Abigail's Awakening Pt. 03

Abigail was surprised that she in some small way was happy to see Jack come into the Christian book shoppe, for the third day in a row.

She didn't lead on, "What do you need, Jack? Not too many things here for a witch."

"Booya."

"What?"

"My friends call me Booya, and you should too, now that we're friends."

"We're not friends."

"Sure we are, or we will be after I take you for coffee during your break."

The coffee did sound good today, if not so much the company, but she couldn't argue with free, so she closed the shop up for an hour and let him drive her to the nearest Starbucks.

They both ordered variations of the mocha, and they sat in the corner, and they looked at each other, and then they talked.

"You know, it's an unreasonable expectation that you should save yourself for marriage."

"What's it to you, punk? I wouldn't do anything with you if you were the last man left on earth and I were the dirtiest slut alive."

"Ouch. That's taking things a little far, isn't it? I mean, I thought we were getting on fine."

"Getting on is one thing."

"And getting off is another..." He started laughing at his own joke, and she almost laughed too but was able to hold it in. "Sorry, but you walked right into that one."

"Doesn't change a thing."

"But really, you have needs and so do I. Every woman who refuses to fuck me is just saying that my needs don't deserve to be met."

"Nice try. But your guilt trip is not going to work on me. Find someone else to "fulfill your needs"."

"I'm sure I will. I just thought you might be jealous if I did."

"Well, you thought wrong."

"Well, we can talk about something other than sex."

"Good move."

"What's your favorite Gospel, Abigail?"

"John," she said.

"In the beginning was the word..."

"That's the one."

"My favorite's Matthew."

They went on to discuss the way Jesus spoke in parables, what the importance of that was, and how Jesus said to beware the leaven of the Pharisees, and then about the kingdom of heaven and how the chaff are the evil seeds that will be burned by the angels at the end of the age. They talked about whether they actually believed in the End Times, what they thought might happen, and whether they would be found wanting. Abigail found she was really enjoying the conversation after awhile, despite the fact that she was having it with a self-proclaimed witch.

At the end of the hour, he dropped her back off at work and didn't try to come inside again. She appreciated the way he was respecting her boundaries, despite a few forays here and there. She didn't care for sex, didn't need sex, wanted sex only if it came with marriage and the promise of pregnancy. She was pure of heart, and she wanted to keep it that way. Her virginity didn't make it through high school intact by accident.

Deacon John came back that afternoon, at his normal time. She had thought he might, and she decided to give him one last tenuous chance.

"You're on really thin ice with me, sir, but I've found it in my heart to forgive you."

"Thank you so much, Abigail. Your friendship is precious to me, and I'm so sorry I did anything to tarnish it, or your views of the Church with me as its representative."

"It'll be okay, Deacon John. I'm sure you won't do it again."

"I won't."

"Your son came by the store yesterday to talk to me."

"Tim visited you? I should've known he would have to intervene. He was the only person I told about Monday's incident."

"He said you felt really bad."

"And what did you think of him?"

"He seems like a nice, young man."

"I know this may seem rushed, but I'd like to tell you that Tim would like to ask you out on a date. Only he's too shy to ever ask you himself. If I were to send him to the store on an errand, maybe you would be willing to make the first move? After all, a good Catholic girl like you can't stay single forever."

He had a point there. It did all seem to be too close together, but she also couldn't wait forever. Tim was obviously a prize husband for someone out there, and it endeared him to her a little more that he was very shy. She had also been shy her whole life, until adulthood forced her to work and put herself out there.

"Sure," she said. "I can't promise I'll marry him just yet, but I do think I'd like to get to know him better. And he is quite handsome, as I'm sure you already know."

"I'll send him by tomorrow to pick up a book or something, and you can go from there. Okay?"

"Sounds good. See ya later, Deacon John."

On the surface, her anticipation wasn't too high. She went home from work and did her usual: swimming, cooking, Bible study, prayer, sleep.

"How have people been treating you at work, honey?" her mom asked, over dinner.

"Not bad. Why do you ask like that?"

"Well, your dad told me about a little conversation you two had this morning, and we're both very concerned. If someone is doing something to you that you don't want, please don't be afraid to tell us."

"Nobody is doing anything to us. It was one dirty old man with a few lewd comments, and that's that. I haven't seen him since."

"If you're sure that's all we can let it drop."

"Please do."

"We're just concerned parents, that's all. We want our baby girl to have the happiest life she can. And we can't have someone steal what you've been saving for your husband."

"Well you don't have to worry about that. I promise."

"On a lighter note, did Deacon John's son happen to visit you again?"

"No. Why would he? It's not like we're besties."

"We just thought he might be a good match, and you should take the opportunity before someone else does."

"To be honest, I've thought about it, and if he asks me, I'm going to go out with him." Another white lie -- it wasn't hurting anyone, but where was this coming from, this growing penchant for dishonesty?

Abigail said all her prayers, and added to it a prayer for wholesome dreams. But the reality is, some prayers go unanswered.

She fell asleep and into a dream of swimming in a great colorful lake. She was swimming the front crawl and she raced to the shore, for some reason wanting to walk on the beach. A great mirror stood before her as she crossed the beach. It was the size of a giant wall, and it reflected her perfectly.

She was wearing a bikini unlike anything she'd ever owned in life. It was meant to be sexy, attention grabbing to the male gaze. It was bright red, and showed some of the tops of her boobs, and some under-boob too. She flicked her nipples and enjoyed watching them perk up. The low cut of her bikini bottom would've shown the top of an unmanaged bush in her waking life, but in the dream she was shaved clean, and she looked at the sexy lines of her hips and inner thighs with a newfound appreciation of her own erotic beauty.

She had never viewed herself as a sex object before, but in this dream she saw that aspect of herself with stunning clarity. She turned and winked her butt at the mirror. She had a newfound understanding of mens' feelings for her. She saw their lust as an obvious effect of her appearance and aura. She danced a sensual dance before the mirror and watched the sumptuous curves of her body move and groove.

That was all she dreamed that night, but if she woke with a sense that the epiphany of her sexiness had given her, she forced it out of her mind, and went back to her chaste ways of thinking.

It was a big day ahead, and she was hardly hungry for breakfast. She threw away half of the single piece of buttered toast she had prepared for herself. Today, she was going to take the first step toward having a boyfriend. One Thursday for the rest of her life.

While driving to work, she practiced what she might say, how she might make him feel comfortable and curious at the same time. If she'd have remembered the knowledge of her dream, she would've known that she had little work to do, the hook was already set.

But while she was waiting for Tim to show up, and reading G.K. Chesterton's "Francis of Assissi" while there were no customers, someone she knew showed up for her, and it wasn't Tim.

It was Booya, otherwise known as Jack, her witch friend. Again, she was happier than she expected to be, seeing him again.

TO BE CONTINUED