When Jen Blake's alarm woke her, David's arm was draped over her. That was fine, a luxury even in the warm weather. His erection was pressed against her, which wasn't so fine. Although David might not have any work deadlines for the next three months, this was Sunday morning and she had to lead a service in a few hours.

Since he didn't do anything, though, she didn't say anything. She hit the alarm, lifted his arm, and went to run her bath while he slept in.

His alarm sounded while she was drying off. She abandoned the bathroom to him and dressed in the bedroom. He cooked them breakfast before taking his own bath. After that, she was a pastor rather than a wife. The only attention she could spare for David was a brief feeling of satisfaction when she heard his voice on the first hymn. She told herself that any pastor would enjoy having that voice in the congregation, but probably others would enjoy it less than she did. She'd really fallen in love with his voice before she'd fallen in love with him.

They had Sunday dinner with the Bryants. "We'll miss you, pastor," Elaine Bryant said. Jen had never persuaded most of her congregation to call her by name, and it was much too late now to make an issue of it.

"I'll miss you, too. David won't miss the commute, though."

"Your new church is real close to the seminary, isn't it?"

"Walking distance," David said.

"Yeah," said Tom Bryant. "But, the way you walk, so's anywhere." People in Independence joked about the amount of walking David did. He'd given up his bike, local roads having lots of traffic and no sidewalks, but he still walked miles whenever he could. The amount David walked would be extreme anywhere, even in Chicago, but country folk walked much less than urbanites did.

"So," David said on their drive back, "tomorrow, we both have off. Want to do something special? Picnic?"

"Sounds great," she said. "Do you think the weather will co- operate?" There were clouds in the sky even then.

"Man proposes; God disposes. Let's keep up our side."

"Okay. Picnic lunch tomorrow. God willing and the creek don't rise."

He laughed. "God willing and the rain doesn't fall."

Sunday a week from today would be Pentecost, and she'd preach on the second chapter of Acts. At least 90% of the preachers in the Conference would be dealing with that, maybe 99%. That didn't stop David from taking the Gospel for their Sunday after- supper conversation.

Upstairs, David stripped her slowly. He kissed each newly- uncovered piece of skin and then returning to kiss her mouth. "Lie on your stomach," he said. When she did, he kissed her back while stroking between her thighs. When his mouth reached the back of her neck, the sensations were too great. She turned over.

His hand went to her mound as his mouth went to her breasts. Even then, he teased her. When he was kneeling between her legs and kissing her thighs, she could stand no more. "David," she said and pulled his head where she needed it.

His tongue on her lower lips brought her higher and higher. When he concentrated on her clitoris, it took her over. Her heat flared within her, flared again and again.

He cuddled her collapsed body while her spirit returned to it. "Sweet Jen," he said, "darling Jennifer." When she turned her face to him, he kissed her. His kisses traced the same route over her body as before, and her response was as enthusiastic. When she was at the edge, though, she wanted more than his tongue.

When she tugged on his shoulders, he came back up the bed and kissed her. She reached down to put his erection where it belonged. "Jen!" he said as he entered her. He rested on her, spread her lower lips, filled her.

His motions within her took her over. "Jen," he said again as her spasms shook her. Then he was throbbing within her. She tightened her legs and arms around him, tightened a more important part around a more important part of him. When she relaxed, he moved aside.

"Jen," he said one more time as he cuddled her. She fell asleep wrapped by his arm.

Neither of them had set an alarm, a luxury they seldom shared. Though they wanted to sleep in, the weather wasn't cooperating. She woke with a start to a nearby lightning stroke. "It missed," murmured David. "You're safe in my arms." And he was holding her. His arm was enfolding her torso; his hand was holding her arm; his chest was warm against her back. And his erection was pressed into her rump.

Well, for once, they had the same day off. David bent to her needs often enough, his horrible commute being only the most extreme example. He was more than willing to cope with any of her sexual needs; if he had his way, she'd have multiple orgasms every time they made love. So she could cope with his sexual need. Anyway, they probably wouldn't go on that picnic today. The rain sounded like it would keep coming down for hours.

She articulated that last thought. "God's disposing. Doesn't sound like picnic weather."

"Well," he said, "farmers needed the rain. They've been saying so. Maybe we won't go, but there's no law we can't spread a blanket on the living room floor and have a picnic there. It's your day; what would you like to do?"

"Well, it's your day more than mine. And I know what you'd like to do." She rolled her rump against his erection.

"You really want that? Let me up for a minute, and I'll see what I can do." When he got back from the bathroom, she took her turn. She needed to use the toilet, but she needed to renew the jelly in her diaphragm as well. "This is what you want?" he asked again from the bed.

"It's what you want," she said. She flipped back the sheet. He was no longer erect. "What happened?"

"What do you mean, 'what happened'?"

"You were erect not three minutes ago."

"I don't want you to think I don't find you inspiring," he said "'cause I do. You're endlessly sexy. But what I had this morning, what I have most mornings if you haven't noticed, was an erection because my bladder was full. Happens all the time... purely physiological."

"You mean that yesterday morning you didn't want to make love?"

"I wouldn't do that to you on a Sunday morning. You need to have your attention on the service, and I know and respect that."

"You wouldn't, but don't tell me you weren't thinking about it."

"I don't know. Some Sunday mornings, sure. You're tempting all the time, and -- perversely -- more tempting when I know I can't have you. I really want you every single Saturday night. Mornings, on the other hand, mornings aren't my best time. This morning, after an orgasm -- quite an explosive orgasm -- last night, I was enjoying your presence; but I wasn't thinking of going further."

"The erection didn't show what you were thinking?"

"Not in that case. I hate to tell you this, but I woke up with an erection most mornings before I ever met you. Purely physiological. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," she said. "I was mad at you for wanting sex when it was totally inappropriate."

"Well, sometimes I do. So what? 'Inappropriate' deals with what you do, not what you want. Ever go past a doughnut shop and suddenly want a doughnut? When you shouldn't -- when you're not carrying any money. If you ran in and ate it, the owner would be justifiably angry. If you merely drool, he's pleased that he had the effect he wanted."

"I'll never understand men."

"The question isn't whether you understand me. The question is whether you want an indoor picnic. Anyway, shouldn't I be cooking breakfast this morning? What do you want?"

"I'll cook it. I don't have any church duties, today. I'll cook breakfast, and you can fix the picnic."

"Deal."