Are You Tiffani Caine? Ch. 03

"Well...I mean I didn't know that the thing with Rachel would end up that way, and it was kind of my choice that it did."

"But Rachel said that she was under orders to get you in bed if she could."

"I mean...yeah. Yeah."

"So the first person you had to meet, you met for sex, and the second person you had to meet, you met for sex. Now you're being sent on a date with orders to get him to ask you out again. Your blackmailer didn't come right out and say you had to sleep with him, but did he have to?"

Sara put her hands over her face and was quiet for long enough that the light changed and they drove another block and a half before she finally admitted, "You're right. It's pretty obvious. What do I do?"

"I think only you can answer that, whether it's better to be some stranger's door prize or go to prison or maybe death row. I know which one I'd pick, because sex by itself doesn't kill you, but you have to make the call for yourself. All I'm saying is, if you meet this guy, be prepared to go all the way. Go like you went to the last blowjob you did. Do it and make him believe you love it. If you aren't prepared to go that far, then call the whole thing off and take the hit, at least you'll live to face trial."

"I should have just let Adam kill me," Sara whispered.

"No. That's just feeling sorry for yourself. You're alive, and I know you believe God kept you that way for a reason. The situation you're in sucks, but that doesn't mean you'll always be in this situation. Keep your chin up, be smart, and remember that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"Nietzsche was a jerk."

"Well yeah, Übermensch my ass, but that doesn't mean he was wrong about everything. And like I said, sex by itself won't kill you, but the survival rate of lethal injection or the electric chair is zero."

They pulled up in front of Rachel's apartment as a few drops of mist wetted Amy's windshield. Sara looked out the window for a long moment before asking, "At what point does my accepting these things become lack of faith? I know Heaven exists and I know I'll go there when I die, so why am I so afraid of it?"

"Are you?"

"I don't know. I don't feel afraid when I think of it, but I'm not accepting it either so I must be afraid."

Amy put her hand on her friend's and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I don't know. Maybe you feel like you have more to do on Earth before you leave."

"I do feel that, but...but what if that's just Satan giving me rationalizations to keep me from accepting justice?"

"It's been a while, but I think it's in Romans where God says He's the one who doles out justice, not man."

"But maybe He's telling me to give myself to the authorities and I'm just too scared to hear Him."

"I...maybe, I don't know. But didn't Tom Carbonaro lay out some convincing reasons why that wasn't the case? You believed him then."

"I know. I just..." Sara trailed off into nothing, letting tears roll down her face unchecked.

"I can't tell you what to do," Amy said quietly. "I couldn't have even back when I was going to Holy Light. But you still believe that God tells you what you should do if you pray. Maybe that's where you should be looking for answers."

She was right, obviously, and Sara wasn't going to get any closer to the truth of it sitting in a car crying. She hugged Amy and thanked her a dozen times or more, and eventually wound up in her apartment with her new purchases. She would take the dresses for dry-cleaning tomorrow and jewelry wasn't anything that she had to worry about, but the shoes...

The shoes.

She took the black pair out of the box and eyed them warily. She didn't want to wear heels that tall, she didn't like them, and she wasn't good at them, and all that was too darned bad because she had three days to get skilled enough at them to at least not do a pratfall when she walked across a room. With a sigh, she slipped them on and headed out to run errands.

Sunday, April 18 - Tuesday, April 20

The service that Sunday was focused on the Book of Revelation, with readings, songs, and the sermon all discussing it. It was a reliable topic for any Pentecostal preacher, as the vividness and urgency of the book made for riveting listening. The congregation was eating out of Pastor John's hand as he described the tribulations of the nations and the three Beasts and the final coming of the Lord into His Millennium.

Unfortunately for Sara, it left her kind of cold. She had always had a problem accepting this book as she knew it must be accepted, as the literal word of God. All these monsters stomping around always reminded her of the kaiju movies she used to watch as a kid, a comparison she knew was blasphemous but which she could never quite keep herself from making. Everything else related to Jesus was easy enough to visualize, but she could never stop imagining sweaty Japanese guys inside rubber Beast suits crushing a model Tokyo. Even the most vehement Christians were often tempted to think of these images as allegories, but Sara never let herself go down that road: every word in the Bible was literally true, which meant that these things would come to pass no matter how hard they were to imagine. If you started thinking one thing in the Bible wasn't literally true, then there was no reason to stop thinking that of more and more things until you stopped believing in anything.

But that wasn't even the major issue with her today. She was filled with questions of a more personal, ethical and moral nature that even intensive prayer last night hadn't answered, and she was hoping for a service that would give her some sort of sign of God's will. Revelation was a wondrous book, but it was notably lacking in guidance for problems like hers. Yes, when the End Times came and the faithful were Raptured up (and like any good Christian she had no doubt she would live to see it) her "do I or don't I" debate would be meaningless; unfortunately for her, the End Times weren't happening right now.

Isaac joined the group heading to the food kitchen (today was Blessed Apostle in St. Paul), but being in a crowded car meant that they couldn't have the conversation they needed to have. It was only when the food had been served and everyone delivered back to their cars at church that they got some alone time, and even then Isaac looked at her warily, finally asking, "How have you been?"

Oh darling, if only I could tell you. "Same. Worse. I don't know. How are you?"

"I pray for you all the time," he said, stepping closer to take her hands in his. "I pray that you see the light on all these thoughts you have."

I pray the same for you. It looks like God hasn't granted either of our prayers. "This is a real problem, Isaac. I don't think you understand that. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I'm just not cut out for celibacy. I'm not strong enough."

"The Lord can give you all the strength you need," Isaac began.

"I don't want to be strong enough," Sara cut him off. "That's what you don't understand. Expressing our love physically is important to me, and I'm beginning to wonder if it's the same for you."

Whoa. I didn't mean to say THAT. But it's true, isn't it?

Regardless, it was too late to take it back, and the look on his face was like she had slapped him. "How can you say that? Don't you think I want it as much as you do?"

"Do you? Because nobody and nothing is stopping us except you."

She saw anger creeping into his eyes, but his voice still calm and loving when he said, "I've prayed about this, darling. I've prayed many, many nights. I've felt the same temptations you have, believe me, and probably more since I'm a man. But the Lord has always been clear to me: we have to wait. And you have to believe that."

"I've prayed too, and He's certainly not telling me that."

"Then this is another lesson for you," he told her firmly. "The Lord says the woman must submit to the man. The Lord says men are deeper in His ways than women are. I'm the man. I'm going to be the husband. I am telling you what the Lord told me, and your duty as a woman and as a wife is to accept that without complaint. You need to stop being prideful. Do you understand that?"

I understand that in three days I might be having sex with another man, and right at this instant it doesn't seem like that bad an idea. Her mind immediately recoiled from the thought and she felt awful for that even entering her mind, but she didn't lower her eyes from his the way she would have just a few weeks before. He was right in what he said, of course: that was the clear word of the Lord. But she still couldn't stop herself before she told him, "You've staked out this position and you won't reconsider no matter how much the woman you love pleads with you. I wonder which of us is being prideful."

Her defiance was unaccustomed and it took him utterly by surprise. She was in her car and heading out of the parking lot before he replied, and that with a phone call. She ignored it, but then she didn't usually answer her phone when driving. Let him leave a voice mail.

When she got home she immediately changed into her heels and took her dresses to the dry cleaner. Her phone kept sounding with calls and texts, but it was three hours before she checked them: "You need to submit to the Lord's will...You need to overcome your sinful lust...You need to pray...You need to recognize my authority in this relationship...You need to beg the Lord for guidance...You need to stop being willful...You need to...You need to...You need to..."

She typed out a whole lot of angry replies and erased them, trying to calm her emotions enough to not lose it completely, but she was angrier at him now than she had ever been before. She knew she was being irrational and she knew that Isaac was right about the scriptural commands, but for the first time since she was saved, those Biblical facts weren't enough to settle her down. She knew she should tell him he was correct and that she would do as he told her, but when she tried to write that to him, her thumbs wouldn't move.

Finally she sent a simple message:

it looks like i need to make a lot of changes

i wonder what changes God is telling you to make

It was snotty, bratty, and inappropriate for a good Christian woman to say to her husband-to-be. Sara felt supreme satisfaction as she hit Send.

Isaac didn't reply that night, but the next morning when she was at the gym she got a message from him simply telling her that the needed to talk and asking her to meet him for dinner at a little Indian place they both loved. She texted him yes and then went back to running the treadmill in spite of the lingering pain from wearing heels so much the day before.

She still had her heels on when she went to work that day, though this time it was the silver pair. For her agony she got several compliments from female coworkers who were glad she had started dressing more "normally", which she wasn't sure how to take. She was, however, certain that she didn't appreciate Josh leaning back in his chair and staring at her butt as she walked by, which was something he had never done before. Always before her dresses had effectively disguised the fact that she even owned buttocks, but apparently the heels were making her backside stick out more, which wasn't welcome news. Still, there was little she could do about it - she had to keep proper heels posture or the pain would be even worse.

The rest of the day passed, no better or worse than normal - though there was one odd thing. There was a woman on another team, Alissa, whom Sara knew slightly. She was a brassy, fun-loving person who always seemed to have a smart remark or a joke to lighten the mood. Sara was arriving at the printer when Alissa was picking up her stuff, and all unbidden Sara had a shockingly vivid image of Alissa grabbing her hand and pulling her into the ladies room, dragging her into a stall, and putting her on her knees. The really shocking thing was how incredibly aroused Sara got at the idea of lifting Alissa's skirt, finding her pussy bare without underwear, and diving in with an eager tongue. The whole fantasy lasted only a few seconds but it left Sara flushed and with sticky panties, and it took the rest of the day for her to put it out of her mind.

She took the bus home, grabbed her car and drove to the dry cleaner to pick up her dresses, then dropped them off at home and gratefully changed into flats for the meeting with Isaac; this dinner was going to be fraught enough without him seeing her in sexy heels.

The Indian place was on Central Avenue. It made its way mostly off of takeout, as it was only big enough for four battered tables inside; the owners always seemed kind of surprised when anyone wanted to have a sit-down meal there. She arrived twenty minutes early and ordered a plate of vegetable samosas to take the edge off her hunger; she had eaten most of them by the time Isaac arrived ten minutes late. She stood and they hugged, albeit a little stiffly, as they exchanged greetings.

Neither began the conversation with an apology, which was perhaps to be expected. Isaac ordered a Diet Coke as he perused the menu; together they decided upon tawa paneer, garlic naan, and achaar pickles for openers, with goat saag, shrimp biryani, and more naan for the entrees. There would be leftovers to split, and Sara found herself looking forward to lunch tomorrow at work.

Food ordered and the waiter come and gone, with their chai in front of them, Isaac finally started. "How are you feeling about things today?"

"Calmer than yesterday. I'm not going to snap at you."

"Well that's good," he replied with his gentle, winning smile that she loved so much. "Did you pray last night?"

"Of course I did, about a whole bunch of things. Did you?"

He looked a little surprised at having it tossed back into his lap, even though her tone had been very mild, almost quiet. "I did. It was a long night. I hate it when we argue."

Sara suppressed the urge to arch an eyebrow - they barely ever argued, and when they did it was usually something trivial that they hashed out before the conversation ended. "I don't like it either, but arguments aren't bad. They just mean that there are things that need to be worked out."

"Do you still feel the same as you did yesterday?"

"You know it wasn't just yesterday, and yes, I still feel the same. Do you?"

"I guess...yes, pretty much. The answers I got when I prayed about it last night confirmed a lot of things in my mind."

What a shocker. Sara just nodded, eyes locked with his, and said, "Me too."

He shook his head a bit. "That's too bad. I'd hoped you would receive some clarity on this."

"I'm very clear. I've prayed to the Lord to tell me if what I'm feeling is Satan tricking me with sensuality, and He doesn't tell me it is. There's nothing of sin in it. I know what I want, and the problem is, it's very different from what you want."

He paused, and she knew him well enough to know that he was arranging his thoughts to make certain he didn't say anything to escalate the situation into another argument. Finally he asked, "Can we talk about it without getting angry?"

It was a serious question, so Sara considered it seriously and realized she was feeling strangely mellow about the whole thing; she wasn't sure why that would be, but she nodded and said, "I can talk about it without getting angry. Can you?"

"I haven't gotten angry about it during any of our talks on the subject."

Sara couldn't suppress a gentle smile. "That's not true and you know it."

"I...OK, you're right, I have gotten upset sometimes. That's my fault. I promise not to get that way tonight."

"Then we can talk without getting angry."

There was a pause while the waiter brought the appetizers, and a slightly longer pause as they made themselves plates. Before they could begin again, an Indian family - including two teenage children - came in and took another of the tables. Finally Isaac was ready, and when he spoke he pitched his tone so the family couldn't hear him. "Can I start by asking a question? It's important."

"Of course." Man, these pickles were crazy delicious.

"Do you understand what the Bible says about the woman submitting to the man?"

"Of course I do, Isaac. That's why I'm still working for Danforth - I know you're wiser than I am. I prayed and the Lord told me you were right, that I do need to stay there, to learn humility and to deepen my faith. It's miserable and it's awful and almost every day I'd rather be anywhere else, but I stay there because you're right about it."

"So what's the difference with this subject?"

"Because when I pray about work, the Lord tells me you're right. When I pray about this, the Lord tells me you're stubborn. The Lord tells me it's not a sin to feel desire for the man you love and want to spend your life with, and the Lord tells me it's not a sin to act on that. It's part of coming together as man and wife - but you know all that. You just won't apply it to yourself."

"Do you know what the Lord tells me when I pray on it?"

"I think I do, but go ahead and tell me."

"He tells me that you're being misled. He tells me that you're being proud and rebellious and willful. He tells me that you aren't listening to His will on this. It's my duty to teach you and guide you."

That infuriated her before, but tonight she felt no irritation. She took a bite of her naan and said, "I remember last year, your father gave a sermon where he talked about the various pitfalls Satan lays to catch us up with pride."

"I remember that too, it was a good sermon."

"It was. He said that one of the most prideful things a person can do is to mistake something they want to do as the will of God."

"And you think that's what you're doing?"

She almost laughed. "No, darling. I think that's what you're doing. I think you're irritated that I'm questioning your decision and you're digging in your heels from pride instead of humbly accepting that what you thought was going to happen might not be what needs to happen."

He recoiled just a bit. "That's...an insulting thing to say, honey."

"But it isn't insulting when you tell me that the Lord talks to you and not me? Isn't that your pride talking? Do you think I haven't prayed just as hard as you have for guidance? Do you think this is easier for me than for you?" Her voice didn't raise a bit as she talked, and there was no rancor in it whatsoever; she could tell that her words were landing harder than they would have had she yelled. "Babe, the Lord says that two people in our position can take pleasure from each other without sin. I'm not the one going against His word on this, you are."

He paused for a long time before answering, and she could see his internal struggle. He really wanted to scold her, but to his credit he held himself back and spoke in the same calm tones she used. "I feel like you don't understand the issues here as deeply or as completely as I do. It's not your fault. I spend all day, every day reading and praying and thinking about these things, and you don't have that luxury. Besides, men are given a deeper understanding of these issues than women are, and that's not your fault either. But that is why the Bible tells us that the husband has to guide and teach the wife. Honey, please, let me guide and teach you."

"Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom."

"For all that is in the world--the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride of life--is not from the Father but is from the world."

"So a wife isn't supposed to crave her husband? A husband isn't supposed to crave his wife?"