Authors: Bonnie Wheeler
Most mornings, he would sit at a booth and watch her while he enjoyed breakfast. The buttons on her cotton uniform were of great interest to him. They caused strained slits across her breasts, revealing glimpses of her taste for lace bras. But as Brian watched her bustle behind the counter taking orders, even she couldn’t get his pulse racing. Placing his order to go, he fished a five dollar bill out of his wallet.
Daisy was a conquest for another day. He had enough women problems at the moment.
The front of New Hope Bible Church looked exactly the same as it did when he accepted the job of Pastor there fourteen years before. With its charming white paint and manicured lawn, it was a promising church for him to have his first full-time position. He had served as the assistant preacher in West Hartford for his first five years and did three years before that as youth pastor in Winsted.
Having his own church was his dream – one that proved more lucrative than busting his back at a factory or growing fat behind a cubicle. Churches down south loved to send him monetary contributions to support his mission work to New England’s heathen liberals. Meanwhile he received a handsome salary from his parishioners for using his Bible-belt theology to appeal to the small community’s puritanical upbringing.
Growing up in rural Georgia didn’t give Brian a lot of career options. With a quiet desperation to escape the family’s farm, a history of a broken femur made it impossible to enlist in the military and he didn’t have the grades for a college scholarship. His easy recall of Bible verses and friendly personality made him a favorite at his parents’ church. He was often asked to read the opening scripture before the minister began the sermon. Before long, he was drafted into assisting with communion.
When the old folks began suggesting he become a preacher, he thought if they only knew how sick in the head he was, they would realize the idea was ludicrous. But after studying how little Pastor Carpenter did during the course of a week, Brian allowed the idea to take hold.
Learning the man found ways to use his leadership for other opportunities really sold Brian on the trade. It was more than the free side of cattle his father delivered to the pastor’s freezer each fall or the yard work all of the men in the congregation were supposed to do for him without pay. It was discovering his mother half undressed in Carpenter’s office that confirmed Brian’s decision. There wasn’t a more religious woman in the county than Betty Jones and everyone knew the mean bastard she was married to would strangle a guy for looking at her. If Carpenter had enough clout to talk his holy rolling mother out of her pantyhose, then the old fool was onto something Brian wanted.
Excited with the idea of moving out of a town that only had a Waffle Hut and
Piggly
Wiggly,
Brian knew he wanted to relocate to New England. There were a few evangelical missionaries in the Northeast sponsored by larger Southern churches. To be sent there was an honor. To him, living in New England showed status and wealth, essentials for success – and bigger salaries. So, he practiced Bible lingo and didn’t miss a service until the church elders agreed to pay for
his online training through the Bible Institute. His Connecticut life was everything he wanted.
Now, when he returned to his home town for visits, they praised him for his sacrifice. None of them possibly understood that he wouldn’t have it any other way. New England was far from Georgia and far from the farm life he had grown to resent. There he could mold a new identity and pretend to have come from a stable and devout home. Each new acquaintance would naturally believe Brian’s easy smile and outgoing personality were a natural consequence of a positive childhood, meanwhile ignorant of his insecurities due to the terror he experienced at the hands of his own flesh and blood.
Passing through the double doors into the sanctuary, the welcomed scent of chlorine from the baptistery filled his senses. It had been years since he baptized anyone, a truth he didn’t share with the congregation back home. He checked on the pool each day, it was one small duty he used as an excuse to appear busy.
With floors vacuumed and the pews polished, the deacons ensured the building was in perfect standing. The walls were painted a fresh egg shell white each spring and the fellowship room received new drapes and lighting fixtures each winter. He prided himself that any of the area’s church leaders could
stop by on a friendly call and covet New Hope’s prosperity. Despite the recession, the congregation had flourished over the last decade. Other places of worship weren’t faring as well.
They give too much to the poor.
Of course, Brian oversaw the church’s Benevolence Fund and rarely offered help unless the donation would benefit him with a returned favor. Offering Marge a fifty dollar gift card to Price Chopper along with her free Bible was the perfect opening into her life.
And her bed…
What he didn’t know was how to get rid of her so he could move on and appease Angela.
Leaning over the baptistery, Brian ran his hands through the tepid water. He had thought about asking Marge if she would want to fool around in it.
A different kind of full-body baptism
.
But, now he figured he best avoid her. What the hell made her think showing up at his house was okay? He had always thought Marge was a free spirit and only wanted casual sex, but last night she made it clear she expected more.
Damn women – they can’t just have fun without it having to mean something.
Resigned, he stood and wiped his hands on his pant leg. It was too bad he would have to end things with her, but maybe he could use the free time to strengthen his role in the community. Stopping by the old folk’s home or the hospital always impressed the townspeople.
Loosening his collar, Brian hoped Rachel would come home before Sunday’s service. Her running off would make him look bad.
Sighing, he glanced back at the baptistery.
Maybe Daisy will help me live out that fantasy
24
MARGE
Friday 10:00 AM
Marge slammed her phone into her purse. It was the third time she had tried calling Brian. Shifting in her seat, she peered at her reflection in the visor mirror. She had taken extra care with her hair and makeup this morning. If he wasn’t going to answer his cell, she would just have to find him.
What is his problem anyway?
Brian always took her calls. After last night, she was convinced the man knew what he wanted. The way he responded to her, the look in his eyes – only Marge could give him what he needed.
Angela must have gotten to him.
The more she thought about the way the bitch glared at her, the angrier Marge became. She should have told her off. She should have stood up for what she wanted. Brian said it will take time, but Marge knew with a little encouragement some things could be moved along quicker. Getting Angela out of the picture was a must. She would find a way to make it happen.
But first things first…
Pulling into traffic, Marge remembered Brian was out of the house by nine most mornings. She didn’t blame him for wanting to get away from his wife. He was an important man and had things to do.
Marge wished it was Monday or Wednesday. They usually met at the Howard Johnson’s off Route 8 on those days. The two would spend a good part of the afternoon having intercourse.
If I didn’t have to work, I’d be there for him whenever he wanted.
Once they were married, they would always be together. Maybe she could have a little office at the church. She was a people person and had become used to answering phones at Lilly’s. Veronica, the owner, said she was a benefit to the store because she had such a personal touch with customers. Marge was confident she would have a way with the members of the church once they got to know her.
Although the Ho-Jos was nice, Marge preferred when Brian came to her place in the evenings. They would share a bottle of wine and sometimes, she would cook for him. It felt right and she liked the way he left his scent on her bedding.
Everyone believed they were having a Bible study, so when they were done, while their bodies were still slick with
the film of lovemaking, he would whisper stories about King Solomon and King David. Men Brian must have admired.
I have to know something biblical if I ever got quizzed.
Driving through town only took a few minutes. With four street lights and one rotary, the town’s 1,309 residents all knew each other. It was easy to spot Brian’s Cadillac. He was the only one that had one.
He’s at the church?
A quick survey of the parking lot revealed he was alone. Smiling, Marge thought it was the perfect place to surprise him. She knew to park the Honda in the back so it couldn’t be seen from the road.
The sun was shining and the air tasted like autumn. Balancing on her patent leather stilettos, Marge nudged her denim mini lower on her hips. The black t-shirt she was wearing was too small, but she loved the way it conformed to her curves. It matched the grey leather bolero jacket. Satisfied that her naval piercing showed, she made her way towards the Sunday school entrance.
With three knocks, she waited in anticipation. Brian’s office was near the back door and was in earshot. She only had three hours before she was scheduled to be at Lilly’s. It was more than enough time to bring Brian to his knees. He
loved it when she got a little kinky. She wasn’t into anything weird, but deliberately went without panties to give him a surprise. Brian wasn’t the best she ever had in bed, but he was better than Williston.
At least he can get it up.
Thinking of her ex-husband left a bad taste in her mouth. The thing about Will that pissed her off was that she loved him. Even though he had lost the ability to bring her to orgasm, he was a good father to Katie. Believing him when he passed off his lack of interest in sex as result of work stress, Marge still thought they had something special. She liked that Williston took care of her. Always concerned with how she was feeling, he lavished her with gifts and bought her pretty clothes. When Marge learned he was having sex with Thomas Craft, she couldn’t stay with him. Everyone seemed to know about Williston’s weakness for men but her.
He made me look like a fool.
Unsure of what made him change, Marge spent countless hours examining her womanly sex appeal. She didn’t want to be the one who turned him gay; she couldn’t live with herself if she did. Williston told her that he didn’t mean to hurt her, but not a day went by that she didn’t feel the sting of his betrayal.
One thing she did know for sure, once she was engaged to Brian, she would be sure to send him a wedding invitation.
Maybe he will hurt as much as I do.
Marge knocked on the door again, this time louder. She didn’t like that Brian was making her wait.
What is he doing in there?
It wasn’t like Marge was just some annoying member of his congregation. She was a part of his life. A good part if she had any say in it.
Glancing down at her outfit, she didn’t know any other forty-year-old with a body like hers. Her figure was slender, but she had a firm butt and her divorce settlement paid for the boob job. Years of competing in pageants left her with perfect posture and the ability to apply a spray on tan without streaking.