Pandora's Box

"It's coming, Spencer," she said as she gasped for air.

"I know, my love," he yelled joyously, "right into your mouth." And he knew that this was only the beginning. He and Stephanie would fuck and smoke every chance they got. Every...single...fucking...chance...."Hahhhhhh!!!" Spencer yelled as he felt every muscle in his body tighten and then release with supreme pleasure. He took deep breaths, filling his body with as much smoke as possible, and held on to Stephanie's head tightly as cum shot all over her face. A feeling of triumph filled him as he lifted his head high and looked up towards the heavens.

"It's coming, Spencer," the face dripping with his jizz said, but it was no longer Stephanie's face.

"What is?" he asked out of breath as he looked down at the face of the mysterious Asian woman he had been fucking in the dining room.

"The end of days," the face replied with a wicked smile. Within an instant, the woman's beautiful eyes turned a bright red, and Spencer felt a searing heat consume his body.

-----------------------

Spencer sat up in bed with a gasp. "What the fu..?" he said. His mind raced through the images of his dream, and such wonderful images they were. But he also realized that his underwear was soaked through with a thick and sticky substance. "Oh, no," he said ruefully as he touched the wet bulge in his underwear. "What a frickin' mess," he whispered while reaching for the tissue box on his nightstand and proceeded to clean up the goop which was already congealing in his shorts.

He got up from the bed and threw the tissues in the trashcan, then got down on his knees. He needed to pray. He needed to ask God for forgiveness. He clasped his hands together...but nothing came to mind. Indeed, he asked himself how he could honestly ask for forgiveness for something of which he had no control over. And even if he did have control over it, he wouldn't be sorry that the dream occurred. How can you repent over something you don't regret?

Spencer looked up at the ceiling and felt compelled to say, "That felt pretty good, God."

PART 4 -- Confessions

Spencer looked down at his watch as he sat in the pew of his father's church. As always, he was the only one to sit in the front row -- not because he was brave, but because that is where his father wanted him to sit. The watch said 8:29 am. Carol, an older African American woman in her sixties, played the organ as the congregation filed in. Carol was his father's trusted secretary, but also had been a surrogate mother (or at least grandmother) since he was five. He was amazed at how well she could endure the preacher's mood swings and temper tantrums, but endure them she did. Spencer looked at his watch again; 8:30. "Showtime," he whispered to himself.

Suddenly a side door in the front of the meeting house swung open and Father Greg, dressed in a dark suit and tie, walked quickly and purposefully toward the lectern. Any moment now he would launch right into his sermon. "I have but a simple question for you all," he said softly as he looked over his flock. "Why do you hate God?"

Spencer groaned silently to himself, for he knew the direction of this sermon all too well. So, too, of course, did the lost souls who continued to come to this Pentecostal church every Sunday, but they never seemed to tire of it. The congregation remained silent, hanging on the priest's every word.

"Really," the preacher continued inquisitively, "I want to know why you all hate God?" Father Greg walked down the steps from the pulpit and proceeded to move through the aisle that separated the pews. "George," he said kindly to someone in the fourth row, "why do you hate God?"

"Father Greg, I love God," the young father answered longingly as he held on to the hands of his wife and child sitting on either side of him.

"LIAR!!!!" the preacher roared back, and George sunk low into his seat at the rapprochement.

"I have no doubt," the priest continued as he turned towards the whole congregation, "that everyone in this room would tell me that they love God; that they love him with their whole heart." He stopped, pointed his finger at the flock, and said fiercely: "God hates liars! You lie to me. You lie to yourself. And you lie to God."

Father Greg was back up on his pulpit, looking down on the lost souls before him. "What have you done to live by his commandments? Oh, you come to church every Sunday, yes, but what have you done to stop the mass murder of hundreds of thousands of unborn children in this country? What have you done to stop the perverts and sodomites from advancing their 'gay agenda' in our society?"

Spencer, who never shared his father's ultra conservative views, tuned out the litany of social ills his father began to detail, from sex and violence on television to the widespread use of "the pill." He dared not attract his father's attention by looking down at his watch, but instead counted the seconds, hoping against time that his father would tire and turn to his hymnal book.

Ten mind-numbing minutes later, Father Greg finally said something that caught Spencer's interest. "It is," the preacher thundered, "the opening act to the end of days!"

This was not the first time Spencer had heard his father use the phrase, but hearing it spoken aloud the morning after his wet dream the night before when the mystery Asian woman said it to him was clearly a strange coincidence. And yet rather than follow up on the phrase, his father, considerably calmer now, began to tell the Biblical story of Jezebel.

"Jezebel," said the preacher with the tone of a professor giving a lecture, "was wife to Ahab, ruler of the Northern Kingdom of Israel. She turned him away from God to worship the Phoenician god, Baal. She was the power behind the throne and assured that temples to Baal received the blessing of royal patronage. Jezebel continued to rule by manipulating her son who ascended to the thrown after the death of her husband. But in so doing," Father Greg continued as he put on his reading glasses and opened up his Bible, "she made an enemy of God." The preacher thumbed through the pages."First Kings, Chapter 21, Verse 23: 'And of Jezebel the Lord also said, "The dogs shall eat Jezebel within the walls of Jezreel."'" Father Greg looked down at his flock as they sat waiting on his every word for the denouement to this story. "And so the Lord," he said quietly as he took off his glasses, "would have his way with this false prophetess. When Elijah anointed Jehu as king with instructions to topple the house of Ahab, she was thrown from the palace window dressed in her finery and her face and eyes painted."

A dead calm hung in the air as Father Greg stared down at the congregation.

"But Jezebel still lives," he began, his voice rising in a steady crescendo. "Oh yes, her spirit still lives among us, ready to turn us to evil; to turn us away from God.Revelation, Chapter 2, Verse 20." The preacher quickly opened his Bible. "But I have this against you, that you tolerate that woman Jezebel, who calls herself a prophetess and is teaching and seducing my servants to practice sexual immorality and to eat food sacrificed to idols." He closed the book with a loud SNAP and pounded it on the top of his lectern. "Satan can take many forms, but most often the shape of a woman. Will you be prepared to resist?" He looked around the room with a wild expression on his face. "WILL YOU BE ABLE TO RESIST?!"

Spencer began to hear sobs and whimpering throughout the congregation, and he knew that his father had them like putty in his hands. He respected -- and so never underestimated -- his father's ability at persuasion. The most hardened soul could be transformed into a quivering mound of jelly after one of his father's sermons. Spencer expected his father to convey the lesson of the sermon next; and then Carol would begin to play the organ as the congregation would shout plenty of "amens" and praise God for using the preacher as his most trusted instrument.

But that's not what happened next. Instead, Father Greg offered a tearful confession. "I was not...able to resist." Spencer listened with rapt attention as the preacher continued.

"I know the power of temptation. I have experienced it. The pleasure that flows from nicotine, from alcohol...fromlust."

This was a side of his father Spencer could never believe. Was he just making this up?

"I lost everything because I listened to Jezebel," Father Greg said softly on the verge of weeping; "my church; my pride;" he looked down at Spencer and said, "and almost my family. I don't know if God has forgiven me." The preacher pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes. "I pray that He has. But when I was reborn twelve years ago, I made a vow to Him then and there that I would fight Satan with every breath in my body - if only my son would be spared." And with those last words, Father Greg looked down at Spencer with what appeared to be tenderness in his eyes. But this tenderness vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "The sins of the father," Father Greg said sternly, "must NOT be visited upon the son." Spencer turned away filled with dread as he began to think not only of what he and Stephanie were doing in the backseat of her car last night, but also of his wet dream. Did his father know? Could he read his mind?

After a full minute of awkward silence in the hall, Carol began to play the organ and the congregation rose to its feet shouting, "Amen!"

*************************

When Stephanie woke up Sunday morning, she felt like a Hummer had parked on her chest. She turned over on her side and reached for a small trash can sitting next to her bed in which she deposited a throat full of phlegm. "Oh God," she said as she rolled over on to her back, putting her hand over her pounding head. Why did she drink so much? And the smoking? Not even when she was a smoker back in high school had she smoked so many at one time. The burning sensation in her chest reminded her as to why she quit -- and why she should stay quit.

She looked over at the other bed, assuming that Jezzie was as hung-over as she was, but the bed was empty. Stephanie sat up quickly to get a closer look. Had the bed been slept in at all?

On Stephanie's dresser was a note. "Something came up early this morning and I had to fly. Today's an important day for you. Meet me at Lee's tonight at 11:30 and I'll change your life forever -- if you're willing."Oh man, Stephanie muttered. Could she take another night like last night? "P.S. -- 'Thought you could use these today to feed the urge." Stephanie knew exactly what "these" were, noticing the three packs of Pandora 120's on the dresser; there was also a pack of 100s with a post-it note attached that read, "For your man, when he's ready." Stephanie chuckled.When would that church boy ever be ready for a cigarette, she thought to herself. Moreover, the last thing she wanted at that moment was a cigarette.

Stephanie sat back down on the bed and ran her hand through her long black hair, trying to massage away the headache. She thought about her night with Jezzie at Lee's. Was it the Chinese beer that gave her those wild fantasies in the diner? Stephanie felt her pussy begin to moisten as she replayed in her mind the image of her sucking that Asian thug's dick.

"Stop it!" she said to herself out loud. She was committed to Spencer now. The old Stephanie was dead and buried. "No thank you," Stephanie said as she opened up the top drawer of the dresser and tossed the packs of Pandora inside. "You can keep those, Jezzie my dear."

Stephanie headed down the hallway with a towel and a change of clothes to take a shower. As the water hit her face, she was suddenly reminded of a wild dream she had last night. The images were hazy now, but she remembered Lisa, Spencer, and even Spencer's father were all in it; and Jezzie, always Jezzie somewhere in the background. What was it the voices kept saying? Oh yeah, "It's coming,"whatever that means. Was that before or after she got a shit-load of cum in her mouth from...was it Spencer?? She looked around the shower room. Would anyone notice if she began to finger herself?

"'Morning, Stephanie," a voice suddenly said in the stall next to Stephanie's.

"Hey," she replied to the dorm mate as she casually moved her hand away from her crotch and back to washing her hair.

Back in her room, Stephanie decided to spend the day with her sister. Like Spencer, her home was relatively close to the university but she chose to live on campus for the full college-experience (while Spencer had to beg his father for such an opportunity). But whereas Spencer was required to be home every Saturday night, Stephanie simply checked in from time to time so that her sister knew she was okay.

Stephanie opened up the top drawer of her dresser to pull out a sweater when she spotted the packs of Pandora. An hour had passed since she woke up and the tightness in her chest had loosened considerably. She was even starting to crave a smoke. "No!" she said with forced determination as she closed the drawer again. She wondered if she shouldn't just throw them away...but they were Jezzie's, after all. She decided to leave them there for her.

Stephanie picked up her purse and headed out to her car.

++++++

Spencer hated Sundays. There was nothing to do around the house since his father didn't own a TV; and the only Internet access was in the church offices next to the Parish house (and he tried to stay clear of his father as much as possible while he was home). He was dying to see Stephanie again, but that wouldn't happen until tonight when he was back on campus. In the meantime, he would have to suffer the boredom and loneliness of home.

But just as he was feeling sorry for himself while he sat on the living room couch, his cell phone began singing "Witchy Woman" -- a ringtone that Stephanie had chosen specifically for her calls to him.

"Hey," he said, grateful to get her call.

"Watcha doin?" Stephanie asked, feeling frisky after thinking so much about her dream with Spencer.

"Oh, you know...same old thing on Sundays."

"That bad, huh," she said.

Spencer heard what sounded like a car horn. "Are you on the road?"

"Yep. 'Heading home to see my sis. 'Haven't seen her for a few weeks, so I thought I better check in."

"I wish I could join you." Spencer didn't add that he thought Stephanie's sister was totally hot. "Listen," Spencer continued, "I'm sorry again about last night."

There was an awkward moment of silence on the phone before Stephanie said, "That's okay." After a few more seconds she said, "Hey, I got a new roommate!"

"What happened to Susan?" Spencer asked.

"Appendicitis bursting or something. Anyway, she's pretty cool. She took me to this noodle place last night and we gabbed all night." Stephanie failed to include the small details that they had also been drinking and smoking. "We should try it out together."

"Yeah, sounds great," Spencer said, feeling a bit dejected that Stephanie might already be seeking other forms of companionship due to his inability to perform.

"Anyway, I better get off before a cop pulls me over. I'll see you tonight at the Marketplace, okay?" The Marketplace was a collection of shops and restaurants across the street from the campus where students hung out. Stephanie and Spencer always got a cup of coffee together on Sunday nights before heading back to their dorms. "I miss you," Stephanie said sincerely.

"Me, too," Spencer replied with a whisper. After he hung up, he felt even more alone...that is, until his cell phone rang again.

"Hello?"

"Hi Spencer, this is Carol. Your Dad would like to see you over in the parish office."

PART 5 -- Kissing a Smoker

Economically, Stephanie was no poor, struggling college student, nor could one even categorize her as middle-class. Her parents had been wealthy, and all of that wealth was passed down to her and her sister when her parents died. Lynn, older by 10 years, was in charge of the family trust, but Stephanie never lacked for anything under her sister's care (she had, after all, bought her the Mercedes as a high school graduation gift.) And she had credit cards with more than sufficient lines of credit that she was permitted to keep provided that she didn't abuse them.

Lynn continued to live in their parents' lavish but compact McMansion in the exclusive neighborhood where she and Stephanie grew up. She didn't have to work (she could have played the debutante like her Mother), but she enjoyed her job as a computer engineer. It kept her busy; too busy, certainly, for a steady boy friend (though she had no objection to bringing over a boy-toy from work every once in a while now that Stephanie was finally living on campus.) On this particular Sunday morning, she was sitting at the dining room table catching up on all the newspapers that she never seemed to get through during the week.

"Hey," Lynn said as she watched Stephanie emerge from the entry hallway after hearing the front door open and close. "How's it goin'?"

"It's going," Stephanie replied as she sat down with a thud on a chair at the table and fingered through some of the newspapers. "I'm bored."

"Well, welcome to the house of boredom," Lynn replied as she continued to scan the headlines. "Why aren't you with Spencer, anyway?"

"He's at church," Stephanie said mockingly as she continued to toss aside section after section of the newspaper.

"Well, that's what you get for dating a choir boy," Lynn teased.

Unfazed, Stephanie, continued to finger through the newspapers, not really looking for anything in particular. "These are all last week," she said, not really caring one way or the other as to whether she had today's newspaper or not.

"Everything okay with you guys?" Lynn asked delicately. Since the passing of their mother, Lyn had always felt an obligation to play the role of both parent and sister -- which was hardly an easy task.

"Yeah, they're okay," Stephanie replied unconvincingly as she gently pushed all the papers in front of her away.

Figuring that when her sister was ready to open up she would, Lynn went back to her newspaper. Stephanie, however, was dying for a cigarette as she thought back to when she and her sister would sit at this same table every day and smoke together after her Mom died. She started to wish that she had taken those Pandora packs with her after all. She reached into her purse, looking for a piece of gum, when her hand stopped cold over a once familiar shape.

"No way," Stephanie whispered as she grasped the rectangular object and lifted it out of the purse. "How the fuck...?"

Lynn snapped her head up upon hearing the "F" word and was stunned to see Stephanie holding a pack of cigarettes. "What are you doing with those?"

Stephanie, genuinely surprised, replied, "I don't know. I mean, they were given to me by a roommate, but I distinctly remember leaving them in my dorm room." Stephanie opened up her purse and found two more packs. "This is sooo weird. How the hell did...?" She reasoned that she must have put them in her purse after all. She beamed a wide grin at her sister. "Well, as long as I got 'em...." She began to unwrap the pack and proceeded to pull out one of the long 120s.

"Are you smoking again?" Lynn asked disapprovingly as she went back to reading her newspaper.

"No...well, not since last night anyway." She pulled the cigarette under her nose and smelled the wonderful menthol flavor. "It was the first one I've had in, what...three years?" To her surprise she also found a lighter in her purse, which she used to power that 120 up. She sucked hard and inhaled; what a wonderful hit. She cocked her head back and blew a long stream into the empty space above the table. She loved that feeling. There was something so thrilling about exhaling a cloud of smoke into a smoke-free room. She took another puff and inhaled it deeply into the base of her lungs; she closed her eyes as she exhaled through her nostrils. Perhaps because of the conditioning of her lungs the night before, this Pandora was better than any of the ones she smoked with Jezzie.