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Praise Jesus, the commandments were always a wonderful source of sermon material. “Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.” Jason Abingdon said the words aloud. What a wonderful, biblical sound it had! And what a realm of interpretations and nuances were possible! A ringing sermon on one of the commandments never failed to fill the collection plate.
Of course, some of the commandments were more straightforward and lacked the subtlety of today’s message on false witness. “Thou shalt not commit adultery,” for example. This was one to be avoided at present, at least until Darlene’s divorce was final and they could be married. Not that the congregation would condemn him. He suspected they realized this was a match made in heaven. Most of them surely understood that his was a special case, not to be judged by earthbound interpretations of the commandments.
Hallelujah, what a woman she was, his plump little hen. He could imagine her silken, sensuous voice singing Silent Night with Brother Charles today. They would open the service with the song. Nothing better than Silent Night to shake loose those coins from the faithful. Darlene and Brother Charles were already practicing O Little Town of Bethlehem for next Sunday, Christmas Day. They had spent more time on Silent Night than Jason would have thought necessary, but he wouldn’t begrudge them the time to perfect it for the glory of the Lord.
He heard a tap at the study door, and Darlene opened it. She was wearing a stunning dress of winter white, which was trimmed with an angelic, tinsel-like material. He put his hand on her knee. “You look like an angel. A voluptuous cherub.” His fingers slid teasingly up her thigh.
Darlene stopped his hand. “No time now, my darling. I have to run through the songs one more time with Charles.” She adjusted her skirt and swept a hand over her soft blond curls.
“Again? How many times have you practiced today’s music?”
“Not enough. The Christmas music has to be perfect. Perfection makes the congregation more generous, my dear, and you know what that means.” She touched the end of his nose lightly with her forefinger.
He stood up and put his hands on her waist and then turned her around full circle to face him again. “Aren’t you losing weight? You look slimmer—or is it just the dress?” He realized his voice had the whine of complaint in it, and he resolved to rectify this when he opened his mouth again.
“I’ve lost a few pounds. You like?” She twirled around and stood glowing in front of him.
“You’re beautiful. I liked you the way you were, but you’re beautiful now, too. I don’t think you need to lose any more, though.”
“Just a couple of pounds, maybe.” She tweaked his cheek and whisked away through the door to meet Brother Charles.
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Jason sat behind the pulpit while the organist played introductory music. The last of the congregation was filling the huge church, and the television cameras were in place. His eyes drifted over Lilia Wade and her husband. Their marriage was on firmer ground now, but that was what pleased him most—a lightning affair with a distraught wife, a taste of the earthly pleasures the blessed Lord provides, and then easing her back into the arms of her husband.
He had perfected the technique years ago. An arm across the shoulders followed by counseling and a pastorly hug. The next visit would begin with a hug and end with a comforting pat on the knee. By the third visit, he was usually able to reach God’s greatest creation, sometimes just to touch the bountiful well of bliss, and at other times to find release for his raging desires. Praise God from whom all blessings flow!
Lilia was too slender for his tastes, but those eyes! Huge liquid pools that tried to swallow him up. He had gotten into Lilia’s pants three times before he decided he’d better ease her back to her husband, leaving himself in the role of noble martyr, giving her up for the sake of her home and family, and comforting pastor who had done his duty in his own possibly unorthodox way.
Consuelo Munoz was out there with her little boy also. She was his only other conquest since he had arrived in Dallas. Except for Darlene, of course, but she was now his mate and couldn’t be thought of as a conquest.
Darlene and Brother Charles had taken their place at the microphone as he fantasized about Consuelo. They began to sing Silent Night. Consuelo had been hot to trot and in the process of divorcing her husband. He had been sure he could steer her back to her spouse, but she pounced on him every chance she got. For two weeks he was so frazzled he could hardly get it up for Darlene and had to plead fatigue resulting from the heavy ministerial schedule he followed.
He finally was able to scare Consuelo away by claiming the Virgin Mary appeared to him and chastised him for conduct unbecoming a minister. Consuelo had immediately gotten involved with a hulking young man who sang in the choir, a man youthful enough to keep up with her ravenous passions.
“Son of God, loves pure light . . .” Darlene’s creamy smooth voice caressed Jason, and he shifted his position slowly so he could see her and Brother Charles. He closed his eyes, a look of benediction on his face, and then opened them again.
Darlene leaned toward her singing partner, her right breast lightly touching his left arm. “Radiant beams from heaven afar . . .” She lifted her eyes in a look of rapt adoration. Was she looking at the cross behind Brother Charles, or was she looking at him? Jason’s stomach contracted in a spasm of uneasiness.
“Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace.” They raised their hands toward heaven. Darlene’s right arm intertwined with Brother Charles’s left, and he grasped her hand and pulled her upward, her body resting comfortably against him.
Darlene will never leave me, Jason told himself, as long as the money keeps rolling in. We’re a pair. I need her, and she needs me. The applause was like thunder, and the singers lowered their hands, fingers still locked.
Jason walked to the pulpit as they glided from the dais in a sparkle of tinsel. Why was he overcome suddenly with the feeling that without Darlene, he was nothing? As he began the sermon, he realized his voice was as flat as unleavened bread.
