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I’d never thought of church as entertainment, but that evening before the young woman pastor delivered her message, I enjoyed the escape of the music. They had a band and the upbeat tempo of most of their songs had my mood changing even more as they played at the end of the night.
It was such a different atmosphere than the churches I’d visited before and almost a night and day comparison to my experiences in Lancaster.
It was enjoyable. The parishioners smiled and laughed at the casual preaching that didn’t really feel like preaching at all. There were no threats of damnation. They weren’t subjected to diatribes of consequence of not abiding—to the letter—the teachings in the Bible.
Their pastor spoke more like she was giving a lecture, like she was having a conversation. It was easy to listen to and connect with.
That night her message had been about talking to God, and it struck a chord with me.
So I was still sitting there lost in thought when a man around my age, maybe a little older, walked over.
“Hey there, I’m Brad.” He smiled and looked behind himself to the pulpit. “Samantha’s husband. I’ve seen you come in a few times, and just wanted to say welcome and hello.”
He sat in the pew in front of mine and offered me a handshake over the back of it.
“Abe. Good to meet you.”
“Just move to Fairview?”
Usually, I wasn’t one for small talk with strangers, but he was just being friendly. I enjoyed attending their church, so I kept my manners in check. “No, been here for some time.”
“Oh, well good. It’s always nice to see new faces.”
“She’s a good speaker,” I said. “I haven’t enjoyed church in a long time. Truthfully, maybe ever.”
“She’s much better at public speaking than I am, always has been. That’s probably why she’s the one up there and I’m not.”
It was different to me that a woman was leading worship while her husband sat in the pews. I’d only ever known it the other way around.
“You don’t preach?”
“No.” He laughed. “Counselor at the high school. Guess I’m better at one on one. Still helping but saving teenagers from going to the wrong college isn’t the same as saving souls.” He chuckled again letting me know he was mostly joking. It sounded like he’d delivered that line before.
“My girlfriend—well, my wife—she’s getting her GED.” I wasn’t sure how far Myra wanted to go with her education, but in the future if she was interested maybe Brad could help her find a school.
“Girlfriend? Wife?” he asked.
“It’s complicated.”
A familiar sensation came over me as he glanced at my left hand. “A GED. Good for her.” Then he studied me a little harder. “Is she younger or ...”
I hadn’t even thought about how it must have sounded. A man my age, who looked like me, talking about a girlfriend-wife getting a GED. I’m sure whatever he was thinking didn’t make me look all that great.
“No, Myra’s in her twenties.” I took a breath and for whatever reason, just let it out. “We grew up in Lancaster.”
He squinted. “Really? I’ve had a few students transfer to an academy there after getting into trouble.”
“Well, that would be a punishment.”
I wasn’t proud to say it, but it was the truth and there was no reason to pretend otherwise.
He glanced at his wife again. Most of the band had left except for a few who were talking to her as she was putting things into a tote bag near where Brad had been sitting in the front.
“I don’t want to keep you,” he said. “Just wanted to say hi and welcome. We’re glad you’re here, and of course we’d love for you to bring Myra.”
Finding a church was personal, at least it had been for me. After over a decade of avoiding all of them and only just recently finding one that felt comfortable, when Myra was ready to go to church again—if that ever happened—whichever one she attended would be up to her.
Although, I would invite her. I’d love for us to attend together, but I’d wait and see.
“Thank you.”
We both stood, and I looked at my phone to check the time, noticing Myra had replied. It was two gifs. A clip of Jim Carrey from Ace Ventura captioned, “Alrighty then.” And one of a young woman in bed, pulling the covers over her head and falling to the side.
Class must have not gone well. I gained no pleasure from that, but I loved her tenacity regardless.
Brad tapped the walnut pew between us and said, “And listen, I’m not trying to be pushy or assume anything—no judgement here—but if you guys ever need anything, we’re all here for you. This church family is strong, and we look after one another. We’ve got people from all walks and stages of life. So no doubt whatever it is, someone here can help.” Brad was a nice guy, that was unmistakable. He kind of reminded me of Myra in some respects. He seemed genuine and sincere. Normally, hearing someone say something like that would feel patronizing, but he only sounded like he meant it.
“Thanks. It’s nice to meet you.”
As I turned to go, his wife noticed us talking and waved. I grinned and motioned a reply with a few fingers in the air. It was odd to feel so at home in a place like that, but I did.
I’d come in that night with a mess in my head and left somewhat comforted.
The pastor’s words from earlier repeated in my mind as I drove.
“When you’re going through struggles and trying times, it’s nice to have someone there with you who always knows where you’ve been and where you want to go. That’s what you get from talking to God.”
As I drove, I talked to him, thinking to myself, in the silent cab of my truck. When I pulled into our drive, I thought maybe Myra was still in her car. The headlights were on, but it appeared she’d only forgotten to turn them off when she went inside.
I couldn’t fix all her problems—maybe none of them—but I could at least prevent one from happening tomorrow. So I opened the driver’s side, found the knob, and turned them off for her.
It was quite the sight in the cabin.
Myra, cross legged on the island, eating dessert straight from the pan, an opened and half-empty beer beside her on the counter. Crumbles on her chin and raspberry on her shirt.
Messy and sexy and in a brand-new way she turned me on.
She chewed, and I took a seat at the island in front of her. She picked around the dish, foregoing pieces and digging right into the center. The fruity smell hit my nose, and I leaned forward, mouth open. Without a word, she loaded up her fork and steered it into my mouth. Since I didn’t need my hands, I wrapped them around to her bottom and pulled her closer to me.
With her, I didn’t want personal space anymore.
I swallowed and ran my fingers over the seams on the outside thighs of her jeans.
“Talk to me.”
She poked around the dessert again and said, “I’m not sure where to start.”
“Start small.”
“I talked to my sister-in-law Denise earlier, and she was a... a bitch.” The swear word from her wholesome lips almost knocked me off my stool. Her timing never disappointed.
“What did she say?” I stretched my neck for another bite after she took one for herself.
She shook her head to get her hair behind her shoulders and glared at the ceiling. “I guess nothing out of the usual. I shouldn’t have called her that.”
“Hey,” I wiggled her hips between my hands. “Call ‘em like you see ‘em.”
She huffed, a brief sardonic chuckle. “Right.”
With a shrug, she picked up another forkful and fed it to me.
I sucked it and decided to tell her about the job. Might as well get it all out there. “I have to go out of town for work.”
Her brow relaxed, which was not how I expected her to react.
“Tomorrow?” she asked. The coolness in her blue eyes warmed.
“No. Sunday afternoon.”
She squinted. “Is that good or bad?”
“Good, I guess.” It would be a nice payday with the added overtime. Plus, the job was a great opportunity for the mill. There was just one con. “But I don’t like being away from you.”
She hid her smile and puckered, revealing a tiny dimple on her chin I hadn’t noticed before. Unable to resist, I touched it and picked the fallen crust from the crumbly snack beside it and then licked it off my thumb.
She sat the dish off to the side, kissed my cheek, and grinned against my skin. “I don’t like being away from you much either.” That soothed some of the sting.
“Might be a few weeks. Maybe a month.”
She grumbled. “Without coming home?”
“I’ll be back and forth, but I won’t be sure when until we get going. It’s a large track of timber to fall, and we’re milling it too. Ted said a weekend might be possible here and there, but it’ll be play-by-ear from day-to-day.”
“Okay.” Her head tilted to the side and her neck tempted me to kiss it, but I stalled when she continued. “I suppose that’ll just give me more time to study—which apparently I need to do constantly if I ever plan on passing the test. Mr. Paxton even suggested I use a tutor.”
“What would that hurt?” There was no shame in needing help. She was doing something hard as hell.
“Probably nothing, but the tutor is that grouchy girl from my class.” She whispered, “Another bitch.”
That was curious. Why would a person who tutored need to attend prep courses?
I leaned back and crossed my arms, interested.
She continued, “And there is no way I’m paying her to help me. I don’t care how smart she thinks she is. No, thank you. I’m past letting inconsiderate people bother me.” The color in her cheeks became opaquer and the flush spread down her neck.
Her jaw rocked.
Was Myra pissed?
“You don’t have to.”
“I’ll just study harder. It’s not like there’s any rush now. Hobby Lobby isn’t even hiring.”
God, she was sweet and wound up too. She looked at her finger, covered in the sticky treat and set down the fork and dish. She stretched for a napkin, but before she could reach it, I leaned forward and put my mouth around the fruity digit.
She froze and watched me as I played with it and licked it clean.
“There. All better,” I said as I examined it in front of my face.
Slowly, she twisted to the side and ran the same finger through the pan again. Without breaking eye contact, she smeared it on her neck. “Oops.”
It was a dare, and I took it.
I stood and pitched forward faster than she expected causing her to yip just before my mouth met her skin. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with your food?”
Her eyes glazed over and her lids became heavy as she answered, turning her face just enough to meet my gaze. “Yeah, but I don’t listen to them anymore.”
Loving that answer, my tongue swiped her raspberry skin. If I had a weakness for that dessert before, it was two-fold now. It would have been easy to keep loving on her, but I wanted to see where she’d take it. In her own delicious way, she was telling me exactly what she wanted and where.
How could I resist?
When I’d savored all the sugary goodness she’d left for me, I stood before her and waited to see what she’d do next. When she looked at my lips, she licked hers, chest rising and falling with each deep breath.
“More?” she asked.
I nodded.
Without missing a beat, she lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it somewhere behind me. It didn’t go unnoticed that her hands trembled, but she had no reason to be scared. No, her dilated blue eyes explained that she was excited, maybe nervous, but that was okay.
All this was new, and not just for her. I would have been lying if I said my heart wasn’t hammering and my jeans weren’t uncomfortably tight in the groin. Still, I let her lead.
I knew what it was like to have fantasies, and if this was one of hers, I was only too happy to make it a reality. We could get just as sticky and messy as she wanted. That’s what showers were for, and I had to admit I had some fantasies of my own we could live out under the hot water later if she was interested.
This time with two fingers, she swiped raspberry across the top of her lace-covered breast.
There’d been many times I’d wondered if she were ready for things, if she knew what she was doing to me, or if we were taking things too far, too fast. This was not one of those times.
She was ready.
She was well aware.
Maybe we both needed things to go too far, too fast that night.
I’d let her be the judge.
I didn’t break eye contact as I left my seat at the counter, slid my hand around the back of her round backside, and drug her to the edge nearer to me. With one bold glance down at her chest, she silently instructed me to feast on her.
So I did. No hesitation. No curbing my hunger. No right or wrong song and dance playing through my mind. No holding back, I ravaged her. Like a wild animal starved. Like a man losing his mind. My lips and mouth and tongue and greedy hands nipped and pawed and went at her.
She moaned and held me to her breast by the hair. Each time her grip on me tightened, so did my urgency to taste more of her. Her flesh and the fruit had become one to my senses, and I’d never be full of Myra.
The way she shivered under my touch would never get old. How she clung to me in desperate moments would always have pride swelling in my chest. She’d let me savor her, and I’d never refuse.
I was hell bent and already addicted to her pleasure.
So much so, that by the time I’d heaved her from the bar top, pulled her pants and panties down around her ankles, and knelt before her spread hind cheeks, the only thing that would stop me would be her saying no.
She didn’t, but instead, bent over the stool surrendering to the moment. So I buried my face between her parted legs. I lapped and sucked at her swollen lips until she bucked. Like coaxing a string through the eye of a needle, I threaded my tongue into her from behind.
“Oh my,” she panted above me.
Then my fingers caressed the sensitive mount at the front of her, and she grew wetter on my mouth.
It was so damn good.
She cried out my name and whimpered as she found a climax like I’d never witnessed her have. Before it flew away like a dove on hunt for its mate, I rose and pulled myself free of my jeans. Then ran my hand over my beard gathering the slickness I’d need, knowing she was wetter than ever which was hopefully enough.
Over her shoulder, she gave me a look. It was pleading. Needy.
One hand on her naked back, and the other holding myself, I pressed forward. There was resistance, beautiful resistance, and I nearly backed away.
Until I heard her whisper, heard her beg, “Don’t stop. Please, Abe. Don’t stop.”
Inch by pulsing inch, I wedged into her. She was perfect. Our fit was tight and all consuming. There was no way to know where my flesh ended and hers began.
I didn’t want to waste it. Couldn’t yet bring myself to go fast. There was no need to because the slow grind of our bodies working together was almost more than I could bear. My ears rang. My hips bucked every time they met her flush at her backside.
She rolled herself against me and it fantastically went on and on.
I hunched forward and inched my shirt up my chest just to feel my skin against hers as we moaned the rawest, most erotic sounds I’d ever heard. The wooden stool I’d built was holding out, but the time had come where I couldn’t any longer.
My hand snuck through the space between her side and her arm and hooked onto her shoulder from the front. With the other I squeezed her hip, hoping not to bruise her, and then my vision blurred.
“Ah.” I needed just a bit more, just a bit deeper, and I went up on my toes. “Ah, ah.” And there it was. “Yes.”
I thrusted into her, almost savagely, as my load pulsed out of me and into her.
My muscles tensed, twitched, tensed again, and then a second wave hit me all at once.
“Myra,” I shouted, my forehead against her spine. “Ahhh.”
She sagged against the chair, and I feared I’d hurt her.
As I kicked off my shoes and then my pants the rest of the way, I lifted her up into my arms. Her body was limp against my chest and I kissed her forehead. The only thing that brought me any comfort was her weak smile and the way she lazily looked at me like I was her entire world.
I walked us straight to the tub and since she was completely naked by then, I sat down inside it, turned the faucet on, and then shucked off my t-shirt.
All I wanted to do was tend to her. Wash her. Give to her.
For Heaven’s sake, she gave me everything.