Preacher and The Prostitute

by Barrett, Brenda

  She spoke with a slight Eastern Caribbean accent and Maribel had warmed up to her instantly. She had poured out her story to Felicia, who had listened sympathetically and then replied that she was a runaway too. However, she had money because she worked for it.

  How did she work for it?

  She took nude pictures for tourists who liked the kinky stuff, but she was working now with an American guy who sold pictures to magazines. Of course the pay was good, she had replied to Maribel’s halting queries.

  Maribel’s joy at finding something to do and a decent place to sleep that night had resulted in her taking several suggestive pictures for the photographer and his partner. They had gotten her drunk that evening and she barely remembered the poses and sexual acts she had engaged in. She just remembered that the morning after they had kicked Felicia out of the beachside house, accusing her of stealing money. Not wanting to lose her only friend, Maribel had followed.

  Both of them had started working on the streets after that, but only for a year. Days were spent catching up on sleep in a one-room they both rented from a man with a beer belly; they had taken turns giving sex in exchange for rent. They nicknamed him Piglet because of his pink florid features and broad flat face. Felicia had declared, almost from the first, that absolutely nobody should know their real names and so they had become Peaches and Cream.

  Maribel blinked rapidly at her computer screen; her past was never going to let her go. What were the odds, that of all the pictures in the world, Mark’s friend should have that picture with her in it?

  She hadn’t even known that the photographers had used them. She just remembered an overwhelming smell of marijuana in the house by the beachside and the clicking sound of camera shutters as the men, one black and one white, had yelled out instructions. They had plied her with drinks to make her giggle and to loosen her up, they had said. The come-hither look in her eyes was merely as a result of a drugged-up high.

  Her life was now on a slippery bend careening out of control; where was God in all of this? Why couldn’t He just cause all the photos, videos and memories of her life to just be obliterated from the face of the earth?

  What about Brian? She sighed as she looked on the vase with roses. He didn’t deserve her kind of life entangling with his.

  “Oh Maribel.”

  She looked up wearily. Charisa was at the door. “Here is another delivery from BE; I checked.”

  Maribel took the gift box from her and read the note. Her heart felt heavy in her chest and she felt an overwhelming urge to cry. ‘If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge and if I have faith that can move mountains but have not love I am nothing.’

  Charisa smiled as she headed for the door. “I think this is so romantic.”

  Maribel sniffed, “Close the door on your way out, please.” She listened as the door clicked and put her head on the Hodges Construction file and had a good bawl.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “Hey Brian.” Maribel tried to inject some brightness in her voice. “Thanks for the flowers and the chocolate that you sent today. I was trying to get through to you but I couldn’t.”

  Brian chuckled down the phone line. “I was tied up in a very intense meeting at the church headquarters. So did you like them?”

  “I loved them. I loved the notes too.”

  “First Corinthians thirteen has thirteen verses,” Brian reminded her.

  “Don’t tell me you are going to send a gift for each verse?”

  “I am not telling you,” Brian murmured. “Say Maribel, are you tired?”

  “Not really,” Maribel said. “I had a tough day today but I am pretty keyed up.”

  “Would you like to walk with me up Widcombe Heights? I am itching to go outdoors and work up a sweat.”

  “Sure,” Maribel said brightly. That sounded like a good idea to her; at least she could forget the foolishness that took place at the office today instead of staying home and stewing about it.

  Should she or shouldn’t she have sex with Mark? The question was bouncing off her brain as she sat staring sightlessly at her television. Blackmail had a way of mushrooming out of control, she knew; the blackmailer was never satisfied until they sucked you dry and left you with nothing, and the irony was that despite the blackmail and hush-hush money or favors, somebody always found out and broadcast your secret to the world.

  She cringed to think of all the people at work seeing that picture or knowing that was the reason for her dismissal; she could almost see them lining up to condemn her, and where would she find another accounting job after discreet little hints were dropped in certain ears about her secret life as a nude model? Nobody would take her seriously and her protestations of the picture belonging to a past life would dig up a whole new line of questioning about her past.

  She dragged on her track bottoms and found a matching top that was not too clingy but still looked decent.

  Brian picked her up at the gate and she instantly felt light-hearted. All her woes seemed to melt when she saw his warm brown eyes and his chiseled, handsome features, which had become so dear to her in such a short period of time—if he only knew what she was now facing and the questions that were floating around in her head.

  Brian handed her a gift bag when she sat in the car. Maribel sighed, “You are spoiling me.”

  Brian laughed. “Open it.”

  She opened the bag and it was a bottle of water. On the water hung a card. She read aloud, “If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames but have not love I gain nothing.”

  “I thought about putting your name inside that text. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames but have not Maribel I gain nothing.”

  Tears came to Maribel’s eyes. “I don’t think I am worth it, Brian.”

  “I do,” Brian said sincerity in his voice. “Wait until you get the next gift.”

  “So this gift was just to make sure that I am well hydrated on our walk.”

  “Yes ma’am.” He glanced at her. “When you laugh like that you look so innocent and vulnerable I feel like protecting you from the cares of this life.”

  Maribel inhaled sharply. “Brian … er … I am not as innocent as I seem.”

  “It is rare for people to be as innocent as they seem,” Brian said dryly. “It's just that you appear that way.”

  “Well …” Maribel bit her lip, “I am far from innocent.”

  Brian shrugged. “That’s a concept we will have to explore on our walk.”

  He parked the car and they stretched on the roadside. “My helper told me about this place,” Brian said, a smug smile on his face. “I can see why she suggested it.”

  “It’s a tough hill,” Maribel said, glancing at him. “Are you sure you are up to it?”

  “I have Jamaican genes,” Brian snorted. “Is it not a fact that there is some superhuman athletic gene that was specially given to Jamaicans by God?”

  Maribel laughed. “I don’t know about that, unless hard work and wanting something bad enough is unique to Jamaicans.”

  “Well let’s see what you have,” Brian said, briskly walking before her. Maribel checked out his firm, well-shaped butt in his blue tracksuit and almost got caught licking her lips.

  “Come on, Miss Jamaica,” Brian said sternly, “let’s see you in action.”

  Maribel ran beside him and laughed.

  “Okay, Mademoiselle Maribel,” Brian said leeringly, “what is this insinuation that you are a debauched female on the loose?”

  Maribel looked at him solemnly. “I am just saying that I am not as innocent as I seem.”

  “Okay,” Brian looked thoughtful, “so you have had a boyfriend before, is that it? A subtle warning to me that you are not a virgin and I shouldn’t get my pastorly hopes up?”

  “Well … ” Maribel walked a bit faster ahead of him and thought quickly, A boyfriend—now that was an understatement if ever there was one. He
r past sexual partners probably ranked in the high three figures. Just tell him and get it over with, the little voice urged her. Stop it now; let him deal with it now.

  But he won't talk to you again, another voice reasoned with her. He will probably look at you as if you have leprosy after this. He’d probably spit in the road when he sees you coming and cross to the other side.

  Brian stopped in front of her, forcing her to halt and look into his eyes; they were a rich, chocolate-brown; a lighter brown ring circled his irises. It was a feature she would probably have missed if she weren't this close. She could actually feel the warmth from his body as she stood as still as possible. Other walkers walked around them as they stood still, staring into each other’s eyes.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Brian said to her finally. “Not to make you feel bad, but I have never been with anyone. I firmly believe that sex should be for marriage; in that regard I am very much a by-the-book pastor.”

  Maribel nodded, her heart racing out of control.

  “When you are ready, you can tell me about your past.” He pushed a lock of hair from her brow and looked at her lips hard. “Suddenly I am very in need of some steam release.” His voice was husky. “Let’s walk and talk about work.”

  Maribel exhaled when he stepped away and tried hard to get some much-needed air into her lungs. “Your work, not mine,” she said breathlessly. “I had the roughest day on record.”

  “I am sorry to hear that.” Brian smiled at her. “My day was interesting. I visited a sick church sister today; I had no idea that in modern times people still wore mop caps. You know, those frilly, fluffy caps that Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother used to wear.”

  “Oh, I know Little Red Riding Hood’s grandmother,” Maribel nodded sarcastically, “but only because I work for the wolf that ate her.”

  Brian laughed. “Well, this sister had on one of those hats. She’s diabetic, so her overworked daughter watches everything she eats. While we were speaking and her daughter went elsewhere, she took out a chocolate bar from under the mop cap and said to me conspiratorially, ‘Parson, I’ve got to have a little sweetness in my life.’

  “I nodded, feeling a little wary of being part of a conspiracy, but then she took out another one and then another one. By the time I had gotten up I was thinking that she had a candy shop in her head.”

  Maribel stopped and laughed at the side of the road. “I haven’t laughed like this in ages. Maybe you should switch jobs with me.”

  Her work-related problem was waiting for her in the lobby the next day with a smirk on his face. He held up a package in his hand. A familiar card was hanging from it. He sneered at her. “For Maribel,” he read from the note. “Love is patient, love is kind, it does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.”

  “How quaint Maribel,” he mocked. “Have an admirer, huh? Let’s see what’s in here.” He peered into the paper bag. “Bagels, chocolate-coated bagels.”

  “That’s mean,” Christa, who had snuck behind the receptionist desk while Mark was sneering and snorting, said to him. “You shouldn’t have looked into her delivery like that.”

  “I saw you look in there first,” Mark said to Christa impatiently.

  “That’s because I am a woman. I can snoop.”

  Maribel could feel a scream making its way from the bottom of her belly, heading to her lips, when Vivian stepped through the door and bumped into her.

  “Glorious morning, everyone.” She took in the scene in the lobby and stood beside Maribel, her smile fading.

  Mark scowled at them; they were all looking at him as if he had lost his senses. He dropped the package on the receptionist desk and growled, “Maribel, my office, now.”

  Maribel sniffed. “Yes sir,” she said in a clipped tone.

  “If I never,” Vivian was whispering to her, “he is one arrogant pig.”

  “I’ve got something to tell you,” Maribel said to Vivian as she collected her latest gift from Brian.

  “Tell on,” Vivian said gleefully as they stepped into Maribel’s office. Vivian peeped into the bag and took out a bagel as Maribel placed her briefcase and handbag on the desk. “It says here that love is kind," she held up the note, "so share with your starving colleague.”

  “Viv,” Maribel said seriously, sitting down hard in her chair, “Mark found a nude photo of me and is trying to blackmail me to sleep with him.”

  Vivian was about to bite into the bagel and looked at Maribel wide eyed. “Run that by me again.”

  “You heard me,” Maribel said seriously.

  “Where?” Vivian asked, putting down the bagel on a napkin gingerly.

  “Where what?” Maribel asked impatiently.

  “Where would Mark get a picture of you in the nude?”

  “Long story,” Maribel said, panicking. “He’s calling me in his office to rub in that he has the upper hand. I prayed about the situation last night and there is no way I am going to have sex with that creep. The Lord reminded me that he will take care of me through thick and thin.”

  “Whew,” Vivian exhaled, “that’s a relief to know. Never sleep with a married creep who is blackmailing you.”

  “I am just at a loss as to what to do,” Maribel said, looking pained. “I tossed and turned last night searching for ways that I can avoid this.”

  Vivian started rustling in her bag. “I had this urge to bring this to work today."

  Maribel stood up. “What's that?”

  “It’s a tape recorder,” Vivian said smugly. “This should do great.”

  “Okay,” Maribel nodded, “what do I do?”

  “Well,” Vivian whispered, leaning toward Maribel, “the problem with this scenario is that Mark the blackmailer has recently married—the daughter of this company’s president.”

  Maribel’s eyes lit up. “You lie.”

  Vivian nodded. “Unlike you, I listen to the grapevine. Recently married to the boss’s daughter and is trying to blackmail you. Listen, this might not be an original idea, but my advice to you is to record him. Play it back to him. If he is still stubborn, send it to his father-in-law or wife and see how fast the idiot backtracks.”

  “I could kiss you,” Maribel said, taking the slim tape recorder and slipping it into her jacket pocket.

  “Well … the grapevine has switched their assessment that you are a lesbian since you started receiving those presents, so kissing me may muddy the waters a bit.”

  “Viv …” Tears came to Maribel’s eyes. “Thank you, you didn’t hesitate to help, and that joke is not funny.”

  Vivian snorted. “I want you to stop panicking and to nip this bullying in the bud. No woman deserves this kind of work-related harassment.”

  Maribel headed to Mark’s office with a lighter and more determined step than she had ever taken. She walked into the office and looked at the mini golf course in disdain.

  He was seated behind his desk. “I asked you to come to my office ten minutes ago; what are you playing at?”

  “I had to settle in for the day, Mark.” She lowered her voice into a husky drawl, a skill that she had perfected from back in the days when she used to hang over the front door of cars in the night. She strolled over to his desk and bent over slightly taking care that the tape recorder wouldn’t fall out.

  “Wow, Maribel.” His cold eyes softened. “I knew this holier-than-thou-attitude would not last. You want me, don’t you?”

  “Yes Mark,” Maribel drawled, “I want you.” To lose your job and leave this company, she added silently to herself.

  “Lock the door Maribel,” Mark said, getting to his feet.

  Maribel drew back a bit from the desk as he advanced toward her. “I stay up at nights dreaming about you.” He stood in front of her. “Dreaming about us on my desk.”

  “You don’t say,” Maribel murmured, hoping that the recorder was picking up his breathy, rasping voice.

  “Is it too early for us to ditch work and go to a hotel for the day? I have
to be back here by three for a meeting with the bosses. Damn these infernal meetings.”

  Maribel murmured, commiserating. “What about your wife? What will she say about us?”

  “She won’t know,” Mark said to Maribel sharply. “What I am getting at home is nowhere near enough to satisfy me.”

  “I see.” Maribel stepped back. He was practically pressing into her; she could smell the coffee scent on his breath.

  “Where are you going?” Mark asked her sharply.

  Maribel turned back and flashed him a seductive smile. “To the door. Do you have any more copies of that picture?”

  “Oh no,” Mark said grinning. “I had to convince Pete it wasn’t you for him to part with it. I paid him a lot of money for it.”

  Maribel turned back from the door and said coldly, “Give it to me.”

  “Hell no.” Mark held up his hand. “Are you crazy?”

  Maribel took out the recorder from her jacket pocket and pressed rewind. I stay up nights dreaming about you wafted in the air in the office.

  “Give me the picture, I won’t send this to your wife and your father-in-law, and we forget that you ever had the nerve to try to bribe me with that photo.”

  “You bitch,” Mark bit out as he headed toward Maribel.

  “Take one step further and I will not only send this to your wife but charge you with assault as well.”

  Mark stopped in his tracks, looking stunned.

  “If you even look at me in any way inappropriate again, I will create such a stink about it that you will have trouble. Are you understanding me?”

  Mark nodded, his shoulders slumping. “The picture is in here.” He unlocked a drawer and pulled it out.

  “Now light it afire,” Maribel said, gritting her teeth.

  “How do I know that you will destroy that tape?” Mark bit out, his jaw clenched tightly.

  “I am no blackmailer,” Maribel growled. “I was reduced to this because of your assumptions that I would be scared enough to have sex with you and allow you to trample on my dignity. I won’t allow it.”