David Blake eased the car out of the farm drive and onto the highway. The Gordons, like a lot of Jen's parishioners, lived in a farmhouse although they both worked for industrial companies.

"So what did you think?" Jen asked.

"Nice folks."

"What did you think about the sermon?" Jen was always invited to some family's Sunday dinner after service, and he was included as her husband. Jen paid attention to their hosts while she was there, but she wanted 'feedback' on her sermon afterwards. He suspected that what she really wanted was some negative comments to verify her opinion that she was a poor preacher. It was an opinion he didn't share, but today's sermon had its faults. The Gospel had told about the Disciples walking through the fields husking and eating grain on the Sabbath. Jen had emphasized that the complaining Pharisees had ignored the worse offense of eating food which didn't belong to them.

"Let me look something up before I go into this. Do you have a Strong's?"

"Cruden's. I'll get it for you when we get back." The Cruden's was a paperback. He made a mental note. She needed a better concordance. A copy of Strong's would make a good Christmas gift. When Cruden's didn't yield the reference he wanted under 'basket,' he gave that gift a higher mental priority.

He took a while to find the passage he wanted. He took the Bible to Jen opened to Deuteronomy, Chapter 23, and said, "Read verses 24 and 25."

"Oh my God!" she said.

"The reason that the Pharisees didn't raise the issue of the Disciples eating grain they had picked from somebody else's field is that this was perfectly legal."

"I don't mind your knowing more than I do. After all.... But I got this idea from one of those sermon-starter books."

"That's a problem I've pointed out about myself. We New- Testament types don't know the Old Testament well enough. Why do you think I read a chapter a night?"

"Because you need to know everything."

"I'll never know everything. Some days I suspect I'll never know much.... Look. This isn't working."

"What isn't?"

"Commenting on your sermons on Sunday afternoon."

"You just have another agenda for Sundays."

"Look. I'm not a professor of hermenuetics. I'm a content guy, a professor of New Testament."

"You know more about preaching than I do."

"Not a hell of a lot."

"And I won't make that mistake again."

"You also won't preach on that text for another three years. I really doubt you'd repeat that point, anyway. Why don't you let me hear your sermon before everybody else does? Thursday night?"

"You want me to prepare earlier."

"Not just that...." It wouldn't hurt, though. Jen thought of herself as a poor preacher, so she skimped preparation -- which ended up with some poor sermons. This was mostly circular. Jen kept asking his advice on preaching, but she ignored the advice he thought most important. "But, you know, if you had one-tenth the respect for me as a preacher you claim to have, you'd at least listen to my advice on preparation."

"I don't have as much time as you want me to take."

"But I'm not asking for more time, really. I'm asking for better-distributed time. Try it out for me, will you? A prep time on Tuesday or Wednesday. Three weeks out of four that will take only the extra twenty minutes of running through it once. The fourth week, you'll be glad you took the time."

"I'll try." Which, from anybody else, would have been a polite dismissal. Jen did try, though.

That meant another night in the week when the newlyweds -- well reasonably newly -- couldn't make love. Jen didn't want anything distracting her on Saturday night from her preparation for the service the next morning. Thursdays, Jen would come back from choir practice, gather and read over her sermon notes, and then deliver her sermon to a congregation of one. She was tired when she finished; it was late; more often than not, he would have some improvements to suggest, which -- however much she wanted them -- did not leave her in a romantic mood.

Friday nights, though, were as sweet as ever.

Then came the Thursday when her sermon ran over the half-hour mark. "Well," she said, "I tightened as much as I could."

"You tightened too much," he responded. "You have two ideas there; choose one of them. If you want, preach the other point the next week. You're married to me; you didn't swear to love, honor, and obey the Lectionary."

"I didn't swear to love, honor, and obey you."

"Campbell betrayed me. I bribed him to put it in."

She stuck out her tongue at him. "It's a thought, though," she said. Sunday, she preached on the woman who touched the hem of Jesus' robe, ending a little early.

"I'm glad I married you," she said on the drive back from the Swensons'.

"I am, too. If we'd just shacked up, the Swensons might respect you less as their pastor."

"Sometimes, I'm glad I married you." But she was laughing. "I think today's sermon was well-received. Much better than what I started with."

"I think today's sermon was very good," he said.

"Much better than what I started with," Jen repeated. "You didn't say that, but you meant it."

"I meant that it was very good. Don't sell yourself short."

After supper, he read the Gospel for the next week. Then he ended with, "And what struck you for today?"

"Everybody who knew him as a kid couldn't believe he spoke with authority. What struck you?"

"The people had such little faith that not even Jesus could perform much in the way of miracles."

They continued their discussion. After they'd finished, they stacked the dishwasher working together. "So," Jen asked out of the blue, "should I preach on this or go on with Jairus's daughter?"

"Whichever you feel your congregation needs to hear. And there are two more lessons, as well. You're the preacher; I'm merely a consultant."

"That's not all you are."

"No. But that can wait 'til we're done in the kitchen."

Jen laughed. "Honeymoon's over. You didn't use to wait 'til we were done in the kitchen."

"I didn't?" He grabbed a dishtowel to protect her dress from the grease on his hands. Then he hugged her to him and kissed her, his tongue meeting her welcoming one. He pulled her body against his by her wonderful bottom. Finally, they broke the kiss. "Did I act like that?"

"Something like that."

"Extremely naughty of me." he said. "Independence UMC provides this room for the preparation of its pastor's meals, not for canoodling."

"I'm sure that nobody on the Trustees intends this for canoodling." She was laughing. The vocabulary was strange to her; he'd bet it wouldn't be strange to the trustees.

"That's why they provide all those bedrooms upstairs."

She giggled. And, when the dishwasher was running, she headed up the stairs with her bottom waving to him.

His undressing her was less efficient than each doing himself, but they weren't out for efficiency. They were home; when they were done, they need only turn off the lamp. The long drives after lovemaking were a thing of the past.

As soon as his hands bared a new part of her body, his mouth greeted it. Then she got in bed while he stripped. She turned on the lamp; he turned off the overhead light. When he climbed into bed beside her, they shared a sweet kiss before his mouth traveled down her body. As his mouth visited her ear and throat and shoulder, his hand stroked all that he could reach. When he kissed her nipple, though, her legs spread in silent invitation.

He stroked the insides of her thighs briefly, but soon he reached her mound. Her lips were nice and juicy when he reached them. He kissed across to her other breast and up to that nipple before he allowed himself to touch her nubbin.

As her breathing quickened, he kissed down over her belly. Then he had to break off to get between her legs. She spread them some more and raised her knees. He kissed the insides of her thighs, slowly tracing a path towards her center. He spread her outer lips before licking her inner ones. "Oh, yes, David," she said.

She tasted sweet, and he concentrated on the lips until she pulled his head against her. Then he held a breast with his left hand, and slipped the index finger of his right within her. She quivered when he first licked her nubbin. He alternated between that and her lips until he could feel her tense. Then he stroked the top of her tunnel as he licked her nubbin.

"Oh," she said as she convulsed.

When she pushed his head away, he moved aside immediately. He came up in the bed to lie beside her and hug her. He brought her near hand to his mouth and kissed it. "Ready?" he asked when she seemed to be recovered.

"Oh, yes."

They had another kiss with dueling tongues. He gave each breast due attention, he even kissed her thighs again. But, this time, he moved much more rapidly to her center. He avoided her nubbin, which would be much too sensitive right now, for her lips.

"David," she said and pulled at his shoulders. As he moved up her body, she grasped his phallus. He paused for an instant as she guided him within.

How smooth she felt, and how warm. "Love you," he said when he was fully ensconced.

"Love you," she replied, moving her hips slightly up and down. He shifted his weight onto his elbows and his hands onto her breasts. Feeling the nipples tickle his palms, he began long, slow, strokes within her.

"Mmm, yes," she said and held his back. She moved against him in response to his motions.

Soon he couldn't keep those motions slow. Jen didn't help by moving her hands down to his bottom and tightening around him. As he stroked faster and faster, she pressed against him more fiercely on the in strokes. When she convulsed around him and clawed at his bottom, he lost it.

He drove deep within her and hard against her. "Jen!" he said as he erupted. "Jen Niff Fer."

They lay gasping for a minute. Then he managed to pull out and lie on his side. She snuggled up against him in the spoon, and he covered them both with the sheet and blankets.

His alarm woke her when it woke him, but he kissed her as he got up. "Not your day," he said. "Go back to sleep." She seemed to as he ran the bath. He had a quick breakfast and drove to the station. He didn't see Jen until dinner time, and -- then -- it was a rushed meal before she hurried off to a meeting of the Administrative Board and Council of Ministries.

The next two days were equally hectic. Thursday, though, when Jen got back from choir, he sat down to listen to her. "You didn't hear wrong," she began, "and we didn't make a mistake. This was the same Gospel lesson as last week. There are two stories in this one passage, and David suggested that I preach on them on different Sundays." She went on to tell the story of Jairus's daughter. "She wasn't somebody Jesus knew. Her parents weren't his old friends." she finished. "She was ill, and then dead; she had a need. And the woman with a hemorrhage had a need. Jesus didn't know her, didn't even know who had touched Him. He cured them both because they both had needs. And that is the person we are called on to follow. We are called to serve the needs of our fellow humans. We aren't called to help those who've helped us in the past, nor to help our good friends, nor the deserving, but to serve any of our fellow humans who have needs."

"I," he said, "like it."

"It's all your doing."

"Not at all. And there is no reason to mention me at the beginning. You decided to preach two sermons on the same text because there are two stories in that text. I had nothing to do with it except that I urged you to follow your judgment."

"More than that. We're partners."

"Then I'll be the silent partner."

"David Blake, silent. Now there's a thought. But you'd rather I took it out?"

"Much rather. You're their pastor. I'm not."

And she did take it out. Sunday, the sermon sounded even better. In line afterwards, people were complimentary. But then, as Jen would be certain to point out if he mentioned it, people in Independence were complimentary every week. The Olufs, who were their hosts that Sunday, even mentioned the sermon.

"You think we should look after everybody?" Steve Olufs asked.

"Well, yes," Jen answered. "But that wasn't what I said. I said that Jesus told you to. The church doesn't pay me to give my opinions; they pay me to preach the Scriptures."

"And," put in Melanie (Mrs. Olufs) "this Sunday you surely did. I don't think of you like Cathy Mitchell does, and -- please, God -- I don't want to have her reasons; but your word this morning sure made me think."

The conversation moved on to more immediate topics, but Jen raised the point on the way home. "Y'know, you're good for me. Everybody always says that they enjoyed my sermons. 'Enjoyed'! I don't preach so they can enjoy themselves. But damn seldom do they say that the sermon made them think. And Steve got the point. And the comment about Cathy Mitchell, too."

"Now, that was none of my doing. Barely spoke with the woman."

"You spoke with Henry, though. Spoke with him when I couldn't."

"Well, I was another pair of ears that night. You were doing the main caring."

"You were a rock that night, David. I'm glad I married you."

This wasn't a time for quips. "I'm glad I married you, too."

"You're just saying that 'cause you want my body."

"Well, that is one reason I'm glad I married you." And if she asked for others reasons, he'd mention her good humor and common sense. That would ruin the joking mood, but he couldn't let her think she was only a body to him -- ruin the mood or not.

She didn't say anything for a while, though, and they went about their separate tasks. Sunday supper was plain, as they had eaten a full dinner at the Olufs'. Over the remains of the meal, they discussed the gospel for the next week. "Shaking the dust of their feet struck me," said Jen. "It seems, pardon the expression, an awfully unChristian thing to do."

"'Little Jesus, meek and mild' sure wouldn't say something like that. Which might just suggest that our image is corrupt. But," he corrected himself, "I digress. What struck me today was the lack of preparation. They weren't to take a staff or an extra tunic. I'm afraid I wouldn't start out on a journey like that without having the car checked by a mechanic."

Days like this, he was tempted to wing it on the portion that had struck Jen. He could already hear her sermon percolate. He stuck to their pattern, though. He zeroed in on the portion which had struck him earlier and for which he had prepared questions.

Jen looked thoughtful while they dealt with the dishes. He kept silent. He figured she could think and still do chores; probably she couldn't think and still listen to his chat. On the other hand, she'd been his student. It seemed to him that most of his students were perfectly capable of following their own thoughts while he was lecturing; they sure weren't following the lecture.

She shook her head when the dishwasher started. "You sure you won't mind if I don't follow your lead on the sermon subject?"

"In the first place, that's what struck me yesterday. Even if I were preaching next week, there is no guarantee that I would preach on that. In the second place, you're the one appointed here. Freedom of the pulpit and all that. Though John Knox would be shocked to have a woman filling any pulpit. If I can help, I'm pleased. If you found me restrictive, I'd be disappointed."

"You were a great help on this morning's sermon." And before he could say that he was pleased, she came over to give him a kiss. This went on for a long, and very pleasant, time. Her tongue welcomed his, and her bottom rolling under his hands. When it was over, agreeing silently that the time for discussion had gone, they went upstairs.

The time for clothing had about gone, too. This time they alternated. He removed Jen's blouse; then she removed his shirt. During the kiss when they were topless, he could feel her nipples harden against his skin. Then they separated to take care of the rest of their clothes, dumping the underwear in their hamper and hanging the rest in separate closets. Last of all, lying in bed beside Jen, he took off his glasses.

As it was chilly in the room, they kept two blankets over them. The insulation wasn't all that effective. Every time he kissed somewhere new on her, the motion let in another chilly breeze. When he was finally ensconced between her legs and kissing the insides of her thighs, they stopped for a readjustment. She pulled the top blanket to his right and the other to his left. A double layer covered his back and her knees; a single layer kept the air out on the sides.

Inside this improvised tent, he took his time. He kissed the inside of one thigh from the knee to just outside her lips, then the other. He kissed a path from that thigh around to the other just above her pubic hair. "David," Jen pled, "David, please."

He parted her outer lips with his fingers, and licked her inner ones until they, too, opened. He licked up the lip on his right, just missing her clitoris. He repeated that on the lip to his left. Jen pulled his head against her center by his hair. He sucked in.

Then he licked her more directly. "Oh!" she said. She pulled harder on his hair and raised her whole pelvis off the bed.

He moved up the bed, stopping only briefly to kiss each of her nipples. She reached down to guide him into her. "Oh, yes," she said as his phallus pushed between her lips. He kept going forward until he was entirely sheathed. He kissed her lips, but she was already moving under him.

He drove in and out, not even taking the time to move so he could hold her breasts. He was peaking much too rapidly, really should find some way to slow down. Even as he thought that, though, she was pulling him by the bottom and shoving her pelvis against his. She gasped as her center began clutching around him.

"Jen!" he said. Then, he drove in even more strongly and pulsed his seed into her. He was burning hot, and she felt hot against his skin, too. The two of them were slippery with sweat, he couldn't tell his from hers as he lay gasping on top of her.

When he moved aside, she cuddled up against him. Minutes later, his bottom was freezing. He readjusted the blankets so that both covered both of them. He tucked the edges under Jen's knees and shoulder.

"I love you," he said.

"You, too. You're not just a good advisor about sermons."

Whatever had heated the room a few minutes before had now dissipated. The air was cold on his face. Their cuddling was all that was keeping them warm. But that was all right; the cuddling was what he wanted most right then.