The Reawakening of Dr. Clark Ch. 09

As usual, the Clarks' home on a Sunday morning was a bustle of activity. As Greg sat at the kitchen table reading a book to his two year old son Martin, his wife Gina ran back and forth, getting herself together for church, and trying her best to ignore their five year old daughter Shelly's proactive whining about attending Sunday School.

"But...I'll miss the peace..." she sighed to no one in particular as Gina closed the bathroom door, effectively ending their dialogue.

After pacing for a moment, Shelly realized she had another parent. "Daaaaaaaaaad," she sing-songed, skipping into the room, "Do you think I should have to go to—"

The noisy clatter of the doorbell interrupted her. Try as he might, Greg had never figured out how to change that things tone or volume.

"Sorry, kiddo, looks like we have to table this for now," he told her, mussing her hair slightly and handing her the book he was reading, "Why don't you show Martin how big kids like you read?"

With a dramatic sputter, she took the book and sat next to her brother.

Satisfied that both were suitably distracted he opened the door to see who would be by at this time.

"Good," he began with a smile, "Morning?" He finished sounding significantly more befuddled.

"You should probably pick your jaw up, Doc. The neighbors might talk," Mallory sassed him as she strolled in.

Not able to help himself, he looked her up and down. She was wearing a sundress, a nice fit for the Indian Summer day it was shaping up to be. A white field awash with yellow flowers, sleeveless. He followed the demur—but still tantalizing—neckline of the dress down to about three inches above her knee where it ended. It was made of a light bouncing cotton that fluttered as she walk and settled down nicely to showcase her stare-worthy ass when she stopped. Her tan, toned legs stretch to the floor, ending in feet slid into wedge heels that looked like they were made of wicker. He snapped his eyes back upward, not wanting to be too obviously lecherous in his leering, and attempted to focus on face. She had scrubbed clean quality to her; if she was wearing any makeup at all, it was very subtle. Her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders, secured close to the part with a pair of hair clips.

He forced himself to speak, worried that he had stood for far too long silent not to raise suspicion or, at the least, concern. "Umm, Mallory...did we say we needed you this morning? Because...that was a mistake. We have church so...you are...umm...free to leave."

Mallory giggled at how out of sorts he was. She enjoyed seeing him tongue-tied. Even though he had grown to accept his desire to engage in what others might label some rather unsavory activities with her teenage body, he was still delightfully prone to becoming befuddled when others were around, when she tried things in public, when she tried things when Gina or the kids might be home soon, and so on. Generally, whenever there was some sort of perceived risk on his part that he'd give up the game or get caught. It was nice. It kept the element of the forbidden in "the room," if you will, made her still have to be aggressive and seductive. It was like the best of both worlds: getting to be naughty and in control at times and yielding to being fucked with abandon at others.

"Hey Mallory," Gina said, walking into the kitchen still affixing her earrings. She caught her husband's look of utter confusion and apologized, "Oh, shoot! I totally forgot. Mallory is coming to church with us today."

Greg looked back at Mallory, eyebrow arched.

"Yeah," she confirmed, "My folks' church is pretty judgmental. Boo to gays this, know your place woman that, so I stopped going as soon as I could. But I miss the, I don't know, non-political aspects of the service? Anyway, your wife said your church was pretty progressive so I thought I'd give it a try."

It sounded plausible enough to Greg and had he not, only four days before, had sex with Mallory on her apartment room floor while her roommate watched and, then, participated a bit, he might have bought it. But, by now, he knew that any sudden appearances, requests, or unexpected visits from Mallory usually had another purpose than the stated one. And that purpose usually involved the continued shattering of his moral code. Still it was church. Besides teasing him, she couldn't do much, right?

So he replied, "Sounds good. Let's get going then."

The family plus Mallory piled into the gigantic minivan that Gina insist they buy after Shelly's birth, parents in the front seat, kids in their car seats in the first row bucket seats, Mallory all the way in the back in the middle of the bench seat.

"You can sit closer, Mal," Gina offered when she noticed.

"That's okay Ms. C...I can stretch out back here."

As the doctor began to back up, he quickly noticed, that Mallory had an ulterior motive for her seat choice. She was fully visible to him in his rearview mirror and was taking full advantage of it. Trying to focus on the road, he still found himself stealing glances backwards. Glances that she took every advantage of by pouting naughtily, running her tongue over lips, biting her bottom lip, sliding forward in the seat some so her dress would hike up and show her not very appropriate for church skimpy blue silk underwear. By the time they pulled into the church parking lot, she was caressing her left breast through her dress while teasing herself through her panties. She quickly adjusted herself as they settled into a spot and by the time everyone was out of the car, you couldn't guess by looking at her what she had been up to. She was good.

Mallory lagged behind to walk with Greg when he was done locking up the van, smirking at him as they strolled towards the building.

"That was not very appropriate church behavior," he scolded her without making eye contact, trying not to smirk himself.

"Guess it was a good thing we weren't in church then, huh?" she teased back.

"Humph," he scoffed, "Maybe so. But those panties are not what good girls wear to church."

"I could just take them off," she offered. He only shook his head in response.

"Would it help if I told you that they aren't panties, just a thong?" Again a shake of his head.

"In that case, we may both have to accept I'm not a very good girl."

With that she quickened her pace until she caught up with the rest of the Clarks, making sure to emphasize her hip movements as she went. The doctor did his best to keep his eyes in his head and his tongue in his mouth as he watched her go.

Once inside, Shelly dutifully stomped off upstairs to Sunday school with her mother carrying her brother to daycare close behind. Greg and Mallory stood in the hallways waiting for Gina's return as people milled about them, going upstairs to daycare and Sunday school or heading to the narthex to pick up a program and head into the congregation. Somehow, without his noticing before it was too late, Mallory backed up against him, subtly molding herself to him in a way that looked to the outside observer like two people conserving space in a crowded hallway. Greg, however, was very aware of the ways she'd move her body against him in ways that appeared to be accidental or about letting someone through but were designed to provide maximum friction between them. She smelled strongly of herself, of clean, and of some kind of peppermint bodywash and after a minute, it was all around him, flooding his senses, making his head feel floaty with suppressed desire.

His wife returned looking out of breath and a bit annoyed. "Sorry guys," she said, glancing around, evidently still looking for something, "It looks like whoever was assigned to work the daycare room today is not showing so I'm going to do it. You're on your own for the service."

"Are you sure, Mrs. C?" Mallory asked sweetly, "I can do it for you, if you'd prefer."

"That's very sweet but the whole point of you coming was for you to see the service. Can't do that and run the daycare at the same time," Gina assured her, kissed her husband on the cheek—completely not taking note of how close the babysitter still was to him even though the crowd in the hall had thinned considerably—and headed back upstairs.

Mallory spun to face Greg and smirked, clicking her shoes together, "Looks like it's just the two of us, Doc."

"That it does. Now we are going into a place with tons of people so you will have to be on your best behavior," he ordered her.

"And when am I not?" she replied, playing innocent.

"Uh-huh. Let's g—."

"Ahh, Greg, just the man I'm looking for!" Dan, the church's maintenance man declared, popping out of a nearby office.

"Dan, church is about to start and—"

Dan held up his hands to stop Greg and said, "No worries. I'm not gonna keep you, just need an easy favor. The AC is broken up on the second floor so I'll be trying things to fix it downstairs. I just need you be up there. You can be in the balcony and listen to the service. You won't miss a thing. You sit there, I'll text you, you say if it worked or not. Rinse. Repeat. Until it is fixed."

"I don't know," Greg hemmed, "We have our babysitter here so she can see if she wants to start attending more often and I don't want to just leave her by hers—"

"No worries. Just take her with you."

Greg exhaled, "Fiiiiine." He wasn't normally this disagreeable to helping out but the entire of an entire service in a hot tiny balcony while wearing a suit and tie did not please him. Nonetheless he gave in and guided Mallory down the hall. Upon reaching the balcony stairwell, the doctor lifted the velvet rope with sign stating "Balcony Closed" for Mallory to duck under. As she did, she "accidentally" lost her balance and had to steady herself by putting her hand onto Greg's crotch.

"Oops," she giggled as she felt him rise a bit.

"Come on," he grumbled in response, flushing an embarrassed pink, and replaced the velvet rope behind him before ascending the stairs.

The balcony was an oddity, an oval opening sliced into the side of the congregation, only big enough to set about five comfortably. It was difficult to see anything but the very front of the church from it without leaning over the railing and nearly impossible to see the choir in the loft. From the floor of the congregation, it was even odder. The seats in it were set far back from the railing and the interior was crushed red velvet which essentially swallowed the dim lighting. Under the best of circumstances it was hard to get a clear look at who was in it. It was not a useful addition by almost any definition.

Today, though, it was even less useful than usual. In addition to the broken AC, the church had hung a curtain over the exterior of the balcony to hide it while new seating was installed. No one had yet bothered to remove it.

"Wow," Mallory quietly whistled, "I guess it really is just us, huh?"

"And he was not kidding about the heat," she added moments later. She was right. Up in the balcony only a minute and Greg could already feel the first blush of perspiration on his skin.

"Well, hopefully Dan will get it done quickly," Greg offered, trying to be reassuring.

"Doesn't matter to me," she replied, "I've got nowhere to be."

Mallory took her seat on the plush two seater set deepest in the cavern that was the balcony and patted the seat next to her. "Come on and take a seat. I can hear the organ starting."

With a sigh, Greg dropped in next to her. The air was heavy and, combined with the earlier teasing, left his head feeling as though it was packed with gauze. His phone chirped an incoming text and he quickly silenced it...he had forgotten to turn it to vibrate. Even though it was lost amongst the boom of the organ, he still blushed fiercely. The blush deepened when Mallory whispered, "Naughty, naughty," while pantomiming a finger wag.

The text read, "What I was looking for is what where I thought it was. Have to find it. Hang tight, I'll be as quick as I can."

"Great," bemoaned Greg.

"Looks like we are stuck with each other a little longer, huh?" checked Mallory.

"Yeah, something's apparently not where it was supposed to be...or something."

"Oooo, hate when that happens."

As the singing began, Greg looked around for a song book and found none.

Mallory noticed his futile searching and pulled him back into the seat. "Don't worry about it," she assured him, linking her arm in his, "We can just listen to the music. We should probably conserve our oxygen anyway in this thing."

He smiled at the joke, parted the curtain slightly, and relaxed for a moment, until he saw the pastor.

"Oh, this too," he thought aloud.

"What?"

"Nothing...just...this guy's a guest preacher. Not our normal guy."

"Is that bad?"

"Not bad per se, just...well, he's boring to be honest."

"No song book, wrong pastor, stuck in an oven...not really a good introduction to your church, huh?" she kidded.

"Sadly, no."

"Eh, it happens," she reassured him, "I can make my own fun."

Another song began and Mallory leaned into Greg. "You should take your jacket off. And your tie."

"What?"

"It's hot as...well...Hell up here. No one can see us. You are going to be a puddle by the end of this thing if you keep all that stuff on."

Greg had to admit that it made sense. It took of his jacket and tossed it on one of the other chairs. As he went to do the same with his tie, she snagged it from him, donning it herself in its loosened state. He sniggered a bit to himself. He had not seen a woman wear a tie like that since a college dance when they pulled them over their dates' heads and wore them as a sort of statement of ownerships. Or maybe it was the first wedding after college, when they were still more like college parties. Either way , it took him right back.

"You like?" she asked, doing a small shimmy in front of their chair and spinning the tie around in her hand.

"I do. Very cute."

"Cute?" she asked, voice marked with disappointment, "Cute, not sexy?"

"Cute can be sexy. They can coexist."

"Do I fit the bill? Cute and sexy."

"And more," he assured her.

"Goooooooood," she replied exaggeratedly.

The service pressed on and no text from Dan. Greg glanced at his watch and was stunned to find only about 10 minutes had passed since they got into the balcony meaning they still had at least 50 minutes of service to look forward to. He looked over at Mallory and saw that she was glistening with a sheen of sweat. Where her hair touched her skin, it had grown darker and began to stick to her neck and shoulders because of the moisture. Droplets of sweat occasionally zigzagged down her chest, disappearing into her cleavage. She became aware of him watching her in fascination and let him stare for a moments longer before facing him.

"You were right...this guy is boring. Super boring."

"Yeah...sorry."

" 's ok. You kind of owe me though."

"Oh? How do you figure?" he returned, eyebrow arching.

"I was promised a transformative religious experience."

"Not by me."

"Not how I remember it."

"Ok. Well, say that I did promise you a...."

"Transformative religious experience."

"Right. That. What can I do about it now?"

"Hmm...Oh! I know one way you can encourage me to say 'Oh God,' over and over again," she replied raising her own eyebrow and ever so slightly biting her lower lip.

"And that wou—" Greg began before catching on, "Uh-uh. No. Not here. That's not okay."

"Oh come on, Doc. We have this whole balcony to ourselves. Looking at you sweat and not tasting it on my tongue is driving me crazy and I know it is driving you crazy too because I saw you staring at me. And no one will know what we've been up to because we are going to be all sweaty and sticky when they see us next even if we just sit here.

"No, this is church."

"Exactly! I know how you love the forbidden like I do. What could be a naughtier place to have sex than a church...in the middle of the service? With a teen girl, besides?"

"Stop that."

"What?" she asked innocently, maneuvering herself so she was on her knees in front of him, "I am just telling the truth that I am SOOOOOOOO young."

"Come on, Mallory—"

"That's exactly what I am telling you to do."

He ignored her and continued, "If you are bored, I don't know, pray or something."

"That's exactly my intention," she replied and dropped her head into his lap.

Her breath was hot, hot enough that even with the heat of the balcony he could feel it through his pants. His body betrayed him and he felt himself grow harder, longer, thicker. She did too and let a pleased half-moan escape her lips.

He reached down to force her off and she caught his hands with her own, grabbing, batting and otherwise frustrating his attempts at repelling her. As she kept him busy, she used her teeth and tongue to grab hold of his zipper. He heard, or perhaps just sensed, that telltale sound of a zipper being undone and went rigid in panic. She pulled it all the way down and his cock sprang loose, through the opening in his boxer, through the opening in his pants. Without a moment's hesitation, she engulfed him, taking him deep into her mouth. She hummed with him there, the vibrations sending tiny shockwaves through him. He realized he was holding his breath and struggled to release it.

Greg tried to rally, to force Mallory off him, but could not seem to. Part of him wondered if he was even trying as hard as he could. Soon, her oral ministrations became too much for him to strain against; the heat of it inducing a sort of trance. Feeling him go slack almost everywhere except what she had in her mouth, she let go of his hands and began to undo pants button. The interruption in her rhythm was enough to give him a second wind and he protested against this separation of button from button hole. She looked up at him, dragging her teeth gently along the underside of his cock as she let it slide from of her mouth. Then she spoke, pausing occasionally to run her tongue around the part of his dick where the head met the shaft.

"We both [pause] know that I am [pause] going to suck your cock. [pause]. I can do it [pause] with your pants [pause] undone and out of the way [pause] or you can [pause] end up with [pause] your lap covered with [pause] cum [pause] and [pause] saliva. Your choice."

Maybe it was just because she had his cock in her mouth, but it made a sort of basic sense to Greg so he stopped resisted as she finally undid the button and yanked his pants and boxers down. She allowed herself a moment for a smug, sly smile and then immediately took him in her mouth again. As she took her deeper and deeper, she shrugged off the straps of her dress and undid her strapless bra, freeing her breasts for his appreciation. His moan of delight told her the gesture did not go unnoticed. Keeping one hand on his dick, she allowed the other to roam across her small perky tits, absentmindedly giving herself small bursts of pleasure. This, too, did not escape the doctor's attention.

"Oh god," he sighed, "I love when you touch yourself."

With stopping the blowjob she mumbled an, "I know," in response.

She gazed up at him as he struggled to maintain eye contact. His eyes grow glazed and it became an increasingly uphill battle to not close them and just succumb to the pleasure. She loved these moments, when she was on her knees, seemingly the one in the vulnerable position, the one being dominated. However, it was anything but the case. Greg, all six feet of strong masculinity, was like putty in her hands. Rock hard putty, if you will. She felt the subtle growth of his cock in her mouth, signaling how beyond the bend he was. She loved the feel of it, how it was a struggle for her to take it all, the dull ache of her jaw, the sting of tears in her eyes. For some reason, the idea of cock sucking as work, as effort, appealed to her. It made it seem more...she didn't know. Sacred, perhaps? Like a mythic trial...or the naughtiest kind of prayer.