Preachers, Pulpit, Parishioners and... Ch. 03

To everyone who takes the time to get to know me by reading my work, thank you. I hope that you enjoy this installment as well as the others posted previously.

I also look forward to your feedback/comments.

With sincere gratitude, K. Carmichael

*

IV.

I planned on learning more about Blake from Tonya but when she cancelled her meeting with me I knew I had to take things into my own hands. Samson had told me that he would drop the forms off at the church but I knew that he would be out of town Saturday and that would be the perfect opportunity to fetch them myself. I didn't have a clue of what I was going to say or what she would say to me but I had to see her. She had to know what she was doing to me.

Here I was lusting after another mans woman.

Samson's family played a big part at St. Peter and I knew I couldn't do anything to mess that up. And with Tonya chasing behind me like a bitch in heat meant I had to tread lightly. Her husband, Deacon Moore was a big contributor to St. Peter. All it took was for Tonya to shake her ass and butter him up for him to be at her beck and call.

Getting into my SUV I didn't even mind being soaking wet from the rain.

Part of me felt guilty and the other part rejoiced.

All I wanted to do is talk with her but I had taken it too far by kissing the soft spot beneath her ear. Walking behind Blake to the bedroom and watching her pull my pants down I couldn't help but mentally beg her to put me out of my misery. I wanted anything that she was willing to give me. Weeks ago when Tonya sucked my dick I wanted to treat her like the whore she was. Blake and I had never had a verbal conversation but our spirits seemed to meet.

Have you ever wanted someone so bad that it hurts? I don't mean the kind of hurt that comes from being sexually frustrated or deprived, but the kind that even when your bodies are joined and you can feel her legs wrapped around your body, you still want to be closer.

Closer than close?

That's how I felt lying there with tears running down my face. When I felt my release begin to come and she looked into my eyes, I thought I would lose it. I couldn't dare push her away like every woman that I had experienced before and there have been many.

I don't even remember riding home in the pouring down rain. It's like my mind was in a daze as I drove. I couldn't wait until service tomorrow because I had a lot of praying to do for the things my mind were thinking of doing, and as awful as it feels to admit, a lot of praising for what had just been done.

Since Samson wouldn't be there I would have a chance to talk to her again.

I hated being this anxious.

I wanted to call her last night but how could I?

Minister Stokes was giving his sermon that always left the crowd wondering what was wrong with him. It seemed like all of his sermons had sexual undertones and if it wasn't that, then it was about money. Even though it was the 'same ol' same ol' I didn't mind because he was also always brief and to the point.

Why wouldn't she look at me?

She looked into my eyes yesterday but wouldn't even glance my way today?

I could feel myself getting a little angry.

I've let her taste a part of me that no woman has ever tasted and she won't even acknowledge my presence with a simple movement of her eyes?

And to make matters worse I couldn't see her as well as I wanted to because of the distraction of Sister Abigail's hat in front of her.

I felt that possessive streak begin to come back inside of me.

Minister Stokes was wrapping his sermon up because I could hear Deacon Sinclair start his "amen's" and the piano player begin to rattle the keys.

Coming from California I realized that things can be rather different in the south. For one, the way of living is MUCH slower and it seems as if pork makes everything taste better. And when its time for the preacher to stop preaching, the piano player leaps to the piano, tickles a couple of keys which make the preacher 'whoop' and 'holler' and if you don't get the cue by then, the church makes sure to agree to every word that you say. But this didn't happen with me because I'm more of a teaching type. I don't get all sweaty and lose my voice to get the message across.

"The doors of the church are now open. If there is anyone here who doesn't know Christ in the pardon of your sins, would you come?"

Minister Stokes waited several minutes while he eyed the congregation before he continued.

"We've invited but we see there is none, yet there is still room." he declared before taking his seat and wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead.

Shaking his hand and giving him a cup of water I stood to dismiss the church.

I could feel my body racing trying to get to her. I knew that she didn't have any friends here other than Ruth and if I didn't approach her soon she would leave.

Why in the hell does everyone want to talk to you when you have an objective? Damn.

Before I knew it she was rounding her heels to walk out the door.

"Excuse me Ms. Clareon, may I have a second?"

I could see her begin to look around to see who was watching.

"I actually have something to do."

"I'm sorry but that wasn't exactly a question."

The look she gave me was one of unexpectancy. She waited for me to begin to speak.

"I'll let you go but we need to talk."

With everyone walking past I didn't want anyone to notice the facial expressions that passed between the two of us. She must have felt it too because she placed a false smile across her face and asked me when.

"As soon as you're free."

"I'll be in touch Pastor Bronson." I could tell that she wouldn't.

"Blake, is it so hard to call me Ian?"

"I just like to make sure to address people by their proper titles." Holding her neck a little straighter and her head a little higher after she spoke.

Even with no one listening she insisted on the formality of calling me Pastor Bronson. That statement alone provided me with the information I needed to know.

By insisting on calling me 'Pastor Bronson' she was making it clear that she had no intentions of repeating what had occurred between us. Acknowledging that I understood her statement, I nodded my head.

"It was great seeing you again Ms. Clareon."

I left her standing there as I walked away. I could see that she wasn't going to make things easier for me.

By the time everyone cleared out I was happy to be alone. I could always count on a sense of peacefulness if I sat here after service and reflected on the things that I needed to tend to on the upcoming week.

How would I ever see Blake if we were only going to make contact on Sundays? I've got to start making better preparations if I want anything with this woman.

Samson was supposed to come by the church to amend a few details to the church's financial forms that I picked up from his home on Saturday. I didn't find but one thing that needed correcting and although I could have done it myself I wanted to pick him for as much information as possible. When Tonya cancelled our 'appointment' last week, I knew I had to find another means of learning what I wanted to know about Ms. Blake Clareon.

Besides all that Tonya would probably tell me is things that she wanted me to know and those things would all be negative I'm sure.

Monday afternoon Samson called to tell me that he was running a little late from the airport and that he would be there within 20 minutes.

I used that time to mentally prepare all of the questions that I wanted to be certain to ask.

Feeling a little guilty as I sat there and thought of what would I do with the information that I required. Even if I pursued Blake what would become of it? This church was run by the majority of Samson's family and I would be crazy to even begin to contemplate what I was thinking about doing.

"Pastor Bronson, it's good to see you again." Samson said breaking me from my trance.

"You as well Samson. How was your trip?"

I could see the look in his face and hear the tone in his voice that he seemed stressed about something. I wondered if it had anything to do with what took place while he was out of town. Blake didn't look like the type to want to confess but looks can be deceiving.

"Samson I only had one correction that I want to ask you about on page 6." I told him getting the business out of the way before we talked.

After briefly looking over and making sure that the forms were now correct he placed the folder back on my desk and stared into blank space.

"I can't help but notice that you seem a little 'different' today. Is something wrong? Would you like to talk about it?"

"Just a lot of things going on in my life at the moment."

I could tell by the way he was shaking his head that he needed to talk but wasn't sure what to say. If I would just be a little patient I'm sure he would begin to talk about what was on his mind. Maybe he just needed a little coaxing.

"Samson you know that all of us go through things in life. No one is exempt, not even me. Sometimes it helps to talk about it."

"Its just with home and trying to get my business off the ground, my mom staying on my back every chance she gets, its just stuff." He said looking down but remaining calm.

I had to press him more.

"Home? Are you and Ms. Clareon having problems Samson?"

Although Samson and I are almost the same age, he appeared to be at a lost for words, like most people are when they feel that they have to watch everything they say around me because I'm a preacher.

I had to make him feel comfortable.

I took off my preacher's collar and laid it on my desk.

This seemed to make Samson feel a little less strained because I could hear him exhale.

He begin to talk and I hoped that he would begin to trust me. I listened intently hearing the words flow from his mouth as he described the details of what was causing his mental anguish. His confessions started to sound like music to my ears. Yes, he was playing the perfect symphony I thought as I made several mental notes.

By the time Samson left my office he seemed to feel much better than he did when he first came in and said he would call to schedule another meeting ASAP.

There's something about the power of confession that lifts the spirit. I hadn't obtained everything that I wanted to but this was an awful good start.

The week of tent revival was always busy. Especially here at St. Peter. Living in such a small community makes going to church feel like an outing. Even on Sunday mornings the women dress in their best attire. The singing and rejoicing spent over several days had a tendency to tire everyone out. At the least we had the picnic at the lake to look forward to on Saturday to top off the weeks events. The picnic served as a way to have old time baptisms in the lake and eat and fellowship. It was a way to reward the community and parishioners who attended services during revival week.

It was up to me to shop for the supplies needed for the picnic.

It was a chore but I didn't mind. With my list in tow I went to Piggly Wiggly.

Although Piggly Wiggly was a small grocery store in the area they always had fresh meat of all kinds and cuts. It wasn't your typical 'Supermarket' but it had a way of making you feel as if time stood still when you stepped through the sliding doors. Viewing the handmade sales posters and grabbing a shopping cart I proceeded to grab the items on my list. Trying to check off the items that I was throwing into my buggy made me almost hit an oncoming shopper.

"Excuse me. I am so sorry I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going." I said frantically before fully looking up.

"It's ok Pastor Bronson. We all make mistakes." I heard in a sultry voice.

"Ms. Clareon. Hello." I spoke. After not seeing her for a couple of weeks and after a few meetings with Samson, imagine my surprise.

"Hello. I see that you're buying the whole store." she said to me laughing half heartedly.

Even in a t-shirt and sweat pants she looked delicious. It was always something about seeing a woman in oversized sweatpants that made me think unholy thoughts. Maybe it was the accessibility that I loved.

"I'm preparing for the revival picnic tomorrow. I'm in charge of preparing the meats and getting the ingredients for the desserts."

Why were we standing and making small talk? She all but told me to go to hell when I approached her the Sunday after our 'encounter'.

"Oh so you cook? Are you good at it?"

"I'm good at a lot of things." I told her with a slight undertone.

"Ultimately I like cooking but it seems that most of the preparations have been left to me since everyone's schedule is busy with work." I told her.

"I'm not busy. If you think you will need any help I can do it. And you also wanted to talk to me? I'm a pretty good cook." She told with a tone as if she thought I would say no.

I really did need the help and from what Samson had told me during our talk, Blake would be a great help in the kitchen.

"There are only a few items left for me to get and then I'm going to head home. If you aren't busy for the rest of the day I would love the help. Are you sure Samson wont mind?" I asked a little sarcastically but not caring if he did as long as she said yes.

"I have a few things to take home but it won't take long. I'll call Samson to let him know."

"Good. Do you know how to get to my house?"

Making sure she had the exact directions to my home, she finished her shopping and parted to leave.

After unloading the grocery and placing the items that needed refrigerating, I begin to lay out all of the proper utensils that I would need to prepare the food. I was placing the marinated steaks, chicken, and pork chops into the refrigerator when I heard a light tap on the door. It would take soaking the meat overnight in my homemade spices to ensure the flavors penetrated the raw animal flesh.

I quickly washed fmy hands and toweled them dry as I walked to the door. Blake stood there holding a series of pots and bake ware in her hands.

"Thank you again for your help." I told her as I reached for the items in her arms. She followed me towards the kitchen as I begin to speak.

"I'm preparing two peach cobblers, 3 sweet potato pies, 2 cherry pies and a coconut sheet cake. The deaconesses are in charge of the side dishes and Sister Ethel is bringing a few other desserts. I have the meat already marinating and we will grill that when we get to the lake. Deacon Sinclair is in charge of the fish that will need to be fried along with the boudain, sausages, hamburgers, and miscellaneous pork parts that he insisted on having."

"That's a lot of food."

"It does seem like it but we are preparing enough to be taken to the sick and shut-in following the picnic."

"That's really thoughtful." she acknowledged in a sincere tone.

"I turned on the air conditioner unit because the heat from the oven can be intense when you're baking."

"So where do we start? I brought things that I thought you might need. But I can see you have mostly everything done. What do you need me to do?"

"I've already prepared the fillings for the pies and all I have to do now is roll the crust out and bake them and mix the icing for the coconut cake." I could see the question in her eyes when I told her that.

It was true, I did need her help. Help in understanding what happened between us and how to take it from there.

~

She understood now. Blake lowered her head knowing that the real reason for volunteering to help was to be able to spend time with someone other than the four walls and medical books she encountered on a daily basis.

Samson usually slept in another room and when he did go to bed he never was romantic. Either he was easily agitated, out of town, or working. They had become so distant. He hadn't hit her for some time but he hadn't been given a reason to either. Blake knew that all it took was one accidental blow to permantly injure someone and unless she was ready to leave Samson, she didn't want to provoke him.

"I see that you've gotten everything covered so I'm going to get going. I have no intentions on repeating what took place between us before." she said to him matter-of-factly.

Assuming that she was in control of the situation Blake began to mentally applaud herself. In just a few moments with him she was reminded how preachers could be. He wasn't going to fuck her like he probably did every woman that looked his way. Ian seemed different than the rest, at first, but now that her guards were back up she wasn't going to let them back down again.

Ian stood there looking at her when she began to move towards the door. He approached Blake, grabbing her waist from behind. Not being able to control himself Ian pressed his body hard against her.

Not ever being the type to take orders he held her against him as she pulled to leave. Feeling her panting only added to his arousal and he knew that she could feel every inch of him grow through those sweatpants of hers.

Ian held her with his arm wrapped just beneath her breasts. She tried to move away again but couldn't.

Blake didn't have a chance to speak when he turned her around and placed his tongue between her lips. He applied his body pressure making her walk backwards. Before she knew it her back was placed between the hard wall and Ian's hard dick. She was trying hard not to kiss him back when he probed her mouth with his hot tongue.

Ian begin to skim her body with his hands rubbing lightly over her heaving chest and over the ample swell of her breast. After exploring her mouth with his tongue he opened his eyes to look into hers.

Lowering his fingers further he found the hem of her shirt and pulled the garment up just above her nipples. Ian begin to tweak the left engorged hardness between his fingers.

Blake didn't try to push him away as she stood engulfed and shocked by what was taking place. When he lowered his head to nip at the chocolate circles she felt a gasp escape her lips. Although her bra remained on she could feel every sensation through the thin lace that covered her. When he extended his tongue to give the same attention to her breast as he had done with her mouth moments earlier, Blake's breathing became more rapid.

Raising his head to kiss her mouth again she opened it greedily.

Ian replaced his left hand where his mouth had just departed.

Her pussy had to be wet by the way she was breathing and arching her body into him. Placing his knee between her legs Ian could feel the heat from her pussy when Blake's body began to grind against the hardness of his thigh.

Trailing his hand further down to meet the apex between her legs he palmed her there. The cotton fabric separated him from her most intimate part. Ian could feel the heat through her clothing. Blake could feel his tongue trail kisses to her earlobe before he traced it with his tongue.

She moaned a soft sound when he reached the spot just beneath her ear.

The spot that was familiar to him from before.

He begin to bite her lower lip gently as he continued his exploration. Blake was so overwhelmed by the torture that he was putting her through that she didn't notice the palm of his hand slide down her waist and past the band of her pants.

When Ian pushed aside the delicate fabric of her panties and a finger stroked into her pussy Blake went rigid against him.

She could feel soft spasms travel throughout her body as his fingers begin their slow intrusion.

'Damn she's so wet.' Ian thought to himself.

He could feel her vaginal walls contract around his finger and he let out a sharp gasp wishing that it was his dick inside of his finger instead.

Placing another finger intoy the slippery wetness caused Blake to pull away from his kiss and inhale. Blake had never experienced the sensations that this man was causing her body to feel.