St. Andrew's

Please Note: This story is purely fiction

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One of the characters is an Episcopal priest, for those who don't know and will try to correct me: Episcopal Priests can and do marry. They are properly referred to as Priests, not Ministers

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Thank you & Enjoy.

The cold little church was packed to capacity. Candles flickered along the center isle. Garlands of evergreen swayed a rhythmically as the monotone choir sang "oh come let us adore him" as joylessly as they could. Parishioners in their wool coats and parkas sang along with a similar, elated drone. In the back by the foyer, I wondered how I ended up here.

I hadn't come back to New England for Christmas in ten years. There was no point anymore. Most of my family had moved elsewhere. My friends all had children now and were showing them off to family members in other parts. But there I was, alone, wearing too thin of a coat, in the back pew of the old church on Christmas Eve. I don't even go to church anymore. Feels like I put in enough church time as a teenager to do me for life. Lost, I glanced around the memory soaked sanctuary.

I had lived in Southern California for a decade. Moved as soon as I got my degree. The icy wind seeping through the building cracks chilled my thinned marrow. I couldn't sit though the whole service, lovely as it was. My feet were numb in my stylish stiletto boots. Stilettos on ice - not a good idea. Though I had sheathed my legs in what I thought to be warm tights, the one thin, nylon layer was insufficient against the Nor'easter gusting outside. My form fitting wool turtleneck dress also failed against the weather. That arctic wind shot though my ineffective clothing like frozen daggers. I could not make it though to communion.

Half way though the second verse of Silent Night - that verse people sing through their noses because they don't really know it - I slipped into the parish hall hopping to find some kind of warm beverage and maybe a radiator to sit on. Why am I here?

I really didn't know. I was itching to get out of town and I found myself making reservations to Logan Airport on Christmas Eve. I didn't even have a place to stay. After wandering around Boston like a lost Popsicle for hours, I got on the T and found myself at church singing "Glory to the new born king!"

In the parish hall, there was indeed reprieve form the cold. A roaring fire in the ancient hearth and gurgling urns of hot seasonal beverages beckoned my chilled soul. The room was cozy, just the way it had always been. It was kind of like a cross between a living room and a library. There were new drapes and someone had reupholstered the chairs, but it felt the same. Smelled homey. In the corner stood the traditional scraggily tree from the Drexal's back acres, haphazardly decorated with ornaments made by the children of the church school. Downstairs the ladies of the Guild were baking cozy things that involved apples, cranberries and too much powdered sugar. The scent wafted through the vent. I poured my self some cider, sat by the fire and began to thaw. The badly sung hymns drifted in from the church and I finally felt right. Like this was all there needed to be. Yes, this was nice. I took off my flimsy coat and settled into my chair, stretched my feet out to the hearth and stared contentedly into the fire. It was good. Warm, finally.

"Cinderella! We never could get you out of that fireplace could we?!" I heard a man say from across the room. I could not believe it. They used to tease me at youth group because I'd always sleep as close to the fire as I could - almost in the fireplace - on retreats. Some of them also called me "Cinderella" because my strict parents never let me go out. I was always stuck at home doing chores. I jumped up out of the wingback chair to see a young man in a priests' collar. "Look at you!" I said recognizing my dear old friend Luke Johns. Hadn't seen him since college sometime.

"Look at you!" he said dropping his voice and enveloping me with a giant bear hug. We had never dated but we would skip school together and walk hand in hand through the cemetery reciting poetry and comedy routines in an old fashioned way. I'd had a huge crush on him in those days, but he chose my best friend and broke my teenage heart.

"You're absolutely gorgeous!" he said, grinning light beams at me. I have to admit that my clingy dress flattered my every voluptuous curve.

"I'm absolutely freezing," I answered. "When did this happen?" I asked brushing his priestly collar with my fingers.

He laughed "I couple of years ago. I got tired of advertising so I did this! How ARE you?!"

"I'm good," I answered rather flatly. The truthfully, I wasn't good. My career never took off, my clothes and bank account were way too tight, I was single, overweight, depressed and confused. How I found myself in the parish hall of St. Andrew's talking to Luke Johns on a blustery Christmas Eve, I'll never know.

"Oh, come on, Cindy," he said, "It's me. You don't expect me to believe an answer like that."

I smiled a half smile at him. Some people always know you, no matter how long it's been. They always still care.

"I'm Fine, Luke, really." I answered.

"I still don't believe you, but I won't pry," he said.

"How come you're not doing the service tonight?" I asked.

"Oh, Julian the Associate Rector is doing it tonight. He has kids. I'll do the quiet one in the morning." he answered, eyes dancing at mine before he spontaneously blurted," Welcome home, Cindy! What brings you here?"

"Thank you, Luke, you're so sweet, "I couldn't help but smile. " Honestly, I don't know. I got on a plane this morning and ended up in the back pew singing and freezing." I gave him and unintentional bewildered look and he took me in his arms again.

"The vestry refuses to heat put heat in upstairs. True to the period and all."

"The 'period' was 200 years ago!" I laughed.

"Yes, yes it was...It's really great you're here," he said again into my eyes, "Where are you staying?"

"I really haven't thought about it," I answered sheepishly.

"That's settled! You'll stay with me in the Rectory!" He grinned and threw up his hands like he'd scored a goal.

"The Rectory! How will you wife feel about an unexpected guest?" I asked

"What wife?!"

"You're not married? They hired a young unmarried priest here? Oh the scandal!" I teased, laughing, relieved.

"The diosis really fought for me. It was a scandal at first. They thought I was gay like that Bishop in New Hampshire, so I had to clear that up then, they were worried about the way I was as a kid..."

"You were not THAT bad! ...You never married?" I interrupted, "I though you and Jane..."

"No...We broke up in college...no...I never met anyone I wanted to..." he began. Then he took me in his arms and held me tightly clinging to my eyes with his. There was subtext I did not understand until he kissed me long and slow and deep. His tongue probed my mouth like it had found a lost treasure. I shuddered form the thrill. His hands roamed my back, pushing me into him so hard it felt that I would fall through. My body shook as I kissed him back. Electricity jolted through us. We heard the service end and he broke away from me saying, "Please, stay at the Rectory tonight." I nodded in agreement. He went off to shake hands and well wish.

The reception was lovely, as it had always been. The Ladies of the Guild brought up their freshly baked confections. Kids ran around ruining their good holiday clothes with cocoa and frosting. .

Luke Johns. Reverend Johns. Father Johns. Luke. Golly, it's strange when a friend gets a title! How do I refer to him now? He's Luke. Who am I kidding? Luke. Luke Johns. Luke made sure that I was doing alright during the reception. They were all warm and happy, familial but appropriately distant like good New England Episcopalians are supposed to be. There were some old youth group friends married with children and empty conversation. Luke would stop by and casually touch my elbow to make an introduction or remember me to someone. They all remembered me. How could they not? Mine had been the only African American family in the history of the parish. They asked about my parents and siblings with detached warmth. Luke would glance at me from over the top of an old lady's head and smile, bouncing a baby. They seemed to like him a lot. That was nice to see. Well loved Reverend Johns was a far cry form the boy Luke who was banned from bake sales for smoking cigarettes behind the mausoleum. He handed me a baby.

"This is Delia and Christopher's baby" Luke said nodding his head toward the parents. They had been very close friends of ours back in the day. The four of us would hang out in the church basement, writing songs and making weird jewelry. I didn't know they had gotten together. It was good to see. Ugly baby. I didn't want to hold it too long. They came over to save their child and say hello. It was a very awkward conversation. Kind of sad really. Married people don't always know how to relate to single people and vise versa. Must be cultural...

The crowd dissipated and Reverend Luke Johns skipped up to me with a wink "Ready to go?" he asked offering me his arm. I grinned back at him, linking my arm into his. There were still people in the cozy parish hall but they would clean and lock up. It was time for the Rector to retire with his surprise house guest.

"They'll see us leaving together. Won't that spark gossip?" I asked holding my self against him for balance and warmth. Why did I wear those stupid boots?! The wind whipped spiky sharp, hard against us. The house was next door but it felt like miles in the icy night.

"Yeah, it will. So what?" he answered.

"You're not concerned about scandal?" I asked

"Eh, it gives them something to do. Entertains them. I'm not concerned. They know who you are."

"Well, exactly," I muttered through chattering teeth. He held me closer as we mounted the steps to the Rectory, his home.

It was a big grey Victorian with a stained glass window over the front door. The porch steps were lined with frosted poinsettias and tiny tasteful Christmas lights, all done and donated by the Ladies of the Guild. He opened the door for me. We were greeted by a blast of turkey scented heat.

"MMM! Greeting card-a-licious!" I said, seeing the giant Christmas tree - also a Guild creation. "All this for just you?" I said in wonder.

"Its nice you can share it with Me." he answered taking my coat.

After I removed my silly boots and put on some guest slippers. He handed me a giant sweater and gave me the grand tour. The house was immense. Ten bedrooms plus servants quarters. It was really designed for a big family and guests. 7 bathrooms, amazing. And the smell! Holiday food and pine and spice. Heavenly.

He explained that the Ladies of the Guild did everything including his laundry and the cooking. After he had seen me in the parish hall, he'd asked them to set his table for one more. Wow. It was beautifully set. Martha Stewart could not have done it better. Red pillar candles and a garland down the center, white china plates, real silverware, heirloom linen napkins sculpturally folded. There was a lot of love and effort put into that table setting. And it was gorgeous. On the sideboard they had laid out large slices of roasted turkey, gravy in a warmer boat, mashed potatoes still steaming, an elegant spinach salad, home made cranberry sauce and rolls and butter and an apple pie. How nice!

"I usually have this meal alone," he said to me, "It's so nice that you can be here." he kept saying that. I decided not to be weireded out. My old friend must have been very lonely if he always had his Christmas feast alone.

"How long have you been here?" I asked him.

"About four years now," he answered with out melancholy.

""All by yourself?"

"Sure," he said and kissed me again. We had never kissed before this night. I had never known him to have these feelings for me. We had been platonic friends in high school. This new intimacy was exciting but I was cautious.

"You're royalty!" I giggled, half joking.

"You're angelic," he answered kissing me again. I laughed at his line, but I knew he meant it which made me feel awkward.

"Seriously, Cindy, "he stroked my hair and face, "You're gorgeous. It's really good to see you tonight." He held me to him again. A long emotional hug weighted with twenty years of subtext and angst. I wanted to pretend I wasn't feeling what I was feeling but I was really feeling him and his attraction and our bond and my loneliness. Tears leaked out of my eyes, adding to my embarrassment. He cried too. We held that overdue embrace for another eternity.

When we broke away, commenting on the strangeness of the feeling, he pulled out a chair for me and served my meal like a waiter before her helped his own plate. We spoke and ate like no time had gone by. Asked each other about career choices, family, old friends, why we found ourselves single and alone on Christmas Eve. The wine was lovely, as was the food. It was great to sit with him. It felt right somehow. Maybe this was why I was here. As I was thinking this, he said the same. There was a magic to my appearance in the parish hall that night, he said. He had been wondering about my welfare and how to reach me to say hello. I told him I'd give him my contact information before I Left. He thanked me. Over pie and coffee, the conversation slowed. We both avoided the next question, the next issue. Where I would sleep. What we would do after dinner. The tension was dense as cold lasagna and just as heavy. We finished the meal.

Against his protests, I rose and cleared the dishes form the table. No sense in letting them collects and congeal. No sense in The Guild Ladies coming in on Christmas to clean up from an awkward reunion. As I put the dishes into the hot soapy water, foreign thoughts danced in my head. What if this was my home? Could I live here? Could I do the whole church thing? What of these ever present stealthy Guild Ladies with their elf-like busy-ness, everywhere?....hmmm.

Luke came up behind me, slid my dress sleeves up my arm and, eased my hands with his into the hot soapy water. His body was, close, his lips at my ear. "I missed you so much, Cindy" he whispered into my ear. His low voice in a sensual tone, tricked from my ear to my abdomen, ending in my panties as a puddle. I leaned back against him. He was tall and broad and warm. Close. Felt safe. Felt nice. He held my hands under the water, entwining his fingers with mine. "We really can leave this for The Guild," he said, turning me around and kissing me again. This was too fast, too soon, too...gooood...Luke took my hand and lead me up the stairs.

In his room there was a giant antique mahogany four poster bed, poufy with a velvet duvet and countless coordinating pillows. It looked like an overstuffed design magazine spread. A fire burned in the hearth, casting jittery shadows across the room. But it was so warm in there, deliciously warm. He guided me to an upholstered bench and sat me down. "Cindy," he asked, "will you put your boots back on and then disrobe for me?" His voice was low and gentle, touching me in places his hands had never been. I nodded. He left the room. I noticed my boots standing neatly next to the hearth. I'd left them down stairs, I though. How'd...? The Guild? Hmmm...

As I took off my dress and put on my knee high boots, music, form some old Boston band - was that the Pixies? - creeped into the chamber from somewhere. It was the Pixies! Luke used to sneak me out the house to go see them in the city with fake id's back in the day. I giggled to my self, standing in the middle of the room in a black push up bra, thong and boots. I felt silly, the music was a silly choice and, and as I though of it, this was a pretty silly situation. I stood by the fire, unsure of what else to do. I mean I knew by now where things were headed, but I was not a girl who could pull off a sexy pose with any means of panache. So I stood there, giggling, with my hands behind my back and my ass toward the flames.

When Luke reentered, breath left my body. He looked like a god in the dark. He'd shed his priestly garb and wore nothing but what god gave him and my dear old friend was indeed, truly blessed. His broad shoulders rippled with muscles over his tight, tapered torso. He had thick, strong, manly thighs that framed his mighty manhood exquisitely. Oh, yes, his manhood was most certainly mighty. Partially erect, it stood away form his body a good 7 or 8 inches with measurable girth. The head was a bulbous knot of visible sensation - expertly circumcised - the best part was that is was just slightly flat on the underside, perfect for sucking and sliding. It grew as he approached me. He seemed taller now, standing straight to his full 6 feet 4 inches in height. God he looked good! If the Ladies of the Guild only knew what they had in the rectory! My Goodness! Now he stood close, but not very. He could almost touch me with his ever growing penis. He caught my eyes with his and smiled - grinned actually, he was beaming at me. "You're gorgeous!" he gasped, "Like I knew that you would look good, but you look absolutely amazing! Will, will you, will you turn around so that I can see the rest of you? Jeeze!"

I turned around for him, rather quickly and with my eyes, I asked him to do the same. Slowly he turned for me. Jeeze! Back at him! Tight bubble but on a white man is a rare and wonderful thing. And oh! His muscled back! I wanted to ask him to lift stuff just so I could watch the muscles move under his skin - oh wow! I don't think he was anywhere close to this hot in high school. I remember him as a cute boy - Not Adonis!

"Cindy, you certainly filled out!" he said reaching out to my size J breasts spilling out of a 34 G demi cup bra. "Gosh!" He uttered lifting my breasts out and over the bra "I've never seen such a thing!" He lifted them and squoze them, pinched and pulled, squashed them together, held them apart, then took my bra off entirely, letting my full, heavy breasts fall to their natural resting place atop my lowest rib, jutting out to the sides, nipples erect and ready. "Oh my gosh, Cindy, they are SO beautiful!" He sat back on the bench and stared at me. I tried not to be self conscious.

His erection kept growing and growing as his eyes swam allover my body. His penis was truly something to behold. By now it was glowing red and had to be 10 inches - what am I going to do with all of that?! Where will I put it all?!

"Cindy, will you please take off your panties now?" He requested in a gushing whisper. I did.

My panties dropped over my boots to the floor, revealing my bare, shaved pussy in the fire light. Luke fell to his knees before me. He said nothing as he slid his big strong hands along my thighs, breathing me in. He looked intoxicated. He raised his face to catch my eyes. Golly he was hot down there on the floor below me! We held the gaze for a long time before he dipped his chin and sent his tongue directly across my entire nether region. "MMM!" he said and licked some more. A pleasure groan escaped me. Oh! He felt so good!

The Good Reverend had talent indeed! He held my thick thighs in his strong hands, supporting my weakening knees against his arms as he penetrated me with his wild thrusting tongue. My head fell back and a deep moan escaped my being. I held on to the mantle, back arched and gasping. My other hand grabbed Luke's hair smashing his face deeper into me. His nose got my clit, mashing it around. With each new flood of my juices he'd utter a delighted "mmmm" and fuck me harder with his tongue. My thighs shook, I squealed and screamed. My pussy was liquid in his mouth and he just kept drinking.