Reluctantly Deflowered by Pastor Graham

Reluctantly Deflowered by Pastor Graham

By Jo D. Smith

Smashwords Edition

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©
2013 Jo D.
Smith

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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.”