America's Favorite Virgin

"911, what's your emergency?" Asked a male with a deep voice.

"This is Charles Nelson, I'm at 1123 Brierhill Road. I need the police to come over to stop a disturbance immediately."

"Looks like police are already en route to that address, sir."

"Thank you."

"So is Anastasia as hot in real life as she was on television?"

Charles wanted to scream. His face was hot and he gripped the phone instead of throwing it across the room and watching it shatter into a million pieces on the wall.

"Sir, they should be there."

"Thank you," Charles hollered into the phone.

"Congratulations, Mr. Nelson, she's one fine piece of tail."

"Cocksucker," Charles muttered after pressing the red button. The whole world could go to hell and leave her alone. He should have known there would be some kind of blowback after the escape and he had done a shit job of protecting her from it.

The Deerfield cops were already breaking up the mob and the chanting was quieter now. He'd love to watch one of these Jesus freaks get pepper sprayed and tossed to the ground but he had to do damage control.

He started up the stairs and heard the sob.

Everything else could wait, everyone else could fuck off. He had a little girl to rescue. Charles knocked softly on her door. "Can I come in, honey?"

She sniffed and her slow molasses voice was sad and far away. "Yes, Charlie."

She sat on the edge of the bed with her bare legs tucked up underneath her. Anastasia was still only wearing the pajama shirt but it was buttoned all the way. Sitting like that, head bowed, her blonde hair a veil across her body, she looked small and he wanted to protect her from the world.

"I'm so sorry, honey," he moved toward her and clasped her in his arms as he drew her in. Fuck, those assholes were still chanting outside. There was no hiding from it. They could both hear, "she's a whore". Charles placed a hand on her head and set her forehead on his chest. She smelled of the bed and traces of last night hadn't completely melted. If it weren't for the chanting, he'd suggest they pull the covers over them and go back to their bliss. Maybe the sound of his heart would drown them out. "The cops are here, they should be gone in a few minutes," Charles murmured into her hair.

She nodded, "They'll just come back, Charlie."

"Fuck them, they're idiots."

Anastasia pulled away, her face was pale and her blue eyes almost looked gray. Her lashes were wet with tears. "They're right."

He shook his head, "They're not right, honey. You're not a," now he didn't have the words. He just whispered, "whore. They're religious finatics. They'll go away."

She twisted the little band on the third finger of her left hand. "No, Charlie, they're right. I am not honoring the purity vow. I shouldn't be here."

This was crazy. One minute she was tucked away in his arms and her thighs were still sticky from last night's orgasms and now she shouldn't be here at all? Charles reached for her hand. "Of course you should be here. There's no better place for you right now."

"Living with a man?" she pulled her hand back. "You don't understand, Charlie. You weren't raised in the church."

"Thank god." He shouldn't have said that, her voluptuous mouth had become a straight, strained line in her beautiful face. "You know what I mean."

"I'm beginning to. Charlie," Anastasia got off the bed and walked to the closet. She slowly slid hangers back and forth, as if deciding what outfit was appropriate for leaving him.

"What does that mean?" he was dangerously close to shouting and his brain was telling him to shut up, she's just a little girl. "You're not really taking this seriously, are you?"

"I know you're not," Anastasia whirled around to face him, her hair flew around her small shoulders. "I believe in the purity movement though, Charlie."

"It's just more snake oil," he muttered.

Her hands were on her perfect hips when she said in her authoritative voice, "That's not true. And I don't believe in it because of religious reasons."

She grabbed a pair of Levi's and bent down for her black Converse, about as disguised as she could be. "Then why, Anastasia? Why would you believe in this purity crap if not for the church?" He combed his hand through his gray hair. He'd only been awake for thirty minutes but it already seemed like a day. He sounded exhausted when he said, "Your dad was gods used car salesman."

He had taken it too far and Anastasia's eyes flashed with anger. "Don't you talk about my Daddy anymore, Charlie!" Her jeans were on. She had wiggled them over her juicy bottom and Charles hadn't missed the part where she wasn't wearing panties. His pulse picked up the pace thinking about her bare and just a few buttons away. Dammit, this wasn't the time to be hard.

This was time to fix this because otherwise, she looked serious about leaving.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Anastasia. I didn't mean that." Charles took two steps to her, to close off this ever widening chasm between them. "Why is this so important to you, honey? Explain it to me."

Anastasia twisted her purity ring around her finger, "Tell me, Charlie, were any of those people chanting about you being a whore?"

"No."

"In fact, I bet other men would give you a high five for what we're doing, am I right?" She didn't give him a chance to answer, "I might not know much about the world Charlie but I do know that women are whores and men are studs for doing exactly the same thing."

He couldn't deny it. Here a mob of nuts were outside shouting about her being a whore and Charles was getting a thumbs up. He could probably drink for free anywhere with pats on the back all around if his pals thought that he'd bedded the beautiful girl.

"But, honey," he started but Anastasia wasn't finished.

"I know my daddy made money from the purity movement but it's still a good thing. Women should be valued. We should be treated with respect and love, Charlie."

He nodded.

"Now I've thrown it all away because I fell in love, just like every stupid pregnant girl from the temple." Anastasia began to sob again and she pushed her hair back, out of her face as she slipped a tennis shoe on. "I can't be here. I've got to get away," she whispered between tears.

Charles put his hands up, "Stop, please. Honey, please listen." He had an idea but it required her to stay and to believe that last night and all the other nights weren't just cheap thrills. "If the standard is to be loved and respected, can you see just how much I love and respect you?" He came closer, "cherish you and adore you?" He dropped to his knees and looked up at her, "'til death do us part?"

Did she understand what he was asking?

Anastasia held her arms around herself and rubbed, as if she was freezing. "What are you saying to me, Charlie?" Her melted butter voice delved down the back of his neck and gave Charles goosebumps. He hoped that lasted, he hoped it lasted a lifetime.

"I'm asking you to marry me," he reached for her tiny hand, the left hand, the one that already bore the ring. "I love you. I think you know that, don't you?"

Her forehead was creased and her mouth was clamped together. It definitely wasn't the face of a woman in love. She looked worried and worn like she used to at the compound.

Charles continued, "If you marry me, then you living here isn't anything untoward. We're engaged. We can go to the courthouse tomorrow and then we'll be man and wife."

She bit her bottom lip.

"Then you didn't screw up the purity movement. You were a virgin until you got married," Charles trailed off. Maybe he was being a fool. Maybe reality had come crashing down around them this morning and the girl of his dreams was looking at him in a whole new light.

"What do you think?" Charles whispered.

"Are you trying to save me again, Charlie?" she asked. She sounded aloof but there was a twinkle in her eye.

"No, honey, you'd be saving me."

Anastasia sank to the floor and wrapped her hands around his neck and whispered his name again, like she had last night, but she also said, "Yes."

***

The phone hadn't stopped ringing since the press conference. Anastasia had been perfect in front of the cameras. Charles thought for a fleeting moment that it was almost a pity she wasn't taking over her father's work. She'd kept it simple; Mr. Lanaghan had been embezzling from the church and her father had died of natural causes. She had to get away from a stressful situation. The reporters were eager to know, "What exactly is your relationship with Charles Nelson?"

She had allowed a smile then. "Mr. Nelson was my father's most trusted financial advisor and the reason that I was able to safeguard my inheritance is entirely up to his expertise. We did fall in love and will be getting married tomorrow."

The follow up question made her blush. "Any reason you're getting married so fast? Any surprises you'd like to tell us about Miss Pryce?"

Charles grimaced to himself, Jesus give the girl a break. Anastasia was right, women couldn't win when it came to sex.

"No, sir, no surprises. We just don't see the point in waiting."

It was no surprise that the phone would ring at a quarter to ten while they were on their way to the Cook County courthouse in Skokie to get married. The who was the surprise.

"I don't want to talk to her," Charles shook his head at the caller ID.

"Why not, Charlie?"

"It's my ex-wife," he shrugged.

Anastasia smiled a knowing smile over the top of her Raybans. She was right, Julie would just call again so Charles pressed the talk button. "Good morning."

"You're really getting married?"

"In about thirty minutes."

"You really love this girl?" Julie sounded less pissed off and maybe, just maybe there was a twinge of regret.

Maybe he was the virgin because Charles thought that maybe for the first time, without any reservations he could say, "Yes, I do love her."

"Hmmm." It was all she said and Charles wondered if, like him, the past suddenly made much more sense. "Well, I guess congratulations are in order."

"Thank you."

She hung up and Charles thought there was a good chance he might never talk to her again.

Once he parked the car, Charles looked over at his bride to be. They had decided that since there was no time to plan, that the worst thing would be to try to look like they were getting married. He was in khakis and a polo shirt and Anastasia wore jeans and a pink tee shirt. Her face shone, there was just a brush of mascara on her thick lashes and a hint of gloss on her lower lip. Even like this, she was radiant and did he dare say it, virginal?

"Ready?"

"Wait, there's one thing, Charlie." She stopped him with her left hand and there it was, the ring of consecration. The band that had promised her to god long before Charles had come along. "My ring."

There hadn't been time to get anything either; especially not the two carat, princess cut stunner that Charles imagined perched upon her slender digit.

"We can go shopping for whatever you want, honey."

Anastasia reached into her pocket and presented it to him. It was a ring that resembled a vine that wrapped into a perfect circle. The leaves were mother of pearl and the band was silver and it looked exactly like something a fairy in the woods might wear to call upon for magical powers.

"I want this one, please Charlie. It was my mother's. It's the only thing I have of hers actually."

"It's perfect for you," Charles said as he palmed the ring and tucked it into his pants pocket. "Do I take off your purity ring before I put this one on?"

"Yes," she whispered and leaned in for a kiss. "You told your wife that you love me, Charlie." Her breath touched his mouth and set his nerves humming with pleasure.

He would not marry her with a boner. Sure, it was the courthouse but he still needed little decorum.

"Ex-wife."

"Ex-wife." Anastasia kissed him, just a feathery, light kiss. A taste, a tease, it was like the first kiss and was over before it had begun.

"I'm about to tell a hell of a lot more people."

"Are you sure?" she chewed her bottom lip. "I appreciate you saving me again Charlie, but if you're not sure, then you don't have to."

Charles showed her his hand, "Steady as a rock."

She giggled, "So you're not all liquored up?"

Charles pulled her close and buried his face in the warm nest of her hair. Like this, with her breasts crushed against his chest, he wanted her like this skin to skin in the bed. Mrs. Nelson, utterly loved and adored. "I'm not nervous at all. I want nothing more than to be your husband."

If anything, it should be him talking her into this after his avowal, his future wife cocked her head and drew her shoulders back. She had calm confidence and poise beyond her years. "Then let's go, Charlie."

When the judge asked Charles for the rings, he pulled the twisted, fairy vine from his pocket. With his eyes on hers, Charles felt that the actual marriage took place as he slid the band with the cross from her hand and replaced it with her mother's ring. He'd taken his bride, the rest was just paperwork.

They exited the courthouse arm in arm and Charles gave half a grin at the sound of the reporters as they swarmed and shoved cameras and microphones into the newlyweds' faces.

"Where are you honeymooning?"

"Will you be returning to the Christ Baptist Temple?"

"Do you have anything to say about your age difference?"

Charles had learned already to leave the questions to his wife. He watched her from the back of the throng with pride.

"Would you like to say something to the girls who are part of the purity movement?"

"Yes, I would," Anastasia murmured. "I believe in the movement and most importantly, I believe that young women need to hold themselves in high esteem. The rest of the world doesn't do that so much, so you have to believe in yourself. I'd like to announce that I am starting a scholarship fund for young ladies. My husband and I will have more information for you about that shortly."

She flipped her hair over her shoulder and added in the slow, southern drawl that drove Charles out of his mind. "That's all for now ladies and gentlemen. My husband and I appreciate you respecting our privacy."

It worked because when they arrived home there wasn't one news van or one protester. The front of the Chicago Tribune read, "America's favorite virgin wed to financier, page 12."

"At least we're not the headline," Anastasia said with a wink.

***

Charles sat on the edge of his bed. His pulse drummed at a good clip and he kept changing where he had his hands. Who knew that he'd be the nervous one?

They had decided to take a honeymoon. In fact, it tickled Charles to no end that she'd decided on a road trip in a camper. A road trip with no schedule, no plan, no firm destination, just following the path of whatever caught their eye.

When he had asked her why, when they could have gone by private jet to Paris too, she said "Freedom." Something she'd had precious little of, even in the lap of luxury. So tomorrow, the open road lay before them. Tonight though, tonight was their wedding night and Charles felt more like it was his first time.

Had he ever been with a virgin? If he had, then it was a surprise or he'd been too young to realize that firsts are memories that last a lifetime.

He told himself as he looked at his hands once more that he wanted it to be good for her and that was why he was anxious. It mattered. He loved her and he only wanted to see her eyes filled with that desire that only Anastasia could have. That look that was innocent longing and sweet passion and her open heart. He only wanted to hear her say his name like a prayer.

Tonight they were in his bedroom, which he supposed was now their bedroom. It felt like they'd graduated to adulthood suddenly. Charles had lit candles and placed them on the dresser and nightstands, just enough to light the bed and keep the walls in shadow. It looked like a place where a princess from a fairytale would make love.

Charles ached to have her. God, all the times he'd touched her, kissed her, tasted her and yet, not even a finger inside his virgin girl. It seemed almost overwhelming to think that she was finally going to be his.

"Charlie," she tapped on the door like she was a guest and entered. "I like the candles," she stood still in the light and shadow of the doorway and Charles took it all in.

"I'm glad," he told her but it was all about staring at her. Anastasia wore a white slip, and it was perfect. Her long hair was clipped at the nape of her neck and hung down one shoulder. The other was bare except for the strap. It was obvious to his eye that had studied her from the beginning that she was naked under the slip.

She padded in and took his hands. "You look very serious, Charlie."

He chuckled, "I know, my heart's going a mile a minute. How are you, honey?"

"A little nervous," she whispered. "Does it really hurt? That's all that the old ladies at church would ever say about it."

"Oh no," he grazed her knuckles with kisses, "I would never hurt you."

"I know you wouldn't, Charlie." She said his name, let it roll from her lips softly like a taste of something soft, like ice cream melting on your warm tongue. "It's just what they say to scare you, right?"

"Probably."

She gulped hard and Charles felt a twinge of guilt. "Honey," he pressed one of her little hands to his chest, "we don't have to do this tonight. There's no rush." They had forever hopefully.

She toyed with his bristly chest hair, "No Charlie. I want to." Her hard nipples pressed into the front of the white slip and Charles could see every crease in her buds. "So far, every time you touch me is beautiful."

"Is that so?" he growled a little and the head of his dick poked out of the gap in his boxers, anxious and excited as well. He said he could wait and he would if that was what she wanted but Jesus, he was so beyond ready.

"Make me your wife, Charlie. In your bed."

It was a beautiful way to say it. Yes, he would make her his wife. He would give himself to her utterly and completely, as surely as she was giving herself to him. Charles put his hand out and took her tiny hand in his and led her to the center of their bed.

Anastasia lay back and Charles followed on his knees to her side. "My baby," he called her his favorite name as he kissed her forehead tenderly. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his. The softness of her blushing cheek as he kissed her there as well. Then there was her mouth, the most exquisite mouth he'd ever seen. A small mouth with voluptuous lips and her voice in his ear that had never stopped being anything but enchanting. "My love," he said as he clasped her face in his hands and kissed her.

He kissed her like a husband would, softly, the touch of their tongues meeting and caressing. His breath delved down inside her as he groaned and grabbed her closer. Like a husband, eager to be pressed against her, skin to skin and mouth to mouth. Anastasia's hands were in his hair and her calf wound around his leg.

Her breathless, Oh Charlie," eased into his bones, all liquid and longing. Charles loved to hear his name on her lips, just like that. He wanted her to call out for him when she came, when she came tonight for the first time on his cock.

Jesus, he already dripped precum on her slip. His dick was at full mast, completely escaped from the confines of the boxers. It wiggled against her hip and writhed in the feeling of her slinky fabric.

He kissed along her jaw and then followed her neck to her shoulder and the little white strap. Charles kissed it, down to the scallop of white lace that outlined her décolleté. Anastasia had hard nipples. They had risen and become perfect rosebuds in the front of the slip and Charles imagined that the feel of the fabric on her sensitive skin drove her crazy.