I pull up to a stop light and wait for the light to change, singing along to the music coming softly through the speakers. I look over at the fancy sports car parked next to me and see an extremely handsome man looking back at me. He’s much older than I am—as old as Andrew, probably—but he’s clean shaven and he’s wearing a suit. He’s heading in the direction of downtown, where I’ll start my job at the law firm. I guess he’s working on a Sunday, so he must make bank.
He smiles at me and I can’t help but smile back. My cheeks go red again like they did in church, as I start to feel that familiar clenching of my pussy. I look away from him just as the light turns green.
Of course, I have to have this sort of temptation right after leaving the church service in which I was having such unholy thoughts. It always seems to happen that way. I can suddenly hear Andrew’s voice in my head, echoing the words of Pastor John.
“Sex has no place outside of the marriage bed. You don’t want to give yourself over to someone who may not truly value or appreciate what you have to offer. Only a husband and a wife can give that to each other. Anyone else is asking too much of you.”
I think of the older man stopped at the light beside me moments before and despite the words of Pastor John, I can’t help but think about what it would be like to be with that man. Not just go on a date or even kiss him, two things I’ve never actually done, but to physically be with him. What it would feel like to be held in his arms and what it would feel like to ultimately be penetrated by him, his cock slipping into my virgin pussy, taking me for my very first time.
I shake the thoughts from my head and continue driving. I drive past a billboard advertising a new movie with an extremely handsome and well known Hollywood actor. In my eyes, Sunday isn’t the day of rest, but the day of temptation. It’s always been the one day I can actually get out of Andrew and Colleen’s house and see other people. I can’t seem to help but fantasize about the men I meet, but the stranger in the car is particularly tempting. Good thing I don’t even know who he is, so I can’t actually act on my temptation even if I wanted to.
I pull into the driveway and silently pray that I can soon afford to live on my own. Having these urges and living under Andrew and Colleen’s roof isn’t exactly easy. I unlock the front door and put the keys on the counter. I know they’ll be at the church for at least another hour. I have a spare moment alone.
I walk into my bedroom and start changing out of my conservative church clothes. I pull off my blouse and let it fall to the floor. I, then, shimmy out of my skirt and walk over to the mirror.
I stare at my reflection and can’t help but admire what looks back at me. I know it’s vain to admire one’s own beauty, but I can’t help it. Even though I don’t really remember what my mother looked like before the drugs consumed her body and mind, I know that we have the same bright and beautiful eyes. Even on the drugs, they shone out like a beacon.
My body has always had natural curves, but when I went hungry or went around begging for food, it was skinny. Ever since I’ve been living here and receiving adequate nutrition, I’ve filled out, and I feel I have reason to admire my large breasts and hips, as they mean my body is having its needs met.
At least when it comes to food, I think, blushing at the thought although no one is around to see me.
I walk over to the bed and sit down on the edge of it. I slide off my flats and toss them toward the closet door. Lying back, I think about the man in the car next to me earlier.
I spread my legs and slowly bring my hand down on top of my panties. I move my fingers back and forth, feeling the lace fabric against my skin. I imagine the handsome stranger running his hands along my thighs, spreading my legs wide.
After several moments of movement, I feel a dampness spreading through my panties. A wetness, showing how much I longingly desire to be touched there by a hand other than my own. In my head, the man in the car has now removed my panties and has tossed them to the floor. And I do just that. I slide them off my legs and toss them into the air. They land on top of my desk chair.
I suck my fingers, lubricating them and slowly touch a finger to the sensitive lips of my already dripping wet pussy. The sensation pulses through me in an instant. A sensation I know will continue to build with each passing movement. I slide my finger along the folds of my vagina, slowly and deliberately, my fingers becoming more and more sticky with my own obvious wetness.
I hover just above my clit with one finger, knowing that if I go straight for it, the moment will not last nearly as long as I want it to. Instead, I slide a finger inside myself, letting my warm juices be their own lubricant. I slide my finger in and out of my hot pussy, letting my orgasm build.
Then I hesitantly add another finger, and the sensation is even more powerful. Fairly certain that I’m reaching orgasm, I slide my thumb along my clitoris, then each side of the sensitive button, forming circular motions that cause my body to go wild. My back arches and I bite my lip to stop myself from crying out. I move my fingers more rapidly and the walls of my vagina tighten around them as I reach climax. I slide my fingers out from my pussy and marvel at their glistening texture. My bodily juices covering the appendages.
I walk over to the bathroom and wash my hands thoroughly. Then I grab a clean pair of panties and put on my pajamas. I also toss the panties that landed on my chair into my hamper. The last thing I want is for Andrew or Colleen to be asking questions.
I silently send out a thank you to the handsome stranger who helped me get off. In my head, this is as productive as praying. And I hope it yields even better results: hopefully, somehow, I’ll see him again and be able to fantasize even more about what I wish he could do to me.
Chapter 3
Grace
At dinner that night with Andrew and Colleen, I continue to hope that the activity I had been partaking in while they were away isn’t written all over my face. I know they would certainly not approve of such a thing. When I was younger and first living with them, even the thought of masturbation scared me. I would have done anything to avoid being kicked out of their house. They had always been so good to me and wanted what was best for me.
But even then, my urges and curiosities were too strong. I would wait until late at night after they had already gone to bed to touch myself. But even after pleasuring myself to full tilt, I would be scared out of my mind that they could somehow sense what I was doing and punish me for it.
It always seemed as if Andrew’s eyes bore a hole through my clothes, revealing all and letting him in on my dirty little secret. I know that was just in my head, because he never said anything. But even years later, I still feel that guilt for finding pleasure in my own body, and that fear that they’ll somehow find out.
“Are you ready for your first day of work tomorrow?” Andrew asks me as I stir around my plate of peas. I look up at him, surprised. I hadn’t heard a word he had been saying.
I pause a little too long before responding.
“Are you alright?” Colleen asks, concern on her face. She cocks her head to the side in question. I can’t help but be reminded of an energetic puppy hoping to be taken outside for a walk.
“I’m fine,” I say to them, continuing to look at my peas. “I’m just a little nervous. I’ve never had a real job before.”
This isn’t a complete and total lie. I’m nervous, but it’s more about them finding out what I was up to while they were still at the church. Even the thought of lying to them about what’s going through my head makes me sick to my stomach.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Andrew says, finishing up his dinner, but obviously not his thoughts. He still looks like he wants to say something further. He gives Colleen a look and she nods her head, encouraging him.
“There was something that we wanted to talk to you about, Grace.”
I look up at his voice and wonder exactly what this could be about. I put down my fork and give them my full attention.
“What is it?
Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong,” Andrew says. He gives Colleen another look and this time, the shared exchange of glances between them is even more obvious.
“We wanted to talk to you about the fact that tomorrow you’ll be in an environment unlike the one you’ve been exposed to in the last few years.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, wondering exactly where this conversation is leading.
“I mean, you’ll be in an environment with men. Young men and older men. Men who are your superiors and men who are your equals. We just want you to be careful around these men. They could lead you into temptation. It’s best for you to wait for the right person.”
Andrew says all of this matter-of-factly, lacing his fingers together on the table.
“But how can I just sit and wait for the right person? Isn’t this a good thing that I’ll be around someone who might be that person?” I ask, not fully understanding where they’re coming from.
There had been times in the past where I would meet a boy and think that he was potentially the one. But Andrew and Colleen had never agreed. They had always found something wrong with any of the boys that I had feelings for, and hadn’t let me date him because they’d said it wasn’t God’s will. He was never the right guy for me. Their constant advice had been for me to wait. And it’s all I’ve been doing ever since I moved in, and a big part of why I want to move out.
“All we’re saying is that God will send you the right man. So, keep waiting for him. Temptation will only get you somewhere you don’t want to go.” Andrew gets up from the table, picks up his dishes and takes them into the kitchen. Colleen follows a few minutes later.
The discussion is over. In fact, most discussions with them feel like lectures. I already had to listen to a sermon at church and now it takes everything in me to sit patiently through this one.
I know they mean well, but I can’t help but question their intentions sometimes. However, in this case, they might be right. If even the guy in a car beside me can cause me temptation to such a degree, imagine what a real live man at my new job could bring out of me. It’s a scary thought, so I just nod and say, “Thank you for the advice. I appreciate it.”
Of course, I don’t voice my related thought. And I sure hope I can follow it.
Chapter 4
Grace
I wake up the next morning with a knot in the pit of my stomach. The nerves of starting my very first job start flying every which way as I get dressed. I stand in front of the mirror and inspect my business casual wear.
My black skirt and white blouse is conservative since Colleen bought it for me, but it still does a pretty good job of accentuating my curves—probably because they’re impossible to hide even in the most modest of clothes, and this outfit has a professional, trimmed cut that shows off a little more than the church clothes I usually wear out. Upon approval and several deep breathes, I leave the house.
I pull into the parking lot of an extremely large building in downtown Albuquerque. It’s covered floor to ceiling in windows, giving off a vibe of high importance. After sitting with the car idling for a moment, I gather my courage and walk into the building, navigating my way through a maze of hallways and elevators. I feel that my first task of the day was finding the darn place, and I’m impressed that I figured it out.
I walk up to one of the two front desks and meet the eyes of the female receptionist. A male receptionist sits behind the other desk and so I feel more comfortable approaching this one.
She smiles warmly at me. “Hiya, I’m Erin. You must be one of the new assistants. Can I help you?”
“Hi,” I say, looking around. Several conference rooms catch my eye with men and women dressed to the nines. I suddenly feel dangerously underdressed. I make a note to step it up tomorrow. “I’m Grace.”
“Oh, Grace!” she says, coming around the front of the desk and giving me a hug.
I freeze, mostly out of shock, but also because I’m a shy person and wasn’t expecting it. Then I immediately say, “Oh, hi,” and hug her back kind of awkwardly, because I don’t want to be rude.
“Erin, you’ve gone and scared one of the new girls,” says the guy behind the other desk, with a slight lisp that’s pretty adorable. “Now she’ll not want to work here with us.”
“Oh, stop,” she says, smiling at him. “But seriously, did I scare you?” she asks me.
“No,” I insist, shaking my head, but she starts laughing, and so do I.
I feel I have an instant connection here at my new job, and one that I wasn’t expecting. I relax, letting my shoulders fall down a bit.
“I did,” she says. “Claude’s right. I scared you. I’m sorry. I’m a little too friendly sometimes. I was just really excited to meet you.”
“Ask her why,” the other receptionist—Claude, apparently—says.
“Why?” I ask, dumbly.
“I get a little nosy sometimes,” she confesses, while Claude butts in to say, “You? Never.”
“Shut up,” she tells him, before turning back to me. “And I was looking at your resume that was up here on the front desk, and I noticed you and I had a lot of the same extracurricular activities. Bible Club in high school. Bible Quizzes and youth group at church. Volunteering at the mission.”
I smile, nervously. I really did do those things, although the “Bible club” was really just Colleen and me, after my regular schoolwork. She had named my homeschool School of the Messiah, and gave me a diploma with my name on it, which you’re allowed to do in the state of New Mexico, but still sounds a little deceptive to me. I’m hoping Erin doesn’t ask more about what school I went to—most people say things like, “Oh I haven’t heard of that, where is it?”, and then I get embarrassed having to answer awkward questions like “Well, why were you homeschooled?”—but Erin seems to be focused more on the similarities between us than the differences.
“It’s just so cool to meet someone like me,” she says. “Or, like the old me, any way.”
I look at her blankly and then Claude says, “Yeah, before you started shagging your boss,” and laughs.
I try not to look too shocked, wondering if he’s kidding. But one look at the grin on Erin’s face tells me it’s true.
“Okay, so I might have hooked up with my boss, but whatever, that turned out great. My parents were mad as hell though. They’re really religious. We were in church all the time.”
“Mine too,” I tell her. “Well, my foster parents anyway.”
“Oh, okay,” she says, smiling, but obviously looking a little awkward, as if she isn’t sure what to say about that. No one ever knows how to respond to that and I can’t blame them. In fact, I feel silly for bringing it up, but I didn’t want her to think I meant “regular” parents. I’m not a “regular” person and I like to break the news to people early on so they’re not shocked later.
“Yeah,” I say, trying to ease the tension by talking, a bad habit of mine which is why I usually try not to start talking in the first place, lest I ramble on incoherently to fill awkward silences in the conversation. “I volunteered at the program the mission has that helps foster children. I served food and tried to do some tutoring, although…well, I just did whatever I could to help out.”
I was going to say, “although I could have used some tutoring myself,” but I don’t want to reveal how much of an education—or lack thereof—I barely scraped by with. Also, I don’t want to sound sorry for myself. I really wish I had known about the mission earlier, as it would have saved me a lot of hardships, but once I found out about it and they pointed me in the direction of St. Benedict’s services and Pastor John and Andrew and Colleen, I was eternally grateful. I did everything I could to try to pay back the kindness and pass it forward to other foster children. So the last thing I am is sorry for myself, even though it’s always hard to explain, given the rest of my unfortunate circumstances that had lead me there.
“Well, welcome to the firm of Marks, Sanchez,
Reed and Mack…and, well, whatever it is now or is going to be,” Erin says, smiling. I must look confused—which I am—because she adds, “We’re going through some growth and transition. And I just can’t keep up!”
“Come on Erin, get with the program,” Claude teases. “And it’s nice to meet you, Grace,” he adds.
“Nice to meet you too,” I say, smiling at them. I’m sincerely glad my first impression of anyone here at my new job was positive.
“I have to return a couple of phone calls, or else I’d love to stay chatting about our scintillating shared experience growing up as church girls,” Erin says. I smile at her and nod, even though I hardly grew up as one. “But someone will be right with you to show you around. You can take a seat.”
She gestures behind me towards several cushioned chairs. The lobby is beautifully decorated and the furniture is lovely, but it still has the feel of a doctor’s office waiting room, with just as much anxiety flooding the air, including my own. I suppose all law firms are probably high stress environments where this kind of energy is palpable, but I’m hoping I can cut it in this new corporate world.
I sit down, and cross and uncross my legs several times, unsure of how to come off as someone who’s calm, which I’m generally not. This being the first job that I’ve had, I’m not sure how to act. Although, I don’t think the nerves can escape even a veteran worker.
I’m uncrossing my legs for the fourth or fifth time, when an extremely handsome man suddenly appears out of nowhere. I can’t even believe it, but I swear it’s the guy from the car beside me yesterday, on the way home from church. The guy I freaking masturbated to when I got home.
I start to think I must be imagining things. Maybe I’m just thinking this is the same guy, because he’s just as handsome. His dark hair and impressive stature take me completely off guard.
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