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Message-ID: <43220asstr$1057266603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Kalisha Connors <kalishaconnors@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} A Visitor at St. Peter's {Kalisha Connors} (MF)
Date: Thu,  3 Jul 2003 17:10:03 -0400
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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

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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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