn't worth it.

Annie stood when his hand extended toward her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, standing over the other woman with an honest look. "But it was never gonna work between us."

And with a promise to move out within the week and to pay his half of the rent for the remainder of their lease, Smoke and Annie departed from the double date from hell—hand in hand and with a weight lifted off of their shoulders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~4,200

a/n: and they lived happily ever afterrrr—-

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

“She was one of those languid women made of dark honey. Smooth and sweet, and terribly sticky, who take control of a room with a syrupy gesture. A toss of the hair, a single, slow whiplash of the eyes—and all the while remain as still as the center of a hurricane, apparently unaware of the force of gravity by which they irresistibly attract to themselves the yearnings and the souls of men.” Perfume - Patrick Süskind

Annie stared out the kitchen window of Nellie’s home, the pad of her thumb caught on the tip of an empty pea pod. She could see Nellie’s mama in the yard hanging linens from the clothesline. Beyond that, the hum of Fourth Street crept through the backyards and alleyways of the neighborhood. Smoke rose from the railroad depot a street over, coughing thick black puffs into the air that looked like a blemish against the bright blue afternoon sky. And somewhere in the distance, the sweet, rotten smell of the Sunflower River floated its way through the cracks of the modest shotgun off Ashton Street.

“Louisiana?” Gigi asked. She shelled a pea with quick hands, dropping the pod in the waste bowl. “You over there daydreamin’.”

“With a big ass grin on your face, too,” Verity chimed in.

Annie blinked twice. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.” 

Nellie grinned. “Mhmm. She thinkin’ about her man.”

Annie rolled her eyes but her mouth twitched. Her man. Her mouth felt dry, words trapped in her throat, but she didn’t dare swallow. Not with Nellie sneaking glances at her, Pearline watching her closely out of the corner of her eye, and Gigi eyeing her curiously. Eventually the conversation folded back into itself. The phonograph skipped to a new song, shells hit the bowl in the middle of the table with a hollow tap, Verity started talking about living in Bronzeville. But desire bloomed under Annie’s skin like a bruise the more she thought of Smoke, spreading through her veins like a whisper of lightning before a storm. 

“So are you gonna…you know…” Pearline started. “Give him your virgin?” she whispered.

Annie turned her head to Pearline.

“Uhh, I-I think so.”

“You think so? Or you know so?” Gigi asked.

“Don’t do it if you ain’t sure,” Pearline added.

“I am sure.”

The answer settled into the room.

“You scared?” The question came from Verity.

A beat.

“Yeah.”

“Of what?”

Before she could answer, another question followed, this time from Gigi again. “You scared of what it’s gon’ feel like, or how you gon’ feel after the deed is done?” 

Annie hummed in thought. 

“Both,” she said finally. “But mostly what it’s gon’ feel like.” 

She fiddled with her fingers. “Do it hurt?” 

She looked up then, avoiding the direct gaze of the faces staring back at her.

Verity spoke up.

“At first, yes,” she said honestly. “Then it feels good. As long as he know what he doin’,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Mhmm.”

“Oh,” Annie trailed off. She rubbed her arms, looking down at her work. Their pile of peas was dwindling down as the day dragged on.

Pearline placed a hand on Annie’s forearm, the touch reassuring. “I feel like you in good hands.”

“‘Specially since he snatched you up so quick,” Nellie added. “He ain’t waste no time.”

“None.”

Annie chuckled. She rubbed her arms again. “Yeah, I guess so.”

She shifted her weight on the chair, her chest tightening. Her heartbeat thumped loudly in her chest, and she tried to ease it by taking deep, controlled breaths. As the conversation in Nellie’s kitchen turned into something lighter, Annie’s thoughts drifted back to what she finally admitted out loud.

The next day…

A bloody sludge of gills and guts covered Annie’s apron. Her fingers, the edge of the kitchen counter—coated in it. She cleaned and gutted catfish, then skinned, trimmed, and sliced them with a thin, sharp knife, separating the scaly skin from the fillet after removing the entrails. The heads sat in a corner of the countertop, where Felix sat on the kitchen floor just below. Tail swinging, eyes wide, he looked like he was ready to pounce.

Annie watched him out of the corner of her eye. 

“Aht aht!” she scolded, pointing the tip of her knife at him. “Don’t even think about it.” 

Some of the gunk from the knife flew onto his paw, which he looked down at like he was personally offended by its presence. He looked up at Annie and meowed, a short trill of frustration. 

She talked back like he could understand what she was saying, looking up from scooping the kidney out of a fish. “What?”

“Mrrp,” he meowed.

Annie rolled her eyes. “That ain’t my problem.”

“Mrrrrrrrrp.”

“Since when you scared of a lil’ blood?”

Felix yawned and rubbed his head with his clean paw, licked the blood off his other one, then meowed again.

“Le pauvre,” she teased.

He whipped around, slipping out the back through the slightly cracked door. Just then Aunt Della walked through the same door, a basket at her hip full of root vegetables. Her hair was pinned back and kept in place with a lavender headscarf, her temples displaying hues of vivid black and silver kinks, coils, and curls that spoke to time and memory. She set the basket and her gardening gloves down on the kitchen table next to the chipped ceramic bowl of onions.

“What you do?”

“To who?” Annie wiped the sweat beading on her brow with the back of her arm.

“Felix.”

“I ain’t did nothin’ to that boy,” she huffed. “He wanna stand in the rain and be mad he got wet.”

“Figures,” Aunt Della chuckled. “You almost done?”

“Almost done, auntie,” Annie answered. “Got two more left.” 

“Lemme start heatin’ this oil up then.”

Three knocks on the front door interrupted their routine, causing both ladies to turn their heads. Loretta Hightower stood at the door, visible through the front window in a tailored three-piece set and matching hat. The vibrant green suit dazzled under the sun that cloaked the porch in a veil of honey-gold. Annie, elbows deep in fish guts, turned back to the catfish while Aunt Della walked over to answer the front door.

“Delilah!” Loretta squealed. 

“Loretta!” 

They embraced. A long, familiar hold that spoke of history and friendship. The low murmur of their conversation carried into the kitchen as Annie stood facing the large back window. Felix was bathing himself with his tongue, staring at her like he had an attitude. She stuck her tongue out at him.

Soft footsteps and the click-clack of heels approached the kitchen. 

“Annie! Loretta got somethin’ for you.”

Annie gasped softly, turning and wiping her hands off on her apron. “What is it?” 

“You got a letter back.” 

Annie jolted and hurried to the wash basin. 

“Oh, let me just…” She submerged her hands down to her forearms in the soapy water, picking up a brush to scrub under her fingernails. “Just gimme a second. Thank you so much, Mrs. Hightower.”

Aunt Della and Loretta chuckled. 

“It’s not goin’ anywhere, baby,” Aunt Della assured her. 

“And it’s a thick one, too, Annie,” Loretta added.

Annie’s heart went from leaping, to soaring, to beating so fast it almost bolted out of her chest. She scrubbed death off her hands until they started to prune. They shook gently underneath the water, vibrating the basin and splashing droplets onto her apron. Aunt Della and Loretta could both hear the soft sniffles she tried to hide underneath the sounds of splashing water. Aunt Della approached her and Annie felt a hand on her back as she whispered something that made her calm her frantic movements.

Annie slowed her motions, dried her hands, and took the envelope, holding it like she held the world in her palms. She brought the paper to her nose, inhaling the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume and her father’s aftershave, breathing it into memory. She gently detached the adhesive of the envelope with wobbly fingers, her heart thumping in her chest as she removed a stack of thick, wide paper folded delicately from the envelope, taking care to notice the flower petals that were packed along with it. 

Blue lobelias. 

They were her favorite.

It was a visually striking perennial that grew in clusters in the field by her great-grandmother’s shack. She remembered hiding behind them when she played hide-and-seek with her brothers as a child. 

Annie wiped a tear that threatened to fall down her cheek carefully and unfolded the letter. The first thing her eyes ran across was her mother’s beautiful cursive that filled the page with soft, whimsical strokes.

Our dear Annie, was all she read at first. Then she reread it. And read it again. 

The words hit her right in the gut. Homesickness burned deep under her skin, hotter than the afternoon sun that hung large and heavy and beamed through the kitchen windows. Deciding to read the letter later on, she tucked it back into the envelope, careful not to spill any petals. The thick envelope went into her apron pocket. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hightower. Thank you so much.” 

Loretta took a step towards her, then widened her arms, bringing her into a hug. She rubbed her back with a soothing, maternal warmth.

“Lemme know if you need anything else, okay?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Annie felt the long tail of Felix tickle the side of her calf as he contorted his body around her ankle and tilted his head up at her.

“Mrrow,” he purred.

“Guess you ain’t mad at me no mo’, huh?” Annie pursed her lips at Felix as he stared at her for a moment before disappearing into the front room. 

“Well, I better be goin’,” Loretta said. “Almost supper time at the restaurant.” 

“Thank you again,” Annie said.

Loretta nodded, gave Aunt Della a hug, then walked towards the front, the floorboards groaning under her heels. She hesitated at the door, looked back and gave another winsome smile, then slipped outside without another word. 

For a moment, the cool air that crept in made the room feel less stuffy, like the crack of the door let something slip out with it. 

Annie exhaled, her shoulders relaxing.

“You okay, sugar?” Aunt Della asked.

“Yeah,” Annie looked around, rolling up her sleeves. “Just need to do somethin’ with my hands.” 

She crossed the room to the woodstove and scooped a heaving amount of lard into the cast iron pot to heat up. She checked the pot of beans on the back burner, stirring it once before covering it back up. Aunt Della moved to the counter, rolling her own sleeves up and cleaning the catfish filets while Annie mixed the batter together.

The scent of frying oil filled the kitchen even as words didn’t. 

The two women worked together quietly preparing supper as the shuffle of boots became louder, attracted by the smell of spice and fried cornmeal. 

Annie stood at the stove frying fish in batches, watching the corners curl up and waiting to feel the underside was the perfect shade of golden before it was ready to flip.

Annie was in her head.

Because that’s where the letter lived. Not the words. Not yet. It was the smell of her parents soaked into the paper. The flower petals that brought her back to her childhood. 

She didn’t hear the door creak, the screen door slamming shut in that playful way. Didn’t notice the floorboards acquiesce under the weight of his soldier-like footfalls. Didn’t feel the air in the room shift. Didn’t hear him greet Aunt Della in the background. And definitely didn’t hear him approach her.

Two large hands gripped Annie’s waist. The scent of tobacco and peppermint, potent and personal, floated over her shoulder eclipsing the smell of hot grease.

Annie smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey.” 

Smoke set his chin on her shoulder, his hands firm on her hips. “How you be?” 

“Good,” she hummed, the answer an affirmation that settled deep in his chest. 

Better now, she thought to herself. 

The homesickness—gone. Thoughts of the place she called—used to call—home, all melted under his touch. It soothed her somehow. The way his grip was firm but gentle on her waist. Possessive when he pulled her in tighter and rested his chin on her shoulder. Restrained when a shaky breath hit the delicate skin of her neck.

Smoke noticed it all. 

The way her shoulders slackened when he touched her. 

The little jolt that ran through her body. Barely noticeable, but there. 

The way her breath hitched. 

The way she tried to hide it all. 

That was his favorite part; the way she tried to mask her reactions. 

Then she did something unexpected.

Before he knew it she reached behind her, her fingers finding the shell of his ear. She grazed it just once with her fingertips, the touch barely there. But still. He couldn't help but shiver. It was a full-body one. His grip tightened on her waist, fingers twisting the fabric of her skirt for a second before relaxing again. He watched the corner of her mouth turn up as she turned a fish filet in the cast iron pan. Then he grinned too. His lips twisted playfully, the dimple in his cheek caving in.

“Y’all lookin’ mighty cozy over there.”

Stack. 

He walked in, brows high on his forehead when he saw Smoke behind Annie like a vat of hot oil wasn’t bubbling right in front of them. Steam rose slowly from the pot, beading sweat on both Annie and Smoke’s foreheads. One bad decision and a body part could end up with a third-degree burn.

But neither of them seemed to care. 

They didn’t seem to notice he or Miss Della were even there.

Annie swayed a bit as she flipped and dipped fish. And Smoke moved with her, a hushed conversation taking place between them as he rested his head on her shoulder. 

Stack looked at Aunt Della like “you seein’ this?” She shrugged. He walked over and gave her a hug as she prepared sides with serving utensils, all the while eyeing the perfectly golden-brown catfish strips piling up on a platter next to the stove. 

His mouth watered at the smell of the crispy fried crust and the spice of the batter—and he just knew once he bit into it, it’d steam and flake just the way he liked it.

So he took a chance.

He reached for a piece at the edge of the platter and two heads snapped towards him.

“You tryna get popped?” Annie asked.

Stack pulled his hand back. “I’m tryna get some fish, actually.”

“You’ll get some when it’s ready.”

“It looks ready.”

“I mean during supper. At the table.”

“I just wanna taste.”

Annie smirked, her chin tilting up playfully. “Later.”

Stack reached again.

“Boy!” She pointed her tongs at him.

Smoke watched the whole thing, amused. He didn’t move from his position.

“Girl!”

“You tryna get burned? Stack, you too close to the stove.”

Stack blinked. “Y’all basically knee deep in oil.” He smoothed out his shirt. “Besides. A lil’ burn won’t hurt me, woman.”

“You gon’ get popped with more than just oil if you don’t move,” Annie said with a grin. 

“Make it worth my while then,” he teased back. “Lemme get a lil’ piece.” He was relentless. He eyed a strip with a crispy end that he could break off easily. He reached out for the third time. 

Annie sighed. She had turned back to watching the pot now, but still caught Stack out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t move that hand.”

Stack smirked.

Annie rolled her eyes, breaking off the end of the piece Stack was eyeing. Steam curled into the air as the fish broke apart in flaky, white pieces. “Here, greedy!” She placed it in his palm before turning back to the stove.

“I’ll be that,” Stack teased. He hummed as soon as the savory spice of the fish hit his tastebuds. “Thank ya kindly.” He swaggered into the front room satisfied.

Smoke finally moved. 

“I’ll let you get back to it,” he said. He rubbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek before following his brother out the same way.

Annie chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she finished the last pieces she had left to fry. 

“I reckon everything goin' well between you two.” Aunt Della said.

Whole time, Annie had completely forgotten her great-aunt was even in the room. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of a moment—any moment with Smoke, really—being watched.

“Uh yeah,” she replied. That familiar tingling she only got when she thought about him spreading across her skin like wildfire. “We are.”

Annie felt Aunt Della’s smile from across the room, even with her back turned. She left the kitchen to ring the supper bell, the fabric of her skirt fluttering around her. 

Men made their way into the dining area one-by-one, fresh from cleaning their hands. They carried with them the smell of musk, turpentine, and a hard day’s work. It was heavy. Masculine. 

The twins walked in last.

Stack came in first, all dimples and bright eyes.

Smoke walked in behind him still sporting that same dimple that showed up earlier when his eyes found hers.

He didn’t hurry to sit at the table. Didn’t hurry to grab a plate. He stood at the edge of the room, waiting as Annie and Miss Della brought in the food. A large platter of fried fish, a steaming pot of beans and rice, skillets of cornbread, and a large pot of greens went to the middle of the table. 

The dining area filled with rising steam, watering mouths, and low conversation as the lodgers began to devour their supper.

Annie dropped her arms and stepped to him, the faint smell of pipe mix and soap clinging to his clothes.

“You not gon’ eat?” she asked.

“Was waitin’ for you.”

“You ain’t gotta do that.”

He grabbed her hands. “I do.”

Annie tipped her head towards the kitchen. “Lemme go wash up first.” 

“I’ll fix you a plate. Before these niggas eat it all.”

Annie giggled softly.

“Whatchu want?” 

“Just some fish…,” she said, walking backwards to the kitchen, “and some beans and rice.”

Smoke nodded once. “I got it.”

Supper was spent at the high-top four-seater table in the corner of the dining area. Smoke and Annie sat next to each other, Stack and Aunt Della directly across from them. They talked. They laughed. They ate. They drank. 

Every so often, Annie’s shoulder would brush against Smoke’s. She’d reach across the table for something—her glass, the saltshaker. When she pulled back their arms would press against each other and they’d stay there. Close. It felt like both of them were waiting for the moment something would force them to pull away from each other. It didn’t. 

Occasionally, Smoke would brush lint from Annie’s clothes or thumb a crumb from her cheek. His fingers would linger for a second too long, like they were waiting on her to pull back. She didn’t.

By the time supper was long over, the heat still lingered. 

It wasn’t from the food.

Even outside where a cool breeze swept through the night in broken intervals, pulling a delicate, melodic sound from the windchimes that reached back into the yard where Smoke and Annie stood. A fading oil lamp hung up high, casting gold across the backyard and leaving the rest of it in shadows. 

Annie didn’t know why she pulled Smoke to the side of the lean-to shed. Or maybe she did and she just didn’t want to admit it to herself.

She stood by it, back pressed against the wooden siding, hips tilted out slightly as her fingers twisted in the fabric of her skirt. 

Smoke stood in front of her, jaw tight, hands at his sides. They flexed periodically, twitched like he was fighting something. 

Nature’s soundtrack felt even louder tonight. The chirp of crickets shuddered in the grass. The deep bellow of a bullfrog echoed in the distance. And somewhere down the block, a harmonica played a gritty blues bend that floated down the street like smoke curling from a cigarette.

But the moment Annie shifted, the sounds began to slowly fade away. 

She moved in one smooth motion. Her hands rose to the collar of Smoke’s shirt, fingers twisting around the edge. Then she tugged, just once. The movement pulled him in until his hands bracketed her on the shed. 

She didn’t hesitate. 

The kiss started softly.

The slow smack of lips drowned out the crickets first, then the bullfrog. Then the metal-on-metal tapping of the water pump, its handle moving stubbornly with the wind. Smoke pulled Annie towards him as their mouths moved against each other. His hands found the small of her back, making it bow into him until she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave in to his pull. He sighed as the feeling of soft, plush curves met a hard stomach, strong arms, and broad shoulders carved by war and Mississippi cotton fields. 

They kissed slowly. Like they were savoring the taste of each other. Their lips met and released, connecting in a slow dance that was all their own. Then the kiss deepened, their tongues coming out to play as they twirled around each other.

Annie’s hands moved from his neck to his shoulders to steady herself as their heads swiveled and they explored every corner of their mouths. She gasped, then groaned, when he pulled her bottom lip into his mouth. Biting, then soothing the sting with a lick.

Their tongues flicked against each other, slow and nasty. Like the harmonica still playing down the street. It had slowed down its tune, the legato wailing all sultry and soulful through the night. 

Even that sound disappeared after a while. It was quiet in the bubble they created when it was just them two, just shared breaths and gasps for air. 

Annie tasted like pot likker and the peppermint stick she sucked on after supper. Like home on a quiet winter evening in front of a fire. Smoke tasted like tobacco and grass from the cigarette he finished right before Annie pulled him into the backyard when she thought nobody was paying attention.

Her hands fell from his shoulders to his chest, rubbing her palms against the solidness that sat underneath the cotton. His hands traveled south from her back to the curve of her ass, his calloused hands smoothing over all the thickness that sat back there. 

His blood sparked hot. 

His hands itched to grip, wanted to grab—but he pulled back instead.

“Annie,” he rasped, his voice low and rough.

Their breaths were heavy, lustful. What began slowly was quickly turning into something more gluttonous than supper. He felt it in him. He saw it in Annie.

He pressed his forehead to hers. Her eyes widened as the noise from inside swelled abruptly. She turned her head towards it as her pulse sped down and her breath came out slower. When the noise dimmed down again, she turned back.

“Why’d you stop?”

The question cut through the silence. 

Smoke looked at Annie, her brows knit, her eyes searching his.

The oil lamp above them crackled one last time before completely snuffing out, leaving them with just the dim light that pooled outside from the kitchen window. A large wax candle sat on the sill, its fire burning dimly through the window. Annie looked at Smoke. Even in the near darkness outside, she could feel the hunger in his gaze. 

And she felt the same way. 

Famished.

Smoke lifted a hand. His fingers brushed the side of her face, grazing the smooth skin of her cheek. Annie’s eyes fluttered under his touch. Her hand grabbed his wrist and his hand stilled, but it wasn’t to stop him. It was to hold him there. 

“It’s okay,” she whispered, gulping when she saw the darkening of his eyes.

“I ain’t never…” was all she got off before the words disappeared in her throat. 

She didn’t finish her sentence. She didn’t need to.

Everything in Smoke went still except the muscle of his jaw that twitched once then stopped.

He looked away.

He wasn’t surprised. That was the thing.

Her words were confirmation of something he’d already assumed about her. 

But there was something about the way she said it that he filed away for later.

She’d never been touched. 

Not like this. 

And while he stood breathing desire down her throat with his hand on her ass, he felt something twist in his chest.

Guilt.

It moved in quickly, crowding his thoughts. Guilt for moving too fast. Guilt for letting his want for her carry him far enough that he had to stop himself before she did. 

“I know,” Smoke said finally. 

Annie looked away.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t look at him at that moment. 

Not because she was embarrassed, ashamed, or insecure. Not really. She just felt inexperienced. Young in a way she hated feeling in anybody’s eyes. 

Her eyes traveling up his chest to his collar where she picked at a loose thread. “I want you,” she whispered, “to be my first.” 

The words were so quiet that the night almost took hold of them. 

Smoke’s eyes closed for half a second. He pulled her close, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“You ‘sho?”

For a split second, his words sounded like a plea to Annie rather than a question.

“Yes,” she said, grabbing onto the folds of his shirt. 

The backyard held its breath. Here in their little bubble, the only thing that existed was Smoke, Annie, and this moment between them. Smoke took Annie’s hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles, keeping his eyes trained on hers.

“You mine?”

Annie grinned, nodding once. 

“Nah,” Smoke gripped her chin again, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She lowered her head, then looked up, her big brown eyes certain and glittering in the sliver of moonlight that peeked out from behind the clouds. Her lips parted. “I’m yours. Tout.”

“Creole?”

“Mhmm,” she grinned proudly.

Smoke hummed— a deep vibrating sound that shot up Annie’s spine. Her words were a soothing balm, loosening the hooks of guilt lodged in his back.

“Good,” he said. He rubbed her back with wide strokes, holding her close as the nighttime settled around them, comfortable and warm despite the November cold. 

“Ou m’ap pèm?”

“What’s that?”

“You mine too?”

“Teach me how to say it back.”

“Mwen se ou.”

“Mwen se ou,” he repeated back.

“You gettin’ better,” she gasped, her whole face lighting up. 

Smoke smirked smugly. “Gotta good teacher.”

“Mwen se tout ou.”

“That too,” he grunted.

Annie snorted, turning her head briefly. “Don’t be makin’ fun of me.”

“I ain’t,” he shrugged. “That’s what you sound like.”

He gave her a real smile then, dimples deep in both his cheeks. He couldn’t hide it.

“I was so nervous,” she admitted, her grin wrapping around her words despite herself.

Smoke raised a brow. “Nervous ‘bout what?” 

“To tell you.”

“That you a virgin?”

Annie nodded, hand finding that loose thread again. Smoke grabbed her hand and kissed it.

“You ain’t gotta be nervous to tell me stuff, you hear?” 

Annie sighed, pressing her palms to his chest. “I know.”

Smoke stared down at Annie. Her soft, panting breaths, her heart beating against his own chest. He raised his right hand to hers, covering her right palm that lay directly over his heart. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. The gesture—the warmth in it—made her look at him. Their eyes locked and held, the look between them speaking louder than any words could at that moment. 

“I’m scared,” she said quietly. 

“Scared of what?” 

Their mouths moved but their bodies were still. Smoke’s hand sat over Annie’s on his chest like it was frozen there, his heart beat steadily under her palm. 

“What it’s gon’ be like,” she mumbled, barely a breath, “the first time.”

“What you think?”

Annie shook her head, unsure. “I don’t know.”

Smoke ran his tongue along the back of his teeth.

“How you want it to be?”

Annie’s lips twisted in thought as Smoke’s eyes pinned her in place. Their hands stayed where they were, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. 

“Don’t be scared.”

Annie said nothing. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak but decided against it.

Smoke’s voice dropped low and deep, rough with something—but not sultry. He wasn’t trying to make her shiver or choke on a gasp. Not right now. Right now he wanted—needed—to assure her. He needed her to feel the promise in his words. Needed her to know he meant it.

He looked Annie in the eye, the weight of his hand pressing harder against hers where it rested on top of his heart. “I’m gon’ take good care of you, Annie.”

The words were simple, but she felt them in her core. Her skin lit up with that familiar tingle, her heartbeat thumping hard against her ribs. 

Annie looked down at her hand, shifting it slightly under his.

She could hear the promise beneath the words.

And something in her—something that felt older than her—told her to believe it. So, she did.

“I ain’t even thought about it like that. Not for real.”

Lie.

Smoke raised a brow. “Never?”

Annie shook her head once. Then she nodded, pursing her lips so the corner of her mouth would stop twitching. 

“Well,” she breathed, the gust of air warming his collarbone. “A little.”

She rolled her lips inward and finally looked up at him. 

The heat that had reduced to a simmer sparked up again. Smoke’s eyes darkened at her words, her curiosity, her comfort. Her closeness felt like second nature to him, but her vulnerability hit something deeper in his chest.

“What you was thinkin’?”

Annie’s eyes trailed from his eyes down to his lips. They sat perfectly on his face— thick, plump, and so soft against her own.

“Tell me,” he insisted, voice low and coaxing. 

“I had a dream…” She looked away. Her eyes went to something different now since she felt his gaze piercing her soul. She focused on a bush of moonflowers by the fence, their wilting petals fluttering in the breeze like little ghosts. “About you.” 

“‘Bout me?” he drawled. Smugly, almost. “And what happened in this dream?” His hands traveled up and down her spine.

Annie fidgeted nervously.

“I don’t remember.”

Smoke tilted his head. “How you know it was about me then?” 

She hesitated. 

“‘Cause….”

“‘Cause what?”

“How I felt.”

“How you feel?”

The flashbacks came in waves. Along with a feeling she couldn’t find the word for until now. 

“Full.” 

The word came out so tiny, it sounded accidental. It was barely a word. More like a faint expulsion of air that drifted through the seams of his mouth. But it was raw, and it settled like a presence in his chest, latching onto the corners of his soul that housed devotion and something deeper. 

Restraint pressed against every instinct he’d ever possessed and the inside of his slacks. 

This woman had no idea what she was doing to him.

“We should go inside,” he muttered. “Befo’ your aunt come lookin’ for us.”

Annie giggled softly, his shoulders relaxing at the sound. 

“You scared of Aunt Della?”

“Yes.”

Annie laughed for real this time, the tension loosening just enough to let them breathe again. They walked towards the back door and Smoke held the door open for her to fully step inside. 

The moon hung high above the rooftops, cutting through the inky black sky like a blade of silver light. It poured through the windows of Annie’s bedroom, making the lobelia petals that were scattered across her covers glow around the edges like they were suspended in a dream. 

Annie unfolded her letter, her eyes scanning through the words briefly, but she was only looking for one thing. Something she’d been holding in since Loretta first placed it in her hands.

The end.

The signatures.

She read it with shaky hands.

All our love,

Papa & Maman

Nana

Junior

Vernon

Leroy

Raymond

Maurice

They were all there.

Except one.

Uriah. 

He was her closest brother.

Annie didn’t know why she expected his name to be scrawled among the signatures, his chicken scratch inked deep into the paper. He’d been dead over a year at that point. But the absence felt worse than accepting he was dead.

She still felt him, like him slipping through the cracks of the earth didn’t necessarily mean he would be missing from a letter sent from home. 

She knew it wasn’t really his missing signature that made tears pool in her eyes, it was his soul. 

Since the government refused to send his body back from France after the war, his spirit had been unsettled. Restless. 

She felt it the most when she took her ilekes off. She always covered them, sandwiching them between two thin, white cloths that belonged to her great-grandmother, then set them in a drawer taking care that they didn’t touch the surface of the wood. 

She’d say a prayer for him at the tiny altar in the corner of her room that sat on top of a warped, lopsided, low table. It smelled of old wood, herbs, and dust.

Salt for protection and peace of mind.

A pinch of soil.

A Mississippi river rock.

His name written on a piece of paper. Pinched and folded in half towards her. 

A half-burned taper candle.

Blue cloth. A snippet from his baby quilt, stitched from her mother’s, grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s hands.

Molasses chews. Because those were his favorite growing up.

She lit the candle, the flame catching blue at first before bleeding orange. When it steadied, she bowed her head.

“Uriah Silas Antonio Royal,” she said. Her voice sounded tiny and helpless in the confines of her room. 

“Blood callin’ you even though your bones ain’t make it back.” 

She paused, taking a shaky breath. 

Then she laid her offering.

“Water for the journey. Salt for your peace. Light so you can see. A piece of home so you remember. Think of us, and remember where you belong.” 

The candle flickered violently. 

“Ancestors, please,” she said, looking out the window to the moon. “Don’t let him cross alone, he scared.” 

Annie swallowed hard to clear the lump that swelled in her throat, a tear drop falling directly onto the flame. It flickered and smoked, but the amber light held the line in the darkness of her room.

She bent over, crying quietly into the fabric of her nightgown, her tears dampening the delicate white cotton. She closed her eyes and the present slipped into the past, seamless and real. She could see it all— the draw, the aim, the shot. The scream she could feel in her bones, muffled by wet soil, quicklime, and tarp. 

Annie opened her eyes and the scent of graveyard dirt and saltwater hung in the air. The silence that came after wasn’t peaceful. It was eerie. 

After a while, she spoke again.

“Ain’t no guns tonight,” she said. She cleared her throat to silence the tears and took a few deep breaths. “Ain’t no shoutin’. Ain’t no mud in your mouth. Just light. Just a way home.” 

The flame flickered again, its shape bending against the darkness like someone was pushing on it. 

Annie wiped the grief that lay wet tracks on her cheeks. 

“It’s okay,” she rasped, catching her breath. “Come on home.”

The flame finally settled into itself. 

Only then did she blow it out. 

The next morning felt like a slow exhale. Annie moved around the boarding house with a lightness that felt like the rainbow after a thunderstorm. Morning duties went by smoothly, followed by breakfast, chores, lessons, and a quick lunch. By the afternoon she was tying bundles of roots in the kitchen while Aunt Della sat in the front room writing a letter at her desk. The house groaned around them as cool air settled into its bones. The phonograph was playing low in the background when they heard a knock on the front door followed by two impatient honks of a car horn.

“I’ll get it,” Annie called from the kitchen. 

She wiped her hands and walked towards the front.

“Hey Pea,” Annie said when she opened the door.

Pearline frowned as she laid eyes on Annie. 

“Annie girl, why you ain’t dressed?”

Annie looked at Pearline. Then she looked at the car idling on the street. Then back to her, confused. 

“Dressed for what?”

“Your fittin’ today!”

“Oh my Lord!”

Aunt Della shook her head as Pearline stepped in, watching Annie trip halfway up the stairs.

“How you doin’, Mrs. Clark?”

“Doin’ fine,” Aunt Della responded. “How you?”

“Doin’ mighty fine myself.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Aunt Della put her pen down and looked at Pearline as she stepped further into the front room. She pulled a small drawstring pouch from the pocket of her dress and placed it on her writing desk. 

Pearline took it and quickly stuffed it in her purse. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

“You welcome.”

Aunt Della's eyes flicked down to Pearline’s stomach before she turned back to her pen and paper. 

Twenty minutes later, Pearline and Annie were on their way to Issaquena Street. The ride was quiet, with Pearline staring out the passenger window while her husband drove. Annie sat in the backseat, lips rolled and hands in her lap. 

“I’m so sorry, Mr. George,” Annie said to Pearline’s husband. “It completely slipped my mind.”

Mr. George grunted as the car came to a slow stop in front of the shop. “That’s alright.”

The girls climbed out of the Model T Ford. 

“Pearline?” He called after his wife.

She looked back as she stepped on the curb. “Yes?”

“Six o’clock.”

“Alright.”

The sign for the shop hung overhead as Pearline and Annie inched their way toward the door. As they walked down the steps and down the short, covered walkway to the modiste, Annie’s thoughts drifted to the excitement waiting for them next week.

The Harvest Party.

LUELLA’S DRESSING ROOM & ALTERATIONS

“Smoke gon’ forget his own name when he see you,” Pearline teased Annie. 

Luella smirked, adjusting a corset frame where it was pinned to one of the Dressmakers’ mannequins. 

Annie blushed where she stood barefoot on the platform in front of the three-way mirror, knee-length robe wrapped around her thick frame, long hair braided into a coily crown. 

Sunlight came through the curtains in golden slits, turning the dust motes suspended by the window into glitter. The click of heels and the low hum of sewing machines faded away behind the damask velvet drapes that separated the private alcove from the showroom. It felt cozy back here— like warmth, perfume, and whispers. Gloves, hair combs, purses, and other finishing touches were lined up on a table on the side where the crystal jars filled with candies added to the plush decor. 

Pearline sat on a velvet ottoman, one leg crossed politely over the other. Her gloved hands came together in her lap, her fingers mindlessly playing with the lace trim at her wrist.

“I can’t wait to see it,” she said. She smiled at Annie through the mirror—but it was bittersweet. Pensive. 

Annie’s brows knit together. “What’s wrong?” she mouthed. 

Pearline just shook her head and looked down. Annie tilted her head at her friend.

Just then, Luella’s assistant walked around the corner with a garment bag. She handled it carefully, hanging it on the clothing rack before rolling it from behind the seating area to rest at the side of the viewing platform. “You ready?” 

Annie turned, her face lighting up, but she still watched Pearline carefully out of the corner of her eye. She had a melancholic aura to her even though she tried to cover it with excitement for her friend. Her spine was snapped straight, her legs politely crossed— but something hung in the air between them.

Annie nodded, signaling she was ready. Luella stepped to the clothing rack and unzipped the garment bag as her and assistant removed it from its cover. She gasped when the rich, deep green velvet bodice caught the dim light of the alcove, then hopped off the platform, padding over to the rack.

“Wow,” Pearline stood up in awe. “It’s beautiful, Annie,” she whispered. She ran her gloved fingers down the sides of it, skimming over the delicate beadwork and fringe. 

It was a one-of-a-kind piece, made to stand out and be seen through the low lights and smoke in the juke. 

Luella and her assistant went over accessory ideas with Annie— purses, coats, shoes. Even some hair ideas. They talked to her about pressing her hair and wearing it pinned back into a chignon with a side part. Her excitement grew by the minute until she looked to the side and saw Pearline. The teasing from earlier was gone. Now she was quiet.

Polite.

But barely there.

They finally got to the jewelry options. Lightweight earrings, delicate necklaces, beaded bracelets. Luella held up a thin silver chain for Annie to look at, but Annie almost winced at the idea of wearing anything but her ilekes. She ran her finger over them.

“You can’t wear that necklace with,” she pointed to it, then to the dress on the rack, “that dress!” Luella’s assistant exclaimed.

Luella quietly agreed. “She’s right, sugar.” 

“But, I always wear my beads,” Annie rubbed one, taking a small step back from the accessory table. 

“Every single day?” Pearline asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “Not every day.”

Pearline shrugged. “So you can go one night without ‘em,” she trailed off as a hand reached over to touch them. 

She stopped herself when she saw Annie’s eyes grow wide.

“I can’t touch ‘em?”

Annie shook her head no.

Pearline crossed her arms, putting her weight on one hip. “Why not?” 

“Cuz they blessed.” 

Pearline scrunched her nose up. “What you mean, blessed?”

Annie looked towards the window, then back. “I don’t really know. But my great-grandma told me I can’t let anyone touch ‘em, or she gotta bless ‘em again. And she dead, so...”

“Annie,” Pearline pleaded quietly. Her face relaxed like she recognized this wasn’t a conversation to have here. Not while they were surrounded by pearls and sequins, lace, leather and perfume. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Luella and her assistant sorted necklaces while they continued their conversation in hushed tones. 

“She gave ‘em to me when I was seven.” 

Pearline’s eyes softened.

“Told me never to take ‘em off.”

“Have you?”

“No,” Annie sighed. “Only on certain days.” 

She exhaled again, her lips curving up into a sly grin. “But I guess I can go without ‘em…for just the night.”

Pearline smiled. 

Luella’s assistant came over and squealed with glee while Luella picked up a long silver necklace with a small diamond pendant that hung like a teardrop in the center.

Luella’s assistant pointed at it. “Annie, what you think ‘bout this one?”

Annie’s eyes lit up, intrigued. “I like it.” Her hands fingered the delicate chain. “A lot.”

She turned to reach over and rub Pearline’s shoulder as Luella and her assistant continued to talk her ear off about her jewelry options. 

“Wanna get a soda after this?” she asked.

“I’d love to.” Pearline couldn’t agree fast enough.

The walk back over to Fourth Street was brisk. Annie and Pearline walked the streets, arms folded across their chests, wool overcoats wrapped tightly around them. 

The sidewalks were even busier today. Despite the unusual cold front that blew into the Delta, most sharecroppers were stuck in limbo waiting on their settlements to come back from the plantation owners. Which means they’d make their way to town looking for some way to entertain themselves.

Besides the cafes and jukes, Fourth Street Drugs was a popular spot. It held a soda fountain on the right side of the store with ice cream, soda, and other fizzy drinks.

Step through the narrow wooden door that separated it from the drugstore and it felt like you were stepping into a different world. 

The space was a haven for young folks—swirling on lacquered stools, sipping sodas, floats, and malts. A polished oval countertop ran along the mirrored wall, a bar-like soda fountain directly in front of it. Ice cream, fruit, and syrups stood in a line up for the soda jerk to easily mix flavors. Light snacks sat in glass displays at each end of the countertop. 

The bell above the shop dinged twice as Annie and Pearline stepped through. 

They made themselves comfortable at the bartop, unwrapping scarves and taking off their hats. Annie ordered an ice cream soda from the soda jerk and Pearline decided on a cherry phosphate over ice. 

They enjoyed the live music— an elderly man in dark blue and black checkered shirt and overalls playing his harmonica and singing. He was tall, dark-skinned, and lanky, but his eyes were warm. His harmonica sat between his hands like a silver smile.

🎵 Don't get mad at me, boys, if your buggy don't ride like mine

I said, don’t get mad at me if your buggy don’t ride like mine

'Cause it's an easy-ridin' buggy, rarin' to go all the time* 🎵

Annie didn't recognize the song, nor the man. But she recognized the sound of that harmonica. The way he bent his notes felt familiar to her, like it was the soundtrack to something special.

The memory hit like a freight train.

Her and Smoke in the backyard after supper.

She barely heard, let alone remembered, anything from that night. Not besides the sound of Smoke’s voice. But she remembered that harmonica playing while they kissed slow under the moonlight.

She instantly got chills.

“That’s my time for today, my name is Delta Slim and I thank ya for listenin’.”

The whole room exploded with applause as Delta Slim slipped from the stage to the backroom. 

Annie watched him disappear down the hallway, then turned to Pearline.

She could tell she was only halfway present.

She tried to be cheerful while sipping her drink, but every time the shop bell rang her eyes would drift towards the entrance. Annie watched her out of the corner of her eye, wiping the corner of her mouth when a drop of ice cream landed on her chin. 

“I can’t go to the party,” Pearline admitted. 

“Why not?”

Pearline sighed. “My husband.” 

Annie’s lips pressed into a straight line. 

Pearline’s husband was an older man. Good bank job. Well-maintained house in a decent part of town. He was respected in the Black community of Coahoma County. 

He was protective over Pearline when it mattered. 

She found it sweet at first. Endearing. 

But that protection started to feel like a suffocating control.

And Pearline was starting to feel like a fish out of water. 

Annie shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. 

Pearline looked down, swirled her drink, and took another sip. 

“He's a good man, Annie,” she said, staring into her cup like that would make it true.

Annie felt skeptical but she was unwilling to push her friend into feeling uncomfortable.

“You happy?”

Pearline took a full minute to answer. 

“Yeah.” 

“Well,” Annie grabbed Pearline’s forearm, stroking her skin. “That’s what matters then...that you happy.”

Pearline gave her a weak smile.

A Few Nights Later — Moon Lake, Mississippi

Smoke and Stack stepped foot into the building, overhead lights so bright they had to blink so their eyes could adjust. It was something Smoke never got used to—the lights. He’d seen the Mississippi sun become a furnace in the sky— but this new, artificial shit? It was stronger. Blinding.

He didn’t like any of it. 

Stack was prepared. He always was when it came to his twin.

He handed Smoke a pair of American Optical aviators that they were fitted for during the war. They had smoked out dark lenses, a thin metal frame, and a double bridge that sat comfortably across his nose.

The twins walked through the casino like men on a mission. Smoke kept his hands in his pockets, but he still met eyes. A bootlegger on a craps table. Another man in a fancy pressed suit, elbows deep in a blackjack game to the right. 

They made their way to the side of the room, shoulders squared, eyes sharp, steps measured, cutting through a maze of fumes, lights, and laughter, until they were standing in front of the walkway that led to the private gaming salons. 

A narrow, low-lit corridor loomed in front of them. Dark green doors stretched down the hallway lined up like little soldiers. The walls were covered with patterned maroon wallpaper that looked like old blood dripping slowly from the panels. Smoke hovered overhead, suspended at the ceiling like a thick, tobacco-filled cloud. Floorboards groaned underneath heels and two-tone spectator shoes while furniture legs groaned under men all looking to play the long game with duffel bags full of cash.

Door 14. The Roulette Room.

Laughter slipped out the open door. 

The room was cozy but not small, decorated to feel expensive with its soft lamplight, burgundy wallpaper, velvet drapes and deep mahogany woodwork. 

A large roulette table flanked by carved wooden chairs with upholstered seats sat in the middle, the dealer leaning over the table with practiced focus. Framed paintings hung high above tall wooden panels, fireplaces, and wall sconces that divided the space. 

The room wasn’t full but wasn’t empty either. 

And most people present weren’t there to play. 

Not really.

Members of Clarksdale’s fraternal lodge were scattered around the room—Pythians with their ceremonial hats and others in regular suits. Smoking, fraternizing, throwing drinks back. Women in sequined dresses, strappy shoes, and pressed waves socialized among them.

Clay stood in the middle, leaning against a fireplace with two fingers of something dark in his hand. Maybe whiskey. Maybe brandy. A crystal glass decanter sat by his elbow. He swished his drink around, taking small sips while he listened to a man speak, voice low under the soft clatter of chips and murmured bets.

It was a white man. Rotund build. Dressed in a white single-breasted suit jacket and trousers, white shirt, and striped bowtie. He had a thick unibrow and mustache, and a hearty laugh that echoed off the walls but a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t look flashy; he looked comfortable. Too comfortable. 

And that was just from a distance. 

Smoke’s lip curled up instantly. 

Stack elbowed him in the arm when he saw the raw expression on his brother’s face. 

“Chill out, nigga.” 

Smoke grunted.

When Clay saw the twins across the room, he didn’t flinch. He just waved them over, setting his glass down on the mantle.

They split up like they always did when they first entered a space, Smoke rounding left, Stack circling right. 

It was part of their routine. A twin language developed from survival and war. 

They didn’t discuss it. They didn’t need to. 

They orbited the room. The movement looked casual, but they were quietly filing away every detail. Every glance meant suspicion, calculation, or warning. Nerves that had nothing to do with gambling. Shifty eyes. Hidden weapons. 

Smoke was the quicker draw of the two, and he always rolled deep. Two pistols. Bolo knife. Always tucked away but easily accessible.

Stack was slower to draw but had a way of disguising danger as charm before anybody realized it was danger. He kept a colt .45 and a brass knuckle knife hidden seamlessly in his clothing.

When they reached Clay, he already had two cigars cut for them. 

“Jim—” he said with a wide grin. “These the two gentlemen I was tellin’ you ‘bout earlier.” 

“Ah, the twins!” this Jim character said. 

He tapped ash from his own cigar on a lacquered tray and looked between Smoke and Stack who flanked him—one twin on each side.

“You fellas ever think about comin’ up North?” 

Stack answered. “We been up North.”

“Where to?”

“Harlem.”

“New York...What about Illinois? Arkansas?”

Smoke spoke up. “Arkansas ain’t up north.” 

“I know,” Jim replied.

“So why you askin’?” he asked flatly.

Jim shrugged. “Just curious.”

“Nah.” Smoke turned his head. “We don't go up North much.”

“But it depend on who askin’,” Stack added. 

Both twins looked at Jim.

Smoke with his head tilted downwards and his hooded eyes that could look up through a man and pierce his soul. 

Stack stood with his head tilted up so he was always looking down at someone, eyes twinkling, smirk wide, golds flashing.

Jim chuckled once, amused. At least on the surface. 

The ice in Stack’s cup tapped against the glass as it melted, sitting completely untouched in front of him. Smoke had already smoked his cigar down to the nub and sat with his elbows on his knees. 

Jim and his posse were long gone by now. 

Smoke, Stack, Clay and two of Clay’s men sat around a small round table that was polished to a shine that caught the lamplight in amber streaks. They talked routes, distribution, provisions, collections, hidden shipments, payoffs. 

Stack’s eyes sparkled every time someone mentioned Little Rock or Chicago. 

Smoke’s eyes held an unimpressed dullness even under the golden pools of lamplight.

Clay noticed, his eyes flicking between the two of them, subtly eyeing the difference in demeanor. 

“What you think?” Stack whispered to Smoke.

Smoke frowned then leaned over. “‘Bout what?”

“Big Jim.”

“I ain’t.”

Stack sucked his teeth loudly which earned a stare from Smoke.

Stack grumbled under his breath. 

“Shut up, nigga” Smoke gritted. 

“Just think about it,” Stack pushed. “Me. You. And Little Rock.”

Stack finally picked up his drink and took a swig. “You can bring Annie, too.”

Smoke just shook his head. Leaving Clarksdale was the last thing he was thinking about. 

The casino carried on in the background. Jazz, smoke, and the sweet-sharp smell of corn liquor spilled from the large double doors every time a patron stepped out. 

Smoke stood outside, the orange ember of his cigarette burning bright behind his palm. 

He didn’t come outside for quiet. The casino wasn’t quiet. Moon Lake never was. 

He stood at the dock and took a long drag of tobacco. It burned his chest. The cherry, spice, and the faint trace of lake humidity calmed the dull throb of a headache that sat behind his skull. 

“People done carved out every corner of Chicago. Whole lotta money there. But Arkansas….” 

Big Jim’s words echoed in his head. 

And Stack’s. 

He was always hyped about something. A scheme, a trick, a scam. 

And Smoke would always be caught up right along with him. 

But this one—

“Know a couple call houses in Little Rock need fixin’ up,” Big Jim said between puffs. 

A member of his posse, another white man with olive skin, a stocky build and a scar on his left cheek spoke up next.

“Bathhouse in Hot Springs. Y’all would do good up there, too.” He took a swig of his whiskey. “Real good.”

Smoke pushed the thoughts away before they could take root in his mind.

His thoughts turned to Annie instead.

To the confession she made.

The thought he filed away for later resurfaced while he looked out at the water. Night blanketed the cypress trees and the shores and the forest beyond it while the twinkling lights of the Moon Lake island helped soften its edges. 

Annie never shrank herself or made herself smaller for other people’s comfort. That’s one thing Smoke noticed the most about her. She was like him in that way. 

But something was different about the look on her face when she said those three words.

I ain’t never…

She looked vulnerable. Timid almost. 

His chest tightened at the thought. 

Something flickered in her eyes that night, just for a second before it disappeared. 

It wasn’t from the moonlight, from the candle on the windowsill, or from the oil lamp that hung above them on the shed.

It was deeper than that.

It was fear.

Fear of how he’d take it. Fear it would change his mind about her. 

He could see it in how she rushed to cling onto something. The loose thread on his shirt, something in the backyard. 

She showed him a part of herself. A part nobody else got to see. 

She gave that to him. 

And for just a second, she was scared of what he’d do with it.

Smoke’s jaw clenched.

He never wanted her to feel like that. He never wanted to be the reason she felt like that. Not again. 

Because that softness, the most tender part of her that she revealed to him in a whisper, barely a breath—that was his to protect now. 

Reeds danced with the current as it drifted downriver. The blades flitted across each other in the breeze, the low, whispery rustle felt gentle and soothing compared to the harsh sounds of the casino.

It felt like Annie.

Her scent arrived like a memory carried over water.

The lake carried the smell of some woman’s perfume. Smoke wouldn’t have noticed it, but the smell of lavender carried something sharper underneath that made his head snap around. 

Night-blooming jasmine. 

That sun-drenched, heady lushness that lingered on Annie’s wrists, behind her ears, and on her necklaces. 

That combined with the smell of something brackish made him feel like she was standing in front of him, those soft arms wrapped around his neck while his head tucked into her chest smelling like a midnight garden.

It cut through the harshness of the casino. The haze, the booze, the sweat. 

Moon Lake smelled like vice and pressure.

Annie was the opposite of all of that. 

While moonlight turned lake waters into glass, Smoke closed his eyes and made a decision.

Then another one.

He showed up at Della’s a few days later when the house had lulled into its afternoon pace.

“Got somewhere I wanna take you.” 

Those were the only words Smoke muttered before he whisked Annie out of the boarding house and into his truck. He wouldn’t tell Annie where they were going. All she knew was that they were heading north, the sun just starting its slow descent to the left of the road. 

The fields were empty this time of the year, of both people and cotton. The bare stalks stood tall and rigid like silent witnesses.

“I got a letter from my folks back home,” Annie said, looking out the window.

Smoke kept his eyes forward. “What they say?”

“Everybody doin’ good.”

“Good.”

Annie went on, talking Smoke up about her nieces and nephews, cousins, aunts and uncles. By the time she stopped to catch her breath, she was beaming with pride. Smoke listened to her talk with a lopsided grin of admiration. Then she started talking about her immediate family. Her mama. Her daddy. Her brothers. Her words got slower. Her breath hitched a few times like she was choosing her words carefully. 

Smoke noticed and started probing.

“Your mama a midwife, right? And your daddy—he work at the docks?”

“He a fisherman. You remembered.” She grinned and relaxed a little bit.

“How your brothers be?”

Annie tensed. “They good,” she said quickly.

“Hmm. And what they do?”

She rattled off five different occupations, but he knew she had six brothers. She told him. 

Annie was her parent’s seventh child.

He waited for her to fill in the blanks, but she didn’t. She just stared out the window like she was holding her breath.

“What was his name?” he asked.

Annie looked down at her hands. They were fidgeting again, playing with the hem of her clothing. She had on a tan-colored shirtwaist dress that complimented the rich brown color of her skin. It sat underneath a grey overcoat made from a light material. 

Mississippi weather was mild that day, a nice break from the cold front they experienced the past few weeks. 

Stockings and oxfords completed her look, and a cloche hat with a cream-colored ribbon was pinned onto her low bun.

The cab of the truck was silent for a while as the wheels rolled over loose gravel. But after a few more moments, Annie finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

“Uriah,” she said quietly. “His name was–is–Uriah.”

Smoke’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What happened to ‘em?”

“The war.”

“I’m sorry.”

Annie looked towards the road again. “Ain’t your fault.”

“Still.” He looked over at her briefly. “Y’all were close?”

“The closest.”

Smoke’s hand grabbed hers in her lap. She took a moment to rub the skin of his hands, his calloused palms warm around hers.

The road in front of them narrowed slightly. They crossed a bridge, the packed dirt turning into dusty brickwork as they traversed the water. 

The sun was beginning to wane, writing its farewell letter in shades of orange and purple as it disappeared behind the trees. 

On the other side of the bridge sat Moon Lake Island. 

A twenty-four-hour haven of whimsy, seduction, and leisure. Hanging lights glittered like fireflies, their bulbs blinking rapidly like they were dying out. That was on purpose.

It was just a bridge away from Lula, but it felt miles away—a sharp contrast to the cotton fields and the back of plantation houses that sat just across a small stretch of water. 

A supper club and casino stood like landmarks on the north island. The Blue Room was a pleasure palace that fronted as a place to enjoy oysters and prime cuts of steak at all hours of the night, and the Moon Lake Casino was its younger, slick-talking brother. 

The Black Elk Lodge was a hotel that stretched across the entire span of the southern island, wide and proud like the hand of a giant. Small lake front cabins scattered along the shore surrounding the courtyard hotel, a place where the whole world could go quiet.

Smoke cut the engine. He kept a hand on the small of her back, the other hand holding onto a covered basket as he guided Annie to the small private dock where he’d rented a rowboat from the lodge. He tugged the fraying rope that moored it to the shore, pulling it up so it sat halfway on the bank.

The inside was a tight fit, but dry. It was deep, lined with fragments of mismatched, aged wood where he set the basket of food in the middle of the two benches. Smoke helped Annie inside, unleashing the boat while he took the oars in his hand. 

His muscles moved beneath rolled sleeves while he rowed them away from the shore. He grunted under his breath as he stroked, moving his arms back and forth until their boat was dislodged from the thick mud on the shore. It glided smoothly into the water.

Annie’s thoughts were a tangled web. She smoothed her skirt down and crossed her legs, staring at the lake surrounding them to avert her eyes from the way his muscles clung to his shirt. A cool gust of wind swept over their boat drying the small bead of sweat that had started to form at her temple.

The lakefront cabins of The Black Elk Lodge lined the shore behind them. Small, wooden cabins with hanging lanterns, flower boxes on the porch, and warm orange light in the windows. 

Sounds from the island started to fade as they rowed into a thinner stretch of the lake. Ancient trees stood tall like ancestors along the shore. Spanish moss hung overhead like lace curtains, turning the sun into little slivers of bronze light that spotted the forest floor.

“Pretty out here,” Annie remarked quietly.

She trailed her fingers along the water. It rippled and separated under her touch into gentle waves that sloshed along the side of the boat.

“Yeah it is,” Smoke agreed. 

But he wasn’t talking about the lake. He was talking about her.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. 

The colors of dusk shimmered on the water catching the contours of Annie’s skin that looked lit from within. Her cheekbones, full lips, button nose, doe eyes. She unpinned her hat and released her bun once they got further from the shore. Her hair—dark, thick and coiled down her back—caught the light in deep blue streaks that shimmered against the jewel-toned sky. She looked ethereal. Sunset made her beads glow against her skin; the multi-colored necklaces sat tucked gracefully under the neckline of her dress.

“You gon’ burn a hole in me, Elijah,” Annie said, eyes trained on the rippling water around their boat.

Smoke smirked.

“Just thinkin’ about how pretty you look right now.”

Annie huffed a laugh. “Just right now?”

“Nah,” Smoke chuckled. “You always beautiful…but you glowin’ different right now.” 

“Why, thank you.”

Just then, the sun cut sharply, burning into her eyes. Her entire iris flooded with a deep bronze color just long enough for it to make Smoke blink twice. 

“What?” 

Smoke shook his head. “Nothin’.” But something about the evening sky and the water bleeding into each other had him feeling like he was seeing something that wasn’t really there.

“You hungry?” he asked.

Their picnic basket was lined with sheer fabric and made of handwoven old reed with a handle covered in spiral carvings. It carried a couple baloney sandwiches with mustard, mason jars with sweet tea, and a brown paper bag filled with boiled peanuts rolled in honey and brown sugar. 

“‘Could use somethin’ sweet.”

Smoke uncovered the basket. Annie removed the paper bag from it and inhaled its sugary scent. She reached in and popped a peanut in her mouth. “Want one?”

Smoke looked at her like she should already know that answer.

Annie smiled. “You know–I never thought someone like you would be a sweet tooth.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you walk around like you eat straight salt for dinner.”

Smoke sucked his teeth and looked away.

Annie laughed lightly. “You know it’s true.”

Smoke looked back at her. “It ain’t.”

“Here.”

She put a peanut in her hand, holding it up to his lips as he held onto the oars. It went in easily, his lips leaving moist heat on her fingertips that went through her body in waves. 

Smoke hummed at the salty, sweet taste. “Mmmm.” The echo of his voice vibrated deep in her body. “That’s good.”

“You like it?” Annie teased with a sultry voice.

Smoke raised a brow as he set the oars in the boat. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Smoke looked down at the peanut she had ready in her palm and leaned towards her anyways. He parted his mouth just enough. His lips touched her fingers again this time, his tongue licking through the opening of her fingertips as he took the candied peanut in his mouth. He licked his lips when he pulled back, eyes on her.

“Trouble.” 

“Me?” she snickered. She clutched her chest, taunting. “You the one tryna swallow my fingers.”

The air outside felt thicker over the water. The sky grew darker now, the brightness of the day dimming to something that looked like the glow of a low-burning oil lamp spread across the sky. Annie tossed the bag of peanuts back in the basket and screwed the cap off her mason jar of tea, taking a nervous sip.

“You come out here often?” she asked.

Smoke shrugged. “From time to time.”

“For what?”

Her eyes drifted to a pair of wood storks nested together along the bank. It was lined in reeds, soft mud, and the thick, tangled network of cypress roots that reached like fingers into the water. Annie thought it looked like the kind of place old spirits preferred. Somewhere quiet enough to listen and deep enough to hold secrets. Smoke favored that part too—the quiet, the shade, the way the trees swallowed noise and gave a man room to think.

“To quiet what won’t settle anywhere else.”

Annie turned to look at Smoke. This wasn't just a date.

“Thank you for showin' me this place,” she said. “Your place.”

She leaned in and he met her halfway.

The front room was dim. 

Not because he was trying to set the mood, but because he only had the patience to light two candles. The soft light brushed the walls, the flames coaxing shadows into a slow dance. Outside, the night breathed in low drones. An owl hooted somewhere—a deep, resonant sound that echoed through the trees. The wind fluttered through fallen leaves and whispered secrets through branches. But inside, the living room of Smoke and Stack's home held a calm, comfortable level of domesticity despite the hum of outdoors.

Smoke and Annie sat next to each other on the couch in Smoke’s house. Annie played a crossword puzzle from the Chicago Whip, stretched sideways across the couch with her feet in Smoke’s lap. Smoke had his hands on her feet as they went back and forth about the answers. 

“What’s a three-letter word for a four-legged animal with spots?”

“A cow,” Smoke said easily.

“No, that don’t fit my crossword.”

“What? Lemme see that…”

Smoke reached for the newspaper, but Annie moved it away from his grasp.

“It's a dog.”

“It could be a cat, too…since we just sayin’ shit.”

Annie swatted him with the newspaper.

“What was that for?”

“For bein' a smart ass.”

Annie set the newspaper down.

“Givin' up already?”

She shot him a look that could have cut through glass. “I’m tired.” She propped her head up with her hand.

Smoke started to push off the couch. “You ready to go back?”

“No,” her hand shot out, “not yet,” she said softer.

Smoke sat back.

Annie tugged on his arm, and he followed her pull as she brought him towards her. Slowly.

Not because he was scared.

He hadn’t been scared since he was a child.

But because he cared.

He laid down behind her, his front pressing against her back, and automatically wrapped an arm around her waist. His hold on her was tight, possessive. 

And Annie loved it.

She stroked his hand with her fingertips. It sat just above her bellybutton with a firm grip.

She melted into him.

He kissed the back of her shoulders first.

Light, delicate pecks that left warmth on her skin.

His lips moved to her neck and the kisses lingered longer, his arm tightening around her waist. He heard her gasps, her short panting breaths, and decided to keep going.

And Annie could feel everything. 

His kisses became closer together. 

Somehow, her hand lifted to the back of his head pulling him closer to her. 

She finally let out a word that wrecked him.

“Elijah,” she gasped.

Smoke chuckled, the sound forced a breath onto the delicate spot just behind her ear, and he heard something from her he never heard before.

A sharp, sudden intake of breath.

It was nothing like the noise she let out when he kissed her the other day. This one was quick, unexpected, new. It made her eyes widen.

It made her roll her hips once. The friction was there for a second and gone just as fast, but it pulled a low groan from him.

She laced their hands together and turned, just slightly. The movement pulled her under him.

Their faces met first.

They looked into each other’s eyes and rubbed noses. 

“Damn,” Smoke whispered. “You so beautiful.”

He leaned forward and their lips met gently. The kiss quickly turned passionate, their hunger urgent and palpable. Annie’s back pressed into Smoke’s front, and she could feel him behind her, hard and growing and right there.

Between the breaths and the pants and the tongues and the lips, he pulled back from her a second. Smoke looked down at her kiss-bruised lips and her blown pupils, and the want written all over her face.

They were so wrapped up in each other that he almost missed the sound of a car turning onto the dirt path that led to their home.

Almost.

But the soldier in him never knew a full night's rest.

Smoke’s head turned towards the door out of instinct. He listened carefully, then heard it clearly.

The rumble of an engine. 

Wheels erratically crunching over dirt.

Stack.

Smoke looked at Annie who had stilled under him, trying to figure out why he stopped.

“He's back.”

Annie paused for a second, then exhaled sharply and swung her legs over the side of the couch. She stood up slowly, smoothing the fabric of her dress along her hips as the adrenaline started to fade and annoyance started to set in. She walked over to the mirror to check her hair which had become a mass of crushed kinks, coils, and curls, and tried to tame it back into place even though she herself was completely undone.

Smoke sat on the couch, just staring at the floor.

He rubbed a hand down his face.

He couldn’t help but feel like Stack picked this very moment to come back—on purpose. He checked the Elgin watch on his wrist, 9:30pm. Stack never came in this early— not on the weekend anyway. 

Doors opened and closed in succession. Car door first. The snap of twigs and the crunch of polished shoes over solid earth next. Then the screen door creaked open and the bolt on the front door unlatched.

Stack walked in the house completely aware of what had just transpired, but he knew better. He was well versed in reading a room.

He noticed the way Smoke was sitting. Noticed how he was staring at the back of Annie who was fixing her hair in the mirror. He saw the pillows on the couch that look just as deflated as his brother.

He looked between them and his smirk spread slow and smug on his face. 

“Well good evenin’,” he announced, his voice cutting through their quiet tension.

Annie looked over from the other side of the room. “Evenin’,” she said warmly, putting the last of her pins in her hair.

Smoke didn’t respond. He pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed off the couch. 

“Annie,” he said to get her attention. She turned around as he stood up to grab his coat and car keys. “Let’s get to gettin’.”

Stack crossed the room and sat right on the couch. He got comfortable, putting an ankle on his knee before pulling a small notebook from his pocket.  “Leavin’ so soon?” 

He looked at Smoke, then Annie, then back to Smoke. 

“It’s gettin’ late,” Smoke grumbled. He grabbed Annie’s hand and held the door wide as she slipped underneath his arm. 

“Bye, Elias!” Annie said as she practically skipped to Smoke’s truck with Smoke’s gaze following right behind her. 

“Bye, Annie!” Stack yelled after her. “Bye, Elijah,” he said to Smoke in a slower, more teasing manner. 

Smoke rolled his eyes and grunted as he walked down the steps to his truck. He opened the door for Annie who hustled into the passenger seat. Smoke shut her door carefully then rounded the front to the driver’s side. Once he got in, he let the quiet sit for a second before adjusting himself in his seat.

Annie pretended she didn’t see it, but her face, half shadowed in darkness and the light from the front room of the cottage, betrayed her. She looked out the window smiling as the engine started with a rattle and sputter of the exhaust pipe. 

The drive back to Aunt Della’s boarding house was quiet. Moonlight flooded the cab of the truck, highlighting the contours of Smoke's face—his eyelashes, his lips, his mustache all bathed in a pale, lunar glow. His hand rested on her thigh, holding firmly onto the supple flesh. Annie traced along the veins of his hand with her fingertips before laying her palm on top of his.

“I had a good time tonight,” she said after about a mile of silence.

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I did.”

“Good,” he said quietly. 

The stars sprinkled tiny silver blessings above them as they made their way to the boarding house, the occasional animal darting in the road, drawn like a moth to a flame to his headlights. Smoke and Annie laced their fingers together as the road to town stretched in front of them. 

-

-

*Song by Bud Spires

Note: Sorry this took so long to post. I was lowkey scared. 😂 But on another note— The Harvest Party is coming up next!

When Thanksgiving morning came, Annie slipped from the bed and got dressed as quiet as possible. It was incredibly early and it was still dark except for the faint morning light that was creeping through the windows.

Elijah was dead asleep on the couch with one arm thrown over his head as his chest rose and fell steadily. Annie smiled at the sight, walked over, and pulled the blanket up high on him. He stirred a bit, but didn't wake.

She went to the kitchen, and as quickly as possible, she scribbled a note to Elijah letting him know that she left for the day. After that she quickly started gathering the pies, not realizing that in her rush she had miscounted. She grabbed four of the pies and hurried out the door.

She stepped outside and a few minutes later she was driving through Baltimore. It didn't take long for her to pull up back home. She grabbed the pies from the backseat and headed inside. The door opened and the smell of greens and ham hit her in the face. 

Annie followed the smell to the kitchen where she found her grandmother, Aunt Clarisse, Rosette, and Olivia. Clarisse was the first to say something to her the moment she noticed her niece standing in the doorway.

"Look at who decided to come back home."

"Goodmorning," Annie laughed as she set the pies down on the table.

"Mornin', baby," her grandmother said from her place by the stove.

Little baby Olivia let out an excited squeal at the sight of Annie. She was practically bouncing from her spot on her blanket on the floor. Annie melted. She crouched down and kissed Olivia's chubby cheek.

Annie straightened and looked around the busy kitchen.

"What y'all doin'? Need help?"

"No. Your cousin done already messed up the greens," Clarisse shook her head. 

"I didn't mess up no damn—" Rosette started muttering under her breath. But before she could finish Mama Nette popped her with a kitchen towel. 

"Watch your mouth."

"What I get hit for? I'm too old for that," Rosette rubbed her arm. "And why Annie never get hit?"

"'Cause Annie listens," Mama Nette snorted.

"I listen," Rosette looked offended.

"No you don't."

"I do."

Clarisse and Mama Nette exchanged a look.

"Yeah right, Annie mess up all the time, but y'all don't ever get mad at her," Rosette rolled her eyes.

"Annie ain't never messed up nothin' I taught her," Mama Nette looked genuinely confused by the statement. "That's why she the only one that know all my pie receipes."

A smug smile spread across Annie's face as she bent down and scooped Olivia into her arms. The baby immediately settled against her chest. Annie kissed the top of her little head.

"Can't help that I'm the favorite."

Rosette narrowed her eyes at her, but Annie just looked with that same smug smile as she bounced Olivia gently.

"Shut up."

"Don't be jealous, Rosie," Annie laughed.

"You lucky you holdin' my baby."

The room erupted into laughter. Even Olivia giggled though she didn't understand any of it.

When they settled, Clarisse looked over at Annie, giving her a pointed look, "You not gettin' outta where you was at, Miss Thing."

"She was over at that man's house."

Annie stared at her grandmother in disbelief. The older woman kept right on stirring.

Clarisse slowly nodded as she looked at Annie, "Hm. You been shackin' up?"

Before Annie could even answer, Mama Nette spoke again.

"No," Annie sighed in relief, but then her grandmother continued. "But she want to."

The relief disappeared. Annie sat there feeling completely betrayed.

"I don't know why you keep doin' this to me." Annie sputtered. "There ain't no reason for you to tell everybody my business."

"You ain't got no business," Mama Nette finally looked over. "You wasn't doin' nothin' remember?"

Rosette looked entirely too entertained at Annie getting clipped by their grandmother.

Annie opened her mouth then closed it becasue she truly had nothing to say to defend herself.

"She gonna have to repent extra hard this Sunday for all this lyin' she been doin' recently," Mama Nette shook her head. "That man be having her all twisted up and she know she like it."

Annie rolled her eyes dramatically then she buried her face against Olivia's little shoulder. Olivia just patted Annie's cheek.

A few hours later the cooking was finally almost done. Most of the food was finished and packed up. 

Annie stood in the dining room helping wrap a few things while Olivia sat on her hip chewing on the sleeve of her dress. The baby had spent most of the morning attached to her. Any time somebody tried to take her, Olivia would fuss until Annie got her back.

Mama Nette was doing one final count, making sure that they had everything they needed. When she got to the pies and noticed that there were only four she eyed Annie. 

"Annette, why you only got four pies here?" 

Annie looked at the table only to see that her grandmother was right. There were only four pies on the table. Her eyes immediately became wider. 

Rosette's face had a smirk on it, "Looks like the favorite messed up just that quick."

"Where they at and are they done?" Mama Nette folded her arms.

"Yes they're done Mama. I just forgot 'em," then she rushed over to the phone.

She dialed Elijah's number. The phone rang three times before Elijah answered.

"Hello?"

"Oh good. You're up," Annie sighed in relief.

"Bunny, I been up," His sleepy chuckle came through the line. "Why you callin'?"

"I forgot two of the pies. Can you bring them? They should still be on the counter."

"Yeah, I got you."

"Thank you, baby."

"It ain't nothing."

"I'll see you soon."

"See you soon."

After hanging up, Annie helped her family load everything up into the cars. Once everything was put up, the two cars hit the road to Ray's house. 

There were a line of cars on the street when they pulled up. The front door opened and family members poured out to help take the dishes inside. 

Inside the home Ray had moved everyhting around to make space for everyone. He had put some tables together to make one large table in the middle of the living room. There was also a smaller table for the children and room for the food. 

The house was loud with conversation and children playing. Food was already on the table and what they brought only added to it. Everything was just what Annie missed about home. Good food and family. The only thing she felt was missing was Elijah. 

Suddenly, Victoria appeared beside her.

"So when he gettin' here?"

"Soon," Annie rolled her eyes, an unintentional habit.

A while later, Annie found herself standing near the window peeking out of it every few seconds. Five-year-old Joyce had attached herself to Annie's legs asking her a million questions. It distracted her enough to not look out the window every five minutes. It wasn't like she was waiting on anyone.

But when a knock hit the door, Annie pulled away from the little girl, giving some random excuse. She hurried to the door, pulled it open, and there Elijah stood with the two forgotten pies in his hand. 

He was dressed nice in black slacks, a black button down shirt, and a dark blue wool coat. He even had on polished hard bottom shoes. His look made Annie smile. And it wasn't because he never made the effort to look nice, but Annie knows that Elijah could care less about how he looked. But clearly he had decided to put a little extra effort in today.

Elijah looked into her big, soft, brown eyes and felt the hint of nervousness in him disappear.

"Hey, Bunny," Elijah smiled.

"Hi, baby," she said sweetly.

They leaned into each other so naturally. Their lips met in a gentle kiss. And once they pulled apart Annie was smiling. She was so utterly happy.

"Thank you again for bringing the pies."

"You're welcome."

She looked at him for another second. Then leaned forward and kissed him again. This one lasted a touch longer.

She pulled back and grabbed his hand, "Come on let's get you inside."

She led him inside and the warmth of the family atmosphere surrounded him. The house was loud with conversation that floated from every direction. Laughter was mixed in along with the sounds of children running and playing. 

Annie kept hold of his hand as she guided him through the house of people. She could tell that her family was looking, but trying to hold in their comments. They walked until they got to the food table.

"Put them right there," he set the strawberry pies down where she told him.

Annie noticed the way Elijah looked around at everyone. She knew how overwhelming her family could be, and for someone like Elijah she knew it could be a bit much. She squeezed his hand to get his attention.

"If it get too much, you tell me."

"I'll be alright," Elijah looked at her, his face not showing any signs of overstimulation.

"You sure?"

"Mhm."

She studied him for another second then nodded.

Unfortunately she never got the chance to start introducing him around.

"Elijah come here," Mama Nette's voice carried easily through the house. "And Annie go help your uncles with the kids in the kitchen."

Both of them looked over to see the older woman sitting comfortably in a chair in the den.

"Mama—"

"Gone on."

Annie huffed as she stared into the older woman's eyes. And Mama Nette stared right back. Neither woman looked away. 

Elijah tugged at Annie's hand, "It's okay, Bunny."

"Fine," Annie looked uncertain, but she sighed. "But I'll be back."

She squeezed his hand one last time before disappearing toward the kitchen.

Elijah watched her go then looked at the older woman who was waiting on him. Mama Nette gestured to the empty chair near her as a way to tell him to sit down. And he obeyed, not wanting to go against her. 

The second he sat down he understood why Annie was hesitant to leave him. There were four women and a baby staring at him. They were staring so intensely as if they were trying to see straight through his skin to his bones. He sat back in the chair and gulped.

Mama Nette noticed and the corner of her mouth twitched. She knew Elijah was a strong man, but the Richard women could could break down even the toughest of soldiers. 

"Let me introduce everybody to you since they just wanna stare at like you a zoo animal," Mama Nette pointed around the circle. "That's Clarisse, Annie's Aunt. Annie's cousin, Rosette and Rosette's daughter, Olivia. That's Esther, William Junior's wife. And Victoria, my oldest granddaughter."

They all still just stared at him not making any moves to say a thing to him.

"Now go on and introduce yourself," Mama Nette folded her hands in her lap.

Elijah cleared his throat. Suddenly he felt like a boy instead of a twenty-seven year old man.

"Nice to meet y'all. My name's Elijah Moore," the words managed to come out easy.

"And that's your real name?" Victoria tilted her head.

"Last time I checked," Elijah looked over at her.

Mama Nette chuckled at Elijah's audacity. She could tell he wasn't a man to back down easily. And she figured he had to be to deal with Annie.

"Oh, you tryna be Mister Funny Man?" Victoria's eyebrows furrowed, completely taken aback.

"Ain't nothin' funny to me," his answer came quick.

"Good. 'Cause ain't nothin' attractive 'bout a man who can't take nothin' serious."

"I'm takin' this very serious."

That earned him a few approving nods.

"Where you from?" Rosette asked as she balanced Olivia in her lap.

"Clarksdale, Mississippi."

"So you a Delta man?" 

"Yes ma'am."

"Do you know where we from?" Clarisse asked.

"Yes ma'am," Elijah rubbed his sweating and slightly shaking palms against his thighs. Something about the intensity of these women was making his anxiety act up.

"You ever been there before?"

"A few times."

"So that means you know what we capable of?"

"I think so," Elijah didn't quite know what Annie's Aunt meant by that, but he remembered the conversation he had with Mama Nette. He didn't think he wanted to get on the bad side of a bunch of Hoodoo women.

"What you do for work?" Victoria asked.

"I work at Ray's garage."

"That what you really wanna do?" Clarisse asked.

The question made Elijah pause becasue nobody had really asked him that before. At least not recently. Usually people asked what he did, but not if that was what he really wanted to do. He looked down for a second before answering as honestly as he could.

"I don't rightly know. I guess I ain't figured out exactly what I want yet. I know I'm good with my hands, so it works out," he shrugged.

"I bet you are," Rosette smirked as her eyes dropped down to his hands.

Elijah cleared his throat and shifted in his seat at her staring. For a half a second he considered hiding them, but then he realized foing that would probably make it worse..

"Got good workin' hands too," Rosette's smirk just deepened.

"Rosette," Clarisse said in warning.

"Sorry, Mama."

The women laughed as Elijah rubbed the back of his neck.

Thankfully, Esther moved the conversation along.

"How long you been in Baltimore?"

"Since April."

"Ain't been here that long and you already got your eyes set on my niece," Clarisse said.

Before he could answer, Victoria spoke.

"How long you plannin' on stayin' in Baltimore?"

"I—"

"Everything okay?" A familiar voice cut through the conversation.

Everybody turned to see Annie standing next to Elijah's chair. She walked up and rested a hand on his shoulder. She looked from the women to Elijah with concern written all over her face. 

"Girl ain't nobody doin' nothin' to this man. He alright," Mama Nette as she turned in her chair. "Go back to the kitchen."

"You okay?" Annie ignored the woman and looked at Elijah.

"I'm alright, Bunny," Elijah lightly grabbed her hand and nodded his head.

She still looked suspicious.

Mama Nette waved her hand, "Take your ass back on in there."

"If we was gon' hurt him we'd already done it," her Aunt Clarisse said.

Annie huffed dramatically, but she listened. Reluctantly she started walking away. But in the process she let her hand slide from Elijah's shoulder then down his arm. Elijah caught the hand before she could fully walk away.

The women all watched as Elijah lifted it and pressed a kiss to the back of it. He did it as if it was second nature. It was the type of affection that made Annie smile when she finally walked away.

He turned beack to see all eyes were on him again. 

"What exactly you want with my cousin?" Rosette tilted her head.

Elijah eyes moved between the women, wanting them to understand how serious he was about their Annie.

"I want everything with her."

The women exchanged glances.

Nobody laughed.

Nobody teased.

"Saying everything is a might big statement. You know that?" One of Clarisse's eyebrows rose in question. 

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you know what all that means when it come to Annie? She ain't no simple woman," Clarisse studied him carefully.

"Yes ma'am I do," Elijah confidently nodded. He already knew first hand how difficult Annie could be, but some would say he was just as bad.

"What about her makes you want her so bad?" Victoria asked.

Elijah took a moment to get his thoughts together, and not because he didn't know, but because he wanted to say it right.

"Truthfully, she saved and she don't even know it. When I got back from overseas I wasn't doing well. There were days I'd wake up angry, couldn't sleep, and didn't want to be around nobody. And you wouldn't know it by looking at me. But when I found her, she lit up something in me. It was like she planted herself in my blood and I ain't have a bad day since," his voice was calm as he spoke.

"I don't want nothin' temporary with her. She don't deserve that. She's the woman I wanna wake up beside every mornin'. I wanna take care of her . I wanna spend the rest of my life fmy life hearin' her talk because she can just go on about stuff she gets excited about. And I always want her excited about something. It's my job to keep her happy and that's what I plan to do."

"I love how she takes care of people whether they ask for it or not. She remembers everything and she loves her family. She always has enough love for everybody. I love how determined she is. She works hard and she has dreams and goals. Hell, I even love how stubborn she is," that makes everyone laugh.

Mama Nette takes a moment to just stare at Elijah. She'd never heard him talk this much. He seemed like a man that didn't say more than he had to. But it looks like that when it comes to her granddaughter, he had a whole lot to say and he needed to say it. That man loved Annie and it was written all over him.

"Ain't never heard anybody talk about her like that before. You must really love her?" Esther asked.

"I'm in love with her," Elijah's answer came out so quick as he looked at her. 

Nobody said anything because there wasn't really anything to say. The sincerity in his voice was impossible to miss, and they could feel the love practically floating off of him.

"Annie," Mama Nette's voice floated thorughout the house, and within seconds, hurried footsteps were heard.

Annie appeared looking rather worried. She looked at Elijah, but he showed no signs that there was anything to be worried about. So, she turned her eyes to her grandmother.

"Yes, Mama?"

"Everything ready?"

"…Yes?" Annie blinked confused.

"Everybody let's go on to the table."

Everyone in the house started making their way to the living room. Even Annie, who was still trying to figure out what happened. Elijah followed beside her not giving anything away.

Certain foods had been moved from the food table to the table. Everyone gathered around the white tablecloth covered table. Mama Nette took her place at the head of the table and reached for the hands beside her.

"Everybody close ya eyes and bow ya heads," almost everyone obeyed even the small children.

Elijah was the only one still looking around at the full circle.

Annie briefly opened her eyes to see Elijah with his wide open. She tugged his hand that was in hers.

"Close your eyes."

He closed his eyes and lowered his head just before Mama Nette started praying. As soon as she finished everyone said Amen and let their hands go. They moved to find their seats and the children scrambled to their table.

Elijah automatically reached for Annie's chair and pulled it out. Then he waited until she sat to push it in. She smiled up at him.

"Thank you, baby."

He nodded as he took the seat beside her. And as soon as he settled in his seat he had the feeling of being watched. He looked up to see Ray, Marcus, and an older man looking at him from way down at the other end of the table.

Annie lightly tapped Elijah's arm, pulling him away from the three men's stares. He gave his attention to Annie. She was holding the plate that was in his spot in her hand.

"What you want on you plate?" she asked.

"Whatever you think," Elijah glanced over the spread.

Annie rolled her eyes, but did as told. She scooped some mac and cheese, greens, candied yams, and dressing on his plate. Then she got up to put some meat on the plate for him. She knew that she didn't have to do this because Elijah was perfectly fine doing things for himself, but she felt with all this pressure from her family she would ease his mind a little today.

She sat back down and set Elijah's plate down in front of him. He thanked her and she went to grab her own plate to start putting her food together.

"Annette."

Annie looked up to see her Uncle William staring at him from the other end of the table. 

"Yes, sir?"

"How long you been with him?"

Annie's eyes flickered to Elijah before returning to her uncle. William hadn't even verbally acknowledged and now he was talking as if the man wasn't sitting at the table next to her.

"We been together a few months now."

"A few months. Ain't that somethin'," William hummed as he stabbed a piece of turkey with his fork. "Must be serious if you lettin' him come to Thanksgiving."

"Yes sir. If you say so," Annie knew how her oldest uncle could get.

"Since you bringing him to Thanksgiving, I'd say so."

Several people around the table exchanged glances. Across the table Uncle Ray was trying not to grin.

"Ray," William looked at his younger brother.

"Yeah brother?" Ray looked up from his food.

"How long he been working at your shop?"

"Since April," a smirk appeared on Ray's face.

"And how'd he get that job?"

Ray looked at Elijah then back to William, "Annie mostly."

Annie breathed out in frustration. She could feel the irritation rolling off of Elijah and she knew if this kept going he would be in his right to say something.

"Uncle Ray, you know that's not true."

"And is," he shrugged. "You always tryna save somebody."

"Girl woulda brought home a stray dog if Mama let her. Guess she kept up the habit."

Annie's face showed clear irritation as she dropped her fork down.

"Okay, y'all gone stop talking about him like he ain't sittin' right here. He's a good man and comparin' him to a stray dog is disrespectful. I know y'all tryna look out for me, but I don't like how y'all going about it. You can't say you protectin' me 'cause this ain't it. These things y'all sayin' is hurtful. Get to know him before y'all try to make assumptions about him," Annie looked between both of her uncles.

"That's right," Mama Nette muttered. Her sons could be a real piece of work at times.

William sighed and Ray looked down at his plate. Neither man liked being corrected by their niece like that, especially in front of the whole family. But neither one would go against her either.

"Ain't mean no disrespect," her Uncle William looked genuinely pained by the admission.

"Me neither," Ray said right after.

This was the closest thing to an apology that Elijah had ever heard from Ray's mouth, but he didn't care too much about that when he was irritated by the older man. He face was stone cold as he stared at the two men. One of the things he wouldn't ever take was disrespect from two grown men, or at least two supposed grown men.

"I understand that y'all protectin' her and all but anything anybody wanna know about me can be asked directly to me. I'm an honest man and ain't one to just sit and pussyfoot around, but y'all makin' it real hard to act civil. I'm a grown man not a dog."

Then, before anybody could say anything else a loud crash echoed from the children's table. Little Jeremy was staring at the floor in horror while a glass of sweet tea spread across the table and dripped into his lap.

The interruption only lasted a few minutes before everybody settled back into eating. Towels had been brought out and Jeremy had been reassured that nobody was upset with him.

Elijah had managed to avoid being the center of attention again. At least until Mama Nette spoke up from her seat. She had been watching him for most of the meal anyway.

"Elijah, you likin' the food?"

"Yes ma'am. Ain't had food like this in a long time," he glanced down at the crowded plate in front of him.

"Why you ain't?" Victoria looked up from where she was helping Joyce cut her ham into smaller pieces.

"I was overseas for a few years. And before that me and my brother was movin' around so much we couldn't really get no good homecooked food like this."

"You was in the military?" William Jr. asked.

"Since fifty-four."

"You Army?" William Sr. set his fork down.

"Yes sir," Elijah kept his face stone cold.

William nodded thoughtfully. Then he took a sip of sweet tea before asking the next question.

"You hunt?"

Annie looked at her uncle and so did some of the other men at the table.

"Only done it once or twice."

"Mississippi boy only hunted twice?" William raised an eyebrow.

"Yes sir. My daddy wasn't teaching us much of nothing."

"Fair enough," William slowly nodded seeming to understand there was more to that story. "If you shoot good you'll be alright. But we'll see 'bout that."

Elijah looked on confused. And he was about to ask what exactly the man meant by that, but the conversation moved on. The entire focus of the table shifted away from the topic completely. When he looked over at Annie she seemed to be just as confused as he was. But her confusion had some understanding to it.

"Bunny, what he said that for?"

Annie cleared her throat and looked at Elijah, "I think he just invited you to go huntin' with them."

"Why he do that? Seem like he don't like me."

"He only invites the men he respects to hunt with him."

The dining table had been cleared. Leftovers had been wrapped and stacked. Somebody had put the radio on. And the card table was out. The children went back to running through the house despite being told at least fifteen times not to.

Annie sat tucked away in the den with Olivia in her lap. The baby had screamed for her the last ten minutes of dinner, so Annie had no choice but to grab her. And the girl was finally in her arms, she refused to leave. 

The baby was currently fight sleep with everything she had. Her tiny eyes kept falling closed before snapping back open every time her head started to fall. 

"You so tired, huh?" Annie chuckled softly as Olivia blinked up at her. 

The baby just shoved two small fingers into her mouth as an answer. A string of drool followed soon after. Annie grabbed a cloth from beside and wiped the baby's chin. Olivia curled herself against Annie's chest, her other hand fisted the woman's dress.

That was when Elijah appeared beside the couch. He had just gotten out of a conversation about cars that he got roped into by Annie's cousins, Percy and Johnathon. Now he looked relieved to have found Annie again.

He sat down beside her. His eyes moved from her face down to the baby attached to her. Olivia had somehow managed to wedge herself directly into Annie's side.

Annie followed his gaze, "What?"

"Nothin'."

It wasn't nothing because Elijah couldn't stop staring. Annie looked so natural holding a baby, even if the baby was family. It was like every move of hers was instinctive. He had noticed since the dinner table. 

And it wasn't just the baby that Annie seemed to shine with. The older children were just as attached. They followed her from room to room, calling for her, wanting her attention. And every single time she'd stop what she was doing and answer them.

The sight of it all made he aware of his thoughts. He found himself wondering what Annie would look like with their children. What their babies would look like. He hoped they would have her pretty brown eyes, and her smile, and her laugh.

"What you thinkin' so hard about?"

"Hm?" Elijah came back to reality, blinking the thoughts away. 

Annie shook her head and let out a little puff of a laugh. She had noticed the way Elijah had looked at Olivia and wanted to test some waters.

"You wanna hold her?"

His eyebrows immediately lifted, "I don't know about that, Bunny."

"And why not?" Annie laughed.

"I ain't never really held a baby before," he looked at the baby.

"Seriously?" Annie stared at him.

Elijah nodded.

"Well that's a shame."

He looked down at Olivia and she looked back at him.

"I think you'll be fine. Olivia's easy."

"I don't know."

"Elijah."

He sighed, but she was already moving the baby. And when Olivia noticed she was getting moved out of the comfort of her arms, she made a sound of protest. Her tiny face scrunched up as if she was about to start crying. Annie shushed her as she bounced her lightly in the air.

"Oh hush. You're alright,"

Olivia clearly disagreed. Still, Annie carefully transferred her into Elijah's lap. The second the baby settled there, Elijah completely froze up. His hands hovered around her awkwardly unsure where they were supposed to go.

"Baby, don't look so scared," Annie tried so hard to hold her laughter in.

"I ain't scared," he shot her a look. "What if she fall though?"

"She ain't gone fall, just put your arm around her."

Reluctantly he wrapped one arm around Olivia.

The baby stared up at him. And after several seconds, Olivia decided she was okay with being around this strange man. She yawned and reached out to grab the front of his shirt. She pulled herself up a bit on her legs and laid down on his chest. The other tiny hand that wasn't gripping his shirt, reached around to his arm and softly started patting it.

Annie practically melted at the sight. But when she noticed Elijah's confusion on the movement she spoke up.

"She wants you to pat her back." 

Elijah nodded his head in understanding and hesitantly started to pat the baby's back as gently as he could. It didn't take long for her eyes to start closing and soon enough she was asleep.

Annie watched the sight quietly, not able to look away. He was being so careful handling something so small and precious. He looked so sweet with her. It truly made Annie wonder how he would be with their kids. Maybe she wouldn't have to wait too long to find out, if they could—

"Auntie Annie!" She looked up to see the children standing in front of her. "Come play with us!"

"What y'all playing?"

"Hide and seek!"

The children immediately started pulling on her arms to make her stand up. She did and was suddenly being dragged away.

Christmas Night, 1958

Inside Elijah's apartment, the lamps cast a warm glow across the living room. The Christmas tree stood in the corner near the window. It wasn't a big tree like the one Annie has at home, but it was good enough for the both of them. They had picked it out a few weeks earlier after Annie said that he couldn't do Christmas right with no tree.

They were currently sitting on the couch, practically under each other. Annie was curled into his side and Elijah had an arm on the back of the couch behind her. They'd spent most of the evening talking about the day, like how Ray had actually gotten Elijah a gift. And now, with the day being settled, Elijah thought it was time for them to give their gifts to each other.

Annie sat up straight, excited for whatever Elijah was going to give her. Elijah reached on the table and grabbed the box. He put it in her hands and she carefully began to open.

Elijah sat back and watched as her fingers worked the ribbon loose. The anticipation on her face alone made everything worth it.

She pulled the paper away and was met with the same coat she'd been stopping to look at every single time they went to the department store downtown. It was a beautiful cream-colored wool coat that cost far too much.

"You bought me the coat?" Annie asked as she lifted it out of the box.

"You kept lookin' at it, so I figured you wanted it but wouldn't buy it for yourself since it was so expensive."

She pouted, willing herself not to be too emotional.

Then she noticed there was a small box inside. She pulled it out and noticed the way Elijah looked away from her. He had suddenly become very interested in the Christmas tree.

"What's this?"

Elijah didn't respond, just nodded to the box. So she opened it.

Inside sat a simple yet elegant gold bypass ring with two small diamonds.

"Elijah," his name came out barely above a whisper.

"It ain't an engagement ring…yet," he rubbed the back of his neck. "I just wanted yo uto have it."

"Why would you spend this much money on me?" She shook her head.

"Who else I'm supposed to spend it on?" He made a confused face as if she asked the dumbest question in the world. "I wanna take care of you, Bunny. And you need to let me without askin' about how much it cost all the time. That ain't your problem, okay?"

The tone of his voice made her body get warm. Instead of verbally answering him, she just nodded her head in fear that if she did say something it would be something that neither one expected.

Eventually she slid the ring onto her ring finger on her right hand and it was a perfect fit. But of course it was. He probably had sneakily gotten her ring size months ago.

She stared at it for several seconds before giving the kind of smile tha treached her eyes. Then she looked at him with twinkling eyes.

"I got your gift too. It's in the car 'cause I can't bring it up by myself. It's heavy."

"What'd you buy me, woman?" He raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"You gotta go get it."

A few minutes later they were outside in the cold. Annie stood beside him in her new coat while he opened her trunk. Inside was a large gift box. 

He carried it back into the apartment upstairs and set it down beside the couch.

Annie sat down on the couch and sighed as she looked at the box.

"I got this because Mama told me you didn't know what you really wanted to do, but you like workin' with your hands and fixin' things. So I'd figured you'd like this."

Elijah opened the lid to see a professional mechanic's toolkit. And it wasn't one of the cheap sets either. It was a Proto set. He ran his fingers over the polished metal while she looked on nervously.

"I picked it out myself. I did have to ask around a little for help, but I think I got the right stuff."

"You did just fine, Bunny. I really like it."

"You do?" Relief immediately washed over her face.

"Yeah."

He laughed softly the reached over and pulled her into his lap. Annie squealed at the movement. Elijah pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, baby."

He smiled and gave her a sweet kiss on the lips. When they pulled away Annie stared into his eyes.

"I checked your mail earlier and saw that you got a letter from your brother."

She slid off his lap, walked to the small table in the corner, and grabbed the envelope. She returned back to her spot in his lap.

"You wanna read it?"

"Don't matter," Elijah shrugged.

But Annie knew him well enough by now to know he wanted to hear it.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Carefully, she opened the envelope and pulled out several folded sheets of paper. She dramtically cleared her throat and began reading out loud.

Most of the first page was Stack just talking about anything like the people he'd met and the random arguments he'd gotten into. Though Annie had never met Stack before, she found herself smiling because it felt like she was getting a picture of him through his words. He was clearly different than Elijah. He seemed loud and reckless, but funny and charismatic.

When she got to the next page, she started reading about all the women he'd been with. She slightly lowered the paper and looked at Elijah.

"You got something to say?"

"Nope."

"You judging my brother?"

"I'm not, just seeing if this how you was."

Elijah sucked his teeth, "Woman you know me well enough to know that ain't what I do."

The next page shifted into stories about his gambling ventures and how shook several men for money. He'd become so invested in it, but it seemed to be working out for him.

"I don't think I like your twin too much," Annie shook her head.

"He's fine, just gotta let him settle in and you'll get used to him."

"Don't think I would."

"You would."

She continued reading despite her protests. Halfway through the next page she instinctively took to reading it in her head, but Elijah tried to peek at the words forcing her to go to reading it out loud again.

"How that dream girl doing? You ain't said much beside 'she's real'. If she's so real then tell me something about her. What's her name? What she do? What's she like? If she's worth writing about then you write about her. If she ain't, stop talking about her."

Annie's eyes slowly lifted. Elijah was avoiding looking directly at her, which told her everything.

She finished the rest of the letter which was mostly Stack asking questions about Baltimore and whether Elijah planned on staying there permanently, and work. Then the letter ended.

"Have you been writing about me?" Annie carefully folded the papers together.Elijah finally met her eyes.

"'Course I have. That's my twin. He know everything about me and I know everything about him. This the longest we been apart, and I had to tell him about the woman that's changed my life," the answer came easy for him.

"Can't believe you lasted this long away from him."

"I spent my whole life taking care of him. And I'd do it again. But if being apart from him now meant finding you, then I'd make that trade every time. I love you, Bunny and he should know that."

The emotion hit Annie hard. Her eyes watered as she leaned down a bit to kiss him. When she pulled back, she stayed close enough that their foreheads almost touched. Her eyes searched his and whatever she found there made her smile.

"I love you too."

Annie laughed softly at his expression.

"I'm in love with you."

His eyes lit up and the smile that spread across his face was the most brightest and boyish smile she'd ever seen him have. It was the smile he rarely showed anybody else, besides maybe Stack. Annie realized she'd never seen Elijah look happier than he did right then.

After that rather unfortunate event, Smoke’s girl decided it would be best if they didn’t try that again. The pair had attempted to make it up to her, and while she was elated to have Smoke and Annie making her body scream while her feet touched the headboard, it wasn’t enough for the lingering thoughts and memories and doubts to subside.

Smoke sat up in bed.

It was late as hell, and his girl was sleeping peacefully beside him, but his mind couldn’t rest. He was stuck thinking about Annie and wondering what she was doing—if she was up thinking about him, too. Since his girl had put an end to things, he hadn’t had much of a chance to see Annie. She’d come over to hang out or pick his girl up for a trip to the mall, but he kept his distance as best he could. Annie was addictive; Annie was everything he thought of now, and he knew it wasn’t right. His girl didn’t deserve to be treated that way, but when his mind would drift back to Annie, he couldn’t care any less about her feelings.

Huffing silently into the still night air, the man’s back hit the headboard before he reached to retrieve his phone from the nightstand. Beside him, his girl was curled up in the sheets, and when she sensed his movements, she groaned, touching his leg in a need for closeness. It always amused him how much she wanted him even in sleep, but he was on a mission, so stilling his body, he went to work.

His phone illuminated the ceiling. It shined over his face—stoic as always—and it took him no time at all to find Annie’s contact. She had put it in his phone that day when his girl had gone to the bathroom. In the time that she’d been away from them, Annie had added her number, texted herself, deleted the message, and made him a promise to figure this out while kissing the edge of his mouth. All he could do in that moment was listen, nod his head, and kiss her full and on the lips.

But neither of them had reached out.

Neither of them had the courage.

Smoke swore he was waiting for the right time, and Annie was waiting for him to make the first move. Anxiety causing his fingers to tremble, Smoke was beginning to think he’d get no better time than the present.

You up?

The first text was simple. He was a man of few words, a man who didn’t beat around the bush too often. His stomach thumped in anticipation and regret, but when three dots rose in the bottom left corner, his nostrils flared.

i am thought you’d never text me

You got my number, too. You coulda made the first move

you don’t know who you talkin to, do you? i don’t make the first move. i don’t chase no man or woman. they chase me

So you consider this me chasin you?

it is one in the morning, smokey. what else you doin if you ain’t tryna get into some mess?

His jaw clenched at the nickname, at how easily she had read him, but all it really did was stoke the flames and make him want her more. He looked down at the woman clinging to his legs. His eyes immediately focused on the phone once again.

She sleep beside me. So I can’t do much.

He felt raw with need as he texted her, wide open for her to see all of him, but he didn’t mind it. His mind flashed back to that day when they had gotten so inwrapped in each other that all they could do was keep going. There was a closeness between them that he couldn’t make sense of; All he knew was that he needed her again.

Smoke watched the curser blink as the delivered message stared back at him. He quickly moved to type once more.

I been thinkin bout the other day.

me too, baby i been needin you so bad it’s too hard to ignore

Shit. I been thinkin bout just givin in

i think you should. we’ve fucked already anyway, so just let it happen

Fuck. We doin this fr?

if you want to, smokey. come over to my place tomorrow

Bet.

And without much effort or tooth pulling, Smoke gave in and let go. He went to Annie’s home the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that. He was with Annie whenever he could get a chance, coming and going as he pleased, and she welcomed him with open arms and a heart free of guilt.

It had made her feel like shit at first, but how could you blame her? Smoke knew how to take care of every single one of her needs, and her friend should have been focused on keeping that good dick on lock. It wasn't her fault that the threesome had awakened something in her, a side that needed Smoke just as much as he needed her. And with time, they just grew more attached to each other, completely uncaring for how this would impact themselves and others.

~~~~~

Bent over the center console with her heels rooted into the floor of the backseat, Annie muffled her moans as Smoke stroked her deeply. They were in his truck, parked in the middle of an abandoned lot, and although they were trying to be inconspicuous, the way he was thrusting into her had the truck rocking back and forth.

"Take this shit, baby," Smoke growled, smacking the side of her ass. It had become a force of habit now because he couldn't just watch that ass bounce on him and not touch her. She was addicting, and the more time they spent together, the easier it was to have her body screaming.

Unsuccessful in her attempts to shush herself, Annie cried his name, begged him to let her cum. As much as she needed the relief, they both had places to be that didn't involve each other. And the longer they went at it like this, the more their schedules were getting pushed back and the closer they were to this situation being ruined.

Behind her, sweat beaded on Smoke’s forehead. If you asked him, the man would swear that he and Annie were molded for each other—perfectly created for this moment. He knew where he had to be, knew that Annie had plans too, but he was losing himself in this, in her.

His strokes shifted out of rhythm as he began to feel his body tighten in every muscle. Anticipation grew, and his eyes clouded over.

Barking out a command for her give it to him, Smoke continued to fuck Annie through her orgasm. When her moans turned to whines, his chest expanded at the glorious sound; And with little effort, he let go into the condom, sinking back into the car seat for reprieve.

"You know she settin' up a double date, right," Annie huffed. She fixed her skirt, pulling it back down to an appropriate length and unsuccessfully smoothing out the wrinkles.

The man beside her was fully relaxed into the seat, mind blank. His eyes were closed, head tilted toward the ceiling as the after effects of his orgasm soothed his exhausted body; But as he registered her words, dread filtered through him.

"A double date with who," Smoke questioned wearily. His voice had a groggy note to it, but his fear and irritation shined through.

"You two and me and the nigga I'm seein' right now," she rolled her eyes in annoyance. Without even taking the chance to look, she knew the expression he wore on his face: one of confusion; one of betrayal. They'd never talked about her new man, and quite frankly, she wasn't ready to have this conversation with him, but they both needed to get on one accord if they were going to be able to pull this date night off without acting like people who have fucked each other more than once.

She pretended to be engrossed in her phone, biting at her bottom lip as she felt the anger course through him.

"Well, you must be confused 'cause the only nigga you seein' is me," Smoke boomed. Chest heaving, the man shook his head, finally gaining awareness of his surroundings again. Empty parking lot. In the backseat of his truck. Half naked. With his girl’s friend.

Hastily, he fixed his clothes and set the used condom to the side before turning in the woman's direction. But she refused to look him in the eye, refused to speak.

"Don't piss me off, Annie," he exasperated, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You can't claim me, Smoke," the woman reasoned, arms wrapped tightly under her chest. Her eyes finally flashed over his body, and when they settled on his eyes, she could tell just how torn he was. The emotion made her blood boil. "You got her, so I can fuck around with whoever I want."

"So you fuckin' this nigga, too," Smoke thundered, arms flailing as everything felt like it was hitting him at once. He didn't have time to listen to reason. All he knew was that Annie belonged to him—whether it was fair to feel that way or not.

"I'm not fuckin' nobody but you, so don't even go there for real," she argued, hand in his face as she put emphasis on each word. "You shouldn't be worried 'bout shit when you got a whole bitch at home waitin' for yo' cheatin' ass like a dummy."

Taken aback, Smoke revved his head back, brows pulling together.

"That's yo' damn friend, too, so if you feel any better in this situation than I do, you the dummy," he chastised, pointing a finger right back at her. "I ain't even touched her ass for real since we started doin' this 'cause I'm tryna be faithful to you."

"Oh my God! Do you hear yourself," Annie laughed, completely astonished. "You talkin' 'bout bein' faithful like you ain't doin' wrong to somebody else."

"Whatever," Smoke tsked, rolling his eyes and letting his back meet the seat again. He ain’t feel like explaining it to her, but the way he saw it, his relationship was over. It was over when she decided to bring someone new in the equation. It was over when she made him feel like he wasn’t enough. Breathing deeply, he cut his eyes at Annie, leveling her with a look. "I just know you better not show up wit' no other nigga," he warned.

"You don't own me, Smoke" she shouted in response, and as she continued to curse him out and call him every name in the book, Annie climbed out of the backseat and slammed the door shut. Smoke watched her with an angered expression, but no matter how upset he was, he still ensured she made it safely to her car parked nearby. Defeated, he watched he skirt out of the abandoned parking lot, leaving him behind.

~~~~~

A week passed without word from Annie. Smoke texted and called and even showed up at her house a couple of times, but she refused to speak with him. In her mind, she was a grown ass woman who could do whatever she wanted because Smoke wasn’t her man. But in his mind, Smoke was her nigga and her only nigga.

When his girl told him about the double date, he made sure to respond appropriately. Not overly surprised. Not overly excited or interested. He made sure to seem somewhere in the middle because the way he responded to Annie was not how he needed to show up here. He needed to be as neutral as possible, and while he did the best he could, he could tell that his girl had picked up on something in his response.

Whether it be the uptick of his pulse, the tightening of his jaw, or the tremble of his hands, he knew she saw something—and there was no burying the realization that had popped up in her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~2,000

a/n: shit's getting messyyy. what y'all thing gon happen at the double datee?

taglist: comment HERE to be added!

sinner!annie who feels that her connection to The Most High has been tainted due to her lifestyle. recently, she has been falling into temptation, allowing Satan to wrap his hands around her throat and drag her through a life of unrighteousness.

sinner!annie who loves to pretend she's pious by running to the church house on sunday's and for bible study on wednesday's, but any other day of the week, she's fucking husbands and deacons and important men in the community, feeding off of the power it gives her to bring a man to his knees and ruin his good name.

sinner!annie who's had her eyes set on her pastor for as long as she could remember. he was tall, sexy, and thick with a disapproving gaze that sent shivers throughout her body, and all she wanted was to have him crumble beneath her.

pastor!elijah who is the shepard to a congregation of 100 souls.

pastor!elijah who knows the face, name, and backstory of every one of his sheep. he takes his position seriously to ensure they all are as close to Godliness as they can achieve.

pastor!elijah who knows annie by face, name, and backstory; who watches her enter the church every sunday, eyes straight forward as she meanders down the center aisle and sits with her legs crossed on the front pew before laying a lap scarf over her knees. he notices the sway of her hips, the jaunt of her ass, and how she begins to wear dresses shorter and shorter as the sunday's pass by.

sinner!annie who set her plan into motion the moment she sees his eyes drag over her body. she spends the entire service fanning herself and envisioning him taking her over his desk in the fellowship hall, and when she's not fantasizing, she's putting on a good show of the most pious woman to ever exist.

sinner!annie who, the saturday before church, spends her evening laid up in bed with a man stroking her from behind. he's tall and sexy and thick—but he’s nothing like pastor elijah. she’s thought of him the entire time, those disapproving eyes, that grin when the congregation obeys his order to repeat a verse. she wants to obey him just as much as she wants to subdue him, and the urge to give in to her desires makes her feel sick.

pastor!elijah who sits in his office after service, hands folded and elbows pressing harshly into the wood. he's been unclean, harboring thoughts no man of God should, thoughts of one member of his flock, thoughts that should bring him to his knees before God. but all he wanted was her.

pastor!elijah who jumps in shock when the door to his office creaks open. everyone is gone—or at least they were supposed to be—but when he sees annie's eyes look upon him, his throat bobs in anticipation. one of his sheep needs help.

sinner!annie who sits before him with a bowed head and whispers, "i have not been acting as a Godly woman should, pastor." her tone is alluring, hot and sultry as her arms clasp in front of her in mock-shame. but she's getting exactly what she wants: pastor elijah's attention.

sinner!annie who cries.

sinner!annie who begs for forgiveness.

sinner!annie who kneels before him, asking for mercy.

pastor!elijah who faces her, standing over her trembling form with his head tilted in amusement. he can read right through her. he knows she's not seeking real forgiveness, and he doesn't plan on giving it to her anytime soon.

pastor!elijah who reaches for her chin, pulling her up to face him and mutters back, "how have you sinned, sister annie? show me."

sinner!annie who shudders at the chance to obey his word; who moves with a quickness, standing before him. her breath becomes heavy, and her agile fingers move down the length of his body. "please forgive me, pastor 'lijah," she groans, upzipping his slacks and pushing them down his legs.

pastor!elijah who nearly growls when her hand wraps around his dick, but he stuffs the sound down and hides his need behind a scowl. "the bible says, 'if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.' confess your sins, annie."

sinner!annie who moans out, "yes, pastor," before she's back on her knees and swallowing him down the back of her throat. she chokes around him, rutting against nothing but the imagination of him between her legs. this feels holier than anything she's done before, closer to God than she ever thought she'd be able to achieve. she hums around him when he trembles, tears springing from her eyes.

pastor!elijah who allows himself to be conquered; who accepts the opportunity of being wrecked by her. he feels the talons of Satan wrapping tight around his throat, but the closer she brings him to his climax—the more she confesses every sin and wrongdoing—the easier he allows himself to be brought under with her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

word count: ~900

a/n: talk to meee

taglist: comment HERE to be added!