A Web Portal For Lesbians Of Color

Fire & Brimstone


Laurinda D. Brown

 Copyright © 2002 by Laurinda D. Brown

"Upon the wicked he shall rain snares, fire and brimstone, and horrible tempest: this shall be the portion of their cup." Psalms 11: 6



 "For this cause God gave them up into vile affections: for even their women did change the natural use into that which is against nature: And the likewise also the men, leaving the natural use of the woman, burned in their lust one toward another; men with men working that which is unseemly, and receiving in themselves that recompence of their error which was meet."

Romans 1: 26 - 27


“Why do you start this shit every Sunday morning!”  Gayle screamed as she stormed out of the bedroom.  She slammed the door so hard the dresser mirror shook, and all of the cards and pictures that were stuck in the crevices fell to the surface.

Gayle was a beautiful, big-boned woman.  She had an ass that any man would damn near kill for and plenty of breasts to go along with it.  Her voluptuous lips were perfectly shaped, for they were soft and tasted like strawberries, even at the break of dawn.  Her silky smooth, milk chocolate skin was blemish-free and had a glow that could light up any room.  She kept her hair cut stylishly low, and it was extremely becoming on her rounded, fat face.  Sexy would never be enough to describe her eyes.  They were the prettiest shade of brown, and, whenever she sang with the melodious voice that God blessed her with, those gorgeous eyes crooned to her lover’s heart whether the song was R&B, jazz, or gospel. “What are you talking about Gayle?”  Chris mumbled into the pillow.  “You get up every Sunday bitchin’ about something.”

“Me?”  Gayle snapped as she tugged on her pantyhose.  Besides having sex, putting on her pantyhose every Sunday morning was the only exercise that she got.  “You’re the one who gets such a ‘tude on Sunday mornings when I get up to go to church.  You start throwin’ shit and acting like you possessed or something.  You come up with every reason in the world why I shouldn’t take the car out.  You’ve flattened the tires.  You…”

“Wait a minute,” Chris answered.  “I didn’t flatten those tires.  You always blame shit like that on me.” The pillow was pulled tighter with the intent of drowning out yet another argument.

“Anyway, Chris.  I’m tired of this.  When I start puttin’ on my clothes, you get this attitude with me that lasts until 12:01 Monday morning.  I mean it’s like clockwork.”  Gayle got up and went into the bathroom and started putting on her make-up.  These arguments had become pretty regular, and there seemed to be no end to them.  With each passing Sunday, they had become worse, and, on this particular Sunday, Gayle knew that it would be a turning point in their relationship.  As she stroked her red make-up sponge across her forehead, she leaned around the corner and glared at Chris.  “Question,” she said pausing to complete her last stroke.


Gayle came out of the bathroom and took a seat on the edge of the bed.  “Why is it that you always want to have sex before I leave to go to church?  First, you won’t let me touch you on Saturday nights, but then you wanna get up the next morning and go at it like a dog in heat.  The only thing on my mind is going to church.  I have to go to church, and you know that.  You know the responsibilities that I have on Sunday mornings, but you’re so dead set on trying to get you some ass.  And you just ain’t right for that.”

Chris didn’t answer.

“You hear me talkin’ to you?”  Gayle got up and walked over to Chris’s side of the bed.  She reached for the hand that was delicately placed on top of the smooth, beige body that she had grown to love more than she had ever loved any man.  Chris pulled away from her and sat straight up in the bed, giving Gayle a look that appeared painful but sincere. Gayle was incensed with Chris, but she could also see the sadness in Chris’s eyes.  “Chris, baby, what’s wrong with you?  Why do we go through this every week?  There’s got to be something more to this.  I feel like there’s something going on with you that you don’t want me to know about.  Aren’t you tired of all the fighting?”  She got up and looked out the window, noticing how bright the sun was.  It was a perfect day for a stroll in the park with her family after church.  “Hey, I have an idea.  Why don’t you come to church with me?  Afterwards we can go to the park or something.”

“You’re kiddin’, right?”

No, I’m not.  I’m serious this time.  It might do us some good.”

“You actually think that me going to church with you is going to make everything alright?  It’s like you sleep with me Monday through Saturday, but then, come Sunday, it’s a sin and a shame,” Chris chuckled, pushing back against the brass headboard.  “Answer me this one question, Gayle.”

“Sure, baby.  Anything.”

“How in the hell can you go to church on Sunday mornings and minister to a congregation of nearly a thousand people when you just got out of bed with a woman?”

Gayle’s mouth dropped open, and tears filled the wells of her eyes.  She realized that she had no answer for that question.