Mama's Little Girls

forty-three

Onika Maraj
28 October 2019
Midtown Condo

The thrill of victory was still humming through my veins as I pulled into the parking garage of my condo. I'd done it. After weeks of sleepless nights, endless strategy sessions, and tireless research, I'd won one of the toughest cases of my career. My client had cried in gratitude, and the courtroom had erupted in applause. But despite the accolades and the rush of achievement, there was only one person on my mind: Beyoncé.

I'd grown accustomed to winning. I was used to it. Beyoncé was like my reward after all that work.

She'd been my anchor through the chaos of that case, checking in on me alongside Alani and Maya. I owed her this moment, this celebration. I wanted her to know just how much she meant to me—how much I appreciated her patience, her care, and her love.

As soon as I stepped inside, I got to work. The first stop was my closet, where I pulled out a box of rose petals I'd been saving for a special occasion. I scattered them across the floor, leading from the front door to the living room and then to the bedroom. The petals against my floors practically sang I love you.

Next came the candles. I pulled out every single one I had stashed away—tall ones, tea lights, scented ones.

They filled the air with a warm glow as I arranged them around the room, on the mantle, and near the windows. Their flickering light gave everything a soft, intimate feel, and as I stepped back to admire my handiwork, I could already feel the excitement building.

But the atmosphere wasn't enough. I wanted to feel as radiant as the space I was creating. I headed to the bathroom and prepared for what I called my 'everything shower'. I turned the water on as hot as I could stand and stepped in, letting the steam wrap around me.

The first thing I reached for was my body scrub, the one that smelled like vanilla and caramel. I worked it over every inch of my skin, scrubbing away the stress and exhaustion of the past few weeks.

Then came the razor.

I shaved carefully, making sure my legs and everywhere else were as smooth as satin. After that, I reached for the wax strips, because tonight, nothing less than perfection would do.

By the time I was done, I felt like a new woman. I dried off, applied a rich body butter that left my skin glowing, and then sprayed my favourite perfume—one I knew Beyoncé loved—along my neck and wrists. The finishing touch was the blue lingerie I'd bought months ago but hadn't yet had a chance to wear. It was laced, delicate, and hugged my curves in all the right places.

I admired myself in the mirror for a moment, my confidence surging as I imagined the look on her face when she saw me.

Finally, I picked up my phone and dialed her number. She answered on the second ring, her voice sending a wave of arousal through me.

"Hey, baby." There was a little rasp, which told she was a little tired, but I knew calling her over would wake her up. "What's up?"

"Come over." I said simply, my tone leaving no room for argument. "Now."

There was a pause, then a soft chuckle. "You don't have to tell me twice. I'm on my way."

While I waited, I lit the candles and turned on some music—a playlist of jazz and R&B that I knew would set the mood perfectly. I checked the rose petals one last time, adjusted the straps on my lingerie, and then sat on the couch, trying to appear calm even though my heart was racing.

When my phone buzzed, I knew she was here. I smoothed my hair, took a deep breath, and positioned myself just inside the door.

The second she knocked, I swung it open, and there she was—Beyoncé, standing there in her usual effortless style, wearing dark jeans and a fitted white shirt that hugged her frame just right. Her smile lit up her face, but before she could say a word, I grabbed her by her belt-loop  and pulled her inside.