Reluctantly Deflowered by Pastor Graham

  Reluctantly Deflowered by Pastor Graham

  By Jo D. Smith

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2013 Jo D. Smith

  All Rights Reserved

  For more works, visit Jo's Author Page

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  I sat calmly, with my hands folded in my lap, but my thoughts were anything but calm. Mother sat beside me, her attention wholly on Pastor Graham as he delivered the day's sermon. It was a typical Sunday morning for us. His voice was deep and rich, like fresh coffee made into sound, and I let it wash over me as he spoke of hell, brimstone, fire and damnation. My thoughts led me perilously close to that terrible fate.

  I nervously awaited my wedding to Danny, Pastor Graham's son. He was a lunkhead, sure, but cute, and earnest. It was a good match, my mother assured me, but I thought that she had other designs. Designs on the Pastor himself. My father, along with Pastor Graham's wife, and five other souls were killed in a coal mining accident some years ago. Mother has been lonely and bitter ever since.

  “I say to you,” Pastor Graham said, his voice booming through the small church. “A rich man with nothing in his heart but greed shall not enter the Gates of Heaven. All of his money, all of his power, is nothing in the eyes of the Lord our God. Look to your neighbors and realize that only by your good works and repentance will you be granted eternal life in paradise. The wages of sin lead nowhere but down.”

  He paused and looked over the small crowd of parishioners. His steely gaze found me, and he stopped for a moment and smiled. I felt hot for a split second, and something primal rose within me, something sinful. I fought to keep it down, to keep the evidence of my base nature from my face as he moved on to another of the flock. The danger past, I allowed myself to relax a little and looked over at Mother.

  “Thank you folks,” Pastor Graham said. “There are some snacks, coffee, and juice for the children in the Fellowship room if you'd like to stick around and socialize. I'd also like to remind you that next Saturday, you are all cordially invited to a wedding.”

  There was a roar from the pews and thundering applause.

  “My son, Danny, and the lovely Mrs. Maggie Mayes will be tying the knot at this very church, and I must say, I couldn't be prouder. The ceremony starts at eleven, and the reception will be at Cora's Kitchen, in town. Cora has been generous enough to donate her entire restaurant for the evening.”

  More applause as Pastor Graham motioned for Cora to stand up and take a bow. Cora, blushing like a school girl, did as he asked, a rare feat as Cora was in her seventies and battled daily with arthritis.

  The church folk shuffled out much like they had shuffled in to the service, with a lot of glad handing and conversation. It was a tight knit community; it had to be in a coal mining town. It was dangerous work, and my father was hardly the first man to have it claim his life. Regina Graham was the first woman, but she was an administrative assistant in the wrong place at the wrong time. The church is what kept us strong, kept us together.

  I trailed my mother, absently acknowledging the well wishing and heartfelt congratulations of the crowd as we made our way to the entrance. I was nervous, even excited, but it had been over a week since I'd gotten to spend any time with Danny. All of the preparation for the wedding, his job at the mine, keeping the house tidy while Mother worked, kept us apart. The wedding should at least afford us some time together, if nothing else.

  Pastor Graham had taken up station in the lobby, shaking hands and favoring everyone with his broad smile. He was truly an inspiration for the town, and still a good looking man. It made me uncomfortable to be around him, especially when I was with Danny. I felt unclean when my thoughts turned to the Pastor. It worried me greatly.

  We cued up like we did every Sunday, one long line of people waiting to receive Pastor Graham's blessing before heading home. Mr. Jameson was in front of Mother and me, hobbling along with his cane. He was one of the success stories. A miner all his life, he'd actually lived to see retirement, and, while his old bones were gnarled and arthritic, he'd managed to avoid black lung or the cancer. It was a miracle. There weren't many men his age in town.

  And then it was our turn. My skin tingled as we stepped in front of the Pastor.

  “Mrs. Mayes,” Pastor Graham said. “Hope I wasn't too out of line with the announcement.”

  “Not at all, Pastor,” Mother said. He put a hand on her shoulder and she flushed.

  “Maggie,” he said, turning his attention to me.

  “Pastor Graham,” I said. I didn't know what I'd do if he touched me. Probably faint dead away. “It was a wonderful sermon.”

  “I'm happy you thought so,” he said. His voice was rich, flowing like honey from his mouth. His hand briefly touched my arm and I felt a stirring, down below, that I knew was my sinful nature trying to take hold. I maintained my composure and managed not to pass out, though.

  “Maggie, why don't you go talk to Danny over there,” Mother said. She pointed over toward the door, where my beloved was milling about in the crowd. “I want to discuss something with the Pastor.”

  “What is it, Barbara?” Pastor Graham said. I was already walking. I knew better than to defy Mother, especially in front of other people. They continued their conversation, but I could no longer make out what they were saying over the chatter of the rest of the parishioners.

  Danny was staring at his feet, again. I approached him and let out an exasperated sigh to get his attention.

  “Danny, the rest of the world is up here,” I said.

  “Maggie,” he said. He had a uniquely disarming manner, but he was never exciting, just there. “I didn't see you.”

  “I know,” I said, smiling. I looked down at his feet. “There something interesting on your toe?”

  “No,” he said, blushing. “Quit teasing.”

  “You know,” I said, wound up a little by the pastor and his speech. “If you can't deal with the teasing, maybe we shouldn't get married.”

  His jaw dropped and he stuttered. It was a cruel thing to do, Danny would never win a battle of wits, but I needed to blow off some steam and distract myself from sinful thoughts.

  “I'm kidding, silly,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. That was acceptable, although anything else was likely to invite stares from the prudish flock milling around us.

  “Okay,” he said. “Don't joke like that.”

  “No more. Promise,” I said. “So, are you working at the mine all day tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, but I'm off at five,” he said. “Maybe I can pick you up for dinner at Cora's?”

  “Sure, Danny,” I said. It was always the same, but that's what I got for dating a 'good' boy. “That sounds fine.”

  I turned away, looking for something to distract me from my dreadfully boring fiancee, and found myself face to face with Mother.

  “Maggie,” she said, looking around me and waving at Danny. “Hello, Danny.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Mayes,” Danny said, returning the wave.

  “We've got to get going, dear,” Mother said. “We're to have company for dinner.”

  “Really?”

  “Pastor Graham and Danny,” Mother said.

  “Oh,” I said, looking over my shoulder at Danny as Mother grabbed my arm and led me away. “Guess we'll be seeing each other sooner than we thought.”

  “Okay,” Danny said, waving. He really was a lunkhead.

  ***

  My mother was a wonderful cook. I wasn't half-again as good, but I was improving. The house smelled of baked ham, honey, and pineapple. It was a recipe
she'd found in some huge cookbook, but, as always, she'd embellished on it a bit. The results were always fantastic, so who was I to complain?

  I worked my way through the house with a feather duster. It seemed like the little figurines and nick-knacks Mother was so fond of found time to multiply overnight. My imagination got hold of me as I dusted off a pair of semi-nude statuettes and I envisioned them coming to life and embracing. This led to thinking about the other thing, the thing I'm not allowed to mention, ever, in Mother's company. I'd asked once, when I was little, about babies and some things I'd heard at school and Mother had grown angry. So angry that she paddled my butt bright red and sent me to my room. Daddy had only been gone for a few months, so I chalked it up to grief.

  The stirring I'd felt earlier, when Pastor Graham had touched me, came back with a vengeance. I looked to the kitchen, sure that Mother was watching me, that she knew what I was thinking. Her back was turned, and she was busy cleaning and peeling potatoes for supper. I went back to work, determined to keep those dirty thoughts from my mind. The rest of the house was easier, some nooks and cranny's that I had to stretch and contort to get to, but no more nude figures or distractions.

  I finished and headed upstairs to change. “Mother, I'm going to get ready,” I yelled from the foot of the stairwell. “Do you need me to do anything else?”

  “No, dear, go change,” she said. “We want you looking pretty for Danny this evening.”

  What she really meant to say is that she wanted me to impress the Pastor for her. That woman never gives up when she sets her sights on something, and she'd set her sights on Pastor Graham. God help him.

  The stairs creaked as I ascended, as old wood is inclined to do. It used to be creepy, when I was small, but now it was more familiar, almost comforting. The house was nearly part of the family, handed down from my grandparents to my parents and from their parents to them. I made the first left into my bedroom and closed the door.

  My dress was already laid out on the bed. Mother must have come up while I was still dusting. It wasn't my favorite, unfortunately, but it would do. It was a summer dress, pale yellow with white, frilly lace for trim. I thought it hung wrong, completely hiding my meager assets in a wave of bland fabric, but Mother liked the modesty of it. I sighed and stripped off my work clothes. I put them in the hamper. God help me if Mother ever found a piece of clothing on the floor.

  Dusting took a while, but it was hardly strenuous, and Mother didn't like incurring unnecessary costs, so another shower was out of the question. Instead, I stripped off my underwear, opened my dresser, and hunted for a new set. It wasn't difficult, they all looked the same.

  I caught sight of my naked form in the mirror and flinched. But I didn't turn away. I was in the flower of my youth. High, firm breasts, a flat tummy, and hips that were just wide enough for child birth. I'd always been taught to be ashamed of my body, but today I was fascinated by it. I wanted to know its secrets. I wanted someone to unlock them. I reached down and, for a brief moment, caressed my secret place. It felt so good as my finger slid along. I hit the little nub at the top and shivered, the pleasure washing over me, threatening to drown me in its flood. I pressed harder, biting my lip to keep myself from crying out.

  I closed my eyes, calling up a picture of Pastor Graham, dressed all in black, his thick forearms wrapped around my waist. I rubbed, slowly at first, as his lips met mine. His hands roamed my naked form, rough and callused against my soft skin. My legs shook as I rubbed harder, caught up in my fantasy. His lips were at my neck, sucking lightly at my throat and driving me wild with desire. I grew wet, willing myself to rub faster, to finish what I had started before I no longer had time to.

  It welled up inside me, insidious but sweet. A gentle pressure that begged to be released. I quickened my pace, gasping as my sinful thoughts led me down the path to damnation. My free hand flew out, grabbing at the dresser to steady myself as I climaxed. My legs shook and my body shuddered, fully in the thrall of my unclean desires. When it was over, I laid my head against the top of the dresser, too ashamed to move. What was I going to do? Then Mother yelled and I scurried into the bathroom to get cleaned up. Dinner would be soon.

  ***

  My dress flounced as I came down the stairs, still thinking about my shame. Mother smiled at me, a rare enough occurrence that I thought she might have suffered a stroke.

  “You look radiant, dear,” she said.

  “Thank you, Mother,” I said, blushing. I hoped that she would let the matter drop, as I feared that my base nature was the root cause of my radiance.

  “Come on. Help me get the table set,” she said, heading toward the kitchen. “They'll be here soon.”

  We worked efficiently. Mother handed me plates and silverware (the good stuff that she kept in the locked drawer) and I carried them over to the table, laying out four places over the old fashioned, red and white, checkerboard table cloth. I harassed Mother on a weekly basis to change it out, but she loved the thing. It had been a gift from my father, back when they were engaged to be married.

  Mother set to mashing the potatoes and the clunking sound filled the small kitchen. I drained the carrots and placed them in a bowl. The ham would finish cooking in another minute or two, and I wanted to make sure everything else was done first. Mother would let Pastor Graham carve it. That was traditionally the man's job, and Mother was nothing if not traditional.

  I placed the bowl of carrots on the table, careful to avoid the vase that Mother kept at the center. It had a spattering of wildflowers in it, mostly purple and white, but with a hint of red. It was one of her most cherished hobbies, running around in the woods behind the house and coming back with a bouquet.

  I held the pot as Mother scooped the potatoes into another bowl. The gelatinous, white mass was reluctant, however, and she nearly pulled the hot cookware out of my hands.

  “Pay attention, Maggie!” Mother said.

  “Yes, Mother.”

  The rest of our preparation was without incident, which surprised me, because Mother usually looked for any excuse to scold me. She buzzed around the table, straightening silverware here, spinning a plate there, and basically looking for anything she would deem out of place. Her neurosis made me nuts, but what choice did I have but to put up with it? She was my mother.

  The doorbell rang and we both hurried to the door. I took up station behind Mother and she put on her best, albeit fake, grin and opened the door.

  “Good evening,” she said, turning to get out of the way. “Please, come in and make yourselves at home.”

  “Evening, Barbara,” Pastor Graham said. He nodded to me. “Maggie.”

  Danny stared at his feet. I didn't know what to do with the boy, but at least he would be trainable.

  I led Danny to the table as Mother and Pastor Graham tended to the ham. We were to sit across from each other while the pastor and my mother occupied the two head positions. Supper with guests was a very formal affair, with all sorts of rules as to how the meal was conducted. Danny took his seat in silence. I shook my head, not really wanting to talk to him, anyway. It was going to be a rough marriage if he didn't loosen up a bit.

  I heard the rasp of steel on stone and looked over to the kitchen to see Pastor Graham sharpening the carving knife. I watched with rapt attention as he set about his task, precise and painstaking. Each cut was flawless and of nearly identical thickness. He had rolled his sleeves up, and the wanton beast within me stirred at the sight of his well muscled forearms. I thought back to my earlier sinning, and turned away, unwilling to tempt myself again so soon.

  “So, Danny,” I said. “What kind of plans are you making for our honeymoon?” I knew the answer, nothing much. We didn't have a whole lot of money for things like that.

  “Honeymoon?” Danny said.

  “Yes,” I said, smiling at him. “You know, that thing people do after they're married.”

  “Oh,” he said. He squinted, a sign that he was concentrating. “The cabin?
” The pastor had a nice, little log cabin with a ton of land a few miles from town. It was pretty, it had running water and electricity, and it would actually do nicely for some alone time. This was an arranged marriage, but, if I was going to be stuck with Danny, I'd like to actually get to know him. He was so quiet and shy that every conversation went like this one.

  It was cut mercifully short by Mother, who waddled over to the table with the ham. Pastor Graham followed her. She put the platter on the table and sat down. The pastor took his own seat and folded his hands together, bowing his head. The rest of us followed suit.

  “Dear Heavenly Father, we are gathered here today to share a fine meal and celebrate the joining of our two families. I ask, in your son Jesus' name, to bless Danny and Maggie, as they prepare to start their lives together in your service and to your glory. Thank you for the blessings you have given us, for our food and shelter, and please watch over all of us, as well as those who are not with us. In Jesus' name, we pray, Amen.”

  “Amen,” we said. I hoped that God would see fit to relieve me of the evil thoughts that plagued me, but just listening to the pastor speak brought them to the fore again.

  “Let's eat,” Pastor Graham said, his hand reaching for the serving fork.

  It was a good meal, interrupted by small talk, mostly between Pastor Graham and Mother. I chimed in here and there, but Danny was silent unless asked a direct question. I snuck glances at Pastor Graham, fascinated with what he was saying, or the peculiar way he dipped his ham in the mashed potatoes. He ate with gusto, seemingly enjoying every bite as if it were the last he would ever take. Danny couldn't be more different, playing with his food and only taking small bites every few minutes. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here.

  I should have been offended, after all, I was his bride to be But I wasn't, my thoughts were on another man. I felt like a scandalous wretch, secretly coveting my fiancee's father, but I was powerless in the face of my attraction. As dinner wore on, the need grew overpowering. I picked at my own meal, trying to find the right distraction, the perfect thing to take my mind off of Pastor Graham.