Abigail's Awakening Pt. 06

The weekend passed with a lack of event that characterized the good life Abigail had built for herself, with the aid of her loving parents. On Saturday, she went for a swim, and as if on cue, her dad started mowing the back lawn, where the two of them were in full view of each other in their respective activities.

He must have it bad, she thought to herself, that emptying nest feeling. Everytime she looked up with a breath between strokes, she saw that he was watching her. Their eyes would connect, and he would smile at her before looking away. Certainly, it wasn't healthy for him to hold so tightly to her fading youth, but who was she to judge? She had yet to become a parent and face those demons herself.

When she checked her phone after her swim, she saw that Darla had called. Darla was Abigail's best friend all through high school, they had been at times connected at the hip, but when the time came for adulthood, Abigail found a job, while Darla took out $15k in student loans for one year, and trundled off down the freeway to a university an hour away, close enough to yet far enough away from home for comfort.

She called her right back but was sent to voicemail.

"Just checking up. Call you back at a better time ;)", Darla sent right back to her in a text message.

Abigail sent her back a red heart emoji. She thought hard about what she said next, but eventually sent it, ensuring that she had to spill the beans when the time came. "I have so much to tell you. No bf as of yet, but two men entered my life recently."

"Two?! Saucy!" was all the response Abigail got, then she knew Darla wouldn't want to hear from her for at least a week. That was just how she was, so absorbed in the moment, wherever that moment took her. She almost invariably had to be the one to call you; she was notoriously evasive when it came to actually taking a call.

Sunday came and went, the whole family of three attending mass together at St. Mary's. A weird thought crossed her mind as she looked at statuary of the holy mother of God, Mary. If Mary was a virgin, she thought, does that mean I don't have to be? She examined the thought, found it stupid and meaningless, and moved on to the font of Holy Water, into which she dipped two fingers, then made Sign of the Cross.

The sermon was on the dividing of the loaves and fish amongst the people gathered to hear Him talk. The priest turned it into an inspirational lecture of the miracle of doing the best you can with what you have, and not needing any more than that. She tried to refract the lesson through the lens of her own life, and the moral she decided upon was that, as a good, if handsy, Christian, Tim was what she had that she could work with. Maybe it didn't feel right right now, but the miracle would arise in staying with the relationship, with Christ as the central authority in their bond.

She went to bed and for the first night in weeks, she didn't dream at all.

Monday came next, with the return of the dream of responsibility. She went to work, showed up five minutes early to open up shoppe.

Throughout the morning, she kept expecting Jack to show up in his black apparel and tatted skin. She was prepared to tell him off for good, that she was commiting to Tim, that she would not tolerate complications which would amount to betrayal, and thank you but goodbye. She was almost eager to see him, but he didn't show.

Tim, on the other hand, came by the shoppe with his father around 2pm. Tim smiled warmly at her and gazed into her eyes. His eyes, muddy brown, were nothing special to her, but she smiled back invitingly.

She had a vision of the two men, father and son, as a pair of harmless teddy bears, yet with a slight air of sexual deviance to them. They both had a thing for her butt, neither one could honestly deny that at this point, and she merely assumed that those desires for her body were coupled with a greater trend of feeling, desire for the good of her person. Only time could tell, but she chose trust. Once again.

"What brings you two fine gentleman into the shoppe this afternoon? Deacon John, I missed you."

Her spontaneous candor and offering of forgiveness disarmed Deacon John. "I missed you too, young lady."

"I would give you a hug, but that would make me a weirdo."

The heartwarmed deacon receded to the back of the shoppe, allowing the two young-uns to dazzle in their dalliance.

"I want to see you again," Tim said, cutting to the chase.

"I'm free tomorrow night. Pick me up from work." She felt empowered, taking a subtle lead role in the relationship-building.

Back home, Abigail's mom was almost ecstatic with the news. A second date! She didn't care that Abigail wouldn't be home to cook dinner tomorrow. They could bake a pizza.

Her father seemed a little less optimistic, or maybe just more distant that she was used to. "Set your boundaries before you go. Even a good Christian is susceptible to the temptations of the flesh in the privacy of his temple."

"I'm not afraid of him doing anything untoward, dad."

"Oh, and neither am I. I just know how things can escalate quickly, in the wrong environment."

"If Tim doesn't want me to save my virginity for marriage, he has no reason to be around me."

"I'm glad you see that, sweetheart. I just hope you would never submit under any pressure."

"I'll be as cool as a cucumber."

Her dad laughed a little at that, liking the image. "That's pretty hot," he said, then quickly corrected himself, "I mean cool. That's pretty cool."

"Yeah, as a cucumber," she said, looking her dad deadpan in the face, gauging his response. She didn't put her faith in the theories of Sigmund Freud, but that little slip bothered her. What was on his mind that he would say "hot" when he meant "cool"?

She tried to let it drop, as she finished her dinner and went upstairs. She studied the Bible and prayed and prayed. God was listening to her prayers, she could feel in her heart, but would He answer them?

God already knows even the smallest wish in your heart, she knew from Scripture, so would he answer her desire for Truth when it came to her father, even if she didn't ask for it?

Would He give her what she expressly asked for, a healthy flowering of the relationship with Tim, on the path to marriage and motherhood?

He works in mysterious ways, she knew. Like bringing Jack into her life, just when she was about to meet Tim. It seemed to her a strange test of faith. Could she bear to resist her urges for the witch in her life, when those urges were founded on physical lust and nothing deeper? Or would his strange magic ensorcel her to a place of no return, where she could not honestly go to the altar with Tim, or any other good Christian for that matter, as she had already given herself to Jack on a bed of pagan moss?

All they had done was hold hands once and kissed once. It was such an unimportant detail. She could blow it out of proportion all she wanted, but in the end, she should praise herself for maintaining her virtue.

She went to bed and dreamt that a powerful wizard appeared to her on a snowy mountainside fastness. He was carrying a magic wand in the shape of cock-and-balls. His blue robes were embroidered with the outlines of a thousand vaginas. He waved the wand over her midriff and looked at her belly intensely. "It is finished," he said.

"What is?" she asked.

"The virgin shall be with child."

"But I'm the virgin," she said, certain of her own hazy logic.

"Here, you'll need this." He handed her an old-fashioned broomstick with a wooden handle. The round smooth top of it spoke to her, and before she knew it she was undressed and she was sliding the tip of the broomstick into her vagina. She masturbated herself with this magical object, feeling like she was flying away on it.

Then a young man appeared out of the sky, actually flying on his own broomstick.

He had dazzling long black hair down to his butt that whipped about in the wind. He landed next to her and settled his hand on the hand of hers that was controlling the broomstick's inward and outward flow. He stayed her hand. She felt her pleasure receding, and tried angrily to push him away. He lifted her to her feet, brushed aside a stray lock of his hair, and kissed her on the lips.

God, did that kiss feel good! She yielded to his flow, came back with her own passionate response. They kissed and kissed, making out there in the mountainside, her totally nude, but him not taking advantage, just focused on pleasing her lips. That kiss felt so amazing she squirted onto the rocky ground.

When Abigail awakened, her sheets around her thighs and the bottoms of her cotton panties were all sodden. For the first time in her life, she felt a nameable impulse to pleasure herself. She felt it strongly, the desire to masturbate, for the first time. But she rejected that desire even more strongly. That kind of behavior was against her deepest moral conviction, not to mention against the rules of the household.

She skipped breakfast that Tuesday morning and snuck out the house without saying goodbye to anyone. She was too bothered inside to face her parents, worried they might see through her.

She arrived at work five minutes late, tardy for the first time in the year she'd held the job, and Jack was already there waiting to see her, chatting up an older woman who was also there to see the shoppe at the opening bell. She felt a twinge of something at the way the woman attended to Jack's every word, the attraction written all over her face. She didn't want to feel possessive of this Jack, whom she was trying to rid herself of, but the reality of it was, she did.

"We were worried about you," Jack said to Abigail as she unlocked the storefront. "I was telling her how good you are with time."

I smiled, first at my feet, then at the older customer. I did not want to look at Jack, was afraid to look at Jack, really actually wanted to look at Jack but couldn't let myself. How could one week's time bring such turmoil?

TO BE CONTINUED