26/06/10  11:26 GMT

Carlotta—

Right. Couple of developments since yesterday, both mildly problematic. Work is required on more than one front. Well, it keeps a guy focused.

Neely called earlier, trying hard to sound calm and measured, but most definitely frayed underneath. I’m guessing the events of the past twenty-four hours have done much to unsettle her and that’s why she’s just cancelled our date. Oh she’s claiming church responsibilities, telling me lunch dates might better fit her schedule over the next few days, but clearly the Jonas business has rattled her conscience. The sight of her Christian comrade enjoying the carnal act (the brief glimpse I caught was of a guy plum delighted with his lot in life) must be scarily undermining. I managed to pin her down to some quality evening time, but she was talking in terms of next weekend.

Did I not know Neely so well, I might think she was trying to distance herself. However, there was nothing distant in her tone. This girl is so close to caving it terrifies her. She’s desperate to wrestle the situation back under control. And I’d be pleased with myself to the point of buying lubricant, were it not for that irritating second problem.

Jasmine has been trying to contact me. She left a message with a secretary at the Inquirer. Apparently the treacherous gal wants me to call her asap. Please don’t be so cheap as to cast my moment’s weakness back in my face. It’s a trifle and I’ll sort it out. I know how to deal with the Jasmines of this world. And the next chance I get, I’ll deal with Neely. I’ll write her something now that’ll send her into a tail-spin—one that’ll make wreckage of her chastity.

—Ray.

27/06/10  00:17 PST

Ray, Ray, Ray—the Jasmine time-bomb, still a-tickin’? Better diffuse it, or all your velvet prose will count for shit. You don’t seriously expect me to pass over it without a cursory mention, surely? I’m glad you think the situation’s under control; forgive me if I don’t share your confidence. I know the complexities of the female mind even better than you, my friend. Who knows how you’ll squash the slut’s over-active conscience?

My anger has dissipated, Raymond. I’m simply melancholic that my reward may have to be withheld. How I meant to lavish my favor on the debaucher of this pious Christian. But I’m not sure he’s living up to my hopes, or whether his nerve is as steely as his cock.

I rewarded my married lover tonight for his patience (that and the ruby earrings he gave me over lobster at a five-star restaurant). I’m still a touch sore from the encounter. You know, Ray? That good kind of sore. I was wearing the black-lace lingerie from the photo; it got him so heated last time. The drooling sap stood jacking himself as I removed it incrementally, tits and ass thrust out as I disrobed. Then when I was down to garter belt and stockings, I let him know I hadn’t forgotten my promise. His bliss was transcendent as I rubbed menthol lube over his cock. After that he watched me massaging oil into my buttocks, giving both firm globes a nice satin sheen. Pulling them apart and trickling warm liquid down my crack, till it leaked into my tight winking asshole.

He was glued, Ray, as I burrowed my middle finger two knuckles deep in my rectum—I peered back over my shoulder to get his reaction as I readied myself. “Your cock in here next, baby. But be a gentleman and fuck my pussy first.”

Such an eager puppy, even when kneeling to plunge that stout erection inside me with all the manliness he could muster. Pumping away, the busy boy, spreading that menthol freshness about my wet cunt. But I knew he was saving himself for the evening’s main action, so I let him hear the words he craved: “In my ass, baby, in my ass.”

I was positioned nicely before the dresser’s mirror, so I got to see the gratitude on his face as he sank inch after inch into my tight, gripping rectal tract, Ray. Nice, but so tentative, unlike other lovers of my acquaintance. “To the balls,” I was telling him, “push it deep and fuck my ass like you mean it!” It took all my urging to get him inside and cranked up to a decent rhythm. He came like he was about to flatline, such a thankful husband-of-someone-else.

It was an adequate anal shafting, I suppose. I might even let him up there again. Or I might save that clenching tunnel for someone who proves more deserving.

Shame you’re struggling with your Christian’s conscience. I had a mind to give it all up to you, Ray, every hole I have. Make myself utterly available. Let you dominate this bitch like she hasn’t allowed happen in a very long time. I was going to let you wreck my fucking ass.

My business trip to the UK is planned for two weeks’ time, did I mention that? Flight and hotel will be booked within days. If only I could shake the suspicion that you’ve jeopardized everything, I’d be one happy lady and I’d make you happy too.

Sweet Raymond, can you really bring this one home?

Carlotta.

27/06/10  8:01GMT

God, girl, you’re one piece of work. Have some faith. I play a superior endgame.

x

~~~~

Neely awoke longing for the weekend to be over. She had cried off Saturday’s youth-club, so desirous was she to avoid Jonas. What she might say to him she still had no clue, but she could hardly extend her fake illness to escape Sunday morning service. Her conscience had plenty else to cope with.

She was twenty-four hours clean of Sapphire’s Odyssey. Her Bavarian nightmare had broken that addiction, temporarily at any rate. But sinful thoughts crowded nonetheless, whether she was church planning, serving coffees or relaxing with her Battlestar Galactica boxset; even Edward James Olmos’ patrician sexiness disconcerted her.

The night had been another dream-ridden torture. Now she was staving off Ray-fantasies as she fumbled for her bathrobe. It had felt horrible to postpone their date, confining time together safely within daylight hours. She felt like she was provoking him with her body then backing off, a worse tease than any of her sexually active friends, Jasmine included. It was a notion which only grew when she read the email Ray had sent her earlier that morning. Even its innocuous title ‘Sunday Thoughts’ sped up her heart rate as she clicked on it.

27/6/10  8:47 GMT

Hey there angel—

Missed you last night, hope it was mutual. I’ve been subject lately to lonely nocturnal imaginings of a none-too-holy variety. I hope it’s not presumptuous to suppose that you’re plagued by thoughts akin to mine? I’m guessing that’s why you cancelled last night.

Which are you more frightened of, Neely, me or yourself? I feel sometimes that the passion we jointly experience threatens either to compromise your beliefs, or to warp your perception of what exists between us. So I wonder if there’s a middle ground, where we can still find ways of exploring and satisfying each other physically. Surely that’s not a sin.

You know how I burn for you, with desire and with lust. Sometimes I want to make love to you, sometimes take you, straight and simple. I don’t say that to shock. I think you should know what a beautiful sexual human being you are.

Don’t be frightened, Neely. I’d rather have your chaste company than not have you at all. And in truth there’s a sort of pained deliciousness in being denied free rein with your body. But consider what I’ve said. And consider, next weekend, coming round to mine and bringing those oils. I have very good hands and I know how to take my time. All the more if it’s to make you feel good—and I’d make you feel so very good.

Ray x

It left her breathless and confounded, with a racing pulse. She read it again—every nipple-pricking, panty-soaking word—to take it all in and try to fathom the mind behind it. Rules were being, if not broken, subverted and twisted into something for which she had not bargained. There was sincerity, she could sense it, but there was artfulness too, dammit there was outright cunning. His words were like ivy insinuating its way through her defences, prising at them. All his protestations that he would never cross the boundaries she had laid down … She should feel mad at him, right? And yet how could she when only her guilt prevented her from breaking into a huge girlish grin? (That and plunge her hand down her knickers to get herself off?) How could she when he seduced her with such daring and grace?

Seduced … She was being gloriously, wickedly seduced. Her lovely patient guy was also a horny male who burned for her. Who wanted to take her and not like she was a piteous ‘be-gentle-with-me’ kind of virgin. No, her boyfriend wanted to do her. To his word he was still fundamentally true. He hadn’t suggested sex, but he hoped to play, explore, make her “feel so very good”. It made her want to spin around the room and throw herself voluptuously onto the bed, only to that urge she couldn’t give in. She mustn’t give in. Hell, she had church to go to and she was late!

Padding to the bathroom, she caught a snatch of phone conversation from Jasmine’s bedroom. It was not the first time she had overheard her friend in such fraught discussion. “Yeah, I know it just happened. I’m not saying you meant it to any more than I did. But it’s on my mind all the time … Mm-hm, yes, I get what you’re saying. … I understand, but … No, no I haven’t said anything. I’m worried that you’re going to do the same thing again with … I know, I know, look—I’m in no place to judge, but …”

Neely realised she was eavesdropping and hurried the rest of the way to the bathroom. So she and Jasmine were both having man-problems of a type. Her housemate’s were apparently more acute than normal; that would account for the girl’s secret attitude of recent days.

Jasmine’s sexual misdemeanours slipped from Neely’s mind when she hit the shower. Her head was full of Ray’s email as she stripped off and lathered up. What a tease, to have inspired this play for her body’s delights. There was guilt once more at causing such torment, but she was glowing too in her wet nakedness, with self-satisfaction. Never had she thought herself such a sex-goddess till now.

Every wash-time sensation heightened as she imagined Ray spying. Her breasts responded as her palms soaped in slow circles. Shampoo slithered all down her back’s curve, foaming its way between her bum cheeks. What a vision for her boy—red hair trailing slick down her back towards her soapy ass-crack. The naughtiness of the exhibitionist fantasy overtook her and she dropped a hand to her pussy, middle finger going to work on her clitoris. She leaned into the shower-wall as the tip rotated on the swollen hub of her longing.

Lord, she had been free with her sex these past few days. Evenings fused thoughts of Sapphire and Ray with the buzz of her birthday gift (on her exterior only; how wrong that the first cock inside her should be synthetic). Now here she was, one hour shy of morning service, working herself all the way till she exploded with orgasm, shower jets bursting against her sensitized skin. She slumped into relief and wretchedness, then forced her wrung-out self to dry and dress for church.

She stuck her head around Jasmine’s door before departing; self-absorption mustn’t blind her to her friend’s troubles. “Jaz, you okay?”

“God, Neely, I thought you were off to church already,” the petite brunette said. “Aren’t you late?”

“Leaving now. Look, I heard you on the phone earlier. Wasn’t listening in, I promise. Everything all right?”

“What? Yes, yes. It’s … Bit of …”

“Guy trouble? Whoever he is, he’s not worth it. You’re way better than that, but you’ve got to start believing it.” Jasmine had a forlorn look Neely wasn’t used to. “Jaz, I want you back. I’ve got friends I’ve known for years behaving like crazy. I need some consistency. I miss it when you don’t take the piss out of me.”

Jasmine swallowed, trying to gain control of her emotions. “I’m … I’m fine. It’s only some … It’s over. It’s sorted. You’ve got me back, I promise.”

Neely hugged her roommate, almost convinced. “Well that’s a relief at any rate. Look, we’ll talk later, okay?”

What she had said was true. She needed Jasmine back, so off-centre seemed everything at Alton Bridge. When she arrived late and squeezed herself in at the back, Jonas was leading a prayer. She felt a burst of anger, which immediately rebounded on her. Who the hell was she to point a finger following her shower-stall shenanigans? Then Pastor Simmons stood up to speak on Christ’s parable of the Sheep and the Goats—“I was hungry and you fed me, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink”—and made her feel worse. Why get so hung up on sex when there were real problems in the world:  poverty and starvation, war and homelessness? All that preoccupation with what she perceived as her ‘needs’.

A powerful thought indeed but overridden the moment she bumped into Jonas after the service and recalled Leona bouncing lustily on his cock. Joy had been etched into both their faces. She and her co-worker could scarcely look at each other, but then the pastor swept them up, full of bonhomie. “So—Neely, Jonas, everything shaping up for next weekend? I’m sure you two are cooking up something impressive.”

Neely’s and Jonas’ eyes flicked into contact. “Yes.” Neely forced a smile. “It’s all coming together, right Jonas?”

“Yup, great. All sorts of ideas. You’ll like it.”

Jonas leaned in confidentially to Neely once the pastor had stepped away. “We can get through these workshops, right?”

“Sure, whatever. I studied drama at school. I’m sure I can pull off a performance.”

Jonas went to speak, but she left him standing. She was through the church gates and headed solo for the High Street before she was caught up. But the restraining hand on her arm did not belong to Jonas. It was Leona’s.

“Neely, wait up.”

Neely was taken aback by the shapely teen’s pursuit. The image of that fleshy ass shunting up and down on Jonas’ upright column flashed instantly to mind. “Leona, what do you …”

“Look …” The college girl launched straight in. “I know you’re really mad at Jonas, but you mustn’t be. Don’t go thinking he went and seduced some innocent girl, because it wasn’t like that. It’s bad you saw us like you did, and maybe it was all wrong of us to choose that place, but it’s not sleazy and horrible like you probably think.”

Neely fought and failed to stem the words which flowed in response. “Leona, don’t try and explain anything. If it was anybody else, I’d say go on—live your life, follow your conscience and I’ll follow mine and we’ll all be happy. I’d probably laugh about the other night. But you guys are my fellow-believers. Jonas is my co-worker. We’re talking to the youth group next week about sexual morality and a year ago you were one of that group! It’s messed-up. I don’t blame you, but what he’s doing is way out of order.”

“That’s wrong. That’s all wrong,” Leona insisted. “I’m not stupid, Neely. Don’t dismiss me because I’m nineteen. I’m pretty damn mature for my age and Jonas cares for me. He does, don’t pull a face. Way before we first … you know, I knew he was a good guy. I dated a couple of guys at school who treated me badly.” Her expression darkened. “One in particular. Then I got involved with the church and … I’d never met someone like him before. He’s a really great person, Neely, like you’ve always thought of him. Don’t let what you saw change all that. He’s a really sweet boyfriend, kind and considerate. He makes me feel cared for and respected and … and if I want to show him my gratitude, then I will.”

“Is that what you were doing? Showing gratitude? Leona, you don’t have to shag him because he’s nice to you.”

“I don’t.” Leona bristled. She fixed Neely with a bold stare. “I do it because I like to. I enjoy it. For me. And yes, I like putting a great big blissed-out smile all over his face, because he deserves it. We’re a couple and that’s part of what we do. And it doesn’t feel wrong, it doesn’t feel sinful.”

“But you … You can’t decide what’s sinful and what’s not based on how you feel. That’s not how it works!”

“Look, Neely, I’m not trying to be mean when I say this. I’ve always liked you and I know Jonas thinks the world of you, whatever you’re feeling right now. But we can’t all be as saintly as you.”

“I’m not saintly. I’ve never pretended to be saintly—”

“Although until two nights ago we both kind of thought you might be … you know, doing it with Ray.”

“You thought …”

“We met him that night we went bowling? He’s, well, he’s not any kind of Christian. He’s, you know, a man of the world and he’s … he’s hot. We figured …”

“Well you figured wrong!”

“Yeah, well, so it turns out. God, Neely, he must really be into you.”

Neely stopped short. “What do you mean?”

“He’s still there, isn’t he? Even though you don’t …” She filled in the gap with a flick of her head. “…With him. He’s a guy, Neely, he fancies the pants off you, it was obvious that night. He must really be suffering, but he’s still around.”

“Leona …”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ve said too much. That’s no business of mine. But look …” There was pleading in her eyes. “Go easy on Jonas. He’s the most Christian guy I’ve ever met. I mean that, whatever you think of what we do. He doesn’t want to lose your friendship and he wants to be able to keep working with you. Think it through. That’s all I ask.” She clutched Neely’s arm a moment. “I … I’ve got to go. See you.”

And she left, leaving Neely struggling to retain her indignation. It was difficult, when reminded of her history with Jonas. And at the thought of Ray struggling manfully with his fleshly urges. But then if her non-believing boyfriend could manage, why couldn’t Jonas? Because Jonas’ girlfriend isn’t so ‘saintly’, an unhelpful part of her brain suggested.

Neely couldn’t think who to discuss it with. Jasmine and Leo would encourage her to get laid, while her Alton Bridge friends would quote the Bible with advanced levels of earnestness. Jonas had been the one she could depend on for empathy and counsel minus the piety. She couldn’t be hard on him for succumbing to temptations she felt all too strongly herself. But how could he be so blasé in the aftermath? Shrug off the sex issue that had pitched her into so much turmoil?

Turmoil… The word summoned up a conversation she’d had days before and suddenly she knew who to talk to. In one sense it was bizarre, but it simultaneously clicked as perfect sense. She dug into her bag and retrieved a calling card she hadn’t thought of since her birthday. Then without hesitation she took her phone and thumbed in the number.

Her call rang out a couple of times before being answered. “Hello?”

“Danny?”

“Yeah, hi. Who’s this?”

“It’s Neely Jordan. From Alton Bridge? We met in the bookshop last week.”

“Neely, hi.” Danny Woodward sounded surprised but not displeased to hear from her. “How are you? You’ve been thinking about the fair-trade stuff?”

“No, well yes, a little. But that’s not the main reason I’m calling. Look, I’ve … I’ve got something on my mind and frankly I didn’t know who else to talk to. I thought you might … Gosh, this sounds really weird.”

“No, really, it’s not weird. You want to meet up?”

“Yes, that would be good. Better than the phone. When’s good for you? I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Not today. Church-worker no more, so this afternoon’s fine. I was going to watch some football, but I can scratch that. What about lunch at Mackenzie’s?”

“With the big screen TV?” Neely couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ll be watching the match over my shoulder.”

“Damn, rumbled. We’ll eat outside on the patio. Then you’ll have my undivided attention. They do really good scampi there by the way.”

“I’ll try it. See you there … what, around two?”

He agreed.

Making her way to Mackenzie’s Neely felt apprehension at hooking up with the guy she had inadvertently insulted. She found him reclining in the beer garden which overlooked the harbour. He had a rumpled weekend look about him, dark hair tousled, and a razor having failed again to find his chin. The stubble rather enhanced his swarthy good looks. He had a long body, and his understated muscularity was shown off well by his faded tee-shirt. A pint foamed in front of him. “What can I get you?” His sense of welcome allayed her fears.

“Glass of cider would be nice, thanks.”

“Scampi for two?”

“Yes. Please.”

He returned with her drink, and they stretched out, jeaned and tee-shirted in the June sunshine. “You’ve probably rescued me from watching Bristol City get thumped by Torquay United, so I consider this an act of mercy.”

“Glad to have helped out. You happy Sunday’s not a workday anymore?”

“Yes, ‘cos the rest of the week’s bloody mental. I make my own work and reap the whirlwind that results.”

They swapped professional stories and partook of the pub’s battered shrimp. Neely gradually relaxed into Danny’s company as summer breeze and noise of harbour traffic wafted over them. “What, you take hot sauce with your scampi?”

“Essential. Try it.” He proffered the bottle and she applied, tentatively sampling the result.

“Yow!” The result was a flavourful kick. “Wow, that is good.”

“See? I knew you’d be a woman of taste.”

Neely munched for a moment, downing cider to help her cope with the burn in her throat. Then she broached the subject which continued to niggle. “Danny, look—I’m sorry I said what I did last week. I had no business.”

“And I’m sorry I teased.” She recalled the excruciating vibrator moment and diverted her eyes. Gosh, maybe that episode was the reason he had been so amenable about lunching with her. “You know I was sort of surprised you were keen to meet up with such a social leper in public,” he said. “What would people think if they saw you fraternising with a reprobate like me?”

“Stop that. You’re teasing again,” she protested, although uncomfortable thoughts to that effect had occurred to her on the way.

“I’m not. I’m serious. It’d be understandable in your position if you wanted to go somewhere more discrete. The last thing I’d want to do is cause you trouble. I mean that.”

“I choose who I want to see and where.” She was making the point more to herself. “Look, Danny, I’m the one who wanted to talk, and I’m not going have us hide away somewhere to do it. I made a judgement about you last time based on ... gossip. I embarrassed myself.”

“I don’t think either of us was behaving at our best that day. Besides, I’ve a feeling what you said was more to do with your own stuff than anything you’d heard about me. Am I right?” His dark eyes were searching, yet there was something in them essentially kind. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

Neely gulped. “Wow, you’re good.”

“Spooky, isn’t it? Go on then, tell me. Before you chicken out.”

Okay, here goes. Gotta share this with someone. “I met a guy. Not from the church, not from any church. I mean I’ve tried dating there and … it hasn’t worked out the way I always think it should.”

“Been there, trust me.”

She sensed enough empathy in the words to continue. “You think that a shared faith and shared attraction should be enough, but sometimes it isn’t. And then this bloke walks into my work, my café job. Not a believer, professing no spirituality whatsoever, but … we clicked. We get along like a house on fire. And … he’s hot. As a house on fire. Nor is he dismissive of my beliefs, in fact it’s the reverse—he’s really respectful. About everything. I mean, I really, really like this guy.”

“All of which is good, right?” Danny chewed on the shrimp, his eyes never leaving hers.

“Well, yes. I mean, there’s no sense of our relationship undermining anything I believe or hold important. Apart from on one level.” She paused, struggling to go further.

Danny dropped his voice and leaned in due to a hovering waitress. “And that would be the ‘sex level’, right?”

It was a relief he’d said it for her, but she still couldn’t meet his eye in that moment. The weirdness of confessing to a virtual stranger had almost robbed her of speech. “Yeah. Yeah, it would. Not that he’s pushing me. As such. I mean I know he’d like to, he’s made that clear, but he’s … not expecting. He’s not making it a condition in the slightest. He’s a gentleman.”

“So if the problem’s not with him …” Danny regarded her with complete seriousness. She bloomed into crimson under his stare. “It’s what you want that’s troubling you.”

She sank back into her chair in misery. “Yes, it is. It totally is. It’s really difficult. I mean, it was tough before, but I felt in control. Now I’m … It feels like I’m struggling to cling on to values and practices I’ve held all my life.”

Once she’d started, the words flowed more easily. She told him all about her progressively more heated encounters with Ray (skirting the erotic details), right up to her unexpected transgression on the evening of her birthday. “I ended up doing something I’d never have dreamt of a few short weeks before.”

“Did that involve your new …”

“No, no, no, gosh no!” She thought she caught amusement in his glance. “Are you messing with me, Danny? Don’t mess with me. That’s not what I expected from you, that’s not why I’m here.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t making fun. I’m listening. Go on.”

She wondered if he was picturing her riding the vibrator’s throb and her blush deepened. However, she continued—told him, omitting names, about the shock over Jonas and how greatly the scene had flummoxed her. “We’d always talked it over together, laughed about the frustration and how best to deal with it, but now he’s acting like it meant nothing, like the whole thing’s no big deal. While I’m all over the place. I can’t find a way to cope with this. I’m not planning on breaking it off, I can’t, I like Ray way too much. Wow, I don’t believe I’m telling you all this … But I can’t give in to what I’m feeling either. The whole thing’s—”

“Filling your head all the waking day,” Danny finished for her, and she knew this time he wasn’t being funny. He leaned further in, voice dropping, frown deepening. “To say nothing of nights. Messing up your job and everything that goes with it. You’ve got your faith and all the problems around you, the ones you’ve dedicated yourself to alleviating through living out your beliefs. All that important stuff. Only you can’t focus on it anymore because your own desires are threatening to consume you. Like your body’s cravings mean more that all else put together. You know how … how fucked that is when you look at it rationally, but that doesn’t help you when you’re alone in your bed at three a.m. or when you’re face to face with the someone who’s got you so fired up … Something like that?”

Neely stared into Danny’s eyes, his words resonating like a sharply struck gong. “Yes. Exactly like that.” She scrutinised his face and noticed a haunted quality similar to the one she’d seen it wear in the bookshop. “I figured you’d understand.”

“Just a bit.”

“Danny, can you tell me what happened to you at Alton Bridge?”

He stared at her appraisingly a moment. “Not something I generally talk about.”

“It’s okay then. I’d no real right to ask.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind you knowing. Somehow I’d like you to.”  His hands closed around his pint, and he looked into it, gathering himself pre-telling. “I’d been preaching at the church a couple of years when the whole thing went down. Woops, bad choice of phrase. When the whole thing occurred.” He brushed away the accidental double entendre with a gesture of his hand and she could not help but smile. “I had the whole celibacy thing sorted out, so I thought, even though I’d been sexually active in my student days before I embraced Christianity. And it took some serious self-control not to dwell on those times. Bad enough I’m sure if you’ve never indulged, all the tougher if you’ve got memories of what it’s really like.”

Neely could only imagine the intensity of that struggle. She listened, amazed to be made privy to the dark secrets of Alton Bridge’s legendary defiler.

“Anyway,” he told her, “I did a bit of discreet dating with girls in church circles, nothing that led to anything serious. There was never any strong connection, and I was ready to wait, not rush into marriage because I was desperate to get laid. I was committed to Christ, the church, the kids and teens—paragon of godly virtue. But I got too cocky. Damn …” He rolled his eyes. “Got to stop that. Make that over-confident.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to censor yourself.”

“All right, then I won’t.”  There was gratitude in his voice; so the notorious ex-Pastor Danny was discomfited by confiding in her. “The trouble started when a girl—attractive girl—showed up at the church professing interest in the faith and I agreed to drop in some night and talk it all through with her.” 

“Oh-oh, I think I see the plot twist.”

“Maybe, maybe not. You see she wasn’t alone. She had a friend there. And neither was much interested in Bible study. I’d walked into a very carefully prepared set-up.”

Neely’s eyes widened. She imagined the man before her strolling into a Sapphire-style scenario. “Oh wow. And you … lost your cool and went along with it? Every man’s fantasy and all that?”

“No, I didn’t.” He clutched his pint harder. “I struggled to get out. You have to believe me I did, as soon as the alarm started sounding in my head. But they got the jump on me. Literally. It’s tricky to describe, but there was rope involved and the element of surprise. I’m not making this up,” he insisted, prompted by her growing look of incredulity. “They had it all very well-planned and I ended up … Good God, is it any wonder I never talk about this? It’s all so bloody ludicrous. I ended up restrained. On a bed. Very securely too—these girls knew what they were doing. And, well …” He wore a lob-sided grin to counter his embarrassment. “… The pious youth pastor got used as their plaything all night. I know … I know how it all sounds. I can only assure you that’s how it happened.” His voice was thick with a kind of pained arousal and the muscles in his arms were knotted tense.

Neely was speechless a moment. The image of this good-looking man being subjected to sexual torments by a pair of wicked young women was very distracting. “Danny …” she almost laughed in her astonishment. “You make it sound like they raped you.” His face drained of all humour and he could not meet her eye. “Danny?”

“Call it what you like. I don’t think I’m ready to divulge any further details about that particular night, if you don’t mind. Suffice to say the experience stayed with me. Drove me insane for weeks. With lust and with guilt in equal measure. I was angry with them, I was angry with myself for being so naïve, I was racked with remorse …”

“But if it wasn’t your fault …”

“… For enjoying it. For loving every hot second of it, even though it screwed me up so much. I kept craving all the sensations I’d felt, to the extent I couldn’t focus on my work. I kept thinking of both girls, one of them in particular, and then she showed up at the church one night. That night. The fatal night. Showed up in the prep room when it seemed everyone else had gone home. She wanted to …” He laughed somewhat bitterly at the memory. “… To apologise. To explain that it had all been meant as some kind of benign game. That her friend had put her up to it. I got furious with her, then I got raging hot for her, with her, and … and—”

“In walked Pastor Simmons,” Neely finished in awe.

“With quite immaculate timing. And that, Neely, was the end of my time at Alton Bridge Community Church, even as yours began.”

There was an extended pause as she took it all in. Her breathing had turned shallow, and her nipples hard. The crotch of her knickers was thoroughly, inappropriately wet. “So,” he said, leaning brawny arms on the table and challenging her with the stare of a man still shadowed by his past, “what do you think of that?”

“Wow. I think I’m kind of stunned. Did you … Did you see the girl afterwards?”

“Yeah, for a while. We had a brief … not quite sure you’d call it a relationship. It was intense, whatever it was. And almost purely physical. But it was doomed from the start. Because of its start.”

“I’ll bet.” She took a moment to let the revelation sink in. Then there was something more she needed to know, however selfish it felt to pursue the issue. “So since then, since reorganising your whole life, and tell me to butt out if I’m being a nosey cow, have you given celibacy another shot? Or was that it?”

“I’m flattered you assume the opportunities are there for me.” He grinned and she pulled a face in return. Surely he was under no illusion regarding the pull he might have with the opposite sex. “Neely, there was no going back,” he said with a shrug. “Psychologically at any rate. I’d been so strung-out by abstinence I swore I was never going to do that to myself again.” He picked up on what was clearly registering on her face. “That not what you wanted to hear?”

“I don’t know what I wanted to hear.”

“I didn’t simply kick the whole thing into touch,” he told her, “although after Hailey—the church girl—I’ll admit I went a bit mad. Figured I might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, so I went and indulged in a few one-nighters. God, how much am I sharing this afternoon?” She gave him a reassuring pat on the arm, he looked so physically racked from sharing. “But that wasn’t for me. Couldn’t deal with it. Messed with my head too much. I hooked up with a Dutch girl, Marieka, last summer, she was over here working with the YMCA. Had a rather more liberated attitude to Christian faith than I’d ever had. We took a shot at keeping it going when she went back to Holland, but it didn’t work out. While we were together, though, she tried to help me work things through.”

“I’ll bet she did.” Neely’s reproving smile broke into a full grin once he returned it. She was surprised to find how much she liked Danny Woodward, the debaucher of Alton Bridge.

 “Look,” he said, “I didn’t abandon my faith. It changed, but it still motivates me. I’ve had to … re-evaluate my priorities though.”

 “But … But isn’t that another way of saying you’ve …”

“What, changed the rules to suit myself?” She nodded. That was exactly what she’d meant. “I don’t know. Maybe. All I know is it felt easier to deal with the guilt than pursue the same struggle as before. It was a relief to make other things my focus, not chase the type of purity that was always being preached at Alton Bridge. Including by me,” he added, before she could rush to Pastor Simmons’ defence. “But Neely, I’ve got to say it … The sort of pressure being put on the youngsters there, the weight of guilt, was all out of proportion. Look, perhaps I shouldn’t have been so dismissive of Jack Simmons when we met before, but the stuff he tells those kids sometimes is crazy. He announced from the pulpit once that having pre-marital sex was like crucifying Christ all over again. Word for word. I had Lacy Richards sobbing to me after the service, distraught, thinking she was some kind of executioner. You can’t condone that sort of thing, surely.”

“Of course I don’t,” Neely insisted. “Look, I know he can go too far at times. But that’s a long way from deciding you can go out and do what you feel. I don’t mean you,” she added hastily. “I mean us. Everyone. Me.”

“You really want to be with this guy, don’t you?” Danny said softly. “In the Biblical sense.”

“Mm-hm.”

“But the Bible, ironically, tells you that you can’t.”

“Yup.”

“So do you accept everything the Bible tells you, Neely, chapter and verse?” She raised her head to look at him. “You’re a sharp girl. Have you never wrestled with any of the teachings you’ve been brought up with?”

“Well, yes. All the time.”

“For example?”

He would push, wouldn’t he? How weird to be immersed in this discussion with someone she hardly knew, on a balmy June afternoon. “The doctrine of Hell. Doesn’t fit with my idea of a loving God. And the whole exclusivity thing where belief in Jesus and going to Heaven are concerned. Like Ghandi and the Dalai L’ama are shut out because they’re not ‘born again’. And the teaching that homosexuality is innately sinful. That my friend Leo is condemned because he’s in love with someone called Graham. I suppose I’m not orthodox on any of that stuff.” She looked at Danny warily, sensing what was coming.

“So if you question all that, why can’t you make your own decision on how you conduct your love-life? Why do you need a book, however holy, to do it for you?”

“Because … Because everything I’ve mentioned can be explained as a matter of Scriptural interpretation. But the whole teaching on sex—its meaning, its sacredness—that doesn’t go away, however you try to read it. I can’t bypass it simply because I’ve got the hots for someone.”

“What if you both care about each other, love each other? What if there’s a genuine bond between you but marriage isn’t practical yet?”

“So what? You’re saying I should go sleep with Ray?”

Danny raised his hands in defence. “Neely, I’m not saying anything. I’ve sweat enough over my own moral choices without trying to make someone else’s. You’ve got to work that one out yourself. But I don’t like to see you tormenting yourself in the process. I know all too well what that’s like.”

It was enough for Neely that he understood. Enough to be going on with.

They passed on to lighter subjects like family and movies and creative use of spicy condiments till she had to go. She was relieved not to be discussing sex any more with this amiable handsome guy. “I’m meeting some of the older teens about the Homeless Project,” she explained. “Look, thanks for scampi and for listening. Hey, I really would like to get some of the youth interested in fair trade. I’ll give you a shout about it.”

She’d almost gone when he called after her. “Neely … This Ray, he is worth all the angst, right?”

“Yeah, he is,” she said, then added sadly, “I wonder if I’m worth his. Bye, Danny. And thanks. Thanks so much. Take care. See you.”

~~~~ 

“Hey Lord, thanks. Thanks for Danny—getting to know him some. Finding out he’s not a demon walking in our midst after all. And it’s good to know I’m not the only one who’s ever felt this. Although I’m sorry he went the direction he did after it all happened. Wish he’d stayed a bit more orthodox, not decided to give in so completely. Not that I blame him. I so don’t blame him. And not that I’m saying he did the right thing either. But … I mean … do you blame him? Has he really done anything that terrible after what he went through? Okay, in the church and all that, but … church, car, bedroom … It’s the act, not the place. So has he really sinned so badly? He seems pretty together, but I could see the hurt still there. I mean, it was tangible. No one should be made to feel like that because they couldn’t live up to …

“I know, I know, I’m justifying again. Using him when I’m really thinking of me. I won’t go there. I won’t. I promise. There, you have it. Firm promise. I’m not going to that place with Ray. Not that I was intending to. But then you know that, right?”

Neely’s wrangle with her Maker, following the Danny chat, was precursor to another internal debate, one which did not form itself into words so clearly. The snare in which the youth pastor had been trapped she must avoid, but did that mean she should do violence to her and Ray by breaking off their relationship? Did that mean endlessly frustrating him when maybe she could—well—help him out a bit? Her situation was far from the one which had embroiled Danny, leaving him at the mercy of female sex-predators. She only had her respectful boy to deal with. So if she could turn around his weekend plan, make it safer for herself, maybe she could reward him for his longsuffering, not to mention indulge herself. Better than running mad with longing.

She developed this line of thinking over several days, ideas occurring during her battery-operated night-time experiments. Imagined couplings with Ray were supplemented by images of Sapphire and her many lovers, of Jonas and Leona, of Danny with his sweet tormentor in the church’s back-room. Quite the erotic kaleidoscope. She toned down her plans afterwards, once she had shuddered to exhausted stillness on her bed, rendering them more acceptable to her hurting conscience.

Neely was not sure of her scheme’s fine details, in truth she scarcely dared work them out. A dozen times she convinced herself it was not a scheme so much as idle fantasising from which she could repent in prayer-time. But she still arrived at her mid-week picnic date armed with a clear suggestion for Ray.

“That idea you had about the massage …” They were lying together on a blanket staring at scattered cloud on a blue sky. The distant shouts of infants echoed across them from Clifton Downs.

“You on for it?” he asked lightly, stroking her hair.

“Mm-hm, but I’m swapping it around.” Her heart stepped up its pace. She felt daring, even wanton, in broaching the idea. “You come around to mine. And you’re not massaging me.”

“I’m not?”

“No, I’m going to do you. Massage you I mean.”

“I get it. You’re sure we’re not going to do each other? Massage, I mean.”

Neely’s whole body lit with desire; she allowed the sensation to fade before speaking again. “No. Strict hands-off policy for you, Mister. Saturday night you’re in my hands. We can spread out in the living-room. Get comfy.” Gosh, for a moment she sounded like a proper seductress.

“Jasmine not going to be around then?”

“No, I’ve already hinted you might be visiting. She said she’d make herself scarce. Was really insistent we have the place to ourselves.”

“In that case,” he said lazily, “I’ll look forward to it.”

Neely wondered what he thought she had in mind. She didn’t even have the answer to that herself.

TO BE CONTINUED