Message-ID: <43220asstr$1057266603@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <20030703151119.66027.qmail@web20506.mail.yahoo.com> From: Kalisha Connors MIME-Version: 1.0 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 3 Jul 2003 08:11:19 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} A Visitor at St. Peter's {Kalisha Connors} (MF) Date: Thu, 3 Jul 2003 17:10:03 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, dennyw Carson first noticed her during the gospel procession at St. Peter's Episcopal. As the acolytes and Father Kedley walked to the center of the aisle, carrying the oversized Bible, the whole congregation stood and turned to face the middle of the church. She was in the very last row. She was a tall woman with long flaming red hair, wearing a black dress. The neckline of the dress was scooped and showed a trace of cleavage. The dress fit so tightly that in profile Carson could just make out the slight bump of a nipple. Below the hem and above the edge of an old pew flashed a glimpse of pale thigh. Father Kedley read from the gospel of John. "And the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us," he read. Carson wasn't paying a lot of attention. Who would wear a dress like that to church? he wondered. The contrast fascinated him. He had been to dance clubs and ignored women as beautiful and more provocatively dressed, but this was different. To see the woman in the black dress, he had to look right past prim Mrs. Venable, in her flower print with the Peter Pan collar. The reading of the gospel ended, and the procession made its way back to the front of the church. The woman turned forward. For a moment, he thought she had seen him staring, but in that same moment he realized that not only the woman but the entire congregation had turned, and that he should turn with them. He sat through the sermon, his back to her. She could slip out while he dutifully faced the large wooden cross in the front, and he'd never know. Perhaps even now, an usher was very quietly telling her to leave-- no. They might think her out of place, but they would never go that far. During the exchanging of the peace, he saw Mrs. Venable turn as if to greet the young lady, and then simply shake her head without offering a hand. The choir sprang up from their seats in back and mingled in with the congregation, but ignored the woman in black. Father Kedley glad-handed his way down the aisle, but didn't make it as far as the back. Carson shook a half-dozen familiar hands, but felt that walking six pews down in order to greet the stranger would be too prone to misinterpretation. The woman simply stood and watched the proceedings, her hands folded in front of her. When Carson took communion, he was at the far end of the altar rail, and the woman in the black dress was in the center. She took the bread and the wine with reverence. "The body of Christ," intoned Father Kedley as he served the host to Carson, who realized that his mind was on the wrong body. As the organist played the postlude, Carson watched the woman enter the center aisle even as he did, six pews behind her. She was wearing heels, he noticed. He was unsure he had ever seen stiletto heels that high on a woman. Without those four inches of heels adding to the height of her leg, he would never have been able to see the edge of her skirt and the bare thigh beneath when she had stood for the gospel. She walked out of the church with ease, unaffected by the heels. Behind him, Carson could hear a woman tsk-tsk at something; he assumed the target of her disapproval was the woman in the black dress. His assumption was confirmed when he heard her husband dutifully agree. "Scandalous." She shook the hand of the priest solemnly. Father Kedley smiled as always, but Carson thought that he looked a trifle uncomfortable. He was too far away to hear if she complimented him on his sermon. He rather doubted that she would stay for coffee hour, so he tried to hurry, sidling past a conversation that was blocking the aisle. Even so, she had been out of his sight for a half minute when he told the pastor, "Nice sermon." "Thank you," said Father Kedley. Carson hurried on. "Carson!" said big Bob Hart after Carson had managed four steps. He wasn't quite blocking the way, but Carson would have had to dodge around him to continue. "Hmm?" asked Carson, stopping with regret. "Great job on the windows," said Bob. Carson had cleaned the windows in the Sunday school hall the previous Friday. "It was so much brighter for the kids. Just great." Carson smiled at Bob. Bob was a wonderful guy, always doing a lot for the church, and making sure that everyone else who pitched in felt appreciated. "Thanks, Bob," he said. Bob stood there for a moment, and Carson thought he was going to continue the conversation, but instead he moved aside. Carson continued forward. She's probably all the way through the fellowship hall by now, he thought. But if I hurry, I might catch a glimpse of her as she gets in her car. Carson hurried into the hall, past the table where coffee and cookies waited, to the window. He scanned the parking lot, but didn't see her. She must've driven off. "What are you looking for, Carson?" asked Mrs. Venable. "Nothing really," he said, smiling briefly at her. She shrugged and moved on. He turned, bent over the table, and picked out a chocolate chip cookie from the assortment on the table. When he straightened he noticed the woman in the black dress, standing alone in a corner of the hall, sipping coffee. There was a cookie in her hand. The myriad conversations around him faded to babble. He crossed the hall to talk to the pretty outcast. "Hi," he said, "I'm Carson." "Kristin," she said. Her lips were cherry red, sharp contrast with the ivory whiteness of the smile she gave him. Other than her lipstick, she wore no makeup. He nibbled his cookie, trying to think of what to say next. She rescued him. "It was a nice sermon," she said. "Ah, yes. Father Kedley's pretty good," said Carson. "Is this your first time here?" "Yes," she said. "This is a nice place," he said. "People are pretty accepting." Kristin smiled wanly. "You're the only person who's come to talk to me." Carson frowned. "I'm sorry to hear that." She wouldn't be coming back, and he would never see her again. She waved her hand, as if to dismiss the sentiment. "It happens," she said. "Why do you come here?" "Well, I've been to a lot of different churches. Some were too wrapped up in figuring out who was going to hell, some wanted me to say I believed something I didn't. This place is pretty relaxed." "You go here because it's relaxed? Surely there are lots of places that are relaxed." He glanced at her. "I guess I come here because I feel just a little closer to God here than I do out there. I don't always agree with everything Father Kedley says in his sermons, but I don't feel like I have to in order to belong." "That was what I was hoping to find," Kristin said. "A place to feel closer to God. But I'm afraid church tends to just make me feel alienated." She waved to the talking crowd across the hall. "I'm not good at jumping in and making conversation, so I really don't have much right to expect everyone else to come running to me." She chuckled. "Church people tend not to like the way I dress, I've noticed." She looked over at Carson. "They probably don't," Carson admitted. "But you do," Kristin said. She's very direct, thought Carson. "I'm intrigued," Carson said. "God made my body, and God made yours. There's nothing to be ashamed of," said Kristin. "I feel I should look my best if I'm going into Her house." Carson always found it a little disconcerting when people referred to God as Her, although philosophically he'd always accepted that God was as much female as male. "You certainly look very good," he said. Kristin smiled. "Thank you." "Are you going to come again, you think?" "I might," Kristin said. "I'm not sure." "Because if you aren't going to," Carson blurted, "I'd have to ask you for a date in order to have a chance of seeing you again." "You could ask me for a date, anyway," she said. "Friday night?" asked Carson, heart pounding. "Sure." "7, for dinner? And maybe a movie after?" "Sounds good," said Kristin. She produced a pen and notepad from her purse, and wrote her address down. "Pick me up," she said, handing him the paper. He looked at it. She lived about a mile away. "Will do," he said. "See you there at 7 on Friday then," said Kristin. She drank down the last of her cookie by draining her coffee cup, then raised the empty cup in salute. "Until then." Carson smiled. "See you there." He took a step back, and watched her legs as she walked to the door. Mrs. Venable was at his side as soon as Kristin was out the door. "I'm glad you went over and talked to her," she said. "Hmm?" he asked. "Someone had to. I hope you told her what we think of coming to church dressed like that!" Carson resisted making a face. It would do no good to get in an argument with Mrs. Venable. He managed a slight smile, and said, "We discussed her clothing briefly." "Well, good." With that, Mrs. Venable walked off, no doubt to gossip with someone else. *** The date went well, and on Saturday night they went out again, ending the evening by making love on Kristin's couch. In the morning, Carson went to church alone. The next Friday night, they went dancing. *** She wore a tight red sweater and a black mini, fishnet stockings and low-heeled black sandals. As soon as they entered, she pulled him on the dance floor. They danced fast and slow, their bodies barely orbiting each other one dance, pressed so close on the next that Carson imagined he could feel Kristin's nipples through her dress. His cock pressed hard through his jeans, and she rubbed her thigh against him. An hour later they collapsed in a booth at the side of the club, catching their breath. "You're quite a dancer," shouted Kristin over the music. "Thanks," Carson said, grinning. "You're pretty good yourself. I haven't danced for years." "I expected you to give out long before this," Kristin said. Carson laughed. "I'm in pretty good shape, I guess. Anytime you want to go back to the floor, just let me know." He hoped Kristin didn't take him up on the offer. He was bushed. Kristin said something, too soft to make out. "What?" shouted Carson. "Why don't you sit over here, so we can hear each other?" Kristin asked, moving over and patting a place next to her. Carson got up and slid in next to her, enjoying the closeness of her body. "I'm glad you like dancing," Kristin told him. "It's fun. You're fun," said Carson. "As interesting as you'd hoped, when you asked me out?" "Definitely" "You know, my parents said that when they were kids, nice girls didn't go dancing." Carson raised his eyebrows. "They thought that dancing would lead to other things," Kristin explained. "Did it?" asked Carson. "Let's do our own experiment. I know this nice, quiet place." Carson grinned. Kristin had driven her car, a bright red Honda Civic, because Carson had balked at the idea of riding on her motorcycle. She didn't say a word as to where she was headed, and Carson didn't ask. Kristin pulled into the church parking lot. "Why are we stopping here?" asked Carson, thinking that Kristin probably intended to do some necking in the parking lot. Probably no one would stop by, but Carson wasn't sure. "It's nice. Quiet. Perfect," Kristin told him. "It's a church," said Carson. "I know," said Kristin. "Don't worry, I can get in." "In?" But Kristin had already left the car and was headed towards the parish hall door. Carson followed, wanting to tell her to stop. But he said nothing as Kristin worked a credit card between the door and the lock and opened the darkened church. She reached out her hand, and he took it. Through the dark room they crept, Kristin's heels echoing through the hall. Carson realized Kristin was headed for the sanctuary. "I don't think we should be doing this," Carson said. "Who are we hurting?" asked Kristin. Carson frowned. "I'm not sure. It just doesn't feel right." Kristin quit walking, and stood still. "Then I guess we should stop, do something else. If you really want to." Carson didn't know what to say. "What do you want?" asked Kristin. "I don't know," said Carson. "Well, when you know, come in and get me. I'm going inside; I like church better without all the frowning people." The click-clack of heels echoed a few more times, and then stopped, silenced by the sanctuary carpet. Carson stood in the narthex for nearly a minute, before following her in. He could just barely make out the silhouette of Kristin, kneeling in a pew near the front. "Hi," said Carson, not knowing what else to say. He knelt next to her. She looked over at him. He could just make out her smile in the darkness, but it was brief, replaced with a more thoughtful look. "Do I belong here?" she asked. "Everyone belongs here," Carson said. "If they want to." "God is Love," she said bitterly. "But God forbid anyone make love." "I don't think God frowns on people making love," Carson said. "Would you make love to me?" "Sure," said Carson, and then paused. "You don't mean here, do you?" "Yes," Kristin said. "Here." She lifted her sweater over her head. Even in the darkness, Carson could make out the points of her dusky nipples. She put her arms around him, pressing her bare torso against him. "I don't think St. Peter would approve," said Carson. "Wrong saint to think about," said Kristin. She kissed him swiftly, and then put her fingers to the buttons on his shirt. "Think Mary Magdalene." "Hmm?" "Jesus' girlfriend," said Kristin. Jesus' girlfriend? Somehow he didn't think he could've missed that in Sunday school "Some say she was a whore," said Kristin, pushing Carson's shirt away from his chest, leaving him no choice but to take it off if he wanted his arms free. "But I think they have her confused with someone else Jesus hung out with." The woman who bathed Jesus' feet was a prostitute, Carson remembered. That had always seemed to Carson to be an awfully sensuous scene for the New Testament. He wondered if, for Kristin, it was the central moment in the gospel. Kristin arched, then reached her hands inside her skirt from the bottom, wiggling until her panties slid to the floor. Carson's cock informed him of its hardness with a gentle ache. Kristin leaned over, and kissed him. "You alright with this?" she asked, her voice soft. "I don't want you to hate me in the proverbial morning. Or yourself." "I'm okay," said Carson. Without top or panties, Kristin was very persuasive. Kristin unzipped his pants, freeing his cock from its prison. "Take them all the way off," she said, and then added, "Please." Carson slid his pants and shorts off, leaving them in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Kristin had pulled a condom packet from a pocket of her jacket, and slid it over Carson's cock. She climbed on after it, sliding his hardness into her soft cunt. "Thank you, Lord, for making man and woman," Kristin said, raising her face to the vaulted ceiling. The motion exposed her delicate throat, and thrust her breasts towards Carson's mouth. "Bless the sex that we are about to have, and use our bodies for your will." Carson's cock felt as if it were about to burst. He thrust inside Kristin. She rocked back, grabbing the pew back for support, letting him establish the rhythm. Her tits wobbled in front of Carson, who leaned forward to take one into his mouth. He sucked on the nipple, pulling back and stretching it with his suction. He took Kristin's other breast in his hand, massaging it. Kristin snaked her hand into her skirt, caressing herself while he thrust inside her. She was an uninhibited lovemaker, as Carson had discovered before, seeking her own pleasure unreservedly even while reveling in his. He loved that. He felt like he was going to explode inside her, and he bit his lip, trying to hold back. "Oh," she gasped. The single syllable, echoing through the sanctuary, shattered Carson's resolve, and he felt his cock throbbing as it jetted what felt like pints of sperm. Kristin's body shook and her cunt muscles clenched Carson's cock tightly. Her fingernails clawed deeply into his shoulder. She rocked a couple more times, and then subsided, resting her head on his shoulder. Her sweat mingled with his. She felt warm and good. Footsteps in the hall. Kristin heard them too, he was sure, he felt her stiffen for a moment, and then she slid herself off of him. She slipped down below the seat, lying on the kneeler. He felt her hand take his, tugging him down, but he didn't need any encouragement. He lay flat on the seat, the come-filled condom thrust straight up by his still half-erect cock. The footsteps got closer, then vanished. Kristin started to sit up. Carson pushed her gently down. As it had with Kristin, the sanctuary carpet was muffling the footsteps. The light of a flashlight played around the hall, then lit the altar with a warm glow. For a moment, it flicked up, uselessly, to the huge wooden cross at the front of the church, bare in the Protestant style, surrounded by red draperies. It winked out. The footsteps sounded again in the hall outside. Kristin smiled. Carson breathed. "C'mon," whispered Carson "Let's get out of here." They dressed hurriedly, crouched between the pews. Kristin took her shoes off when she was done, carrying them rather than letting them tap against the floor. Together, they slipped out the side door. *** Sunday morning they sat together near the front, in the same pew where they had made love, she in her black dress, he in a casual western shirt and jeans. Mrs. Venable frowned her disapproval. Father Kedley preached his sermon. At the altar rail, Carson watched Kristin's red lips part to accept the communion bread. He glanced up to the bare cross and imagined Jesus there, smiling knowingly. ===== Kalisha Connors -- Erotica Writer www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Kalisha/www __________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? SBC Yahoo! DSL - Now only $29.95 per month! http://sbc.yahoo.com -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+