Maximum Badonkadonk Ch. 13

Four and a half hours later I was still burnt out, but antsy at what I'd find at church sitting beside my clueless mother. Thankfully I was able to get her to stop momentarily for takeout coffee and a Danish having slept like a brick right through breakfast. My mother was preoccupied on her phone with one of her sewing circle gossiping about some nonsense that happened on the job.

My head was throbbing as I sat there sipping a latte feeling like I was suffering from a hangover. Even though it happened to Charity, I was still feeling the burn from the shitty parenting meted out from her unseen mother. After listening to that heartbreaking exchange, I had no desire to ever meet the woman in person.

"I didn't want Jayson to do this because I know how much he loves me; we've been together for so long and I really blame myself for all of this ma'am. You see, Jayson was defending my honor." I had my earbuds in doing a bit of research on my troubled friend for further clarity.

I'd found and bookmarked the video detailing part of Charity Gilbert's fall from grace on social media. Apparently she'd tried to gaslight the public in an attempt to hide her own culpability for social crimes that engulfed her entire campus even breaking a legendary four year winning streak.

Her former boyfriend obviously had nothing between the ears completely in her thrall. Things could've been different for Charity if she just knew when to take a step back from her evil deeds. Listening to her mother talk last night left no doubt where the blame lay for the girl's bad parenting.

I ended up going down an internet hole riding to church finding some video footage Charity definitely wouldn't have wanted me seeing. My heart went out to her after watching a number of student filmed videos, some tik toks of her being utterly pummeled by some muscular looking dark skinned sister.

This demonic woman literally punched and pounded Charity into mush going so far as to rip her top open exposing her large pneumatic breasts to the gathered crowd. Another clip saw the same woman cold-cock the school security guard with enough force to lay him out atop some students.

This female whoever she was, rampaged almost unopposed until a number of guys and some teachers piled on top of her pinning the hellcat to the ground. Charity Gilbert looked like a murder victim sprawled topless and bloody out on the lawn in front of her high school for everyone to see.

Her own nemesis Jaleel friend or foe, was indeed the right hand of God. It was cathartic bringing with it an understanding of her motivations post fall. I bookmarked all of the clips in case I needed them. At this moment I was intrigued to see how things would play out this morning.

Things were already in progress and thankfully my mother indicated only staying for Sunday school probably having something planned for the afternoon. She gave me a little drama adjusting my tie as we walked into the church lobby finding some people gathered there in the lobby signing the guest book. The first thing that caught my eye at the periphery was Tressie Fisher herself. She was greeting what appeared to be new visitors to the church directing their attention to the guest book.

"I'll go in first if you want to talk to her son." I ignored my mother's cringy attempts at matchmaking grateful for the opportunity to pursue my interests outside of her view.

Tressie was wearing this flowing white gown that looked almost Edwardian in design sheer enough that her slip was detectable underneath. The true nature of her voluptuous figure was readily apparent in this getup.

I glanced around noticing some of the other mostly female ushers wearing the white dresses as well with these kind of yamaka looking hats pinned to the back of their heads. One of them handed me a program with a easy going smile offering to escort me to seating, but I politely declined in non-mute fashion. I glanced up finding Tressie looking at me while several people were still engaged in conversation with her.

Her eyes were covered in these large, oversized sunglasses that gave her this cult leader like vibe from a distance. We met each other halfway in the lobby right in front of the double doors leading onto the main area. Some prerecorded music was flowing from the P.A. System as Tressie gave me the once over in my simple black suit.

"Surprised you showed up today; especially since you asked me to gather everyone for a non-existent meeting yesterday."

"Sorry about that, something happened yesterday." I chaffed inside remembering the meeting I'd asked her for which inadvertently started her affair with Charity's father. It was a theory I'd formulated on the drive to church.

"What was her name?" Tressie deadpanned sounding irritated in a manner that I wasn't about to get used to anytime soon. It was the same way she spoke to me after our last hookup.

"Stop it."

"Why'd you show up today?"

"Supporting a friend; did she apologize to you last night, uhm excuse me, this morning?" Tressie looked away with this strained expression on her face before regarding me.

"I should've known she ran to you." The shades covering her eyes gave Tressie this soulless quality.

"Take your glasses off."

She reached up slowly removing the glasses revealing a bruise around her right eye. It looked wicked framing it in a reverse letter C which gave immediate legitimacy to Charity Gilbert's story of their scuffle post coitus with Mr. Gilbert bearing witness. I didn't know what to say only tilting my head to the side scratching my temple as she covered her eyes again.

"Happy?" Tressie stalked off leaving me alone in the lobby.

I was escorted to a seat beside my mother by one of the ushers looking across the aisle noticing Justin and Stacey sitting in the front row right behind Tressie's piano adjacent to the pulpit. Vicky's normally sloppy looking younger sibling was noticeably cleaned up while the boy wore a long sleeved shirt and slacks.

It seemed Ms. Fisher was providing some much needed parenting to the children as I noticed a unwelcome sight in the appearance of her older brother "Demon" sitting there in a disheveled looking light blue two piece suit and cream colored shirt that did nothing for his ghoulish appearance.

"Good morning." I was tapped on the shoulder finding Phoebe sitting alone in the church pew behind me.

"Good morning ma'am." We exchanged pleasantries as Tressie began playing some music to open the sermon.

The first thing I noticed was the flawless play as her fingers danced across those piano keys revealing a long purposely hidden talent. I'd been told it was Tressie's way of silently protesting by playing the piano with two left feet as it were, but this morning brought with it more revelations.

There was a microphone stand mounted on the grand piano and before I could process what was about to happen, Tressie Fisher began singing "Be Grateful" along with the choir. I was shocked at the power and soulful quality of her voice. It carried the audience along with it on a journey.

She wasn't even looking at the music sheets mounted in front of her, playing from memory. I actually got goosebumps while some of the people in the audience started applauding while she was still singing. Her singing voice was incredible prompting me to clap too. The pastor appeared from this little door just under the choir stand already starting his sermon just as she was finishing up.

Unexpectedly, Tressie kept playing lightly perfectly accompanying the pastor's bombastic sermon. More than one of the older women in the audience got the "holy spirit" as the posted ushers quickly ran to their aide.

I found myself watching Tressie more than the pastor earning a playful nudge from my mother who probably though I'd fallen head over heels for Ms. Fisher. Honestly, I was going over the woman's backstory in my mind finding the abject tragedy in it because the former Pastor Grey had been right all along.

Tressie Fisher was indeed destined to have her own church one day or would have if he hadn't devoured her whole. My gaze traveled to the church elders sitting on either side of the pulpit which included her own stoic mother. I wondered what happened in that backroom meeting where it was decided Tressie would be sacrificed for the "greater good".

"You better stop that staring or I'm gonna get you when we get home." My mother whispered still believing I was enraptured with the tragic woman playing the grand piano.

I felt a twinge of Tressie's pain understanding her secret outrage and rebellion. My gaze shifted to Demon noticing his slumped posture directly behind his sister.

He was slumped over hands covering his face. Justin was rubbing his back trying to comfort his uncle while Tressie continued playing to the pastor's words about redemption and renewal.

My mother nudged me again but motioned in the opposite direction taking my gaze with her.

"Oh wow." At my back across the church, Tressie began singing "Oh Happy Day" in perfect tandem with the choir.

A single file of children were walking along the wall like ducklings all dressed in these little white shirts and pants matching Tressie and the rest of the church staff except the pastor. I kept watching as the line got longer until some older kids started walking out in their white diaphanous outfits. All of them were doing this sort of barefoot side to side to the music and Tressie's voice. She was actually getting these really high falsetto notes that were audibly jarring.

"OMFG." I just said the acronym, but still got a little punch in the bicep from my mother.

Charity Gilbert appeared head covered in a white bonnet, the rest matching everyone in front of her. She was walking to the music and Tressie's voice just like the children I front of her, but her head hung low peering at the carpet. As she got closer, I noticed her fists tightly balled up holding the material of her sacrificial frock.

Her knuckles were flexing with the floor length hem gathered up exposing her ankles. To make matters worse, Mr. Gilbert was the last person in the line anchoring the procession. Phoebe leaned in resting her elbows on the back of my pew watching intently. There was no doubt she didn't notice as well.

"What're you doing?" My mother whispered panicked as I lost my shoes and socks before emptying my pockets.

"Helping a friend." I doffed my suit jacket noticing Phoebe folding it as I walked out in front of the pulpit joining Charity to some considerable applause.

Mr. Gilbert was there in a white t-shirt and the same white almost sheer looking highwater slave pants. We exchanged glances, but he lost the test of wills as I gingerly took Charity's hand in mine.

She looked up at my face, bottom lips quivering as the little pool opened up automatically at the end of the aisle.

"I'm on your side Charity."

Both of us got baptized that morning.

I figured she'd eaten enough crow to last a lifetime. My mother was happy that her son achieved Rockstar status as evidenced by the raucous applause and place sitting in a chair under the pastor's pulpit for the rest of the sermon. I was cast as some last minute convert who didn't want to be left behind at the pearly gates. Charity sat beside me, both of us still holding hands. She didn't look at my face beyond a glance or two content to stare at her own bare feet.

Nobody seemed to notice her father watching Tressie Fisher playing the piano completely enchanted.

From my point of view, she was looking at him in the same fashion.

Phoebe was taking a ton of pics with her phone as an usher lightly tapped her on the shoulder wagging a gloved finger. There was some laughter in the audience at the exchange.

We ended up staying for the rest of the service because of my decision but my mother was okay with it. There was a bi-monthly bake sale held after service along with some other charitable side events presided over by Tressie Fisher and the youth council I was supposed to be a part of along with Phoebe. I decided to get my mother a pecan pie and Sock-It-To-Me Cake as a consolation for my chivalry. Phoebe who was managing the register, tugged on my sleeve after I bought the items.

"Hey, Charity wants a minute of your time." Nobody could hear us over the raucous chatter in the background. I noticed my mother watching from a distance still smiling.

"Now?"

"Don't worry about it, the basement floor is gonna be stripped and waxed. They're gonna have the Sunday school remodeled. While you were gone, they turned the storage closet downstairs into a little kiddie locker room. Charity's probably just finished changing right about now."

"I don't know about this."

"She probably just wants to thank you for giving her moral support this morning."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"Come on, it was really nice what you did for her; just go down there, okay?"

At this point my mother was expecting me to sneak off probably stoked that I'd supposedly ended up with another one of her picks. She'd tried to get me to talk to Charity Gilbert that afternoon unaware that I'd been extorted out of a hundred dollars or more. Things worked out quite nicely physically speaking but arrived with the unintended consequences being an unlikely friendship with benefits, probably a little more if I wanted.

"I'm going out later this afternoon; might not be back until tomorrow son." The cringe was real as my mother winked disappearing with the baked goods.

I was left alone in front of the church looking around finding Mr. Gilbert doing his best not to look lovestruck standing a few feet from Tressie Fisher still talking and holding court with people much older than her twentysomething years, much less the fifty plus guy she was in a relationship with. Then my eyes found someone who made my blood instantly boil over.

Motherfucking Bentley, the guy I'd turned Vicky Stone over to the last night we were together. Seeing him standing there with her siblings brought the pain of her absence. He was holding his bible looking tragically out of place.

I imagined he was out of place as I caught Justin's eye.

I stalked off before the kid could approach me going back into the crowded church lobby. I had to squeeze past a few people noticing Tressie's mother and some of the elders talking with some politician I recognized from some television spots.

Nobody was watching as I navigated the short stairwell down into Tressie's Sunday school and covert crash pad. The place was indeed upended with all the tables and chairs stacked in the corner waiting to be taken out onto the adjacent playground by the janitors.

"Charity?" I called out weakly.

"Hey, come in here." I turned around finding her head sticking out of the former storage closet. She was still wearing the bonnet on her head grinning at me.

"Uhm, I can wait while you get dressed." I noticed an eyebrow pencil in her hand.

"Get your ass in here."

I timidly stepped up to the door prompting Charity to grab a handful of my suit jacket and shirt yanking me inside. Both of her fists were at my lapels as she literally slammed me into the wall just inside the door kissing me wantonly with plenty of tongue shoved into my mouth.

She stood on her tip toes making out with me still wearing the white gown provided by the church for her baptism. She broke the kiss leaving me visibly flushed. Charity backed away turning to a large satchel purse packing up a smaller makeup bag dropping it inside. She glanced back at me smiling in a way that made me feel like a piece of raw meat.

"I think its time." Charity pulled the bonnet from her head letting her immaculate Ghanaian braids drape over her shoulders as she faced me.

"Time, for what?" I raised an eyebrow.

She reached down pulling the billowy garment over her head dropping it to the floor putting her hands on her hips grinning. Underneath her frock was this skimpy lace covered underwire brassiere and the skimpiest thong I'd ever seen in my life, both burgundy colored matching her rich chocolate skin.

Her large spongy looking breasts were a abomination of ridiculous cleavage as she bodied me back into the door. Charity Gilbert was getting off on my wordless reaction to her body looking up deep into my eyes before glancing down at my bulge cupping it.

"Hey, look at this and tell me what you see." I glanced down finding her finger hooked into the waistband of that thong pulling it outward. Her muff was clean shaven, bare and inviting as all get out.

"What do you see?"

"Your pussy."

"No, tell me what you don't see." She asked on the verge of joyously giggling.

"Maxi pad? "

I answered correctly making her chortle as she wrapped her arms around me for more torrid making out raising a knee into the underside of my crotch. We'd been together numerous times, but this was different considering the circumstances and our immediate surroundings. Charity was energized and ready to fuck caring little to nothing what was going on around us.

We were interrupted by light knocking at the door just as she got my zipper halfway down. Both of us exchanged nervous glances knowing my presence was unexplainable beyond the obvious. The storage closet had been converted into a little alcove of wooden lockers, three on each side with drawers and overhead shelving. I'd later learn that a local school would be using the converted Sunday school as a weekday kindergarten class. The knocking continued almost nonstop.

"Hello?" Charity responded with a hand covering my mouth.

"Uhm, I was looking for my friend; I think he come down here. He's a really nice man and uh, is he in there ma'am."

It was Justin.

"Sorry little boy, its just me in here and I'm not decent. I'm putting on my clothes, so you have go back upstairs."

"Yes ma'am, my auntie Tressie told me he was down here; I'm gonna go back upstairs now."

We listened to his footfalls and the eventual loud slamming of the heavy door leading back upstairs to the church lobby. Both of us stared at the wooden door leading out into the basement waiting for a few minutes until the coast was clear. Charity's eyes began to become skits again, her flushed cheeks puffing up into that pout from hell, but she abruptly got control of herself running her hands through her hair.

"Call you later, alright?"

"Yeah."

Luckily I slipped out when I did because I passed a few kids and their parents coming down the stairs as I went back up to the lobby. Part of me suspected Tressie Fisher of sending them down as well to interrupt whatever he thought might be going on in her Sunday school.

My suspicions were confirmed when I spied Justin across the church lobby talking to his aunt / cousin. It seemed as if Tressie could feel my eyes returning my gaze with a glowering scowl. I didn't say anything as I walked out side dialing up a car. Oliver was hanging out in the front of the yard without Phoebe talking to Deidrick.

The place was jumping with activity as I took my leave in a rented Uber.

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Predictably my mother was out for the rest of the day and the evening figuring I'd be having a romantic encounter with Charity Gilbert. This left me an afternoon of lazing about as my thoughts flittered about between the aborted basement tryst with my supposed mentor who was starting to flip the dynamic between us through this odd bit of serendipity. I thought about the emotional turmoil wondering if I should wish for an uneventful afternoon instead.

My phone predictably rang at that exact moment.

"Phoebe, what's up; you calling to find out how it went with Charity or did she already tell you?"

"I know about the Tressie hate; saw her sending that little boy downstairs."