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Promises

By: KKHowling



A steady, soaking rain fell as they drove up to the house. Debbie felt a sudden knot in her stomach when she saw the truck in the driveway. Eileen, who had been kind enough to drive her home, pulled in behind Kyle’s pickup.

“Okay, kiddo. You’re home,” Eileen said as she shifted into reverse.

“Thanks. See ya tomorrow,” Debbie replied as she opened the car door. “I’ll give you a call if I need a ride, ‘kay?”

Then she was hurrying up the drive to the front door through the rain. As she unlocked the door, she saw Kyle jump out of his truck and run toward her. She opened the door and went in, not waiting for him.

“Hey, Deb,” he said as he stepped inside. “How’s it going?” He ran a wet hand through wet, chestnut hair. He gave her a friendly smile that was enhanced by the sparkle of his eyes, which were bright blue.

“Hi, Kyle. The car’s out in the garage,” she said without looking back at him.

“Great. I’m on it. Mind if I grab a beer?”

She was standing in front of the hall closet hanging her coat. She waved a hand over her shoulder, wordlessly indicating her consent. She heard the pop top on the can and then the door to the garage opened and closed. She took a deep breath and managed to relax a little. She went to the mirror and ran a brush through her shoulder length blonde hair, whisking droplets of water out with each stroke. Debbie wanted to change into sweats and relax, but with Kyle here, she felt better in the skirt and jacket she was wearing. She wouldn’t let him to see her with her guard down. 

This morning, when her car wouldn’t start, she had been lucky enough to call Eileen in time to get a ride to work. Paul, her husband, was out of town on business, his car in a parking lot at the airport, and wouldn’t be home until Friday. She had called his cell when she got to work and asked what she should do about the car. She had never had to have a car towed before and wasn’t sure who to call.

“I’ll call Kyle,” Paul had told her. “Maybe he can swing by after work and take a look at it.” She had wanted to say no, but at the same time needed her car and didn’t want to argue with Paul when she knew he was right. Kyle, besides being one of Paul’s oldest friends, had worked several years as an auto mechanic. And was a good one, by all accounts. If he could fix it, and he probably could, it would only cost them for the parts.

She knew, even though she tried to suppress them, Paul was aware of her feelings toward Kyle. And that was before Debbie’s sister, Donna, had dated him. Kyle was a blood hound when it came to women. At Paul and Debbie’s frequent barbecues Kyle was always escorted by a different and sexy, if somewhat vapid, woman. Being a womanizer was bad enough for Debbie and her reception of him had always been a little cool. 

But then a year and a half ago, Debbie’s younger sister, Donna, had dated him for about four months—which seemed to be about as long as Kyle dated anyone. For Debbie it was nothing less than a betrayal. She had told Donna everything she knew about Kyle. All of it bad, of course: what kind of man he was, how he would treat her and how he would use and dump her. But Donna had only smiled and said, “He makes me happy.” Which only drove Debbie even further though the roof. Insult to injury came after they had stopped seeing each other. Debbie was giving Donna a healthy dose of ‘I told you so’ when Donna hit her with a comeback that completely shut her up.

“Yeah, maybe you were right about him,” conceded Donna. “But in my book, he’s still the fuck of the century!”
 Debbie poured herself a glass of wine, thinking it would help her relax. Kyle made her feel edgy when Paul was around. To be alone in the house with him was enough to have her drinking on a weeknight. She resented him all the more for making her feel uncomfortable like this in her own house. She was sipping her chardonnay when he burst back into the kitchen, holding some car part she could not identify.

“Think I found the cause of your troubles,” he said, grinning. “Got to run out and get some parts. Back in a flash.” With that he was gone. But Debbie did not go upstairs to change. He’ll be back, she thought, and drank off her remaining half a glass of wine. The tension had not dissipated. She poured another glass of wine.

It was not only that Kyle was a womanizer, she thought. He was an indiscreet one, too. He liked to talk to his buddies about his conquests. Not long after he and Donna split, stories circulated around the bowling league, of which Paul, Debbie and Kyle were all members, about how he had fucked his last girlfriend—Donna—in the ass. And, according to the rumor mill, she had loved it. He had always been a bit too smug, a bit too arrogant for Debbie’s taste to begin with. But then this jerk had not only dated her sister, but had somehow convinced her to let him put it in her ass! And then, after that, Donna had called him the fuck of the century! He had put his cock in her little sister’s asshole, and it seemed she would be glad to let him do it again any time he so desired! Debbie’s skin crawled at the thought.

Donna, obviously, had never confided in Debbie about her relationship Kyle. But she had tried to make Debbie understand the attraction: Kyle was a rather muscular six-foot-one, tan, with captivating blue eyes and, she said, he knew how to make a woman feel like a woman. She had also dropped some less-than-subtle hints about specific parts of his anatomy.

He had never been forward or flirty in any way with Debbie, of course. As the wife of one of his oldest and dearest friends, she was in a different category. Safe from his sexual innuendos, not-so-subtle body language and… well, any of that sort of thing. But watching other women, bimbos though they might be, fall all over themselves to be with him, was like fingernails on a blackboard to Debbie. The fact that he left her alone actually made things worse, because it denied her the opportunity to reject him. She would have loved the chance to watch that smug little smile of his shatter and slide off his face as she cut him down to size.

She was pouring a third glass of wine—more than she should be drinking on a weeknight, she knew—when he returned.

“Got the stuff I needed,” he said. “Should have you back in the saddle in no time. Can I grab another beer?” He was opening the fridge even before she nodded, she noticed. More arrogance.

She watched him as he walked out to the garage, noticing, not for the first time, how well his jeans fit. She could understand a woman would get aroused by that. But not if she knew him, knew what he was like, of course.

He had always treated Debbie politely and with great deference. Conversations he had with her were always conspicuously absent of flirtations and sexual content. In fact, she was more likely to find herself in a conversation about local politics, world events or some other sexually neutral topic with him than with Paul or one of her girlfriends. It was probably a defense mechanism on his part, she cynically told herself, to keep his mind off of sex while talking to the wife of a friend. Still, face to face, he had always been quite friendly and respectful, never flirty or condescending.

But that smug little smirk of his still went right through her. He wasn’t God’s gift to women, as he so obviously thought. Some day some woman will put him in his place, she thought. And what she wouldn’t give to be there! She finished her glass of wine.

“I’d like to fuck him just so I can tell him he’s a lousy lay,” she said into her empty glass. Her cheeks flushed immediately at what she had said. She stood up quickly and poured herself more wine. In the garage she heard the car trying to turn over. The engine caught and sputtered to life. It revved a couple of times and then fell silent. She could still feel the heat in her cheeks when Kyle came back into the house.

“Got it taken care of,” he told her.

“Great!” she said, a bit too quickly and perhaps a bit to enthusiastically. It made her embarrassed all over again. “Let me get you another beer,” she offered, quickly ducking her head into the fridge. He’ll probably be staring at your ass, she told herself as she grabbed a can off the bottom shelf. From the waist up she was hidden by the door, but surely he was feasting his eyes on her ass and legs. Her skirt stopped above her knee and when she bent over she knew she knew she’d be showing off a little bit of thigh. At thirty-one, her legs were lean and tight and her ass still turned men’s heads. He would be checking her out. She stood up quickly and looked right at him. He was facing away from her, checking his pager.

Suddenly, and for no reason she would ever be able to explain, she shook the beer can while his back was to her. She handed it to him as he turned around, flashing him an obligatory smile, the kind he was quite used to getting from her. Foam spurted from the can as he cracked the top, spraying him with beer. He quickly held the can out at arms length, but not before it had gotten all over his face and shirt. 

Debbie laughed as he stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding the overflowing beer our before him. She laughed maybe a bit too quickly, or maybe it was a bit too loud, but she knew that she was over the line. Somehow, this did not deter her though.

“Good one! First day with the new mouth?” she laughed.

He just stood there, still holding the beer away from himself and staring at her. The expression on his face was not one of anger or even surprise. He just looked at her, as if unsure what to make of the situation. In point of fact, her brain whispered to her, he had been completely ambushed on this one.

She watched the beer trickle down his arm and drip onto the floor. As her eyes followed the trail, they suddenly locked onto something she had noticed before. More than once. Although he clearly wasn’t aroused, there was a bulge that extended down the inseam of his right pant leg.

Yes, she had noticed it before. Especially when he was dancing at Paul’s cook outs with one of his bimbo dates and started getting turned on. Then, to her disgust, he would reach a hand into his jeans to manipulate himself into a better position to accommodate his growing erection. She had wondered, especially after Donna’s comments, just how big he was erect, if he was that big when limp.

He was still staring at her with the same uncomprehending expression, clearly unsure of what was going through her head. Then he put the can down on the counter, wiped himself off with a paper towel and turned to leave.

“Maybe I better pass on the beer,” he said, as if nothing had happened. “Talk to you later. Tell Paul everything’s cool and we’ll settle up when he gets back.”

As he walked from the kitchen toward the front door, Debbie thought, The bastard doesn’t pay a fraction of the attention to me that he does to his tramps! A shiver went through her abdomen as it hit her: she wanted him to want her. Or did she simply want him?

Of course she didn’t like him—he never gave the slightest sign of wanting her. She wasn’t some cheap tart who would worship his cock like it was a god, so why would he? Yeah, with all those sluts willing to drop to their knees at the altar of Kyle, why would he waste time talking to her? At five foot four, blonde, and an hourglass figure with C cup breasts, she was used to turning heads. Those tramps he brought to the picnics weren’t better looking, she knew—only more willing. 

Maybe she did want him—a little, anyway. But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t want to put him in his place; tell him he wasn’t the best lover or biggest cock she had ever had. If she could get his attention enough to make him want her, then she could laugh in his face. That would be sweet. Or maybe, she considered, it was time that a woman used and discarded him without a second thought. She could prove she was every bit as desirable as any tart he had ever fucked and at the same time deliver a devastating blow to his all too smug ego. That he might want someone more than they wanted him…. A real eye opener for him, she thought. 

But Debbie had never cheated on Paul in the eight years they were married and certainly wasn’t about to start with the likes of Kyle. It would have to be enough to peek his interest and then slam the door in his face. And in the process she just might make him feel as uncomfortable as he made her.

“Kyle!” she called quickly, trying to think of an excuse for him to come back. “Let me get you another beer. I, uh… feel terrible. I, uh.. dropped that one and gave it to you anyway. I’m really sorry.”

He walked back into the kitchen, shaking his head in indication that he was declining her offer. Even as he opened his mouth to speak though, Debbie was improvising a plan B.

“Show me what you did to the car. I won’t understand it, “ she giggled slightly. “But it’ll impress Paul if I tell him when he calls.” She could think of no previous occasion where she had giggled in front of Kyle, and it embarrassed and infuriated her to do so now. But outwardly, she gave no sign. It was the wine, she told herself. They went into the garage together and Kyle lifted the hood of her car. If he realized that she had giggled, he did not show it.

“Okay, see this starter motor,” he pointed. She leaned over the car and looked where he pointed. At the same time she wrapped her left hand around his thigh as if to steady herself. She made sure, however, to reach around far enough to touch his cock.

“I don’t see where you mean,” she said innocently, as she moved her hand up and down the bulge in his pant leg. He stepped back quickly; surely must have realized that her hand had not caressed his cock by accident. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Her cheeks started to flush again, and she quickly bent over the car again. It allowed her to hide her embarrassment and at the same time give him an eyeful of her ass, which she wiggled ever so slightly for him. She knew he wouldn’t be looking at his pager this time. She spread her legs just a bit and stood on her tip toes, leaning further under the hood. Debbie had never been so sexually forward as this, and it made her feel slutty. She found she kind of liked the thrill it gave her though. She half expected he would come up behind her and lift her skirt. But after a long moment, she turned around and saw he hadn’t moved. Perhaps the bulge in his pants was a little larger now, but his expression hadn’t changed. She wanted to see him reach into his pants and rearrange himself, as she had seen him do so many times with his little tarts. Heaven help her, but for some reason she wanted to know she was making his cock hard.

“I think I’ll have a glass of wine,” she said, darting back toward the kitchen. “Sure you won’t change your mind about that beer?”

“Uh, okay. Guess I will,” he replied and followed her back inside.

Good, she thought. If he had no interest in her, he would have turned down the beer and would be on his way out the front door right now. He at least wanted to find out where this was going, friend’s wife or not.

Just keep leading him on until he whips it out, she told herself. Then, after you’ve had a chance to see it with your own eyes, you can laugh in his face and tell him if his cock was the last one on earth, you’d go lesbian.

“Pour me some chardonnay,” she instructed. “I’ll be right back.” She stepped into the downstairs bathroom and took off her pantyhose and stashed them in the cabinet under the sink. She hesitated for a moment and then, not sure why she was doing it, she removed her panties too. She slipped her shoes back on, admiring in the mirror the way her ass looked in her two inch heels. Two inch heels and no panty lines, she thought with a very naughty smile. She brushed her blonde hair and undid another button on her blouse before returning to the kitchen. Surely, he would notice the blouse—there was a bit of cleavage showing now. And, knowing Kyle, he probably wouldn’t miss the fact that her pantyhose were gone. Just get him to want you enough that your rejection actually hurts him, she thought.

Debbie back came into the kitchen, sat at the table and took a sip of her wine. She began to realize she was quite buzzed. She was doing and thinking things she never would have done sober. Or even imagined.

He was standing at the counter. She sat facing him and made a show of crossing her legs. She wasn’t sure how much he could actually see, but it must have been obvious to him what her intent was.

“Mind if I use the bathroom?” he asked. The bathroom door closed behind him and for a second she was worried he would find her panties. So what? she thought. Even if he did, he wouldn’t know if they were the ones she had been wearing. And the uncertainty might drive up his temperature a bit. At the same time it made her stomach flutter—the stakes were getting higher. She wasn’t sure what was nerves and what was the wine at this point, but she felt a giddy excitement she had not known in a long time. She took another big sip from her glass.

When he came out, the bulge along his inseam had now moved up behind his fly. He was getting aroused, she knew, and had gone to the bathroom to fix himself. She was disappointed that he hadn’t done it in front of her. He denied her that little victory, but at least she knew he was getting a hard on. As he walked past her, a gentle breeze went up her skirt and tickled her clit. That, and watching his bulge go by at eye level suddenly made her wet. She knew that after he left, she would have to pull out her vibrator. And, so help her, she would be thinking of him and his big bulge when she did. The thought made her resent him even more.

As he sipped his beer and looked at her, she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. He was looking directly into her deep green eyes though, ignoring the show. A grin slowly broke out on his face, and she couldn’t maintain eye contact. She looked away.

“What?” she asked, suddenly feeling very defensive.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the black lace panties she had been wearing just moments before. He tossed them on the floor in front of her.

“Bastard!” she gasped, grabbing them up quickly. She was blushing furiously now. “Get out of here!” She had never been so flustered. The arrogant prick had not only found her panties, but had the audacity to bring them out and throw them in front of her. Who the fuck was he to even touch her panties!

He put down his beer and shrugged.

“Okay,” he said. “But…” He nodded toward the floor where he had thrown her panties and shrugged again. He walked past her and down the hallway toward the front door. Watching him walk away filled her with momentary panic. She couldn’t let him leave now; had to do something to keep him here.

“Kyle,” she called softly, just as he reached for the knob. She was still sitting, but had turned to face down the hallway. As he turned back to her, she started unbuttoning her blouse. She had no idea why. Her hands seemed to be moving of their own accord. When all the buttons were undone, she pulled her blouse open so he could see her bra and the firm, c-cup breasts inside. He stood at the end of the hall, looking at her, not moving. She slipped her jacket and blouse off of her shoulders and sat facing him in just her bra and skirt. He started toward her, taking off his jacket as he strode down the hall. He stopped directly in front of her and looked down squarely into her face. There was something so arrogant about the slight smile as he gazed at her. It was like he knew something she didn’t want him to know. She looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

“Take it out,” she whispered without looking at him. She heard his zipper and turned back just in time to see him pull out the most gorgeous cock she had ever seen. He was at least eight, maybe nine inches long and with hefty girth. He was rock hard, she noticed with some satisfaction. Her eyes widened as she though, Donna had that in her ass? She took it in her hand, noticing that her fingers did not come close to going all the way around it. 


Promises



I put away the last of the dishes just as a loud knocking came from the front door. It was early in the morning, Dave had left just a bit ago for work and I wondered if he had forgot his phone or wallet. I opened the door to find Dave's brother, Ron. He lived just down the road and was over frequently to watch the game or just shoot the shit with Dave. He didn't have a girlfriend and really had nothing else to do. But he had never come over when Dave wasn't around.

"Hey Ron, what's up?" I asked.

He smiled, "Not much, Dave said I could borrow some of his tools."

I opened the door and let him in. He brushed past me, and I smelled the aftershave he had used this morning. He always smelled so good. He was built like his brother, tall and muscular. If they weren't watching sports, they were playing it, and it showed.

I followed Ron to the garage where Dave had his tools hanging from various hooks on the wall. He grabbed a screwdriver.

"Really Ron? How do you not have a simple screwdriver?" I asked.

He chuckled, "Mine broke."

Something in his tone made me think he was full of shit, but I followed him back into the house.

"Do you have anything to drink?" Ron asked me.

His expression was odd and I was starting to get the feeling that he had another reason for coming over today. I went to the fridge, wondering if he had girl problems or something that he might not feel comfortable talking to Dave about. I pulled out a coke and turned around, almost crashing into Ron.

He startled a scream out of me, "What's your deal? Your acting odd today."

He took the coke and placed it on the counter behind him. He still hadn't moved out of my personal space and I was pinned between him and the fridge. He leaned in and took a deep breath near my neck.

"You smell so good Holly," he moaned.

I pushed my hands against his chest, concerned that I had thought the same thing about him earlier. He didn't budge.

"Get back Ron, this isn't funny."

He wrapped his arm around my back and pulled me flush against his body, rubbing his cock against me.

"No, it's not funny at all. I'm hard for you all the time," he said, grabbing my hand and pressing it up against his cock.

He rubbed my hand against the roughness of his jeans and I was shocked to feel how large he was. I gasped and tried to pull my hand back, but he held it firm, rubbing it up and down against his warm cock. He towered over me and easily picked me up, carrying me to my bedroom and tossing me into the bed, following me too quickly for me to roll away from him. His hard body pressed against mine.

"This is the only way to get past this," he said, his mouth kissing my throat.

"What are you talking about? Get off! I'm married to your brother!"

He moved his upper body off my chest, but only to start tugging at my shirt, quickly dragging it over my head. He gasped as my breasts came into view, barely covered by the lacy bra. I took advantage of his roving eyes and thrashed quickly, twisting my body out from under him. My escape was short lived as he grabbed one of my legs and pulled me back up to the bed. He wrapped his leg over my lower body and quickly caught my flailing hands and dragged them above my hand, enclosing both of my wrists in his large hand. He used his free had to start feeling my breasts, rubbing over the nipples now erect under my bra.

"See? You want this too. I know it's wrong, but I will have you," he said.

He looked up from my nipples, still caressing them, but focusing on my eyes. 

"I've waited a long time Holly. Waiting for my brother to get tired of you, like he did all his other girls. He didn't though. I kept thinking it wouldn't last, but it did. I won't wait any longer to have you."

He reached behind me, quickly unclasping and removing my bra and then made short work of my shorts and underwear. All too soon I was naked, held under him while he was completely clothed.

"I'm afraid I can't be gentle. I'm going to fuck your mouth, then this tight little cunt," he said, rubbing his finger gently against my folds. I was already wet and he spread my juices around. He smirked when I started writhing my hips against his hand. I didn't want this, but I couldn't control how my body reacted to his domination.

"Holly, look at me." I looked up at him and saw his eyes lit with lust. He rubbed his fingers down farther until he was circling my ass. "I'm going to fuck you here too."

My eyes widened, "No! Please Ron don't do this."

He pushed his finger into my ass to the first knuckle, it burned but it also felt strangely good. "I will fuck your tight little ass. I know my brother hasn't done that to you and I will be your first. I'll take your ass Holly. I'll take it because it's mine!"

I couldn't stop the moan that slipped past my mouth. His domination of my body was pushing all my buttons. My mind didn't want this, but it was quickly losing the battle.

Ron climbed off the bed and stood up, staring down at my nude body.

"Come here," he said. I looked toward the door, wondering if I could make it before he caught me. "Don't even think about it. You're not getting out of this room until you have satisfied me."

I stood up and walked in front of him, my hands trying to cover my breasts and cunt.

"On your knees. Good girl. Unzip me and take out my cock."

I looked up at him, his face a mask of lust as I pulled his thick cock out of his pants. It was even bigger than I had imagined. Bigger than his brother's who was quite large himself. I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, the fingers not even close to meeting around his engorged member.

"That a good girl. Stroke my cock. Make it hard so I can fuck that tight ass of yours."

His words made my cunt flow. I couldn't even resist, but wrapped my lips around the fat head of his cock. I licked up the pre-cum, loving it's taste and then swallowing the rest of his rod. I could only swallow about a third of his cock before I gagged. He moaned and appreciated my effort.

"Relax your throat, babe. There you go. Swallow my cock when it gets to your throat. Be a good girl and swallow my whole cock. Oh yeah, that's it. Oh my brother taught you how to be a good cock sucking whore. He told me how it took months to get you to give him a blow job. Oh yes!" he moaned as I took in half of his member down my throat before gagging.

"You'll have to learn how to treat a cock of my size, Holly. There you go, keep swallowing," he said, his hands grabbing my head and pulling me roughly down his cock. Soon my mouth met his balls. He was moaning wildly over me, his pelvis jerking against my face.

"Oh yes! That's it my whore! I'm going to come down your throat and you swallow every drop!"

He came soon after, his jizz flowing down my throat. He pulled his cock out slowly.

"Show me what's in my whore's mouth," he said.

I opened my mouth and showed him the cum I hadn't swallowed. He smiled and pet my head.

"There's a good whore. Swallow it down now."

I swallowed his cum and looked up at him, hoping he was done with me. I was feeling guilty because I didn't hate it.

"Lay on the bed and spread your legs. Show me that wet cunt."

I laid down on the bed, "Please stop calling me a whore. You're the one making me do this!"

Ron climbed on the bed, spreading my legs and gazing into my now open cunt, "I'll stop calling you a whore when it stops making you wet."

He rubbed his fingers around my folds and then shoved a finger up my cunt. I was so wet that it easily slid in. He laughed.

"I know what you need Holly. I've always known."

He lowered his head and licked my cunt lips. I couldn't stop the moan or the way my hips moved to get closer to his lapping tongue. He licked my cunt while pumping two fingers inside of me. I grabbed his hair and pulled him closer to my wet cunt. He laughed and continued to work my body, giving me what I didn't even know I had been craving. He pulled away, his face wet with my juices. He lowered his wet finger to my ass and pushed it in. My ass tightened and tried to push out the invading digit.

"Relax your ass. I'm going to stretch this tight little hole until you can take my cock. You want that don't you? You want me to take your ass."

I shook my head and he laughed. I guess my moaning belayed any real opposition I had. I was afraid it would hurt, but I also wanted it now. He was making me want it with his words.

"It's time to cum now my whore. You're going to come on my fingers while they take your ass."

He bent back down and licked my cunt while his finger pushed in and out of my tight hole. It was hurting less and I was moaning and thrashing on the bed.

"More!" I yelled.

Ron chuckled and added another finger to my ass. 

"Is this what my whore wants? It's what you need isn't it? You need to be a good girl for me and take my fingers in your tight ass. Relax that ass and take it!"

He now had three fingers in my ass and the pain was incredible, yet the pain was turning me on and making me cum. I screamed, grabbing at the bedspread while he pounded into my ass.

Ron slid his fingers out of my ass as I finished coming. I was still twitching with the aftershocks of the orgasm. Ron stood up and removed the rest of his clothing. His body was hard and sculpted in all the right places. His massive cock jutted out from between his legs and I wondered if I would be able to take that in my ass. 

Ron climbed up on the bed and spread my legs, "I'm going to fuck your cunt now and you're going to be a good girl and take it aren't you?"

"Wait! You need to wear a condom! I can't get pregnant!"

He smiled, "There will be nothing between us. Now spread your legs and ask me nicely to fuck you."

I looked away, closing my eyes. Now that I was coming off an orgasm, I could think more clearly. I didn't want this to happen. I had always been faithful to Dave. We were trying to have a baby, if Ron fucked me, I wouldn't know who's baby I had inside of me.

A hand gently wiped at the tears now flowing down my face, "Holly, I'm going to take you. There is nothing you can do to stop this."

He turned my face toward him and continued, "I'm going to fuck you and I'm not going to pull out. I'm going to make you mine. Now ask me to fuck you."

I shook my head and pushed at him.

He lowered his head and sucked on my nipple, licking it until it formed a stiff peak. He pinched the other nipple with his finger twisting it until I started moaning. His lower body was pressing into my cunt, mimicking fucking. My body was already reacting to his ministrations and I knew what the outcome was going to be.

"Please fuck me," I whispered.

He pulled from my nipple with a pop, "I didn't hear you my whore. Say again?"

I grabbed his ass and pulled it toward my wet cunt, "Fuck me!"

He moaned and grabbed his cock, guiding it toward my glistening sex. He pushed forward through my folds and was balls deep in one thrust.

"Oh yes!" I moaned. I was filled more than I had ever been. His cock pounded into me, I had never been fucked so hard and I loved it.

"That's a good girl! Grip my cock with that tight cunt! Yes. There you go, just like that. Oh yes," he said.

Sooner that I would have thought, I was coming, screaming his name.

"Good girl. Good whore, cuming all over my cock like that. Now it's time to fill you with my seed. Your child will be mine, not Dave's!"

I screamed as I came again, Ron's words filling me with lust. He pumped his hot seed deep into my unprotected fertile cunt and kept his cock in after he had finished.

"I'm keeping this in, don't want anything to leak out. Oh, Holly this was so good."

He looked over at the clock next to the bed.

"I have to go," he said, finally sliding his spent cock out of my cunt. He quickly dressed as I laid on the bed, to tired to move.

He looked back at me after dressing himself, "I'll be back for that ass Holly. I keep my promises."



Promises



Now’s the time! some forgotten part of her brain screamed. Tell him to pull his pants up and get the hell out of your house! Cut him down to size! But she sat transfixed by his cock, slowly stroking it, watching the skin wrinkle and stretch as she moved her hand up and down it. Suddenly, she let go and turned away.

“I, I….” she stammered. But she had no idea what she wanted to say. Her feelings were too jumbled to sort out. She had to be faithful to Paul, of course. She wanted to knock that smug look off of Kyle’s face. She wanted to tell him she wasn’t one of his brainless bimbos. She wanted… Her pussy was wet and aching. She wanted that cock.

Debbie felt his finger tip sliding along the inside of her thigh. Gently caressing, moving slowly under her skirt. She hadn’t realized how turned on she had been getting. She knew that if he touched her clit right now, she would cum. She couldn’t let that bastard make her cum! Not like that—at the mere touch of his finger!

She turned back toward him, grabbed his member and leaned forward. As her face got close to the head of his cock, she paused. Was she really going to do this? For the first time in ten years she was holding another man’s organ in her hand. She closed her eyes and moved forward just enough to touch him to her lips. She gave it a kiss, just a peck, really, and pulled back again. She opened her eyes again and saw that throbbing head just inches from her mouth. Her whole body was suddenly buzzing with excitement. She knew there was no way she could stop herself now from sucking that cock. 

She hated herself, because she knew she would do it. She hated Kyle, for having put his incredible cock in her hand; for knowing she would suck it. 

Debbie’s lips parted and she took the head into her mouth, licking it gently. Her pussy was on fire as she moved her lips down his shaft. His girth stretched her lips wide in a way that Paul’s modest member never would. At first she could only get the first few inches into her mouth without gagging. She bobbed slowly and steadily on it as she reached her free hand under her skirt. She had been right: it took only a touch to make her cum. She had to take him out of her mouth as a wave of pleasure exploded across her body. A squeal escaped her as she threw her head back and continued to rub her clit. Her whole body trembled with the orgasm. Then she was back sucking Kyle’s cock. Not slow and steady, like before, but hard and fast with reckless abandon. The way she sucked Paul when she wanted to make him cum. She was bobbing furiously, stroking him with one hand and massaging his balls with the other.

But Kyle didn’t cum. After a few minutes, Debbie slowed, unable to keep up that pace. She felt defeated. She hadn’t gotten him off. She pulled away, gasping. She could see his rod glistening with her saliva, and she realized that, not only was she sucking another man’s cock in her own kitchen, but she was actually disappointed that he hadn’t cum in her mouth! She didn’t like the taste of cum and hardly ever sucked Paul off like that anymore. But she knew she had wanted Kyle’s load in her mouth.

She felt Kyle pull her bra from her shoulders. He must have unhooked it while she was busy blowing him, because she never felt it. He started caressing one of her breasts, causing the fire between her thighs to heat up again. Oh, God, she thought. He might make me cum again! She sometimes had more than one orgasm with Paul, but not recently. A second orgasm was a rare treat these days, and she found that she wanted it. Needed it. He leaned down, still rubbing her tit, and whispered in her ear.

“Put it back in your mouth,” he instructed. She obediently complied, feeling his pulsing head and shaft fill her mouth again. “Now suck it slow and steady. Go as far down on it as you can. Yeah, that’s it.” Debbie almost gagged, but found she could accommodate more than half of his length. She swallowed his cock repeatedly, getting excited by the way he pressed against the back of her throat; by the way his breathing got heavier and raspier.

“Ah, God,” he gasped. “That’s it. Suck my cock.” He ran a hand through her blonde hair. “Oh yeah, you’re a good cock sucker.” Paul never talked like that in bed. Had certainly never called her a cock sucker. Being talked to like a cheap blow job slut should have insulted her, but instead turned her on even more. She closed her eyes and gave him the deepest, most sensual head she knew how. She was making love to his organ with her mouth, lips and tongue in a way she had never even done before with her husband, and she knew it. Somewhere inside her were feelings of guilt, perhaps, but right now all Debbie cared about was having Kyle tell her again she was a good cock sucker.

He pulled away from her and took a step back. She looked up at him, surprised, afraid she had done something wrong.

“You want to suck it some more?” he asked in a husky voice. She couldn’t believe it, but she was nodding her head—and so quickly too, as if she were a greedy child being offered candy. He pointed to the floor between them, and she understood immediately.

She would have scoffed, quite angrily, if someone had told her that one day she would willingly get down on her knees for Kyle and take his cock in her mouth. Sliding off that chair and placing her knees on the tile floor in front of him was the most humiliating thing Debbie had ever done. From her knees she looked up at him and knew she would do whatever he wanted at that moment. Never before had she been submissive like this. The fact that she detested him for reducing her to this only intensified the sexual tension; only enhanced the lust that was burning in her pussy. Somehow, because she had never been treated this way before, it was infinitely more exciting. She sucked his cock with a vengeance now, giving herself completely to his pleasure.

“Tell me,” she pleaded between mouthfuls. “Tell me what a good cock sucker I am!”

“Oh, yeah,” he breathed heavily. “You suck good cock! Yeah, show me how you like sucking my cock. Make me cum in your mouth.” At this she redoubled her efforts, desperate to make that throbbing shaft erupt, but again he pulled away. 

He stepped back, kicked off his shoes and slid his pants down. When he moved back in front of her though, he did not let her start sucking him again. Instead, he pulled her to her feet and faced her toward the kitchen table. With one hand he pushed her forward over the table and with the other he lifted her skirt.

No! her mind screamed. Not yet! For some reason it was important that she get him off with her mouth. But she was powerless to stop him as he slid his cock up the inside of her thigh, pausing just below the dripping furnace of her cunt. He slipped just the tip between her lips and Debbie felt her orgasm start building. He rubbed it around, teasing her clit as the pressure mounted within her. She closed her eyes and rocked slowly back and forth against him, but he was careful not to let more than the tip slip inside her. The tension, the anticipation were enough to make her scream. Then he thrust himself into her with a sudden, deft stroke and the orgasm erupted like fireworks. Her body writhed and shook as her whole being experienced ecstasy in a way she had never known before. Her voice trembled as she moaned out her pleasure.

Kyle held himself deep in her, not moving as she contorted in the grip of orgasm. As she slowly came back to herself, she realized that he had not cum, but neither was he fucking her. He was just standing there, impaling her to her deepest parts on his massive rod. She could feel now how completely he filled her; how he touched places that Paul never could. He started to pull out and she gasped in protest. He drove it back into her and she knew he could—would make her cum again.

“You like that?” he said in her ear. She nodded, moaning. “Want more?”

“Oh, yes!”

“Okay, but first you have to finish what you started.” He pulled his cock from her, causing her to gasp involuntarily at the sudden loss. “Get back on your knees and finish sucking my cock.” She whirled around and looked at him with wide doe eyes, aware that her humiliation was not yet complete. She saw his shaft, shiny and sticky with her juices. She had never done that before; never tasted herself on a man’s cock before. Kyle could probably tell that by her reaction, she realized. The thought should have galled her, she knew, but all she could think of was getting him off.

She dropped to her knees again and took hold of his sticky member. The pungent, fishy smell caused her to hesitate. Then she took it in her mouth, tasting the salty-sweet flavor of her pussy. She went slowly at first, but soon resumed her fevered pitch. She felt him building toward orgasm, and couldn’t believe how much she was tingling in anticipation; how much she couldn’t wait to have him cum in her mouth. And Debbie knew she was going to do something else for Kyle that she never did for Paul: she was going to swallow every drop of his sperm.

“Aaahhhhh, Gaaaahhd!” he cried out, as his cock spasmed in her mouth, squirting gob after gob of thick, salty cum. She could feel the heat of it as it slid in chunks down her throat to her belly. She never slowed her pace, but continued sucking him, coaxing out every last dribble, until his shaft began to soften in her mouth. Her whole mouth tingled with the aftertaste of his cum as she sucked him gently.

She had a strange sense of vindication as she drew his drooping shaft from her mouth. Being able to make him cum gave her a sensation of equality; like it was proof he wanted her. It was ironic, but somehow she felt less submissive now on her knees before him with her belly full of his semen than she had when she had first unbuttoned her blouse for him.

“Ah, God that was great! Did you swallow all that?” 

She smiled bashfully and nodded.

“Yes, I did,” she said, her green eyes looking into his blue ones as she stood up and dropped her skirt. “Now let’s see what your tongue can do.” She led him into the living room and sat on the floor. Leaning back on her elbows, she spread her legs invitingly. He looked for a moment at her face, then at the soft yellow hair covering her mound. She could tell by the way he looked right at it that he had wanted to know if she was a natural blonde or not. He smiled ever so slightly at what he saw. She tingled. He took off his shirt and got down on the floor with her, running his hands up her thighs as he moved his mouth toward her waiting pussy. 

He still had that smug look on his face, she saw, only more so. Of course he looks smug, stupid! she told herself. He just got a blowjob from his friend’s wife simply by whipping out his cock. She hardly cared though. He was going to make her cum again. He was going to take her places sexually she hadn’t been in years; maybe not ever. And if her next orgasm was anywhere near as good as the last, there would be nothing he could ask that she wouldn’t do for him.

He nibbled, kissed and licked his way up her left thigh, stopping just before her pussy. He exhaled his hot breath across her clit and brought his mouth right up to her lips before dropping down to her right thigh and repeating the process. The anticipation for her was unbearable. She moved her own hand to touch herself, but he prevented her. In frustration she fell back on the floor and dug her fingers into the carpet. Then his mouth was right there again, breathing on her. She quivered, her clit aching for the caress of his tongue. Just when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, as she was about to scream out, he placed his tongue on her.

“Ohhhhh, God! Ohhhhhhh, God!” she screamed, her body twitching as pleasure and relief roared through her. His tongue slowly traced her clit, building the pressure inside her. It was like floodwaters gathering behind a dam. Soon that dam would burst, and she couldn’t even imagine what that was going to be like. He flicked his tongue faster and faster, while slipping a finger up inside of her. She had her feet over his shoulders now, squeezing his head between her supple thighs as he licked her closer and closer toward orgasm. Then he grabbed her hips with his strong, calloused hands and started rocking her whole body back and forth against his tongue and chin; fucking her with his face. She wrapped her legs around behind his head and pulled him into her throbbing pussy. 

It was coming, she knew, like a tidal wave racing toward shore, and would sweep away anything in its path. For a split second she worried he would stop before she got there, but he never slowed. If the last one had been fireworks, this one was the atomic bomb. A low, primal moan began deep in her throat and grew to a scream as her hips bucked against his mouth, wrenching and spasming as she came. He kept licking and her orgasm continued with him. She had never had an orgasm last so long before, and while it wracked her body she was aware of nothing else. Her legs dropped lifelessly to the floor as the ecstasy subsided. She was too exhausted to move and for several minutes she lay there, eyes closed in pure bliss, trying to catch her breath.

Debbie felt him pull away from her and she opened her eyes. He was coming toward her on his knees, his member hard again. She stopped him before he reached her and guided him to the sofa. As he sat there she slipped between his legs and knelt on the carpet in front of him.

“Don’t you want me to?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. He thinks I don’t want him to fuck me, she realized.

“Oh, I want you to,” she replied. “I just…” She didn’t know how to finish the thought. But after the orgasm he had given her, she needed to pleasure him again; needed to kneel down again for him. “I just… I just have to.”

Looking directly into his eyes, she took his shaft in her hand and stroked it. He returned her gaze as she leaned forward and licked his balls, gently sucking first one, then the other, never breaking eye contact with him. Then as he watched her, Debbie took his rod into her mouth again, slowly sliding her lips up and down it. She had to have him see her sucking his cock. She needed him to gaze into her eyes as she did. She knew he would recognize the look in her eyes; had probably seen it more times than he could count: that of a woman who would do anything to please him. She stopped and settled back on her heels, still looking right at him.

“Do you want me to suck it some more?” Her words sounded almost meek in her own ears, and part of her could not believe she had uttered them. But at the same time it thrilled her. When he nodded, she didn’t hesitate to put him back in her mouth. Debbie closed her eyes, put her hands on his thighs and slowly, sensually kissed and licked his shaft. She rubbed her face against it, feeling its hardness against the curves of her cheek, and then lowered her lips over it. 

She was just starting to get really into blowing him again, head bobbing sensuously on his shaft, when he took hold of her arms and coaxed her up on top of him. She knelt on the sofa, straddling him, his pulsing head just below the dripping lips of her cunt. She reached down and held him steady as she settled herself down on top of his cock. She tried to keep eye contact as she did, but as he filled her up, her eyelids squeezed shut, as if on their own. She threw her head back sheer delight. For the second time that night Debbie could feel him probing places she never knew she had.

She rode him slowly at first, relishing the feeling of having that big cock penetrate her. Then she was bouncing up and down on him, hammering him deeper and deeper into her. Each thrust seemed to reach further into her, awaken some new sensation in the chasm between her legs. Her breasts heaved up and down, slapping against her and each other with audible smacks. He reached up and caressed them, fingers tracing the hard bullets of her nipples. Then he leaned his head toward her and took one of her nipples in his mouth. His tongue danced around it, squeezed it gently against the edge of his teeth, causing her body to shudder. It was like electricity arcing between her nipple and pussy. She started to feel the building of a fourth orgasm, a milestone she had reached only once before, and that had been on her honeymoon. It was still a long way off, she knew. But she was beyond doubting that it would happen.

She was riding him hard, her knees bouncing on the cushions of the sofa, desperate to keep him driving into her. But her thighs were burning from the exertion and she felt herself slowing. Then Kyle clamped her body to him, stopping her altogether. He stood without slipping out of her and she wrapped her legs around his back to keep him inside. He was carrying her toward the stairs and she realized he was headed for her bedroom.

No, not in our bed! she thought. But it was only a reflex. If Kyle had carried her out to her front lawn right now she would have fucked him there with her neighbors watching. As he climbed the steps, she bounced against him, grinding his shaft into her, making her yearn for that next orgasm. Reaching the bedroom, he bent down and laid her gently on the bed. When he stood, he slipped from her, leaving her with a sudden and awful feeling of emptiness. 

She rolled over and turned around, so she was on her hands and knees, facing him. For the second time that night Debbie lapped her own juices from his shaft. When she had done it earlier, she had not liked it. She had been repulsed by doing it, but had been titillated by the way he had bent her to his will; made her do something that she could not believe she would ever do. This time, however, she did of her own choice, reveling in the dirtiness of tasting herself on a cock that had moments ago been buried in her. She licked off the sticky crust that had formed at the base of his organ and the moisture that had run down his balls. 

When she had thoroughly cleaned him, she braced herself on her elbows and slid him deep into her mouth, determined to take in every inch of him. As he reached the back of her mouth, she gagged, and for a moment she was afraid she might puke. But slowly she worked him in deeper and deeper, feeling his massive rod inching into her throat. Suddenly, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She pulled back from him gasping. Then she drew a deep breath and plunged his cock into her throat again. This time she did not stop until her nose pressed against his stomach.

“Ah, goddam that’s incredible,” he moaned, running his hands through her hair. She was disappointed that she couldn’t see the look on his face. She was also sorry she couldn’t watch herself do this; it would have been awesome to watch his huge bone vanish between her lips. She had an idea. She slid him back out of her mouth.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she whispered, kissing his purple head. She jumped from the bed and opened the closet door, which had a full-length mirror on the back. She positioned it to reflect the bed, then moved Kyle so the mirror captured him in profile. “I want to watch,” she explained with a slightly embarrassed smile, climbing back onto the bed and positioning herself before him.

Seeing the size of his tool side by side with herself, Debbie couldn’t believe she had taken him all in. My God, she thought. Where did it all go? She was about to find out. She flipped her hair behind her ear, so it wouldn’t obscure her view and then took him back into her throat. Once again she had to stop before she reached the base of his shaft, pulled back and plunged again. Debbie’s nose touched Kyle’s stomach, his cock stretching her mouth wide. She turned her head as much as she could, and looked into the mirror. She watched in fascination as she pulled back, amazed at the sight of so much cock coming out of her mouth. It was like watching a magician’s trick. Again she drove forward and swallowed him completely. This time she watched him as she pulled away. He did not take his eyes off her as she bobbed once, twice a third time. He was moaning louder with each one.




Promises



Then she was leaning back on her haunches, slowly stroking him, unable to keep from smiling at the look of bliss on his face. Was he a bit humbled by the fact she could deep throat him? Or pleasantly surprised that she could?

“God that was fucking great!” he breathed.

“I wasn’t sure I could,” she admitted with a little giggle. “I mean, I have before but…” for an instant, a part of her did not want to say it; did not want to bow to his ego. But the rest of her was aching to have him inside her again, any rationalizations about teaching him a lesson long gone. “But not with anyone as big as you,” she finished, looking up into his eyes. He gave a deep sigh and slipped his hand behind her head, pulling her toward him again. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, letting him pull her mouth down over his member.

Debbie was amazed at how sexually stimulated she was by the way he forced her head down onto his cock; couldn’t believe how much she desired to be on her knees for him. If it wasn’t for the aching emptiness in her pussy, she might have sucked him off again right then. 

She reluctantly pulled her lips away from his rod. Still on her hands and knees, she turned and presented her firm, round ass to him. She wanted him to take her from behind, drive her hard into the mattress and bring her to that mystical fourth orgasm. She felt him climb up onto the bed behind her, but instead of his cock sliding into her, she felt his tongue. He was licking her sopping pussy, his finger lightly twirling on her clit. Her hips bucked involuntarily as shiver of pleasure lit up her body. His tongue and finger worked in unison, sliding, licking and touching her just the way she needed to be touched. She cried out as her whole body trembled again.

Then Debbie felt Kyle’s tongue glide up to her asshole, probing gently around her sphincter. No man had ever done that to her before and for a brief instant, she was uncomfortable with it. Whether it was the four glasses of wine, or her newfound willingness at his hands, or both, she didn’t know. But as soon as she accepted it, she realized how wonderfully erotic it felt to have a man’s tongue tickling her anus. His finger continued to expertly massage her clit, pausing now and again to slide into her hot, waiting pussy.

Debbie was accustomed to an unimaginative routine of foreplay, then sex. Stopping in mid-fuck to pleasure each other was something new for her and she found deliciously erotic. Giving had excited her, but receiving… wow! Kyle was so good at it that he could probably bring her to her fourth orgasm without putting his cock back in her. But she knew he wouldn’t do it like that. He was going to make her cum with his rod pounding into her from behind. This brief pause was only serving to whet her appetites further.

She was moaning, rocking her ass against his tongue and finger, when he stopped licking and positioned himself behind her. Once again his sizeable organ was sliding into her. He took hold of her hips and drew himself into her as deep as he would go. Debbie pushed back against him, reveling in how he felt even larger doggie style. He pulled almost all the way out of her and then drove himself deep into her again. He repeated this several times before she was aware that, mixed with ecstasy, she was experiencing, was pain. 

Pain for Debbie had never before been erotic. Now, however, as his jackhammer strokes felt like they might split her in two, she craved it. He was going faster now, but still pounding every bit as deep. Her face and breasts were pressed against the bed as she held her ass up high for him to ravage. Her moans were rising in pitch and now were gasps and squeals, shaking with the rhythm of his strokes. Over and over he plunged into her, hard and deep each time, shaking her insides with every thrust. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes, her breath driven from her by the force of fucking. It felt so good she thought it might kill her.

Suddenly, she experienced a sensation that caused her eyes to pop wide open, a squeal to escape from her throat. She was so overloaded with sexual stimulation that at first she didn’t realize what had happened. Then she felt his finger sliding deeper into her ass, electrifying parts of her she never thought possible. His cock continued to pound her pussy, filling her over and over, bringing her ever closer to another orgasm. But the excitement she felt when he put his finger up her ass told Debbie there was one more thing she wanted.

She had had anal sex three times. Once with a college boyfriend and twice with Paul. In all three cases she had thoroughly hated it. Tonight, however, it would be different. Those other times had been devoid of spontaneity, had felt almost like lab experiments. She had just let them do it to her. There had been no excitement or pleasure in it for her.

Kyle was working a second finger into her now as her muscles relaxed to accommodate him. His hard, rhythmic pounding of her pussy combined with the excitement of his fingers in her ass were driving her to the brink of orgasm.

“Ohhh, God!” she gasped. “Put it in my ass! Put it in my ass!” Debbie wanted Kyle to make her cum with his cock in her ass. She drew a deep breath as he pushed the head of his member into her back door. He was slowly working it into her with short, gentle thrusts, each a little deeper than the last. It was the most exquisite, erotic pain-slash-pleasure she had ever known. He had just barely got half of his cock sliding in and out of her ass when she started cumming. He must have felt the beginning of her orgasm, because he suddenly gave a hard, deep thrust that drove almost all of his cock into her. The explosion of pain and orgasm hit her simultaneously. 

Debbie wanted to scream in agony; wanted to scream in pleasure, but in truth, she had no idea if she ever made a sound. She couldn’t see or hear or feel anything but the high voltage thrill that was electrifying her body; her whole being. Her body rocked and spasmed as she experienced several orgasms in quick succession, something that had never happened to her before. She would never be sure how many she had or how long they lasted, but she was completely unaware of anything around her while they did. Even after the orgasms passed, she lay face down on the bed, her body still shuddering in ecstasy. She could hardly breathe, she felt so satisfied. She lay panting and tingling, every nerve ending in her body singing.

She lay face down, spread-eagle on the bed exhausted, reveling in the aftermath of the most incredible orgasms she had ever had. She became aware that Kyle was not with her. She heard water running in the bathroom and knew when he came out, he would not get back into bed with her. She rolled onto her back, slight feelings of disappointment creeping in. It would have been the ultimate if he laid down beside her, pulled her into his strong arms and held her all night. Maybe it was better if he didn’t, she told herself. Better that she leave it as a fuck. If he were to curl up in bed with her afterward, it would be more like an affair. Or worse.

Kyle came out of the bathroom and looked at her without saying anything, smiling ever so slightly. Debbie spread her legs wide as he watched, running her hand up her stomach and encircling her breast playfully. She gave him a smile that held nothing back; told him quite clearly he had rocked her world. She wanted to say something, ask him if he felt as good, as thoroughly satisfied, as she did. But no words came out. She may have been afraid to hear the answer, or maybe she didn’t really care how she compared to his other lovers.

“Kyle, you’ve got to promise me…” she started, looking away from him, her smile evaporating.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he assured her. “Paul will never find out.”

She shook her head. “No, not that. I know you’ll keep this a secret. No, promise me this was a one-time thing. That you’ll never try to make it happen again.”

Had he started to protest? Certainly he could point out that she been the instigator tonight. But then he just smiled and nodded. “I promise,” he told her.

As she watched his naked body leave the room, she understood the reason she had made him promise. If he wanted to have her again, she didn’t think she would be strong enough to refuse. Sex with Kyle had been the most thrilling experience of her life. If she ever had the chance again, would she be able to say no?

It hit her suddenly that he was going to get dressed and leave and that this fantasy would fade into memory, never to repeat. Never again would his big cock drive her to the heights of ecstasy she had just experienced. The rest of her life would be spent trying to recapture those feelings; trying in vain, she feared. Debbie wasn’t ready for it to end. She jumped out of bed and hurried down the stairs. 

He had gathered up his clothes and was just about to put his pants back on when she reached him. Debbie pulled his jeans from his hands and led him back to the sofa. He complied without question, as if he had already known she was not yet done with him. He sat as she climbed on to the sofa, kneeling beside him, kissing his chest and abdomen, her hair falling into his lap. She ran her hands all over him, feeling the muscles in his biceps, chest and thighs. She slowly kissed down his stomach, paused to rub her face against his cock, which was already beginning to stiffen again, and then continued down first one thigh, then the other. She smothered him with soft, sensual kisses, as her hands traced the lines of his body.

When she worked her way back up his legs again, she found him almost fully erect again. She took him in her hand and began licking him, running her tongue in turn over his head, shaft and balls. Then Debbie wrapped her lips around his cock and bobbed slowly up and down on it. She closed her eyes and savored the taste and feel of him in her mouth. She had lost count of how many times she had gone down on him tonight, but she knew this would be the last. She could hardly believe it, but she was filled with a sense of disappointment and loss. She continued her steady sucking for several minutes, because she simply didn’t want to stop.

Then she straddled him again and slowly lowered herself onto his shaft. Debbie wasn’t as wet as she had been earlier and she was surprised to find how sore she was. She rocked back and forth, slipping a little bit more of him in with each pass. When he was entirely in her, she couldn’t move. She knew she could not go again, so she just sat astride him and absorbed the sensation of him inside her.

“I, I’m sorry,” she apologized. “But I just can’t do it again.” She leaned against him, pressing her breasts to his chest, kissing his neck. “I really wanted to though,” she added unnecessarily.

“S’okay,” he told her. “I don’t think I could either. Besides,” he added. “You were spectacular.”

“Really?” she asked, and immediately felt foolish.

“Really,” he repeated, looking her in the eye. At his words she felt a hot flush pass through her body. The feeling of satisfaction, already beyond any she had ever experienced, deepened still further. She swiveled her hips back and forth, delighting as much in the feel of his cock inside her as in his words. Her head would explode if she got any happier.

“I think you’re lying to me,” she said with a sly grin.. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head.

“No, I mean it,” he said. “You were incredible.”

“I didn’t mean about that, silly. Of course I was!” She smiled at him. “I meant, you lied that you couldn’t go again.” Debbie climbed off of him, wincing involuntarily at the emptiness she experienced as he withdrew from her. “I may be too sore, but I’ll bet you’re not.”

She knelt beside him on the sofa again, took hold of his member and stroked it. She kissed him on the chest, neck and lips and then whispered in his ear.

“Did you like how I sucked your cock?”

“God, yes,” he breathed.

“Good, ‘cause I’m going to suck it again.” She bent down and sucked gently on the tip, then pulled back to whisper again. “I’m going to suck your cock until you cum in my mouth.” She settled herself into a comfortable position and lowered her head into his lap. She slid his rod into her mouth and bobbed her head slowly up and down his shaft. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste of his organ, his stiffness on her tongue and the heavy sighs of his breathing. Steadily, sensuously, Debbie massaged his cock with her lips and tongue. She thought she could be happy to go on sucking him like that all night. But she wanted to make him cum again.

“God, Kyle,” she said, slipping him momentarily from her mouth. “Can you believe I’m lying here sucking your cock?” With that she started bobbing faster, working him with her hand now as well. He moaned his appreciation, running his fingers faster and faster though her tangled and sweaty blonde hair.

“Mmmmmm, cum in my mouth, Kyle,” she told him, pausing only long enough to get the words out. “I want to swallow your load again.” She began moaning herself as she buried her head in his lap, sucking him as hard and as fast as she knew how. She didn’t think she had ever talked or moaned while giving a blow job. It made her feel like a porn star. She sucked furiously now, pumping him with her hand as well, pausing every so often to say something erotic.

“God I love having your dick in my mouth. Mmmmm” Suck, suck, suck.

“Aaaahhh, let me taste your cum on my tongue.” Suck, suck.

“Mmmmm, just let me taste you again.”

It took a while but she patiently stayed with it. He called out her name as he came.

“Oh God, Debbie! God, Debbie! Oh, yeah!”

For the second time that night she tasted his sperm and for the second time she swallowed it. She sucked on him slowly after he had cum, delighting in the way his body shook with the pleasure given by her lips. She finally let his spent member slip from her mouth, not without a sense of loss; of yearning. She rested her head between his legs, her cheek against his cock and balls.

“Kyle,” she said weakly. “You know that promise I made you make?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I made you promise because…” Debbie hesitated, not sure how to say it. “Because I might not say no. And I couldn’t do that to Paul. You understand?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Really,” she said with feeling. “I mean it. I don’t know if I could turn you down if all you wanted was a blow job.” She kissed his balls for emphasis. “So you can’t ask me, or even look at me in a way that I think you might ask me. Promise?”

“I promise,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, climbing off of him. “Thank you.”

Kyle got up and pulled on his clothes. Debbie watched, enjoying seeing him dress, but felt disappointment as his clothes hid his body from her. She stood up and put her arms around him as he finished dressing. He pulled her naked body against him and kissed her on the top of her head. Then he let her go and went to the front door.

“Kyle,” Debbie called as he was stepping out into the rainy night. He paused, waiting. “Maybe some time you could break your promise, okay?”

He smiled and pulled the door shut behind him.



Promises



Based on the Short Story:

KATHY'S STORY by Kathy

* * * * * 

My boyfriend likes my sister, Alexa. When I was away last year he took her out a couple of times, not as a date, but in order to be closer to me, virtually. Alexa is my twin. 

Alexa was always quieter than I and never had the luck with guys--not all good luck, by any means--that I did. But she did like Robert and came along with us sometimes to the movies, or out on a picnic, or to a party when she was alone. I didn't mind; we were twins. 

Last New Year's Rob and I threw a party at our house. It was very successful and a lot of our friends turned up. Alexa met a seemingly-nice guy named Jim and danced with him most of the evening. Just after midnight, however, I found her alone in the bathroom in a flood of tears. 

"What's wrong?" I helped her off the floor and onto the commode seat. I wet a hand-towel and wiped her face. "Where is Jim?"

"We had an argument," she sobbed. 

"Blow your nose," I told her. 

She blew her nose into the hand towel and explained: "He wanted me to go home with him and I said no and he wanted to--hic--know why and I told him I liked him but I didn't think I should go home with him on the first--hic--date and we were all right for a while but after a while he started to--"

"Okay, okay," I said. "I get it."

She sniffed loudly. "I'm a moron, aren't I?"

I told her she was but I kissed her on the forehead to show her it was all right. "Where is he now?" I asked. 

"Gone," she said morosely. "I think."

I left for a moment to circuit the house but Jim was indeed gone. Bastard.

"You stay here tonight," I told her. She was legally drunk anyway and I wasn't driving her home. I was a little drunk myself. And I wanted my sister.

"You're sure?" she said.

"Of course, I'm sure." I guided her back downstairs and into the kitchen and made her eat some food. 

"Rob won't mind?"

A hilarious image ripped through my mind. "Rob wouldn't mind it if you fucked him," I said aloud.

She sprayed Doritos and dip into her hand. "Kathy!"

I started laughing. 

"God!" She wiped her mouth and rinsed her hand under the faucet. "You shouldn't do that. You embarrass me."

"That's why I did it," I said.

At two o'clock we shut down the party and bedded our guests in every available space. Two couples and five singles shared the basement; Alexa was on the couch; four acquaintances lay on air mattresses in the living room, and four of my best friends were in the two spare bedrooms upstairs. I locked the bedroom door to keep the riffraff out. 

"Are we gonna fuck?" Rob wanted to know.

"Are you gonna make me?" I asked him.

"I can make you if you want me too," he said.

I took off my clothes and made him screw me good.

* * *

At just after three o'clock I awoke and went to the bathroom. My bladder was bursting. We have two bathrooms upstairs so I had this one locked up. There was a knock on the corridor door.

"Kath?" It was Alexa.

"Yeah."

"Let me in."

I let her in and she scuttled over to the commode, yanked down her jeans and sat down. "Oh, God," she sighed, letting her urine out. "I thought I'd die."

I rinsed my hands and dried them on a towel. I played one hand through her blonde hair. "You okay?" I asked.

She shrugged.

"I think that Jim's a real asshole, Alex." 

"I do too."

"I don't even know him."

"I wish I didn't."

"Where'd he come from, anyway?"

She shrugged again.

"Listen," I said. I had been thinking about this since midnight and it had the right feel. "You remember when we were thirteen?"

"Yeah," she said slowly.

"Remember how upset you were that, that boy, whatever his name was--"

"Richard."

"Yeah, Richard, how he had you all upset and crying your eyes out? How I wanted to beat him up?"

She sat on the commode and bobbed her head. Her face was starting to redden. Her hands gripped tightly in her lap. 

"You remember what we did, Alex?"

"I remember."

"Didn't you feel better afterwards?" I asked.

"Kath," she muttered, eyes not meeting mine. She shifted uneasily on the seat, forgetting to wipe herself. 

"Maybe tonight's a good night to find out if we still have the power to heal ourselves, Alex," I said. Then I bent down and I kissed her.

* * *

At four o'clock Rob rolled over onto his side to face us. He pulled the bed sheets up to his chin, depriving Alex and I of cover. We giggled softly so as not to awaken him.

"Do you think he'll know?" Alex whispered.

"I think there's no doubt about that." I traced the line of her nose, around her lips, over her chin, and down between her breasts. I cupped one breast gently in my hand, then let my fingertips continue southward on their journey. Alex shuddered. 

"You heal real good," she said.

"You're the perfect patient," I told her. I let my fingertip circle her bellybutton and she shuddered again. 

"It was different this time," she said.

"We're older."

"That isn't all."

"We're more mature." I let my fingertips glide down her belly to the thin stripe of pubic hair and then between her legs. We both shuddered now. 

"Can we do it again?" she pleaded.

I drew her to me and wrapped her tight with my legs and with my left arm while my right hand cuddled her bottom. Her lips parted and we danced with our tongues; sounds suspiciously like deep moans echoed in our chests. Nuclear reactors began to redline in our groins. I probed her with my middle finger and let her enter me with her own. We coiled like mating snakes, twisted like spaghetti. Orgasm arrived and we rode it like a magical surfer. We wanted more--desperately--but didn't want Rob waking to find us like that. 

"I could wake him," I whispered. "I know he likes you."

Her eyes flared momentarily, but she shook her head. "I like him too but you and Rob are a couple. You might not mind now, but events have a way of turning around on you when things go bad." 

I wanted her to be happy, but she was right. A forced relationship could shipwreck us both. And besides, being with her was enough. 

"You promise me," I told her, drawing her back to my lips, "next time you get screwed over by a guy, you come and see me."

"I will," she promised.

And my sister always keeps her promise.

THE END



Promises



"I promise I'll wait for you to come home from college."

"Will you still marry me when I come home?"

Smiling softly into his dark brown eyes, Korreenna lays her hand gently against Darin's cheek. Her own hazel eyes shining with love and unshed tears. 

"I'll marry you when you come home Darin, that promise is sealed in gold." 

Lifting her hand toward his lips Darin glances the shimmering diamond resting lovingly against Korreeanna's finger. Kissing her knuckles tenderly he watches as a single tear slides down her cheek, her soft smile trembling slightly. Releasing her hand, he pulls her into his strong embrace.

"Well, I better go before I'm late for my flight." 

Lifting his duffle bag with a sigh Darin turns to meet with his parents. 

"Darin, remember that I love you." 

Turning at her voice, he smiles brightly. 

"And I love you."

Those were the last words we spoke to one another on August 15th, 1990. The last words I'll remember for the rest of my life...

It was a beautiful day in August, I was going away to college and Korreeanna was helping me do a few last minute things. We had been going together for four years and were planning on getting married as soon as possible. 

She was beautiful, long brown hair and brown eyes that changed to green whenever she was happy or excited about something. She was sun kissed to a golden tan, with a wonderfully beautiful complexion. She would almost outshine the sun, at least in my eyes. 

Her figure, so fit, she could turn heads and not even realize what she was doing. If she did realize, she didn't say. When she was in school, the guys tried to get her to go out. Korreeanna was quick to turn them down. A shake of her head, and down the hall she went. I was the only man alive in her world; I wish she were still alive in mine.

What she saw in me, I don't know. At the time I was always depressed and I ate a lot in my depression, which in turn caused some health problems and a weight struggle. I've always like the girl, the first day when she walked into the Youth room at church I almost couldn't believe what I saw. I laid eyes on her and something inside of me snapped, a voice kept saying go for it. Don't let her get away. 

I had a sinking feeling that she wouldn't even take notice of me. Boy was I wrong. It took me two and a half years but I did it. I got my Korreeanna. 

That day she was helping me pack for college, when she came across some pictures I had taken of her and of us together. She sat down on the floor and spread them out all around her I had taken what seemed to be over hundreds of pictures of my girl. We had also gone to have professional shots done at a local photography. She was so beautiful that day, It was a couple days before her senior prom so instead of going through the line at the school, we killed the time by having fun in an intimate matter. Worked for us.

It did take us some time to find a tux that would fit my build; the place we finally managed to get one said I was extremely hard to fit. I did bench 250 at the time and Korreeanna loved it! I was her Big Grizzly Koz. That was fine, since Koz was a nickname of mine. I'd had it since I was in school co coaching the football team. 

We also decided to get our pictures done as husband and wife, since we were planning on getting married very soon. My mom thought it was a pretty neat idea, which would take some of the pressure off when we started planning the big event. Korreeanna was using my mothers wedding gown, since I had no sisters and her mother didn't have a gown. That was cool.

Mom and Korree took a couple days to alter the dress and fashion it up a bit. When I saw Korree in that gown, I almost cried because we weren't actually husband and wife. But I was consoled with the knowledge that the plans were in motion and people close to us were gearing up for the big event.

She sat on the floor looking at the pictures, smiling at the ones she really liked. Picking up one of us together in our prom outfits, she handed it to me saying that she wanted me to keep it as close to my heart as possible until we could be together again. 

That was a long time ago.

I was in my second week of college, my grades were great. I was sitting in photography when I was called out of class for an important meeting with the Dean. Wondering what I could have done, or then chuckling I figured it was dad calling to say he'd wrecked that Impala of mine, or that maybe he and mom were coming to visit. I wasn't prepared for what met me in the office.

I walked in completely expecting to speak to dad or mom or even Korree, when I entered the darkened room I stood dumbfounded to see my father standing in the middle of the floor. The look on his face made my heart clench and that little voice in my head said go pack, you're going home lad.

"Darin, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but it's best that it comes from someone in person and not on the phone. Not this type of information." 

"It's about Korree isn't it?" 

I remember clenching my fists as if I would break something.

"Yes lad it's about Korreeanna. Darin, she's."

"She's not going to marry me now is she?" 

I would kill the guy that turned my girls head.

"No lad, it isn't that, how can I say this?" 

I remember dad turning away from me with a look I'd never seen on his face before. 

"Maybe you should sit down son."

I sat down but still wasn't prepared for what was about to come. 

"Lad, she's been in a very bad car accident. The Impala is totally destroyed and.."

"As long as Korree's alright I don't give a wooden nickel about the car, it can be replaced dad."

"That's just it son, Korree didn't make it."

I sat there stunned, not believing my ears, not wanting to believe my father or what he had just told me. It couldn't be. She was a safe driver, always wore her belt. Never speeding, or running lights. This wasn't happening.

Looking up at my father I saw the pain in his eyes, the tears were hot against my cheeks. I could have cared less at that moment, my Korree was gone. This was some horrible joke. I felt dead inside, no pain, just emptiness. 

Standing silently I turned and left the room, heading for my dorm. Walking down the long corridor I began to think about all the fun times we'd had together. Her laughter rang in my ears and her smiling face flashed before my eyes, I packed my things and the pictures she'd sent with me. I packed without seeing what I was doing. All I could see was my Korree's face.

The time passed without me even knowing it. Her funeral was in two days, during the visiting hours at the funeral home, I heard the apologies and the cries of family and friends. How unfair life was. I was bitter.

The day of the funeral I went up to the casket and looked down on her beautiful face. She was dressed in a lovely white dress, the gold necklace I had given her for our second anniversary lying against her throat. She wore the intertwining heart band I had given her for our first anniversary. Oh God this was so unfair.

The diamond engagement ring I had given her lay nestled safely behind my class ring. Smiling I could hear her say that was the way until she got the real band. I leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek and then on the lips. Lifting her left hand I fixed the diamond so it lay properly on her finger and settled the class ring as well, I couldn't bear to think that they were uncomfortable on her. 

Laying her hand back down, I leaned close to her ear and whispered how much I loved her, and how I would wait until we could be together as it was meant to be. Backing away from her, I watched with breaking heart as they closed the lid and sealed her body into the satin lined tomb. I stood motionless as she was carried out of the funeral home and taken to the hurse.

Standing there amongst friends and family in the August sunshine, we watched as Korreeanna was put into the ground, painful tears choked me as I threw the first handful of warm soil onto her casket and then watched as my Korreeanna and my heart were buried forever.



Promises



Pulling back, breathless and flushed, from the kiss, Laura couldn't quite believe what had just happened.

"What's the matter?" Paul's voice was concerned, but tinged with a sardonic amusement.

"I can't do this – I can't believe you want to... it's just, I don't know – this is just the last thing I expected."

"I don't know why, I thought we'd connected. I thought you wanted this. I wouldn't have kissed you if you hadn't wanted me to."

Blushing with silly pleasure she turned away, smiling. "I did want you to, Paul, I did, but we shouldn't. There are so many reasons and it's not fair on you..."

"Stop it. If you want to kiss me then there isn't a problem, because I want to kiss you, too."

Looking into his eyes, earnest and clear with intent, she couldn't believe this boy actually wanted to kiss her, her, when he must have dozens of girls falling over themselves to be with him. She traced the soft roundness of his cheek, savouring the slight rasp of his stubble and the dip of his dimple, then she closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift away as his mouth touched hers...

"Mum, hello? Mum!" Laura opened her eyes with a start, a coffee cup dropping with a splash back into the tepid soap-scummed water. "I've been calling for ages, didn't you hear me? What's the matter?"

"Sorry love, I was just... day-dreaming, that's all. I was in another world entirely. What did you want me for?"

"Well it's nearly lunchtime and Dad's saying he's hungry."

"Is he? Oh, OK, right, I'd better get on with things then. I don't suppose you'd mind finishing the washing-up for me, would you Kay?"

"No, I don't mind." Kay looked at her mother curiously, her eyes narrowed as she considered something. "Are you sure you're alright? I mean, you really haven't been yourself the last couple of weeks."

"Really darling, I'm absolutely fine. Nothing a bit of activity won't cure, I'm sure." 

Taking off the rubber gloves and hurrying over to the 'fridge, Laura took a deep breath and hoped the frigid air would cool her cheeks. The last thing she needed was for her daughter to guess her thoughts, it would upset her so much if she knew what Laura was thinking about. No, she'd have to be more careful, make sure she maintained the got-it-all-under-control Mum act and keep her day-dreaming to moments when she could be certain of her solitude.

* * * *

Hot sun beat down on their bodies through the open window, the breeze merely stirring the warm air instead of providing any relief from the heat. Laura felt languid, her face soft and happy as her usual cares and concerns disappeared into the haze of everyday life – something completely separate from this dreamlike existence. The smell of Paul's hair as she held him was clean and sweet, like grass that had been cut and left to dry in the sun, and she inhaled it in great, greedy gusts, trying to get her fill of him, making sure she had something to remember when she went back to her real world.

"I wish we could stay like this, in this moment, forever." Her voice was soft as she murmured into his hair, but she wanted him to hear her. Wanted him to give her the answers that would release her, one way or another.

"Why can't we? I love you. I want to spend my life with you." 

Tears stung her eyes as she bent forwards to look at him. "I love you too."

The words seemed too simple and meaningless to convey how she really felt, especially after hearing him say them first. It seemed inconceivable that he could love her, but she needed to believe that he did, because she loved him so much.

"Then let's do it. Let's run away together, spend our lives together. I love you, I promise I'll look after you."

"I want to, I really do, but it's not as simple as that, you know it isn't."

"It could be if you wanted it to." Paul had sat up to look at her, his body pulling away from hers and leaving her skin cold and clammy where he had been pressed to her.

"What would everybody say?"

"Who cares what they'd say? We'd be long gone and far away, living our lives. Just leave him, he doesn't love you like I do. He just wants someone who'll look after him, a housewife, something to possess. I'd cherish you and look after you. I promise."

"He made me promise not to leave."

"Did you? Did you promise him that?" A sly smile slid over Laura's face. "I had my fingers crossed."

They grinned at each other, their faces alight with love and trust.

"Then you'll leave him? You'll come and be with me?"

"I will."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Are you crossing your fingers?" She giggled and wriggled into his arms as he took her hands and held them up to his lips. "Promise again."

"I promise." And she stopped giggling and watched him kiss her fingers, one by one, as if she were something very precious, something to be cherished. "I promise."

* * * *

The days seemed to be passing very slowly and very fast all at the same time. Every time she turned around the hands of the clock seemed to have raced 'round the face again and yet each minute trickled by like treacle. This week was an agony of waiting and yet there was a strange pleasure in it. She savoured each moment, dragging out little chores into lengthy processes that gave her time to think while her body undertook the mindless physical work. 

Her thoughts were thick with memories, moments distilled like aromatic oils until they were just the essence – a resounding emotion or a few fractured words. One day the man next door took it into his head to cut the grass on the front lawn and the smell of it, baking in the sun, set off a tidal wave of memories that left her aimless and distracted for the rest of the day.

It was obvious that Kay suspected something now. She and Laura knew each other too well for there to be such big secrets kept for any amount of time. Thankfully she seemed to think discretion was the way to go, leaving her mother to her secrets, drawing back from her a little to allow her the space. Whilst Laura desperately wanted to spare her daughter the pain she knew was coming, there was very little that she could do and hiding things wasn't going to make it any easier. 

Whenever she got the opportunity she would pull Kay close to her in a hug and hold her, smelling her smell, taking comfort in her familiarity, waiting for everything to change.

* * * *

"I've told him."

"Really?"

"Yup. I told him I was leaving. That I'd met someone else and we were in love and I was leaving him."

"How did he take it?"

"Do you really want to hear about him?"

"Not unless you need to tell me."

"I don't need to tell you. It's over now. I'm free. We can spend the rest of our lives together."

"And you'll never leave me?"

"I'll never leave you."

"You promise?"

"I promise." Giggling as he checked her fingers, she let him draw her close for a kiss. She was so happy. This moment, this memory, she would treasure it forever. To be loved by someone she loved so much seemed an impossible sort of happiness and she mentally traced every contour of the feeling, seeking to preserve it for always.

* * * *

"Mum! Don't go!"

There was a panicked urgency in Kay's voice which broke through all of Laura's carefully maintained insensibility.

"Why? What is it?"

"It's Dad, something's wrong, he's getting worse. Please, come back and just wait."

"OK. Alright darling, I won't go. Why don't you put the kettle on and I'll go and see to him, OK?"

Kay nodded, her eyes swimming with tears. "Do you want some time alone with him?"

"Just a few moments, if that's OK. Wait a few moments. I love you."

"I love you too, Mum."

Hurrying into the sitting room at the back of the house Laura quaked at the thought that Kay might be right. She had no idea what to do or say – nothing could prepare you for something like this.

"Are you OK?" OK seemed like such a stupid word to use, but there were a lot of words that seemed stupid in this sort of situation. 'Comfortable' was another one, 'dignified' – words that just didn't apply, but were the best you could find.

He beckoned her closer, indicating the side of the bed next to him.

"Can I have some water?" Laura reached for the glass and carefully tilted it against his lips.

"Is that better?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm glad you didn't go to the shops, I wanted to ask you something. How are you?"

A laugh broke unexpectedly from Laura's mouth. "How am I?"

"Yes. Kay said that you've been distracted, away with the fairies. What's the matter?"

Looking at him thoughtfully, Laura wondered how best to respond. At such a moment, only honesty seemed good enough.

"You never made me any promises." His face, taut with pain, seemed to crumple a little as she said it. "I promised you I'd never leave, but you didn't promise me it back and I just keep thinking about it, and thinking about it, and wishing that I'd made you promise – then maybe you wouldn't be leaving me now. I love you so much Paul, I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to go, either, but I think we both know I'm not going to be around much longer. If I had made you that promise then I'd only be breaking it. I did make you one promise, I promised to look after you.  "I wish that I could have done a better job of that over the years. I wish that I had taken your advice and looked after myself better, then perhaps I might have had a chance of surviving this, but I've done my best to look after you and Kay, and you won't go without once I've left, alright my darling?"

"No. I don't want money, I want you." Laura felt her daughter's hand on her shoulder and took it in her own as she leaned forwards to kiss her husband. "You can't leave us, we love you."

"I love you too, both of you. You have no idea how much I don't want to go."

"I'll always love you, always remember you." 

He took her free hand in his own, felt for her fingers and interlocked his own through them. "Promise?"

She couldn't help herself – this old, familiar gesture to check that she wasn't crossing her fingers made her laugh and she spoke through laughter and tears together as she watched him go.

"I promise." 



Promises



Just to make this clear there is absolutely no sex among minors in this story!!!!! 

*

Rich, who's the chick?" I gave my older brother the same look I had given him before we even left the house. 

Before I could tell him, once again, that he could have left me at home, he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and looked to the guy who'd asked the question. "This is my sister Victoria. She's going to be hanging out with us, and everyone will be nice to her or else, got it?"

"I will personally make sure of that." Rory, Rich's best friend, stood on my other side. Whereas Rich was somewhat lanky and nonthreatening, Rory was rather nicely built, though still somewhat in his awkward stage at fifteen. 

The rest of the guys, five in total, were in front of us, all eyes on me. "What are we going to do with a nine year old?"

"We're going to do the same thing with my twelve year old sister that we were going to do before you all knew she was coming. We're going down to the beach." His grip about my shoulder tightened a bit and he gave me a reassuring smile. "Come on." We all walked off together, working our way down the mile of neighborhood to the "beach" at the edge of our community.

It was their soccer day. They went every Wednesday during the summer months for a bit of a two-on-two sand soccer tournament. This particular day, Rich decided not to leave me home by myself and instead take me along to hang out with him and his friends. Rich and I had the same father but different mothers. Rich was blond with blue eyes I don't know if you can be anymore all American white guy than him. I was not since my mother was a black. I continually insisted they wouldn't want me hanging around, but Rory eventually was the one who convinced me that everything would be alright. "How are we splitting up the teams? There's an odd number of us."

When we got to the beach, I sat down a bit away from them at the edge of the sand. "Odd number?" Rich questioned, looking at yet another guy in the group. "I see eight."

"Come on, man. I get you're playing nice big brother, but you can't expect one of us to play on your sister's team." Instantly, I felt silly. I shouldn't have come. It was so obvious that they did not want me there, and even more obvious that I didn't belong. They saw me as an intruder, and that's what I was.

"Like I'd let any of you get this beast of a player to yourself." Rory walked over and plopped himself next to me. "She's on my team."

"You don't have to, Rory." I whispered to him, appreciating him trying to come to my rescue, but still feeling embarrassed and out of place. "I don't mind sitting here."

He slung an arm around my shoulder, giving me a playful smile. "You're on my team, punk, whether you like it or not." He stood up and offered me his hand, pulling me toward him. "Now get up, and let's play!" Rory didn't baby me. He didn't jump in front of me to get the ball or make me feel bad if I messed up. In fact, he never stopped smiling. I got a high five every time we scored a point (even if I didn't contribute) and a huge, crushing bear hug after the games we won. Rich made sure I was welcome among his friends, but Rory made sure I felt welcomed.

When all of the rounds were done everyone was sweaty and good natured. Rory and I finished in third place, a fact that both upset and comforted some of the other guys: this team with the little girl had beaten them, but this little girl wasn't entirely useless. To celebrate the end of the 'tournament' for this week, the boys stripped down to their boxers and jumped into the lake. 

"Sorry, Vikki." My brother gave me a sympathetic look as he tossed his clothes away from the water. "I forgot to tell you to bring something to swim in, and I definitely don't want you out in your underwear. If you want to jump in in your clothes, that's fine, but you'll be cold walking home. You want me to hang out with you in the shallow parts?" 

The tone was genuine, but his expression wasn't as much so. He was willing to stay with me, and he would do it without complaint, but hoping I wouldn't ask him to. I wasn't the best swimmer, and hanging out with me would mean only being in water that went up to my chest. "Don't worry, Rich. I don't want to swim anyway. Go. " He smiled, somewhat relieved, and gave me a quick hug before running out to join his friends.

I stood watching for a moment, again feeling left out but knowing it was better this way. The boys were all climbing onto a wooden dock in the middle of the lake and jumping off (or pushing each other off) into the water. They dunked and splashed each other while their laughs echoed off the water and nearby trees.

I was just about to sit when hands clasped down on my shoulders. They were warm and slightly rough, familiar. "Now, Vik, you can do this the easy way or the hard way. Easy way you walk in, hard way I throw you." 

Looking back at Rory, there was no mistaking the bit of mischief behind his grin. His nose was just slightly too big for the face that almost had a chiseled jaw, but was still overtaken with remnants of baby fat. Even with the mischief, he looked utterly harmless. "I can't go in unless someone stays by me, and I can't swim that well so I'd need to stay more in the shallow end. It's probably better if I just don't go in today."

The grin grew a bit wider. "Wrong answer, punk." In one motion, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder. There was no strain or hesitation from him, and no pain for me. He wrapped his arms around my legs, keeping me in place while all the blood began to run to my head. He was strong and starting to grow solid in all the right areas of his body. He held me as if I were nothing.

"Ah! Rory! Put me down. Down! " I was laughing while I began to wiggle against his arms, trying to throw them off. 

"Down you say?" Until that moment, I hadn't paid much attention to the fact that he was walking. Looking straight ahead (which was toward the ground in my position), I watched his feet cross the line of the water. "I suppose I could put you down."

The meaning was obvious. "No! Rory, no." The arguing and pleading approach was not working in the slightest, so I tried another. "If you throw me in you'll have to stay by me."

He stopped moving and his shoulders stiffened just a bit, as if he were thinking intently. Just as I was about to silently praise myself for my successful tactic. "Totally worth it." I was tossed down into the cool, clear water. Initially surprised, I resurfaced, being in a place where the water was only about four feet deep, and gave Rory a shocked look. He, however, was laughing heartily.

"Now it's war." I jumped toward him, knowing full well I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything if he didn't want me to, and pulled him down into the water. For the rest of the day, he stayed by me as he joked, splashed and dunked. A couple of times, Rich came over and joined us, but he wouldn't stay terribly long before going back to the deep waters. Regardless, Rory stayed the entire time. 

During the walk home, I was freezing but sufficiently happy.

***

"Hey, kid. What's up?" Three and a half years after the first soccer game, the guys had gotten used to my presence, and though they still complained about it from time to time, they greatly accepted it. I was a freshman, and freshly fifteen, while they were all almost done with their senior year. 

"Hey, Mike." I ducked away from his hand as he tousled my hair, almost sending me off the armrest I was sitting on. It was early spring, which meant no swimming just yet and a lot more video games. The rest of the boys all walked in behind Mike carrying an assortment of soda, snacks and X-Box 360s games as they headed down into the basement of mine and Rich's house, where all the gaming systems were.

"Let's go, Vik. I need an alien killing partner, and you have got one wicked head-shot." It had become understood that Rory and I would be on the same team for everything, no matter what. 

At first, I just watched them play. Then, Rory dragged me off the arm rest of the couch I always sat on, and where he always sat next to me, until I was practically squished from all the bodies in the room. He handed me a controller and told me to play. I was terrible, and still wasn't that great, but eventually managed the greatest head shot percentage in any game that required the shooting of aliens. After that, the boys were a bit less eager to complain. 

Rory and I had become much closer over the years. He acted as a surrogate brother whenever Rich couldn't be there, and always showed up whenever I asked, especially when it involved my parents fighting, and did they know how to fight. My dad was a real asshole at times. Those nights, he would sneak me out of my room and take me to the park or down to the beach while I tried not to cry, though he always assured me it was okay to. The times when I finally did break down and cry, he would wrap me in his arms. I had long since learned that Rory's arms were the most comfortable place in the world. Sometimes, I even fell asleep like that, and he would let me, without complaint. Even when I didn't cry, we would sit up talking about anything, and just like with soccer, he didn't treat me like a little kid. We had conversations worth having. No matter what, at the end of the night, I got a hug, the magical kind that made everything else disappears, and I never wanted to let go. 

I sat next to Rory on the couch in the basement, as always, and waited for the boys to finish setting up the game so we could all play. "Ready? You know I'm gonna kick your ass right?" I tried giving him a challenging smile.

"You talk as if we're not on the same team, dork." Attacking my head with both hands, he messed up my hair significantly. "Try talking trash to someone who won't be saving your butt from special infected every other second." His voice was lighthearted and joking, and I could do nothing but laugh and try to push his hands away. 

"You know how long it took me to get my hair to cooperate?"

Just then, the other boys finished setting everything up, and two of them came to join us on the couch made for three. The side of Rory's body was pressed up against mine, warm and firm. Not having to reach far, he patted my leg thoughtfully, glancing down and giving me another smile. Why did I suddenly feel nervous?

I didn't get much time to think about it as the game started, but for the rest of the time, I was hyper aware of how close Rory was and how much of him was touching me. Every time he spoke or laughed, I felt the vibrations he sent through the couch or straight into me. At random times, he would nudge me or tease me in a very brother-like fashion, always making me laugh or roll my eyes.

Almost two hours later, the doorbell rang.

"Oh, that's the pizza. I'll get that." Rich started to stand as he put his player on auto.

"You stay, I'll get it. I'm dead anyway." Rory offered, just as a zombie made its final blow. "Want to give me a hand, Vik?"

I glanced at my health meter on the screen, still half full. "I'm not dead yet."

He grabbed Tim's controller out of his hand and turned the character to shoot at me. Unable to react, he killed me quickly before dumping the controller back into Tim's hands. "Dude, you totally just killed my friendly fire score."

"Dude, you totally just killed me!"

"Now you can help me with the pizza." He winked with a mischievous grin, and I found it hard to stay mad at him. Standing, he offered me his hand and pulled me to my feet. Together we went up the stairs. While he retrieved the ridiculously large stack of pizzas from the delivery man, I searched the kitchen cabinets for enough plates and napkins (not that those would get used) for everyone. 

"I can't believe you actually killed me like that." I accused with a playful tone in my voice. 

"You were being stubborn, I had no other choice." My back was to him as we both laughed, knowing how ridiculous his excuse was. 

Struggling a bit with the paper plates I grabbed, I tried pulling them apart to put each one in its own holder. "Hey, Vikki?" Until he spoke, I didn't notice that he had moved closer to me. When I turned to look at him, he was barely a foot away. "There's something I want to ask you." Placing his hand on the counter behind me, he was now only inches away. I only came up to his chest, and had to look upward to see him. 

"Huh?" There was a bit of a nervous quiver in my voice, though I hoped frantically that he didn't notice. "What is it?"

"If I were more creative, I would find a better way to ask you this, but I'm not. So will you go to prom with me?"

I stared at him, blankly, more confused than I could ever remember being. "Me?" Was all I could muster up.

One corner of his mouth turned upward, almost shyly. He was still so close to me. "Of course you. I'd rather go with you than ask some random girl I barely know. Prom should be memorable, right? Twenty years from now, I want to look back at prom pictures and know that I went with someone because I a least like, not just because I wanted a date."

This barely cleared up the confusion. "Wouldn't you at least want to go with someone who looks good in a dress?"

"Have you ever worn a dress?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Then maybe you'll look good. You never know." With him so close, I was far behind the capacity to refuse. *** I stood looking at myself in the full length mirror behind the bathroom door. My dress was almost yellow kind of gold, but a duller and darker than what is normally attributed to the color. It hung rather fitted along my chest and stomach and strapless. At the knee it started to flair out away from my body a bit. My hair was left straight down, falling near the middle of my back. I wore very little make up and only managed four inch heels the same color as my dress. I put a pair of ballet slippers in my clutch just in case.

If I were being honest with myself, I would say that I actually didn't look as ridiculous as I had first thought I would. In fact, I looked pretty. Older, a bit more mature. 

"Vikki?" My brother tapped lightly on the door before pushing it open. "I need to go pick up Ange... wow." His head came around the door and he saw me. Slowly, his eyes traveled from my shoes to my barely made-up face. "Wow, Vikki. You look amazing. That dress is perfect for you. Whoever would have through my baby sister not only would be wearing a dress, but would actually look this good in one." Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around me. 

"You're beautiful, Vik. I have to go pick up Angela, but we'll be doing pictures here, so I'll be back soon. Rory should be on his way over, so listen for the door. Love you." Giving me a playful pat on the head, he left and closed the door behind him. 

I wandered back into my room and started looking at all the old pictures that were framed on my walls. Rory and Rich had been friends for as long as I could remember. Most of the pictures had me standing in between them, both of their arms around me and all of our smiles wide and genuine. 

"Vikki?" I heard my name from the first floor of the house. Rory had long surpassed the point of letting himself in. "Vik?"

"Just one second!" Suddenly, I felt nervous. Rory had seen me a million times before, in a random assortment of attire, but I could not remember ever having cared about his opinion on the matter before. This was different. Part of prom was dressing up, showing off your personality with your dress and your hair and your makeup. I wanted the way I looked to say something about me. I wanted 'simply beautiful'. With a calming deep breath, I stepped out of my room and began down the stairs.

He was not immediately by the door, but stood a little deeper in the living room, his back to me as he looked at the pictures framed on the wall. "Rory?" Why was my voice so close to shaking?

Slowly, he turned around, a polite smile on his face. Our eyes met then he scanned downward, his smile fading gently as he did, though to an expression far from disappointment. For too long, I stood on the last step of the staircase, watching him look at me. For someone I usually only saw in torn up jeans and a t-shirt, a suit was perfect on him. Everything was black -- jacket, vest, shirt, pants -- except the yellow tie I had picked out for him, one that matched the color of my dress perfectly. I was just as lost looking at him as he seemed to be looking at me. 

At the same time, we both opened our mouths to speak, and then closed them to allow the other to go first. A timid, good natured laugh followed, though we were saved by the door opening. "Time for pictures!" Rich proclaimed, ushering his date inside, being followed behind by some of his other friends, their dates, and random assorted parents.

Rory took his place behind or next to me, depending on where the parents positioned us. He placed his warm hands on my waist or my arm. He rested his chin on top of my head and his elbow on my shoulder, joking around and smiling the entire time. By the time I pinned his flower on him, I was completely at ease and my face hurt from smiling, though none of it had been forced. 

"Mother's worst nightmare. Okay, time for the garters, boys!" One of the mothers called out during the picture taking process. 

"Watch your hands, Rory." My brother threatened, teasingly as he pulled his date to another part of the room, "That's my baby sister there." The mothers laughed at the exchange, and began snapping pictures of the boys removing the garter from their date's legs.

Neither my parents nor Riley's were in attendance, meaning it wasn't truly a photo opportunity for us. "If it makes you uncomfortable, Vik, you can just hand it to me."

I put my foot up on the second step of the stairs, giving him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. "It's okay. No big deal." Slowly, I pulled the skirt of my dress upward until it rose just past my knee. Truthfully, I was more nervous than I should have been. How many times had Rory seen me in my swimsuit? How many times had he picked me up and thrown me in the lake, touched my bare skin? Why should removing my garter be a big deal?

He took a step toward me, reaching out with shaky hands until his fingers brushed my skin. Looking up, he met my eyes, and my smile widened. Our eyes stayed together as he folded his warm fingertips underneath the frilly fabric and began to move it downward, over my knee, across my calf, to my ankle and then over my shoe. The moment seemed locked in time, unreal, and I couldn't help but wonder how long we stood there.

Hours later I had finished a three course meal, all the boys had removed their jackets and many of the girls had abandoned their shoes, so glad I brought those flats. I had danced with all of Rich's friends as per their request, and I hoped that none of their dates minded as I was twirled and twisted. 

Rory would offer to dance with the abandoned date each time it happened, but only about half a song would pass by before he would ask to cut back in with his own date. "You just want to keep her all to yourself, don't you?" One of the boys accused when this happened to him.

"She is my date," he responded with a smile, before putting his hands on my waist and pulling me closer to him. 

"What is it?" I asked as my hands found their comfortable place, locked behind his neck. I saw something in his eyes that I didn't quite recognize.

"Hm?"

"You look uncomfortable or I don't know like you're stressing about something. What is it?" 

"Oh, nothing." Even if he hadn't broken eye contact with me in that moment, I would have known he was lying.

"Please tell me."

There was a minute hesitation before he gave me a weary smile. "Notice how the guys are fighting over you, tonight? They're all really eager to dance with you." I definitely hadn't thought of it as fighting, nor had I recognized any of them as having wanted to dance with me for any reason other than for the sake of fun.




Promises



"I think you're exaggerating a bit there."

His eyes were on me, the full force of their green unleashed. Yet they were still gentle and un-accusing. "I think you are underestimating how amazing you look." My heart stopped as I struggled to remember how to breathe. The sincerity of his words raised goose bumps along my spine. His whole face lightened then and fell back into the fun smile I was more accustomed to. 

Gently, he lifted a hand from my waist and twirled my hair between his fingers, looking at me thoughtfully. "You really do look incredible, tonight. You picked the perfect dress for you. Everything about you tonight is breath taking. But I think you may have just caused them to realize that you're not that little girl who used to tag along behind us anymore. You've grown up."

All at once, I was aware of how close our bodies were, of his hand on my waist and on my face and my own hands touching the skin of his neck. I found myself studying his face, no longer overtaken by baby fat, but well chiseled and defined, though some of the boyish charm remained. "I'm really glad I asked you to come. I never could have had this much fun with anyone else."

Before I could respond, Tim came up behind Rory. "Beach bonfire right after this. Rich said she could come," he nodded toward me, "but he wants to drink some, so..." Translation: Riley had to stay sober or I had to go home. 

"Its fine, you guys can drop me off beforehand."

"It's alright, I won't be drinking anyway." Our responses overlapped, and he turned his attention to me softly. "When have you ever seen me drink, Vik?"

Honestly, I never had, nor had I ever heard him talk about drinking. Rich didn't do it much, but I at least knew that he did on occasion. "I figured you just didn't when I was around. I mean, someone had to hold back if I was there."

"Well, I mean, yeah, I wouldn't think of drinking in front of you if I did drink, but it's not really my thing, so don't worry about it. Come to the beach, you know you want to."

I needed no further convincing. 

"Hey Rory?" As we were walking out of the hotel where I prom was held, the only one to speak of in our small town, I pulled on his arm to slow him down. He looked down at me, confusion across his features. "Who is that?" Rory followed my gaze across the dark parking lot to a dark skin boy who stood next to a restored classic car. The boy was looking at me, without hesitation, and it was not the first time that night I had noticed him doing so.

"Devon." Rory's voice was flat as he answered my question, showing an obvious dislike that was uncharacteristic of him. "He's a junior. Asshole, trouble maker, always has been."

"He's been staring all night?"

"I don't know, but I don't like it. Let's go." The harshness eased a bit as he urged me toward his car, but I couldn't help glancing back at the dark eyes that followed me across the lot.

"WOOO! We're done, boys!" All the dates, likely to their dismay, had already been dropped off, and the rest of us lounged in our formal-wear in the sand of the beach. Again, I was the lone girl, though I did not let this bother me as I hopped around barefoot, mushing my toes into the sand. 

"We still have finals, dumbass." Rich laughed in response as he took another sip from his beer. True to his word, Rory had nothing more than water, though the liquor was flowing freely among the others. 

"Victoria. Vikki, Vikki, Vikki." Tim slung his arm around my shoulder and leaned down close to me. "Have I told you yet how utterly stunning you look tonight?" His fingers toyed with my hair, though in a playful rather than creepy way. The words were all too familiarly slurred.

"I think you've had a few too many, Tim."

"No seriously. You are... wow... you're not twelve years old anymore."

"Hey, man, don't monopolize the only girl here. Selfish much." Another of Rich's friends sauntered over putting an arm around my shoulder from the other direction. "She needs to know that she has options."

"In case you two have forgotten," Rory managed to wiggle me out from between both of them with a single movement, "she is still my date. If anyone is going to monopolize her, I technically have dibs." Drunkenly rolling their eyes, they stepped away and went for more to drink.

"Thanks, Rory." Rubbing his hands up and down my arms, he smiled, telling me wordlessly that it was nothing.

"Wow, you're arms are freezing, Vik. Come over by the fire." His fingers slipped in between mine as he took my hand and led me over to the small fire (only referred to as a bonfire for the sake of tradition) in the center of the sand. The act was simple, merely grabbing my hand in order to lead me over, but all the nerves in my hand seemed to ignite at once. Not only was my hand in his, but he had intertwined his fingers with mine. Something in the action excited me.

"Come here." He sat and pulled me with him, directing my body between his legs. For a moment, I sat stiffly, not sure how to react to the intimacy of the position. 'Best friend's little sister', that was how he always referred to me. That was how he thought of me.

"I'd offer you my jacket, but I know you'd refuse."

"Then you'd just be cold." We said together, his in a mocking tone, and the harmony of our laughter relaxed me a bit. "How about a compromise?" Removing his arms from the sleeves of his coat, he wrapped them around my middle and pulled me closer. My heart stopped in my chest at his touch, gentle and warm, yet firm. "Pull it closed," he whispered against my ear, momentarily leaving me almost completely unable to translate his speech to thought.

Luckily, my hands moved by themselves and reached to wrap the front of his coat around my own body. Already I felt warmer, though I wasn't sure much of the blame for that was lying with the fire or as a direct result of his coat. Though, the heat of the fire on my face did begin to make me sleepy. Slowly, I allowed my body to relax until my full weight was against his firm body. 

"You really did look amazing tonight, Vik. You still do." The whispered words were just for me, again spoken right into my ear. He moved his knees in closer, and I was wrapped in his body even more. I couldn't remember ever having felt so comfortable before. I thought of all the nights that Rory had saved me from my miserable, arguing parents. How many nights I ended up in his arms? I thought of how safe I felt wrapped up in him. 

Even as my heart raced, my eyes grew heavier and heavier. My body was slumping further against his. One Rory's hands came up and ran through the hair that fell across my face. "You must be really tired. It's almost three in the morning."

"I'm ok." I mumbled, none too convincingly. 

"It's okay to go to sleep." I didn't want to. I wanted to stay awake and make the night last forever. I wanted to be able to remind myself that it wasn't a dream. But it was getting harder and harder to resist the pull against my eyes and the fuzzy stage my thoughts floated toward. His arms wrapped tighter. "Go to sleep, Vik. I'll hold you I promise." *** "Don't be mad, okay?"

"Vikki. No. Tell me you didn't."

"He asked me out, what was I supposed to say?"

"How about 'no' for starters?"

"Rory, I'm eighteen. Don't you think I'm old enough to go on a real date?"

"A real date, yes. With him? No. Absolutely not, and your brother would more than agree with me." We sat next to the fire in the same place on the beach. The boys once again were enjoying some drinks legally this time. Rory and I sat a bit away from them, enjoying our sobriety. They ran around, jumping in and out of the water and being unnecessarily, yet joyfully loud. 

Rory and I stayed by the fire, somewhat secluded from the rest, as was not unnatural during nights like this. We romped around and played, swimming throughout the day -- I had long since surpassed the shallow parts of the lake -- until the alcohol really started taking hold, then we would retreat and turn our energy to conversation: philosophical, shallow, meaningless, deep, ill-witted, pointed, charged it didn't matter we enjoyed them to their fullest.

It seemed, however, that the enjoyment was slowly dying as Rory's eyes turned almost harsh at my news. "I told you when you first asked about him that Devon was bad news. You really think that that's changed much in the past couple years?"

I hated the thought of Rory being upset with or disappointed in me. I hated that look in his eye. "It's just a date, Rory. One date." He sighed heavily, showing his obvious disapproval. "If he tries getting fresh, you'll be the first to know, and I will do nothing but cheer you on while you beat him up. You can even have the other boys join you and just demolish him if you want. I'll carry mace with me."

"What has Rich said about this?"

"I haven't mentioned it to him, yet. I figured if I had your approval first, it'd be a bit easier to get his. I technically don't need either." I felt guilty throwing the last bit in, and immediately regretted it, wishing I could pull the words back into my mouth. The pained expression that briefly flashed across his face only made me feel worse. 

Yes, the statement had been true, and technically would work in my favor as Rory wouldn't want me to stop telling him things, but he was not someone I wanted to manipulate. I needed him and wanted him on my side. 

"Why is this so important to you?" Somewhere during our bickering, he had moved a bit away from me, but he drew closer again as he asked his question. 

Wanting to give him a complete honest answer, I took a moment to think. "I hang out with guys all the time Rory. I'm surrounded, constantly, by you and Rich and all your friends. But I'm not one of those pretty girls," he looks as though he's about to interrupt, but I press forward before he can, "you know like from the movies or something, the one that all the guys are actually secretly in love with. I don't wear makeup, or know how to do my hair. I don't really have a lot of friends of my own."

This time, he succeeds in interrupting. "I'm your friend." 

"But you're Rich's friend first." The words come out pointed, almost as if I'm accusing him or some kind of offense, though I don't mean them to. "I don't get asked out, ever, and I don't know if it's the intimidating band of guys I'm always in the middle of or if it's just me. Regardless, Devon asked me to go out with him, and it made me really feel wanted."

He shook his head, still looking distressed and determined. "I realize prom was a while ago, Vik, but don't tell me you already forgot all of Rich's friends trying to get a shot with you."

I quickly put this thought down. "They were drunk."

"No, Vik, before that. They all wanted to dance with you. They saw how gorgeous you looked and how grown up you've become. They knew how awesome of a person you were, and still are. They definitely started to desire you then, and not in a creepy sense of course, but just truly want you." His words sunk into me, but I couldn't help wanting to brush them off as soon as they did. The thought of any of Rich's friends thinking of me in that way was ridiculous. "And it's not as ridiculous as you're currently thinking it is." The knowing and accusing look in his eye made me laugh, and I bumped my shoulder against him to show that he had managed to lighten my mood. 

He bumped back, making me laugh even more as I was thrown off balance, falling sideways into the sand. "Stop!" I sent my weight back into him, making him wobble a bit, though nothing more. Playfully, I scowled at him and tried pushing once more. 

This time, he moved himself out of the way, throwing me off balance again, leaving me to fall across his lap. With my chest against his knees and my face almost to the sand, he took advantage of the moment and dug his fingers into my ribs. "Wait! Not fair! Not fair!" This was his weapon of choice; when in doubt, tickle me. Luckily, he didn't drag it out for too long before helping me roll onto my back to get my face away from the sand.

My head now rest in his lap as I lay sideways to him. He was looking down at me, and the fire danced across his features. In the past year, he had stopped going for the clean shaven look, allowing a well groomed trace of stubble to cover his strong jaw line, meeting over his chin and above his lip. When he smiled, it was always just slightly crooked -- so slight I often wondered if anyone noticed it but me -- and he showed all of his perfect white teeth. Many times, it was still very much a boyish grin that lit up his green eyes. He wore his hair a bit shorter now, three or four inches off his head, though when he wasn't working it had a playful, tousled look. 

Since we had been swimming earlier, he simply wore his trunks and an open button down shirt, showing off the fact that his jaw was not the only thing that had become chiseled. 

Needing to look away from him, I looked past him to the sky. "The moon looks so close." 

He leaned back on his right arm, following my eyes upward. After a moment, his other hand came up and began playing with my hair, almost absentmindedly. "It's one of the things I love about being out here all the stars and the moon. So out of reach." His gaze dropped to me, and I could see the simple smile that upturned one side of his mouth. "I still don't like it, Vikki." With that, he brought the conversation back to where it started. His fingers continued to move gently through my hair as he spoke. "He's a mistake."

The look in his eyes told me how deeply he believed what he was saying to be true, and it hurt me to see that I made me feel that way. Even so, I pushed on. "If I'm making a mistake, you've got to let me make it. And I might be, I admit it, but how else will I learn, right? You and Rich, and even some of the other guys sometimes, are always there to tell me what I should do, and you guys were always there to catch me before I do something totally reckless this time won't be any different. But I've never been allowed to just completely do what I wanted. I need to at least once. But, Rory, I'll never feel brave enough to risk failing unless I know that you'll be there for me."

"Me and Rich?" He clarified, his face now extremely gentle and thoughtful, yet almost pained.

"You. I love Rich, and I know he loves me and looks out for me a lot better than most guys do their little sisters, and he listens and helps me and does anything he can for me, but not the same way you do. Rich would go to the end of the earth for me; you would sling me on your back and take me with." The words kept coming out, yet nothing truly felt enough. I couldn't explain what I meant well enough to make him understand how deeply I meant it.

I tried one more. "Rory, you understand me the way no one else in the world ever could, better than I understand myself, sometimes. That is why I need you to be ok with this. And just in case be there to help me put myself back together, even when I'm a total wreck." 

With a sigh, he lowered himself backwards against the sand, "come up here." Crawling upward, I set my head against his bare chest, still lying sideways from him. He put his arms around me. "I'm never going to like it, Vik. I trust you, but I don't trust him. Regardless, you're right. If you want to go out with him, go and I'll try to keep my negative feelings at bay as long as you promise to be honest with me about everything that does or doesn't go on."

"Of course."

"And know that..." He hesitated in that moment, as if not sure how to shape his words in the way he needed to. "Know that I will always be here for you, no matter what. I promised you that I would always be here to hold you."

Just like after prom, his words filled me with more warmth than the fire could. I wondered briefly, where I would be if it weren't for having Rory in my life. How many nights I would have spent alone in my room, my parents fighting so loudly that no music could shut it out? How many times I got myself lost and needed a ride or got ditched by Rich and had Rory step in without question. I thought about Stacy, his last serious relationship that ended just before prom. The one that I still couldn't help but feel had put me down on the list of reasons why they should break up: the nagging girl who always stole Rory's attention by calling him crying.

"I am giving you a can of mace." His words broke into my thoughts, but they also told me that he had reached a point of acceptance. He did not approve, but he accepted, and that was what I needed. I couldn't help but smile up at him, and he smiled in return, pulling me closer. "I just don't want you giving yourself to him in a way he doesn't deserve."

"I won't. I promise." ***

"Devon, I'm not ready for this."

"Christ. It's been sixth months! How much more time are you going to need?" We were in the backseat of his car, parked near some abandoned playground I hadn't even remembered existed until he brought me there. Devon was on top of me, his body positioned between my legs and most of his weight on my chest, keeping me in place. I didn't like it back there, cramped and impersonal, but it seemed he pulled us to the backseat more and more often. 

He had his own apartment, somewhere on the far side of town, but he never seemed to want to bring me there, as if I hadn't quite earned that yet. So that backseat it was, almost every time he took me out. He'd pushed and pressured from the beginning, but I maintained that I wasn't ready, the timing wasn't right, and every other reason I could muster. He got angry, he complained, but had yet to push it past the point of no return. This night, however, he seemed even more determined than usual.

His shirt was off and his jeans undone. My own shirt was pushed up crudely, and my skirt no longer falling past my hips. The funny thing was, other than the thin, cotton, pool-side dresses I would sometimes pull on after swimming at the beach, I never would have imagined myself in a skirt. Devon liked them though, I was beginning to understand why and often asked -- or more told -- me to wear them. 

"Come on, it's no big deal. Let's just have some fun." One of his hands was poised around my neck; a way he liked to hold me, always staying in control, the other hand fondling my underwear in a crude manner that I understood it was more for his pleasure than my own. He smashed his lips hard against my own and began pulling my panties down.

I was filled with more reluctance than I knew possible. "Devon, wait"

"Victoria!" His voice was harsh as he said my name mere inches from my face. He didn't stop moving my panties off of me. "I'm not going to wait any longer. We've been going out for six months. Nobody waits that long. I thought you loved me." 

I had never said those words to him in my life. "I do." I couldn't even say them, and even agreeing to it, I wasn't sure that I meant it. I wasn't even sure what the word 'love' meant. My parents made sure of that.

"Then prove it." Looking back, I would realize that he didn't even attempt to make his voice kind or soothing. Every word held the edge of demanding.

I felt him move as he pushed his jeans and boxers down to his ankles, keeping himself between my legs as if afraid I would snap them shut at the first available opportunity. "Condom." Was all I could manage to say, accepting that he wouldn't take 'no' any longer? An accomplished grin played across his mouth as he pulled the condom out of the pocket of his jeans and rolled it on. 

"Don't worry. It'll be great." His words did nothing to reassure me. Pushing at his chest I told him to sit up. "What?"

"Sit up. I told you I'm not ready yet but I can at least give you a blow job. You just have to tell me how." Without further warning, he grabbed the back of my neck bitching about never getting a blow job with a condom on. He kissed me hard and began to lower my head into his lap. 




Promises



"There's only one rule. Don't let me feel your teeth." Nervously, I put my hand around the base and licked around the head. I couldn't believe I was actually about to do this. I closed my eyes willing myself not to cry it wasn't really working. His grip around my neck tightened a bit as he began thrusting in and out, groaning slightly to himself. "Just enjoy it, stop crying about it. It's better for me if you get into it." 

It was better for me if I thought of myself somewhere else, but it seemed like his temper was rising, and I wanted to keep it at bay. "Oh yeah, God you're a good little slut aren't you?" It was his favorite pet name for me. Slut. "You like that?" He started thrusting harder, causing pain to the back of my throat making me gag and my eyes water. 

The answer was no. I didn't enjoy it one bit. "Yes," I managed, knowing it was the answer he wanted to hear. 

"Yes what? What do you like?"

"I like it when you fuck my face like a slut." My mind flashed to Rory, our nights on the beach, his constant speeches about how much he hates Devon. He would have choked me if he heard those words come out of my mouth. Devon just pushed harder, grabbing my hair and rubbing my face. 

I tried to enjoy it, moving my hand to touch myself, but nothing tricked me into thinking this was ok.

Finally, I couldn't take the pain and willed myself to think of something else, only remaining aware of him enough to respond as I thought he wanted.

As my imagination replayed everything I had ever thought it would be, Rory's face flashed in front of my eyes. Too quickly, I shook myself to rid of it. Before I knew it, Devon's hand slid further up my neck, just below my jaw. "Fuck, you're such a slut. So good." As if out of frustration, he thrust even harder, keeping me pinned down by my neck. His labored breath rang against the silent car with every movement. I completely sent my mind away.

Finally, "uh... uh... I'm wish I was filling your mouth or cumming all over your face. Mmm." I was suddenly very glad that he hadn't argued about the condom. When all was done, he collapsed back on the seat. "Next time," he growled, "show a bit more enthusiasm." Pushing me away from him, he opened the car door and stepped into the cool March air. He stood and pulled his pants back up, fastening them and lighting a cigarette from the stash he always kept in his pocket.

The one time I dared tell him that I hated it when he smoked; he smacked me, hard, and told me to mind my business. Before stepping out myself, I tried to straighten my clothes, getting everything back to the direction in which it was supposed to fall. 

The cold air was bringing me back to reality, causing me to reach into the front seat to look at my cell. It was almost midnight, and I needed to get home. "Don't worry, little miss goodie-fucking-two-shoes, we're done so I'll take you home." Not even half done with it, he flicked his cigarette to the ground. "Fix your hair. You look like a cheap whore."

Releasing myself from the backseat, I moved to the front. Frustrated with myself, I thought about how he was not always like this. He could be demanding and was known to voice a very loud and firm opinion about what I did, when and with whom, but there were plenty of days when he brought me around his friends, clinging on to me as if he were scared one of them might steal me away. 

"This is Victoria," he'd say, "You know, Rich Winters' kid sister. Real prize isn't she?" He'd tell them about me, how smart and good I was, like I really was a prize worth showing off. Those were the days I truly understood why I was with him. Those were the days he made me feel good.

Without another word to me, he clipped on his seat belt and started driving. It only took a couple minutes before we were parked in front of my house. There were a number of cars already parked in the driveway. It was spring break and all the guys had come for their much missed boys night. "I have to drop my girlfriend off here?" Devon questioned, obviously annoyed. "Drop you off at a house full of guys?"

"It's my house, Devon, and it's just rich's friends."

"I don't want you hanging out with them."

"What's the big deal?"

"What did I just say? Do you have a problem with the fact that I don't want to drop my girlfriend off in a place where every guy inside is waiting to fuck her."

"None of those guys in there..."

"Stop fucking talking back to me! I want to protect you and you're acting like a bitch." I glanced away from him, toward the house, and imagined the face of every guy that would be inside, unable to respond to Devon in the way he wanted me to. Every last one of them was harmless to the surest degree. The worst they could do, and likely would do, would be voice an opinion against Devon, which seemed to be a new favorite past time of their get togethers. I needed protection from none of them. In fact, most of them had played the role of my protector at some point in the past few years. 

That was when I noticed a figure leaning against the railing of the front porch. It was a figure too familiar to me to even hesitate before placing it. "That guy pisses me off." Devon grumbled.

In my annoyance, I was about to tell him that Rory felt the exact same way about him, but I bit my tongue, saving the arguing for another day. "Goodnight, Devon." As I started to get out of the car, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back. For a second, my throat swelled with fear. He was going to yell or hit me. The only calming thought was that it was unlikely he would hit me right in front of my house, knowing full well that Rory was standing outside watching.

Instead, he pulled me against him tightly and kissed me. It was a deep kiss, though completely lacking passion. His hand found the back of my neck and held me in place until he was done. "I'll see you later." That was it, he was dismissing me. 

Not knowing whether to be annoyed or embarrassed, I opened the door and stood. At that moment, I was suddenly overtaken by how sore my jaw felt and my throat felt raw. Unless I perked myself up perfectly straight, my face would probably give everything away. 

I moved away from the vehicle carefully, slamming the door shut as I did, running my hand through my hair in a last minute attempt to make it lie in a natural way, all the while trying to walk as normally as possible. Rory wasn't watching me walk. His eyes were glaring down at Devon with a look of pure hate I hadn't known could exist. Then his gaze turned to me and softened immediately. "What's wrong?"

The question only made me feel more panicked, and there was nothing I could do to calm my expression. "Nothing, what why?"

"You just look..."

"Hey, dickhead!" Devon was leaning over the passenger seat of his car, yelling out the window toward us. From the corner of my eye, I saw Rory's hand tense into a fist. "You might want to be careful with that one. I worked her face real hard." 

A glance at my now shocked face was all Rory needed to understand what Devon was saying. "You mother fucker" In his anger, he started to move off of the porch, but Devon immediately slammed his foot to the accelerator to drive off, and my body was in the way of the stairs. 

Every ounce of will power I had went into keeping my breath steady and not letting me cry. "Vikki?" His voice was pained in a way I had never heard it before. I dropped my head, unable to bring myself to look at him. As he stepped toward me, I remembered the image of his face flashing before my eyes and didn't want him to touch me. 

"Vikki." More firm this time, though still shaking. He put effort forth in keeping it calm. I raised my head to him. "Tell me you didn't." A hollow feeling rose in my chest, and I knew I had disappointed him more than I ever knew I could. 

We stood there, looking at each other, and I wouldn't allow myself to turn away from his eye again. That was my punishment. I made myself look straight into his eyes and see the hurt and betrayal that lie behind them, knowing I put it there. "That son of a bitch." The anger still hadn't left him, not completely. His gaze moved to the road, looking after the vehicle which had long since left our sight. "Did he force you?" There was no mistaking the strain in his voice. The wrong answer would make him snap.

"No." I answered, and just like telling Devon I loved him, I wasn't sure if it was true. I told myself it was true, though. It was my idea, so it couldn't have been forced. That was my logic. The word also seemed to put Rory at ease, though only slightly. He started to speak, but I cut him off, feeling too close to tears to let him. "Please, Rory. Whatever you want to say, just don't." My voice was shaking with my inability to keep my breath steady. "Not right now."

They were there, tears, perch within my eyes, waiting to escape. "Why do you look so sad shouldn't you be ha...?" The end of his sentence, somewhat harsh and painful, was left unsaid, and I was grateful for it.

"It wasn't supposed to be like that." My voice broke, and the pain on Rory's face was even worse when he heard it, but I steadied myself. "I wasn't ready. So I thought that would be an ok substitution."

All at once, his anger was gone from his features and only concern remained. He opened his arms to me. "Come here."

"I can't." The tears were falling now, one by one, leaving a searing path down my cheek. Rory looked even more hurt; his arms and face both falling in pained surprise. He took a step back, as if I'd just slapped him. "I can't because you're angry and disappointed, even if you won't admit it, and I don't deserve your comfort. And as soon as you touch me I'm going to just start crying, and I don't know if I'll be able to stop." With a single movement, he grabbed me and pulled me to him, wrapping me completely in his arms.

My hands came up to cover my face, but fell quickly, hanging limp at my sides, while I buried myself in his shirt. He was warm and smelled faintly of Old Spice, my favorite smell in the world. The tears would no longer be held back. I cried, heavily, and he held me, running soothing fingers through my hair and never once moving in a way that signified he wanted to let go.

Slowly, my crying stopped, and I began to lift my head. "Sorry." I muttered, running a finger over the extremely wet patch I left on his shirt.

Looking down, he chuckled, and the shake of his body relaxed me even more. "No worries, Vik. I'll just make you do my laundry." I gave my own laugh at his retort, knowing he didn't mean it. "Come here. Let's sit down for a second, let your eyes clear up. Wouldn't want Rich or any of the other guys to see you like this." He led me over to the bench swing in the corner of the porch, sitting and pulling me down next to him. There was an Afghan folded up and draped over the back, which he pulled down to cover me.

The simple contrast between the caring way in which Rory handled me and the harsh demanding way Devon would was enough to make me relax myself against Rory's body. Again, he pulled his arms around me, holding the blanket in place. Resting his cheek against my hair, he sighed audibly, but it was a calm sigh. One that said things were finally under control, and he was relieved. "The boys are going to be really excited to see you."

There was music playing inside. The sound of people talking and laughing as well as the booms and bangs of gunfire from the TV. Again, I imagined every face that would be there, all gathered around an array of TV screens: drinking, eating greasy food, and yelling playful profanities at each other, X-Box controllers in hand. This brought a question to mind which I hadn't even considered. "Rory?"

"Hm?" I felt the vibration through my hair, and was momentarily struck dumb by how much I had missed his closeness.

Still, I asked the question I felt I had already formed an answer to. "How come you're not inside with everyone else?"

His body constricted, slightly, and he almost pulled away but managed to stay close. I could sense his hesitancy and decided to ask the question more specifically. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Was I?"

"Is that why you were out here, by yourself, because you were waiting for me?" I looked up to see his expression, hoping that I hadn't offended him in any way. He was looking off, though the glazed look in his eye told me he wasn't seeing anything in particular.

Then, the focus came back and he was looking at me. "Well, you do have a midnight curfew, and Rich's a bit too far past wasted to yell at you for coming home late, so I just thought... you know..." I realized the unfocused look was a bit more, as his voice moved in a small quiver.

"Why do you look so sad?" I echoed his words from just a few minutes earlier.

He drew in a deep breath before allowing his eyes to meet mine, a forced smile raising one corner of his lips. "I was worried about you, Vik. I've been worried about you. I was standing out here trying to keep my thoughts from going out of control of all these different ways that Devon could hurt you, and I got this image in my head of you coming home crying and it just wouldn't go away.

"That led to me thinking about all the ways that I could kick Devon's ass, which, admittedly, was a bit therapeutic." I let myself chuckle at his words. "I was finally talking myself down and then the way he grabbed you and kissed you, what he said, that look in your eyes when you came up the stairs. He hurt you tonight, Vikki, whether you acknowledge it or not. He hurt you, and I don't know if this is the first time that he has or not because I feel like I'm so close to having lost you. 

"I've heard you guys fight about me; I've heard him tell you not to talk to me. And I know you've told him that you won't give me up, which is great. I'm so happy for that but you haven't told me that's he's said those things to you. I can't remember the last time before him that you didn't tell me something. So, I don't know. I don't know if he's hurting you, and I've never felt so helpless in my life." His voice was shaking, raising that hollow feeling to my chest once again as I saw how close he was to tears. "You mean too much to me and I always promised myself that I would take care of you. I can't do that if I lose you."

My entire body was tingling, and I didn't know whether to feel good or heartbroken at his words. How could I tell him that he would never lose me when I knew that I hadn't spent even half of the time with him lately as I normally would have, if it weren't for Devon's nagging? Something needed to be said, something I truly meant something reassuring. What could I say to Rory that really told him that I couldn't imagine being without him? More than that. I needed him.

"You know what some of my favorite memories have been over the years? Sitting with you on the beach or going out to the park and talking or seeing your number show up on my cell phone and thinking that I'm someone who is important enough for you to call." He rubbed my arm thoughtfully, obviously appreciating that I found something to say, but I needed to get more out. "I like Devon, and I know that if there's a single thing you hate about me, that's it, but I don't know what I would do without you, so don't think that he could ever pull me away from you completely."

He nodded, not entirely happy, but content with my words. With a sigh, he pulled me against him again. "Mm, another thing to add to my list of favorites, Old Spice."

Rory laughed. It seems in life it takes the most ridiculous statement to make everything seem okay again, and Old Spice was the statement of choice for this instance. His whole body shook until he was able to calm himself down and regain composure. "Funny, I'm a fan of Old Spice myself."

Riley rolled his eyes at me, but stood nonetheless and pulled the blanket from my shoulders. "You're right. Giving me his hand, he pulled me to my feet, "let's get you inside so the other boys can have their fill of you, too." Though he opened his hand as if to release mine, I kept my fingers curved around his. Once he felt this, he tightened his grip, too. 

Just as he reached the door, I realized what else it was I needed to say. "Rory." 

"I know. Don't tell Rich what happened."

"Rory." I gave his hang a small tug, wanting him to turn and fully look at me. The words were almost lost in my throat, but I couldn't let them. Focusing on the feeling of our hands together, and the perfect green looking down at me, I let the words come. "I love you." I wasn't sure how I meant it, but there was not a doubt in my mind that I did. 

The corners of his lips twitched, as if his reflex was to smile, but he suppressed it. I didn't want to be the first to turn away, to suggest that we go in, still content just standing there with him. His eyes never left mine, a hint of confusion in them, until he gave a crooked smile. Without letting go of my hand, he stepped forward, looking straight down at me, and pressed his lips against my forehead, cupping his free hand behind my head. "I love you, too, Vik." Every inch of his face was smiling, gently and purely. *** I walked down to the living room from upstairs, spotting Rory sitting on the couch, a baseball game play on the TV. Six months had passed since that night on the porch. Summer vacation had ended and school was starting up again, which for me meant college. Quite a bit had changed since spring break; seeing Rory was an immediate reminder of that.

Though the boys had spent all summer at home, I could count the number of times I had seen them on one hand. To everyone's disliking, I was still with Devon, in a relationship that became more and more based on fighting as time went on. I still refused to sleep with him so he found other degrading things for me to do and I know he was cheating on me. It also grew to be based on solitude as well. No other guy was allowed to look at me, let alone talk to me. This especially included Rich's friends, but often included Devon's own friends as well.

Rory was a constant source of my arguments with Devon. While I didn't see or talk to him nearly as much as I would have liked, I outright refused to stop completely. Still, Devon did what he could: checked my phone, kept me out, and followed me when I wasn't with him. He yelled and belittled. He hit. I worked hard to make sure Rory never found out that he did.

Devon seemed to be content with all the arguing and fighting since it was a good excuse to other girls. He said I wasn't allowed to be upset unless I willing to give him what he needed. For me, I had found that no sex with him was the good kind. He always like to have as much control as possible, and was generally more concerned with his own pleasure than mine. 

Most of the time that we fought; it was over something stupid I had done. I forgot to call him, it took me too long to get ready, I wasn't dressed sexy enough, I was dressed too sexy; I disagreed with him on something. If any of his friends even thought to flirt with me, even jokingly, he would get a fist in the face and I would get called a slut. Those were the nights he really seemed to get the most out of fucking with me, the nights when he was calling me a slut and saying he was going to treat me like one. 

Even while it was happening, I knew it was wrong. I knew it was something I needed to get away from completely, but I didn't. The truth, as I began to understand it, was that I was afraid. Not of Devon, of course, because I had a band of guys waiting for the right chance to beat him up standing behind me. I was afraid of refilling the distance he ripped between me and Rory.

As I hovered on the final step, staring at the back of Rory's head, I thought about having told him I loved him, and hearing him say it back. As much as I didn't understand how I meant the words, I understood his intention even less. For almost a week, the place where his lips touched my forehead burned, a calm, light, glowing burn, not unlike the way a sip of hot chocolate feels in your chest. Things in no way became awkward between us after that, as if we had done nothing more than confirm what the other had already known. It would be impossible, though, to deny that his words left me feeling relieved. 




Promises



That relief and that warmth scared me, leaving me to wonder if I meant 'love' in the deepest, purest sense. Was I in love with Rory? Was I in love with the boy who swam with me in the shallow end of the lake, who played on my team for everything from beach soccer to Halo? The boy who saved me from my parents fights and picked me up when I got lost? I thought of prom, how good everyone said we looked together and how comfortable I felt on the dance floor with him. All those nights by the fire suddenly had so much more significance in my memory than they had to me when they happened. The answer I had come to in the weeks after that kiss on the forehead was yes, I was in love with Rory. 

The answer I had also come to was no, I couldn't be in love with Rory. The number of times he called me "punk" or "kid" or introduced me as his surrogate little sister ensured that. Surely, to him, I was still that twelve year old girl he threw in the lake fully clothed. Being with Devon ensured that I kept some distance from Rory, and that distance kept me sane, and kept me from falling any deeper than I already had. I couldn't risk Rory breaking my heart and changing everything.

Rich had already left for work, and let Rory come over to watch the previous night's game which he had recorded on our TV. We were the only ones in the house, and though I knew Devon was on his way to pick me up, and getting caught would be a continuation of the endless argument, I needed to take advantage of the few minutes I had to talk to the boy on my couch, the boy I couldn't be in love with. 

Moving as slowly as I could off the last step and across the back of the room, I snuck up behind him. "Whatcha watching?" His whole body shifted as he jumped in surprise, whipping his head around to look at me.

"Shit! Vikki, that's not very nice you know. You're lucky I'm nice or you'd be in trouble."

"Oh yeah, what would you do, Mr. Police Academy Graduate? Arrest me?" I held my hands out in front of me with a playful pout on my face, as if waiting to be cuffed.

"Actually, I would do something more along the lines of this," before I realized that he was reaching for me, he had leaned backwards over the back of the couch, grabbed me around the middle and flipped me forward over him. With me halfway in his lap, he started to tickle me. For as long as Rory had known me, he had no problem finding the sweet spots.

I was thrashing around in seconds, but he was strong enough to hold me down -- preventing himself from getting injured -- and keep a steady jab at my ribs and stomach. "Rory, ah! No not again with the tickling!" My laughter was uncontrollable. It bounced off the walls of the empty house and traveled through the open windows on either side of the front door. Shrieks of obvious amusement went with it. Desperately, I tried to push his hands away. "Riley! Stop," more laughter, "this is not fair!" I tried to tickle him back, but it was useless. His body was far too solid for such things. "Okay, okay! I suck, I'm sorry. I'll never never never never never ever ever sneak up on you again."

"Promise?" He spoke through gritted teeth, not allowing his hands to slow.

"Yes. Ah! Yes, yes I promise. I promise!" With a shrug, he let me go. I collapsed across him on the couch, trying to catch my breath while he laughed at me solidly. I gave him a playful scowl and stuck out my tongue. 

Returning the gesture, Rory made no move to get me off of him. It had been a while since we had been so close in contact, but it was nothing strange for either of us. He was comfortable; I was euphoric. "So, what are you up to tonight?"

There was a slight hesitation before I answered. "I'm hanging out with..."

"Got it." Even the name was an annoyance to him. "Have I told you yet this week how much I don't like that guy?" I shook my head. It'd been almost two weeks since he'd last said this. "Well, in that case, you deserve so much better than that creep, Vik. I don't know how you've tolerated him for this long, to be honest. He and his friends are constantly getting brought into the police station for every possible stupid thing out there. Not to mention the way that he treats you."

"Rory, please."

His expression softened, and he offered me his hand, pulling me up to a seated position; I was sitting in his lap. He wrapped his hands around my waist, linking them at my side, to help keep me up at my weird angle. My heart jumped. "Okay. I know you don't like it when I talk about him like that, but I told you before that I don't like you dating him, and I never will." His green eyes were looking straight into mine, making my stomach flip. "I don't want you getting hurt."

I jabbed him in the ribs, "So far today, you're the only one who's brought me any harm." My expression was playful.

"Hey, don't give me that, chick, you started it."

"It's not my fault a grown man, a police officer, is so easily spooked. I just wanted to say 'hi'." It was easy to see I was mocking him, teasing him, feigning absolute innocence. 

Rory chuckled, giving me a shake. "Who are you calling a 'grown man'? Are you kidding? How much have I honestly changed since I was in high school?"

In terms of physical stature, he had changed a lot. Rory looked like a man, a well built, desirable man with all the sex appeal any guy could hope for. "Oh, and what, I'm still that twelve year old girl who used to follow behind you guys all the time?"

"No," he answered quickly, a corner of his lip raising the smallest degree. "You're definitely not twelve years old anymore."

Before I could let my brain give meaning to that statement that it didn't have, I sent it in a different direction. "You're right, twelve year old me would have been able to this," without further warning, I wrapped my arms around him and started grabbing at a spot on his lower back, just above the line of his jeans. I t was the single ticklish spot on his body, one that, I was almost positive, no one knew about but me. 

His body bucked as he mixed a surprised yell with a laugh, almost throwing me off of him. Still, I kept myself attached and continued my attack while I still could. Too soon, he began to retaliate, and I was losing ground. 

Ready to admit defeat, I stopped tickling him and started to push myself away. "Oh no you don't. You don't get to run away after that cheap shot." Ensuring that this was true, he pulled me close and wrapped his arms all the way around my body, tickling my ribs on the opposite side. There was nowhere to go, and he wasn't about to let me move. Our bodies were pressed as closed together as they could be, with me almost straddling him. Had I been able to breath, I may have been overcome by the sensation.  

Still not giving up, he flipped him around and dropped us down onto the couch, turning so that we were lying with me between him and the backrest. Movement instantly became impossible, and it was all I could do to laugh and shriek pleading words at him louder than before.

"Get your fucking hands off of her." Dean was only a few feet away, looking at me in disgust. The new rush of air told me the front door stood open behind him. "Victoria, let's go." Rory stopped tickling me immediately and looked up with a similar expression of disgust. 

I pushed myself away from him quickly and stood to move over toward my boyfriend, self-consciously straightening my hair. My attempt to kiss him on the cheek was interrupted when he dodged away from me. "I don't want any sloppy seconds."

"Devon, come on, we were just playing."

"Just shut up, Victoria, and get in the fucking car."

Rory was getting to his feet, looking more displeased. "Yo, you better watch how you talk to her."

"Rory." I wanted to avoid any confrontation between the two as best as possible, my heart was rising to my throat from the looks of pure hatred they both gave. "Don't worry about it, okay? Let's go, Devon." 

I tried leading him out the door, but he resisted, dodging away from my hand as if it were something foul. "Don't touch me, you slut."

"Devon, you think I'm playing?"

"Riley, please." I tried again, but it was useless.

Devon pushed me out of the way, keeping himself between me and Rory. "You got something to say to me?"

Though Rory normally stood up straight, he somehow managed to raise himself in such a way that he grew even taller. Something dark seemed to gleam in his eye as Devon moved me, and he stepped forward. "Don't talk to her like that and you better never put your fucking hands on her crazy again."

"I'll touch her whenever I damn well please. Don't get in my face just because you're jealous that you don't get to fuck her."

"Neither do you from what I hear."

Before I understood what was happening, Devon grabbed me and pulled me against him, pinning my arms down. My heart raced in my chest, things moving too quickly to make sense. "I guess there isn't much to be jealous of, anyway."

"Get off her!" His voice was pure venom, but he stopped moving forward.

Devon's hand dropped to the base of my skirt. "I mean, she's pretty, but other than that, look at her." He was lifting my skirt up, his hand sliding roughly along my bare skin. "Who would want her?"

Rory started forward, but caught himself, not yet blind enough in his hatred to risk getting that close with me in the middle. "Let her go now!" 

"Fuck you, Rory." Devon's voice was terrifyingly calm. "You're going to tell me what I should do with my girlfriend. I don't think so."

"Only a complete pussy would use a girl as a shield. Let her go and fight me like the man you think you are." The second Devon threw me to the floor; Rory had him by the throat, slamming him into the wall next to the door. "I'm going to fucking kill you, you worthless piece of shit." The words came out as little more than a growl, but were not lacking in ferocity. 

"Rory, stop." I stood quickly and latched myself onto his free arm. The look in his eye was terrifying, and I wasn't sure how far he was going to go. "Please."

Breathing heavily, eyes wild, Rory looked down at me, "Give me one good reason not to kill him, Vik."

"Because you're better than that." I reasoned as best I could, fighting my own desire to see exactly what Rory was hoping to do to Devon. But I know, deep down, once they start hitting it would be hard for either of them to stop. "You guys don't need to fight, okay? I'm fine. Everything's fine." He wasn't convinced. "I'm asking you to please not do this." Hesitantly, Rory released his grip and began to step away. 

Too quickly, Devon's arms were around me again, pinning me to him around the middle, but purposely facing me towards Rory. "I knew you'd be on my side, baby." His lips scratched behind my ear.

I pushed against him, annoyed more than afraid. "Devon, stop."

"I think it's time to go, Victoria." He started walking us towards the door. "As much as I'd love to stay and play with Rory a little more, I have a date with my girlfriend."

"She's not going with you!" We were halfway out the door, Rory matching our steps inch for inch. 

Finally raising the edge of fear in me, Devon chuckled, a deep short chuckle that said he knew exactly how much trouble he was causing, and only planned to cause more. It said he was in control, and he knew it. "I think she is, and I think, if you know what's good for her, you'll wait here like a good little dog for me to decide when it's time for her to come home." The sidewalk was underneath us now, his car getting closer and closer. 

Rory hesitated, taking in Devon's words and conflicted on how to react; his face said he was pained and sorry. It was exactly what Devon wanted. "I'll be okay, Rory." I wanted desperately to reassure him. "Don't worry. I'm just going to go with him for now, and then I'll be back. I'll be fine."

"Shut up!" Devon shook me, making Rory take a quick step forward, but only one. "You know what you're problem is? Your problem is that she's always just out of reach, and you can't save someone you just can't get to." The driver's side door was open and he pushed me inside, keeping a hold on my wrist. "If you weren't so worried about hurting her, you might have actually helped her." He shoved me to the side and sat down, slamming the door. 

Just as he turned the key, Rory ran for the passenger door and grabbed at the handle, not knowing the door was broken and couldn't open from the outside. "Vikki!" Dean had me pinned against him, and I there was nothing I could do to fight against his weight.

"Don't worry; I'll have her home by midnight." Departing words. He slammed his foot down on the accelerator, leaving Rory behind on the sidewalk, his hand stretched out as if he were still trying to pull open the door.

"He'll follow us."

"Don't be a fucking moron. Did you see his car at your house?" I knew the answer without having to think about it. Rory's apartment was only a little over a mile away from our house. With the weather still nice, he would have walked or biked over, but not have taken out his car. "And don't go thinking that he knows where I live. I never tell anyone that."

"You have a criminal record."

"With my mommy and daddy's address on it. That apartment isn't in my name, so don't worry, we'll have plenty of alone time." The words weren't even teasingly sarcastic. They were bitter with an underlying promise of 'alone time' being anything but good. 

Before I knew it, a retort crossed my lips. "You don't have to be such an ass hole."

Pushing me away from him, he whacked me in the back of the head. "Watch how you talk to me, you useless, bitch."

I looked to the floor of the car, trying to keep my breathing under control. "Devon, take me home."

"Stupid fucking slut."

"Devon, take me home." Despite the tears rising in my eyes, I managed to push the words out with confidence.

"No, I don't think I will. We had a date tonight and I want to keep it." Just then, my phone rang. The tone told me exactly who it was, but I could have guessed anyway. "Don't even think about answering that." From his tone, he had been able to guess too. For the absolute first time, despite all the yelling matches and fights we had had before, I was completely scared of him.

Within minutes, we pulled into the dark parking lot to the apartment that was completely off the radar of anyone who would try looking for me. Before I could grab the handle of my own door, he wrapped his hand around my arm and dragged me out the driver door. "We have lots and lots to talk about."

The second we were inside, he pulled me to his bedroom and threw me to the wall, planting himself inches away. He started yelling. Slut. Whore. Bitch. Skank. Useless. The words flew from his mouth. I had let Rory put his hands all over me. I was rolling around on the couch with him. I would have let him fuck me and gave him my cherry that I refused to give him if he hadn't showed up. I was ungrateful. Easy. Cheap. 

My heart beat rapidly, but I put forth all effort to keeping myself calm, relatively speaking. Talking back was always a mistake, but his rage showed how much more than a mistake it would actually be. Angered mixed with my fear. I held it in.

When my phone rang again, he slapped me. The third time he slammed me into the wall. Finally, he ripped my phone from my pocket and threw it to the other side of the room. "Don't." It came out before I could stop myself.

"What was that?" He slammed me against the wall. "What did you say?" He slapped me across the face. "Maybe I should remind you who your boyfriend is. What do you think about that?" Grabbing me solidly by the arm, he whipped me backwards, making me trip and fall onto his bed. He was walking toward me.

"No." Disoriented, my attempted to roll away from him only got me wrapped in the sheets. "No, Devon!" He clasped a hand over my mouth and lowered the weight of his body against mine. "Stop it!" I screamed against his palm, pounding my hands against his chest. My efforts did nothing.

Once I realized there was no way I could fight him off, I closed my eyes and willed myself away. Every few minutes, the muffled tone of my phone broke through to my thoughts making Rory's face come in to view. Why had I pushed him away? 

There was no concept of time in that room, leaving me unable to even grasp how much time had passed between the fight at my house and when I was left lying there, naked, trying desperately not to cry. Dean sat near his window, smoking a cigarette. "Get the fuck out you stupid little bitch. I wouldn't fucking rape you. Not when I have bitches throwing pussy at me. GET THE FUCK OUT!" He finally said, not even looking at me. "We're done." Just like that. I got up slowly and pulled on my clothes, feeling sore all over. He had been extraordinarily rough. I would no doubt have bruises before morning if they hadn't already begun to form.

A foul taste hung in my mouth as I realized how filthy I felt vile and disgusting. He didn't rape me but he forced me to suck him off and he had cum all over me. Finally grabbing my phone from the corner of his room, I rushed from the room, out the apartment and into the air. 

It was dark, making me not want to walk the three miles home by myself, but I also had no money and didn't want Rory or Rich to see me as I was. There was no doubt in my mind as to how I looked, and no doubt what them seeing me would bring about. Instead, I walked to a bar a few blocks over where I had been several times with the boys. If I remembered correctly, one of them even worked there, though it was unlikely he would see me. 

Walking in the door, I bumped into someone. Looking up, I saw he was a larger guy with a lot of facial hair. Even so, he didn't look too much older than my brother. "Sorry," I mumbled, keeping my head down and continuing on my way. The first thing I did was slip into the bathroom to fix myself up as best I could, splashing cold water on my face and running my fingers through my tangled hair, ripping more than untangling. Fifteen minutes later, I was satisfied and headed back out to the bar. Tim stood behind the counter. I was about to call out to him, but stopped myself, suddenly afraid of how I still looked and who Rory might have called trying to find me. 

Instead, I roamed into the crowd, trying to find a quiet place to call Rich so that he would come pick me up. Finding a relatively free spot, I flipped open my phone. Before I could even begin dialing Rich's number, I saw the message on my phone. "21 Missed Class: Rory". It was all I needed to make me realize Rich was not the one I wanted to pick me up. Despite my fear of Rory's reaction, I needed it to be him.

I cleared the message and started typing in Rory's number. Just before I hit the green call button, someone stepped closer to me. "Hey there, kitty. All on your own tonight?" It was the same guy I had knocked into on my way in. In a strange way, he had an air of familiarity about him.

"N-no." My voice was shaky, and I focused on keeping my thoughts singular and not slipping back to any of the events from the night. "My brother is around her somewhere." Before waiting for a response from him, I hit the call button and started moving away. It only rang once. 

"Hey, Vikki. Are you okay?" His voice was instantly concerned. 

I took a deep breath and hoped my words would come out clearly. "I'm fine."

"Come on, cutie, don't be like that. I think I know someone who would love to see you." His hand was on my arm pulling me back towards him.

"Let me go." I pulled away sharply and remembered my phone. "Rory?"

His voice changed to a deeper concern with an edge of anger. "Who is that? Who's there with you?"

The guy leaned toward me so that his face was very near the microphone of my cell, almost as if he were trying to speak straight into it. "Let's have some fun, baby. Put that phone away." He was grabbing at me, trying to wrap an arm around my waist. 




Promises



"What's going on?" Rory's voice rose to panic.

"Get off of me!" I pushed the guy further away as hard as I could and finally got a full look at his face. Immediately, I understood why he seemed familiar. "Oh my God." He was Devon's older brother. Back peddling, I headed straight for the closest door.

"Vikki talk to me. What is going on?" I looked behind me, relieved to see the guy didn't follow.

"I need a ride." It took all of what was left of my control to speak clearly and calmly. He was obviously getting worked up as it was. When I got to the back of the bar, I pushed through the large, steal door and went outside into an abandoned portion of the parking lot surrounded by other abandoned buildings. It was a bit bigger than an alley way, but not by much.

"Vikki, what happened? Are you okay? What's going on? Where are you?" There were too many questions, but through them I could hear that he was getting up and getting ready to leave. Through the phone, I heard the front door close and the jingle of keys.

"Dean and I were fighting." The words stuck in my throat and refused to come out.

"Did he hit you?"

"No," I lied.

"Is he with you?"

"No. I'm by myself."

"Who were you talking to?"

"Umm." I couldn't lie again. "It was Devon's brother. I just ran into him, and he started grabbing at me. I'm at the Last Chance."

"That bar on Church Street?" It sounded like he was moving faster.

"Yeah, that one."

He was in his car and the engine started. "Listen, this is not a good time to be in that neighborhood, especially for you. You shouldn't be there by yourself. Is Devon's brother still around?"

"No. I don't know where he went."

"Is Tim working tonight?"

"Yeah."

"Stay inside and stay by him. I'll be there in five minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until I get there?"

I was shaking my head before realizing he couldn't see that through the phone. "No," I said out loud. "It's fine. I'll be fine. I'll go back inside right now and stay close to Tim."

"Okay," he didn't sound to be in too much of a hurry to let me off the phone. "Five minutes. Stay inside. I'll come in and get you and maybe break that guy's arm." 

Just as I was about to reiterate my promise to do what he asked, the back door swung open. "Shit." My hand dropped slightly, lowering the phone from my ear as I saw the person walking towards me. On the other end of the phone, Rory was calling to me, but I couldn't understand his words. "What do you want, Devon?"

"Vikki!" With the single word, I recognized his slur. Less than half an hour had passed since I'd been in his room, but he was already drunk. "Just the girl I was looking for. You know when my brother called and told me you were here, I realized there were a few things I forgot to tell you."

"Get away from me." My voice was far from demanding, too drained to be strong.

"Hmm you know, I think you'll really really want to hear this. It'll really explain some things that I don't think you fully understood." I stepped back as far as I could, stupidly putting my back against a brick wall. "You really are a fucking dumb shit. A back alley, by yourself, at night. How much dumber could you get?" 

"What do you want?!" It was a nightmare. Worse.

"Just to explain why a guy like me would be caught dead with a stupid bitch like you. It was prom, remember, when I first saw you, hanging all over Rory like he was God's gift to women, and man do I hate Rory. And then I find out, not only were you and Mr. Do-Gooder close, but you were Rich Winters' kid sister. Two for one. I could piss both of them off at once. I corrupted the innocent little girl they had tagging along, and even took her away from them. You are so fucking stupid if you ever thought I actually gave a shit about you. You were only good for stories to tell my friends." He kept walking forward, but I had nowhere to go. Too soon, he was only inches away. 

The phone now hung limply from my fingers, yet to be closed. "Okay, so I was nothing. I am nothing. You said what you wanted to say."

"You know I haven't really decided if I want to be done with you or not. You were good for a personal little emotional punching bag. You just always came back for more." He put his hand on the wall next to my head. I closed my eyes and could only think, 'not again. Not twice in one night'.

White lights reddened my vision, and I opened my eyes to find a car spinning around the corner into the alley. The tires squealed, making Devon turn over his shoulder just as a figured, outlined behind the bright lights, stepped from the car. 

"I'm going to rip your fucking head off, Devon!" The intensity in Rory's voice was even more frightening than it had been earlier.

"Easy there tiger. Wouldn't want to risk this one getting hurt or anything, now would we?" He moved closer, putting his hands on my waist.

"Vikki, get in the car." The anger was deeply rooted in his voice. 

Devon gripped tighter, pulling me up against him. "Aw, come on. We're not quite done playing yet. You're really going to ruin our fun?" Struggling against him did nothing, he only held tighter. My own eyes found Rory's furious ones, desperate for any amount of reassurance.

He stepped closer, leaving the door open and the car running. "This is your last chance to get your fucking hands off of her."

"Mm and if I don't?" 

Rory covered the area between us in fewer strides than should have been possible. Grabbing Devon by the shoulder, he pulled him off of me easy and slammed him solidly against the brick wall, pinning him by the throat with his forearm. "If you don't, I rip your fucking throat out." His breathing was labored, intensified by his anger. "Vikki, get in the car."

"What are you going to do?"

"Get. In. The. Fucking. Car." Not willing to argue with him, I slowly moved away, not taking my eyes off of them as I backed toward the car, my shadow playing against the wall and across they faces. "I told you not to hurt her, to never ever lay your hands on her." 

"You can have the bitch. I don't need her anymore."

Rearing back, Riley hit him square in the gut. Once. Twice. "Rory!" I couldn't let him lose control. It was a stupid thing to do. His attention broke to me for only a second, but it was a second too much. Pushing him off, Devon took a swing, narrowly missing Rory's jaw. Quick to retaliate, Rory took a swing of his own, landing right on target, and threw Devon back into the wall. 

Too much was going on, one pushed, the other pushed back. One hit, the other hit back. I stood rooted in place, unable to do anything more than watch. Finally, Rory pulled back and hit Devon square in the temple, throwing him off balance and to the ground. He spat, clearing the blood from his mouth.

Picking him up by his shift collar, Rory pulled their faces in close. "You don't come near her ever again or Rich, Me, Tim, all of us we will kill you." Another hit to the face. "And we'll take our time." A final blow before throwing in against the wall and letting him slump to the ground.

Rory stood and turned slowly, catching me staring at him, wide-eyed and breathless. "Get in the car, Vikki." He said one last time, voice rough and breathing heavy, still furious. 

I clung to the seat, trying to not look as the road whizzed by faster than it should have. "Rory?" I breathed out, pushing through my panic. His jaw was set in a definitive line, and his eyes didn't leave the road for even a second. "Rory" I tried again, this time with a bit more conviction. 

"Give me a second, Vik." I nodded, knowing he couldn't see me, and continued to watch his face. Finally, we began to slow. Until that moment, I was not aware of what direction we had been heading. Then it was obvious that we were pulling up to his apartment complex. He pulled into a spot and killed the engine, but made no movement to get out. His breaths were deep and forced. "Are you okay?" He finally asked, slowly. It was hard to see him in the darkness, but the shadows made him even more frightening.

"I'm fine."

"You're lying."

"Yes," I answered truthfully, "but you're scaring me."

He sighed heavily and took a few more deep breaths before turning to look at me. His green eyes had softened with concern, and there was very little left to frighten me. "I'm so sorry, Vik." Even in the given circumstance, I loved it when he called me that. "I am. I'm usually a lot more even tempered, but that was more than I could handle." He couldn't find the proper word to describe Devon the way he wanted. "I should have made sure you were okay earlier, but I was worried that if you started to cry or started telling me what really happened, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from going back there." He shook his head, unable to finish what he wanted to say. "Do you want me to take you home?"

Too quickly, I shook my head. Rich was the last person I wanted to see me in my current state. Rory was bad enough; the pair of them would be a million times worse. "Okay, come upstairs then and warm up." He opened his door and got out; I did the same. Before I could take a step away from the car, his arms were around me, holding me tighter than I ever remembered, clutching me to his body. Instinctively, I buried my face against his chest as he wrapped one arm around my lower back and the other near my neck, his head dropping down nearer mine. 

The quivers from his chest told me he was either near tears or still shaking with anger. "I'm sorry, Vik," he whispered into my hair. The warmth of his breath caused goose bumps to grow up and down my arms. "You're safe now. I promise you're safe. I'm never going to let him hurt you again. I promise." His arms were so strong and warm. I tacitly believed him. "I'm so sorry."

I wanted words to come, something to tell him he didn't need to be sorry, but my brain was too foggy and clouded with emotions I couldn't understand. "Come on, let's get you inside." He pulled away from our hug and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, keeping me close and leading me into the building. 

Once we got in, he closed and locked the door behind us. For some reason, being in his apartment made me feel even worse, almost like I was walking into the home of someone I had just cheated on. He started to say something to me, but I cut him off, "Do you mind if I take a shower?"

He was watching me, rather intently, and most likely noticed the change that rippled through me. "Of course," he spoke gently, giving my shoulder a small squeeze, "go on into the bathroom, I'll get you something to change into."

As I stepped away from him, he seemed almost reluctant to let go; his grip lingering for only a fraction of a second longer than necessary. I was in the bathroom for less than a minute before he walked in with a pair of his shorts and a t-shirt for me. "They'll probably be a bit big for you, but they're clean." 

Taking them from him, I felt even more saddened. An 'I told you so' would have been deserved from him, but I couldn't imagine that even crossing his mind. Instead, he was doing everything he could to take care of me after Devon proved that everything Rory had ever said about him was all too true. I tried to say thank you, but where could I even begin? Before I could even open my mouth, "You can use the towel on the rack, and the wash cloth on top of it. I just put them out, haven't used them yet. I'll leave you alone. Take as long as you need," he walked out and closed the door behind him.

I set the water to a comfortable level and started the shower, stripping off my clothes and stepping into the tub. The water felt good as I began to scrub myself, but all at once it was not good enough. Devon's face came into view and I scrubbed harder, turning the hot water up a bit more. There were red patches on my skin where I scrubbed, and the heat of the water was almost too much, but I needed it. 

Then, I could hear Devon's voice, the names that he called me and the vile things he yelled at me while he abused and mistreated me. I could feel him hitting me, touching me. I could feel his hands all over me. All at once, I was crying, having to lean up against the side of the shower to support my own weight. Then I was falling, sliding, my body slowly slumping toward the base of the tub until I curled myself into a ball, bringing my knees up to my chest and burying my face in them, sobbing uncontrollably. 

The hot water rained down on me as I sat, naked and vulnerable. Had five minutes passed since I had collapsed? Ten? All I could do was cry as the room filled with steam, wrapping me in a blanket of warmth that provided no warmth. 

There was a knock, just one, gentle and timid. "Vikki?" A tiny creak and an even smaller surge of cool air told me the door was cracked. "Vikki, are you okay?"

The sound of his voice was calming, reminding me that I wasn't alone. "I'll be done in a second, Rory." My voice was clearly choked and shaken with my sobs, something I knew he couldn't not notice. 

I could feel his hesitation as he lingered near the door. "OK, I'll be out here waiting, but take your time." His words were purely without subtext. He was not annoyed or trying to rush me. Instead, he was only telling me that he would be there when I got out. He would be waiting to comfort me.

It was only a minute after he closed the door again that I turned off the water and stepped from the shower, wrapping his towel around me. Looking down at my hands, I saw how pruned the skin was. No wonder he was worried, I must have been in for a lot longer than I had been aware of. Once I was dry, I pulled on the shorts and t-shirt he had lent me. As the shirt came over my head, I noticed how strongly it smelled of him, giving me a tickle of warmth that had nothing to do with the foggy air.

When I emerged, he was sitting on the couch in the living room, looking disheartened and concerned. He looked up at me as I walked in and attempted to give me a comforting smile, though it came out quite pained. Without hesitation, I went and sat beside him where he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest. His fingers massaged their way through my wet tangles, calming me significantly. His body was warm and comforting, welcoming.

"What happened tonight, Vikki?" There was reluctance, as if he were asking a question to which he did not want to know the answer. I had my own reluctance, but slowly, word by word, the entire story started to fall out of my mouth. Halfway through, I was crying again, causing him to hold me closer, though, from the sound of his breathing, he was close to tears himself. I could feel his heart beat against his ribs and the sound was soothing. He stroked my hair and ran his fingers up and down my arm as I spoke, relaxing me even more.

Once everything was out, he pressed his lips against the top of my head, not kissing, but simply resting himself there. It brought a whole new wave of emotions and guilt, making me wish I were still scrubbing myself in the shower. An uncomfortable feeling rose in my chest. "Today wasn't the first time he hit you, was it?" The words were calm and even, but I could feel the fury behind them.

"I'm sorry, Rory," I choked out, unable to properly answer the question. Even more, I felt that he already knew what it was. His hand tensed into a fist on my arm.

"You have nothing to be sorry about, Vik. You've done nothing wrong." He looked down at me and moved his hand under my chin, urging it up gently. Our eyes met for the first time since I stepped out of the shower. His own eyes were stained red with tears, though it didn't look like he had allowed any to escape down his face. "You have done absolutely nothing wrong," he said again, slowly, as if explaining something very important.

"I should have listened to you and to everyone else; you all have been telling me that he was shit."

"Shh," he moved his hand to the side of my face, his thumb covering my lips. "It doesn't matter." 

I started to protest, "But what if you get into trouble for what happened", but he shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. Just know that I'm never letting you out of my sight again." A smile flickered to his lips, showing me that he was teasing.

"I think I'm okay with that." I snuggled closer to him, finally feeling at ease. There was more I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him how sorry I was that he had to take care of me, sorry that he might get into trouble for what happened. Sorry that I hadn't listened to him in the first place. Yet, I felt that everything could wait.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against my forehead. "I'm just so glad you're okay. I mean, I know you're not ok but you're here. You're back and safe."

"And sleepy." Until the words slipped out, I hadn't even realized how true they were.

"You're always sleepy." I knew immediately that he was referring to the wide range of times I had fallen asleep on him, and couldn't help but smile.

"It's your fault for being so cozy and warm." My body was relaxing in to his, slowly, yet without restraint.

He chuckled shortly. "I'll be sure to stop that immediately." A sigh escaped his lips as I dropped my head against his chest, desperately wanting to hear his heartbeat again. "Do you still not want to go home?" There was a hint of strain in his voice as he whispered the words.

Nothing short of him telling me to leave could have made me go. "If you don't want me to stay then I guess I'm ready to go."

"Didn't I just say I wasn't going to let you out of my sight? I called Rich while you were in the shower to let him know you were here, so if you want to stay, you are more than welcome to for however long you want."

Pulling my knees up onto the couch, I slumped ever further against him. "For the night?" Saying it out loud made me nervous and self-conscious, but he had to know my intentions were purely innocent.

"If that's the plan, kid, we should probably get you settled before you fall asleep out here and I have to carry you to bed. I'll take the couch tonight."

I started to sit up, feeling even worse about how far out of his way he kept having to go for me. "I can sleep on the couch."

"Nope."

"Riley."

"Nope."

"Seriously."

"Nope nope nope." Putting his fingers against his ears, he turned away from me. "La, la, la, la, I can't hear you!"

"Really?" I grabbed at his arm, trying to pull his hands away from his ears. "Riley. You're being ridiculous." Suddenly, the mood was completely lightened, and all the problems of the night seemed a million miles away, simply because Rory acted as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Fine, well, as long are you're not listening, you won't care if I say that I'm just going to go outside and sleep in your car to make sure I don't trouble you any more than I already have tonight. So I'll just see you later." I stood as if about to leave. 

The second I turned away, arms came around my middle, "not so fast." Just as effortlessly as he had when I was twelve, he picked me up and slung me over his shoulder. "Looks like I'm carrying you to bed." With his arms wrapped around his thighs, he moved toward the bedroom. 

"I thought you weren't listening." Between his shoulder being lodged in my gut and the blood rushing to my head, my voice came out strained.

"I have ESP. Can be quite inconvenient sometimes, especially if you're trying to ignore someone who is just talking nonsense." We reached his small bed room, and he immediately plopped me down onto the bed.

To my great displeasure, I let out a groan of pain as my back hit the mattress. All of the laughter drained from Rory's face. "Oh God, are you okay? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't even think." He was frantic, desperate to apologize. In an instant, he looked ready to cry, eyes full of guilt. 

"It's okay. I'm fine. I landed on a sore spot, that's all."




Promises



It all started with a simple statement. A promise perhaps. They were laying in bed one night during the week after she had just come off of his lap from one of her good girl spankings and rewards she always craved. She looked up at him, a smile across her face and at that moment, he told her that he had something special planned for them this weekend. Her heart stopped. It wasn't that he didn't surprise her from time to time, in fact, he did it often. However, there was something in the tone of his voice that told her this weekend would be different. 

He had casually mentioned for months that he had wanted to see her with another man and how much pleasure he would get from giving her directions on how to please someone else as he watched. She never thought he was serious, but she should have known better because it was rare if ever that he said something he didn't mean. However, she never thought he would actually want to share her or her pleasure. She wanted it to be his and only his, but she had to remind herself that this wasn't about what she wanted. Well, in many ways it was because she wanted to please him. His pleasure was her ultimate goal and this is what he wanted from her. Yet, it was still hard to think about being with someone else after so long of it just being him.

She wanted to ask him a million questions, but she couldn't concentrate enough to even formulate one at that minute. Plus, she knew that when he was ready to tell her if this in fact was what he had planned, he would, but deep down, she knew. 

The week went by so slowly. She had more difficulty than usual concentrating at work. She wondered what he had planned and her mind ran in a million different directions, but always ended with him being proud of her, of her showing him what a good girl she actually was for him. Only for him. She could do this for him if this in fact is what he had in store for her. 

She kept hoping that he'd give her a hint throughout the week, but no luck. Every time she brought the weekend up, her told her not to worry and that he was taking care of everything, emphasizing the word everything. That is one of the things she loved most about him. He took care of things. He let her know if she was expected to do something. She didn't have to guess or wonder. The only wondering she did was daydreaming and fantasizing and she found herself doing that more than she was willing to admit especially this week as her mind was in overdrive.

Friday finally arrived. She was used to hearing from him at lunch time almost daily as he checked on her to see how her day was going and to see if she was behaving. She looked forward to that call or text each today, but today it never came. She kept checking her phone thinking maybe she just didn't hear it ring, but there were no missed calls or messages. This left her in turmoil because it wasn't like him. Had he forgot he told her they were going to do something special this weekend? Surely not as she tried each night to get a hint from him. Had he changed his mind? Since she wasn't completely sure what he had in mind, she didn't know. If he really intended to share her, did she want him to change his mind? Part of her kept saying yes, almost praying that he would, but she remembered that not only would this please him, but she knew without a doubt that he would never do anything to put her in danger or cause her harm. She was his, his to use for his pleasure, but also his to protect and cherish.

As she finished her lunch break without hearing from him, she went back to her desk. Her voicemail light was blinking. She always dreaded that light because she never knew what the message would be or what situation she would have to diffuse this time. Putting in her passcode, she took a deep breath. She was frustrated and now she had to possibly deal with another situation or "fire." However, as soon as the message started, a smile spread across her face and she finally released that breath she didn't realize she had been holding. It was his voice. The moisture between her legs grew and her body came alive as always when she heard his voice. 

"I just wanted to remind you that we have special plans this weekend little girl. I want you to be ready for me to pick you up at work at 3," he instructed, knowing she always left early on Fridays. 

"Be waiting for me in the lobby. You won't need your car this weekend, so, I'll take you to work on Monday morning." He knew she worried about everything and didn't want her to think about how she'd get to work or how she'd be without a car all weekend. 

"And by the way, before you come outside to be picked up, be sure to remove your panties. You won't be needing any of those for the rest of the weekend. I've taken care of everything else and your bag is already packed."

As if she wasn't wet enough by hearing his voice give her such clear instructions, that last one sent a jolt through her and a rush of blood and moisture to her, no, to his pussy.

She had two hours to wait. He knew the effect that would have on her and that's why he left her a message instead of calling her on her cell where he knew he'd be sure to reach her. He wanted her anticipation to build. He loved keeping her on the edge because he knew what that did to not only her mind, but to her body as well. He knew with one touch that shivers would run down her body, but not shivers because she was cold. In fact, thiese shivers would warm her in the most responsive part of her body.

Watching the minutes pass slowly at the corner of her computer screen, finally 2:45 appeared. She wanted to keep her panties on as long as possible to keep her wetness from leaving a spot on her sundress, but she knew it was time for them to come off. She secretly wished he was there to do it for her. She always preferred when he undressed her as opposed to making her do it herself, but that was not an option today. 

So, she quickly gathered her things together to leave for the weekend and headed down the hall to the ladies room to follow his instructions. Once she was sure the door was locked, she set her bag down and slowly moved her hands up under her dress to grasp the sides of her panties and slowly pulled them down her legs, very concious of the cool air coming in contact with his already very wet pussy. She lost her balance a bit, so, she held onto the sink and lifted each of her legs up to remove the panties from her ankles. Having her panties around her ankles reminded her of being over his lap, but she couldn't get distracted... not now. There was no time. 

Noticing the wet spot on her panties, she blushed and quickly folded up the evidence of her arousal and placed them in her purse. She didn't have time to waste, so, she quickly smoothed her dress down over her hips making sure she was presentable and not exposed. There was only one person she wanted to be exposed to and soon he'd be there if he wasn't already. Washing her hands and quickly deciding to let her hair down, she rushed out of the ladies room to the front door and lobby. Happy, but anxious, she wasn't surprised that he was already waiting for her outside. 

She lit up when she saw him standing next to the car waiting for her. When he saw her coming towards him, he smiled and began to feel his own arousal in his pants. She did that to him easily, but the fact that tonight would be another first for her, the feeling was even stronger. He loved exposing her to new sensations and experiences while exploring her limits.

Opening his arms, she quickly moved between his arms, laying her head next to his chest, feeling his heart beating. Kissing the top of her head, he moved his left hand up to her neck, grabbing a handful of her hair while his right hand slid down her back over her ass to make sure she followed his instructions. She knew what he was doing and knew he wouldn't be disappointed. When his hand reached the bottom of her ass satisfied that she had followed his order, he cupped it, pulling her closer to him while using the grasp on her hair to move her head to the side to give him access to her ear and neck. He felt her gasp a bit as he leaned down and whispered, "Are you ready for what I have in store for you this weekend little girl?" 

His breath tickled her neck sending another shiver down her spine as she took a deep breath and let out a sigh.

"Answer me," he ordered as she took a moment to find her voice.

"Yes, Daddy. I'm ready," she replied as she raised her eyes up to him expectably, looking for a hint in his eyes, face. Not letting go of her hair, but moving his hand that rested on her bottom up to her face, he brought his lips to hers, claiming her mouth with his quickly. He felt her relax in that instant. She was his and he knew it, she knew it.

Breaking the kiss, leaving her breathless as usual, he looked down at her and started to walk towards the passenger side of the car expecting her to follow him and she did. Opening the door, he quickly, but sharply spanked her bottom to tell her to get in. She bent her body to get into the car and then felt the skin of her bottom come in contact with the seat. She had to adjust her sundress because she didn't want to leave a wet spot on the seat and she was squirming a bit trying to make herself comfortable when he sat down behind the steering wheel ready to head off to their unknown destination.

"Remember to keep your knees apart," he reminded her. Quickly opening her knees a bit, she heard the warning in his voice as he said, "Wider." She let out a small moan and opened her knees further apart, giving him easy access to her pussy should he want or need it. This made her feel naughty, wanton, but she loved it. She loved every minute of it and sat in silence begging him in her mind to touch her. She needed to be touched. She craved his touch more each day. Unfortunately for her, he kept his eyes on the road and his hands on the steering wheel as he talked to her about her day. He still wasn't giving her any hints.

They drove about two hours before they stopped for a quick bite to eat at a small cafe in a small town. They talked and laughed, his hand brushing hers or her knee whenever he had the chance. He knew how much she liked feeling his hands on her, but he also liked touching her. Touching her was his way of reminding her without words that she belonged to him. 

She couldn't handle it any longer and came out and asked," So, what are we doing this weekend Daddy?" She didn't mind using Daddy in public, but lowered her voice a little just in case. He simply smiled and said, "We are having a nice dinner and soon we'll be back on the road for about an hour." She started trying to figure out where they would be in an hour, but she couldn't figure it out. She didn't know of any cities nearby. Hmmmm she was thinking. He loved watching her mind work. 

Wrapping up dinner and being satisfied that she'd have energy for the rest of the night, they returned to the car, him escorting her, guiding her by placing his hand firmly in the small of her back. She got a chill again just as she did every time he did that. It was a subtle hint. A subtle reminder. Once she was in the car, he bent down and kissed her lips once more and then gave her one more instruction before he went around to his side. 

"Pull your dress up. I want to see your knees open and your pussy on display for me as we finish our drive."

Quickly pulling her dress up, she wanted him to touch her, to feel the wetness that was already between her legs, but he wasn't going to give her that satisfaction, not yet. He wanted her longing, craving, and needing him. However, he loved seeing her on display like that for him. Pulling away for the last leg of the trip, his hand grabbed hers and squeezed making her settle back into the seat and close her eyes. He was driving her crazy and he knew it. 

In less than an hour, they started driving down a winding road through a quaint village. It was a cute town filled with history and character, but not someplace they would normally visit. Soon they pulled up through a set of gates and she saw the sign. She forgot about this place, but had told him many times she'd like to visit. There was a large inn with lots of small private cottages scattered along the grounds. She looked over to him and smiled, pleased he had brought her there and thinking maybe that meant it would just be the two of them Relieved until he smiled back her, she saw it in his eyes. There was more. She saw the promise in his eyes and she took a deep breath and settled back against the seat. Once again, he took her hand in his, squeezing gently, reassuring her. 

Leaving the car out front of the main inn, he went and checked them in as she waited in the car, her pussy more wet than it had been during the drive as she waited...Coming out of the inn quickly, he got back into the car and drove them around to one of the cottages. Parking the car, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, touched her arm gently and whispered hotly in her ear, "You will never forget tonight baby."

Biting her lip, her heart started to race as he got out of the car to get the bags and then open the door for her to help her out. Once again, he guided her down the path to the cottage they would be staying in for the weekend. 

"How long are we staying Daddy?" she asked. 

"Until Monday morning, little girl. We'll leave early enough Monday to get to work in time, so, don't worry. However, I want you to myself this weekend. No outside distractions, except for maybe one. This isn't your only surprise," he answered.

As she thought about that statement, she knew maybe she was right about what he had planned for the weekend, but when? When would it happen? Her tummy was in knots and filled with butterflies.

Letting her into the cottage, she took in the room before her. It was beautiful. It wasn't filled with antiques or any of the old decor some of these places were known for and some people loved. This was elegant, but the colors soft and soothing. Then she saw the bed. Although it fit in with the rest of the room, it clearly stood out as it wasn't as soft as everything around her. No, it was hard, but it was beautiful. Iron posts and backboard with beautiful scroll work. She couldn't help but think he chose this room for the bed as she pictured herself cuffed to headboard. 

He was watching her as she took in the room and knew what she was thinking. He could see it on her face as she got her first glance at the bed. She couldn't hide the blush on her cheeks from him and he knew if he were to run his hand up her thigh at that moment that he would find her folds slick with her own juices. He loved when she was wet for him. 

"We don't have a lot of time to waste tonight. Sit on the bed.," he told her. "I need to get you ready, but first I need to make a call." 

He left her there sitting and thinking about what he meant as he stepped outside to make his phone call. She couldn't help but try to think who he could possibly calling and despite what her brain told her, she found the wetness between her legs grow even more. 

He wasn't gone long as he walked up to where she was sitting on the bed. Spreading her knees more for him, so he could stand between them, he bent down and claimed her mouth one more time and then moved his kisses down her neck, over to her ear, where he whispered, "Tonight is for me baby. Tonight, more than ever, you will show me how much you belong to me." She belonged to him, how could she show him any more than she already did, she thought to herself. A realization hit her. Her initial thoughts about this weekend were confirmed at that moment.

Leaving her breathless, sitting on the bed, he walked into the bathroom and began to draw her a bath. As the water was running, he called to her to join him in the bathroom. Her heart was racing, her legs almost weak, but she slid off the bed and walked to the bathroom. She hadn't seen it when they first entered the room, but it was as beautiful as the rest of the room. She imagined them sharing the bathtub, but that wasn't in his plans, not tonight. 

As she approached, he slipped the straps of her sundress off her shoulders over her arms realizing that the dress didn't allow her to wear a bra and realizing at that point that she was completely bare for him under the dress. He wanted her now, but there was no time. Leaning down to kiss her shoulder and neck, he let the dress fall down around her legs. Taking her hand, he helped her step away from the dress and told her to step out of her sandals which she quickly did. Helping her into the tub, he removed his shirt, so, he wouldn't get it wet. As she sunk into the bubbles, she watched him carefully. She loved the look of his shoulders and chest. So many times she had buried her head in his chest. It was one of her safe places with him. 

Kneeling down next to the tub, he pulled her hair back so it wouldn't get wet and started to use his fingers and hands to explore her body. She threw her head back, loving the way he worked her body. 

"Open your eyes," he ordered. He wanted to watch her eyes dance. 

He used the soap and his hand to wash her, he didn't want a sponge or anything as he wanted her to feel the electricity she felt when he touched her and he wanted to feel her body react to each of his touches. He used the back of his hand to graze her nipples and her eyes lit up as she felt it harden from his one touch. Doing the same to the other nipple, she once again closed her eyes to take in the sensation.

"Open your eyes, did you forget what I just told you?" demanding an answer.

"No Daddy. I didn't forget. I'm sorry," she replied almost in a panic. She let her body tell her what to do instead of him. She had been in trouble for that in the past. She didn't want to be in trouble. 

"Consider that your first and only warning for the night little girl," he said as his hands continued down her body.

Reaching her pussy, he ran the soap between her legs, causing her to whimper a bit. He adored that sound. Using his fingers and the soap to explore her folds, he watched her face and eyes as she responded even more to his touch. She never could get enough of his touch anywhere on her body, but especially between her legs. She was greedy when it came to that and it was one thing that he happily indulged her in. 

Pleased with the juices she had between her legs, he leaned down closer to her face, so his eyes were looking right at her, almost through her, he asked, "Whose pussy is this?"

"Yours Sir. It is your pussy," she whispered as she felt a finger enter her. There was a shift. She knew that this was about his pleasure, about him commanding her body and that made her feel sexy and powerful, but submissive and willing to please at the same time. These are the times when she called him Sir instead of Daddy. She knew the shift well. 

"That's right baby, it is my pussy. Just like the rest of you. You are mine to do what I want with and tonight, I want to see how you react to being with another man."

Taking a deep breath, she replied, "Yes, Sir."

"You aren't going to disappoint me, are you Joyce?" he asked.

"Umm...No Sir. I hope I don't disappoint you Sir," her voice slightly shaking. He knew she was nervous.

As he gently washed the rest of her body, he watched her even more intently now. Her eyes were responding just as much as her body. When he was satisfied that she was clean, he had her stand up and helped her out of the tub. Taking a large towel, he slowly and deliberately dried her off, starting at her ankles and moving upwards avoiding between her legs wanting to leave her wet and craving his touch. After she was dry enough, he took some of the scented baby oil gel she usually uses. She was surprised he had remembered to pack that, but she knew he liked how her skin felt after she used it. Squirting a small amount in his palms, he massaged it into her legs and ordered her to turn around, so, he could do the same to her bottom. He was going to have fun with her bottom tonight he thought to himself. After paying more than sufficient attention to her bottom and getting her more excited, he had her wrap the towel around her as he left the room for a second. 




Promises



When he returned, he was carrying a box with a large red ribbon. Handing it to her to open, she smiled as her fingers felt the silk of the ribbon. Opening the box, she found a beautiful red silk baby doll trimmed in lace and matching panties. She remembered he had said she wouldn't need panties this weekend, so, she was a little surprised to see them. Feeling the fabric between her fingertips, she wondered how it was going to feel next to her skin. "Thank you Sir. They are beautiful." she said as she went on her toes to reach up to kiss him. 

Taking the box from her, he also took the towel off of her and laid it on the edge of the tub. 

"Arms up," he directed as he slid the babydoll over her head. The fabric was silky, but sheer. "Turn around. I need to tie the ribbon in the back," he told her as she turned to give him access to the ribbon that held the back of the babydoll closed at the top. He was pleased with his selection as the length just hit the middle of her bottom. Taking the panties, he bent down and had her lift each of her feet one by one and pulled the panties up slowly as she faced away from him. The panties were the same fabric as the babydoll, but trimmed with a ruffle all the way around. They reminded him of the ruffle back panties she wears from time to time to entice him. 

"Don't turn around yet," he told her as he rose to his feet and took the elastic band out of her hair, letting it down. Looking at her in the mirror while standing behind her, he loved the color of the babydoll next to her skin. It brought out the natural blush of her cheeks and later on would compliment the color of her bottom. 

"Hand me the brush," he breathed into her ear. He knew it wouldn't be long now before the panties he just put on her were wet. 

Reaching for the brush, his eyes never left hers in the mirror as she eventually handed the brush to him. 

"Hold onto the edge of the sink," he instructed. At first she thought he was going to spank her, but he didn't. She was disappointed. However, then he started brushing her hair gently. As he worked the brush through each strand of her hair, he started talking to her, giving her a hint as to what the night had in store.

"After we are done getting you ready, we are going to put that beautiful bed to use. I'm going to enjoy tying your wrists and ankles to that bed, exposing you, having you at my mercy. You like the idea of that, don't you?" he asked as she felt the moisture between her legs grow and her breath grow short. Not giving her time to answer, he continued, "You are going to be completely at my mercy. Do you trust me?"

"Yes Sir, of course I trust you," she answered knowing in her mind that no matter what was going to happen tonight, she did trust him. She trusted him completely with no reservations to know what she needed, to know what limits he could push and to keep her safe. 

"Good because tonight we're going to have a guest," he said to her as he continued brushing her hair, but still watching her in the mirror. Taking a deep breath not realizing she had stopped breathing again, she let it out very slowly. She was glad he had her hold onto the edge of the sink because her legs felt weak. 

"Relax baby. Trust me. You won't be disappointed and I know you aren't going to deny me this are you?" 

"No Sir," she responded quietly but decisively. She knew in her heart that she would do her best not to disappoint him no matter how hard this might be on her. She was torn, her emotions in turmoil because she wasn't sure she wanted this, but at the same time, she was more aroused than she could possibly imagine.

He continued, "He is not someone you know," putting her mind at ease. "You are to follow my instructions at ALL times throughout the night. He knows how far he is allowed to go with you, but I will be telling you what I want from you. Just as when we are together, you are not to come without my permission. Your pleasure and orgasms belong to me at all times. Do not forget that tonight," he warned her. 

Happy that her hair was flowing softly over her shoulders, he stood to the side of her and kissed her cheek. Just as he did that, he took the brush and pulled it back, spanking her. 

"Uggghhhhhh," she moaned. Then he spanked her nine more times with the brush over her panties, alternating where the spanks landed and watching the lower part of her bottom not covered by the panties turn pink while watching her face in the mirror. 

"That was just to remind you you're mine. Remember that always," he said as he lifted her hand to his lips and guided her to the bedroom. On the bed she noticed a few other things he brought with him sitting on top of the bed. There were the wrist and ankle cuffs, the tethers and a silk blindfold. How many times was she going to lose her breath tonight? She wasn't sure, but knowing that he was going to blindfold her for at least part if not all of the night once again took the air from her as her heart raced and her pussy moistened more. 

"On the bed," he directed. As she crawled on the bed, he thought to himself that he was going to remember to have her on her hands and knees on that bed many times that weekend. "Turn around and lay on your back in the middle." As she did that, he ran his hand down her leg, feeling her tremble. Catching one of her ankles in his hand, he put the cuff on and then quickly did the same with her other ankle. She was still free to move her legs until he used the tethers to keep her in place which would be shortly. Moving up to her side, he then took her wrists, taking the cuffs and placing one on each of her wrists. He then took the red silk ribbon that had wrapped her package and tied her two lower arms together and attached the tether to the cuffs, hooking it to the headboard. She looked like a delightful package waiting to be unwrapped with that ribbon. He could tell she was starting to squirm. He was going to have to tether her ankles sooner than later. 

Trailing his finger over her cheek, down her neck and over her chest and naval, he avoided her pussy, instead going to the side over her hip to her ankle, where she felt him tie the tether to the cuff. Moving around to the other side of the footboard, he did the same with her other ankle. He took it all in as she tried to watch him. He stepped away from her, walking to the bathroom, to get his shirt. Walking back in the bedroom, she turned her head to watch him start buttoning his shirt down his chest. She was disappointed. She would rather be unbuttoning those buttons instead of watching him cover himself up, but obviously, she was in no position to do that now. She pouted a little. She wanted him not someone else.

As he approached the bed, she saw him check his watch. He knew it was almost time. It was almost 8 PM and their guest should be arriving soon. As he got to the side of the bed, she saw him lift the blindfold in his hands. 

"Lift up your head," he told her as she lifted her neck to give him access to tie the blindfold behind her. He knew there was no chance she'd be able to see from the sides or anything with this blindfold. They had found it in a shop a few months back and it was formed to her eyes. As he tied the ribbon behind her head, he felt her body stiffen, her breath get shallow and her heart pound even faster. To satisfy his own curiosity, he took his right hand and slipped it into her panties to see how wet she was. She gasped and almost begged, "Please Sir." He quickly withdrew his hand. The moisture was spreading up to her clit and he knew she was ultra sensitive already and didn't want her to come just yet. 

She sighed, a whimper of frustration, when he pulled his hand away and pulled the front of her babydoll down to cover her just as there was a knock on the door. His heart started racing at that point too. Quickly, he leaned down, kissed her one more time, and said to her, "If at any time, you need this to stop, you know the word," as she heard him start walking to the door.

She heard the door open, but didn't hear a voice. She wanted to hear a voice. She wanted to know who was at the door, but nothing. The door simply closed. Was there someone else in the room or not? She wasn't sure. If there was, she was on display to someone other than him. That thought caused her to blush, the blush going from her cheeks down her chest, and then she heard a voice, a voice she didn't recognize say, "Quite a site I must say." He sounded older than him. He had a bit of an accent she couldn't place. Her mind was running away from her trying to figure out who it could be and turning her head towards the door as if she thought she might be able to see him. 

All of a sudden, she felt a hand touch her hair. She couldn't feel the hand on her skin, so, she didn't know whose hand it was, but then she heard Sir's voice, "Now, remember baby, listen to me. I'm going to be sitting at the foot of the bed, watching you at all times. Pay attention."

Her reply, "Yes Sir," was soft, almost tentative because someone else was there. 

The hand that was touching her hair, left, which told her it was his. She longed for him to touch her again, comfort her, hold her, but then she felt a hand rougher than his lay flat on her chest. His touch was firm and caused her to raise her back a little because it was foreign. 

"Lay back baby," she heard from the foot of the bed. He didn't lie. He was watching and would be there, that thought took her somewhere deep, somewhere that told her this was okay. Relaxing, she let her body take in all the sensations. She felt the hand that was on her chest move down over her breast, pausing a moment to pinch her nipple through the fabric. Letting out another small whimper, his hand continued down her body and over her panties, down between her legs.

"What do we have here?" he asked. She didn't say anything and then she heard his voice again from the foot of the bed. 

"Our guest asked you a question, you are to respond. Remember your manners. By the way, you may call him by his name, Mark" her Sir said to her.

"Yes Sir," she replied. She was relieved. She had hoped he wouldn't make her call him Sir. She never wanted anyone else to have that title.

Then their guest asked her again as she felt him press a finger against the wet spot in her panties, "What is this?"

"My panties are wet. They were wet before you got here," she said quickly, wanting him to know that her Sir did this to her, not him. She heard him laugh a little as he pressed his finger deeper in between her folds, pushing her panties into her wetness.

"You are one wet little slut. Aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes, yes, I am a wet slut, my Sir's wet slut," she responded with a little hint of frustration in her voice. 

This was going to be harder than they both thought and then her Sir once again reminded her, "Baby, If you disrespect him, you disrespect me and you know the punishment for that. Do you want a punishment in front of Mark?" he asked. 

"No Sir," she answered quickly. "I'm sorry Sir. I'll be good."

"That's better."

During that exchange, Mark's hand never left her panties, In fact, he was continuing to work the fabric between her folds, getting them even more wet. Then she felt him gently tapping her pussy with his palm. She let out a small moan and began to let herself relax. He kept tapping her pussy and soon she was raising her hips a bit trying to reach his hand. 

"She responds beautifully," Mark said to her Sir, talking as if she wasn't there. Sir didn't respond, but she knew he was still there.

All of a sudden she realized that there was no way their guest could take her panties off the way she was bound. She felt a sense of relief at that moment. Maybe, just maybe she wouldn't be more exposed to him than she already was at the time she thought. However, in reality, the panties offered her little protection. In fact, they may have heightened the sensations she was feeling because she felt the wet fabric against her and it reminded her of how aroused she truly was at that moment. 

Letting his taps of her pussy lighten, she started moving her head side to side gently. She was losing herself, but then she felt him firmly pull her panties to the side, giving him access to her. Quickly she felt him slide a finger in her. Gasping and whimpering, she heard her Sir say, "That's it baby. Let him hear you. Let me hear you." That reminded her that she was doing this for him.

Having his permission, the signs and moans got a little louder as Mark slid his finger faster in and out of her pussy, taking time to spread the moisture up to her clit. 

Her breathing was becoming more ragged and then suddenly she felt two fingers enter her not just one. She was full and let out a loud moan. If this was Sir's hands, she likely would have already been begging to come, but although she wasn't far, it wasn't the same. Then she felt him try to slide a a third finger inter her and she tried to squirm away. Grabbing her thigh gently, he tried to steady her, but then she heard Sir's voice again, this time directed towards Mark.

"Gentle, remember gentle. No more than two fingers. I don't want her stretched out," he said matter of factly.

Letting out another deep breath, she was once again relaxed. He knew she was always aware of how small her pussy was and only on the times where they had a lot of playtime to get her relaxed did he ever try to use more than two fingers in her or any larger toys, and he knew that tonight of all times, she wouldn't be as relaxed as needed for more than that and didn't want her hurt. Plus, her tight pussy brought him quite a bit of pleasure and he didn't want to jeopardize that especially since he planned on using her well after Mark left, but she didn't know that. 

Feeling Mark's two fingers in her again starting to move rhythmically, she felt his other hand start to rub her swollen and wet clit. She started to feel her pussy walls start contracting around his fingers and she let out, "Sir, may I please come? I need to come Sir."

"No baby. Not yet," was his short response. Her body getting rigid, fighting off her orgasm, she groaned in frustration and tried to find the strength to stop from coming. However, Mark didn't let up on her at all. In fact, his fingers started moving faster almost willing her to come around them without permission. They both could tell she was fighting her release. 

When Mark realized she wouldn't be coming, he removed his fingers from her pussy and used his hands to put the top of her babydoll down, releasing her breasts, exposing her nipples to the cold air of the room. Her nipples immediately started to harden, but then she felt him take each one between his thumbs as he squeezed and twisted a little, harder than she was used to or so it felt. Letting out another groan, he kept pinching and twisting. Then all of a sudden she felt his fingers leave her nipples. All too soon though they were replaced by some clamps, but she was confused because as the clamps went in place she felt a finger in the lips of her pussy.

"Oh god," was all she managed to say as Sir said to her, "Very nice baby." He needed to feel how her body was reacting, but he was quick. She wished more than anything that he'd play with her. Did she want two sets of hands on her? She liked that thought, but she was denied that pleasure this time. She heard Sir sit back down and Mark said to him, "I want to see her ass."

She felt the tethers tied to her ankles being loosened one by one and soon her legs were free.

"Uh oh," she thought to herself as the second ankle was freed and she felt Mark's hands at the side of her hips, sliding his fingers under the sides of her panties to pull them off. She knew she could resist now that her legs were free, but she knew better and lifted her bottom a bit to make it easier.

"Good girl," she heard Sir say. She smiled and felt joy fill her as she felt Mark try to flip her on her tummy.

"Hmmm...," she thought to herself, "So this is why is why he bound my arms like this," as she realized she didn't have to be released completely to be repositioned. Flipping her over, she felt Mark's hands start massaging her lower back. As he massaged her lower back, he worked his way down over her bottom and then she realized the nipple clamps were still on. The pressure from the mattress now made the clamps feel as if they got tighter, but she knew that was just her mind. 

As his hands worked her bottom, she started to move her thighs together trying to get some relief between her legs. Noticing what she was doing, she heard the voice from the footboard again order her, "Keep them apart baby. I want to see how well your pussy is responding to his touches." That statement got her even more wet. Was being with someone else arousing her? Was it the fact that Sir was watching her exciting her more exciting or was it just because she was doing it for him that she was so aroused? There was no doubt what the answer was in her mind.

As one of Mark's hands continued to rub her bottom, his other hand slipped between her legs once again, entering her from behind. "Uggghhhhh," she moaned. "Up on your knees," Mark told her. She struggled a bit with her hands tied, but managed to get up on her knees, displaying her bottom. His finger never left her pussy as she got in position. How she loved being entered from behind. It felt like everything was deeper that way. Now that her legs were free, she was able to move herself against his finger and she did. Rolling her hips back trying to get more of her finger inside of her, she was getting greedy now. Mark was encouraging her, telling her to take his finger and how much he wished it was his cock. That made her wonder... Would he? ... As his finger moved faster, she heard him moisten his other hand with his mouth and then placed his moistened finger at the entrance of her ass. He was going to fill both holes. "Did he know how hot this made her?" she questioned herself. Again, she started losing herself in the moment, and she heard Sir ask her, "Do you want to come baby? Do you need to come?"

"Yes Sir, Please Sir, I need to come, Please let me come...." she begged.

"No baby. You are not to come. In fact, because your pleasure belongs to me, you will only come for me," he told her as Mark's fingers started moving quicker in and out each of her holes.

"UUUUUGGGHHHHHHHH," she screamed as the frustration and tension grew between her legs and Mark removed the finger from her bottom, using that hand to spank her. "Uggghhhhhh," she let out again. She had no idea how she wasn't going to come. Her pussy was quivering around Mark's fingers, but she would fight it. When she didn't think she could fight it anymore, both of Mark's hands left her body. 

Hearing the familiar sound of a zipper being undone, she had to stop herself from using her word. She got tense as she felt him push her over by her hips, flipping her over again so that she was on her back. He cupped her pussy, using his palm to press against her clit while at the same time entering her with his finger again. Despite being scared, her body responded and her hips began moving against his hand. 

"That's it baby," Sir said to her, "Feel it. Feel your body. It is hungry baby."

"Uggghhh...Please Sir, please, I need to come."

"No baby. No." he ordered her. Groaning louder, she felt the weight of someone getting on the bed. She knew at that moment that if she was going to feel a cock in her pussy, no matter whose it was, that she would come. She couldn't. She didn't want to get in trouble because she knew he'd make her pay for that later. 

She felt the weight on the bed shift up, closer to her chest and then she could sense that he was kneeling over her. She knew it had to be Mark as she had just heard Sir's voice from the foot of the bed. She could feel the fabric of his pants next to her shoulders. She was surprised that he was still dressed, but that turned her on even more. She loved being used while her Sir was still dressed and Sir knew it. 




Promises



Although she was pretty sure she knew what was going to happen next, she heard Sir tell her, "Baby, I told Mark, how much I loved using your mouth. He wanted to feel it for himself, so, be sure to do your best to please him," as she felt Mark lean over her, brushing the tip of his cock over her lips, almost tracing her mouth. Opening her mouth slightly, she tentatively let her tongue out of her mouth, to feel him. He teased her, by using his hand to direct his cock away from her tongue as he held onto the bed frame with his other hand, steadying himself. 

He was practically making her beg with her tongue as she tried to find it. Abrubtly, he decided he had had enough teasing and entered her mouth, groaning as he did. She realized that he felt different than Sir. He tasted different. Saltier. 

"Take him all the way in your mouth," Sir said to her. That made her moan around Mark's cock, spurring him on to start moving in and out of her mouth. She tried to let him all the way into her mouth, trying to keep her mouth and head relaxed. She ran her tongue along the underside of his cock, and heard him groan even more, quickening the pace as she breathed in and out of her nose since she couldn't stop to take a breath. She had no control of his pace and tried her best to keep her lips wrapped around him. 

"Suck it. Take it all," she heard Mark say above her. Urging her on, she could tell he was close to coming. Was he going to come in her mouth? She wasn't sure. She didn't know what they had planned. She'd swallow if she had to, but something told her that his taste would be different and she wasn't sure how she'd feel or if she'd really be able to do it. 

She sucked harder, willing him on. She was kind of pleased that it didn't take too long to get him so close to coming and she began moving her tongue faster, running up and down his length, feeling the ridges that were new to her and without warning, he pulled out of her mouth as she heard him groan louder and felt the first splash of his liquid hit her chest. She felt about three more squirts as she could sense he was spent over her. Feeling him lift one of his knees over her, she could tell that he was now sitting next to her on the bed. She heard him zip up his pants and then felt his hands reach down to remove the clamps on her nipples. Letting out a small scream, she felt his hands on her chest again, rubbing what he left of himself into her chest almost as if he was leaving his mark. 

"I'm going to have that mouth another time," Mark said to Sir. She sighed, realizing this may not have been a one time deal. She felt her pussy spasm at that thought as she felt the weight from the bed lift and heard footsteps going towards the bathroom where water started running in the sink. Feeling a hand glide up her leg, she wasn't sure whose hand it was at first, but she quickly recognized that touch. It was a touch she'd never get tired of and she was so happy it was His. He slid his hand between her legs and again tested how wet she was as he leaned down and kissed her, whispering between kisses, "Thank you baby." She sighed. Content and happy that she had pleased him.

Leaving her side briefly, she heard him talking to Mark. She couldn't hear everything they were saying, but she swore she heard the phrase "next time" and she squirmed, her hands still bound to the bed. She laid there wet, wanting and needy as she heard the door open and close. Her senses were all heightened as she waited and heard the door lock. Relaxing a bit, she started to hear the shuffle of clothes being removed and her smile broadened. Then she felt the bed shift again as she smelled his scent as he leaned over and used his hand to part and bend her legs. Then she felt it, his cock was at the entrance of her pussy and as he entered her in one swift motion, he reminded her, "Mine. This is mine. You are mine. Come for me," and she did. She let everything she had been holding back out, screaming, losing all control of her body, feeling her pussy spasm around him. He wasn't far from coming after watching the events that transpired and the feeling of her coming around him, but he let her feel him take her over and over again, leaving her empty before pushing himself all the way back into her. "I need to feel you come again baby, give it to me," he said as he went what she felt was even deeper and harder inside of her. "Yes Daddy," she cried out for him, as he poured himself into her. "Uuuuuuuuuugghhhhhh," was all she could manage as she felt him pull out of her. 

As he knelt over her waist, he reached up to untie her blindfold and the tethers holding her arms above her head and took the cuffs off her wrists. He took a moment to admire the red bow, that was still tied around her lower arms. He thought to himself that he was going to keep that ribbon as a reminder of tonight and the gift that she gave him, and just as he reached down with his face to kiss her, she pulled her bound arms down around his head, pulling him closer to her. She whispered to him gently, "Thank you Daddy. I won't forget tonight." He reached for her lips with his one more time as he rolled her over so she was on top of him and pulled her into his chest and told her how much she pleased him before adding, "Next time I want to see your eyes as he takes your mouth while I'm in your pussy, but for the rest of the weekend, I will be the only one taking you or your mouth." She gasped. Another promise. Once again, she was left to wonder when, but she didn't care. She was his and that was all that was important to her as she felt herself melt into his body, her head on his chest. 

"Sleep baby," he told her as he kissed the top of her head. Letting out a sigh of contentment and peace, she drifted off to sleep, safe in his arms.



Promises



All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Enjoy :)

ooOoo

Revenue is the gross inflow of economic benefits such as cash, receivables, and other assets arising from the ordinary operating activities of an entity

Revenue should be measured at the fair value of—




I was interrupted from my reading when my phone rang. The volume wasn't in maximum but I was in the library and the sound reverberated all over. I mentally cursed myself for forgetting to turn it to silent mode when I heard a cough from somewhere in my left. I looked up and wasn't really surprised when I saw the librarian near me with a murderous glare. Other students whose studying were also interrupted flashed me looks of annoyance, save for one guy four tables away who looked very amused at my predicament, grinning and showing his perfect set of teeth. I recognized him as Chaz, who was in the same course and year as me. He was sitting in a table with probably three of the cutest guys in the planet, but he was a much better male specimen with his black shirt fitting him just right to show the outline of his perfect pectorals and muscled arms. I felt the heat in my cheeks and prayed to God that he won't think I blushed because of him.

I guiltily mouthed an apology, and then looked at my phone to identify the spawn of hell that chose to contact me at that instant. It was a text message from Ryan, a senior taking up Accountancy like me and the president of the organization of Accounting majors in our school.

Radleigh, the carpenters have started working on our booth for the University Exhibit for the Founders Week. I am tasking the juniors to provide the meals for them. I'm in the org office right now and if you could come over I'll give you the money for the meals.

I looked up to see the piles of books and materials yet to be read and gave out a huge sigh. It was great to be trusted by my batch mates and elected as the year-level representative and doing things for the organization, but when times like this come when my job as a representative conflict with my studies it's not great at all. The Founders Week Celebration happen right after midterms, so preparations have to be made DURING the midterms, which bugged me so much that the Founders of our school have to choose the end of August to establish this institution more than a century ago.

I decided to not reply to make Ryan think that I haven't read the message yet, and went back to reading. A few minutes later I was distracted once more from my studying when I heard someone walking to my direction, probably to sit in the empty table beside me.

It was Chaz, carrying his books, which I see are more or less similar to what I was studying at that moment. Now that he's nearer I can see not only his shirt but how even his jeans fit him snuggly in all the right places, instantly flashing pictures in my mind on what those articles of clothing might be hiding underneath. I shook my head to clear those naughty thoughts.

That guy is not making this library conducive for learning.

He didn't stop at the table beside me though, and rather continued approaching me. I raised my eyebrows at him. He smiled. Damn those teeth.

"Studying for our Accountancy midterms?" he asked me, "We could study together, you know."

I am the type of person that is much better studying alone than with others and started to tell him this when my phone vibrated in my pocket. Ha! Thank goodness I've silenced it already. It was another message from Ryan.

Radleigh, the carpenters need to have their snacks right now. It would be really great if you can come to the office as soon as possible.

Seeing as the text message didn't give me much choice I stuffed my books into my bag and stood up. The chair I sat on made a grating noise as it moved and I heard once more a cough. I chose not to look at the librarian.

"Sorry, but I'm needed elsewhere at the moment," I told Chaz. I saw the flicker of disappointment in his face, but it was right away replaced once more by a smile.

"That's too bad, but we can study together some other time, right?" he asked.

"Hmmm, probably." I answered dubiously.

"Silence in the library!" the librarian called from her desk. I groaned.

I need to find a new place to study next time.

ooOoo

I walked out of the organization office a while later with a whole written list of tasks ahead of me (snacks for three people two times a day, lunch for three, constant supply of water and other requests from the carpenters) and a huge wad of cash whose every cent must be traced during liquidation to make sure that I spent the money for things solely related to the aforementioned tasks. I had better plans for a bright and sunny Friday afternoon with this amount of money, but duty calls.

Knowing that I couldn't do this all on my own I decided to contact my fellow officer, Filian, better to have someone to share the burden with than carry it all alone. He answered on the second ring and told me that he was coming over. I sat outside the org office and waited for him while I tried to mentally organize my time to fit everything that is in my schedule while still having time for a break, and also sorting our errands to get the shortest flow for all of them. I didn't wait long however because a few minutes later I heard footsteps and looked up to see Filian approaching. 

We met each other's eyes, and then grinned. We have a good reason to be amused when we see each other. Both 19 years old, most of the people around us insist that we look at lot alike; even going as far as saying that we may have been separated at birth (I asked my parents a lot of times if by chance they had another child stolen from them, but dad laughingly dismissed the idea and added that he spent sleepless nights in constant vigil of his wife and his newborn son). Looking closer though anyone can see that Fil and I don't look that much alike each other. Sure we've got almost the same shade of brown skin and the black hair, and he's just an inch short of my 5'9" height, but he's got a taller nose while my eyes are a light brown as opposed to the dark brown—almost black—of his. He's got the build of a basketball player: muscular arms and firm, sturdy legs; while I've got the body of a swimmer: broad shoulders and sinewy, streamlined legs.

Another notable difference is that Filian loves women in a rather acceptable range of shape and sizes while yours truly, and I am proud to say this, prefers the d.

"Got a long afternoon ahead of us, huh?" Filian asked while taking the list of tasks from my hands.

I rolled my eyes at him, "Obviously. And I'm not halfway through studying for our exams yet."

"Ditto. Then what are we still doing here? Let's hit the road and get this over with!" Filian exclaimed, rather excitedly.

We decided to get in my car, since we'd be carrying lots of stuff which we couldn't transport comfortably with his motorcycle. Rather than constantly bring water bottles to the carpenters every once in a while we chose to buy a gallon of water instead and provide cups so the carpenters can drink to their heart's (and stomach's) content. Knowing that an ordinary meal for a typical student wouldn't be enough for a carpenter working under the blazing sun, we bought double meals for each carpenter. I can't see how they would negatively react to this. I can't believe how easy all of this is now that we're doing it.

With my earlier sorting out of our routes and Filian's positivity, we finished our tasks for this afternoon much earlier than expected. We dropped the meals and the water to where the carpenters are working and asked them if they have anything they needed that we could get for them. They had none at the moment so Fil and I decided to split up and return to whatever we were doing before Ryan texted me, which in my case is tackling all the study material for my exams this Monday (which I guess was what Fil was also doing before I called him).

I was going back to the direction of the student lounge (lying low of the library for a while) when Filian called my name and ran up to me.

"Rad," he paused while catching his breath, "whose going to keep the water gallon when the carpenters are done for today?"

I slumped; of course it's not going to be that easy. There has to be a catch. "Uhm, can't you bring it home?" I asked Fil.

"Are you kidding me? I live far from the school, and besides, you have the car." Filian argued.

"But we have to leave the water once more to them first thing tomorrow morning. They start working at 8 and I've got classes by then," I reasoned, "they'd be awfully thirsty by then."

Fil crinkled his eyebrows in concentration, while I also thought of how to remedy this problem.

"Why not ask some of our classmates?" Filian suggested, "those who live in the dorms inside the campus. They live much nearer so they can bring the water to the carpenters."

"Great idea! I'll contact someone later," I told him.

That having resolved, we spent the rest of our afternoon wrestling with accounting standards and balance sheets.

ooOoo

I was at one of the men's dormitories in the university, a water gallon beside me and annoyed as fuck. The person I contacted earlier to get the water didn't show up, and I decided to bring the water to him. Coming to his dorm I found out that his door was locked and he wasn't answering my calls. So now I'm at the dormitory's common room and waited for the bastard to come so I can give him a piece of my mind and a lecture on responsibility and commitment.

I was formulating my ministrations when someone tapped me from behind. I turned back and found myself face to face with Chaz, who happened to also live in the same dorm.

"Look who's here," he said, "Finally taking up my earlier offer Radleigh?" He flashed that perfect grin once again.

"N-no!" I stammered. He noticed and grinned even wider and I felt the heat spread all over my body and my heart beat faster, the fucker. 

I collected myself. "I was supposed to see Trey and leave this water gallon so he can give it to the carpenters building our organization's exhibit, but his room is locked and he's not answering his phone," I explained.

"Trey? I just saw him not long ago going out with his girlfriend. I don't think he's going to come back any time soon," Chaz said.

That bastard is definitely getting a much bigger piece of my mind when I see him.

"How about this? Since you're already here and my room's not that far, why not leave the water with me?" Chaz suggested.

This wasn't a bad idea, but I didn't want to agree right away and sound so eager. I pretended to think of it.

"The carpenters need the water by 8, you have to give it to them by then," I told him.

"No worries. I wake up at 6:30 every day to jog," he smiled. He got this already. Fine.

"Okay then, so I'll just leave you with the water right now? Okay." I took my bag and started to walk away. He held my arm and stopped me.

"Actually, I have a bit of a favor to ask in return," Chaz began, "I'm having a bit of a hard time answering one problem in our book, and if you can help me I'd be really grateful."

I considered this and thought that helping him with one problem wouldn't hurt. Besides I could also benefit from it since I can practice with the problem while teaching him. I agreed.

"Great! The book is in my room. Why don't you come with me?" he started walking to his room. I was treated with the view of his muscles flexing as he effortlessly carried the water gallon with him. I snapped out of my reverie and followed him.

He had a single room, and for a guy he has an exceptionally neat room. A bed was on one side of the room, while a worktable with a shelf full of books and a closet was in another. Further back was the bathroom and another closet. The rays of the setting sun were coming inside his window, giving the room a warm glow.

"Why don't you get your book and show me the problem?" I told him while he placed the gallon on the floor. I sat on his bed and waited while he sorted through his books. Not long after he opened a book on a certain page and sat on his chair, patting the space beside him to indicate that I share the seat with him. Seeing as there is no other chair I obliged.

I looked at the page he opened, "Installment sales?" I asked, "What specific part are you having problems with?"

He then proceeded to explain what part he was confused with, while I tried my very best to concentrate on what he was saying and not look at his thick red lips as he talked. We were sitting very close to each other now, our hips touching. I could definitely feel the heat emanating out of him, sending an uncontrollable effect to my body, my groin tightening. I didn't notice that he has stopped talking and looked at me.

His eyes met mine, looking at me with such a fierce intensity, as if asking me a question. He looked down at my lips, and then slowly brought his face closer to mine.

I snapped, and pulled him away from me. This is not good, I though as I stood up. He sat there, looking dejected.

I laughed nervously. "I think I have to go. I have my notes at home and I'll call you later to explain the answer to that problem. I can't accurately remember the concepts right now," I said. I was lying.

He didn't stop me as I took the gallon he left near the doorway. I went to one corner of his room, bending down to position the gallon so it won't get in the way.

One moment I was placing the gallon in the corner, the next moment I was on the bed, my mouth being ravished.

I was lying flat on Chaz's bed with him on top of me, his mouth hot and needing as they kissed mine. He positioned himself between my legs and I could feel his hardness constrained under his jeans. I felt his tongue brush against my lips, insistent and demanding entrance. I opened my mouth and his tongue battled mine, seeking the upper hand. I gave in and closed my eyes, my mind in a haze of bliss and desire.

His mouth left mine, and as my mind was starting to clear up once more he planted kisses on my throat, and sucked the depression right beside my throat. His hands reached down between us, and then he squeezed my hard cock through my pants. My eyes snapped open and I pushed him away from me.

I started to say something, but he puts two fingers over my mouth, silencing me.

"Rad, please, I've been holding myself ever since this morning and if I wait any longer I am going to explode. I promise, just this time, and I won't bother you afterwards," he implores, the lust still not gone from his eyes.

"Promise?" I asked.

"Promise."

I pulled him to me, and we kissed each other once more. I flipped our positions, and now I was the one on top of him. He started unbuttoning my polo shirt while I sucked on his earlobes. After taking off my shirt he then pulled his own shirt over his head. Now we were both shirtless, our bare chests radiating heat all over the room. I marveled at his perfect chest, his abs and his pecs moving while he breathed. I went down and sucked on his nipples until they were hard studs, then planted kisses in his rock hard stomach while I undid his belt. I pulled his pants down and saw the outline of his cock making a huge tent in his boxers. I licked the treasure trail of his hair just above the waistband of his boxers while I slowly pulled them down, until I felt the head of his hard cock slapping my chin.

I teased him, kissing the skin around his groin, making sure my breath is felt by his cock. He moans, but he keeps his hands to his sides, clutching the sheets tightly. We dare to not make too much noise, since other dormers are also around. I'm torturing myself just as much as I'm torturing him.

Deciding to not make ourselves suffer any longer, I licked the head of his uncut cock, already oozing with want. I taste him, tangy and salty, which makes me want for more.

"Rad, babe, please."

It was time. I wrap my mouth all over his cock, my tongue playing with the slit still juicing. I take a deep breath and took him even deeper into my mouth, fighting the urge to gag. I slipped further until I felt his pubic hair tickle my nose. He moaned once more. I bobbed my head on his shaft while my hand stroked his balls, his breath becoming more and more erratic.

He put his hand on my head, stopping me. "Babe, if you keep on doing that I'm going to cum soon," he told me breathlessly, "and I want to cum inside of you."

He pulled me to him and kissed me, his taste still in my mouth as he ravished my lips. Once more we changed positions, and I was lying on the bed while he returned the favor I've done to him earlier. He sucked my nipples as he pulled my pants down, and was a bit surprised when my cock sprang out unconstrained.

"Going commando for today, baby?" he asked, grinning as he stroke my cock.

"I thought I'd spend the whole day studying, who needs underwear?" I answered. He laughed.

Not wasting any time, he immediately engulfed my cock in his mouth, and I fought the urge to moan loudly as his mouth worked wonders on my shaft. I closed my eyes, losing myself to the sensations, when he stopped and stood up. We lost physical contact and I felt lost and empty. I whimpered.

He smiled, "I have to prepare you first baby," he said as he opened his drawer and took out a bottle of lube. He went back to me and we kissed as he coated my ass with lube. Then he went down and once more wrapped his lips around my cock as he teased me, circling his fingers around my hole. Then he pushed one digit inside, and I felt my breath catch up at the slight burst of pain, but the pain ebbed and I pushed myself back against the digit. I was getting used to it when he placed a second finger, then a third. His fingers sawed in and out of him, rotating and twisting. His fingers brushed my prostate and I felt myself light up like a candle.

He noticed, and repeatedly stroked that sweet spot. I reached down and held his hand.

"Get in me Chaz," I implored, "I need you inside me."

He stood up, took a packet of condom and rolled it over his hard shaft, then got the bottle of lube and placed a generous amount on his cock. He positioned himself between my legs, his cock at my entrance.

"Get in me now," I demanded, the wait was killing me already.

He pressed his cock forward, I pressed back, and I felt the head enter, bringing with it once more the pain. Chaz stopped and kissed me, not pushing any further until I was ready. The pain went away once more, and I pulled him closer. Slowly his whole cock went inside me, and I felt that wonderful sense of fullness.

"Are you ready to move, Radleigh?" Chaz asked. I only managed to nod as the sensations overwhelmed me.

In and out he moved, his balls slapping against my butt. Our breath heavy and labored. Then Chaz adjusted himself to an angle he knew too well, and I felt the head of his cock hit my prostate. I bit my lip, not wanting to give ourselves out, but the pleasure was so great and I can't help but moan. It felt so good and our bodies moves as one as we drove each other to completion. Chaz wasn't holding himself back either, relentlessly pounding my asshole with his huge member, increasing in speed and intensity. 

He bent down and pressed our bodies together, wrapping his hands around my cock, not losing his momentum as he pounded me. He ravaged my lips and I wrapped my feet around his body, the room saturated with desire and pleasure. The combined feeling of his hands and his consistent pounding sent waves and waves of pleasure to me. I felt my balls tighten, and I know I'm not going to hold out much longer.

"I'm going to come babe," I said, my breath coming in hoarse pants. Chaz's pounding also became more intense, and I know he wasn't far behind. It didn't take much longer, and I moaned as I came between us, pulses of pleasure coming out of my body. Chaz thrust deeper a few more times, and then I felt his juice spill inside me, filling me up with his intense heat. He fell on top of me, and then pulled out, and we bathed in the afterglow of our lovemaking.




Promises



"I love you Radleigh."

"I love you too, Chaz."

Exhausted from the events of the day, I fell asleep, Chaz's arms still wrapped around me.

ooOoo

I woke up to the feeling of someone tracing circles down my cheeks. I opened my eyes and saw Chaz looking at me.

"I can't believe how beautiful you are," he said.

I smiled, "Well, you don't look bad either," I told him, "But I'm angry at you," I told him.

He looked so cute when he's confused and I fought the urge to kiss him. "You promised me three days ago that you won't distract me from studying!" I reprimanded him, "How can we possibly get some study time when you keep jumping my bones?"

He sat up and raised his hands in mock resignation, "I'm sorry. I really tried my best to control myself but you look so gorgeous even from far away and I guess it wouldn't hurt if we sat next to each other while studying," he explained, "then you came to the dorm and I guess my self-control was already crumbling by that time. The moment you came in and tempted me with your perfect ass while you placed the water in the corner, I lost it. Really it's your entire fault for being so gorgeous that I can't keep my eyes, and hands, off you," he smiled innocently.

I laughed, and pulled him down for a kiss. We got to know more of each other when we were grouped to analyze a local company's financial statement almost a year ago, and we got closer every since. Barely eight months have passed since we decided to make our relationship official. We managed to balance our studies and our time for each other, both of us being academic scholars who need to maintain our grades. Most of the time we can keep our hormones at bay and manage to keep our hands off each other when our academics call for our undivided attention.

Most of the time that is. This is not one of those times.

We came up for air moments later.

"So, what's your plan for the rest of the night?" I asked him.

"Well," he began, "I was thinking why we don't extend our break time a little bit longer? Just one more?"

I sat up, scandalized, "But you promised that that was the last time until our midterms are over!" I protested.

"Of all the promises that I'm going to tell you, not making love to you is the only one I'm going to break all the time," he smiled sheepishly.

I sighed, he's hopeless. I don't mind though, the benefits of his offer greatly exceed the cost.

I pulled my boyfriend closer for a searing kiss.

ooOoo

I am planning to make more about Chaz and Rad, but that depends on my schedule (yes I paralleled Radleigh's college life with mine). Feedback will be truly appreciated, hope you had fun :)



Promises Broken



Debbie was completely divided over her night with Kyle. The guilt of having cheated on her husband with one of his best friends was like a rope around her neck, choking off her breath. At the same time the heights of ecstasy she had reached that night were so far beyond anything she had ever encountered that it made it impossible to truly regret. Or forget.

When her husband, Paul, returned from his business trip a few days later, she was so glad to see him that she was afraid she would make him suspicious with her enthusiasm. But while she was guilty, it wasn't only guilt that made her welcome him home with such abandon. In the days between Kyle's visit and Paul's return she had ample time to reflect on things, and she came to a conclusion or two. First, if her sex life with Paul were what it should be, nothing would have ever happened. She knew she shared the blame equally with him there. And second, that incredible night with Kyle had left her very horny.

For several weeks after Paul's return from that trip their sex life had the spark it had when they were first married. Debbie went out of her way to do more to excite him. She dug out a sexy negligee that she hadn't worn for him in eons; she had semi-spontaneous sex with him a couple times as soon as he got home from work; and one time, while they were sitting on the couch watching a movie, she just pulled his cock out and sucked it.

Debbie loved the way things were going between them during this period. Her extra efforts to please her man made her feel good about herself, eclipsing any guilt. And at the same time it encouraged Paul to be more attentive to her needs than he had been in a while. The result was one of the best stretches of their marriage—some days (and nights) Debbie felt she could just burst with love for him.

As wonderful as the affection and sex were though, it was only a matter of time before the inevitable comparisons began to arise in her own mind. Debbie couldn't ignore the fact that she was having the best sex of her marriage with Paul, and yet it could not equal that wild, lustful evening she had had with Kyle.

There were physical reasons, of course: Kyle was a muscular six-foot one to Paul's soft-in-the-middle five-ten. And Kyle's thick nine inch cock dwarfed the respectable, if less-than-intimidating, member of her husband. But that wasn't it.

It was Kyle's arrogance. That look in his eyes that said he never doubted his ability to charm his way into any woman's pants. And more… his ability to make them want to please him; do whatever he wanted. Debbie still tingled as she recalled looking up from her knees into his bright blue eyes. Somehow his look had told her that he knew what she would do before she did herself.

Debbie had resented Kyle on a level bordering on hate before that night. Now she was starting to resent him again, but for totally different reasons. She had disliked, perhaps even hated him then for being a womanizer in general and in particular for dating her sister. So many times Debbie had seen Kyle with beautiful, if brainless, bimbos who looked at him in a way that was just short of worship. To see her own sister fall into that category had eaten at Debbie's insides like acid.

Now though, Debbie's resentment of Kyle was far different in nature. While she still clung to the old grudges, she had a new reason to respond with disdain to the sound of his name. He had given her something she had badly needed; something she could not ask for again while maintaining any dignity or self-respect. But something she found herself craving nonetheless. It was galling to say the least.

* * * * *

It had been almost six months since that night with Kyle and Debbie found herself lying awake and unsatisfied beside her snoring husband. He hadn't been very energetic in his love-making tonight and his efforts never came close to bringing her to orgasm. In spite of how good things had been, Paul and Debbie had slowly fallen back into old patterns. They were once again having sex in routine ways, at routine times. 

The worst part was, Debbie acknowledged, was that it was her fault. They had been having wonderful, spontaneous sex. Both of them had been putting more effort and energy into keeping things fresh and exciting. Debbie had been the one whose interest had waned. She had worried all along that she might have been trying to recreate the excitement of that night with Kyle, something Paul would never be able to give her. And once it became obvious that she couldn't achieve that level with her husband, it broke her heart to keep trying. Soon they were back where they had been before,

Debbie climbed out of bed and slipped into the bathroom. She turned on the light and looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. Her blonde hair fell straight down to her shoulders, framing her high cheekbones, delicate nose and deep green eyes. Her breasts, 36-C's, were firm, her nipples stiffening in the cool night air. Her body narrowed at the waist before flaring out into generous hips and a round ass supported by supple thighs. A tuft of silky blonde hair covered the inviting mound between her legs. All in all, she had to say for thirty-two she still looked damn fine and damn fuckable. 

But it wasn't that Paul didn't want to fuck her, or that she didn't want to fuck him. The problem was that he simply didn't, or couldn't, take her to that place where she had once been.

* * * * *

A few weeks later Paul and Debbie were hosting their first barbecue of the new season. Naturally, Kyle had been invited and, naturally, he had brought one of his customary dates. Her name was Krissy, but Debbie couldn't help but think of her as Barbie. She was a bleach blonde with a Barbie Doll figure and a tittering, nervous way of giggling. And she, like the others before her, had that infuriating way of behaving like Kyle was the center of the universe.

Debbie maintained the cool, distant attitude toward him that she always had before, although this time it was not so effortless. Emotions warred within her, strong emotions that wanted to sneak out in the form of a sudden sharp comment or involuntary facial expressions. The fact that he behaved toward her the same way he always had only made things more difficult. Had it meant so little to him that he could so nonchalantly pretend nothing had happened? Was she really just another notch on the bedpost to him?

Her own reactions bothered her. Of course Kyle was treating her as he always had. Debbie herself had told him to! Maybe she was just another lay to him. So what? How did she think it was supposed to be?

She was standing in the kitchen, looking out the window at him as these thoughts raced about in her head. As Debbie watched, Kyle's hand went to the bulge in the crotch of his pants and tugged at it a couple of times. His little Barbie watched and giggled, the sound causing the muscles in Debbie's back to clench. And yet Debbie's eyes remained on that bulge. Was she waiting to see if it grew?

To Debbie the party seemed to drag on forever. She only spoke a couple of times to Kyle, and both times were brief, polite exchanges. In neither instance did she make eye contact with him, maintaining her frosty exterior the way she always had. Once during the party though their eyes did meet. She had been standing maybe a dozen feet away from him, facing in his general direction, but not looking at him. Her eyes shifted over to him at the same time his fell on her. Their eyes locked on each other for a second longer than they should have before Debbie averted her gaze. She could feel the warmth rising in her cheeks, and maybe just a little tingle down below as well.

As the party wound down, Paul and Debbie walked around to the front of the house to see off the last of their guests. Kyle and Krissy were among them. Debbie watched Krissy (Barbie) hang on Kyle as he maneuvered her to his truck. She had put away three or four margaritas and now she was being pretty playful with him, even rubbing her hand on his crotch in front of the rest of them. Debbie was sure that even before they got to Kyle's house, Krissy would be sucking his cock.

"I've got to run out and get some plastic wrap and disposable containers for the extra food, honey," Debbie said to Paul as they started back inside. "We'll clean all this up when I get back." Paul had been putting down beers all afternoon and was clearly not interested in cleaning up just yet.

"Okay, babe. Don't worry… won't start without you." He plopped himself into his recliner as Debbie grabbed her keys and headed out the door. She knew he would be sound asleep in about five minutes.

* * * * *

She pulled out and headed toward the store. But it wasn't the store she was going to, was it? No, she didn't really need more plastic wrap. And she knew that Paul would be all too happy to postpone cleaning up. She might have even realized he was drunk enough to fall asleep in his chair. Was she really that devious? Even with herself? Was she really going where she thought she was going? To Kyle's?

Oh, be honest, Debbie told herself. You saw that silly little Barbie, the look in her eyes. She knew she was going back to Kyle's place to have him pound her into a state of incoherent ecstasy. And you're jealous!

Yes, maybe she was jealous. She turned and drove toward his house.

He lived just a few miles away and she was there in mere minutes. She drove past slowly, making sure they weren't still in his truck. Then she parked a couple houses up the street and walked back. His street had no streetlights and his front porch light cast only a small halo of illumination, not enough to reveal her slipping into his back yard.

She had been here a few times with Paul, so she knew the general layout of the place. It was a small rancher with a den built off the back. The master bedroom was in the back as well. She figured they would probably be in one of those rooms.

The bedroom was dark, so Debbie peeked into through the window of the den. Sure enough, there they were. Kyle was sitting on his sofa with his jeans around his ankles. Krissy, wearing now only a bra and her denim mini skirt, was on her knees between his legs. Debbie watched the blonde head bob up and down on his massive tool, and felt herself getting wet. Krissy stopped a few times to kiss it, lick it and rub it sensually against her face. Then she began giving him a slow, steady sucking, her lips gliding down his cock and back up it again. Krissy's eyes were closed as she took Kyle's shaft deep into her mouth over and over. 

Watching, Debbie denied to herself that that was what she wanted—to suck Kyle's cock again. She wasn't excited by the thrill of surrendering to him. She didn't want to kneel before him as he stood over her, asking to please let her suck his cock and experience his dominance. The humiliation of knowing that she was just one of many, nothing special to him in any way—just another tart who would give him head; knowing that once she was on her knees, she would do whatever he wanted; despising him and yet being unable to refuse him—no, she definitely wanted no part of that. And she certainly didn't want him to pump that massive rod of his into her and make her cum over and over again for her reward.

The blonde head in Kyle's lap began to bob faster now and Debbie held her breath, anticipating at any minute he would cum. But he didn't. Blowjob Barbie was sucking away as Kyle ran his hands through her hair and spoke to her. Debbie couldn't hear what he said, but she was willing to bet Kyle called her a cock sucker. Debbie felt a warm flush as she remembered when Kyle had called her that, and how it had made her feel slutty and hot to be talked to that way. Debbie unbuttoned the top of her shorts and slipped her hand down into her panties, as her other hand cupped her breast. She was warm and wet, her clit aching to be caressed. She quickly obliged and felt the first tremors of orgasm begin to build inside her.

The girl was sucking hard and steady for five minutes, then ten, then fifteen. She showed no signs of letting up and Kyle for his part looked no closer to cumming. Debbie marveled at the patience and endurance of the little tart. She couldn't imagine being able to keep up that pace herself for so long. She wondered if all of his bimbos were so talented. Or maybe it was a skill they practiced and developed just to please him? Hating herself for thinking it, Debbie wondered if her sister, Donna, had ever spent so long a time on her knees between this bastard's legs.

After nearly twenty minutes, Barbie gave one last burst, bobbing furiously for nearly a minute or so before falling back on her heels, defeated and panting. Kyle stood and kicked off his jeans. The sight of his erect cock sticking straight out in front of him made Debbie's insides tremble. Debbie gasped involuntarily at the length and thickness of his member; at how hard it was and at the thought that it had once been in her mouth, her pussy and her ass.

Kyle stood in front of his date now and slipped his hand behind her head, drawing her mouth down on his cock once again. Her wide eyes looked up at him as she obediently complied. Debbie moaned softly as she touched herself, remembering the feel of Kyle's hand on the back of her head.

Then Kyle turned Krissy around and gently pushed her down onto her elbows, so her ass was sticking right up at him. Debbie saw Krissy's hips tremble and buck as Kyle slipped a talented finger up into the wetness between her thighs. Then he was rubbing the head of his shaft at her opening as she pushed back, trying to get him inside her. When Kyle slowly slid his impressive manhood into her, Krissy began to buck and moan. As he started pumping her, she began to scream, a little at first, then building as her orgasm approached. The screaming, Debbie realized, was quite loud outside and suddenly she worried that a neighbor would look out to see what was going on. She hurried back to her car, buttoning her shorts as she ran.

* * * * *

Three weeks had gone by since the barbecue and Debbie was still reliving that night in her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about that big, beautiful cock of his, shiny with his little tart's saliva and sticking out hard and straight. She couldn't help remembering the way his date had writhed as he put his tool in her. Debbie remembered the feel of Kyle inside her; the way he stimulated parts of her that had been untouched before or since.

It was well after dark one night and she was headed home on the road that ran past Kyle's neighborhood. Acting on impulse, Debbie turned and drove past his house. His truck was in the driveway and a car was parked on the street in front of the house. Debbie, as she had done before, drove past his place and parked just up the street. 

As she made her way around to the back of the house, she saw a dim light coming from the bedroom. She peered inside and sure enough, there was Kyle with a woman lying in bed. It was not Krissy, but a brunette Debbie noticed without much surprise. Kyle did not seem to stay with any woman very long.

The two were lying in bed under the sheets. Debbie judged by the expression on the girl's face that they had just had sex. She watched for a while, but nothing happened. She did see the outline of Kyle's cock under the sheets, not erect now, but still impressive. Disappointed, she left.

It was less than a week later that Debbie found herself creeping into Kyle's yard yet again. This time she knew she was in luck—the same car was out front and Debbie could hear screams of pleasure coming from inside the house. She peered in the bedroom window and saw the brunette from the other night sitting astride Kyle. The girl was furiously bouncing up and down on his meaty shaft. Her hair, matted and sweaty, hung down in her face and her body trembled and spasmed with the pleasure of each deep thrust. Kyle's hands kneaded her ample breasts as she forced him up inside of her over and over.

Debbie watched with her hand in her pants as Kyle rolled his girl over and took her from behind. With each jackhammer thrust the brunette moaned a little louder until she was screaming in orgasm. He continued to pump her after she had collapsed exhausted on the pillow. Debbie could see in the way her hips twitched and shoulders shook that another orgasm was on the way. It took time, but Kyle never slowed his pace and eventually the brunette was bucking and screaming as what must have been an incredible orgasm ripped through her.

Debbie thought they were done and was about to retreat to her car when Kyle drew his cock from the brunette still just as rock hard as when he put it in her. Hadn't he cum? Debbie wondered. She watched as Kyle rolled his date onto her back and then he sat astride her chest. His shaft fell across her face and she wasted no time sucking it into her mouth. He slowly stroked himself as she bobbed on the end of it. 

Suddenly he threw his head back and let out a throaty cry. Debbie could see the brunette's forehead crinkle in a frown and knew her mouth was filling with Kyle's cum. He continued stroking himself a moment or two longer before pulling his shaft from between her lips and rubbing it on her face. She made another face as she struggled to swallow his load, then took his cock in her mouth again and sucked it gently. Kyle's shoulders shook as she coaxed every last drop out of him.

Debbie's own mouth was tingling with the memory of tasting herself on Kyle's shaft, of taking his load in her mouth. Her fingers slipped into her panties and gently stroked her clit. She felt the heat of desire between her legs and also the frustration of not being able to sate it the way she wanted. It was cruel to see that cock and know she could not have it. Not without totally sacrificing her dignity. How bad did she want it?

She hurried back to her car and drove home. Paul was not home. Tonight was his bowling night, which was why Debbie had decided to drive past Kyle's in the first place. She went upstairs to change, but as she started undressing, she couldn't help thinking about the scene she had just witnessed in Kyle's bedroom. She felt the moistness between her legs as she slipped out of her pants; gave her breasts a playful squeeze as she tossed her bra aside. Then she was standing there in just her panties, one hand stroking herself through the fabric, the other cupping a breast. She couldn't stand it any longer. She needed release.

She removed her panties in a single deft stroke and slipped a finger up inside herself. A surge of pleasure washed over her and she started toward the bed. Just as she was about to lay down, she had a sudden inspiration. Debbie knelt on the floor and tried to imagine Kyle standing before her, looking straight down into her eyes, slipping his hand behind her head and drawing her to him. Her fingers furiously rubbed her clit and she felt the warmth of orgasm building to crescendo. The warmth built to a fire as she opened her mouth, as if to take him in. Her body was starting to shake and a low moan escaped from her.

Just as she felt herself about to cum, she placed a finger from her other hand against her sphincter and pushed it gently but firmly inside. Her body contorted instantly in a wrenching orgasm. She pitched forward, falling to the floor as the wave rolled through her, wracking her with pleasure. When at last it passed, she lay there for several minutes gasping for breath.

As she lay reveling in the deliciousness of her orgasm, she wondered if this would be enough. Could a few minutes of fantasy answer her needs? If she could supplement it with occasional peeping tom excursions into Kyle's yard? The orgasm she had just experienced had been good—her best in months—so it was easy to tell herself now that it was enough. But lurking somewhere inside her was the fear that it wasn't so. Sooner or later, she'd have to up the stakes.




Promises Broken



* * * * *

A week later Paul and Debbie were hosting another barbecue, and naturally Kyle was invited. He arrived with a woman that Debbie hadn't seen before. She was a brunette, but not the one she had seen in his bed the other night. She wasn't one of his typical dates, Debbie could tell almost immediately. She was a little older than his usual fare and lacked that starry-eyed way of looking at him. Her figure, however, was of the same voluptuous sort that Kyle always favored. She wore a short black sundress that revealed almost as much thigh as cleavage. Debbie noticed all the male guests at the party sneaking peeks at her.

Debbie's sister, Donna, had also come to the party with her boyfriend, Stan. Donna and Stan had been together for almost a year, so Debbie had met him several times. He was sincere, thoughtful and good to Donna, and Debbie had taken a natural liking to him. As Debbie looked from Kyle and his date-of-the-week and then over at her sister and her boyfriend, she felt no small amount of relief that Donna was with a good man like Stan, and away from a self-esteem destroying womanizer like Kyle.

Debbie had prepared herself to be courteous, if a little cool, toward Kyle, as was expected. But when she saw Kyle and Donna talking, she nearly screamed at them from across the yard. Stan had wandered over to the grill to talk to Paul and Kyle's date was nowhere in sight, leaving the two of them to converse privately. Debbie couldn't imagine what they could be saying to each other. The way they were smiling and laughing together as they talked was causing Debbie to clench her fists and grit her teeth until her temples hurt. She forced herself to walk away, heading for the bathroom to compose herself.

When she came back, Donna was back over with Stan and Paul and Kyle and his girl were talking with another group of people. Debbie didn't know if she would be able to hold her temper if the situation were to repeat. Fortunately, she didn't have to find out.

Kyle's girl had been whispering in his ear from the time the two had arrived. Debbie was sure she had seen the woman's hands caressing his ass once or twice too. At any rate, Kyle, who was usually one of the last to leave, wound up being among the first to depart. Debbie, peeking out the window as they drove away, saw only Kyle in the truck. God! Debbie thought. Had she gone down on him right there in her driveway?

For the rest of the night Debbie offered to get Paul a beer any time she saw him without one. By party's end, Paul was quite drunk. In fact, he was asleep in his recliner before the last few guests left. Ordinarily, Debbie would have been quite upset about him getting so intoxicated. Tonight, though she pretended to be embarrassed and angry, she hardly noticed. As soon as everyone was gone, she checked on Paul one last time. He was out, probably for the night. She grabbed her car keys and left.

As had become her pattern, she parked beyond Kyle's house and walked back, creeping into his yard. The bedroom and den lights were both on and Debbie peered quickly into the bedroom. No one there. She turned and looked into the den and what she saw almost caused her to scream.

There, sitting on the couch with Kyle, was Donna. Debbie almost started pounding on the window, but stopped herself at the last instant. She looked in again. Yes, it was Donna sitting there with him, but both were fully dressed and they appeared to be just talking. Debbie let out her breath slowly, but was unable to unclench her jaw. What the hell was Donna doing here talking to him? Why wasn't she with Stan? And where was the older brunette that Debbie had expected to see riding Kyle's cock?

Debbie wasn't sure what she was feeling. The anger of seeing her sister here and the disappointment of not getting to watch Kyle fuck that woman created a strange mix of emotions in her, neither feeling strong enough to overwhelm the other. In her confusion, she simply stood by the window and watched.

Kyle was sitting at one end of the couch, his back in the corner so he was partly facing Donna. She sat sideways in the middle of the couch facing him. As Debbie slowly took in the scene, she noticed a few details that helped to calm her. Donna still held her car keys in her hand and she had changed from the shorts she had worn to the party into a pair of jeans. And of course, Kyle had almost certainly fucked that other woman just a couple of hours ago. So maybe the two of them were just talking as friends.

But Debbie couldn't make herself believe that. There was only one reason a woman would come to see Kyle. The two of them were smiling and laughing a lot, the way they had at the barbecue, and the cynic in Debbie didn't see it as harmless friendship. Every once in a while, Donna's hand would touch Kyle's shoulder or thigh as they talked. It gave Debbie a cold feeling inside.

They went on talking that way for twenty minutes or more and Debbie was beginning to wonder if she had misjudged the situation. But then Donna leaned over and kissed him. Just a quick kiss, but it was followed quickly by another, far deeper and more passionate one. Debbie watched, mortified, as Kyle pulled Donna to himself and planted kiss after wet, sloppy kiss on her. Then Donna's hands were undoing Kyle's jeans and reaching inside. Stunned, Debbie could only stare slack-jawed as Donna pulled his member from his pants and began to stroke it.

Donna looked up at Kyle and said something that made them both laugh. He chuckled a reply as his cock grew firm in her hand. Donna had always had a dazzling smile, but Debbie couldn't remember her smiling the way she was now, as she bent to place her lips on the head of Kyle's cock. She kissed it gently, her eyes on his as she did. Then she wrapped her hand around the base of his thick pole and stroked upward. Debbie was too far away to see the precum, but when Donna licked the head of his cock, Debbie knew that's what her sister was tasting.

Suddenly, Debbie realized that the window on the other side of the room was open. She had been watching through a picture window and had heard none of what the two inside had been saying. The window opposite would not give her as good a view—and might expose her to someone passing by in front of the house—but she would be able to hear them. As she hurried around to open window, the sound of Donna's laughter reached her ears.

"Yes," Donna giggled. "I remember." She tried to put her mouth over him, but she was laughing and pulled away.

"And the conductor kept looking back?" Kyle asked.

"Mmmmm hhhmmmm" This time she managed to stifle her laughter and take him into her mouth. After a moment she slipped him out. "Do you think he knew?"

"Sure, why do you think he kept looking?" They both laughed again. Then Donna looked up at him, stroking him slowly.

"Mmmm, what I wouldn't give to suck your cock on a train again!" She bent forward and closed her mouth around the head of his member and slowly slid down his shaft, taking almost three quarters of him into her mouth. Just as deliberately, she came back up and went back down again. She sucked him like that for a minute or so before suddenly sitting upright again.

"God you've got a great cock," she said, reaching out and touching it like she was petting an animal. They weren't laughing now, but Donna was still smiling as her fingers traced the vein in his shaft. "But I really should be going," she added, her eyes and fingers still on his member.

Kyle stood up and moved in front of Donna, his erect shaft protruding out of his pants as if pointing at her. They looked into each others eyes for a moment, then Donna slid forward on the couch until her face was an inch from his hard cock. 

"Go on, Donna. Suck my cock."

Apparently, Donna did not need much encouragement. Her hands on his thighs, she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around him again. Donna's eyes were closed now as she sucked Kyle deep into her mouth, slowly and steadily, over and over.

"Ah, yeah," he breathed. "You always sucked a great cock." She pulled him out of her mouth and smiled up at him.

"A big fat cock like this brings out the cocksucker in me," she said and gave him a push that caused him to step back a couple of paces. He stood there watching as Donna slid to her knees in front of him.

"And you always looked so fucking good on your knees," he said to her as he pushed his cock forward into her face. "Show me what a cocksucker like you does on her knees."

Donna looked up at him and smiled as she tugged his pants down. As they fell to the floor she took his shaft in her hand and stroked it as she licked his balls. She slowly pumped him as she took first one of his balls, then the other gently into her mouth. His body shook with pleasure as her tongue caressed the underside of his shaft and his scrotum before working her way back to the sensitive area between his balls and anus. His fingers traced the sides of her face for a moment and then he plunged his hands into her hair.

Watching at the window, Debbie heard herself let out a stifled sigh. She was barely aware it had come out of her, but had Kyle heard it? He turned to look toward the window. Debbie quickly ducked back into the shadows, telling herself there was no way he could have seen her. She fought to get her breathing under control. Her heart was racing. And she was sopping wet.

She couldn't believe she was getting turned on watching her sister with Kyle. But did it have anything to do with Donna, or was it just watching Kyle that made her so wet? She peeked through the window again, relieved to see that Kyle was no longer looking in her direction.

Donna's eyes were closed now, her body rocking with the rhythm of her lips on his shaft as she took him deep into her mouth over and over again,. Kyle stood over her, breathing deeply and running his hands through her hair. Occasionally he would look down and watch her sucking on him. Then Donna started to moan between mouthfuls, her hand slipping down inside her unsnapped jeans.

"Take your pants off," Kyle breathed in Donna's ear as she continued her sensual pleasuring of his throbbing cock. She paused, looked up at him and laughed.

"Oh no, you don't!" she said with a smile. "I shouldn't even be doing this!" She resumed sucking his cock a little faster than before, as Kyle's hands ran through her wavy brown hair.

"C'mon. Take them off," he said again, gently caressing her cheek with his fingers. "You know I'll make it worth your while." Debbie watched her sister, knowing what would happen. If Kyle didn't cum in the next minute or two, Donna surely wouldn't be able to refuse him. Debbie knew she herself wouldn't. Just looking at that incredible cock of his, shiny with saliva, was enough on its own. But Kyle had, whether Debbie liked it or not, a sort of primal attraction about him. He knew he could drive a woman to the heights of ecstasy, and it gave him that confident swagger that women responded to. Debbie might hate him for having that power over her, over Donna and over women in general. But that didn't stop her from getting wet thinking about his cock and what he could do to her with it.

Sure enough, Donna stopped sucking and sat back on her heels, looking up at him as if trying to decide. But Debbie knew the decision was already made. As she watched, Donna slid her jeans and panties down, then, still on her knees turned around and leaned over the sofa. Kyle wasted no time positioning himself behind her, placing the head of his member against her swollen pussy lips. Donna was so wet already that his first thrust went more than halfway into her. She screamed as he drew out, took hold of her hips and pushed himself still deeper into her. Within a few strokes he was pounding his massive erection all the way in, eliciting scream after scream from Donna. She was rocking backwards into him, meeting his every stroke, forcing him still further inside of her. 

Debbie saw her sister cum almost immediately, her body writhing and trembling. But Kyle never slowed down, driving his shaft into her over and over, even as Donna was spasming in orgasm. Her screams became moans, her eyelids fluttering, unable to stay open as he continued to electrify her with his cock. Her hands clenched the cushion of the sofa as her body shook with the pleasure she was feeling between her legs.

Debbie was marveling at Kyle's endurance when he finally drew his cock out. Almost as soon as he had withdrawn it, Donna spun back around to face him and took his sticky shaft in her hand. With no hesitation, her lips parted and she took him into her mouth again. Debbie could hardly believe she was seeing this. And the way they did it, almost automatically, told her something too—they had done this before.

Debbie remembered the brunette he had seen with Kyle the week before; remembered the way he had cum in her mouth after he fucked her. Watching Donna sucking him now, Debbie wondered if he did that with all of his women. How the hell could he get a woman to do that for him? So many different women? But Debbie knew the answer. She herself had willingly dropped to her knees, eager to please him after the orgasms he had given her. Even as it stung her to see her sister do it, Debbie knew she would have done the same.

Donna may have been expecting him to cum in her mouth, but Kyle didn't. He watched Donna suck him for a minute or two and then he pulled away. He turned toward the window, causing Debbie to duck back into the shadows again. A moment later, she heard her sister's voice.

"Oh, no! Not that!" she heard Donna protest. "I can't do that tonight." Debbie peeked back in the window. Kyle had his back to it now, facing Donna, who still knelt on the floor. Kyle was holding something out to her, but Debbie couldn't see what it was.

"Oh, yes," Kyle told her. "You want it." Debbie saw Donna's eyes open wide, the smile gone from her face. Whatever they were talking about, Debbie was pretty sure her sis was going to go for it. Sure enough, Donna turned back to the position in which Kyle had just fucked her. But her movements were tentative, uncertain. She looked nervously over her shoulder at him.

"I don't know," she said half-heartedly, as Kyle once again got behind her. This time though, instead of slipping himself into her, he put something on his hand and rubbed it on his cock.

Oh my God! thought Debbie. He's lubing up to fuck her in the ass! Indeed, not only did he lube himself, but he squirted some on Donna's butt and began working it into sphincter with his fingers.

A minute later he was thrusting his cock into Donna's ass, pushing it in as far as she could take it, over and over. Donna was screaming in a strangely hoarse voice, from what Debbie knew must be a combination of pleasure and pain. The muscles in her neck stood out as Kyle grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto his shaft, sliding it deep up into her ass. In moments she was rocking back against him in rhythm with his thrusts as almost all of his massive cock disappeared inside her. Then Donna stopped, her body writhing and bucking as she screamed in orgasm. In the height of her ecstasy Kyle held her firm against him, his pole buried in her sphincter as she spasmed with pleasure.

When he drew his cock out of her, it was still hard as a rock. Kyle still had not cum. He lifted Donna to her feet and then sat her on the couch. To Debbie, Donna looked dazed and exhausted, but she was clearly willing to let Kyle do with her as he pleased. He leaned her back on the couch and pushed her legs back as far as they would go, leaving Donna's feet hanging above her head. Then he knelt at the edge of the sofa and pressed his beefy shaft to her asshole again.

She screamed even more hoarsely as he entered her ass again, her face contorting with the pleasure and the pain. Debbie could see tears trickling from the corner of each of Donna's eyes. She was alternately clenching her teeth and gasping with each hammer stroke of his cock. He pounded her steadily, building her back up to another orgasm. Debbie wondered if she would cum yet again. Soon enough, she had her answer. Donna wrenched herself away from Kyle, almost throwing herself off the sofa. Her body shook as she let out a low, throaty moan. She lay there panting, bathed in sweat, still twitching and spasming as the thrill of orgasm slowly ebbed from her. Kyle knelt between her legs, rubbing his cock against her to elicit still more spasms of pleasure. 

When at last Donna opened her eyes, Kyle stood up, leaned over her and kissed her tenderly on the lips. One of his fingers traced gently around her breasts and the fingers of his other hand slid softly through her hair, feathering it back behind her ear. They were both breathing heavily still, their bodies glistening with a sheen of sweat. Through the open window Debbie could smell the muskiness of her sister's pussy.

"Go wash up and come back here," Donna said to Kyle. He kissed her again before disappearing into the other room. He returned a few minutes later, toweling himself off. His cock was only half erect now, but even still, Debbie thought it looked incredible. Oh, to have that grow to full size in her mouth! Of course, that was exactly what Donna was about to experience.

Sliding from the couch to the floor, Donna knelt before Kyle. Her knees close together, hands folded in her lap, she leaned back on her heels and gazed up at him. Her expression was very open, almost wide-eyed, as she looked up into his eyes. His cock hung inches from her face, but she seemed not to realize. Her eyes saw only his and his hers. Whatever their eyes were saying to each other, for that moment in time, it seemed to exclude everything else around them.

Debbie looked at her sister, suddenly struck by how incredible she looked. Kneeling before this Adonis, Donna was an artist's depiction of submissive feminine beauty. Utterly vulnerable, yet unflinching she conveyed with her eyes, her body, that there was nothing she wouldn't give him at that moment to please him. To Debbie, she was simply beautiful.

Slowly, Donna took his cock into her mouth. As she gently sucked him, he swelled again to his full size, stretching her lips as he grew. She alternately licked his shaft and balls and sucked him into her mouth, all at a very unhurried pace. He ran his hands through her hair, his breath catching from time to time as her lips and tongue found particularly sensitive spots. After several minutes, she settled back on her heels and looked up at him.

"You're going to have to cum," Donna told Kyle. "As much as I'd love to stay here and suck your cock all night long, I can't. So you have to cum." He smiled, but said nothing. She gave him one last look before taking him back into her mouth. She went much faster now, bobbing on his beefy pole for all she was worth. It took several more minutes, but Donna never faltered. Debbie couldn't help but think of the Barbie look-alike she had seen suck Kyle with such determination. At the time Debbie had wondered if her sister had ever given Kyle head like that. Now she knew.

But where Barbie had faltered, Donna did not. Kyle grunted and his face contorted as he came. Donna's brow furrowed as his load filled her mouth. Then she swallowed and it was all over. His softening shaft slid from her lips and she sat back on her heels and smiled at him. He rubbed his cock against her face and a last drop of cum smeared across her cheek.

"Pig!" she laughed, getting to her feet. He smiled and kissed her, then they embraced for what seemed like a long time. 

Debbie suddenly realized she had been here, away from home and her hopefully-still-passed-out husband for quite a while. She hurried off to her car and raced home. Fortunately, Paul was still where she had left him. She went about the business of cleaning up, knowing full well that she would have to have some release before she could sleep. Paul was obviously not going to be any use to her, but between her fingers and the image of Kyle's cock, she would get what she needed.




Promises Broken



* * * * *

For several weeks afterward, Debbie found herself hurrying home from work, so she would have time to masturbate before her husband came home. The few times in that span that she and Paul actually made love were unremarkable. Once she came, once she came close and the other times were good, but not that good. She had driven by Kyle's house a couple of times as well. His truck was not there either time, but she told herself she wouldn't have stopped anyway.

As the electric thrill of the episode slowly faded, Debbie's mind began to wander to fantasies involving Kyle. Mostly they were variations on what she had already seen of him with other women, but occasionally she imagined scenarios that included herself. These always made her just a little uncomfortable. She told herself it was because she had cheated on her husband with this man and such daydreams naturally made her feel guilty. But part of her suspected it was because it was dangerous to think like that. What would happen when imagining it wasn't enough anymore? Then what? Yes, it definitely scared her a bit.

It was during this period of fantasy and masturbation that Paul's company sent him out of town for a couple of days. Debbie knew she had to stop what she was doing, that she couldn't keep peeking in Kyle's window and masturbating while thinking of him. At the same time, Paul being away seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up. She rationalized that she needed to get this out of her system while he was gone, so when he came back, she could give him the attention he deserved.

The first night Paul was gone, Debbie drove past Kyle's house no less than four times, but his truck was gone and the lights out every time. The next she drove by a couple more times but he wasn't home then either. She masturbated at least twice each day as she remembered what she had seen before. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't enough. She was surprised at how disappointed she felt. Did it mean that much to her to watch two people have sex? Was she that much of a voyeur? 

Or did it have something to do with Kyle and the way he excited her? She thought about how she had always resented him for his womanizing, even though he was never anything but respectful to her. After their one night together, she had a better understanding of just why women responded to him the way they did. It didn't help though that she now found herself in that category. He was an arrogant bastard that could seemingly get any woman to do anything for him that he wanted. What burned Debbie the most about it was that she was not immune to him. She had been a willing participant in the movement to please Kyle. She was alternately angry and excited when she recalled that moment when she first saw his cock, first tasted it. She couldn't believe she had let him have what she wanted, and that angered her. But on the other hand, it had been so good. Had she ever been more turned on than when she got down on her knees for him and sucked that incredible cock of his?

Now Debbie's husband was due home tomorrow and Kyle was still not home. He must have found a single woman, Debbie sneered to herself. She took a deep breath and decided it was probably for the best that she hadn't seen him again. Maybe she could put all this nonsense behind her now and get back to a normal life. When she got home, she went to bed without masturbating and felt better for it. This whole thing was something she wasn't proud of, but it was over. 

* * * * * "Hi, babe, it's me," said Paul's voice on the answering machine the next night. "My flight's been cancelled, so, uh, I guess I'm stuck here another day. They're going to try to get us on the 8 AM flight tomorrow as stand-bys, but if not, they can definitely get us on the 5:45 tomorrow night. I'll give you a call in the morning to let you know. Love you."

Debbie sat and stared at the answering machine. Her resolve of the previous evening seemed to vanish with the device's final beep. She sat there telling herself that she couldn't, wouldn't—but fearing at the same time that there was no stopping it. After all, what was the harm? He hadn't been home the first two nights, so he probably would be out again tonight. 

God, how could that bastard have gotten inside her head like this? The fact that she felt her loins tingling with anticipation was just salt in the wound. She hung her head, her straight blonde hair falling down all around her face. She shook her head in disbelief. How could she have come to be in such a spot? She didn't even like the fucking guy! I'll go to the mall, she thought, do some shopping and some people watching and just get this crap out of my head.

Debbie grabbed her keys and purse and headed out. The mall wasn't crowded, being dinner time on a weeknight. After she had browsed through all of her favorite stores, she stopped for a burger at the food court and thought about going home. About how she was going to go home. She could loop just a few minutes out of her way and take a quick drive past Kyle's. She knew she wanted to stop herself from doing that. She hated that she kept thinking about it. And hated that she was powerless to prevent herself from making that little detour.

As Debbie turned onto Kyle's street, she felt a flutter in her belly. She told herself that he probably wasn't even home, and, even if he was, it was too early for him to be doing anything all that interesting. Nevertheless, her pulse quickened. Then Debbie saw his truck in the driveway and a wave of heat shot through her whole body. Relax, she scolded herself. She knew there was really no reason to be expecting much.

She parked a little further up the street than usual, and took a few extra deep breaths before getting out of the car. There hadn't been another car in the driveway or parked out front, so her chances of getting to see Kyle in action were pretty low. But still she felt an almost electric tingle running through her.

She stole silently into the back yard and made her way carefully to the den window. The light and the TV were on, but she didn't see Kyle. She craned her neck, trying to find an angle that would allow her to see into the adjoining room. The she heard a sound behind her.

"Debbie?"

She whirled around to find Kyle standing there. She blushed furiously, her heart now racing, knees suddenly shaking.

"I… uh, um…" she gestured futilely in the direction of her car, but no words came out. What the hell could she say to explain why she was in his yard, creeping around like a criminal? He looked at her, waiting for an explanation, but she had none and couldn't even come up with a remotely plausible story at this point. After watching her stammer and gesture for a few moments, he shrugged and pointed to the side door.

"Want to come in and talk about it?" Kyle asked. If he was upset at all by Debbie's unexplainable presence in his yard, he certainly didn't show it. Debbie fought the urge to take a deep breath. After a moment, she found her voice.

"Uh, no. I… uh, that's not, I don't think so…" She shook her head for emphasis, avoiding his eyes. She was trying to avoid looking at him at all.

"Are you sure? Anything wrong?" It was Kyle's polite tone of voice, the one he always used around her. Probably the one he used around all the women he wasn't supposed to fuck, she thought, suddenly irritated by it.

"No, I'm fine," she asserted, regaining her composure. She even managed to look up into his face as she said it. Mistake. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he looked back at her, his lips showing just a hint of his ever-present smirk. His eyes and expression unleashed a maelstrom of emotions in Debbie. She hated that smirk and the way he looked at her. That look that said he knew he had what she wanted, needed. But she also felt the desire between her legs flare, her belly flutter and her nipples harden. Involuntarily, her eyes strayed to his crotch. He was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt that revealed nothing and she quickly looked away. But surely he had noticed.

"C'mon," Kyle said and held open the door for her. He gestured inside and she went in without further protest. He indicated for her to have a seat on the couch as he went into the next room. He came back a moment later with a couple of beers and handed one to Debbie. Then he sat down a respectable distance from her on the sofa and looked at her for a moment without saying anything.

"I shouldn't be here," Debbie said suddenly, putting her beer down on the end table. Kyle nodded his mute assent, never taking his eyes off of hers. This was that excitement she had been missing, Debbie realized. This was forbidden fruit, the anticipation, the potential for incredible sex… it was all here, less than three feet away from her. She felt herself burning with the desire for all of that, but paralyzed at the same time by her dignity, her pride as well as her love for her husband and her resentment of the power Kyle was wielding over her.

"So why did you come here?" Kyle asked. It was simply a question, devoid of implications.

"I… I don't know," Debbie lied. "I shouldn't have." She picked up her beer and took a long sip. Kyle nodded again, keeping his attention focused on her. She could feel him reading her. He had to know she was vulnerable. Any minute now he would pounce on her like a cat on a mouse. She was totally surprised when he stood up and turned away from her.

"Maybe it would be better if you left then," Kyle told her. The bottom dropped out of her stomach, like she was going down the first big hill of a roller coaster. All these wars raging within her, and he could just casually tell her to go home? Sure, she thought, clenching her jaw. Any minute now some other tart will stroll through the door and fuck and suck him all night!

Debbie looked up at him. Kyle was watching her with a curiously subdued expression on his face. He must have known that he could have her if he wanted to. But he was choosing to be the strong one, send her home without taking advantage of her in a moment of weakness. Did he truly feel guilty about sleeping with her? Debbie supposed it wasn't impossible, although she hadn't previously thought of him as the type that would care. 

She stood and started toward the door. He wasn't looking at her, so she quickly stole another glance at his crotch. Was his cock getting hard? Maybe it was just the folds in his jeans, but it looked like something might be stirring. He opened the door and stood holding it for her. It was decision time, Debbie knew. She stopped in front of him, her eyes on the floor between them.

"Christ, Kyle," she said through her teeth. "You know why I'm here!"

"Which is why you should go," he replied, his voice soft, non-judgmental, but firm. God, was he going to make her beg for it? Debbie slowly lifted her head, her eyes traveling up his muscular body until their eyes met. He looked into her eyes for a long moment before shaking his head. The fucker was refusing her! But there was no anger, Debbie realized, just a horrible feeling of disappointment. 

She had felt the desperation of him slipping through her grip before. It had driven her, in a near-panic, to take her blouse off for him. Her fingers once again began to undo the buttons of her top, but Kyle's hands quickly stopped her. He was shaking his head again. The anticipation was getting uncontrollable. Debbie just couldn't walk out the door now. Somewhere she had crossed a line, passed some point of no return.

"Take it out," Debbie whispered. 

"No. We can't."

"Yes," she said, gently pulling her hands from his. "Yes," she said again, leaning forward and kissing his chest.

"You know we can't do this," he repeated, but he didn't sound completely convinced himself anymore. Emboldened by this, Debbie slowly lowered herself to her knees before him.

"Take it out," she said again, her face inches from his zipper. Instead, he spun away from her, walking quickly to the other side of the room, one hand grabbing at the hair on the back of his head. He turned back toward her, opening his mouth to say something. No words came out though. He stood still shaking his head, but unable to look away from her.

Debbie remained kneeling on the floor, watching him, savoring his indecision, confident that he wanted her as much as she wanted him right now. She realized that she was still wearing her clothes from work. A khaki skirt that fell above her knees and was starting to get a little tight in the thighs, and a white silk blouse that provided only a hint of the luscious breasts underneath.

Remembering how Donna had looked so beautiful and so vulnerable kneeling on this very floor, Debbie shifted so her knees were together, put her hands in her lap and looked up at Kyle with as open an expression as she knew to give.

"Take it out," she said again, letting a little twinge of pleading creep into her voice. "Take it out and put it in my mouth." She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. He stood rubbing the back of his head, seemingly still indecisive, but Debbie suspected he was just acting at this point. He wanted it too. He must.

Sure enough, with a shrug and a snort, the smirk reappeared and Kyle unbuttoned his jeans. He walked up to Debbie before pulling it out, letting her anticipation build. She was kneeling before him with her mouth open and tongue out like she was about to receive communion. Slowly, he drew his thick cock from his pants and rubbed it on the side of her face. He was already three-quarters erect, Debbie saw, and growing stiffer as he stroked against her cheek.

At long last he was in her mouth again. She sucked him deeply, steadily, enjoying the velvety texture of the head of his cock on her tongue, savoring the throbbing warmth of his shaft between her lips.

"Oh, God, Debbie," he breathed. "You know how to suck a cock." She felt the tingle between her legs at the sound of these words. She closed her eyes and lost herself if the act of pleasing him. When she heard moaning, at first didn't realize that it was coming from her. She made no effort to stop herself though, letting every sensation flow freely through her body.

Sucking Paul's cock was nothing like this. Not only was he smaller in size, but it was like he was too grateful for it. Kyle, on the other hand, could just get some other chickie to blow him. Why Debbie found that thought so stimulating she couldn't say, but it was inspiring her to suck Kyle in a way she would never suck Paul.

She gently licked his balls, rubbed her face on the underside of his shaft and then took him into her mouth again. She took as much of him in as she could, almost three quarters, and looked up into his eyes. He was looking right back at her, clearly enjoying the sight of his cock in her mouth. She worked her tongue under his shaft as she continued to hold him deep in her mouth, her eyes locked on his. Then she wrapped her hand around the base of his member and began sucking hard and fast.

Having seen him with those other girls, she knew he wouldn't cum. But that was okay. It meant she could suck him as long as she wanted. She was totally surprised a few minutes later when she felt his cock tensing and realized he was about to erupt. He gave a Herculean groan and threw his head back. A second later a hot gob of salty cum shot into her mouth, then another and then a third. She tried to swallow, but it was too much. She gagged and tried to swallow again, but the thick cock in her mouth made it difficult. She let him slip from her mouth as she tried to keep from gagging again. He took his cock in his own hand and stroked it, coaxing out one last spurt that fell across Debbie's cheek.

She knelt there, amazed that he had cum so easily for her. Her hand slipped under her skirt, pushed her panties aside and gave her clit the little bit of stimulation she needed to orgasm. Debbie held his cock in her other hand as warm pleasure rushed over her. She felt her own juices on her fingers as she continued to rub herself, savoring every last bit of the feeling. 

"Damn, Debbie," he said. "That was… that was…"

"Paul won't be home tonight, Kyle," Debbie said as she unbuttoned her blouse. She pulled open her top, enjoying the way Kyle's eyes fell on her breasts. She knew he preferred women with big tits, and she took the look on his face as a compliment. She stood and guided him over to the sofa, discarding her blouse on the way.

But when she reached up under her skirt to pull off her panties, Kyle stopped her.

"No, I uh…" he looked away. "I have someone coming over."

His words stung her like a slap. She had just given this bastard a blow job—still had his cum on her face—and he was going to send her home so he could fuck some other chickie?!?!

"Asshole!" she spat. "You knew that and you let me?"

"I tried to stop you," he replied as he buttoned up his jeans. "Can I help it if you turn me on?"

"Yeah, sure! You really tried!" Debbie felt like complete trash. Don't cry, she told herself. For God sakes, don't cry in front of him! "You fucking bastard!" She retrieved her blouse and slipped it on. But her hands were shaking and she couldn't button it. The frustration brought the tears closer. She turned away from him, so he wouldn't see them if they did fall.

"Look," said Kyle. "It's not like that. It's just…" His voice trailed off. Debbie knew there was nothing he could say that could change the awful feeling he had just given her. Just a few minutes ago she had been on her knees practically begging this arrogant prick to let her pleasure him! She had swallowed his cum! And now she was being told to leave so he could spend the night fucking someone else?

She felt cheap, dirty and thoroughly humiliated, but there was something else too. Something she didn't want to admit. Wasn't disappointment a factor as well? Sure, the arrogant bastard had used her, but wasn't that what Debbie had wanted? Yeah, he was planning on being with someone else later. So what? Debbie knew he was a womanizer, had seen him with several other women and that hadn't stopped her. The disappointment of not getting that massive cock of his inside her was hurting her at least as much as the slap to her pride. Yes, she had humbled herself to ask for it, but what really hurt was that now she wasn't going to get it.

With a tremendous effort of will, Debbie steadied her hands and buttoned her blouse. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to face Kyle. She wasn't sure exactly what she was going to say, even as the words left her lips.

"You're such a piece of shit for treating me like this," Debbie said quietly without looking at him.

Kyle's gaze was cast down at the floor. "I'm sorry," he offered weakly. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but nothing else came out. Debbie waited, just in case, but Kyle apparently had little to add. She was about to drop a final accusation on him and storm out when she heard the back door open behind her.

"What the fuck is this?" screamed a woman's voice behind her. Debbie whirled around and there was an older brunette standing in the doorway. Debbie recognized her immediately as the one Kyle had once brought to her husband's barbecues. 

"Who the fuck is she?" the woman yelled at Kyle, gesturing brusquely in Debbie's direction as she came through the door. "You can't keep it in your pants for one day, even when you know I can come over?"

Debbie watched as Kyle drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. His expression was blank, unreadable, but Debbie could see that the muscles of his jaw were clenched. He'd been caught in the act and Debbie would have liked to see him squirm, but he merely stood there, stone faced and silent. The other woman must have also realized that a frontal assault wasn't going to work on Kyle and turned her fiery eyes on Debbie.




Promises In the Dark



"Promises In the Dark"

I'd never have met Desirée if not for the rain. It was crazy rain, the kind of storm you get maybe once every couple of years, where it just pours buckets out of the sky and the wind whips so hard the rain practically comes at you sideways and the lightning makes the night seem like day for whole minutes at a time. Spring rain, warm rain, crazy rain. Desirée's kind of weather.

She walked into the bar soaking wet. She got a cat-call or two, probably would have gotten a lot more if the rain hadn't kept most people home. She was the kind of girl who loved to have an audience, though. I swear, she probably wished more people were there to look as she stood there dripping, her T-shirt practically transparent and her tan shorts soaked through to the skin. I could actually read the tattoo on her stomach straight through her shirt, the one that said 'Bad Girls Have More Fun'. Her raven-black hair was plastered to her head, her whole body was slick and damp with rain, but she grinned like the devil himself was inside her when she walked in. Something about that grin made me shiver inside.

The second I saw her, I knew I was in trouble. She had a body that was...lush. Voluptuous. She carried a little extra weight on her, but she was tall enough to pull it off, and she carried it in all the right places, making her hips swell into a wide delta that just made you want to run your hands along them and her breasts strain against the straps of her bra. She looked like an Amazon, a giantess, like she just swallowed skinny little dyke girls like me up in the valley between her thighs and wrung them out, then kept looking for more. She looked at me with those hooded, heavy-lidded eyes of hers like she was a cat and I was a mouse. It scared the hell out of me, but at the same time, I just had to have her.

What can I say? I have a thing for bad girls. If Desirée did break my heart, she wouldn't be the first.

I walked over to her and asked, "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

She smiled hungrily at me and looked straight at my tits. God, it felt like she was touching them with her stare. "Call me Desirée," she said. "'Ma'am' is for old ladies. As for what I want..." She smiled at me just long enough to make me imagine what she was going to say. "Just a place to sit and an Iron City, hon," she said. "I racked up my car about a quarter-mile back, skidded clean into the ditch and busted an axle. Tow truck's on its way, and I need to call for a ride home."

"Sure thing," I said. I led her back into a booth. No need to worry about who'd serve her--what with this storm, I was the only girl on tonight. Zack, the bartender, saw me heading across the dance floor with her and just laughed to himself. He knew me too well not to know what I was thinking. He also knew me too well to warn me about girls like Desirée. "My name's Priscilla. If you want anything more, just holler for me."

Desirée grinned and settled into her booth. "Oh, I surely will, hon."

She knew what I wanted, and I knew what she wanted. When I came back with her beer, she made sure to touch my fingers as I handed it to her, and I made sure to let her. It wasn't twenty minutes before she said to me, when I came back to collect the dead soldier, "Dang the luck. Can't seem to get a hold of my roommate. Can I have another Iron City while I wait?"

"Sure," I said. "And I tell you what. If you still haven't heard back from your friend by closing time, I'll give you a lift home. I can't leave a pretty girl like you to walk home on a night like this." I hadn't meant to flirt quite that openly--sure, I could tell she was gay or at least bi, but I was on the clock, and making passes at the female customers could get me in a little hot water if she decided to say anything about it. But that lazy, sexy stare she kept giving me as I crossed the floor was getting to me.

"Well, that's sweet of you, Priscilla," she said. "I hope it won't come to that, but I'll take you up on that offer." I hoped like hell her roommate wasn't home.

Closing time came a little earlier than we thought it would, that night. Somewhere around Desirée's fourth Iron City, the lights flickered, went out, came back, and finally died for good. Zack kept us going for a while, serving up drinks by flashlight and taking cash, but we got a call from Sam, the owner, about twenty minutes after the electricity died. "Power's out all over Austin," he said. "There can't be more than three people in the bar, and nobody's going out on a night like tonight. You kids drive slow, get home safe, and I'll go ahead and pay y'all like you were there 'til close."

I told Zack. He said, "I'll stay and clean up. You go ahead and get that little lady home safe." His face was the picture of innocence, but I knew what he was thinking. "Just make sure to bring in some pictures tomorrow." He ducked as I threw a towel at him, but he didn't have to tell me twice.

I went over to Desirée and said, "Looks like you got a little luck after all. I can take you home right now."

Desirée stood up. "Isn't that always the way of it?" she said, nothing but a voice in the dark but I could hear that wicked little smile of hers. "You go through a big run of bad luck and then all of a sudden, bam! You get lucky."

We laughed like banshees all the way out to my car, and the rain soaked my outfit clean through just from running across the parking lot. I hopped in, let Desirée into the passenger's side, and we got going.

I turned my windshield wipers on all the way, but even going as fast as they could, the rain battered down onto the glass in sheets and the headlights looked like they were just lighting up a wall of water. I couldn't drive more than ten miles an hour at best. Desirée told me where she lived, a little apartment complex up on San Jacinto, and then she didn't say anything for a little bit. She and I just listened to the rain beat down on the car roof like a drumbeat and felt the water drip down our bodies. The streetlights were out because of the power outage, and it felt like we were all alone together in the dark.

Then Desirée put her hand on my knee.

"Jesus," I said, "I'm driving here! You want us to crash?"

"So go ahead and drive a little slower," she said, her voice coming out almost like a growl. "Nobody's driving fast in this weather, you won't be rear-ended. And I don't want to wait to touch you one second longer." She slid her hand up a little, the rain making my skin slick to the touch so that her fingers were just gliding up my leg.

I slowed down to five, the car just edging along through the rain. "I..." Her skin felt warm against mine, heating it up where the drying rain had cooled it down. "I'm just not sure this is a good idea, that's all."

"But you like it that I don't care, don't you?" Desirée said back. She just kept moving that hand up, real slow. Already, I wanted to take it and jam it down the front of my dress, but I didn't dare take a hand off the wheel. "I could tell the second I laid eyes on you. You like the girls that scare you a little." Her hand was right up near the hem of my dress now. One finger teased just a little, inching just underneath the fabric. "Bad girls."

"I..." She was just a voice in the dark again, but I could picture just how she looked, sitting there in the passenger seat. I could see her eyes, dark and glittering and filled with lust, drinking in the expression on my face in the dashboard light. She didn't want me to say 'yes' just yet.

"But you're scared, aren't you? That's what makes it even hotter, knowing that I might be dangerous and not caring." My nipples were like little pebbles, pressing against the wet fabric of my T-shirt. I knew she must be able to see them, even in the darkness. "Or caring, and not being able to stop." Desirée's fingers weren't moving any further up, they were just making tiny circles on my thigh. "You're scared, but you're not scared enough to stop me."

"I...I just don't want us to get hurt, that's all." I wasn't sure whether I was talking about the driving or the sex.

Her hand slid under my dress in one smooth move, resting right up on my hip where it pressed against the seat. "Then I'll make you a promise."

I didn't know how much Desirée's promises were worth, but I didn't want to say that to her.

I didn't have to. I heard the smile in her voice even in the dark of the night. "Oh, I'm not saying you can trust me. We both know better. But I do keep my promises, Priscilla." I wished to hell I could look her in the eye right now, but I felt like I couldn't tear my eyes away from the road. I was just staring straight ahead, watching the windshield wipers sway back and forth and feeling my pussy get wet. "And I promise you this."

She leaned in close and whispered in my ear. "I promise I will never hurt you."

Her breath was warm and soft against my skin, and I could smell her. Not her perfume or anything; just the smell of wet flesh, close to my own. Desirée's scent. That was the first time I ever got close enough to smell her. I knew I'd have to get more before the night was out.

She didn't say much after that for the rest of the car ride. She didn't have to. She just kept touching me, letting her hands brush against my thigh or my shoulder or my hip or my nipple. I didn't say anything either, really. Not when I was trying so hard to concentrate on driving through the rain with those hands on me, trying to keep from totaling the car while my cunt just got so damn wet my panties were as see-through as my shirt. When we finally pulled into that parking lot, it felt like all I wanted to do was jill off right there in the car. But I didn't. Because I knew that it would feel so much better if I let Desirée do it.

We ran through the driving rain through the parking lot, hand in hand, and for all the good our clothes did us we might as well have been naked. Every time the lightning flashed, it lit Desirée up like a goddess, slick and shining in that crazy blue light and her clothes clinging to her like a second skin. We dragged each other into the building and she pulled me into the stairwell. "Elevator's out," she said. The emergency lights were on, and they gave just enough light for me to see the expression on her face, but not enough to see her eyes. They were like pools of night.

"I'm up on the second floor," she said. She leaned in, gently pushing me back up against the wall. She had a few inches of height on me, just enough that she was looking down into my eyes when she kissed me. I could feel her weight pressing into me, and it flashed through my mind in that instant that if I'd have wanted to push her off, I couldn't have. I didn't want to, but knowing that I couldn't made the kiss even better. Finally, she pulled away. "You know," she continued as if nothing had happened. "If you want to come up."

When we got upstairs, her apartment was almost as dark as the car had been. One candle was lit in the kitchen, and a girl was washing dishes by candlelight. She was a skinny girl just like me, but she had long red hair instead of short blonde like mine. She wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, either. She turned around when we came in, not even caring that she was giving us a full view of her snatch. A few soapsuds were the only things that stood between her and our eyes, and they didn't cover any of the important bits. "Hi!" she said. "Heck of a night out there!"

Desirée's eyes gleamed in the candlelight. "Priscilla, this is Constance, my roommate. Constance, this is Priscilla."

I didn't even know what to say. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty--maybe not exactly my type, but I wouldn't kick her out of bed for eating crackers, either. It was just so unexpected. I liked looking at naked girls as much as the next dyke, but I didn't expect to see them just wandering around the apartment. And if she felt free enough to just wander around Desirée naked, then did that mean that the two of them had a thing? How was I supposed to feel about that if they did? I knew I didn't feel jealous. Desirée had her hand on my ass, and the way she touched me made it pretty clear I was going to be the one in her bed tonight. But I didn't know if Constance was the jealous type, and I didn't want to be in the middle of a catfight. I could feel myself tense up a little.

Desirée must have felt it too, because her hand rubbed my ass in a way that made me remember just how much I needed her tonight. "It's alright, Pris," she said. "Constance doesn't mind." She didn't say exactly what Constance didn't mind, whether it was me staring at her shaved beaver or Desirée walking in with another girl or having to wash dishes in the middle of a thunderstorm. Her next words made it pretty clear she meant all those things. "I've got her well-trained."

Something about those words gave me a chill, but at the same time they made hot tingles run through my body. "She can't have been that well-trained," I said, wanting to show that I wasn't quite 'well-trained' yet. "She didn't answer the phone earlier, did she?"

"Oh!" Constance said, looking at the phone with an expression of dismay on her face. "You called? I'm sorry, I must not have heard the phone ring."

Desirée smiled. "It's okay, Constance, I didn't call you. You're still a good girl."

She smiled like Desirée had just given her a long sloppy lick right on her clit. I looked over at Desirée. "I thought you said you couldn't get a hold of her."

Desirée winked at me. "I also said you couldn't trust me, honey." She let her hand slide up to the small of my back. The heat of her went through my wet shirt like I was naked. "Besides, I only told you I couldn't get a hold of her. I didn't say anything about how hard I tried."

I had to laugh a little at that. I couldn't even say it surprised me, really. We'd both known why I was offering her a lift home, we'd both known why she was accepting it. And when she said, "Here, let me take you into the bathroom so you can get out of those wet things," we both knew what she really meant.

She didn't give me a chance to take off my own clothes. She just started peeling my T-shirt off of me, and I shivered at the sensation of the damp fabric clinging just a little to my flesh as she undressed me. "What about Constance?" I asked.

"I didn't promise you that you'd be the only girl in my life, Pris," she said. She gave a quick tug, and my skirt fell to the floor. "I won't make a promise I can't keep."

"I don't...I don't mean that." Maybe I did a little for a second, but her thumbs hooked under my panties, and I could feel her nearness as she knelt down and began to slowly pull them to my ankles. It made me feel like it didn't matter if I was the only girl in Desirée's life, just so long as I could be one of them. "I just meant..." I didn't know what I meant.

"I told you already," Desirée said, her breath hot against my cunt. It was all I could do not to buck my hips forward. "Constance doesn't mind. She'll give us all the privacy you want her to give us...however much that might be." My panties hit the floor. I think my jaw hit right along with it, but Desirée couldn't see that in the darkness. I knew what she was offering, and even if I wasn't sure if I was ready for it, part of me wanted it. "She's my good girl."

I heard her take her own clothes off, much quicker and more urgently than she did mine. "Come on," she said. "I'll take you into the bedroom and show you what I mean."

She took my hand and led me through the darkened hall. Frankly, I didn't see how she could show me anything in this pitch dark, but I was too horny now to ask questions. She could have said anything after 'I'll take you into the bedroom' and I would have agreed with it.

As it happened, though, she did show me. The storm was subsiding now, but there was still enough lightning flashing to light up the walls of her room, just a few seconds at a time. A flash here, and I noticed a whip hanging from a hook. A flash there, and I noticed a paddle hanging next to it. A flash lit up fur-lined handcuffs, gleaming in the night, and another lit up a ball gag like I'd only ever seen in 'Pulp Fiction'. I couldn't look fast enough, the shadows swallowed them up faster than I could take them in. I saw ropes and collars and double-ended dildos and clips and clamps and harnesses and plugs and crops and...

Desirée closed the door behind us. I shook my head, then realized that the lightning was becoming too infrequent now for her to see it. All the light was fading now, leaving us alone in the dark. "I...Desirée, I can't. I...I like girls, I like you, but...please. Don't ask me to do all this..."

"All this kinky shit?" she asked, her voice alive with silent laughter. She pulled me close to her. I could feel her body touching mine everywhere, now, warm damp flesh pressing against me. I shivered, but I didn't know if it was from arousal or fear. I'd wanted a bad girl, but... "You don't have to worry, Pris. Remember that promise?"

I remembered the promise, remembered the smell of her when she'd said it. She was even closer now, her scent even stronger. I felt like I was lost again, like if the lights were on she'd be able to see that same thousand-yard stare I had back in the car. "You'll never hurt me," I whispered in a little girl's voice.

"That's right, Pris," she said, stroking my hair. "I'll make you another one, too." She put her mouth to my ear again, speaking softly and gently. Intimately. "I promise you that you don't have to do anything you don't want to in this room."

She leaned back a little, but she was still close enough that I could smell her. "All you need to do is say to me, 'I really don't want to do this,' and I'll stop."

I relaxed a little into her arms. Her breasts were soft against my body, and all I wanted to do was lose myself in her for a while. Nothing weird, nothing kinky, just giving into that need for her touch and letting it carry me away.

She gently pressed me backwards onto the bed, and I lay back with a soft and gentle moan as her fingers stroked my nipples. "Of course," she said, "that still doesn't mean you can trust me, Pris." The deep, throaty purr in her voice made me squirm underneath her. "I'm still your bad girl, just like you're my good girl." I remembered Constance briefly, still in the kitchen doing Desirée's dishes, but then she put her hand right on the crease where my hip met my thigh, and that drove everything else out of my mind.

She leaned down and pressed her mouth to my nipple, sucking hard on it for a moment then letting it go. "I won't do anything in here you don't want me to do," she said, moving to the other nipple and giving it that same brief, intense kiss, "but that doesn't mean I won't make you want things."

I gasped. "W-what things?" I asked. I could hear the tremble in my voice, the absolute need.

"Everything." She took my hands in her own, raised them over my head. "Anything." She pressed them against each other, then pressed her left hand over them both. "Imagine it, Priscilla, and I'll make you want it." She slid her right hand back down to my body, stroking up and down my stomach. "Just imagining it makes you want it more, doesn't it?" Her grip on my hands wasn't strong, but I couldn't imagine pulling free of it. She was holding me just with the idea of holding me.

"And everything you imagine, everything you want just leads to something even better," she said. Her fingers circled around my nipples, stimulating the aureolae, moving back and forth from breast to breast. "You love the way it feels to be helpless, to be held and captured by my hands and touched and teased and tempted and not to be able to do a thing about it, don't you?"

"I..." My whole body felt like one big clit, every nerve so alive that I almost screamed when she touched me. Just a few seconds ago, I was worried about all those ropes and chains, but it was like her voice and her touches were just hypnotizing me, there in the dark. All I could do now was feel. All I wanted to do now was feel.




Promises In the Dark



She pinched my nipple, twisting it just a little. "Don't you?"

"Yes!" I cried out. I'd never imagined being helpless could feel this good, but I'd never imagined how helpless Desirée could make me. I wasn't just helpless to free my hands, I was helpless to stop feeling this good, helpless to disagree with her purring voice.

"Just imagine it, Pris," she said. "Imagine soft, velvet ropes holding your hands instead, holding your hands and your ankles so that both my hands could touch you." It was like she was touching me with both hands already; the idea was getting me so horny that I was already there in my head. Desirée was guiding my mind, telling me what to think and what to feel and it was getting me more turned on than I'd ever believed I could be.

"uh-huh," I panted out, my voice high and quiet.

"Ask me to tie you up, then." Desirée took her hand away from my body. All that I could feel was her hand holding my wrists, all that I could hear was the sound of my own breath as I panted with arousal.

"please," I whimpered.

"Please what, honey?" Desirée held her hand so close to my cunt that I could feel the warmth of it radiating off her, close but not quite touching.

"please tie me up," I said. I couldn't quite connect the person I was when I walked into the room with the person who was writhing and panting and begging to be tied up, it all felt so hazy in my head, but I just didn't care.

I felt Desirée's hand release me for a moment, and I trembled as I heard the sounds of her moving around the room. I felt light-headed and dizzy with arousal, and the scariest, sexiest thing of all was that she'd done exactly what she'd said she would. She'd made me want this. When I felt the ropes go around my wrists, it was the most erotic sensation of my life, and Desirée had made me want it. I knew she was going to make me want other things, then. Not just that she would tell me about them, but that I would give in to them, to wanting them. She'd just stroke and caress me with her words, with her hands, and I'd melt even easier next time.

I realized that I wanted to melt like that as she pulled the rope taut. My hands were bound together, bound to the bed and it felt so hot and sexy as she tied my ankles together too. "Does my good girl like this?" she asked, her voice just seeming to sink into my head.

"yes," I said. My thighs rubbed together as I struggled against the ropes--not because I wanted to get free, but because I was so fucking hot and struggling made me even hotter. The way the ropes refused to give when I pulled, the way my thighs rubbed together and sent little tingles right into my clitty, it just hammered at my mind and made me just want to say yes to anything Desirée said.

"And the more helpless you feel, the better you feel, right?"

"uh-huh," I moaned out. She was touching me again, and she was right, it was even better with both her hands on my body. I felt like I was a musical instrument, like she was playing me with every touch and caress, making a symphony of my whimpers and gasps and moans.

"You'd feel even more helpless if I gagged you, wouldn't you, Pris?" She ran her fingers gently over my lips, and I could taste my sweat on them. "Think how sexy that would feel, knowing that you couldn't say 'no' to me anymore, even if you wanted to." She stroked the crease of my thigh again, taking her fingers ever closer to my cunt. "That you'd be totally helpless." The index finger of her other hand traced the hollow of my throat. "Totally controlled." She leaned in, whispering in my ear again, so intimate in a way her touches could never be. "Totally mine."

I broke. Whatever self-control I had, whatever held me back from totally surrendering to her will just crumbled right then. I didn't care if she was dangerous, I didn't care if she'd spank me or fuck me or whip me or if I'd wind up washing her dishes in the nude someday. I didn't care that I wouldn't be able to say 'no', it wasn't a word I could imagine using anymore. Giving in so completely was kind of scary, but that just made it even hotter, and I heard myself gasping out, "please, please yes gag me please anything please make me yours control me oh god oh fuck oh..."

The silk scarf she tied around my mouth held me more thoroughly than the ropes ever could. It felt like it was holding my mind like the ropes were holding my body. She said, "You're my good girl now," and she probably didn't understand my response but she didn't need to. She knew I was saying 'yes' to everything. "You'll always be my good girl," and her fingers finally found my cunt as I moaned out another 'yes' through the gag. "You'll do anything I want, anything I ask, anything I need," and her fingers were inside me and all I could say was yes, all I could think was yes. I stopped even remembering what she said, I just knew as she finally let me cum that the answer was always yes.

I don't know how long it was, that first night, before she finally got tired of hearing me moan. All I know is that I was wrung out, and she was still looking for more. She called in Constance, but before the other girl got there, she leaned in and whispered one last thing in my ear.

"I promise you, Pris...I take good care of my girls."

The lights came back on around then. Desirée made me watch them.

*****

And that was how I met Desirée, on that crazy, wild night when the lightning flashed in sheets and the rain fell sideways. The night my whole life changed. The night I learned just how good it felt to belong to somebody.

Desirée still blindfolds me when we have sex, even now. So that I can still hear her voice, whispering to me in the dark.

THE END



Promises Kept



The next day.....

The next morning, Steve woke up and smiled. He thought he had been dreaming, when he reached down to his semi-hard cock, and realized it was covered with dried cum and pussy juice.

As he realized that it wasn't a dream, that he had participated in his favorite fantasy. As he replayed the night in his mind, he realized that he hadn't actually gotten his wish -- for Sue to lick Lynn's pussy in front of him.

Oh, it had been a fantastic evening. He watched two beautiful women pleasure each other, but Sue hadn't actually gone down on Lynn. Lynn had devoured Sue's sex, and they had stroked and massaged each other passionately. But something was missing.

He reached over for the phone, and called Sue. She answered slowly, as he woke her from her own dream of the night before. "Good morning lover," she answered. "Hello sexy," he replied. As they discussed the night they had spent together, Steve said, "For all the fun we had, you didn't keep your promise." 

Sue realized that he was right. She hadn't actually licked Lynn's pussy for him (and her). The night had been a blur of arms and legs, tits and ass, and Steve's incredible cock.

"So what do you want to do about that?" "You told me this was a once in a lifetime experience, and now it's over." 

"Call Lynn and see how she's doing this morning."

"What should I say?" 

"Tell her that the night was incredible, but there was one thing missing to make it complete. Ask her if she wants to complete the fantasy."

As Steve continued, he complimented Sue on the night they had shared, and assured her that it was her he loved, and that the moments they shared the night before were the icing on the cake of the fantastic sexual compatibility they shared. Lynn was their very good friend, and Steve could see that even though Sue was "strictly dickly" as she put it, she had some experience in playing with the fairer sex. She was slightly bi, and that turned Steve on even more.

Sue said she would call Lynn and see how she felt about another visit with Steve. Based on the night before, she was pretty sure the answer would be yes, but she didn't want to make it a habit. She wanted Steve's body to herself, and didn't like to share. But this was her idea, and she needed to see it through to keep the promise.

Steve hung up and continued to lay in bed, slowly stroking his cock. As he continued to remember the delicious night before, the stroking became more intense. As he remembered the moment when Sue lowered herself onto his cock, he erupted, spraying his cum all over the sheets, and wished Sue was there to play some more.

Sue stopped by to see Lynn, and they began to share their thoughts on the night before. They agreed that their friendship was primarily platonic, but the added catalyst of Steve's lust put them both over the edge.

When Sue mentioned the promise she had made to Steve, Lynn realized that in the heat of the moment, they had forgotten to give Steve his wish. She agreed that they should make good on their deal, and that another "once in a lifetime" experience was OK with them. As they both laughed, they began to plan the next visit. 

With some scheduling sleight of hand, they arranged to get a room at a nearby hotel. Their plan was to surprise Steve, by arranging a night out with Sue, and Lynn would show up at the door, wearing nothing but a smile and a raincoat.

The night began by Sue and Steve checking into the hotel with their small suitcase, stuffed full of toys and lube to make the evening special. As soon as the door closed, Steve dropped the suitcase and turned to give Sue a deep probing kiss. His lust increased, and he grabbed her ass as they kissed. 

"Fuck me like you own me," she said. 

Steve knew that one of Sue's fantasies was to be taken and used by a lust filled man. As he put his hands up inside her top, he unsnapped her bra and fondled her beautiful tits. He then ran his hands down the back of her slacks, and fondled her firm ass under her panties. Unsnapping her pants, he pulled them down to reveal her sex. As he moved close to her clit, he took liberties, and gave it a few light licks. Sue began to convulse, as if her clit was being stimulated by an electric current. Having played with herself several times that day in anticipation of this night, she was ready.

He then told her to turn around and put her hands up against the wall. She knew he was going to fulfill one of her favorite fantasies, to be used as a woman should be -- to give a man pleasure.

Hands against the wall, she leaned forward, her bare ass cheeks jutting out suggestively. Steve couldn't wait, and dropped his pants, freeing his now hard cock from the confines of his pants. 

As he reached around her waist, he stroked her pussy, expecting that she would need some stimulation to get things going. He was wrong. She was sopping wet, ready and waiting for his cock.

Steve grabbed her ass cheeks in each hand, and began to lean forward. Sue reached between her legs, and guided his throbbing cock into her waiting snatch. As he entered her, she moaned with pleasure. She began rubbing her clit, while Steve pistoned his cock in and out of her wet tight pussy. 

Sue began to come, and shuddered as orgasm after orgasm washed over her. Her legs began to give out, and Steve held her up as he continued to fuck her, searching for his own orgasm. Finally, he came, and leaned forward to hold and hug her. As they came down to earth, they slowly made their way to the bed, exhausted.

After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. Sue got up to answer the door, and announced, "We have a visitor." 

Steve threw a towel over his semi-hard cock, and a broad smile spread across his face when he saw their friend Lynn. "What's up with this?" he said.

Lynn said "Sue told me that we didn't keep up our end of the bargain. I'm here so that we can keep our promise." 

Steve couldn't believe his good fortune. This was quite a surprise. He half expected that his fantasy would never totally come true.

Steve's eyes widened when he saw that Lynn was only wearing a raincoat, and nothing on underneath.

As Sue began to undress Lynn she said "You lay there and watch." 

Lynn laid down on the bed next to Steve, as Sue began to slowly massage Lynn's back with some massage oil from the suitcase. As she straddled Lynn's back, she looked at Steve and said "How's this?" 

"Oh my god." Steve said, as his hardon began to stir.

As Sue stroked Lynn's ass, Lynn spread her legs a bit, to give better access to her ass and pussy. Sue drizzled a bit more oil down the crack of Lynn's ass, and began to gently stroke, lower and lower, until she reached the top of Lynn's pussy lips. 

Lynn began to quietly moan, as she began to get wetter and wetter. 

"Time to turn over," Sue said, and Lynn slowly turned, in anticipation of what was to come. 

Sue continued the massage, and stroked Lynn's firm chest and neck. They shared a few deep kisses and hugs. Sue slowly ran her tongue from down Lynn's torso, until she was positioned directly above Lynn's wet and waiting pussy. She stopped.

She looked at Steve, who was staring at the sight before him. "Promises kept." she said, and moved lower and began to lick and probe at the wet pussy before her. It was both a strange and exciting experience for Sue -- not something she "needed", but something that was certainly different and exciting. She was keeping her promise to Steve, and at the same time giving herself a fulfilling erotic experience.

As she lapped at Lynn's writhing cunt, she slipped a finger between Lynn's ass cheeks, and began to rub at Lynn's puckered hole. As she slowly entered Lynn's ass with her finger, Lynn began to quiver. Fingers in every hole, a wet tongue, and a great friend pleasuring her, she came over and over again, drenching Sue's face with her cum.

Steve couldn't take it anymore. He moved over next to Sue's head, and began to kiss Lynn's inner thighs. Sue looked at him, and he kissed her deeply. As they shared their kiss over Lynn's wet labia, he whispered again, "Thank You."

The remainder of the night was a blur of sex, fantasy, and fulfillment. 

But that's for another time... 



Promises Kept



Strong hands grab my hips and roughly pull me backwards. My back hits a hard body and even harder erection. A nose nuzzles my hair and I shiver. I know exactly who it is. He has been promising to fuck me senseless since the first day I met him. My roommate's cousin -- a seriously hot and thoroughly erotic man. He grinds my ass into his rigid length. His promises began the day I moved into the apartment. What started out as a teasing "I bet we'd be great in bed together" gradually became "I can't wait to taste you" then "I'm going to take you all night long" and finally, last night it was "I'm going to fuck you so hard and well that you won't be able to walk for a week!" Oh how I've wanted him! And now here he was, in my room, with my roommate gone for the weekend, leaving the two of us alone.

He kisses my neck, breathing me in deeply, as his hands travel up from my hips to my waist. His warm breath tickles my ear as he whispers "It's time for me to make good on my promises," before he whips me around to face him. I get a momentary glimpse of lust darkened eyes before his mouth descends on mine. The kiss is hot and passionate and makes my nipples harden. He palms my backside and I slide my hands up his well-muscled chest, resting them on his pecks. His nipples are as hard as my own and I can't help but smile a little. He takes advantage of my parted lips and thrusts his tongue into my mouth. He swallows the moan that rises from my throat. His tongue swirls around my mouth. My head swims and I can't think. His hands are a revelation in themselves. I can feel their rough, calloused skin slide under my shirt, lightly scraping me. They come to a rest right under my breasts, kneading the flesh there. I desperately want to feel them palming my mounds, pinching my already hard nipples. His thumbs are making small circles, gradually working their way under my bra.

I slide my hands from his chest to his neck and pull him harder into the kiss. I need to feel his skin against mine, need him inside me. Instead, he pulls away. I gasp and look up at him confused. He simply smiles devilishly and grabs the bottom of my shirt. In a swift motion he removes the piece of cloth then lunges for my neck. The feel of his lips on the sensitive skin of my throat causes me to groan with need. I arch my back, pressing my chest against his. I feel his hands tracing my spine. He reaches my bra and has no problem releasing the clasp. In seconds my breasts are bared to him for the first time. He steps back, fully removing his body from mine, to peruse my naked form. I shiver from the cold air now kissing my skin, and from the heated look in his eyes. I can't tell which is giving me goose-bumps. My heart beats a frantic tattoo and my breath can't seem to find a rhythm. A slow, sensual smile grows on his lips. He motions with his hand for me to spin for him. I oblige, a little confused. I'm never one to give up control, not even in the bedroom, but for some reason I know, without a doubt, that I will do whatever this man demands of me. I find this sensation both worrying and thrilling. As I complete my turn, I look up into his eyes. The deep desire that is reflected there astounds me. My panties are soaked, and I can't wait to have them off.

He grasps the hem of his t-shirt and slowly pulls it over his head, never taking his eyes off me. The view of his torso, all lean muscles and smooth skin, makes me want to run my hands and tongue all over him. I ache to see what he has in store for me. He crooks his finger in a come-hither motion and I find myself being drawn to him, almost involuntarily. It is as if my body has taken over, ignoring my brain's rationality. I close the distance between us quickly. He smiles again and my heart rate picks up. He grasps the back of my neck with one hand and the belt loop of my jeans with the other and pulls me to him. His lips on mine are firm and hot, and his tongue drives me insane with lust. He kisses down to my neck and sucks. His hands move in tandem, one down, the other up, meeting on my breasts. I gasp as he pulls both my nipples. His lips and talented tongue move downward, over the curve of one of my breasts to suck my nipple. The sensation nearly drives me to my knees. Pleasure beyond anything I have ever felt courses through my body. The rough texture of his tongue combines with the wet warmth of his mouth and the feeling is extraordinary. I moan uncontrollably. He sucks hard then bites down. I cry out, my juices now flowing down my thighs. He quickly moves to my other breast and sucks and bites. His hands move down to my jeans, and in seconds I am completely bare.

He shifts to his knees, fully removing my pants and panties. I tangle my fingers in his hair. He looks up at me with a devilish grin. His hands grasp my ass cheeks and pull me forward. I hear him breathe deeply and moan. He looks up again and slowly licks his lips. I feel myself trembling all over, in anticipation of what is to happen. He doesn't keep me waiting long. Once again he pulls me forward and I almost stumble. He steadies me, holding on to my hips with his strong hands. Just as I regain my balance, I feel his slick tongue slide along my folds. I moan, wanting to writhe, but not risking it. I don't want to fall over and lose contact with that hot organ. His tongue licks me relentlessly. He plunges into my depths with no hesitation. He is still holding on to me, and I am eternally grateful, because if he wasn't, I would be flat on the floor. His tongue is making me light headed. But he is staying away from the place I so desperately want him. He licks everywhere but my clit. My bundle of nerves has always been so incredibly sensitive, and more often than not I need to have it rubbed or sucked to get off. I don't know if he knows this, all I know is that he is driving me insane with need. I start to moan in complaint. He doesn't remove his tongue from my pussy, but simply raises his eyes. He lifts an eyebrow.

"Suck my clit!" I exclaim. He simply smiles and, keeping eye contact, licks me from my asshole right up to just below my clit. I groan and resist the urge to stamp my foot. He licks me again, this time harder. I think I know what he wants, but I don't know if I want to beg him, at least not this early on. His continued licking, and avoidance of my clit, has me so desperate to cum that I seriously contemplate begging. I assume he saw the indecision (mixed with the need) on my face because he sits back a little, breaking contact. I groan and try to force him back, but he's strong. With a shake of his head he removes my fingers from his hair. He looks at me with a smirk that is at once sexy and annoying. I silently vow to myself to wipe that smirk off his face before the night is over. He is just looking at me, smirking, so I growl "What?" which causes his smirk to grow into a grin.

"Beg me," he whispers.

"Excuse me?" I feign shock, raising my hand to my chest.

"You heard me," he says, more forcefully. "Beg me. I want to hear you beg for me to suck on your clit. In fact, I want you to beg me all night long." The prospect of actually telling him what I want, begging for it, has me hotter and wetter than I would have every thought possible. I know I will do it, but I still want to play for a little while.

"And if I don't?" I ask. "You want me bad, and I seriously doubt you would leave here without a little satisfaction." He doesn't seem mad, doesn't get up, simply looks at me. But I see something shift in his eyes. They become more heated. I figure out that he likes a little defiance, so I notch it up a bit. I take a step back and put my hands on my hips.

"I refuse to beg for something that you will probably give me anyway," I say, reasonably sure of his response. He confirms my assumptions. He growls low, causing me to shiver with arousal. The look in his eyes is positively wild. He reaches for me, and I take another step back. The backs of my knees hit my bed and I almost fall over. Apparently balance is not my forte today. He sits back on his haunches for a second and looks at me appraisingly. Then he grins widely.

"You will beg me," he states simply. "You will beg me immediately, because I know you want me just as much as I want you. And right now you want to cum so badly you can taste it." He advances on me on his hands and knees, and I have nowhere to go. "You know I can make you scream louder and cum harder than you ever have." He reaches me, still on his knees. He pushes me and I land on my back on the bed. I struggle to my elbows as he spreads my legs wide. He licks my inner thighs, avoiding my now dripping pussy. I whimper. I can't help it, I want him so badly. Then he licks my pussy, forcing his tongue far into my hole. I'm shaking uncontrollably. He lifts his head again and whispers across my hot flesh "Beg me." I shake my head. He licks me again, holding my legs far apart with a firm grip on my thighs. "Beg me, now," he says, more forcefully. I whimper and try to shake my head again, but he plunges two fingers into my desperate pussy, and I cry out instead. His mouth is so close to my clit, and his fingers are sliding hard in and out and I give in.

"Please! Oh god, please!" I scream out.

"Please what?" he demands.

"Please lick my clit! Suck it! Bite it! Oh god, please make me cum!" There, I begged. I expected him to comply right away, after getting what he wanted, but he doesn't. Instead he keeps up his digital assault, breathing on my clit. I snap my head up, furious that he would continue to deny me. As soon as we lock gazes, he drops his head. I feel his mouth close around my clit, and I can't look away. He sucks on my hard nub, and I feel his tongue dancing over it. I groan and moan and buck wildly, unable to move my gaze from his. His fingers pick up the pace and he bites down gently. My orgasm comes crashing down upon me, and I gush. I'm panting and can't seem to catch my breath. He hasn't stopped. I feel his fingers continuing to pump in and out of me, and his mouth, tongue and teeth are still pleasuring my sensitive clit. Moments after my first orgasm, I feel another building. This one promises to be far more explosive than the previous one. In seconds it breaks over me, and I gasp. I see white lights pop in my vision as his mouth and fingers carry me to heights previously unknown. And still he continues. Just as I think I can't cum anymore, my body shuddering at an alarming rate, he slows, and comes to a stop.

He sits back on his haunches, breaking contact. I flop back onto the bed and close my eyes. Exhaustion threatens to consume me. I feel the bed shift. My eyes open. He has come to rest beside me, propped up on one elbow, and the grin on his face is one of pure self-satisfaction. He got me to beg and plead, and then he blew my mind with not one, but two fantastic, earth-moving orgasms. The grin is just a little too cocky for me. He brushes a lock of hair from my eyes and cups my cheek. Then he lowers his head and kisses me. It is gentle and surprisingly tender. He raises his head again. His thumb brushes my overheated cheek while he simply looks into my eyes. My breath catches as I see the hunger returning. But under all that desire I see something else, or at least the beginning of something. I think I know what it is, but before I have a chance to fully think about it, that cocky grin returns. It starts to annoy me. I decide that payback is due.

I push on his shoulder, hard, and catch him off-guard. He tumbles to his back. I straddle his waist, fully aware that my juices are flowing all over his sexy abs. I brace myself on my hands to the sides of his head and lean down. I kiss him hard, using gravity to my advantage. I writhe over his body. He groans and grasps my hips. He pushes until my pussy is over his still-jeans-covered cock. I grind my hips, keeping the kiss hot and passionate. He thrusts up. The friction of his jeans against my sensitive slit has me moaning loudly. I move my lips from his, down over his strong jaw to his neck. I bite and suck the skin there, causing him to moan. He thrusts harder. I sit back up and smile down at him. I figure my smile must have been on the feral side because he suddenly looks at me warily. My plans run through my head and I practically sigh. I waste no more time and shimmy down his body until my feet touch the floor. He sits up and reaches for me. I back away, kneel and shake my head.

"Now it's time for a little payback, sir," I say, barely recognizing the husky voice that emanates from my throat. He looks at me a little shocked. I take advantage of his confusion and reach for his belt buckle. In record time I have his pants off and thrown into some distant corner of my room. The size and hardness of his erection makes my mouth salivate and my breathing erratic. He is longer than I anticipated (and fantasized about). He is hard as steel, and there is a drop of pre-cum at the tip. I take hold of his rigid length. He moans as my fingers attempt to close around him. I barely make it. I pump up and down once, and he groans, moving his hips. I tell him to stop moving, and he does, but very reluctantly. Judging by the look in his eye, I will pay for commanding him like this. But I don't care.

I know it's all worth it as I lower my head and take him into my waiting mouth. I struggle to take in the full length of him. I lick him and suck, using my hand to pump where I can't reach. He tastes so manly, perfect. I shiver hard, thinking about having this hard appendage pounding in and out of my pussy. So I suck harder, changing the pace at irregular intervals. I intersperse the hard sucking with base to tip licking. I know he's close because he's writhing and cursing softly. I lick down the length of him to suck his balls. I lick them, tease them, lightly graze my teeth over them. He shudders and says my name hoarsely. I move back to his thick, stiff prick and take the whole long shaft into my mouth. I feel him at the back of my throat and try not to gag. I suck hard all the way up, my cheeks hollowing with the effort. At the very tip I lick the slit. He shudders again as I take him back into my mouth. He grabs my hair, hard, and bucks his hips once, twice. He shouts and cums, filling my mouth with his hot semen. I swallow as much of it as I can, but there is too much. Some dribbles down to the bed, and more down my chin. I still have him in my mouth as he comes down. After he finishes, I lick up everything that I missed.

I sit back a bit, revelling in my ability to make him cum. It gives me great pleasure to know that I could give him even a modicum of satisfaction that he just gave me. His cock is still semi-erect. The ache between my thighs has returned with a vengeance. Just as the thoughts of what lay ahead begin to flitter through my brain, he sits up and grabs me roughly by the arms. He flings me on the bed and flips me over, so that I'm lying flat on my stomach. He leans over me, his growing erection lying hot on my lower back. I feel his breath tickle my ear. He whispers "Now it's my turn!" I have only a second to even begin to comprehend the implications. He grabs my hips and pulls me up to my knees. He is still leaning over me, so I struggle to get up on my hands. But he is having none of it. He "tut-tuts" and forces me back down with a firm hand. It seems he wants me to keep my upper body firm to the mattress, while my ass sticks up in the air. The anticipation of having him buried deep inside me from behind makes me moan and writhe beneath him. I feel him shift backwards a bit. Then I feel his hot length rubbing between my ass cheeks. It turns me on so much, I moan. He slides his hard cock further. His hands grip my hips harder. He slides between my legs. I feel him slide against my sensitive clit and I moan, again. He coats his dick in my free-flowing juices. He shivers above me, and I wonder if he is thinking about what is to come too. I struggle to turn my head to look at him, but I can't. He raises himself up a bit and I breathe a little easier. Just as I inhale a big lungful of sweet air, he plunges into me.

My breath whooshes out of my body. He is so big and fills me so completely. I feel weak with the desire for him. Then he begins to move. The feeling is so incredible that I can't help but moan and writhe. He starts up a slow, mind-numbing rhythm. I quickly match him thrust for thrust, wanting desperately to cum. But he thwarts my plans. He pulls out completely. I groan in protest, but he just grins. Then he runs his hand down my body and finds my sensitive nub. He rubs and I whimper. He has me close, but is holding back. I decide to take matters into my own hands, so to speak. I reach out and grasp his cock. He pulses and thickens in my hand, and it's my turn to grin. His eyes are shut, the look on his face a cross between pleasure and pure torture. I giggle a little. His eyes snap open, and now he looks pissed and amused. I figure he has thoughts of retribution on his mind, but I've been stroking him, and judging by his ragged breath and the sweat on his forehead, I think he's as close to cumming as I am. I smile triumphantly. I tug on his dick and guide him to my pussy. He puts up little resistance, probably because I have such a firm grip on him. He looks like he is about to protest, but I wrap my legs around his waist and thrust my hips up, taking all of him into me at once.

We both let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. The power struggle between us ceases for the moment, as we take a moment to appreciate the joining of our bodies. I move my hips slightly, urging him on. He takes the hint and starts another slow pounding. He shifts forward a bit. With this new angle, my clitoris rubs against the base of his cock. The sensation is blindingly glorious. He ups the pleasure by pulling on one of my nipples. He pinches hard. I arch my back involuntarily, and he looks supremely pleased with himself. I curse him, and he just laughs. I squeeze my inner muscles, wiping the grin off his face. He picks up the pace. He slams into me with such amazing force that I think the bed is moving. I'm not sure if it is, because I can't think about anything beyond his amazing cock. He abandons my nipple to better balance himself. He places his hands to either side of my head and pounds into me relentlessly. I can't find my breath. I gasp and sputter, wanting nothing more than to cum. He's grunting and breathing heavily. I finally catch my breath, and all I can do is moan his name, over and over again. I feel the sublime peak nearing. His rhythm breaks and he thrusts into me wildly. My orgasm crashes over me with incredible force. The breath I just found gets lost again. I'm screaming his name so loudly I know I won't have a voice tomorrow. Suddenly, he let's out hoarse shout and I feel jets of his cum shoot into me. I loose track of time as wave after wave of pure pleasure wash over me. It's the longest orgasm I've ever had.

As our orgasms end, he slumps forward. His body pins mine to the bed and he lets out a satisfied groan. I know I have a ridiculous smile on my face, but I can't help it. He props himself back up on his elbows, leaning over me. His grin matches mine. He bends his head toward mine, and captures my mouth in another earth-moving kiss. He breaks the kiss and rolls onto his back beside me, pulling me along with him. I'm curled up beside him, when he looks down to me.

"Told you I keep my promises," he says, sounding very pleased with himself.

"Well, I've got to tell you, I keep my promises too," I say, a sly grin spreading on my face. "And right now I promise you this isn't over." I swing my leg over his body and straddle him, ready for more.



Promises, Promises



She opened the door and invited him into her hotel room. Emily and Jerome had been chat pals and phone lovers for over a year. Today they finally meet. He was handsome in an adorable way, well-built and nicely dressed. She was pleasant-looking, no one you would particularly notice on the street. He walked into the room, closing the door behind him. After a momentary nervous pause, he took the step closer to her and kissed her mouth. Her eyes closed and she lost herself in his feel and smell. Emily had driven across country to meet him, to be with him. Now she was.

They stood together kissing, holding each other, learning the feel of skin and curves. Soft and hard molded together, hands searched and found, hearts beat together. When the kiss ended, they were reluctant to part. He looked down at her, her sweet face, and was glad they were meeting. Jerome wasn't sure what he had expected. Perhaps a wilder-looking woman, one who would fulfill his fantasies. Emily looked like an older Donna Reed, every inch a lady. He would have to rein in his dreams and be content to spend an afternoon kissing and cuddling, which was all they had planned for today anyway.

They stood together, nearly behind the door, holding and kissing. He found her lips deliciously soft and moist. She lost herself in his kiss, feeling her entire being sinking into the now of being in Jerome's arms. Long minutes passed. Jerome looked up and saw the comfy couch, a little sitting area, just behind them. He walked Emily over to the couch, sitting down and pulling her close. She leaned against him, already feeling bereft of his mouth on hers. They continued kissing, Bodies together, her full breasts pressed to his chest, his hand moving slowly up and down her back. 

He was still dressed from the office in a dark suit, light blue shirt and somber tie. He slipped off his polished loafers as they kissed, wishing he didn't have so many layers of clothing between them. Emily was dressed in jeans and a light blouse, her bare feet small and pretty, her tiny toenails polished a bright pink. 

They would occasionally stop kissing to say something, ask something. But their lips kept returning, the need to taste each other was overwhelming. Her hair was short and soft, and Jerome ran his hands through it, loving the feel. Her eyes were a dark brown, deep and gentle, "bedroom eyes" they were called. Sometimes, they would stop kissing long enough to look into each other's eyes, smiling and pleased to be together. 

Jerome stretched out on the couch, taking Emily with him. Now she was atop him, her bare feet barely reaching his knees as they continued kissing and their hips began a dance of need. Her soft breasts were squashed between them, her hard nipples indenting his chest, even through his clothing. 

Finally, Emily pulled back and invited him to get comfortable. She scurried to the end of the couch and smiled as he removed his jacket and tie. He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a patch of curly reddish-brown hair. She watched, licking her lips, as he rolled up his shirt sleeves, again exposing skin covered with fine copper hair. 

Jerome returned to the couch, smiling as Emily unabashedly scooted down to him, her mouth already seizing his. God, she could kiss! Her mouth molded to his, her tongue explored every bit of his lips and mouth. He felt her softly entering him, then shyly pulling back, only to probe deeply again. She licked his lips, tracing them, softly teasing the corners, making him moan slightly. He wasn't sure if an afternoon of kissing would be possible. He was already erect and dripping, wanting her badly.

Emily, again, was the one to pull back. "I think we might be more comfortable on the bed, it is roomier and there are lots of pillows. Would you care to join me?"

Jerome's cock answered for him, throbbing and bobbing. He smiled at her, taking her hand and following her past the arch, into the bedroom. She had lit candles, and the scent of cream filled the air. The radio on the nightstand was tuned to an oldies station and the song playing reminded him of his college days. They sat on the edge of the bed, hands touching, lips locking, and began again. She was still fully dressed and it appeared her plan was to remain that way. She pulled him back with her, lying stretched out beside him, now feeling his erection through his dress pants. Her hand slowly moved down his body, seeking his manhood, anxious to touch him. He rolled to his back, sighing, hoping her hand would continue its caress. He couldn't remember ever being so excited. Yet, she was a good girl and he didn't want to scare or offend her. She had asked for an afternoon of kissing, saying it was all she was prepared for, and he had promised.

He decided to allow her whatever she wanted, and to keep his word. There would always be another day and he didn't want to ruin his first time with her. Emily was kissing his neck, unbuttoning his shirt further. Her mouth moved down his chest, licking and leaving a damp trail. She pushed his shirt opened, finding his pale nipples and capturing one in her mouth. With the first pull, Jerome cried out. It was so incredibly sensual. Women didn't seem to know men had sensitive nipples and rarely spent time there. But Emily did. She was atop him, her mouth busily moving back and forth, sucking and nursing, enjoying the response she was creating. Then his shirt was opened and she helped him remove it, enjoying the freedom of touching him everywhere, feeling his smooth back, massaging his shoulders. 

She slid from him, lying again stretched out alongside his body, her heat warming him. Her fingers moved constantly, touching and learning. Jerome wondered once again if it were possible to just kiss this woman all afternoon and keep his promise.

Her fingers returned to his erection. She lightly traced him in his clothing, causing his cock to dance against her. Without Jerome even noticing, Emily had his fly opened and her little hand slid into his pants, capturing his throbbing dick. He looked down into her innocent face, and saw the look of satisfaction there. Her hand moved constantly. She certainly knew about cocks. He relaxed and closed his eyes, again vowing to make this experience exactly what she wanted. He felt her hot hand leave his cock, and then felt his pants and shorts being pulled down and off. Now, she was fully dressed and he was naked, with a massive erection, aching to be touched.

She moved down his body, her eyes only inches away from the throbbing cock. He ccould feel her hot breath, rapid and shallow. Looking up at him, she smiled. "Teach me, Jerome. Take my hand and show me the way to pleasure you, please?"

Jerome couldn't believe his ears. He looked into her sweet, very good-girl face and then saw her hand hovering above his dick, waiting for instruction. He pulled a few pillows under his head and reached down, circling the cock with his hand. He slowly massaged it as he had for years, his favored technique. She watched intently, then replaced his hand with hers. "Like this?" she asked. 

He almost couldn't talk, the pleasure was so overwhelming. He had never met a woman who cared if she massaged him correctly, so intent on his pleasure. With very little instruction, Emily was touching him exactly as he enjoyed. Her face remained near his center, her hands moved busily on his cock and balls. 

Jerome felt himself quickly reaching orgasm. He wasn't sure if this was something she wanted. He slipped his hand into her soft hair, called her name. She turned to him and smiled. "It is ok, I want you to come, I want to see it. Please, come for me, Jerome."

That was it. He erupted, spraying hot come all over her innocent hand and his tummy. She held him, massaged him, until the spasms stopped, then quietly went to the bathroom for a warm, wet cloth. Returning, she gently cleansed his cock and skin, kissing him as she worked.

Even her clothing excited him. The feel of her jeans on his naked thighs, her breasts covered in layers of fabric. She was a good girl, and he wanted to honor his promise. They snuggled together, kissing and holding, talking more now about the time they had known each other and what they wanted. Without him asking, she unsnapped her jeans and wriggled out of them. While kissing, he opened a button on her shirt and she didn't stop him. Slowly, he opened them all, inhaling her sweet scent. She wrapped her bare legs around his, bringing her very wet panties in contact with his thigh. She was moaning softly in her throat, rubbing against him, lost in the desire she felt.

Her hand moved once again to his cock, still softly asleep against his balls. He started to explain to her that he needed some time, when a miracle occurred. His cock stirred and came to life, throbbing to engorgement as she touched him. She smiled at him, kissing him lightly on the lips. "Would you like to fuck my mouth, Sir? I am hungry for your cock, I want to taste you. Actually, I need to taste you, and I would love for you to fuck my good-girl mouth. I am so ready for you." She slid further down in the bed, opening her lips, offering him her mouth to fill. And he did. He couldn't stop himself. It was so incredibly naughty to look down at her, and hear those words, hear her begging. His cock was stretched to capacity, and she was having trouble getting it all into her little mouth. But she was persistent. Her fingers massaged his balls and pulled him closer, intent on taking all of him.

Jerome's hips were swaying above her face. His cock was thrusting deeply down her willing mouth and his balls were tight and hard again. This was unbelievable. Hearing those words come from her mouth, her sweet innocent face, was indescribably naughty and erotic. Amazed, he felt ready to come again. He slowed his thrusts. Emily looked up at him, nearly frantic. 

"Jerome, I want to be fucked. I want to feel your thick cock inside me, your fat head probing me, opening me, using me. Would you fuck me, please?" She turned and quickly climbed up the bed, resting her head on the pillows, offering her panty-clad ass to him. She spread her legs, reaching down and pulling her panties to one side. He could see her face, hear her words, smell her excitement. He slid up behind her, grabbing her swaying hips and holding her in place. Her hand reached between her thighs, wrapping around his erection. She guided him quickly to her brown curlies, using the smooth, fat head to separate the curls and find the engorged slit. She held him very still and then thrust back against him, burying his cock deep inside her. She screamed with pleasure, turning her face into the pillows to muffle the sound.

Jerome probed her pink depths, quite sure he had never felt such silky heat in his entire life. They set up the perfect rhythm, in and out, up and down, deep then shallow. All the while, he could hear her, hear his sweet woman, muttering about his fat cock, his heat, his cock in her cunt, his cunt now. She said she loved the fat head, the way it probed her then popped out, only to fuck her again. He was inflamed with desire. Finally, he held still, feeling the need to explode overwhelming him. At that exact moment, she clenched her muscles, pulling him deeper, making the space tighter and hotter. That was it. He came. He held her hips tightly and filled her with come, throbbing inside her until he couldn't remain there any longer. 

She collapsed on the bed and he crawled up to her, cradling her against his shoulder and side. They kissed again. Once more, she looked like his sweet angel, her hair softly tousled, her lips puffy and pink. 

So much for promises.

THE END.... 



Promises, Promises



It's been a long week. Friday has finally arrived and we're able to relax and spend some time together. We're dancing around the kitchen preparing supper together; or you are trying to prepare it. I'm trying to be helpful, but seem to be succeeding only getting in your way. You've scowled at me, flicked the dishtowel against my breasts, and slapped my bottom with a wooden spoon. I can't help but wonder about the way this evening will end.

"Girl, if you don't let up, I'm gonna' have to whoop your ass," you say with a raised eyebrow. 

I've heard that before. It's always been an idle threat and nothing has ever come of it. It's become part of a verbal volleyball game. In a gentle and playful way, comments like that let me know where you stand on different things. It's a fun way of communicating about sometimes difficult issues. If it was the only way we communicated, especially about difficult issues, I would be nervous and uncomfortable. But we also talk deeply and seriously about all of the things that are important to us, even the difficult issues. 

I wonder why the fantasy of spanking holds a certain level of appeal for me as an alternative sexual experience. I think it might have more to do with control than either pain or punishment. In either case, I know that the thought of you bending me over your knee is very erotic. It does turn me on. I find my body responding to the mere idea of it. I can only imagine how hot the reality of it might be. I wonder if you feel the same way. Is that why you continue to tease me?

I've been pushing you even more than usual tonight on purpose. I want to see how this will play out. Will you deliver on the threats or continue to tease?

"Promises, promises," I counter with a smile. Only you don't look so pleased.

"Come here," you command in a strong voice.

I look up, a little surprised.

"Why," I ask tentatively.

"Just, come here."

I walk toward you wondering if I've finally gone too far. You look very serious. I stop just in front of you. You reach out and pull me tightly against your body. With one hand you firmly grip both of my hands tightly behind my back. You look down directly into my eyes. There isn't a hint of a smile anywhere in your expression.

"If you persist in pushin' my buttons, girl, I'm seriously gonna' have to show you who's in charge here. That is a promise."

Before releasing my hands your mouth opens and claims mine for a very demanding kiss. Your hand, the one holding both my hands tightly behind me, moves to the small of my back and presses me solidly against your groin. I can feel the hardness of your penis beneath the thick fabric of your jeans. You push me away suddenly. I am breathless and a little bit shaken.

The verbal banter between us has always been one of the most seductive and stimulating forms of foreplay. Tonight is no different. But there is a definite edge to tonight's exchanges. I am deliberate in my attempts to get a rise out of you. I can see that you are trying to remain ever the southern gentleman, but that your patience is wearing thin.

As we sit down to eat, I'm chattering away about this, that and the other. You are obviously distracted by something. I continue to chatter through supper After clearing the dishes you wander into the family room and sit down. I hear the TV come on, but continue to chatter.

"That's it. Get your sweet ass over here, now."

I stop in mid sentence. My mouth hangs open.

"I said, get over here. I'm gonna' whoop your ass; no more talking about it. And I've got something to shove in that pretty little mouth of yours if you don't shut it."

I get up, walk slowly toward you and stop just out of your reach.

"Take down your jeans."

I look at you very unsure of what is happening and how to proceed. 

"Take down your jeans," you repeat. "Don't make me tell you again."

I slowly unzip my jeans and slide them down over my hips. I still have my shoes on, so I can't take them off easily. Instead they act like a loose restraint around my ankles.

"Come closer."

I do. Without warning your arm comes forward and you rip the front of my shirt open. Buttons go popping everywhere. You stand suddenly and your arms come around me. I'm thrown slightly off balance by the suddenness of your movement and the jeans around my ankles. Your mouth comes down on mine and your kiss is deep and insistent. Your tongue thrusts into my mouth demanding a response. I can feel your teeth against mine. I am breathless as your mouth opens further to devour mine.

I can feel your fingers trying to unhook the back of my bra. Finally, success. You push away from me and yank it off exposing my breasts. Your hands reach down and immediately begin to squeeze my nipples between your thumb and forefinger. Your mouth is all over mine. There is a sense of urgent demand in your touch. Your mouth finds my neck and I feel your teeth bite into the soft skin. You suck hard for a moment and then move on, gently nibbling your way down to my breasts. One hand grabs firmly on one breast, your mouth takes the other. I feel your teeth against the hard little points of my nipples. I cry out, surprised at the feeling.

You look up into my eyes and chuckle. 

"Nervous," you ask.

"A little," I admit.

"Good, that's what I want you to feel."

I am a little nervous; more so than I had anticipated I would be if this ever happened. While I had been fantasizing about this type of controlled sexual encounter, the reality of it was certainly feeling very different than the fantasy of it. In the fantasy, I was still in control. It was my fantasy. But this is reality and you are clearly in control. You are bigger and stronger. You could hurt me easily, without even trying. Is it the edge of danger that provides a different type of stimulation?

I need to hang on to the one thing that I am most sure of – you. I trust you and I trust that you will not hurt me. I trust that because we have shared our fantasies and even talked specifically about this you will understand it is only role-playing, not representative of the day to day reality of our relationship.

Push me further to the edge than I have ever been perhaps, but not hurt me. We've talked about the thin line between sexual pleasure and pain. You know that I often like to go right to that line. I'm not into pain, but take me close and the orgasms are mind blowing. 

It's the raw, primal urge to mate with the most powerful male in the pack that fuels me. The alpha male is clearly stronger than all the others. He is proud and fully confident in his prowess. 

You are an alpha male. 

But you are not an animal. You are a man. You have a brain that you will use to balance your basic instinctual urges. At your core, you are sensitive and kind. You will take me with all the passion and power of your maleness, but moderate your physical strength with the discipline of your mind and the compassions of your soul. 

All these thoughts are swirling through my head. 

"You were cruisin' for a bruisin' and now you're gonna get it. Turn around and bend over. 

I do, stumbling a bit with the jeans twisted now around my ankles. Without warning, the backside of your hand meets the soft flesh of my bottom. The sound and the feel is muffled only slightly by my thin panties. Again your hand meets my backside. Your hands grab forcefully, digging into the soft flesh of my hips and pull me back against you. I can feel the heat coming from your crotch. I can feel the stiffness of your penis. 

You back up a step and fall back into the chair. 

"Over my knees," you command. 

I turn my body sideways and lean against the rough fabric of your jeans. My breasts are pressed hard against one thigh; my bottom rests on the other. 

Slap. Your hand comes across my backside again. I shiver against your legs. Your hand doesn't leave my bottom. Your fingers begin to knead the soft flesh of my cheeks. You grab the panties and pull them up into the crack of my bottom. With one hand holding tight to the waistband of the panties, the other hand pinches my now red bottom. 

Slap. Slap. My bottom is beginning to sting a bit. The one hand, holding onto the waistband of the panties, pulls them taut. I can feel the fabric against the tender flesh of my vulva. Your fingers probe and push into my soft tissue. There is a different kind of sexual tension in the air. 

I begin to raise myself off your knees. Your hand comes down quickly on my back. 

"Stay where you are until I tell you to move," you say gruffly and plant another slap on my bottom.

Time passes. The house is dark and silent. Your hands continue to knead the soft flesh of my bottom. My body is tense, waiting. Will there be another slap? What's coming next?

"Stand up," you order. "Bend over, facing away from me and grab your ankles."

My bottom is sticking out in front of you. I hear you move. Looking through my legs, I can see you rise from the chair. I can hear the zipper of your pants go down. In an instant, your rock hard penis springs forth from the confines of your jeans. Your hands reach forward and pull me roughly against you. I begin to lose my balance; my jeans restricting my movements. 

"Stay still," you command as you shove your penis against me. "Is this what you want? You want my dick in your ass? Not yet. Maybe later. For now, turn around."

You sit back down on the edge of the chair. 

"On your knees and suck. You know how I like it. Do it exactly how I like it."

I lean forward and take your penis into my hands. There is a bit of semen that has escaped. I reach down to lick the tip. I love the taste of you. I love the feel of you in my mouth. My tongue begins a slow descent down the full length of your magnificent shaft. I feel each and every vein throbbing. My tongue slides around the crown and under the ridge at the tip. Up and down covering each special spot with my mouth. I know you like it really slippery, so I work up as much saliva as I can and keep adding moisture as I go. My mouth is hot. Your penis is hotter still. Over and over I move against you. I take the whole length and girth of you into my mouth and suck hard, wrapping my lips around my teeth. I continue to suck and reach under your bottom to urge you deeper into my mouth. But we both know that the angle is awkward and will not allow for the deep throating that we both love.

"Get up," you say suddenly. 

I do and without asking, extricate myself from first my shoes, then my jeans and finally my panties. You rise again from the chair and drop your jeans beside mine on the floor. You drop to the floor and pull me down with you. Once on your back, you order, "Kneel over me. I want your mouth on my dick and your pussy above my face."

Without another word, I do as you ask. This is a familiar position. One that we both know provides for maximum penetration of your penis in my mouth. As I slowly prepare to go down on you, I feel the backside of your hand slap my bottom again.

"I haven't forgotten' about your whoppin' girl. Get my dick down your throat."

I lean into your crotch and take the full length of you deep into my mouth. We both can feel the tip of your penis against the back of my throat, and moving down. I relax my mouth as much as I can so as not to gag, and slowly slide the tip of your penis around in the warm, moist recess of my mouth. I can hear you moan.

"That's it girl. Don't stop. That feels fuckin' incredible. Don't stop."

But I need a deeper breath than I can get through my nose, so I pull my mouth away.

Slap. Slap. 

"Girl, I said don't stop."

I go down again, taking your solid shaft deeper still into my mouth. It feels incredible on my end too, but after awhile does present a challenge in breathing. This time as I pull back, it is not off you, but just back to the up and down movement of my tongue along the full length of your penis. You are really wet and slippery. My mouth slides easily up and down you. I can feel the deep kneading of your fingertips into the softness of my bottom as my tongue circles your penis. This is amazing. Your strong hands play with my bottom, pushing and pulling my flesh. You spread my cheeks and pull my vagina close to your mouth.

Without warning I feel your chin against my clit. It is already swollen and hard. The roughness of your beard chaps my tender flesh. It feels like fine sandpaper against my skin. I raise my head from your penis for a moment.

Slap. Slap. Although the pressure of your hand has not increased, the sensation has deepened. My bottom is tingling and stinging.

"Don't stop," you order.

I move down to take you penis again in my mouth. I try desperately to concentrate on your penis in my mouth. It is so difficult to ignore the feelings you are stirring up between my legs. When I can take it no longer, I shift my hips away from your face, moving slightly to the side of you rather than directly on top of you. I continue to suck on your penis.

Suddenly I feel your fingers shove deeply into my vagina. My mouth doesn't miss a beat and begins to mimic the pace you set with your fingers. Slowly now, in and out, up and down, my mouth on your penis, your fingers inside my vagina. Faster and harder your fingers thrust into me. Faster and more firmly my mouth goes down on you. It is a dance. You are leading and I am following. Our bodies are in perfect sync. The scents and sounds of sex fill the room.

I can feel your penis grow stiffer in my mouth, a sure sign that your orgasm is nearing. I lift my head and move in with my hand. Wrapping my full hand around the thickness of your penis, I begin to stroke you quickly in an up and down motion.

Slap. "Oh no girl, I'm not finished with your ass. Move around so I can get behind you. This isn't over until I say it's over." Slap.

The carpet is rough on my knees. I lean my shoulders down like I know you like and feel you come at me. Your penis is like a heat guided missile. You know exactly where you want to be. I am ready for you. Your hands grab firmly onto my hips.

"Hold still, damn it." Slap.

It's so hard for me. I try to concentrate.

Your fingertips are digging into me, spreading my cheeks and pulling my bottom tighter against your groin. I can feel the steel rod of your penis pressing against my ass demanding entry. I am concentrating and holding very still. I feel you thrust deep into me. I cry out. In one shove, you push past the rim and the full length of your penis is buried in my ass. Before you begin to move, I can feel the pressure of your testicles against the cheeks of my bottom. You stop for only a moment and then begin to thrust, in and out. The full length of your penis slides easily in and out of my ass. I am so hot for you.

Slap. Slap. Slap. Your penis is firmly planted deep in my ass. Your fingers knead the tender flesh of my bottom. The minute you entered me, I could feel the quivering and tingling deep inside me. The intensity is beyond belief. My whole body is on fire. I am shuddering and shaking, inside and out. The tension is my body has been building from the first slap and is now about to peak. There is only one thing missing. You read my mind, reaching one hand around my groin to grab my clit. The second your fingers make contact, I am gone. My body explodes. You grab the stiff little tip of my clit hard between your fingers and squeeze. Your penis is filling up every inch of my ass. I can feel the power of the release in every nerve ending on my body. The fluids rush out of me and bath us in hot sticky wetness.

My knees buckle and I slide forward. My bare skin is chaffed by the rough carpet. But before I even fully hit the ground, you roughly pull me back.

Slap. Slap. "We're not finished here."

You begin to move again, your penis burying itself deeper into my ass, only to slide out and then thrust in again. There is no resistance at all. I am totally open to you. The fluids of my orgasms have only further lubricated the already easy entry. You pound and pound into me. The strength and depth of your thrusting is awesome. Your hands spread my cheeks and I can feel your testicles slap against me. I am raw, swollen and sore and still you keep coming. My body is still responding to you. With each thrust I moan in pleasure. 

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Come into me deep and hard. I want all of you. Harder. Deeper. Come in my ass," I cry.

Is it possible that the intensity increases and the pace quickens? Slap. Slap. Slap. Your hand and your penis slap into me. Over and over again you pound into me.

Then, as suddenly as it all began, it is over. Your body stills. I can feel the last surge as your penis swells inside my ass. I can feel the contractions in your testicles as they press against me. I can fell the shuddering inside you. It moves from deep within you and out, through your testicles and down the length of your penis. The hot semen surges through your body and shoots into my ass. I can feel the 28mph force of your release into me. We are both sloppy wet, overflowing with our combined juices. 

I hear a heavy sigh as you slowly disengage your body from mine. There is almost a popping sound as your penis leaves my ass. You filled me up and now have left a void. You flop down on the floor. My knees finally give way and I fall right beside you.

The house is quiet and dark. I hear the ragged sound of our breathing. Time passes. Slap. 

Surprised, I look up. You're smiling softy as me. 

"You're not finished girl," you chuckle. "You got some clean up to attend to; other wise I might have to take you over for knee for another whoppin'"

I smile back. "Promises, promises."



Promises, Promises



Authors note: All characters in this story are 18 years old or older. Enjoy! D

* * * * *

Michael sat chewing his straw as he wondered about the mixture of longing and disgust he felt as he watched the group of girls on the other side of the canteen. It was a bright day and the shine from their finely cared-for hair and skin gave them a cinematic glow that made them all the more captivating. His twin sister, Brittany, was with seated amongst them, seemingly just another beautiful face in the crowd of beautiful girls. As he watched her interact, he noted that it was only for the chameleonic way that she blended into the crowd (an effect he had worked hard to master) that caused Mike to be ever so slightly awed as she subtly took control of the group and gradually focussed their attention on her. As she did so his plainly beautiful sister began to shine, as though feeding on the attention being lavished on her by everyone else and for just a moment Michael knew what other guys saw in his evil twin. 

To her right sat her best friend, Suzanne Demico. Suzanne was black with smooth milk chocolate skin, big brown eyes and lustrous long black curls that fell from her head to a deliciously curvy body. Unlike his Aryan American-dream sister she stood out to Michael like a diamond in the dirt. Being one of only two ethnic minorities to make it to the beautiful crowd certainly helped, but Mikes longing gaze had been aimed her way ever since kindergarten. Now his eyes traced over every inch of her, pausing at the full bosom that threatened to burst from her top at any moment. Just then Suzanne laughed at something his sister had said and playfully smacked her arm. Although alarm bells from the bulge forming in his trousers began to sound in his head, Michael was utterly powerless to move his eyes from the jiggling, bouncing mounds that fought with Suzanne's flimsy little bra. His sister said something else and Suzanne punched her arm in mock outrage causing more laughter from the girls at the table. 

Michael's attention wandered briefly back to his sister and he contemplated how someone so bitchy could be so popular. So she was slim and athletic. So she had long shiny golden hair that hung to her waist. Though lacking Suzanne's blatant "curvaciousness," Brittany's breasts and behind were perfectly proportioned, "in an average looking white girl sort of way" he thought to himself. She was a candidate for the (totally overrated) title Ultimate Cheerleader if ever there were one, with bright blues eyes and the cutest prettiest face you ever saw, but she was still a total bitch. 

"It must be the hair," muttered Michael under his breath.

They were both 18, supposedly twins, but Michael had always wondered how any twins could be so different and how one could seemingly hate the other one so much. Michael himself was shorter than the average guy, making him a match in height for his sister. His hair was dirty blond and his blue eyes were not quite as bright and blue as his twins. He had a very slight build and his sister would often tease him about how he was meant to have been a girl twin instead of a "wimpy half-boy". It was a joke that had managed to make its way around the whole school and along with other jibes from his popular and powerful twin it had sealed his fate as a social outcast all through high school.

Michael was roused from his reverie by another burst of laughter from his sister's table. He looked over and saw them looking back, no doubt laughing at another of his sister's jokes about him. He could feel, to his relief that the dawning erection he'd felt before had withered prematurely. Thinking about his sister would do that to him. Quickly Mike finished his food and with his usual grim resignation to life at school he headed off to the library.

***

History, Michaels most hated subject. It was the class where he sat between heaven and hell. On his right across the isle sat Suzanne Demico, his walking wet dream. On his left sharing the same table sat his sister the sibling he tried to forget. "The devil always sits on your left shoulder," he thought as he remembered something their grandmother had said. Mr Knowles stood at the head of the class droning on steadily in his monotone voice and as one the class drifted off into a steady daydream. Mike's dream, as ever, was of Suzanne. He leant back with his hands behind his head and imagined unclasping the bra that restrained her bountiful breasts. He started to see himself wrapping his arms around her from behind, his cock resting between her ass cheeks as he pulled and stroked her nipples. He let his eyes close, and saw her moan as he entered her sweet tight chocolate pussy and slowly began to fuck her over the desk...

Something grabbed Michael's leg through his trousers and he jumped suddenly banging the desk. Some quiet sniggers emanated from around the room but Mr Knowles droned on oblivious. Suzanne was looking at him and he felt his cheeks start to redden. He looked around at his sister who watched him with a huge grin on her face. She made a fist on the desk with her perfectly manicured index finger extended but limp. Then she raised it slowly until it was pointing stiffly upwards. She could barely contain her joy. He knew his cock wasn't showing yet, he was very careful not to make that mistake, but he noticed that the bitch wasn't grinning at him. His head snapped around and he saw Suzanne looking back with a mixture of nervous shock and embarrassment on her face. She quickly looked down at her desk as his eyes met hers. Mike felt the blood rising in his own cheeks as well and he looked back to his sister and whispered coldly, 'I'll get you Brittany!' 

'Promises, promises!' was all she replied.

The last class of the day was Gym and all the guys and girls filed into the massive sports hall and found an activity to practice. It was less of a class and more of meat market where the popular guys and popular girls could show off to each other while everyone else simply tried to stay out of their way. Michael wasn't a great sportsman and when on the basketball court, guys only ever passed to him as a last resort. Consequently he had plenty of time to spy on the girl's game. His sister and Suzanne were on opposing sides today, and Michael watched as the girls' chests bounced in their sports tops. When Mr Alder called change over halfway through the period the teams broke up and grouped themselves around the hall in order of social status for the few minutes of rest they were allowed. Michael sat by himself on the benches opposite the locker rooms. The cool kids were stood around the locker room entrance, guys flexing muscles and teasing their adoring fan club of hot cheerleader girls. Michael's eyes wandered over them. He despised the muscular athletic guys who stood around flexing and preening. He knew his distaste was more to do with jealousy than any resentment of their teasing; after all, if he looked like them or had the power they had he'd probably abuse it too. At one point he caught his sister's eye, but she turned back to the group without acknowledging him. He let his eyes wander over his one true love again. Though built like the proverbial "brick house," Suzanne had toned legs that seemed to go on forever and Michael could not take his eyes off them. 

He vaguely noted his sister tip-toeing up to the ear of Tyrone Jenkins, the biggest blackest boy in school. 6'4" of pure muscle wrapped in dark ebony skin and as luck would have it, he was Suzanne Demico's boyfriend. Michael had never spoken to him, but his reputation was well known. At just eighteen, Tyrone was said to have three children by three different women, the most recent of which had been Mrs Angela Meerson, the newly hired, newly wed and soon to be newly divorced English lit teacher. The other rumour that went around about Tyrone was that he had a 10.5-inch cock that all the girls he met fell in love with. Michael always felt sick to his stomach when he saw Tyrone and Suzanne together. 

'Hey Mike!'

There was a blur of orange as Michael's head turned and registered the basketball travelling at mach 2 towards him. Then it went dark.

Michael's head floated atop the soft pillows of Suzanne's chest. He smiled and wrapped his arms tightly around her. For some reason her body seemed harder than in his dreams. Then he noticed the faint sounds of laughter and conversation. He opened his eyes to find that he was laying flat on the floor. Tyrone was squatting over him saying something about a 'bitch-boy' like him looking at his woman. Michael's head hurt too much to fully register the words. Through the ringing that had been awoken in his head one sound managed to pierce his skull with crystal clarity. He didn't need to look up to see his sister covering her mouth and convulsing in fits of laughter. He knew it was her who had pointed Tyrone at him and fired him off like a guided missile. He could've lived with that day just fine up until that point, after all it was no more than he usually expected from a day at High school. Then as his head rolled to the other side to evade the spittle from Tyrone's verbal assault, he saw Suzanne turning away with the same embarrassed blush she'd had in history class. Slowly he picked himself up off the floor and moved to the bench where he would be out of the way.

The day was over. On the whole it'd been no better or worse than any other day at high school, except for the last two periods. He didn't feel like going to the photography club after seeing that expression on Suzanne's face twice in one day. At least there wasn't much longer before he would graduate and he could pick a college far, far away from his evil twin. Michael strolled dejectedly down the suburban street. He only lived a few blocks from school and he enjoyed the peace of his solitary walk home. When the voice called out to him he froze on the spot. He knew whose voice it was but had lost hope of ever hearing it call out his name. He turned his head and saw Suzanne Demico bouncing up the path towards him. For a brief instant Mike's thoughts flashed a string of romantic fantasies, before settling on the most likely idea that Suzanne just wanted to apologise for Tyrone's high-speed hook shot earlier. He rubbed the bruise on his right cheekbone as the girl of his dreams stepped up in front of him.

'Mike,' she said, 'we need to talk.'

'Ok' replied Michael hesitantly. Her tone was a little stern for an apology, and Michael could not think of what he may have done to upset her.

'I was talking to your sister just before History class today Michael. She told me how you think you're madly in love with me or something; how you have all these twisted fantasies of us together and how you're always daydreaming about me in History classes and jacking off thinking about us together when you're home.'

Rule number one: when backed into a corner, deny everything!

'Suzanne I...'

'She showed me a page from your diary Michael!'

His whole body went cold. Right there on June 6th at 1519 hours, Michael Ashton died. 

The rest of the conversation was just a monotonous blur; the words sounded more like nails being hammered into his coffin. She told him the thought of him made her sick. That she could never be with someone like him. She told him if he thought of her as anything more than some sex object then he wouldn't look at her again while they were in school. Then she left.

Michael lay in his room in an emotionless daze. Despite his pubescent fantasising, Michael knew that he had really loved Suzanne, ever since he met her in kindergarten when they had become best friends, and even after his sister stole her away from him in the 4th grade there had always been a genuine undying love. A love that gave him hope, silly and romantic though it may have been, it was hope none the less. 

His thoughts moved again to Brittany. The Bitch! He wondered what he had ever done to her that she had to torment him so. When they were little she had been the shy quiet one of the two. When did she become the evil hateful little bitch that had turned his whole world against him, and why did he keep letting her get away with it? The History class incident came back to him unbidden. The little whore had shown him up in front of the one person in high school he cared about and all she had to say about his threat of retaliation was, 'Promises, promises'.

They were the only two words she'd spoken to him that day.

Mike looked at the clock. It was 4:15 pm and there was no sign of his sister. A small smile curled the corner of his lips and steadily the numbness by which he'd been consumed was twisting its self into driving purpose. Michael picked up the digital camera he'd been given for his birthday and hurried out of his house.

It had been around two months ago when he had been taking a walk in the forest half a mile from their home and stumbled upon his sister and her 'friends'. At the time there had only been her and two guys, but she had drunkenly bragged to him once of doing as many as five guys at a time. Some were guys he knew from school, some were college guys and friends of friends. The core group, however, were all people who Brittany had dirt on, enough dirt for them to make sure that word never ever got out about her sordid little pastime. Until today she'd had his fantasies of Suzanne as well as plausible deniability to keep him in check. After all who would take his word over the popular pretty cheerleader's? But more than that he realised he'd always been afraid of going against his sister. With nothing to lose and a fool proof plan all the fear had finally gone.

The clearing was bordered by a fallen oak tree on one side and a random arrangement of bushes and logs making a rough square shape. There were three guys with her today. He recognised Adam and Mark, two white guys from the popular crowd in the previous senior year. They had graduated and gone to the local college, but evidently they still kept in touch with some of their former schoolmates. The third figure was unmistakable and seeing Tyrone Jenkins's huge hulking form caused Michaels eyebrow to rise and his humourless smile began to reappear. There were empty beer cans strewn all around and it seemed as though the main event had only just begun. In the centre of the clearing the bitch was already on all fours with a thick white dick in her mouth. The muscular jock knelt in front of her and worked his hips steadily back and forth while the taller more slender Mark tugged his already swollen cock from his jeans. Michael began taking pictures.

Brittany was already topless and her skirt was up around her waist. Her firm full c-cups trembled beneath her the small pink nipples already hard with arousal and Michael found his head shaking in disgust. He was transported back to the first time he'd seen her here, when the two guys had been jacking off onto her face and tits to a soundtrack of filthy come-ons emanating from Brittany's mouth. 

Michael focussed himself back in the present and guided his lens over his sluty sibling's body as she crawled around the dirt for her customers. He zoomed in on the innocent white cotton panties that covered her pussy and ass. Her mound was visibly swollen and the soft fabric that stretched tight against her flesh outlined her pussy in exquisite detail. A large dark patch on her panties signalled just how horny all the attention had made his sister. Without a word Tyrone moved along side her and his long black fingers started rubbing her through the wet spot . Brittany moaned and started working her ass back onto his hand as her head nodded in agreement with the oral fucking she received from Adam.

Mike watched transfixed as Tyrone slowly peeled his twin's underwear from her firm rounded ass. When they were rolled just a few inches down from her soaked blond pussy he stopped and admired his prize. Flawless pale skin flushed a gentle pink, with not an ounce of fat on display. Her puckered anus twitched invitingly and her soft glistening cunt pouted hungrily, silently promising to devour anything it was offered. Tyrone pressed a single long dark digit up through the wet cotton that was stretched between her thighs and rubbed the sodden fabric against her clit. Brittany dropped the cock from her lips and moaned long and loud. Her spine curled and flexed as she tried to grind herself on the panty-clad digit that had electrified her so.

Mark knelt down in front of the gyrating blond while slowly masturbating the slim cock that poked from his shorts. Brittany saw him and dived on him swallowing his length whole. She wrapped one hand around his waist as she bounced her lips up and down the full length of his meat. Adam's swollen member began poking and prodding Brittany's bulging cheek like a pet seeking attention from its owner. Without missing a beat Brittany's lips slipped off one cock on the backstroke and straight down onto the other, devouring the dick like ice cream to a starving child. A stream of obscene noises came from the clearing and Michael wished that he could record sound along with those pictures so everyone would hear as well as see how much of a slut she was. He continued to creep around the bushes, trying to get as much detail into each shot as he could. It wasn't long before he was watching his bitch sister getting fucked in her mouth and her pussy by the two white studs while Tyrone slowly stroked the massive bulge in his shorts. 

Her appetite for cock was amazing. The two horny college studs were using his sister like some cheap whore and there could be no doubt, she loved every second. When Mark would slip from her mouth she would strain her neck to swallow him up again. When Adam's cock slowed it's pounding, Brittany would slam her body back on his thick prick like she was scared of what would happen if he stopped. Their hard paced fucking went on for an age before Adam finally pulled out and with a loud cry covered the milky buns of Brittany's ass in hot creamy spunk. Brittany let Mark's dick slip from her mouth and held onto him for dear life as Adam let rip with his seed. For a moment there were no sounds but the panting of the group. Brittany writhed and ground her ass against the air, until suddenly Tyrone got down on his knees and began licking the cum from Michael's sister's ass. As he did so Brittany began to orgasm loudly and Mark began pounding his dick with his fist. By the time his sister started to quiet Mark was shooting wad after creamy wad of hot cum on her face and chest. Brittany knelt for a minute basking in the warm afterglow of her cum shower and the noisy ministrations of Tyrone's probing tongue. Then as if Mark had never been there she turned and fell upon Tyrone, pulling his huge manhood from his shorts and stuffing it in her mouth. 

As Adam and Mark began making their way out of the clearing Tyrone and Brittany ignored their goodbye's and fell straight into a deep and sloppy 69. Michael continued to take pictures. His dick was tenting his pants; this was going better than he could have dreamed. He made sure to zoom in when Tyrone's giant dick finally split the bitch's overworked pussy wide open; the huge black shaft stretched his whore of a sister more than he'd imagined possible. The big black stud was squatting over Brittany and pounding his manhood down into her cunt, her legs were over his shoulders and his huge hands held onto her tits like they were safety bars on a roller coaster. His sister was growling now, her body's only movements were the shockwaves sent through her when his hips made impact. 

The two of them fucked like the wildest of animals pounding and slamming and grinding against one another with a ferocity Mike had never seen before. There were no words spoken between them but for the grunts and cry's of their exertion, and their scrambling position changes were like brief battles for dominance that though hard fought her stud would always win. 




Promises, Promises



When Brittany pushed herself up into a seated position on the fallen tree Tyrone was quick to follow. His cock-head felt the chill of the evening air for only a second before it once more speared Brittany's waiting cunt. She leaned back from her seated position, gradually giving her stud more access to her inner depths. Before long Michael was watching his sister get fucked over the tree with her feet planted on one side and her hands planted on the other.

Tyrone took her on all-4s. His giant horse-cock was disappearing completely into the whores tight little pink hole for the first time and the short fast piston-like pounding had given way to slow withdrawals and long deep pile driver thrusts that made both of them cry out. Mike zoomed in as that thick ebony pole tore its way into his twin's body over and over again. Then Tyrone pressed her head down into the dirt and with his other hand slowly screwed a long slender digit into her gaping asshole...

His camera was running out of memory, but that didn't matter he had more than enough shots for his purposes. He waited until he had just three shots left before taking his finger off the capture button. He knew, like every good photographer, that there was one magic shot that had yet to present its self. When finally it came he knew it had been worth the wait: Tyrone had his slut of a sister lifted completely off the ground and impaled on his mighty black shaft. Michael used all his skill and knowledge of photography to capture how passionately he kissed her then and how ecstatic she looked as his thick ebony lips pushed the sensations of her pole ride over the line into a screaming thrashing explosive orgasm. As he listened to her cries muffled by Tyrone's lips he allowed himself the indulgence of releasing his cock and slowly masturbating. As he stroked his dick he checked the images he'd taken in the camera's view screen. Finally, when he had finished, his humourless smile had at last got the joke. He left the clearing to prepare for phase two.

It was 11:30 pm when Michael's slut sister finally came home. Their parents had gone to the mountains for the week so Brittany knew she could break the rules without any hassle. She moved slowly up the stairs, her body sore from all the sex and lacking her usual grace due to the copious amounts of alcohol her and her friends had drank as the night went on. The light was on in the hall outside her bedroom so she figured her low-life brother was still up. She passed his door without a word or a pause until she reached her room. On the door to her bedroom was a paper sign with the words 'So you like big cocks huh?' Beneath the sign was a picture of her on her hands and knees on the forest floor, her face screwed up as Tyrone fucked her from behind. The image looked as if it was taken from three feet in front of her. Brittany was enraged. She stormed back to her brother's bedroom and kicked the door open. He was sitting in front of his desk, his chair turned to face the door as though waiting for her.

'What the fuck is this you little bastard!?! Are you spying on me??'

Michael stood up and walked slowly to the doorway stopping a few inches in front of Brittany.

'This is revenge sis,' said Michael, 'I told you I'd get you, and tomorrow the whole school is going to be treated to a show of just how much of a cheap and dirty, piece-of-shit whore you really are. Now get out of my room!'

With the last he shoved his sister hard sending her slamming into the opposite wall in the hallway. He looked at her with a satisfied smile on his face as she grimaced and held her shoulder in pain. Then he shut his bedroom door and locked it.

For a couple of hours he could hear his sister banging on the door and begging him to talk to her. He even heard the bitch crying more than once. He had his music up to make her think he wasn't listening, but he was, and he loved every minute of it. However it wasn't until the second time he heard her sobbing outside his door that his real plan finally took shape in his mind. It had always been there he realised, hidden away in the recesses of his fantasies, buried under layers of fears and inhibitions; but hearing her weep that time as he reviewed and edited his collection of photo's, he suddenly noticed that his cock was as hard as a rock, harder even than it had been in the woods.

That night Michael slept very peacefully indeed.

It was 5:58 am when Michael woke up, two minutes before his alarm. He didn't need to look down to know his cock was rock solid once more. He turned off his alarm and used the bathroom and then he walked casually into his sister's bedroom where he found her laying asleep on an unmade bed still in her clothes. He shook her gently with his hand until she woke up, and dropped a sheaf of papers on the bed.

'Take a look through those then go get cleaned up and come talk to me' said Michael. Then he turned and went down to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast.

Around 6:15 Brittany walked slowly down the stairs and joined Michael in the kitchen. She was just wearing her pink dressing gown and droplets of water were still running down her skin. He couldn't remember ever seeing her look so crest fallen and he had to hold back the urge to smile. For the first time Michael felt like a man around his sister, and soon she would feel just how much of a man he had become. 

She stood silently for a moment looking down at the dining table. Michael's eyes never left her but he said nothing. Eventually she spoke, her eyes still on the table.

'Michael, I'm sorry ok. I'm sorry for showing you up in front of Suzanne and the others, I'm sorry for being such a bitch to you. I don't know why I did it but I promise you it will stop. From now on I won't let anybody say a bad word about you, just please don't spread those pictures around, I'll do anything!'

'Anything?' asked Michael.

'Anything!' came Brittany's earnest reply.

There was a pause. Michael knew exactly what he wanted from her, he'd been rehearsing this in his head from before he went to sleep and right up until his sister came down stairs. Everything had to be perfect, but he was straining so hard to maintain a hard demeanour when all he really wanted to do was laugh at the stupid little whore in front of him. He didn't. 

'Then anything it is. Go to your bedroom and get the red shoe-box you have under your bed.'

His sister looked shocked and froze at the mention of her 'toy box'. 

'Did I stutter?' said Michael.

Brittany stood at the table facing her now seated brother. She trembled nervously, her eyes flicking from the box to his cold, cold eyes and back.

'Open it' he said.

Brittany blushed as she moved to reveal her most intimate secrets to her sibling. The box contained a small assortment of dildo's, vibrators and other toys, ranging from a little vibrating egg to a thick 9' pink latex cock, to a set of shiny metal handcuffs. Michael told her to take the egg and the dildo and then held up the first picture. 

'Michael what is this? We're brother and sister we shouldn't be...' Her words trailed off leaving the most taboo of topics hanging in the air around them.

'Last night,' said Michael 'Something wonderful happened.' 

Brittany's gaze dropped as he continued. 'I've always known you were a total bitch and that we have absolutely nothing in common, but when I saw you on your knees, scrambling after those retards to taste their dicks, I realised that it was all a lie. We're not related at all, not really.' 

It was the last thing she expected to hear and the words felt like blows as they landed at her ears. Michael went on, 'Really, we are just some freak genetic accident that gave us similar features and the same blood type, but that sluty little cunt in the clearing last night, the sluty little cunt standing in front of me is not in any way that matters, my sister!'

The last was like a knife sinking into her chest. She stood dazed, her eyes welling with tears as she struggled with the feelings of shame, loss and anger that he invoked. 

'Now,' he said, 'tell me what's in the picture'.

Her head snapped up, the anger taking over as he played his stupid hurtful game. 'I'M GETTING FUCKED!' she yelled, her eyes blazing fury at him before being hidden by her golden mane as she turned away.

'You can do better than that,' he said calmly. 'I want details, now look again'.

Brittany didn't move. In her rage she had found the strength to be defiant, but Michael was prepared. 

'Brittany, if you do as I say now, I promise not to release those pictures to the school. If you don't, I promise these pictures will follow you wherever you go. Just think how quickly word will spread around a small town like this. You've never had to live with taunting or bullying, but I can tell you it's not fun and what I had to put up with will seem like a walk in the park compared to this. You will wish you had never been born. All your friends will leave you; you'll be forced out of cheerleading and off the track team. Suzanne will probably kick the crap out of you, all the teachers will be looking down their noses at you, everyone will be talking about you behind your back and quite a few will do it to your face. There's not a man around that will give you the time of day unless they think they can get a fuck out of it. Then off course there'll be the fallout when mom and dad find out...'

She couldn't fight him any more, she knew she was beaten and no amount of pride or rage could change that. 

'Now, look again' he said. 

Slowly, numbly, she lifted her head and took in the image in her former brothers hand. 

'I see myself; I'm on my knees naked except for the skirt hiked up around my waist. I'm sucking on some guys cock.'

'You like sucking cock?'

'I guess.'

'Why? What do you like about it?'

'I don't know!' the frustration and defiance were creeping back into her voice. Michael sighed.

'Brittany, these questions make up the most important exam you will ever take and I am not giving you any more chances to get them right.' 

She paused, looking for some shred of warmth in his eyes. She found none. Her gaze sank once again to the floor, her eyes closed and she began speaking.

'I am a total slut for cock.' She said, 'I love it. I love the sight of it, the feel of it in my hands or against my skin and especially in my mouth. When I masturbate I often just use my hands on my clit and use the dildo you picked to slowly fuck and suck between my lips. I love having my mouth penetrated because it makes me feel dirty and I like that. I love seeing a powerful man standing over me, using me like I'm some kind of sex toy built for his pleasure. I feel totally helpless, totally under his control and I love it.'

'In that picture I'm sucking Adam's cock. He's about 8' long and very thick. I don't think you can make it out but he has the veiniest prick I've ever seen. I love sliding my lips and tongue across his shaft and I swear when he cums in my mouth I can feel every one of those veins swelling on my tongue. When I sucked him off yesterday, when you took that photo, I wanted to feel his veins bulging and have him shoot his cum down my throat. I was a little disappointed that he didn't.'

Brittany was trembling slightly now. In her mind she had lived every word she spoke, remembering the first time she had knelt in front of a cock and how last night she'd sucked three men until her neck jaw and throat all ached. She was suddenly aware of her nipples; sorely erect they pressed against her robe and let Michael know that his plan was working. Her eyes opened to look at him and she saw the malevolent smile she had been expecting. 

'Take off your robe' he told her. There was no thought of compliance in her mind; there was no thought of anything. She felt the robe fall to the floor and she stood before him totally nude. Without another word he put down the photo and picked up another.

'I'm on my hands and knees, still naked. Adam is fucking me from behind while I suck on Mark's cock.' She paused.

'I remember I could feel my pussy juice streaming down my thighs by the time Adam decided I needed fucking. His cock felt so good stretching me open and every few thrusts he'd slam me so hard I choked on Marks meat. Mark's dick is just as long as Adam's but its slimmer, so I can take it deeper. He's also much smoother and the contrast to Adam always makes me crazy. Its funny, but I prefer focussing on one guy, being owned, belonging purely to one hot cock. But being owned and being used are different feelings entirely. This is me being used. In this photo, at this point last night, I was fuck-meat: nothing but a place for these two studs to empty their ball sacks into. I remember Adam was really fucking the shit out of me and mark wouldn't let me get more than an inch of his dick out of my mouth. If they weren't such pro's they'd have filled me with jizz in 30 seconds or less. It was all about them. They used my holes to get off and didn't give a shit whether I liked it or not. I suppose that's just one step away from being raped isn't it? Being used as fuck-meat? Being used by two horny men. The thought of it makes me wet...'

She'd finally admitted what was plain to see.

Michael stood and moved around the table. He took the little vibrating egg and switched it on and then lowered the toy to Brittany's pussy and pressed it gently against her clit. Brittany closed her eyes again but didn't move. The toy hummed quietly, muffled by her flushed flesh and she felt herself responding to its touch.

'Show me how you sucked their cocks.' His voice was quiet, barely a whisper in her ear. 

She raised the large flesh coloured dildo to her lips. As her hand moved she thought about how utterly powerless she was and how powerless she had been since she returned home last night. She thought about how she had cried herself to sleep last night, and how she had rubbed herself to orgasm in the shower this morning; all because she knew she was totally at his mercy. Brittany opened her mouth and felt the cock slide between her lips. She began sliding her mouth back and forth on it, rolling her tongue around the massive member and sucking and biting the cock like the cum she wanted it to spew would set her free. The pressure of the vibe at her clit made her moan into the dick and she found her hand guiding his movements between her legs. The dick in her mouth was moving faster, pumping harder into her throat. Brittany struggled to take it all, every thrust in her mouth sent waves of electricity down her spine and into her clit and she felt herself gagging as her face got fucked by the 9' monster. Soon it was being rammed harder and harder into her throat and she felt herself beginning to choke. Her hips began bucking, convulsing of their own accord. Her eyes shot open to look at the man who mercilessly impaled her throat, but all she saw was her own hand holding a dildo. The orgasm she had right then blew her mind away. 

Brittany was lost. The orgasm had hit her like some super refined amphetamine. She could still feel it in her system, writhing and growling in the pit of her stomach like some mythical beast in its cave. She tingled from her head to her pinkie toes and the world around her was a blur.

'Just one more photo, Brittany. Tell me what you see.'

The voice was distant but comfortingly familiar. Slowly she tried to focus on her eyes and what they were showing her. There was a girl, blond with a firm athletic body; her long hair fell about her like a glowing waterfall. Firm flushed breasts with hard pink nipples sat above a taught pale tummy and powerful thighs. Her strong toned muscles were flexing as she strained with exertion. There was a man in the picture too. He had dark skin, black as her favourite bra; his size and strength dwarfed the tiny young white girl. Brittany concentrated some more. He was holding the girl, his dark ebony arms were coiled around her like serpents, one hooking under her thigh the other around her waist crushing her against his chest and suspending her above the ground. A third serpent, a thick tower of ebony flesh rose up from beneath the girl and disappeared inside her puffy red vagina. The man and the girl were kissing. Deeply.

'Tyrone is fucking me, holding me off the ground and taking me with his giant black cock-meat' she said quietly. 'I can't stop cumming for him. It's so good and he's fucked me so long... Even when I fucked the other two, I was really just putting on a show for him. It's starting to hurt and I want to stop cumming, but I can't. I'm Tyrone's little white fuck-doll, his whore, his personal cock-slut. He owns me. I see Tyrone, owning me.' 

She gazed deeply into the photo remembering every sensation of the previous day, re-living the feel of her body being penetrated and impaled on that massively thick and long member. She had felt his huge spear tear into her body and mind and destroy her with pleasure. The ritual was familiar to her now, she had done it many times: with every thrust of his body into her he re-asserted his power and with every cry and whimper she had gladly signalled her submission. When he had lifted her off the floor she had left her own mind behind. Completely at his mercy, suspended on the end of his manhood, she became his fuck-doll, his toy. She had felt the total freedom of being his property and when he kissed her it was the final seal of his ownership. When that happened, Brittany could never stop cumming.

She was on her knees in front of him, naked but for the pink bathrobe pooled beneath her knees. The world was coming back into focus slowly and it seemed a painful process. She knew who he was but for the life of her she could not recognise him. He was supposed to be her brother, but that wasn't true. He raised the photo he held in his hands and slowly tore it in two.

'That,' he said 'is the past. From now on nobody owns you, but me.'

Brittany smiled happily; she knew that now she would be taken care of, just like she always wanted.

Michael's hands moved to his jeans and pulled open the buttons; he was not wearing any underwear. Slowly, almost ceremoniously he extracted his manhood. Brittany gasped as she saw his hand drawing the seemingly endless serpent from out of his pant leg. Easily as thick as Tyrone's, Michaels' cock appeared just as long, yet rather than a solid sword of meat, Mikes cock still swung loose and rope like from his hand as it moved, only semi-hard, from his jeans. With a motion clearly slowed by the weight of it, Michael's hand swung the giant dick and slapped his little whore in the face with it. Though there was no real force behind it, the sheer weight of the impact sent her reeling. All the taunting she had thrown at him, all the emasculation and humiliation came back to her in that slap and it felt like a hammer coming down on what remained of her will. Brittany the, cock-whore, was awe-struck. 

'Take it Britt, show me how grateful you are that I own you' he said. 

His voice held a quiet power that held her like a chain to a dungeon wall. With both hands the girl took the cock. She marvelled at its weight and the way it slowly pulsed in her hands. Each beat of her new masters heart made it swell bigger, turning it from flaccid rope to flaming steel. She found her hands circling it and stroking it, sliding the full length of his tower in a slow hypnotic massage, her hands drifting up and down the mighty shaft just as though they were always meant to.

'My God!' she mumbled as she stroked the dick against her face.

'Master, will do,' came the reply.

Brittany's legs were spread and Michael admired how long and firm they looked, even as they trembled from fatigue. He brought his hand down hard on her firm, glowing butt cheek and her body jumped in response releasing a short cry of pain from her lips. He slid his monstrous prick back into her hole and marvelled at the narcotic effect it had on the bitch. He'd managed to draw this out for nearly an hour, striking her rear at random intervals and watching as her body became rigid after each blow. It never took more than three strokes of his dick in her pussy to melt her back into a writhing moaning little whore and Michael had to fight not to cum every time he thought about what he'd done. He pumped harder, ramming his cudgel into the bitch like he wanted to hurt her. Her cry's and moans became shorter and more frequent as she gasped for the air that was being fucked out of her lungs. Her back arched and flexed as only a gymnasts could and her pussy turned upwards to swallow what little more of his meat that it could. Brittany was delirious, lost in a blur of sensation and she was starting to cum.




Promises, Promises



It was right then, as his newly initiated slave began to explode all over his big hard dick that Michael took the large pink dildo and with all his might drove it straight into his sister's ass.

***

Michael stood in front of his locker and watched as Brittany entered the hallway. Her eyes were lowered in concentration and she walked slowly, doing her utmost to look normal and relaxed in spite of the thick 9-inch phallus she held up her backside on his order. Michael smiled at his former sibling and even had to suppress a laugh at what he had made of the dumb cock-craving slut. His mighty manhood stirred in his pants and he turned back to his locker before he let the whole school know his not-so-little secret. He glanced back toward his sister and saw Suzanne a few paces behind her. She moved straight to her locker, apparently not yet noticing Brittany. Michael watched with keen interest as Suzanne pulled the envelope he'd left for her off the locker door. A few seconds later, Suzanne ran out of the building clutching a picture in her hand. 

When Michael sat down in History class that morning Mr Knowles couldn't help noticing how strange it was to see Michael Ellery, smiling.



Promises, Promises



Being a bachelor is great, right? You can do what you want, come and go as you please, with no one to answer to. There's a side to living the single life that a lot of guys don't like to talk about however. If you're not the type of brotha who's a playboy, with hot, nympho supermodels coming in and out at all hours of the night, if the majority of your sex comes from a computer screen and not a human being, life can be really lonely for the single guy. 

That was the sad reality for Chase. He worked 9 to 5 or so at an insurance company at a job that was so incredibly boring that he contemplated running away to Rio every morning during his daily commute. He couldn't really complain too much, he got away with doing as little work as possible and got paid well enough to go on vacation, party, save a little, and live comfortably. He wasn't ugly, he was attractive by most standards, but he just wasn't the sort of guy that felt comfortable going out picking up random chicks. He could if he applied himself to the effort but it just didn't seem worth the drama. 

It was the ride home from work where Chase's inner sexual demons started taunting him. Living alone, Chase had become addicted to masturbation. He felt guilty about the fact that he felt like he was enslaved to his raging sexual desires. Sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, he made a deal with himself. "I'm not going to do it tonight. Yeah, I'm not going to do it for another month, starting today," he affirmed aloud. 

Arriving home, Chase headed straight for the bathroom. Pulling out his dick, he let loose with a stream of hot urine into the bowl. It felt good to piss and before the strong yellow stream finished, his dick was getting wood. He stroked it a little and pulled his balls out and started rolling them in his fingers. Catching a glance of himself in the mirror, the guilt hit him and he stopped before he got too carried away. 

Getting out of his suit and putting on some comfortable sweats, Chase was free to fix dinner. Well, he ordered take-out because he had never even used his stove before. Committed to his vow, he sat down to watch TV while he ate his buffalo wings. He hadn't even been home for an hour before he started getting anxious. "I'll just log on, check my email, and log off," he said to himself, knowing that it was the Internet that was his downfall.

Before he could even open up a browser, he got an IM from one of his buddies saying, "hey whaz up u gonna cam 2nite?" 

"Nah, not tonight," he replied before he went invisible. He checked his email and other than notification that an ousted Nigerian parliamentarian was seeking his assistance in getting $2 million bucks out of the country, he didn't have any emails. He checked his MySpace and Black Planet pages, wrote about how much he hated his job on his blog, and he didn't see a reason not to check his Xtube page while he was at it. The temptation was just too great and he checked out some of the recently added videos. He watched a few women getting pounded hard in the ass while he played with his nipples, twisting and rubbing them. There couldn't be any harm in checking out a few tranny vids, could there? Before he knew it, Chase had been watching porn for two hours and his dick was as hard as a rock and he was stroking it with his favorite lotion for lube. He'd been teasing himself the entire time and he was desperate to cum. 

He struggled within himself. He didn't want to go back on his vow but he was so horny, so turned on. He felt ashamed of himself, and guilty. It was almost as if his lust controlled him when he was in this sort of aroused state. Now, completely naked, he was fingering his ass and didn't give a damn about the empty promise he'd made to himself. 

He went to his closet and got out all of his toys. Chase had a collection of dildos that went from small butt plugs he could wear under his suits at work with no one the wiser to gigantic, humongous, enormous dildos that didn't look like human beings could take them. They ranged in color from light cocoa to the darkest of ebony. His dick leaked precum at the very thought of feeling those huge, fake dicks penetrating his ass. 

Part of his arousal was feeling the shame. He felt dirty and abnormal for loving things shoved up his ass but that turned him on as well. He was terrified he was the only brotha in the world who loved women, loved pussy, loved fucking but also loved feeling his asshole stuffed with hard, huge fake dicks. When he was aroused like this, his ass had a mind of it's own. He couldn't count how many times he'd thrown every dildo he owned away, promising to never do it again, only to wind up a few weeks later, replacing all the ones he'd discarded and buying even more to add to his collection. He just couldn't come to terms with the fact that his asshole would get as horny as a pussy, throbbing and desperate to be filled, fucked savagely, and left gaping open. 

As hard as he tried, he couldn't go more than three or four days without it. Something in him took over and it was all he could think about. He had a ritual. He went from small to large, talking to himself out loud the entire time. "Ohh, that's it. Ohhh, it feels so good going in my tight hole. Mmmm, I can feel the head of that dick stretching my anal ring, sliding in deep. Damn, I love feeling that thick shaft in me." He didn't even have to touch his prick, it leaked on it's own. When he did jerk his stiff, hard erection, he craved the feeling of a big, hard dildo deep, deep inside him. He loved feeling slutty and by the time he was in the zone, he as out of control with his fantasies. "Fuck yeah, fill my pussy with that hard meat. Give it to me, fuck me with that big dick." 

Truth be told, he was crazy for the feeling of being penetrated but he was terrified of being bisexual. Those fears seemed to disappear when he was fucking himself; he got off in those moments of depravity by thinking of himself as a faggot gangbang slut, taking on four and five dudes at a time, being used, driving them crazy with his insatiable asspussy that couldn't be satisfied, that would drain them of their cum and be ready for more. 

By 11:00, Chase was deep in his nightly routine and he was ready for the 13-inch dildo in his ass. It was over four inches thick at the base and as black as night. He positioned the base on the wall and got on his knees. He teased himself by rubbing it up and down his ass crack and over his balls. He liked teasing himself, pretending that he had to beg for it like a filthy whore. His asshole was throbbing with desire and he heard himself moan as he backed up on the head. For Chase, that was one of the most intense feelings, feeling that thick head pop in his hole. He taunted his fantasy lover, "Oh yeah, does that feel good? You like the way my tight, wet, hot pussy makes you feel?" He backed up on the dildo and felt every inch as it went deeper and deeper inside. Luckily, he's laid out some towels on the floor because by the time he'd worked that entire dildo in his ass, he'd pissed himself and it felt damn sexy. 

The feeling of fullness was indescribable. Chase wished he could stay like that forever, with that huge dildo deep in him, filling him, keeping him on the edge of pleasure and satisfying a need in him to be filled. He grabbed another dildo and shoved it in his mouth, sucking it like only a cheap whore could. He wanted two real dicks filling him, making him take every inch. In his mind, he was a cum slut, bareback bitch, getting hot cum pumped in him from both ends. Chase was like an animal, sweating and moaning and fucking himself like crazy. He worked every inch of that thick dildo in his ass and wiggled that ass like a stripper to work it deeper. He got into a rhythm where he would take it all the way out to the head and slam back on it hard, causing himself to moan out in pleasure as he fucked himself over and over again. When he felt himself getting close to cumming, he stopped; prolonging the pleasure was such an intense high he didn't mind only getting a few hours sleep at night in order to scratch that itch in his mancunt. 

When he lay on the bed, with his legs in the air, he could see the dildo going in and out of his pussy in the mirror. He loved looking at his sexy brown hole gape open, imagining loads and loads of hot cum dripping from it. He found himself on more than one occasion licking and sucking a dildo directly from his ass, tasting his manly ass juices and shoving it back in only to lick and suck it again. He talked to himself in the mirror, "Look at you. You are so nasty. Look at you cleaning that filthy dick straight from your shithole. Mmm, it tastes so good." 

When he knew he couldn't take it anymore, when he knew he was about to explode with cum, he turned on his web cam, mounted his favorite, curved dildo to his chair and gave a show for anyone who wanted to see. His fans loved seeing him ride that thick dildo as much as they loved seeing him stroke his own impressive dick. Every time that curved dildo hit his spot, he would moan like a bitch. "Fuck yeah, I love feeling that big hard dick in my pussy. I'm such a faggot slut. I can't get enough. I'm addicted to feeling that thick, hard shaft shoved in me. I need it deeper, harder." The muscles in his thighs flexed and he jerked his erection in time, hard and fast. "I'm such a fucking cumwhore. I love getting fucked in my ass. Shit, fuck me. Fuck, it feels so fucking good. Goddamn bareback pussy boi whore who can't get enough. Fucking fag boy who loves getting fucked. Dirty, nasty shithole slut, getting that hot, thick dickmeat where I need it. Come on, can't you fuck me any harder than that? Use this tight manpussy, rip it open. Oh god, I can't take it, I'm going to cum. Shit . . . Fuck . . . Damnnnnnnn!!!! Oh fuck, I'm cumming." 

Cleanup was a bitch. The last thing he wanted to do at 3 in the morning was to wash up and put everything away in its hiding place. He knew if he didn't, Chase knew that if he didn't put everything away then and there, that when he came home from work later that evening, that he would be too tempted to do it again. And this time made a promise to himself that he wasn't going to do it again for at least another month. 

Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK



Promises, Promises...



The idea for this story came from another story. I thought about it for a while and wrote a new story. In Sept 2011 I revised that story and resubmitted it. Comments written before the 24th of Sept 2011 are for the previous version. There are blowjobs, vaginal, anal sex and cuckoldry in this story. There is also resolution. 

*******

In the fifth grade I sat next to Tim in the back row. We became friends and stayed friends all through school. He was quiet and often invisible during our lives, until college. In college he found some confidence and actually became a popular guy in our small social circle. I believed his confidence was based in Sarah. They met and bonded during their first year at college together. When I met Amy we were in our third years and luckily the four of us got along well during college. Amy and Sarah didn't look at all alike. Amy loved wearing her dark brown hair long and often in a ponytail. Her skin was always tanned and looked like she had just applied lotion. Amy moved like she had spent her entire youth studying dance. Her green eyes captivated me from the day I met her. Amy was about five foot six and Sarah about five foot one.

After graduation Sarah and Tim moved to Baltimore while Amy and I moved to Denver. Our friendship remained, but was limited to phone calls and emails mostly with one summer trip somewhere each year.

Sarah was a pretty, petite blond with a gymnast's body and stunning pixy looks. Tim looked like if he wore big plaid shirts he would be the poster boy for lumberjacks everywhere. He was about six foot tall with short curly chestnut colored hair. Most of the time Tim was quiet and Sarah the life of the party type, but somehow they seemed to fit.

After graduation and our moves, Amy and I noticed that things weren't as rosy between Tim and Sarah as they had been. It started with little things we saw in their emails, sniping about things they said or did. Tim's remarks were in the form of being hurt by things Sarah said or did. Sarah wrote about Tim in the form of complaints.

In the summer three years after graduation we met in Yellowstone for a week. We saw all the sights, attended a rodeo, a county fair and took lots of pictures. We drove to Salt Lake City to catch planes for home. On a lunch break when Tim went to the bathroom Sarah confided in me that as soon as they were home she was divorcing Tim. She wouldn't go into any details, just saying that she just couldn't live with Tim anymore.

I got the news from Tim three days later in an email. He wrote that the divorce was a shock and that Sarah was unwilling to get counseling or even tell Tim why she wanted the divorce. He hinted that he thought she was seeing someone on the side.

The emails from Sarah stopped. The emails from Tim sounded like his life had turned to shit. He described his new apartment as a cracker box in a poorer part of town and that because he was divorced the promotions were not coming his way at work. He said it was a family business and they just didn't much like divorced men. In our phone calls he sounded like death warmed over.

For months we had been reading and hearing about the slumping job market. One day I got a call from Tim telling me that he was looking for work. He had been released from his job and had landed a job interview in Denver. I talked with Amy and we decided to invite him to stay with us while he was here for the interview.

I had a great job with a high-tech start-up and Amy was a recruiter for a big Denver law firm. We both made good money and Amy loved that about eighty percent of her job could be done from home. She had a home office overlooking the Rockies. Given our successes it was hard to identify with Tim's plight.

When he arrived he tried to look up beat... and failed. He told us of some minor successes he had in the last three months but that he had not been offered a good job.

When he and I were alone he confided that he was starting to believe there were no jobs and there were no women either. He let me know that the drought was in both the job market and the relationship field as well. He said he had been out only twice since Sarah left him. I heard deep hurt in his voice letting me know he was going more and more into depression.

Amy and I talked often about our friend Tim, discussing his depression and his need for a good job. He had arrived in town four days before the interview. Amy cooked great meals while he was with us and told me she was doing it to boost his spirits. She bought him a new dress shirt and tie to wear to the interview, also to boost his dragging spirits.

The night before his interview at Rocky Mountain University College Amy and I were talking, as we got ready for bed. Tim had been staying in our guest room; a cozy, warm room down in our basement. I shared with her what he had said to me that day. "I'm starting to believe that if Rocky Mountain University doesn't work out, I'll work the rest of my life at Best Buy. I hear they're hiring."

"That bitch!" Amy said, "If Sarah had hung in there with him until he got his feet on the ground, he'd be Ok today!"

"I don't think Sarah gets all the blame. Maybe if he was a bit more positive, less hangdog. Sarah had the impact she did because she was his first and only."

"What do you mean?" Amy asked. "Didn't Tim have other girl-friends before Sarah?"

"I mean that he didn't date in high school and when we got to college he asked one girl out. Sarah. She said yes and he was done. I don't think he ever dated anyone but her. Sarah's probably the only woman he's ever slept with."

"Oh my God! What a distorted view of women he must have!"

"He's known other women. I know he thinks the world of you. He is a smart guy, just emotionally crippled because he wasn't ever very social except with the four of us. In my humble opinion, if Tim is ever going to break free of Sarah he needs to find out that other women find him desirable. Then he could get on with his life."

"He's caught! If he doesn't come out of his shell, women will avoid him and any woman who might come close probably has so many problems she'll drag him down." Amy said, thinking over his dilemma.

"Too bad there isn't something we can do to help him." I said. "Do we have a friend who would seduce him, convince him that there is life after Sarah? That would be a hell of a friend."

Sarah looked at me like I had just discovered electricity. After a few seconds of silence Amy looked at me and asked, "You want me to seduce him?" Her face made it a question. Her eyes made it a challenge. Her tone was part rebuke, part offer, and part observation.

I answered, "Hell no! He'd fixate on you like he did on Sarah. That wouldn't help him and it certainly wouldn't do our marriage any favors. He needs someone new, not you."

"Well, if his interview goes well tomorrow, maybe we can introduce him to someone new."

We finished getting ready for bed and got in our bed. Amy shared a few kisses with me and we went to sleep. In the morning she made breakfast for the three of us and I left for work. Tim's appointment was scheduled for eleven o'clock.

At a little before ten I called Amy, hoping to talk to Tim before he left. Amy answered professionally and told me I had just missed Tim. He had taken her car and was on his way to the University. I told Amy about three single women I knew at work who I thought might be matches for Tim. She didn't get excited about any of them. Our other phone rang and she had to take the call.

That afternoon when I got home Amy's car was parked in the garage. I went inside hoping to see Tim happy and excited. He wasn't. He told me the interview went well and he had been told they had four more people to interview before deciding anything about hiring or scheduling a second interview. He said they promised to get back to him by the end of the week.

I went upstairs to change into casual clothes and noticed the shower had been used and I noticed a wet towel hanging. I asked myself why would Amy take a shower in the middle of the day? The answer was obvious... she got dirty or sweaty.

For the next three days, while I was at work, Tim did some things around the house that had been on my Honey-Do list. Every day when I got home there was a wet towel in our bathroom and the shower had been used. Also, every day Amy got me alone and told me how depressed Tim was.

On Thursday he got a call from the university. They wanted him to come in for a second interview the very next day. From what he said they had narrowed the field to two possible people for the opening, Tim and a guy from Arizona. 

I took the three of us out for dinner that night and all three of us seemed to have a good time. As we left the restaurant I held Amy's hand and by the time we were in the car Tim was once again depressed. When we got home he said he was tired and went down into the basement.

Amy and I went upstairs. She said when we held hands it focused him on not having anyone in his life, at least no one intimate.

"I can say I feel for him, but I don't want to stop being affectionate with you just because he's feeling alone." I said. "Part of me sees Tim as like a brother. I want us to help him. Part of me has hoped he'd grow up for years. He's just so needy! That neediness probably is what pushed Sarah away."

"So, how do we help him? We didn't find anyone we know who is single and can help him. I believe he needs some success in the bedroom to boost him enough to do well tomorrow." Amy said.

"You have an idea?" I asked.

"You thought about having me seduce him." She said. My idea was that someone else seduce him, not Amy. 

"I don't like the idea. We're married. Part of being married is the whole thing about fidelity. If you have sex with him, there will be consequences! Part of me is afraid to have you seduce him! Hell, what if he's a better lover than me, has a bigger cock, or something?"

"It wouldn't be like that! I love you! I like Tim, but I don't love him and anything I might do with him wouldn't be love, just sex." 

I'd never heard Amy talk about being able to differentiate between love and sex. I needed to know I wasn't opening the gate for a return of Free Love from the Sixties or opening up to an open relationship where she had permission to screw anyone anytime. 

"And you'd only do it once, right? Just once to get him built up for tomorrow's interview?"

"Yes! A one-time offer, and I won't be staying the night." She got out of bed and put on a nightgown made of spider webs. She left her robe and slippers in our bedroom. What she had on hid nothing. She kissed me quickly and slipped out our door.

She looked back and said, "Relax! I won't be gone too long."

I heard Amy open the door to the basement. I thought, 'She was too anxious to seduce him. She shot out of here like she couldn't wait to get to Tim.' 

I sat in bed listening hard and not hearing. I couldn't just sit there! I got out of bed, pulled on a pair of boxers and followed Amy.

Halfway down the stairs into the basement I heard Amy, "Enough already. We're tired of you lying to yourself. Sarah convinced you that you're worthless. It's a lie. Sarah had lots of power in your life years ago and you're letting her have too much power now."

"But, she loved me and then just threw me away! Now my whole life is shit!"

"You aren't ugly. You're good looking and smart. Any woman would be lucky to have you."

"Yeah? Where are they?"

"Women look for confidence. You let Sarah walk out and take all yours with her. I remember when we first met you had confidence. I was attracted!"

"You?"

"If I wasn't attracted to you would I be standing here dressed like this, now?"

They both laughed, barely. I noticed Tim's face. Tim looked happy for the first time in years.

Amy said, "I want to make love to you." As soon as she said the words I knew I couldn't stop the action. If I interrupted now Tim would have his bubble burst and bomb his interview in the morning, maybe every interview forever. But, something wasn't right.

Amy bent down and took his hands in hers, lifting him to stand and placing his hands on her breasts. He pulled his hands back and said, "Amy, I can't. You and Jack are my dearest friends in the world. I can't do it to Jack and I can't do it to you."

My hopes soared. I wanted them to stop. Not me to stop them and not for them to do it and Tim was going to stop them!

"I want you..." Amy said, putting his hands back on her breasts.

"No. We..."

"Shhh, don't say another word." My wife interrupted him with a finger across his lips. She leaned to him, replacing the finger with her lips, kissing him softly.

"Close your eyes, Tim. Pretend it's a dream." She spoke as she dropped to her knees. For the tiniest moment I thought he was going to stop her, but he didn't. Amy massaged his quads and then pressured his legs wider apart. Her hands moved up and into his boxers and Tim moaned. Suddenly the end of his shaft poked out the opening of his boxers.

I was shocked! Last time I'd seen his penis we were getting dressed after swimming in the river as teens and I wasn't impressed. What I saw sticking out of his shorts was impressive! Her mouth took the head inside and he groaned again.

She released him, pulled his boxers down and his huge cock jumped up, hitting her in the mouth. She finished getting him naked while sucking the first three or four inches of his rod. Tim's eyes stayed closed, his hands held her head. After about a minute Amy stood and dropped the thin nightgown on the floor.

She kissed Tim's mouth and they began the exploration and probing of two people about to fuck. I struggled to not make noise, not interrupt, and not die. My thoughts went to asking, 'Why did I say yes?', 'What will life be like in the morning?', 'Will she come back to me tonight?'

When Amy relaxed herself onto his bed he slowly followed her down. Amy on her back, legs slowly spreading and Tim kissing her mouth as he followed her down. As she landed she said, "Go slowly. Jack's not that big."

He went slowly. I saw the head part her lips and slowly sink into her. She moaned, lifted her legs and held onto his arms. When he was all the way inside Amy said, "I've never been so full! Oh Tim! Do me."

He stroked out and back in, slowly and as deeply as he could. Amy made all the noises a woman can make that tell a man everything he's doing is perfect. She kept looking at his shaft going in and out of her pussy. My pussy... maybe.

She began lifting her hips to meet his thrusts. She said, "I thought it was beautiful when I saw it. It's more beautiful inside me! Do me harder, Tim! Please!"

He did. Harder, faster, and she squealed in delight. He rolled her on her side and did her there. She rolled onto her knees and he stayed inside her from behind. She said, "I'm cumming... again!" and she shuddered.

A few minutes later and she came again. He stood her beside the bed and lifted her leg, sliding into her cunt. I could see it as if they were positioned just for me to watch. He slammed into her and I saw her fluids drip from her cunt. When she shuddered again he stiffened and said, "Oh Yeah!"

She quickly pulled off him, turned him and he sat on the bed. Amy, my wife, knelt and swallowed most of his softening cock. She used her mouth and her hands on him and soon he was hard again and able to resume fucking. Amy climbed on him and buried his shaft up inside her. The sounds were wet and almost like a butter churn sound. Tim reached up and squeezed her tits hard! She said, "Oh God! Yes! Tim!"

Tim filled her again and she came for him twice more before they collapsed on the bed.

Somehow I was able to slink away, back upstairs to our bed. Ten minutes later she came in, went into the shower and did everything but sing. Her shower lasted a good long time, and then she came to bed in a t-shirt and panties. She got into bed and I said, "Well?"

"I love you. I think he feels good and he'll do fine in the interview." She kissed me a quick kiss that smelled and tasted like toothpaste and she at least acted like she went to sleep. I thought about what I'd seen and what she just said. Was she a great actress for me... or for Tim?

The alarm woke me so I must have been asleep. I got up. Amy got up and made breakfast for the three of us. I got a kiss good-bye. I left at seven-thirty. Tim didn't need to be at the university until eleven.

A little after ten I called. Amy answered professionally. I said, "Reassure me."

"Jack, I don't love Tim. I love you."

"What happened last night won't ever happen again?" I asked.

"No."

"I don't ever want you to... ever again."

"I won't. Relax!" The tone of her voice almost made me believe her.

"Ok." We talked about other things and I went back to work, almost feeling better. I got actual work done, handled two difficult problems and had a productive meeting with my boss. Something deep in my mind, some insecurity prompted me to call the university. Tim had said he was interviewing for a position in the sociology department. I got the call transferred to that department and spoke to the department secretary.

"I'm calling to check on the interviews being held today for the associate professor position in your department." 

"I'm afraid you must have the wrong department. We have no openings and therefore no interviews." The department secretary said. I questioned further and found out that all interviews were held in July and December when there were openings. I thanked her for her help and hung up. It was early November.

All my thoughts of taking the three of us out for dinner to celebrate a good interview went out the window. Thoughts of the acting job they had both done to get me to agree that they could fuck had me want to nominate them for Academy Awards and to kill them. Tim had come to my home to fuck my wife! Amy wanted him to fuck her and had tricked me into agreeing to a one-time fuck.

One time? I believed it had been daily. Every day while I was at work they were fucking and then showering before I came home. I needed to catch them in the act!

I spoke to my boss and took the rest of the day off. I drove home and parked three houses away from our house. As quietly as possible I let myself into the house through the back door.

I opened the back door and heard Amy's voice, "Harder!"

I knew what that meant. They were fucking! After she promised! I climbed the stairs to our bedroom and saw them. The bedroom door was wide open and Amy was on her knees facing away from the door with Tim holding her hips and slamming his cock into her. Tim was not wearing a condom! I could see his bare cock every time he pulled back. Every thrust was punctuated with the slapping sounds of two people who had been at it a while. I saw sweat on both of them.

"That's what I've wanted! I'm cumming again!" Her body shook in orgasm.

"I'm cumming again, too!" Tim panted as he slammed in one last time, shooting millions of sperm into her.

They started down from their high. Tim didn't withdraw, but kept stroking slowly as he lost his hardness.

"You are amazing!" Amy said. "I think I came five... Oh Shit! Jack!" She said as she turned to look back at Tim and saw me in the doorway. Tim jerked his shrinking cock out of Amy and I saw a white gob of cum follow his cock out of her ass, just before she covered herself with a sheet.

Tim was looking for his clothes, cum dripping from his cock on our bedroom floor. Amy cried, then looked up at me and said, "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry! It wasn't supposed to happen."

"How was it supposed to happen? You were going to be all showered and back acting like Amy, my wife, when I got home? Then you and Tim could fuck every day while I worked? How was it supposed to happen, Amy?"




Promises, Promises...



"No! It wasn't like that!"

"You were fucking my best friend behind my back and in our bed! Didn't you get enough last night?"

"I didn't plan this!" Amy yelled.

"Right! You brought him up here to show him the curtains and ended up naked with him stuck in your cunt and your ass for five orgasms... by accident!"

"Please, let me explain," Amy cried out. "Tim did so well they scheduled a follow-up interview. We popped a bottle of champagne to celebrate and before we knew it things were getting..."

Tim said, "Amy said it was Ok with you."

Amy went on, "I knew it was wrong Jack, but he was so happy and last night worked so well... I didn't want to turn him down now and hurt his confidence. Then last night would have meant nothing and... and... I only did it for you."

I smiled. "So his confidence was more important than your promises to me. Last night you promised only once. This morning you reaffirmed the promise. You lied both times." I faced Tim. "Tim, Go pack and get out. I don't care where you go or how you get there. I do care how fast. If you're still in this house in ten minutes, you will be hurt more than you have ever been hurt in your life."

He headed for the doorway. I looked back at Amy. She was pulling her panties up and I noticed she had shaved her snatch! For five years I had asked for her to do that for me and she'd turned me down!

"Now, she's even shaved her cunt for you! She turned me down for five years! Take her with you! She's obviously not my wife anymore. She's your bitch!"

Amy collapsed on the floor. "No! Jack, please. I went a little crazy, that's all. It's you I love, not Tim!"

"Now, you can go a lot crazy! Go anywhere, fuck anytime you want. You are not my wife!" 

Tim went down into the basement. I got two suitcases out of Amy's closet and packed them with her stuff. I hadn't mentioned that I knew he didn't have an interview. She cried, begged and pleaded while she sat on the floor wearing only panties. I noticed a hickey on her tit that I didn't give her. When the suitcases were full, I carried the suitcases out to her car and tossed them in the back seat. I found her purse in the kitchen and took her house keys, the keys to my car, all our joint credit cards and the checkbook for our joint account. I tossed her purse on the front seat of her car.

I climbed the stairs and found Tim in our bedroom watching Amy get dressed. I said, "Which part of get out didn't you understand?"

"Jack, we're sorry. We were just celebrating! I got a second interview!"

"Really? Where?" I asked.

"At the university."

"I called the university. All their interviews are held in July or December! I pointed down the stairs and he went. He knew I knew they had been lying and fucking for a week.

"Amy, your suitcases and your purse are in your car. Take Tim with you! If you aren't out of here in five minutes you'll regret it the rest of both your lives!"

"I already do! Why does it matter if I fucked him once or twice? You said it was Ok last night!" She screamed as she pulled on her shoes.

"Because you promised me once and only once... and then lied to me! The difference is I can never trust anything you say again. You can excuse any lie by saying, "I just had to have his big cock in my ass again! I'm not responsible!"

She dried her tears, stood up and walked down the stairs. I followed. Tim met her at her car, shoved his suitcase in the back seat and got in with her. Her face was covered with tears again. She started her car, looked up at me and mouthed the words, "I'm sorry."

I said, "So am I. Now go!"

She shifted, took one glance in her rear view mirror and stomped on the gas. Her VW shot down the driveway in reverse and out into the street. I both heard and felt the collision. Her green VW disappeared under a bright yellow cement truck. Smoke, dust and steam billowed out instantly. The horn of her VW sounded in one long blare. 

I grabbed my cell phone, dialed 9-1-1 and told them about the accident. The EMT's were two blocks from us and in less than two minutes they and three trucks were there.

The cement truck was parked on top of the VW. It had hit Amy's side first and climbed up and mostly over the car. I watched, crying, as the firefighters did everything possible to free Tim and Amy. After ten minutes Tim was out. They put his mangled body on a gurney and parked it next to the ambulance. I walked to him and he opened one eye. I leaned closer to him.

"You're dead. Now or later, you are dead. Count on it. You miserable bastard!" His eye closed and I walked back to my front yard and sat on the porch. One of the firefighters walked over to me and asked if I knew them. I looked him in the eyes and said, "Yes. An hour ago he was my best friend and she was my wife. When I came home they were fucking in my bed." I pointed at Tim as an EMT covered him with a sheet.

"Holy Shit! Well, we're taking them to Porter Hospital. They have the best spinal care in Denver." He took three steps back towards the VW and said, "Goddamn!" He shook his head and continued walking back to the wreckage. Twenty minutes later they got Amy out of the car. They got her on a backboard, loaded her in the ambulance and drove away. I called the auto club and arranged to have the car hauled away.

I locked up the house and drove to the hospital. She was in surgery for nine hours. When they put her in her room I was there. She looked horrible! Tubes, wires and things I'd never seen before surrounded her. She was all but encased to hold her legs and torso from moving. Her head had been shaved and bandaged. The doctors told me about the surgery, the damage and the prognosis. I had no questions. As they talked I listened and tears tracked down my face. More than once a nurse gave me tissues. I sat beside her bed holding her hand for nineteen hours after the doctor's left.

She had drains draining things out of her that dripped into bags hanging from the side of the bed. Bandages on her head that partially covered the bruises and her face no longer looked like Amy. One eye socket was bandaged closed. The eye was gone. I knew her spine was broken in six places. Her jaw was wired closed. I watched her monitors for hours. The nurses brought me food and even a diet Coke. I didn't say anything.

After nineteen hours, she opened her eye and saw me. A tear slid from that eye. A nurse came in and checked her vital signs. I stood, making it easier for the nurse to do what she needed to do. I kept holding Amy's hand and she kept looking at me. I waited about a minute after the nurse backed off before I spoke.

"Amy, I love you. I've loved you and trusted you for all the years since we were in college. I watched you back down the driveway taking my oldest friend and yourself out of my life and I cried. I was the last one to ever speak to Tim. He's dead. I've sat here holding your hand and crying since you came out of surgery yesterday. When I let go of your hand in a few minutes it will not be because I don't love you. I will let go of your hand because you killed our marriage, just like you killed your lover and my best friend. Tim is dead. You killed him and you killed us." Tears were flowing from her. She couldn't speak or move. "When I let go I won't ever speak to you again, dance with you again, sleep next to you, kiss you, have sex with you, hold you in my arms again, trust you or look at you again. You killed all of that. I hope fucking Tim was worth it."

I let go of her hand, turned and walked past the nurse standing beside the door crying. I walked all the way out to my car and went home. Amy's VW and the cement truck were both gone and the debris cleaned up from the street.

As I walked to the back door my cell rang. It was the hospital. "Mr. Knolls, We need you to come back to the hospital."

"Amy died?"

"Sir, we need you to come back to the hospital."

"She wanted to donate any usable organs she has. I'll come back and fill out the papers." I went and they took whatever they could use. It was well after midnight that night when I got home. I left the next morning after a few hours sleeping on the couch. There was no funeral. I stayed away from home for two weeks and spent every day and night grieving in a cabin in the mountains. I grieved for my marriage, for the loss of my wife and my best friend. I grieved for the loss of trust, the loss of our future together.

The day I got home I spent the day cleaning house. The Salvation Army came and got all Amy's clothes and other personal items. They took the two beds too. At nine the next morning my phone rang. The number was from Michigan. I answered and a hostile sounding female voice asked, "Is Tim there?"

"Who's asking?" I asked.

"This is his wife, Sharron."

"I didn't know he was married again. From what he told us he hadn't even dated after Sarah and he split up."

"He dated alright. Dated and tricked me into marrying him. He said he was going out to Colorado looking for a better job. I'll bet that was a lie too." She said.

"Tim died almost three weeks ago."

"Jealous husband kill him?" She asked.

"No. My wife killed him and herself."

She told me she had just found out that Tim had started a pregnancy in their eighteen-year-old neighbor before he flew to Denver for the job interview. She gave me her address and I sent her the death certificate. She wasn't sad he was gone.

That was Christmas week 2002. I went back to work and as they say, life goes on. Life without Amy. Life in a house that is always empty. Life where I don't have a wife to care for and care for me. Life without someone I trust to share my bed and my life. 

Yesterday I saw a yellow cement truck and found myself crying. I do miss the Amy I thought I was married to.

{Your comments and votes are welcome. Personal attacks on me are a waste of time. I have relatives and ex-wives who enjoy personal attacks on me and they have had years of practice. Comments that assist in making me a better writer are welcomed.}



Promises Promises



I had been very clear in my Personals ad: "I'm not interested in penetration! But if you live in the Valley and won't mind me watching you jack off and come all over yourself while you watch me touch myself, leave me a message at 5991." 

I had never, ever placed an ad like this one. I had been thinking about doing it for years and then, one day out of the blue, I found myself phoning into a hook-up site I saw advertised on late night tv, setting up an account and placing this dirty, desperate, horny ad. I'd waited until my husband was deep asleep one night. 

I slipped downstairs and got comfortable in the reclining easy chair which we keep covered with sheepskin. The house was dark and quiet. I turned on the tv and kept the volume low, pulled a fleece throw over me, and reached around in the dark for the phone handset on the table next to me. 

I had already memorized the phone number and dialed it from memory. I felt like hanging up as soon as the line connected and I heard the sleazy canned music and the recorded voice welcoming me to "The Meet Market." Ugh, I thought, "What am I doing? Do I really want to see some stranger jacking off and coming all over himself? Do I really want someone to see ME at my most vulnerable? What if Mark ever found me out..." 

So many questions were running through my mind, but as soon as I realized that my panties were soaked just thinking about everything, I knew that I couldn't deny myself my curiosity anymore. I opened an account and started to record my ad. 

The first few attempts were awful, awful, awful! I was trying so hard to be quiet that you couldn't even hear what I was saying. By the fifth try, though, I realized that Mark was in a near coma upstairs and would never wake up. 

I raised my voice, stuck out my chest, and spoke slowly and clearly. "I'm not interested in penetration! But if...." I listened back to my whole message and could still hear a nervous shakiness in my voice. Perfect. I did not linger on the phone -- I hung up immediately after confirming the ad and pulled the fleece throw over me. 

Using my knuckles, I rubbed my sopping wet clit through my panties. With my other hand, I used the hard rubber buttons of the remote control to inflame my nipples poking up against my see-through nightie. The thought of watching a total stranger masturbate in front of me -- oh! 

I slid my panties off and felt the luxurious sheepskin cradle my ass. I closed my eyes, rubbed my clit with palm and ran my fingers in between my wet swollen lips. My nipples were both completely hard. I came so intensely that I thought I was going to pass out! The sheepskin was wet with my sweat and pussy juices. As my cunt pulsed and spasmed, I thought, "I can't wait til tomorrow..."

I woke up as if it were any other day. I made Mark breakfast and coffee, made sure I knew what he wanted for dinner and, when he was ready to leave, I saw him off at the front door. As he was leaving, I said, "Bye honey," and I pulled myself towards him. Instead of the usual peck on the cheek, I leaned into him, kissed him on the lips fully and parted my lips enough to signal my submission. 

"Mmmmm," he murmured, "Come here." He had one free hand and used it to cup my ass and mash my pelvis into his. He opened his mouth hungrily and our tongues and lips explored each other feverishly. He never said anything but I'm sure he must have been thinking, "What's gotten into her!?" Mark rubbed my ass in big hard circles, making me even hotter. We kissed deeper. His hand moved from my ass. He ran the back of his hand over my belly and hips. I ground into him, moaning. The whole time, all I could think of was watching another man stroke his cock for me. I was so excited and felt so dirty, so naughty. I sucked on Mark's tongue hungrily. 

All of sudden he pinched my left nipple so hard that it sucked all the air out of my lungs, "Aaaaaah...." I quietly gasped. "Mark, oh, Mark not so hard." 

He stared back at me with a playful but angry look, "Save it," he said, "You're making me late for work." He pinched my nipple even tighter. "Are you trying to make me late for work?" 

The electricity between us was undeniable. "No," I answered with my head down. "I don't want you to be late." 

Mark's hand reached down to my ass. He lifted up my nightie, grabbed the back of my panties in his fist, and pulled up hard, giving me a wedgie. He was pulling so hard on my panties that he almost pulled me off the ground. "You'd better be here when I get back from work," he hissed. He was treating me so roughly, so meanly. 

"I will!" I insisted. "I promise." 

He pecked me on the cheek and, just before he ducked out, he said, "Be good!"

I waited for 15 minutes after Mark left before I curled up on my recliner, sheepskin and all. I dialed the number, logged in, and couldn't believe my ears when robo-lady announced, "You have seven messages." Seven messages?! Before I'd even heard the end of the first voicemail, my pussy had once again soaked the sheepskin and my hands were stroking my slick pussy towards the first of many orgasms that day.

I sat in the food court at the table closest to the mall's public washrooms - just as I had arranged with Anthony, the first man to respond to my ad. I was sucking on an Orange Julius and I was wearing what he requested: a lace bra, a light blouse, a short skirt, long black boots and sheer pantyhose (no panties). He had asked that I make a slit in the crotch of my pantyhose. 

While I sat waiting for him, I could feel the seam in the crotch of my pantyhose rubbing against my vulva. I was already moist. We had described ourselves over the the phone and I was expecting to see a dark-haired, Italian man with salt and pepper hair walk towards me. I was about ten minutes late because there had been an unexpected traffic snarl that had delayed me. I immediately began to worry when I didn't see him there. 

"I blew it!" I thought. Or maybe he got cold feet. I sucked the dregs of my drink and continued to wait. I was ready to throw in the towel when I felt someone standing right behind me. I didn't turn around but I knew it was him. 

"It's about time," he whispered in my ear. "Don't turn around, just count to ten and then follow me. You are absolutely gorgeous, by the way. I can't wait to jack off for you." 

I immediately started to sweat. I thought, "This is it - there's no turning back." I felt my cheeks flush.

I gathered my things immediately and followed him. He was already ten feet ahead of me by the time I turned around. He was walking quickly. I only saw him from behind but wow -- he had a great looking ass in those jeans! 

I saw him duck into a private bathroom meant for 'families'. When I opened the door, the bathroom was pitch black. He pulled me into him and immediately we began necking like teenagers. I could tell he'd just had a shower -- he smelled so goooood and he was an amazing kisser. He pushed me up against the door and I heard him click the lock shut. My mouth froze open and he plowed his tongue deeper into me. 

I melted into him, weak in the knees. I let his hands wander and explore the most private parts of me. His rough-palmed hands pulled my ass cheeks apart while I sucked his tongue.

Anthony's cock was pressing against me. I let myself open up to him, inviting. He started lifting up my skirt and I broke away. I heard him laugh, "Hey you can't blame a guy for trying!" I laughed too and he breathed into my ear. "I'm more than happy to help you fulfill your fantasy and nothing more," he coaxed.

"Thanks, I appreciate that," I answered. 

I could smell the soapy scent of his neck. His hand reached up the wall behind me and turned on the light behind me. I saw his face for the first time. He asked, "Are you ready?" 

I didn't say anything. I half-sat, half-leaned against the counter and rubbed my nipples through my blouse. I got a good look at him. He was handsome! Definitely handsome. He had a five o'clock shadow and dark curly hair. He had dark hair and beautiful dark eyes. We couldn't help but smile at each other and I saw he had an endearing gap between his front teeth. 

"Don't start without me!" He said as he lowered the toilet cover so he could sit on it. He undid his belt buckle and I could tell he was already well on his way to a raging hard-on. He was hot. 

He rubbed his throbbing bulge through his jeans and stared at me in silence. All I could hear was the sound of fingers on fabric. He stopped smiling. The look on Anthony's face turned hard and cold and serious. All of a sudden I felt a rush of blood flood into my cheeks. 

He unzipped his jeans and lifted up his t-shirt. His stomach was covered with dark fuzzy hair. He pulled his jeans down off his ankles and left on his boxers. "Take off your skirt. I want to see your pantyhose," he demanded. 

I unzipped my skirt and let it fall to the floor. I kicked it off to the side and showed him the full length of my legs, wrapped in pantyhose, and my beautiful black boots. I knew he could easily see my wet pussy lips through the slit I'd made in the panthyhose. 

I rubbed my clit in tight, hard little circles through the rough but silky fabric of the hosiery. The seams were soaked, chaffing my sensitive skin.

He ran his fingers up and down his boxers, through which I clearly saw the outline of his cock. He and I stared at each other intently. I'd never felt so exposed. Anthony showed me the tip of his cock. It was beautiful, I immediately felt a rush to my pussy lips. 

"You like my cock?" He asked. He fished the rest of his cock out of his boxers and stroked and teased the length of his shaft. 

"Mmmm... yes, I do," I quietly replied. 

"You like watching my hand rubbing my cock? Tell me what you like." He was staring right at my crotch, staring at the wet spot forming in the seam rubbing against my pussy and my fingers. The last thing I wanted to do was talk but I could tell he was turned on by the sound of my voice. 

"Uhnnnn," I groaned, "I like how thick your cock is. I like how hairy you are. I like how wet you're making me." 

He closed his eyes for a moment and his cock twitched and spasmed; he had to stop stroking in order to keep from coming. "You wanna see me come?" 

Now it was my turn to show some self-control. I nodded but said nothing. 

"You wanna see me come? Up close?" He marched over, making sure I could see him jacking off his cock. "I want to see how wet you are. Show me how wet you are." He was right up against me now, pushing into my nipples with his chest, moving my knees apart with his hips and thighs. His boxers hit the floor. 

"Move your hand out of the way," he said. "Close your eyes. Close them tight. Open your mouth. Open your legs. Wider. Now move your hand out of the way. I want to feel how wet you are..." 

He brushed his mouth right up against my ear and placed both of his hands all over my breasts, pinching my nipples through the fabric of my blouse and bra. He wasn't just pinching though, he was twisting and rubbing and pulling, making the fabric from my bra scratch into my nipples. 

"OH!" I gasped -- my biggest weakness is having my nipples pinched. I felt a jolt of electricity race between my nipples and my pussy.

"Sorry, am I pinching you too hard?" He asked, concerned. 

I nodded an emphatic yes, my eyes shut tight. 

"Too bad," he hissed, and squeezed even harder. 

A rush of hot liquid spurted out of me. I felt it drizzle over my busy hand, down my leg, through my pantyhose. 

"Yeaaaah, yeah," he said. "You like that, don't you?" 

I nodded yes again. My free hand was resting against his bare hairy chest, under his t-shirt. He leaned into me, moved his cock right up against the back of my hand. I could feel him grind into me, cock, balls, sticky wet pubic hair. 

My mouth, fully open, let out a whimpering low moan. He rammed his tongue into my mouth and I instinctively made a tight O with my lips and cheeks. His tongue fucked the wet hole of my mouth. 

"Uhns" and "ohhhhhs" flowed out of me freely.

"Let me feel how wet you are..." he again whispered. 

I stopped masturbating and pulled wide the slit in the pantyhose in order to make way for his hand which he was lowering down towards my pussy. I waited for his fingers to start massaging my slick pussy but instead I felt him rub the head of his cock against my swollen lips and clit. 

"NO!" I admonished as I opened my eyes.

He looked right at me and reassured me, "I'm not going to fuck you, I promise, I just want to see how wet you are, I promise. I just want to see, okay? You're so beautiful. Please let me just feel how wet you are." 

He kissed me tenderly, almost paternally, and eventually I relaxed and let my body soften. I opened my legs slightly and he moved in closer, his hips shifting and rocking. He moved both my arms up over his shoulders and I could feel his muscular shoulders and biceps. He pulled me in so tight that I couldn't lower my arms.

Anthony butted his cock head right up against my wet pussy lips, slipping and sliding his shaft against the wetness along the length of my sensitive folds. "I promise, I just want to see how wet you are, mmmm, so nice, so wet, mmmmm, you smell so good." 

It felt so good, hearing him say these things. 

"Oh, you are so wet, aren't you?" He used his thighs to open my legs wider. 

"No fucking, okay? Promise me," I begged him as I closed my eyes. 

He opened up my mouth with his lips, kissed me deeply for what seemed forever, and then said, "I promise not to fuck you." Now he was running more than just the head of his cock up and over my wet pussy and clit. I squirmed to pull away but couldn't lower my arms.

"I promise not to stick my cock inside of you." 

He reached down with his other hand and I heard him ripping my pantyhose a bigger hole. He pushed my legs apart with his hips and told me to hold still. "I just want to see how wet you are."

The more I squirmed, the more of Anthony's cock I could feel dipping into my wetness, rubbing against my swollen lips and clit. 

He wasn't whispering anymore. He raised his voice and it buzzed inside my ears: "I promise not to fuck you til I come inside and onto you. I promise I'm not going to fuck your precious pussy or make you come all over my cock, okay? I promise you -- NO fucking!" And right when he said "NO", he pulled me onto him and and rammed his cock repeatedly into my wetness; just a few inches at first and then, before I knew it, he was in deep, fucking me so hard and fast with his impossibly thick cock that I wanted to start crying. 

All I could muster were whines and moans. I tried pushing him away with my arms and hands, but he was unstoppable and unbelievably amazing. I willingly and shamefully released to his thrusts.

"Awww, I lied, didn't I?" He said as he fucked me, "I am so so so so sorry. Poor baby, will you ever forgive me? I totally lied to you, didn't I? I totally lied. You trusted me and I tricked you, didn't I? You asked me NOT to fuck you and now that's exactly what I'm doing -- oooooooh you're getting fucked by a total stranger, aren't you? Aren't you?" 

I nodded a quiet yes. I opened up my legs now willingly and held onto the counter while he worked his cock in and out of me expertly. 

"Do you even know my real name?" He asked me. I gasped, shocked once more at my recklessness. I found myself grinding into him, onto his cock, involuntarily.

All of a sudden his cock head found my g-spot and a look of panicked pleasure came over my face and I stopped breathing. All I said was, "Ohhhhh... ohhhh... ohhhh...." I couldn't hide my ecstasy and "Anthony" knew it. 

He groaned into my ear, "There you are. Yeah, there you are right there, huh? Right there, baby 'ohhh ohh ohhh' you dirty little freak. I know what you like. You wanted me to fuck you all along, didn't you? That was your plan, wasn't it?" 

I shook my head no but it was too late, he was fucking me right and he knew it. He fucked me so mmm mmm good. He put his hands under my ass and used my hips to absorb his hard and furious fucking and, before long, my pussy, my clit, my, his cock and balls were drenched in each other's juices. 

Anthony's stiff, thick cock kept rubbing against my hungry g-spot. His balls slammed up into and against my wet crack and made squeaking noises. I could tell the pantyhose were rubbing the bottom of his balls. He put his hands on my knees and lifted my legs up higher, pulling me towards him more, almost pulling me completely off the sink counter. This new position, or maybe it was his insatiable lust, made my slick, hot pussy tighten. He moved his hips in and out, side to side, up and down, in every direction possible, letting his thick cock drill into me. 

I whimpered like a whipped dog, his cock was rubbing into my engorged g-spot with every single sexy stroke. He pulled my ass cheeks up and apart every time he rammed his cock into me; it hurt but it felt so amazing, like our bodies were made for each other. 

I groaned and moaned with every aching stroke. He stiffened up and then it happened -- his come spurted out of him and all over my pussy, my lips, my pantyhose, my legs, and my boots. He let out a long and animal grunt and pulled out his cock and let the rest of his cum drip all over my thighs and pantyhose. I almost fainted.

He put a hand on the back of my neck and forced me to look down at myself while his cock dripped cum everywhere. Still dripping, he shoved his cock back inside me just in time to feel my cunt spasming uncontrollably. 

"Nice!" He gloated. "Mmmmmm.... Yeah, yeah, yeah! Just like that, huh? You like it just like that, don't you? Did you come for me? You like being fucked by me, don't you? Did your wet little cunt come for me?" 

He continued to taunt me while my cunt grabbed at his cock involuntarily. Once he knew my ride was over, he pulled out and kissed me deeply and wetly. 

We frenched for a long long time. I let him finger my wetness while I buried my face into his neck.

"You're a mess," he said as he pulled me off the counter. "You're a dirty filthy mess. Suck me off now and make it good." 

He sat back down on the toilet and I knelt before him, my cunt throbbing and pulsing and dripping like a leaky faucet. He held my head in both his hands and directed where he wanted my attention. 

I methodically sucked off his cock and balls with my mouth and lips and tongue while tears of shame and ecstasy rolled down my cheeks.

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

I drove home in auto-pilot, my mind distracted by one undeniable thought: I had crossed the line. 

My wet pussy was throbbing. I looked a mess. I looked down at my bare legs and thought about my brand new pantyhose which were now ruined - covered with cum and rips - and now in the hands of a stranger.

After I had sucked off "Anthony" he made me take off my pantyhose and give them to him. 

He said, "I intend to jack off into these later while I think about you and the way you let me fuck you so easily. I'm going to leave you a voicemail and it's going to be the sound of me cumming all over your pretty little pantyhose. You can play with yourself while you listen to it." By the time I got home I was hornier than I'd ever been in my whole life.



Promises Promises Ch. 02



I drove home in a fog, radio off, head filled with images I kept replaying over and over in my mind. All I could think of was how far across the line I had strayed, how deep I had allowed myself to go with a total stranger. 

I looked down at my hands gripping the steering wheel and remembered the feel of "Anthony's" hair in my hands, the shape of his head as it bobbed, his tongue pumping into my wet mouth, my lips and breath connecting with his. My tongue wrapping around his. 

I looked down at my wrinkled blouse and remembered the way he pinched and pulled and squeezed my nipples through my blouse, through my bra. He was selfish and self-centred and cocky. He didn't even care about ripping the beautiful black lace bra I had carefully chosen to wear, something he had specifically requested. When I told him that he was pinching my nipples far too hard he hissed "toooooo baaaaad" and squeezed even harder, making me spurt hot clear liquid over my fingers, down my thighs, onto my pantyhose, into my boots, some of it landing in spots on the tile floor of that locked mall bathroom.

As I stopped at a light, I shifted in my seat, trying to ignore the sopping wet swamp between my legs. My sensitive nipples were chaffing against the black lace of my bra. Even though my face was flushed hot with blood, there were goosebumps on my arms. 

I shivered as I remembered his hips and legs wedging mine apart, how he used his knees to brace my thighs apart, wide enough to allow him to slide his rubbery cock into the oily wetness I couldn't stop from leaking out of me. The feel of his hot hands as he steadied my ass, pulled me into him. 

I had been naive to believe his promises that he wasn't going to penetrate me, that he wasn't going to fuck me, that he "only wanted to feel how wet I was, how wet my pussy was, how hot I was." I thought he was only going to use his fingers...

In the silence of my car ride home, I replayed his deep groans and long moans when the bulbous head of his thick cock finally made contact with my swollen folds. When I realized what he was planning on doing next, I hastily reminded him of what he had agreed to over the phone: "No fucking. No penetration, just watching..." 

With a believable sincerity he told me that he wouldn't break his promise. Even while he was roughly ripping a bigger slit into my pantyhose, he promised me repeatedly that he wasn't going to fuck me. He promised he (rip) wouldn't even (rip) try. He wasn't interested in fucking, he only wanted to (RIP) see how wet he'd made me. 

When we had talked over the phone, he told me he couldn't wait to let me watch him masturbate, watch him stroke his cock, tug and rub and pull on his cock until jets of cum pouring out. That was what we had agreed to, that was all I wanted. 

Our encounter started off that way, but the moment I saw him stop masturbating, cross the floor and sidle up next to me while I was masturbating, I knew. We both knew. He pinned me against the counter and I protested, but I didn't resist. I didn't push him away, I didn't stop rubbing my wet pussy. I didn't even try. He pumped his cock against the back of my masturbating hand. My hums turning to stifled moans. He moved in so close that it was suffocating. He held me close, hard, strategically, so that I couldn't lower my arms.

I let him shimmy my weak thighs apart, let him rub the wet slit in his cock all over the wet slit of my pussy. I let him grab at my ass with his big rough hands, let him pull my ass cheeks apart... 

"Anthony" knew he had me. He played me. He tauntingly promised, "NO fucking" and that with that he pinned my legs as wide as they would go and drove the length of his thick cock into me, three or four short jabs at first and then alllll the way in, as deep as his balls would let him. He rammed me into my own ass, squished my pussy tight against his cock and fucked me hard. He grunted and gloated as he watched me grind my g-spot onto the cum-filled head of his out-of-control cock. 

Liquid gushed out of me and all over everything. He pumped me full of short quick strokes and hard direct words: "Fuck ME that feels good. Uhn. Yeah yeah yeah. Niiiiiice.... there you are," he whispered between breaths, our eyes wide open as he let me feel sweet torture. 

"Fucking tease," he said. "I'm gonna get you... Uhhhnnn, yeah, and now I'm gonna make you give it to me..." 

Fucker. Taunting me while he fucked me, fucking me while he delved deeper and deeper until we both came so hard that the cum shot out of him, onto me and all over the both of us. He pulled out and made me watch while he jizzed all over my pantyhose, my cunt, my legs, the backs of my knees. Then he plunged back into me just in time to feel my spasms clench at full intensity, my breaths trapped in suspended animation. Wet and spent, he left me with barely enough energy to suckle the juicy cummy remains out of of his cock. 

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

I pulled into the driveway, I still had hours before Mark was due home. Plenty of time to clean up and make him an extra special meal. I wanted Mark to fall in love with me again. I clicked on the garage door opener and rounded the corner into our driveway, smiling. My heart stopped as I struggled to make sense of what I saw: Mark's car already parked in the garage. 

Before I could think of what to do with that information, the door leading to the kitchen opened. Mark stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

He watched me as I pulled in. Waited for me to step out of the car.

"Hi Honey," I said, smiling as I grabbed my purse from the passenger side. I tried to manoeuvre the purse so that it would distract from my wrinkled blouse. Luckily I had recently brushed hair and re-applied lipstick, having cleaned as best I could back at the mall.

"You're home early," I said nonchalantly as I leaned in to kiss him, my heart pounding.

"Where have you been?" He asked as he pulled away from me, arms still crossed.

"I went to get a pedicure but they were double-booked when I got there so I came home," I said, almost convincingly.

There was a long awkward moment of silence. Mark's eyes burned into me. I knew that I'd been caught.

He gave me the once-over, stopping at my short skirt. I could feel my shoulders stiffen.

"When's the last time you wore that?" He asked as he looked at my skirt. It was still damp in places from the emergency laundering after my encounter with a man whose real name I didn't even know.

"This skirt? Oh, I don't know... September?" I felt myself blush.

Mark uncrossed his arms and that was when I saw something he'd had in his hand: our cordless phone. "I've been home since noon," he said. "Time enough to do a little investigating. Who exactly is Michael?" 

I lost all ability to reason. I sputtered out some incomprehensible jumble of sounds.

"Who the fuck is Michael?" Mark repeated as he quickly blocked my way. He pinned me against the wall, one hand against the wall behind my head. He wagged the phone at me as he asked me, "Do you think I don't know how to use the Redial button on our phone? Or that I don't know how to figure out who's been calling the house?" 

I'd never seen Mark so angry, so intense, so fired up. His eyes searched mine and he breathed so heavily that it made me shiver. Marked asked, "How long have you been fucking him?" 

I immediately regretted my attempt to defend myself. I stupidly blurted out, "It was the first time we ever met!"

Mark leaned in, his hot breaths heating up my lips. "This was your first time meeting him? And you went dressed like that? And did you fuck him?" 

I slumped into the wall and tried to make myself as small as possible. I turned my head to the side as Mark dragged the rubber buttons on the phone handset over the goosebumps rising up on my ass, still covered by my skirt. "Did you fuck him?" I felt Mark's chest heaving, felt his whiskers against my ear.

Mark rubbed the handset all over my ass as he spread my feet with his shins. He propped himself under me, lining up the centre of my pelvis with his. His movements were deliberate, controlled. And controlling. Mark, intense, asked, "Now did you fuck HIM, or did HE fuck YOU?"

Hearing Mark ask me that question flooded my head with memories of my encounter. All of a sudden I was hit with images of "Anthony" or "Michael" or whoever he is. All of a sudden I was overcome with emotion. All the feelings of elation I had felt with that stranger this afternoon were feelings that I now desperately wanted to share with Mark. I opened myself up to Mark, who was grinding himself into me, eyes shut tight. I tried to control myself, but my pelvis started involuntarily rocking and tilting, I could feel the blunt outline of Mark's cock grind into me through the stiff fabric of his pants. I felt a light scratching on my thighs and ass. I looked down and realized I still had my skirt on.

Mark pinned me against the wall and pressed his lips against my ear. "That's what it was, wasn't it? He fucked you, huh? And did he fuck you good? Did he fuck you good and hard? Did you fuck him back?" Mark pushed himself into me. He bumped the rubber buttons from the phone's keypad along the length of my sensitive crack. 

I squirmed like a baitworm nearing a hook until my clit finally connected with a sweet spot between the slippery knobby numbers on the keypad. Mark held the handset while I ground shamelessly into it. Mark pumped his hips in unison with mine. Jolts and spasms rocked my body. With each jolt, my pussy eked out more and more liquid. I couldn't help it.

I said nothing. I kept my head turned to one side as Mark asked questions like, "Were you wet?" and "Did you suck his cock?" Mark's arms and legs formed a cage around me while his hands fumbled to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He dropped the handset to the floor.

"Did you open up wide for him? Huh? Did you hold your wet pussy lips open for him while he fucked you?" Mark's pants were now wide open and, even with my eyes averted, I recognized a sound that made my stomach tighten. I heard Mark pulling his leather belt through the wrinkle-free beltloops around his waist.

"Oh Mark!" I begged, "This is the first time I ever did anything like this. I swear!"

"Really? You think that I'm going to believe that?" He wrapped the belt around my wrists, bound them into a ball in front of me. My wrists are so small that Mark can grab both of them into one of his hands. His 'discipline sessions' always start with my hands being taken out of the equation. This time I cooperated fully, afraid of Mark losing control if I fought back. 

Once my arms were restrained, Mark unzipped my skirt and yanked it down to the ground. He made me step out of my skirt, knowing I would have to look down in time to see him pull his cock out of his briefs. 

"Where are your panties?" Mark hissed at me as his frothy wet cock and balls rubbed nastily against my bare skin. 

He ripped open my blouse and pulled both of my tits out, by their nipples, out of my bra cups. He pinched harder. 

"Where are your panties?" He asked me again through clenched teeth.

I stared back at him, sucking back the burning pain.

"I wasn't wearing any," I boldly challenged.

That put Mark over the edge. His hands moved from my titties to my ass cheeks, which he groped feverishly. He shoved his cock into me. Quick. Fast. Furious. Hot. As soon as he was in, my pussy took over. My hips spasmed and I fucked Mark back with a matched excitement. We both stared at each other intensely for a delicious eternity and then, all of a sudden, Mark slowed down. Slowed right down, and closed his eyes. I felt is along with him, something brand new. I manipulated my hips to help him feel it more, and and I know it turned him on: the sticky wetness of another man's cum enveloping Mark's thick cock inside my velvet glove.

I opened my mouth wide and begged Mark to kiss me. He plowed his tongue into me and I sucked and sucked and sucked. He let me know, more than a few times, when my sucking wasn't to his liking. 

Mark moved his hands to my hips and held me steady while he fucked me like a rabbit, quick sharp jabs, quick short breaths. 

This always opens up my floodgates. "Ahhhhhhhhhh, ohhhhh my gaaaaawwwwd, ohhhhhh, ohhhhh Marrrrrrrrrk," I cooed as his balls slapped against me, into me, all over me. My pussy drooled, wet slobbery drool, all over Mark's cock and balls. I let him know that he owned me.

He pulled out of me, picked me up and threw me over his shoulders. "Fuck this shit," he mumbled angrily. 

I watched the carpet swiftly pass under Mark's feet as he carried me into our bedroom, my slick wet pussy inches from Mark's face. Mark up-ended me facedown on the bed, positioned me so that my ass was sticking up, my legs hip-width apart. "Now we're gonna get somewhere," Mark snarled as he sunk his tongue into my pussy. His nose pushed into my crack, spreading my slickness all over the rest of my engorged skin. His tongue rammed into me, his lips wriggled against my sensitive folds. He lay the length of his tongue against the full length of my lips, let me work my pussy into his face, let me slather my cunt into his whiskers. 

"Unhh!" I gasped, "Unhh!! Unhhh!! Ohhhhh!!!!!" With that I came like a hurricane: fierce intense convulsions that started deep inside and pounded outward. Halfway through the longest, most intense orgasm I'd ever had, Mark jammed his cock into me, slapped my ass hard to let me know that it was his turn to drive the bus. My pussy pulsed and hummed, my climax intensified.

Mark knew how to get me. He knows I love it when he slaps my ass five or six times in rapid succession, then fucks me for about 30 seconds, then alternates. On this particular occasion, my ass was slapped much much more than Mark had ever done before. At one point he slapped my ass so many times in succession that I found myself gasping for air. 

Mark was really letting go. The minute I heard myself think that, I gave over to him. I let his slaps land on me, full palm, no inhibitions. I couldn't control my squirming. Facedown on the bed, my ass in the air, Mark had me. He stopped slapping me. He grabbed my hips and held me in place while his cock pumped into me. I shimmied my hips backwards onto him, squirming in every direction in order to maximize skin contact. I tried to stay in control but I lost it when he used his fingernails to lightly scratch my sensitive nipples. I ground my hips into Mark, just in time to cushion the frantic movements of his bucking pelvis, just in time to see the hairs on his arms raise as he groaned out his telltale 'unnnnnnnhhhhh..." Just in time to feel his swollen cock spasm out jets of hot cum up into my aching hole, only to spill out of me and onto Mark's big fat bouncing balls.

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

We both lay there for a very long time, spent, wet, tired, invigorated... I heard Mark reach for something. When I opened my eyes, Mark was holding out the bedroom phone to me. "I want you to call him," Mark said.



Promises Pt. 01



Introduction

This story does not challenge man's faith in God. It does not challenge the Christian faith in Jesus Christ. It does however, challenge some organisations among those that call themselves a 'Church of God'. It does challenge man's abuse of Scripture for profit, in particular it challenges that section of the Christian church, the so-called 'Prosperity Doctrine' churches, which prey on their members' greed and hopes of financial reward to be gained, not from hard toil, but from God's generosity. It does challenge the use of 'Instant Coffee Theology', its contextually inaccurate interpretation of the Scriptures used to support its teachings, ideology, liturgy, worship practises and promises.

The church service at the beginning of this story, as well as many of the references to teachings, was inspired by, but not limited to, my personal experience with several such churches. 

But most of all this story explores human emotions. It is a story of greed, greed so powerful that it leads to the taking of life. It is a story of love in many forms. And it is a story of hope.

This story will polarise opinion, and for that I make no apology. There will be those who will read this, and say that I have thought this through, and researched it fully, before formulating my arguments. Then there will be those who will read a small part of it and label it as a work of a blasphemer. If this is the case, then I wear the blasphemer tag with pride. To these people I will ask; 'What are you afraid of?' I paraphrase Paul in his letter to the Romans (12:2) when he tells us that just because things are done in a certain way, doesn't make them right, and that we should think about them and test them, so that we can know God's will.

History has shown us that the majority of wars have been fought because of religion or greed. When these two are combined they form a potent force for evil, as in this case.

I emphasise that this is a work of fiction. The characters and situations, while many of them may appear familiar, because, let's face it we've all heard them, are fictitious, and any resemblance to any person, either living or dead, is coincidental. 

CM

*****

Chapter 1: 

The proposition:

If a church makes promises that it knowingly cannot keep, and this involves the collection of a large amount of money, can it be sued for dishonouring those promises?

"Good morning, Shining Light Christian Church, bless you for calling us, how may I be of assistance?" The voice of the receptionist had an earnestness that had been inculcated into her by much teaching.

"Good morning. My name is William Vickary, would it be possible for me to arrange an appointment with your Senior Pastor, now what is his name again?" Bill asked. He had a job to do, and that was to have a face to face meeting with Pastor Mayotte, the Senior Pastor. He had noticed that Mayotte's car was not parked in its reserved park, he would have to entice him to the church.

"That would be Pastor Mayotte. What is the purpose of your visit?"

"It is a personal matter that I am not at liberty to discuss with anyone else."

"I'm sorry but Pastor Mayotte doesn't see anyone without first knowing the reason for the visit."

"I really don't care much about your rules here, the purpose of this appointment is a matter that cannot be discussed with anyone else." This was a deliberately aggressive and confrontational approach, in contrast with the sweetness displayed by the receptionist.

"Sir, you must appreciate that Pastor Mayotte is a very busy man, and if he had to make time for everyone who wants an appointment, he would never have time for God's work. Surely you can discuss this matter with one of the other Pastors?" She was beginning to get a little upset at the caller's insistence, her job was to screen incoming calls and, if possible redirect them to one of the other Pastors.

"I'm afraid that I just have to reiterate, this matter is for Pastor Mayotte only, and no-one else within your organization has the authority to discuss this matter. Now do I have to go over your head to a higher authority or will you arrange this appointment?"

"Please hold sir." She was replaced by a recording of the church's worship team belting its way through a series of repetitive up-tempo choruses. Several minutes later the chorus stopped abruptly and another female voice cut in.

"Good morning Mister Vickary, I am Pastor Mayotte's Personal Assistant, how may I help you?"

"And your name is?"

"Janine Elliot."

"Janine, that's a nice name and you sound like a very nice person, but I need an appointment with Pastor Mayotte and Pastor Mayotte only."

"I appreciate that sir, but church protocol is that we must screen all calls and only schedule appointments with Pastor Mayotte if the matter cannot be dealt with by another Pastor. I'm sure that you appreciate the Pastor Mayotte's time is precious to him, he is our spiritual leader and much of his time is taken up with spiritual matters, the administration of this church is handled by our Leadership team."

"Very well then, it would appear that the only way that I can get to see Pastor Mayotte is to convince your leadership team that the matter is of such importance that he, and only he, can deal with it. Let me speak with whoever I need to speak with."

"Please hold." Again the worship team flooded his senses with upbeat music.

"Mister Vickary, my name is Pastor Fenton, how may I be of assistance?"

"Pastor Fenton," the voice had an exasperated tone, "You can be of assistance by getting off your backside and arranging the appointment I require with Pastor Mayotte."

"I'm sorry sir, but our church policy is that there is a chain of command and no-one but no-one can get an appointment with Pastor Mayotte without first going through the formal lines of communication."

"Tell me Pastor Fenton, if I was to tell you that the reason for my wanting to speak face to face with Pastor Mayotte has extremely important financial ramifications for your church, and that I can only discuss it with him personally, would I then be able to see him?" He could almost hear the cash register spring into life.

"In that case I will see what I can do. Leave it with me and I'll speak to Pastor Mayotte and get back to you. May I have a number on which I can contact you?"

"Surely, I will be out of my office for most of the day so I'll leave you my mobile number, do you have a pen and paper handy?" When the affirmative answer was given he recited the number, confirmed it correct, and hung up. Now all that he had to do was to wait. He knew what would happen next, a call would be made to the Pastor's home number and the Pastor would then drive to the church office to discuss the call with his Personal Assistant, and his Associate Pastor, before making a decision on whether to take the appointment.

The Senior Pastor's BMW (new 7 Series) pulled into his reserved parking space. Bill got out of his vehicle parked between the parking space and the staff entrance to the church complex, in his hand was an envelope. "Pastor Mayotte?"

"What do you want?" There was a smile on his face but his voice was brusque. 

"This is for you." He handed the Pastor the envelope and walked back to his vehicle. Mayotte stared at the envelope for a minute or two before opening it.

"What the hell is this?" He ran into the building. He stopped long enough at the reception desk to shout to the receptionist, "I want all Pastors and senior staff in my office immediately!" and ran toward his suite of offices.

Two Sundays ago:

It was time to begin, the last few stragglers entered the auditorium and the doors were closed. The music DVD that had provided background noise and clean cut images of clean cut singers while the audience had filed in, faded to a close. The house lights dimmed and the stage lights rose. The musicians were arranged around a stage designed to enhance the effect that everything about this church was beautiful. The lead singers were uniformly attractive, the two female leads were young and slim, one blonde, the other brunette, and the male lead was clean cut and conservatively dressed. The backing vocalists were on a raised platform at the rear of the stage, with the attractive arranged in front of the less so.

The musicians were arranged around the edges of the stage, keyboards to the left of the vocal trio, guitar and bass at the rear except for the lead guitarist who stood beside the blonde singer making minute tuning adjustments to his instrument, clearly a professional, and his every move drawing attention to his professionalism. Centre stage rear, behind a clear plastic screen sat the anomaly, the drummer. His hair was slightly longer than the other male musicians, his clothes a little more casual, a diamond glinted from his ear lobe, and he was ready for action.

The light show projection on the walls of the stage burst into life. The concert was about to begin.

The Praise and Worship Leader for the day stood behind his keyboard and moved his mike closer. "I can feel God's presence in the house today!" He shouted. The congregation burst into loud cries, the spontaneity of which was a result of years of practice. He held up his hand and a spontaneously expectant hush settled over the crowd of worshippers. "The Bible says to us; 'Come let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song!'" He counted the musicians in before hitting a dramatic chord on his keyboard, the drummer bringing both hands down at the same time as his foot hit the pedal of the big bass drum, and the entire band and choir launched into a chorus from their latest CD, one that had become a favourite with the congregation.

Two repetitions later the musicians moved seamlessly into the next chorus. After several minutes and another two repetitions, there was a guitar solo by Charles 'Chuck' Mayotte, Pastor Matthew Mayotte's second son. Joan McIvor caught a puzzled expression on her husband Frank's face. She tapped his arm and cast a questioning glance at him. Frank mouthed the words; 'I'll explain later.' The solo finished to rapturous applause from the mosh pit of the faithful youth, arranged at the right of the centre bank of seats, and who were in awe of Chuck's expertise as a guitarist. The Praise and Worship team led the congregation in a further repetition of the chorus.

A third chorus followed and continued until the obligatory forty minute set had been completed, it was then that an almost imperceptible signal brought proceedings to a halt. It was the cue for the Associate Pastor Graham Fenton to take the stage. The mood of the congregation changed. They all knew what was coming next; communion, a stalling of the feeling of well being as the communion elements were distributed by the horde of helpers. 

"At the Last Supper, Jesus took the bread and broke it." This was delivered in Pastor Fenton's uncomfortably forced style, "He said to His disciples, this is my body, eat this in remembrance of me. We take this bread, and remember that He died on the cross for us, and as we eat, we give thanks for His sacrifice, and that on the third day He rose from the dead to lead us into eternal life." He paused while the congregation ate the small bread cubes. "He then took the cup and blessed it and passed it to His disciples, telling them, 'This is my blood, shed for you, take this cup and drink in remembrance of me.' As we drink of the cup we give thanks that His blood was shed on the cross for us. We give thanks to God that He sacrificed His only Son so that we may receive the gift of eternal life." Again a pause while the small plastic cups of grape juice were consumed and the cups passed to the end of the row for collection.

"We have many new friends in our church today, I would ask them to stand so that we can all extend the hand of friendship to them." He paused while around twenty people rose to their feet. "Those nearest to them, I want you to take their hands and welcome them into our church family, while the rest of you can give them a warm welcome." Those not nearest to these new friends cheered and clapped a welcome to them. "After the meeting the new friends are invited to join our leadership team in our 'new friends' lounge for coffee."

The big screens lit up as the 'Shining News', a weekly program of amusing stories, interviews and general good news, put together by the Media Pastor, Michael Simon, that took the congregation through five minutes of 'Gee aren't we awesome, aren't we in touch', propaganda.

The attendants moved around the auditorium with the collection buckets ready to pass them from row to row.

"The Bible tells us that when Abraham returned victorious from war he gave a tenth of the spoils of war to his king, Melchizedek, telling him that he was keeping nothing that didn't belong to him. Now Melchizedek was a Priest King and, in doing this, Abraham was giving a tenth of what he had taken from battle to God. He didn't have to do this, but he has set an example to us that we should willingly give a tenth of our finances to God. In the Book of Malachi, God tells us that if we bring our whole tithe into the storehouse, 'test Me on this said the Lord God Almighty, and see if I will not open the floodgates and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it!' If you give diligently of your full tithe, God will reward you, He will increase your finances seven-fold, a hundred-fold. This is His promise to you."

The buckets had completed their circuit of the congregation and the Stewards began the procession to the counting room, escorted by a team of black clad security guards. There was a lot of money involved, usually something like $50,000 plus. 

His duty done, Pastor Fenton nodded to the Praise and Worship leader and left the stage. Another chorus burst forth until Pastor Mayotte leaned to his wife Cynthia, and brushed her cheek with his lips. He then rose during the second repetition, took the stage and launched into his impassioned message.

"My friends, my message for today was meant to be a continuation of my series on prophecy, but during the week I was humbled when the powerful presence of God came to me and instructed me to bring to you a different message. I didn't have time to write down everything that I have to say today, so I'm just going to rely on God to inspire me."

From the front row of the audience came cries of 'Right on Brother', Halleluiah, 'Praise God' and other carefully rehearsed ad lib type supportive phrases. Under normal circumstances these would have hardly been heard by the congregation, but strategically placed microphones fed the cries through amplifiers and into the stage speakers.

"When I first came to the Lord many years ago, I was unsure what role He had for me. I was young and newly married and had a good job with a good future in the retail industry, but God encouraged me to give up that career and enter, willingly I might add, into His service." 

"While times were tough at first, I never regretted that decision, and by faith I was chosen to birth this church. Again it was tough going at first, I had a family to consider and let me tell you that there were times when I was close to giving it all up, to place my family first, but in those times God would come to me and say to me, 'Have faith, you good and faithful servant, you have been chosen for great things.'" The auditorium erupted in supportive shouts.

"I had faith and things got better. I gathered around me a team of awesome men and women of God, and together we have built this church into the magnificent building that you see around you today, a church whose influence has reached out to the four corners of the world. We have affiliate churches in England and America who call on me to talk to them. I have only to ask, and awesome men of God come to us to share their experiences and their testimonies. None of this would have been possible if it wasn't for God's plan for us and my faith, and that of all of you, in Him."

"And now my friends, it is time for all of us to move on to a new level of service to God. We are going to literally move up to the next level of service to Him." A buzz of excitement spread over the audience. "You are all aware that the upper level of this building has been under-utilized, it has only been used effectively when we have had special functions, special services, but we are rapidly outgrowing the area that we have available for us on this level."

"The decision has been made that we should move up to the next level sooner rather than leaving it until we are forced by circumstance to move. So over the next month we will be taking up 'Miracle Offerings' so that we can begin the transition as soon as possible." 

"If you think that the Praise and Worship of this church can't get any better, be prepared for an awesome experience, it will rock!" Loud shouts emerged from the youth section of the congregation. "Our music team led by Pastor Wayne and my son Chuck are busy writing new material for our next CD!" Loud cheers erupted from the faithful youth. "This CD will be recorded in our new church, on our new sound equipment! We will be recording it as well on DVD so that you can watch it as well as enjoy it!" 

"In keeping with our 'Spirit of Excellence' we have gathered around us the very best sound and lighting engineers, who have volunteered their time and expertise, to set up a truly awesome system that will blow your minds! We have also negotiated with suppliers who have agreed to either donate the equipment that we need, or supply it at cost! We have tradesmen who will donate their time and expertise to carry out any necessary structural changes!" 

"Our Finance Team have advised that, as this process fits the definition of a 'Building Fund' any monies that you give are tax deductable, all that we ask is that you place the money in the special envelopes that we have had printed for the occasion and, if you require a tax receipt, just write your name and address on the envelope and we will post your receipt to you. If you are paying by credit card, include your card details on the envelope along with your address, and we will process the transaction as per your request."

"The area that we are now using will be transformed into the most amazing Children's Church that you have ever seen. There will be activity centres for all ages along with a mini-cinema where we can show Christian films. This cinema will also be used during the week as a part of our Bible School, and because of this, we have applied for development funding from the government to help us with the costs involved."

"For those of you who are interested, we have models of the developments set up in the foyer."

"Another development under consideration is, in addition to the coffee franchise that was so kindly donated and is set up in the foyer, a café where you can bring your friends during the week as well as on Sundays, sit down with them, have a cup of excellent coffee and light refreshments, and just chat. It will be a social space, but one over which God will look for the opportunity to tap into any revealed resources, so if you have any friends with skills that this church can utilize, by all means invite them to the café and God will do the rest."

"As well as your financial gifts we would also call on you to join us in prayer for the success of these projects."

Mayotte paused and raised his arms over his head;

"Patachorinawannamarewidnertomiqueftupresniofrimdextilbusrofhilmesizacovild, epotrufnisfedjicfgirunwiaholxirduvkistromilavefbismopsolixfumchostrilnistrulpmus, chilnufrombezuvpatahayemlaguwintpolitsonemistuardefintasquantifastuscaluntjon, gularesgoflintaxoklamundetbignastiumduntolcedminustarwistacureglobimestudefroi, gudestotristoplamgridlosethhigmostifvurthoslungedivomursydlomestinfregunlovtjis, drikgjusmpitklestraniuchfravilogijabuyhesdikplistewuvhjbzujfrucrudjesaklumwutzok, vichujksaxlosmikgastwoklimasvuhsk."




Promises Pt. 01



The auditorium cleared at the end of the service. Mayotte stood at the main door shaking hands as the congregation filed out and acknowledging the praise of those who offered it. When the crowds had cleared he headed for the new friends lounge to greet the new arrivals at his church.

With practised ease he worked the room, moving from person to person, greeting them and listening tentatively to them as they told him of their spiritual walk, and how they had reached this point. He handed each of them a 'welcome pack', a plastic bag containing a brochure on how awesome the church was, the aims of the church and a CD copy of the music team's songs. Not the latest CD, it was still selling well, but the previous one, copies of which remained on the shelves.

The welcome packs were handed to him by Janine, his Personal Assistant, his wife Cynthia was also working the room with Pastor Fenton, talking to those who had come for the second and third week of the three allowed them.

Cynthia looked at Matthew and Janine and remembered that there was a time when it would be she that stood beside him and handed out the welcome packs. She understood that appearances were everything in this world, and that she no longer had the looks that spoke of perfection, while Janine did. She was sure that they were lovers, and that didn't bother her. Their marriage had begun with so much promise, he had a good job in retail where his sales skills had the potential of promotion to managerial status, but he had 'found God' and had given all of that up.

At first he worked as a Pastor in a large church, he was paid a good salary, but saw that there was much more to be gained by having his own church. He had taken over the premises of a church that had grown too big for its current building and moved closer to the city into larger premises. It was hard at first, but he slowly built it up, and Cynthia was happy to stand beside him at church and support him at home, looking after their two sons, Matthew Junior and Charles.

His church too, had grown too large for that site and a new one was sought. A large complex was found that, with some modifications, would suit the church's purpose, so it was initially leased until, when the lease expired, Mayotte took up the option to buy it. It took some time before finance could be arranged to purchase it, but once that happened they were on their way to bigger and better things. This church was indeed, 'blessed by God'.

Because Matthew had been so driven to succeed, he had not been the close, loving father that the boys needed, in particular Matt. Matt had begun to experience some unexplained illnesses, tests had proven inconclusive, but still he was sick. Cynthia noticed that he seemed to be a little improved when Matthew spent time with him, and had formed the opinion that the illnesses were more attention seeking than real. She couldn't blame him for that, and decided to say nothing,

"A penny for them." She turned to face Graham Fenton. "Actually don't bother, I know what you're thinking, you should be there, and not that whore."

"Please Graham, don't say that. I don't care what she has been, she's a very nice girl, and she does her job very well. In fact I believe that she does it better than I was ever able to."

"I have no problems calling her that, after all that's exactly what she was when Matthew discovered her."

"She may have been then, but she has reformed."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

"Please don't, even if she and Matthew are lovers, I will always stand by him"

"You are a beautiful woman, he doesn't deserve you."

"I think that you should stop talking about now, don't you, before you say something that you might have to take back." 

Cynthia spoke to a few of the women catering volunteers, congratulating them on the cakes that they had prepared, and reminding them that the Women's group would be meeting as usual on Wednesday morning.

She moved over to Mayotte and whispered that it was time for them to be getting home. Matthew said his good-byes to Janine, and followed her out of the new friends lounge, and the building.

Those outside the new friends lounge were divided into three groups, those seated at the franchised café drinking 'proper' coffee and availing themselves of the varied cakes on offer, those standing around drinking tea and coffee from a large urn and munching on supermarket biscuits, and the third group, those who were attracted to the merchandise stands by the large array of carefully chosen publications, DVD's and music CD's.

It could have been any one of hundreds of Pentecostal churches, but it wasn't. It could have been any one of hundreds of Assemblies of God churches, but it wasn't. It was the Shining Light Christian Church; an AOG affiliated Pentecostal church in Adelaide, half a world away from the heartland of the Evangelical Christian. Its similarities to other AOG affiliated Pentecostal churches were in its glitz, and the promotion of its wealth and power, its 'blessed by God' facade, so necessary to attract new 'converts' to the church. 

The Shining Light Christian Church boasted three thousand plus members, but on any Sunday only around five or six hundred attended each of its two meetings. This discrepancy is due mainly to the fact that, once on its Database, always on its Database. Like similar churches there was a floating population of the devout, all looking for the 'right' church, the one that fitted their ideology at all times, never willing to accept any teaching with which they didn't agree, a reflection of the Pentecostal ethos, all about self.

It could have been a great day, but it wasn't. The sun was shining and a gentle breeze kept the temperature at a pleasant level, and that was the great part. They could have been any couple, but they weren't. They could have been like many couples before them, leaving the church for the last time, disillusioned by the message, delivered with such panache by the trained to deliver with panache Pastor, full of spin but lacking substance, full of promise but delivering little, doing little to prop up the wafer thin theology, but they weren't. They had stayed at this church instead of seeking greener pastures.

Frank and Joan McIvor walked from the church with mixed feelings. What had promised to be a great church service wasn't. The continuation of Mayotte's teaching on prophecy didn't happen, and Frank was disappointed that it was relegated by another plea for money. It was an anti-climactic failure in their eyes. The great part about that failure was that it propelled them ever closer to the stand that they were preparing to make. 

"That's the last straw, it was a total waste of time, all we got was a forty-five minute diatribe about how great the church is and what a wonderful person Mayotte was, to have dragged himself from humble beginnings and reach his current exalted position of power and wealth. I know that we've heard that before, but I was almost expecting him to tell us that he used to be a carpenter. And then we got the regular refrain about how they need more money, this time to move on to the next level. The message being, that if we devoted ourselves to God's work, as he has, and tithed diligently, as he has, we too could achieve his greatness. Where was the Spirit of God? Did you notice that when he spoke of moving to the next level of the work of God it was all about the physical church and not the spiritual church, or its non-existent social welfare agenda? To him the building is the church."

"I feel the same way. This church seems to be losing its way in its quest for power. What was it that bothered you during the Praise and Worship?"

"You aren't going to believe this, talk about adding insult to injury. Young Chuck was pick synching. They must think that we are totally under their spell, or idiots, or both, for us not to notice what was going on up there this morning."

"What do you mean 'pick synching'?"

"He wasn't playing the guitar solo during the second chorus. His amp must have been turned off, because the music was coming from another guitar. I noticed that while he was supposed to be playing, another guitarist at the rear of the stage was also playing. And that caused me to look closely at Chuck, his fingering was out, and his picking, while close, wasn't in time to the music, and that's the reason that I got to the head of the queue and bought the DVD. I'm going to get an expert to have a close look at it to check whether I'm right or not. If I am, it is another reason why we have to do something. If they have to rely on deception with the music, how much more of what they do is reliant on deception?"

"Just changing the subject for a minute, has anyone approached you about the modifications to the building?"

"Yes, and I told him that I wouldn't commit myself until I had seen architect's plans and engineer's spec's so that I'm satisfied that any modifications are safe, I don't think that compliance is a consideration just as long as it looks good and the lighting and sound systems work. It is a vision with no plans."

*

The Land Rover Discovery was much the same as any other vehicle in the car park except for one important point. In the luggage compartment, under the luggage blind, was a laptop computer attached to a radio scanner, the signals from the radio mikes used in the church having been down-loaded onto the computer's hard drive. Frank disconnected the scanner and powered down the computer, the recording would later be burnt onto a compact disc and filed away.

He had bought a DVD of the meeting from the merchandise stand in the foyer, the first copies already available minutes after the service ended, but these only carried the Praise and Worship and the message. The reason for the private recording was that Frank wanted a record of the whole service, because much of what he needed was said at different times, particularly when the faithful were being urged to tithe.

They drove home in silence and while Joan prepared a light lunch, Frank sat in his office busying himself with what had become a weekly task. Once finished, he added the CD to an ever growing stack. It was close to time to put his plan into action.

His was a sense of purpose, of doing something positive about what he saw as a dangerous situation. He was putting in place a plan that he believed would save many people from the mercenary clutches of churches such as the one that they had recently left. Instead of just walking away from the church as so many people had done before, they had spent the past twelve months involved in evidence gathering. Not converting the disillusionment into positive action was, to Frank and Joan, a cop out, a washing of hands that would allow the practice to continue unabated, and unchallenged.

Frank was used to being meticulous in all that he did. A carpenter by trade, he had developed his business into a highly respected building company around his abilities in forward planning, and attention to details. His house reflected the same planning and attention to detail. Having been brought up in a small country town, he was aware of the environmental advantages of the homes in his town, thick stone walls to keep the houses at an even temperature no matter the season, verandas all around to keep the sun and weather off the walls, the house he had built for his family was solid and comfortable, just as his life now was.

They followed their Sunday post-church ritual of lunch followed by a visit to their daughter, son and two grandchildren which included time spent in the nearby park tossing a ball to their daughter's energetic dog. Dinner, and a chat with the family followed before they drove home and crawled into bed.

The following morning Joan walked bleary eyed into the kitchen to find Frank sipping what was probably his third or fourth cup of coffee and contemplating a large writing pad on which there were several pages of scribble. "How long have you been sitting here?"

"I woke about two this morning and couldn't get back to sleep. There were all of these ideas rattling around in my head and I came to the conclusion that they wouldn't leave me alone, so I got out of bed and came here to put those thoughts down on paper. The more that I wrote, the more determined I was to do something about it."

"Just what do you have in mind?"

"The first thing is to get some legal advice as to whether the course of action I have in mind has any chance of success. If it does then I guess I need to think about whether I'm prepared to put both of us through all of this."

"I know that you've been recording those services for the last twelve months, and I know that you want to confront the leadership with your concerns, but what course of action have you decided on?"

"I have decided that I need a broader forum that a face to face meeting with the leadership, they would just refuse to listen and tell me, us, to leave so that we don't pollute other people in the church. If there's any chance of success then I'll sue them for the increase in finances that they have promised."

"I agree with you. If it helps you to decide, just remember that I'll be with you, one hundred percent."

"I had hoped that would be the case, although I didn't think it right to ask you for that depth of commitment, having said that, I couldn't be more pleased to have your backing."

At around 11:00 the same morning Frank was down to number four on his list of solicitors when he came to the offices of Michael Henderson & Associates, Solicitors. He had by-passed his normal solicitor because he was also a member of the church. He entered and approached the reception desk. The obligatory decorative blonde receptionist looked up from her finger nails and spoke in what was a contrived professional voice, "Good morning Sir, how may I be of assistance?"

"I would like to make an appointment with Mister Henderson, as soon as possible, if that's not asking too much."

She picked up the telephone and pushed the intercom button. "Yes Chantelle?"

"I have a Mister," she held her hand over the mouthpiece and asked Frank his name, "McIvor, who is looking for an appointment at your earliest convenience."

"I have a cancellation in fifteen minutes if he can wait that long."

Chantelle glanced at Frank who nodded his agreement, "That would be fine." She put the receiver down and indicated several chairs around a round glass coffee table. "Take a seat over there. Can I get you something, coffee, tea?"

"No, I'm fine thank you." The three previous solicitors' receptionists had provided him with coffee and he was fast reaching a caffeine level that would sustain him for much longer than he wanted, or needed.

Frank sat down in the waiting area and picked up a magazine from the chair next to him. He was surprised to find that it was a relatively recent edition of a yachting magazine and not, as he had come to expect from his rare visits to doctor's waiting rooms, very old gossip magazines.

He had just become interested in an article on sailing on the Great Barrier Reef, when the phone on the reception desk rang once. "Mister McIvor, would you step this way." She stood and he followed her down the corridor to a rear office. If he had been that way inclined, her short, tight skirt and long legs would have tempted him. Looking, he told himself, was a married man's privilege, it was when you touched you got into trouble. He didn't touch. She opened the door and ushered him inside.

A smartly dressed man came around the desk to greet him. "Mister McIvor, how can I help you?" He indicated a chair for Frank.

Michael Henderson was just about everything that Frank was not. Where Frank was of medium height, Michael was not, standing just under six feet tall he was of slim build while Frank had a more robust physique in keeping with his occupation. Frank's face was a deep brown colour, which owed as much to his exposure to the sunlight, as to his ancestry, while Michael's pale complexion was the result of most of his time spent indoors, either in his office or in court.

"Before I get too involved in my query I need to know; what are your religious views?" Frank asked as they shook hands. Here the contrast between them continued. Frank's hand was rough and calloused from a life 'on the tools' while Michael's had the softness of skin of a pen pusher. The handshake nonetheless was firm.

"I'm what I describe as a 'non-denominational Christian', in that I have a good idea of what is required of Christians, and I try to follow that, but I have no allegiance to a particular denomination or church as such."

"Good. How would you feel about taking on a case that involves a church deceived its followers?"

"Sounds interesting, tell me more."

"Well, if a church makes promises that it knowingly cannot keep, and that involve the collection of a large amount of money, can it be sued for dishonouring those promises?"

"That depends. If the promise was made on by God then you won't stand a chance. If, however, we can prove that the promise that they made was not one that they were in a position to make on behalf of God, then we are in with a chance. What was the promise and can they claim that it was made on behalf of God?'

"The promise that they made was that if I was to give them a tithe diligently, my finances would increase seven-fold. I believed them for years because of their insinuation that this promise was based on passages of Scripture, but some time ago I began to doubt the veracity of that promise, so I started checking up on its Scriptural validity. It doesn't exist."

"So what you are saying is that they lied to you, and everyone else, by telling you and them that the promise was scripturally based when it wasn't?'

"Yes and no. While the passages they cite are in the Bible, the context of those passages has nothing whatever to do with the application by the church."

"We are talking about a Pentecostal church, aren't we?"

"Yes."

Michael sat back in his chair and stared in silence at the ceiling for several minutes. He sat forward. "You don't know how long I've waited for an opportunity like this, I'll do it!"

"Good." Frank was at first taken aback by his enthusiasm, and then was relieved, he already had a good feeling about Michael.

"What sort of money are we talking about here?"

"My contribution to the church funds over the last ten years is in the vicinity of fifty-two thousand dollars."

Michael whistled, "How many people go to that church?"

"There is something of a floating population but a conservative estimate is around five hundred every week."

"So if each of those people gave the same amount as you their income from tithes would be in the vicinity of two and a half million dollars annually."

"Yes, and the way that I look at it now is that if they were to honour their promise and increase my finances seven-fold they owe me three hundred and sixty four thousand dollars and, going on the tithe figures that they have published, they have outstanding un-honoured promises over the last ten years totalling one hundred and eighty million dollars."

Michael whistled again. "I would hazard a guess that their collective anal sphincters will let go with a vengeance when we hit them with this. I assume that you just multiplied your contribution by seven?"

"Yes, what are you getting at?"

"What if we increased your contribution exponentially?" He took a calculator from his drawer and keyed in some figures, a whistle escaped from his pursed lips. "If we were to multiply your contribution by the power of seven, they owe you something in the vicinity of forty two thousand, two hundred and twenty four million, two hundred and thirty six thousand dollars, give or take the odd dollar. If we were to hit them with that they would be forced to sit up and take notice, it's what is known in the trade as an 'Ambit Claim', preposterous, confrontational, and designed to get both parties in court."




Promises Pt. 01



"What do you think? What are our chances of getting any money from them?"

"When the fertilizer hits the rotary ventilator they will probably fight it tooth and nail, and they will probably fight dirty. When that fails they will probably sue for bankruptcy and you and everyone else will probably get little if any money. If we take them on we will need to get ourselves listed as creditors so that we have first claim on their money. The Tax Office will probably take an interest in the church, especially if, to strengthen our case, we can prove that they are working outside the definition of a Christian Church or Christian charity as defined under the Taxation Laws. This could lead to the end of the Pentecostal church, at least in Australia. Come to think of it, I remember that there have been a couple of cases in the US where people have got their money back because the promises the church made hadn't happened."

"The world will be a better place for it."

"You have a problem with them, don't you?"

"Yes you could say that. They preach an ideology that is supposed to be Christian based, but if you were to look closely at a lot of what they preach you will find a message of hatred, xenophobia, self aggrandizing egotism, egoism and greed, not at all like that of their Spiritual Leader, Jesus Christ, in fact the very opposite of what he taught."

"Can we get evidence of any of this?"

"Of course. They are so full of themselves that they record each service and you can buy CD's and DVD's from their media unit. They start cranking them out the minute the service is finished so that the people can buy them hot off the press. I also have another source of information, you see I have been secretly recording their full services for the last twelve months."

"Can we get hold of any in which they make the promise about the seven-fold increase in finances?"

"Yes, in fact I have several examples at home."

Michael took one of those yellow legal pads from his top drawer and began writing notes on it. "This is what I want you to bring to our next meeting. In the mean time I think I might get involved in a little light reading. Do they use any particular version of the Bible?"

"Usually the New King James or the NIV and sometimes they will use the Amplified Bible. They chop and change depending on the message."

"What would help our cause is if we can lay our hands on evidence that their ideology is in some way different from that of Jesus."

"Funny you should say that, this is the area that got me thinking about their teaching in the first place. Apart from their fundamental 'Inerrant Word of God' stance, the main features of their worship practices are based, not on obedience to the literal Bible as they claim, but on some rather dodgy interpretation of Scriptures. I have here," Frank took a folder of papers from his attaché case and handed them over, "a list of the main practices, the Scripture they use to support them and contradictory Scriptures."

"Good, to grab their attention we'll go straight to the Supreme Court with this, and we'll hit them where it hurts most, in the hip pocket, then we'll take them on in the area that they think that their strength lies, the Bible. Leave it with me. If I need any clarification, can I call you?"

"Of course, my mobile number is on that paper, if I can't take the call, just leave a message on my message bank and I'll get back to you."

"I guess that your next question is; 'how much is this going to cost?' My fee will be nothing, the only expense you will have is for the necessary subpoenas and other court costs and I'll bill you for those after we win. I may decide at that time to submit an account for fees to the court, but the money will be given, in a touch of irony, to those people that the church, if it was doing God's work as it claims, is supposed to be helping."

"So you think that we'll win?"

Michael stood up and extended his hand to Frank. "Let's put it this way; I'm confident of success. Make an appointment with Chantelle in reception for about a week from now. I have a good feeling about this case, it's something that I could really get my teeth into. Good luck."

As Frank left, Michael was looking at the notes he had left, there was the beginnings of a smile on his face, and he was going to enjoy the task ahead.

"Well, how did you get on?" Joan had heard Frank pull into the driveway.

"I spoke to a Michael Henderson who seems to think I have a good chance of success. I have an appointment with him next week when we'll discuss it in greater detail, in the mean time we both have work to do."

Chapter 2: 

The Case:

It is our contention that, as there is absolutely no scriptural evidence to support the church's claim that the promise of financial increase in response to tithing, was made by God, it is therefore the church's responsibility to honour it.

Within minutes of Mayotte entering his office several men had scurried in and were sitting, or standing dependent on their status, in front of the large polished mahogany desk behind which sat a nervous and agitated Mayotte.

"I have just been served with a summons to appear in court. This church is being sued for forty two thousand, two hundred and twenty four million, two hundred and thirty six thousand dollars!"

Almost as one, "What?" exploded from the gathered officials. "What is the basis of the claim?" Asked the treasurer, the thought of imminent financial ruin already uppermost in his mind.

"I haven't got that far yet, let me see, ah, here it is, we are being sued by one of our folowers because we have failed to deliver on our promise to increase his finances of one of our followers seven-fold."

"Well then we have nothing to worry about," the treasurer said, "all we have to do is to claim that the promise came from God and it's His responsibility."

"That is all well and good but I think we should get a professional legal opinion. Do we have a Lawyer in the congregation?"

As Janine left the room to consult the church Database, her departure was followed by several pairs of eyes. She was tall, she was slim, she was blond, and her walk suggested a former career as a model. She was well, albeit conservatively, dressed in a tailored dark blue suit with a glaringly white blouse buttoned to the base of her neck. Although they could no longer see her front as she walked from the room the men present knew from memory that the front of her blouse and jacket were thrust forward by her breasts. 

Once the lustful thoughts were suppressed, the assembled group was deep in personal thought during the several minutes that she was absent. When she returned each of their expressions simultaneously changed from confusion to questioning. She handed a note to Mayotte who picked up the telephone and punched the number viciously on the keypad. "Good morning this is Pastor Mayotte from the Shining Light Christian Church I wish to speak with Mister Peter Latham immediately."

An agitated voice came from the other end of the line. "I don't care where he is, or what he is doing, this is important or else I wouldn't have bothered him, now put him on!"

A minute later a male voice emerged from the phone. "Latham here. This had better be life threatening to drag me out of a very important meeting."

"If being sued for an obscene amount of money isn't life threatening then I don't know what is!"

"Calm down and explain to me what this is all about, what numbers are we talking about and who is suing you?"

"Forty two thousand, two hundred and twenty four million, two hundred and thirty six thousand dollars, is that large enough? Apparently the suit is being brought on behalf of a Francis McIvor, one of our congregation."

"What is his argument?"

"He is claiming that we have failed to honour our promise of a seven fold increase in his finances."

"That's alright then, you can claim it was the promise of God, not you, and that you have no case to answer."

"You're sure about that?"

"Yes, unless you have any reason to doubt the veracity of that?"

"No, why should we?"

"Alright, if you could bring the summons around to my office as soon as possible I'll look into it for you."

Mayotte looked more relieved, "I tell you that this had me going there." The group laughed in self conscious sympathy.

Two weeks later Michael Henderson and Janis Johansson QC were in the Supreme Court before Judge Foley for the preliminary hearing of the case. Johansson was a Barrister who had been briefed by Latham because he was of the opinion that he had more experience in these matters, and to start off with the big guns might just scare the opposition.

"Your Honour, we the Plaintiffs in this matter before you are suing the Shining Light Christian Church for the sum of forty two billion, eight hundred and twenty four million, two hundred and thirty six thousand dollars, this being the amount that the Defendants, Pastor Mayotte, and others, of the Shining Light Christian Church, promised my client would be given to him as a result of his, and these are their words, diligent tithing. That is all that we are asking for, that they repay the debt to which they had committed themselves." 

The opposition wasn't scared. "Explain to me Mister Henderson, how did you come by that figure?" 

"We had three choices when calculating the amount owed, the first is based simply on the amount given multiplied by seven. The second is an exponential calculation of the amount that my client has donated over the last ten years to the Shining Light Christian Church on the belief that they would honour their promise of a seven-fold increase on his tithing, which was the amount given multiplied to the power of seven, this comes to forty two billion, eight hundred and twenty four million, two hundred and thirty six thousand dollars. The third calculation was the amount that would be earned over that same period, starting at $400 and adding $400 each month at an interest rate of seven hundred percent per annum compounded monthly, suffice it to say that this amount would be right off the Richter Scale. So huge in fact that my calculator was unable to cope with it. Suffice it also to say that after ten years the figure was some way north of more money than there is in this world. I have the amount written down because there was no way that I could remember it, here it is, hang on to your hats. Four eight seven nine comma three six four, comma, five seven two, comma, two eight four, comma, three five zero, comma, zero zero zero, comma, zero zero zero, comma, zero zero zero, comma, zero zero zero, comma, and zero cents. We were sure that the second and third methods would be more likely to attract their attention, but we would be quite happy to accept the lesser amount."

"Which is?"

Henderson glanced at his notes. "We have calculated the amount to be three hundred and forty thousand dollars plus interest plus costs, of course. If however the church chooses to contest this matter then we will continue with our suit for a higher amount."

"Mister Johansson?"

"Your Honour, firstly we raise the issue of jurisdiction. If the Plaintiff has, as he insinuates, been defrauded by the church, surely that is a criminal matter to be dealt with by the appropriate authorities. Secondly, we contend that the promise was made by God and not by the church, therefore the church has no case to answer."

"Mister Henderson?"

"Your Honour, in regard to the jurisdictional issue raised by the honourable counsel for the defendant, we are seeking the repayment of a debt, that is a civil matter, and our case centres on who is responsible for that debt, God or the Shining Light Christian Church. If we, in establishing ownership of that debt, raise the issue of a criminal charge of fraud, then we will take our evidence to the Director for Public Prosecutions for its consideration. As for the other matter raised, it is our contention that there is absolutely no contextually accurate scriptural evidence to support the church's claim that the promise of financial increase as a result of tithing was made by God. It is therefore the church's responsibility to honour it. In fact we will also prove scripturally that, as a Christian, and contrary to the teachings of this church, my client is under no obligation to tithe at all." There was a loud murmur from the public gallery.

"And you can prove this?"

"Yes Your Honour. One further thing your Honour, While I have every confidence in gaining a fair and impartial hearing from the Full Bench of this Court, I believe that the best interests of everyone will be served if it is a trial by jury, that way the judgment decision is shared and there will be fewer avenues for appeal open to the losing party."

"Very well, you are aware of course that this is a dangerous decision that could backfire on you and your client." 

"We are very much aware of that, but we will stand by our decision."

Judge Foley addressed both lawyers. "In this matter before this court, I rule that as a prima facia case against the church has been established, the church has a case to answer and I will set the date for the trial for three weeks." His gavel dismissed the parties.

"Well?" Mayotte answered his phone.

"Unfortunately it has to go to trial. We have three weeks to come up with our strategy."

They were a busy three weeks indeed for both parties. Frank and Michael spent many hours both together and alone listening to audio tapes, CD's and DVD's of as many of the teachings as they could lay their hands on, noting all Scripture references used and cross checking them with their Bibles. They were helped in this by Frank's attention to detail, the CD's he had recorded had, along with the date and the preacher's name, a précis of the message written on the CD label. If they found that the context in which the Scripture was used in the teaching did not match the context of that particular passage, it was duly noted. If a teaching was cited as being Scriptural and it didn't exist, it was also noted. Where the number of Scripture passages was used as a statistic to justify a teaching, each was checked, using a concordance, and if they did not in fact support the teaching, they were noted. At the end of three weeks a very thick file had been put together, and a strategy put in place.

A part of this strategy was the production of a document on Henderson's Notebook computer. This document was in colour and the colours served to identify the status of the cited Scripture. For ease of reference, the cited Scripture was printed in black, a Scripture that agreed with the cited Scripture was coloured green, a cited Scripture that was taken out of context was coloured yellow, and a Scripture that directly contradicted the cited Scripture was coloured red, while a Scripture that differed chronologically from that cited was coloured blue. There was a lot of red and yellow print. This document was sent to a printer and several bound copies were made.

At the Shining Light Christian Church a strategy was emerging. It had become obvious that counsel for the plaintiff just might have cause to seek compensation, and doubts had begun to emerge. Mayotte had mentioned briefly to the congregation the problem that faced the church without going in to details, merely stating that they were being sued, that they were completely innocent of any wrong doing, that there was nothing to be concerned about, and that church members were to have no further dealings with Frank or Joan McIvor. In the mean time Johansson had been going through legal precedents to see if this type of case had been tried in the past, without luck.

The one positive in all of this was that this would be a jury trial, and if they could get enough sympathetic jurors on the panel they stood a better chance of success, at the very worst a hung jury.

"What if they manage to stack the jury with a whole bunch of Pentecostal sympathizers?" Frank was a little concerned.

"They can have twelve sympathizers on the panel for all that I care. By the time that I'm finished with Mayotte they will be all on our side."

What Henderson had also been able to do was to employ one of his regular associates to record the meetings without being observed. He was able to do this because, even though Frank and Joan were no longer welcome at the church, and couldn't be seen near it without raising suspicions, a non-descript van parked a hundred meters away in a side street would not attract attention and, using Frank's equipment as well as his own he was still able to scan the radio frequencies until he picked up the Wi-Fi microphones used for the meeting and record it. Armed with this evidence Henderson was even more confident of success.

Chapter 3: Inside the Court

Trial Day 1:

How can you say you have the law when the lying pens of the Scribes have treated them falsely?' Jeremiah 8:8

The courtroom was packed for the first session. The majority of those people present in the public gallery were members of the Shining Light Christian Church. They sat chatting to each other and smiling confidently, after all wasn't God on their side? Worrying for Johansson was the media contingent present, he had told Mayotte that the less publicity generated for the trial the better, but he had the impression that this had passed right over Mayotte's head, the greater the media exposure the better as far as he was concerned.

Henderson was also worried by the media presence. "I don't like this. He whispered to Frank. "If this trial moves the way that I predict it will, the media bias may affect the jury's sentiment."

Mayotte turned to the packed gallery and, holding up his hands began praying.

Patachorinmarewidnertomiqueftupresniofrimdextilbusrofhilmesizacovildepotrufnis, fedjicfgirunwiaholxirduvkistromilavefbismopsolixfumchostrilnistrulpmuschilnufrom, bezuv."

Others joined in and soon the room was filled with unintelligible mutterings.

The Judge entered the court room and the Clerk of the Court called for silence. Mayotte continued praying in tongues for several more minutes despite the banging of the Judge's gavel and the shouts of "Order!" from the bench.

"Mister Johansson if you do not get your client to stop this unholy racket this instant I will hold him in contempt!"

Johansson grabbed Mayotte by the arm and urged him to stop. Reluctant silence descended on the court room.

Judge Foley turned to the potential jurors. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your attendance here this afternoon. The process of jury selection can be a long process, so I ask you to be patient. Counsel for both parties will ask you questions to ascertain your suitability for the task ahead, but first, are there any here who would wish to be excused or who believe that, for whatever reason they will be unable to render a fair and impartial decision?" Several hands rose. Foley went through each of them in turn and excused those who had reason other than their Pentecostal beliefs to be excused. "Mister Henderson, do you wish to question these people?"

"No your honour, I am happy to allow these fine people to participate if selected."

Johansson glanced at Mayotte. What was Henderson playing at? Does he honestly believe that he can win with practicing Pentecostals in the jury? Mayotte had the same thoughts, the difference being that Mayotte felt his spirits soar, while Johansson's spirits remained rooted to the ground of concern.

With little interference from Henderson, a panel was sworn in that contained more than half of its members expressing some sympathy to the church, although not all were Pentecostals. The jury foreperson was a well dressed man, an engineer, who professed to be a follower of the Baha'i faith. Henderson was pleased with this selection but Johansson whispered his concern to Mayotte, who, confident of the support of the majority, dismissed the concern.




Promises Pt. 01



"Mister Henderson, I am ready for your opening submissions."

"May it please the court," Henderson looked at the jury panel. "Members of the jury, in front of you are paper and pens, what I would like you to do is to write your impressions of my, our, chances of success. Keep it with you and if you find yourself changing your mind, write down what it was that caused you to doubt your initial assessment." The members of the jury wrote on the pad in front of them, several wrote something along the lines of 'a snowballs chance in Hell' while other comments pointed to an open mind. The foreman wrote; 'I believe that you can succeed.' 

Henderson turned to look directly at Pastor Mayotte, "Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church have seen the need to engage the services of a Queen's Counsel, at great expense, to conduct their defence. I am flattered that they should do so. The difference between us is that counsel for the defence does not necessarily have to believe in the innocence of his client in order to represent him, because he's being paid to do a job. The plaintiff has entrusted me to represent him, and I am doing it without fee, because I believe in his cause, I believe that we can win." 

Turning again to the jury he paused for several seconds and when he spoke it was in a quiet, measured voice. "Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church are guilty of deception on three counts." The statement took several seconds to penetrate into the minds of those in the court. Enlightenment brought gasps from the audience. The attention of the jurors was focused on Henderson. "Firstly, Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church are guilty of scriptural deception, in that they take Scripture out of context to justify an agenda, and that agenda is to make money, a lot of money. Secondly, Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian church are guilty of spiritual deception, in that their insistence on strict literal interpretation of Scripture has led them to lose sight of the intended spirit of Scripture. This deception is harder, but not impossible to prove, and prove it we will. And finally, Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church are guilty of secular deception, in that they have used Scripture for their own venal ends, by issuing, on many, many, occasions, an oral prospectus promising a pecuniary reward for diligent tithing with a seven-fold increase in finances."

He paused to allow the message to sink in. "We, the plaintiffs in this matter, have to prove the Shining Light Christian Church guilty of the use of secular deception. That is the only matter that concerns this court. Having said that, we feel that in order to demonstrate this to you, the members of the jury and the world at large, we will have to prove the Shining Light Christian Church is also guilty of spiritual and scriptural deception. The three charges are inexorably linked together, and each is dependent on the other. We cannot prove that this is a secular deception unless we can prove that the promises made by the church were not 'God promises' as they will claim. If this were to be the case then this court would not be the appropriate jurisdiction for this trial. This is a huge undertaking given the popularity of the church in question, but this is an undertaking that we are willing to pursue, it is an undertaking that we must pursue."

"We are not contentious litigants, we are not doing this for the fun of it, we are not doing it just to stir up trouble, we are doing this because we are serious, we believe that we have to win this case, we know that we can win this case and we will win this case."

"Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church will claim that the promises that they have made in regards to the increase in finances as a result of diligent tithing, were made by God, and they will inevitably cite passages of Scripture to support that claim. We, the plaintiff, using nothing more than this book," he held up a Bible. "This Christian Bible, will prove that this is not so, that this is a false claim." The pause between each phrase was deliberate, allowing each phrase to sink in.

"Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church will claim that its teachings and worship practices are scriptural and therefore true, and that they are in strict obedience to the Bible. We, the plaintiff will prove that by taking a phrase, a word even, out of context and using it to justify its own agenda, it is in fact deceiving its congregation and acting contrary to the Bible. To do this we will use no other source than this book, this Christian Bible."

"Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church will claim that this book," again he held up the Bible, "this Christian Bible, is to be obeyed in its entirety. Using this book, this very same Christian Bible, we will prove that this is a false claim. Not only is it a false claim but this book, in the Old Testament, also tells us that the laws that the church had bound the people to obey, were not God's laws, but those of man, and the Apostle Paul tells us that the reason Jesus came to this world was to release mankind from that burden of obedience to these man made laws." Puzzled expressions passed between Mayotte and Johansson and between the members of the Shining Light Christian Church in the gallery.

"Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church will claim that this book, the Christian Bible, is the inerrant word of God and without error. We, the plaintiff, using nothing more than this book, this Christian Bible, will prove that this cannot be true, that this Bible contains many errors in fact, errors that have been revealed by mankind's improving knowledge, such as the Creation Narrative."

"We will also prove that there are many inconsistencies in this Bible, inconsistencies in chronology in the Gospel narratives among others."

"We, using nothing more than this Christian Bible, will also prove that this Bible contains many examples where a passage is contradicted by another passage."

"Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church will claim that this book, this Christian Bible, tells them that the only way that you or I can get to heaven is if we were to become a Christian, and in the case of this church, a Pentecostal Christian. We, using nothing more than this Christian Bible, will prove that this is untrue, that obedience to the rules and conditions as applied by this church are no guarantee of salvation at all. One passage in this Bible poses the question; 'Am I that close to God that I can tell him what to do?' My answer is an emphatic 'No!' But this church believes that it acts for God when it tells us that unless we are to follow its rules, not God's rules, its rules, it will tell God not to allow us into heaven." An angry buzz emerged from the gallery.

"Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church will claim that this book, this Christian Bible, tells them that Jesus is God. We, using nothing more than the Christian Bible, will prove that Jesus himself denies that claim, denies his kinship with God." The Gallery erupted with angry outbursts from the faithful, much to the amusement of the press corps and bringing Foley's gavel into action. Order was eventually restored.

"Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church will claim that this book, this Christian Bible, tells them that Christians have a special relationship with God that is not open to anyone else. We, using nothing more than this Christian Bible, will prove that Christians are not the only people to have a special relationship with God, in fact our relationship is personal and unconditional, not institutional and conditional, and it is open to all mankind, not just a few." Another wave of anger rose from the faithful, more smiles from the press corps, and more frantic use of the gavel from Judge Foley. Order was once more restored.

Henderson continued. "While all of this is interesting and part of the reason that we are here, it is this charge of secular deception that brings us here today. This is a civil matter to be heard in a civil court. We will prove that the Pastors of the Shining Light Christian Church, by established this culture of strict, and unswerving obedience to its teachings, have used that culture to deceive their congregation into giving money on the promise of financial reward. It is between my client and Pastor Mayotte and the Shining Light Christian Church, not my client and God. This court has jurisdiction in this matter, not God or the church of God. And despite what counsel for the defence will try to convince us, the proof of our claim, the proof that this church must abide by secular law, and has failed to do so, is in this very book, this Christian Bible." He held up the Bible again, then, for emphasis, he banged it down on the table.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, my client is suing the Shining Light Christian Church for the sum of forty two million, eight hundred and twenty four thousand two hundred and thirty six dollars, this being the amount that we have calculated he should have received if the promises made by the defendant and his church had been honoured. My client and his wife have been conscientious members, and still are members, at least as far as we know they still are, of the Shining Light Christian Church." 

Mayotte made a quick note and passed it to Janine, in which he asked her to remove Frank and Joan McIvor from the membership database.

"He has accepted with great faith the teachings of that church and its Pastors, because he was told on numerous occasions that he was never to question these teachings. One teaching in particular was that if he were to tithe diligently his finances would increase seven-fold."

"The burden of proof of this lies with us and we will shoulder that burden with all the strength at our disposal, we will prove our case. Integral to our case is that this is but one of the many teachings of this church that is in error, and that these teachings combined, have revealed that this church is not, as it claims to be, a church obedient to the teachings of Jesus Christ from whom it derives its Christian status. To do less than this will give this church the opportunity to tell us that the teaching on tithes is but one of many teachings and that, while they may be in error they are still in obedience to all Scripture."

"Our case is based on the fact that nowhere in the Scriptures does God make any promise of a financial reward for tithing, so it must be a promise made by the church. It is also based on the fact that, as the Apostle Paul tells us, we as Christians are not held in obedience to Old Testament Jewish Law, and the obligation to tithe is Jewish Law, according to him, and we, as Christians, start with a clean slate, and nowhere in the New Testament does it state that Christians are obliged to tithe. If there is no scriptural evidence to justify such a claim, the church is in error when it claims that it was made by God."

"This is the teaching that has led to this action before the court. The Pentecostal church, in particular the Assemblies of God, the Australian branch has by the way, changed its name to the Australian Christian Churches, to which the Shining Light Christian Church is loosely affiliated, prides itself on its belief in the inerrancy of the Christian Bible and its total adherence to it, among other things."

"Not only does the Shining Light Christian Church not adhere to the Christian Bible, it does everything that Jesus of Nazareth criticized in Matthew Chapter 23." Confident smiles disappeared from the faces of the church members in the gallery.

The jury foreman had two columns on his page, one headed 'for' and the other 'against'. His tick appeared in the 'for' column.

With the Bible still held aloft again, Henderson continued. "We will, using this book and this book alone, prove that the theology of this church is not," he paused for effect, "not, as claimed by the Shining Light Christian Church and other similar churches, the study of God as the name would suggest, but the study of how it can use God for its own venal purposes."

"We will, using this book," again he held up the Bible, "prove that the ideology of the Shining Light Christian Church, and other similar churches, is not as claimed, the altruist ideology of its claimed spiritual leader, Jesus of Nazareth, but that it is in fact one of egoism, of self serving, of self above all others. It is not inclusive as were the teachings of Jesus, but exclusive, and in complete contradiction to those teachings. In fact we will, using this book and this book alone, prove that Christianity does not have, as this church claims, an exclusive relationship with God, and exclusive access to heaven."

A shocked gasp rose from the public gallery, Mayotte looked at Johansson, a smile on his face, his confidence buoyed, how could this be proven? The jury's comments ranged from a question mark to 'good luck'.

"Using this book we will prove that, rather than using the monies donated for the purpose of doing the work of God, this, the Shining Light Christian Church, has deceptively converted those monies into its own coffers, for its own use, and that little of those monies are being used for its stated purpose. You may recall that some years ago there was a huge hue and cry because several charities were using professional fund raisers and that only a small percentage of those monies donated ever reached their intended destination, the charity concerned. This is exactly the same situation, this church is the professional fund raiser, and, after they have taken their cut, administration fees, salaries and running costs, there is little left to carry out, as they claim, the work of God."

"Importantly, we will, again using this book, prove that the Shining Light Christian Church, with its disobedience of the Company Laws of this land, is in fact disobeying the Laws of the God to whom it claims complete, and total obedience. It, this church, will claim that God's Law has precedence over man's law, but this is not the case. According to this book, this Christian Bible, obedience to God's Law includes obedience to the laws of the land." Johansson looked at Mayotte who merely shrugged his shoulders, he could think of no such Scripture.

"In fact we will challenge the right of the Shining Light Christian Church and other similar churches, to shelter under the banner of a 'Christian Church or Christian Charity' for tax purposes. This church has not only committed a deception on its followers on a mammoth scale, but it has also, in the conduct of this, nothing more than a commercial enterprise, deceived the government of this country of millions of dollars in taxation revenue, and denied its Local Council of revenue from rates and taxes, leaving the shortfall to be made up by we the taxpayers."

"So I guess you could say that this church is deceiving us twice, the first time with its 'Prosperity Doctrine' and secondly, when we have to pay more tax to make up the shortfall in taxation revenue as a result of its deceiving the government."

Shouts of indignation filled the room bringing the gavel into action once again. "If the gallery is not quiet and remain quiet it will be cleared!" Quietness descended once more. It wasn't a calm quiet, on the contrary, it was full of menace, ready to explode into violence at the next sign of provocation.

Michael smiled at the Judge and continued. "We will also show that the Pentecostal movement rose, not out of some religious zeal as it takes pain to promote, but out of a jumping on the bandwagon of the quantum shift in marketing techniques that emerged in the 1950's in the US, and which espoused the theory that, for a company to sell its product, it has to promote it as giving the customer something worthwhile to do in their spare time, something that would make them feel good about themselves."

"This was combined with the Post War economic boom which saw the population with an increased disposable income. After the hardships of the Great Depression and World War 2 the people found that, not only could they earn their money without the same sort of hard grind of previous times, but that there was more of it to go around, so they began looking for ways to spend that money in pleasurable pursuits."

"The church of the day realized that, by changing their worship practices, they could increase the visceral pleasures of going to church for their own benefit. Change it from the spectator sport of traditional liturgy to one of audience participation, so they brought in the 'gospel choir' with its bright outfits and up-beat music, and introduced such esoteric practices as the scripturally dubious 'tongues' and convinced their followers that this was indeed the way church should be done. But this is nothing more than a little 'c' christian themed entertainment, part of the show called church, and identical in every way to the very practices of the church that, in his time, Jesus criticized so very strongly."

"Along with this was introduced the 'Prosperity Doctrine', which was designed entirely to ease from their followers their new found wealth by dangling the carrot of a substantial financial growth that required no effort on the part of the giver. This doctrine has led to several cases where Evangelists have been caught out by their excesses, one such case was the PTL or Praise the Lord ministry." 

"Unfortunately for them times have changed and not everyone has the huge amounts of money to support this practice, but still the carrot has been dangled, the promises have become more outrageous, attracting a demographic desperate for money. People who you will see investing their last dollar on the poker machines, on bingo tickets, on lottery tickets, gambling on horse racing and in church, all hoping for the miraculous outpouring of wealth that will probably never come."

"This church, Pastor Mayotte's church, has not taken into account the harm that its doctrine is causing these people, they have told them time and again that it will happen, and when it doesn't happen that it is all their fault because they haven't given enough, or that they have lost faith, never that it was highly unlikely to ever happen in the first place. The chances of such an outpouring of wealth is roughly equivalent to winning the lotto pool with just one line of numbers, millions to one. The people are never told by the church that it wasn't a God promise but a church promise, and by so doing the church is misleading its followers, and has left itself open to litigation such as this." 

"Your Honour, we will prove that this church, far from being one that is diligent in its obedience to the 'inerrant Word of God' and a paragon of virtuous Christianity, is a egoistic, self obsessed, avaricious and deceitful commercial corporation that hides behind the façade of the very religion that it abuses."

"We look on this as a test case, and if we are successful, when we are successful, it will encourage others to follow us. We have not singled this church out because of its wealth, for there are other churches with equal or greater wealth. We have singled this church out for two reasons. The first is that it has distorted the Bible in order to make a large amount of money. It has committed a deception when it tells us that the promises that it makes are not theirs but God's promises. Secondly because it does not use that money it gets for the stated purpose, for the reason that the tithe was introduced, to provide for the needy people of this world. It has committed a deception on those who give it money. Not to put too fine a point on it, the whole raison d'etre of this church is founded on deception." 

"Your Honour, members of the jury, the reason that we have brought this action in this secular court, is that it is a secular matter. If a commercial entity issued a prospectus along the lines of the oral prospectus issued by the Shining Light Christian Church, the regulatory authorities would have charged it with fraud, but, because this particular commercial organization hides behind the façade of a Christian church, it has not come under scrutiny, possibly because the people most hurt by it are not from the 'Top End of Town' and can least afford to lodge a formal complaint. Jesus himself commented that those people least affected by giving, those to whom a tithe is but a drop in the ocean, and dare I say it, those to whom tax minimization is a way of life, should give more so that those to whom even a cent is a hardship, do not have to give, a stance reiterated by Paul. This is our case and the reason that we are here, thank you." As Henderson sat down there was a rumble of voices from the gallery, some indignant, some angry, and some curious.




Promises Pt. 01



"Mister Johansson, before I hear your opening remarks I feel the necessity to warn you and the gallery, that if the members of your client's cheer squad continue to disrupt these proceedings I will clear the court and continue this trial in camera. Now if I could have your opening remarks if you please."

Johansson rose to his feet and a tentative applause emerged from the gallery before it was cut short. "Your Honour, the defence submits that there is no case for the church to answer. The promises in question were made by God, and it is God that should be in court not the church of God, a church that is only doing His work on Earth." He sat down.

Judge Foley looked at him. "The plaintiff has a cause for action and whether your client or God has to answer this claim is up to this court to decide. The Plaintiffs have sued this church, not God because they contend that God never made any such promise, and this is the matter that they have brought before this Court. Unfortunately for your client, God isn't, nor does he need to be, in court to defend this action."

"God is here." Mayotte's voice carried to the bench and not much further. "God is everywhere."

Judge Foley glared at him. "As the counsel for the plaintiff has pointed out, this is a secular matter, heard in a secular court. The plaintiff claims that the Shining Light Christian Church, and Pastor Mayotte have committed deception with their teachings, in particular those involving the collection of tithes. This is the charge to be heard by this court. Counsel for the plaintiff has, in his opening remarks, indicated that, in order to prove that this matter is the responsibility of the defendants, he will find it necessary to question the church's beliefs and teachings, and their scriptural validity. As this is central to their case, I rule that it is within the power of this court to allow him to do that. Mr Henderson, you may proceed."

Henderson rose. "Thank you your honour. For my first witness I call Mister Francis McIvor to the stand." Frank took the stand and was duly sworn in, having significantly chosen the Bible instead of making an affirmation. Henderson walked toward the witness stand. "Mister McIvor, just for the record would you state your full name."

"Francis James McIvor."

"And your occupation is?"

"I am self employed as a builder."

"Doing what exactly?"

"I'm what is known as a 'spec builder', that is I buy a block of land and build a house on it and then sell it."

"Simple as that?"

"Well it's never really as simple as that, but I hire good tradesmen as sub-contractors and ensure that they do work of the highest standard. I pay them well and on time, but they are aware that, if their work is not up to my high standards, not only is the rectification at their expense but they will no longer get any work from me. I have never had any trouble on that score and I have used the same sub-contractors for the last fifteen years."

"Do you make a lot of money doing this?"

"I keep my profit margins low because I don't need to make a huge profit on each house. As long as there is enough money coming in to satisfy the needs of my family on a day to day basis and provide the occasional luxury, my wife and I are happy."

"What would happen if you didn't sell one of your houses quickly?"

"I don't know because that has never happened. I don't have to advertise, because the Real Estate agents know where my next house is, and they take prospective clients to meet the owners of previous houses. The goodwill that I have built up in this business is worth more than any advertising could possibly hope to achieve."

"So you have thought this through very carefully, you have established a business based on trust and you stick to your game plan. You are not prone to making left field decisions are you?"

"No, I try to anticipate every eventuality and have a contingency plan in place in case something unforeseen crops up. I invest a lot of thought and planning into everything that I do."

"Mister McIvor you are a Christian are you not?"

"Yes I am, and I have been for as long as I can remember. I went to Sunday School as a child and then church, religiously."

"Would you tell the court how long you have been a member of the Shining Light Christian Church?"

"For more than ten years."

"Did you just go to church or did you become involved in other ways?"

"On a number of occasions I would help out with building maintenance, I'm in the building trade, with carpentry and painting, things like that."

"Did you receive remuneration, were you paid, for the work that you did?"

"No. I put my name forward as a volunteer when I first began going to that church and I was approached by them whenever work needed to be done, but money was never mentioned. In fact I was out of pocket each time I worked for them because I had to take time away from my own business and on a number of occasions I used my own contractors when the job was urgent or specialized work needed to be done."

"Did the church pay their wages?"

"No."

"Did they ever offer to reimburse you for those wages?"

"No, never."

"So, as well as the money that you have donated in tithes to this church you also donated time away from your business when you could have been earning money, and the wages of contractors that you used for several jobs?"

"Yes."

"When and why did you decide to launch this legal action against the Shining Light Christian Church?"

"Only recently. I've had it in the back of my mind for some time. A year ago I began to have doubts about the veracity of some of the church's teachings, they didn't ring true. I began by cross checking the Scriptures that they quoted in support of their teachings and in the vast majority of them I found that they had either been deliberately misinterpreted or they had been taken out of context." 

"Instant coffee theology."

"Instant coffee theology?"

"Yes, I remembered years ago been told that if you searched hard enough in the Bible it would tell you what brand of instant coffee to drink."

"Did you find that reference?"

"Objection! I'm sure that this is all very interesting but what relevance can it have to this matter?"

"Mister Henderson?"

"Your honour, if I am allowed to proceed I can demonstrate the relevance."

"Very well. Objection over-ruled."

"Yes I did find it, after a great deal of searching. But it was during that search that I came to realize that the answer is irrelevant. The relevance of the exercise was, that some churches have developed a very profitable habit of taking a Scripture, a word of Scripture or a passage, out of the context in which it had been written, and using it to justify an agenda. You became aware of a similar situation occurring in the teachings of the Shining Light Christian Church, did you not?"

"Yes, often. It became apparent that, in many cases, what the preacher would do was, to either count the number of references in his concordance, and use that as a statistic to show that there was strong evidence in support of his teaching, or cite a small section of the Scripture that seemed, on the surface of it, to support his agenda."

"So, as a result of this you began to lose faith in the teachings of the church?"

"Yes, and it wasn't only the Shining Light Church that was guilty of this process, on a number of occasions I watched the religious shows that are on television in the early hours of the morning and those preachers did exactly the same thing, it would appear as if they have been taught to do this by the Pentecostal movement, it was obviously a reasonably common practice among the televangelists. They preached with such fervour and passion that you were swept up by the rhetoric and lost sight of the fact that, while they could quote the Scriptures chapter and verse, it became obvious that their preaching was based on the word but not the meaning."

"Did you ever challenge these teachings?"

"While it had been mentioned on a couple of occasions that I can remember, that if a person didn't agree with a teaching they would be quite happy to discuss it with them, there was however no mechanism in place to facilitate this, in fact on a greater number of occasions it was made abundantly clear that the teachings of the church should never be questioned as they were the 'Word of God'. I have often wondered why God gave us the power of reason if He then wants us to suspend that reason, which is what this church asks us to do."

"So you believed that the church discouraged intellectual discussion on Scripture and its teaching of it?"

"Most certainly. They were anti-intellectual because that was the line of least resistance, it required no intellectual effort on their part to accept, and it suspended critical thinking. Its teachings are experiential rather than theological, there is a continuous parade of anecdotal evidence of the urban myth' type, of healing miracles, of financial blessings that were, in most cases at least four degrees of separation from the witness. The result was that none of these examples could be supported by empirical evidence."

"Do you believe that you can intellectualize Scripture and still have faith in God?"

"Most certainly, in fact I believe that we should study the Scripture and question our teachers so that we may reach a better understanding of God and what he is about. If 'Bible Study' is merely a rehashing of what is accepted as 'right teaching' then it misses the point, it has no point. Paul tells us in Romans Chapter 12, verse 2; 'Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is - His good, pleasing and perfect will'. To me this tells us that we should not continue to do and believe things simply because that's what we've been taught, but that by thinking about it we will be able to gain a new insight into and, a better understanding of, God's will"

"What are the major influences on the teachings of the Shining Light Christian Church?"

"There seems to be little emphasis on the ministry of Jesus and his teachings. There is an emphasis on his miracle healings and other miracles which are used as examples of what is possible for the 'born again Christian'. One particular example that I have heard used on several occasions, by several different Pastors, was of a funeral where the deceased was restored to life by prayer. What wasn't explained was why the coffin, instead of being in body of the church in full view of the mourners, was in the church basement with a camera on it. Or why, as is usual, the lid wasn't screwed down and the person inside was able to raise the lid and emerge. For this example to have any validity it would have had to happen in the church in full view of the mourners, not removed from them. It has all the hallmarks of a set up, a con, a deception."

"They emphasize that a Christian life is one filled with financial blessings, that God wants us to have these blessings, and that all we have to do to achieve these blessings is to pray for them, and tithe. There is no mention of using our God-given talents and actually working to achieve our comfortable way of life."

"The teaching on tithes in the ministry of the Shining Light Christian Church, did it ever mention the passage, 'If you tithe diligently your finances will increase seven-fold'?"

"On a number of occasions, but although I have searched the Bible I have found no evidence of that passage."

"So you're telling the court that this passage used by the Shining Light Christian Church to encourage the practice of tithing does not exist?"

"Yes. I remember reading somewhere that Adolph Hitler once said something like; 'A lie told often enough will be believed.' the Shining Light Christian Church uses a similar philosophy."

Henderson turned and walked toward his seat. He stopped, deep in thought, he turned to face Frank, "Mister McIvor, do you know of anywhere in the Bible where Scripture is bought into question?"

Mayotte smiled to himself, what a stupid question! Why would the Bible even suggest that Scripture should be questioned?

"Well yes. In the book of Jeremiah no less a person than God says, and I paraphrase here,' If you could pass me a Bible so that I may read the rest of that Scripture it will give an insight to my thinking on this matter." He opened the Bible and flicked through until he found the passage he was looking for. "'How can you say you have the law when the lying pens of the Scribes have treated them falsely? The wise will be put to shame; they will be dismayed and trapped. Since they have rejected the Word of the Lord, what kind of wisdom do they have? Therefore I will give their wives to other men and their fields to new owners. From the least to the greatest, all are greedy for gain; prophets and priests alike, all practise deceit. They dress the wound of my people as though it were not serious. 'Peace, peace,' they say when there is no peace. Are they ashamed of their loathsome conduct? No, they have no shame at all; they do not even know how to blush so they fall among the fallen; they will be brought down when they are punished." 

"This could mean either the Scribes made deliberate or accidental mistakes when writing a law scroll, or, and this seems to me to be the context of this passage, that the laws that had been written down and were claimed to be God's laws were in fact man's laws. This church has claimed that the rules by which we are to live are God's laws, and should be obeyed without question. This passage not only casts doubts on the veracity of those Laws and obedience to them, but sets out some horrific punishment to those who make those laws. Either way, we should question Scripture because of this passage."

"So your contention is that the Shining Light Christian Church deliberately set out to deceive its followers by using contextually inaccurate Scripture references and false interpretations of Scripture, and by telling these followers that these teachings were of God?"

"Objection!" Johansson was on his feet in a flash.

"What grounds Mister Johansson?" Judge Foley asked.

"This question asks for an opinion."

"Your Honour, what I am asking this witness is the reason that he is taking this action, this reason is based on his establishing, as a result of his examination of the evidence, of the teaching of this church, that the church is guilty of deliberately misusing the Scriptures for its own venal ends. That is what this trial is all about."

"I'll allow it."

"Yes." McIvor answered.

"In your research into the history of the Christian church, to the best of your knowledge, are there other examples of where the church defied the teachings of Jesus?"

"Of course, there are many. For instance the Crusades of the Middle Ages, the stated purpose was to ensure that Christians had access to the Holy Land for their pilgrimages. That access already existed; Christian pilgrims were able to travel freely in and out of the Holy Land. The real reason was that the European powers wanted access to the trade routes coming out of Asia which were funnelled because of the geography of the region through the Middle East. The question that I ask myself is this; 'If it was a crusade 'of God' as was claimed; how come the Christians lost?'"

"At around that time, or a little before, there was a group of Christians in the South of France around Toulouse, Carcassonne and Beziers known as the Cathar. These ostensibly a Catholic sect, but they taught a non-Trinitarian doctrine, one which also centred on the recognition of the importance of Mary Magdalene in the life of Jesus, even claiming that they were married, which differed from that of the Catholic Church. As a result, so history tells us, the Pope of that time, Innocente III, hired a mercenary, Simon de Montfort to eradicate these people. This he did in a particularly vicious and bloody manner, burning many while others he threw bodily from the walls of their castles hundreds of meters into the valley below. This was the beginning of the 'Spanish Inquisition, not the finest hour in Christian history."

"Then there was the St Bartholomew's Day Massacre in France, where thousands of Protestant Huguenots were slaughtered on the orders of Catherine de Medici, the Queen Mother who just happened to be the cousin of the then Pope. The Catholic Church denies that the Pope had foreknowledge of this event, and claim that only 800 people died while the contemporary Protestant accounts put the figure at something like 200,000."

"Then there was the time when greed reigned supreme, the church was selling 'Indulgences' by which the wealthy could buy their way into Heaven. This caused Martin Luther to form a breakaway church, the Protestants. All of these events in history are examples of the church going against the teachings of Jesus and now we have the Pentecostal Evangelical church whose doctrine is diametrically opposed to the teachings of Jesus."

"You've obviously done your homework." Turning to Johansson. "Your witness."

Johansson made a show of consulting his notes before standing up. "Mister McIvor, You are out for revenge, are you not?"

"Not at all. I have looked around me at the way that this church has, and is, taking advantage of its members. It cries poverty but displays wealth. It asks for more while giving less. It pleads for money to continue its 'work of God' when it has enough money in physical and financial assets to enable it to continue its present level of work without calling for additional funds. It uses its members as a free resource, it imposes financial burdens on people who are in no position to give what it requires of them, yet what does it give in return?" 

"It allows them to feel good about themselves for a couple of hours each week and that's about it. It has applied rules to its members that make them feel bad if they have any doubts about what is going on in the church. It is manipulating its members for its own gain, it is controlling the minds of its members for its own gain." McIvor stared at Mayotte and an unspoken message passed between them. On one hand it was saying; "If only you had been prepared to listen to another point of view", while on the other hand there was anger, "How dare you call into question what we are doing!"

"You say that you are not out for revenge yet you launch this legal action against this church, can you explain that?"

"This church, like other Pentecostal churches, understands only one thing, money. It worships only one God, money. In an attempt to try in some small way to prevent them from harming any more people who trust them, misguided though that trust is, I have decided to apply pressure on them to reform in the only way that they will understand, through money."

"So you see yourself as the saviour of the world, the white knight come to save these people who don't even realize that they need saving, who don't need saving." Johansson smirked.

"If I was to discover that a businessman was deceiving me and other people, and I felt that I could do something to bring attention to that situation, I would do it. This is just such a situation."

"So now you are saying that this church, a church of God, is guilty of deception?"

"There are two parts to the answer to that question, I believe, and I have proof of this, that this church is Christian in name only, and yes I believe that it is deceiving its members. I would not be doing as God would want me to if I ignored this situation."

The people in the public gallery were beginning to get uneasy, some were becoming openly hostile at the answers to the questions while others were beginning to take notice of the answers, and were nodding their heads in agreement. Two or three members of the jury were taking notes.




Promises Pt. 02



When I posted the first part of this story I fully expected a barrage of indignant comments about my religious viewpoint. But none appeared. Could it be that those who would normally emerge from wherever to criticise me did not read beyond the opening statement, choosing instead to write it off as blasphemy? Or could it be that they could find no answer other than the Bible is the truth and should not be questioned?

CM.

Chapter 5

Trial Day 3

"But you wouldn't be questioning God, would you Pastor Mayotte? You would be questioning man's version of God.

Day three didn't begin at the normal time for a very good reason. Pastor Mayotte was conspicuous by his absence. "Mister Johansson, where pray tell is your client?" Judge Foley was not in a happy frame of mind.

"I regret to inform the court that my client has been taken ill and is at present undergoing treatment in a medical facility. I am forced to request an indefinite adjournment of this matter."

"Mister Henderson?"

"Your Honour, far be it for me to cast doubts as to the veracity of the witness' illness, but I cannot agree to an indefinite adjournment without compelling medical evidence to support such a request."

"I agree. Mister Johansson I will agree to an adjournment until 2:00pm at which time you will either produce your client, or evidence of his inability to attend. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes your Honour."

A rumour quickly spread around the court room that Mayotte had attempted, unsuccessfully, to take his own life with an overdose of prescription medication. He had been found unconscious by his wife and rushed to hospital where the prognosis was that he was expected to make a full recovery.

At the Shining Light Christian Church, a prayer session was in full swing, the music team was singing its heart out and the Pastors were exhorting the followers that were in attendance, a disappointing number as it turned out, to participate in a prayer vigil until such times as Pastor Mayotte was out of danger.

At the medical facility Pastor Mayotte had been enjoying a sumptuous breakfast with his wife and the treating physician in his suite. Mayotte's cell phone rang and he answered it. "Praise be to you, how may I help?" Those present could hear the agitated voice of Johansson. "What? They want evidence of my condition? Very well, if it's evidence that they want it is evidence that they will get. Leave it with me."

"What is the problem?" Cynthia Mayotte asked.

"That bastard Henderson wouldn't accept Johansson's word that I am ill and unable to be in court today. He demanded medical evidence and the Judge agreed with him. What can we say is wrong with me?"

"You can have a cardiac arrhythmia," His Doctor volunteered, "that sounds impressive and it's easy enough to fake, all we have to do is to down-load a real scan result and put your name to it. We can stall them by saying that we have to run a whole series of tests and it could be days before we get the results back."

"Let's do it! The last thing I want right now is to have to face that cynical bastard. He is taking great delight in tying me up in theological knots. I have to get advice from someone who knows the answers to these questions, someone who has been there and won. I can't lose this because if I do I lose everything."

"Have faith Darling, God will provide the answers."

"At the present time I am a little low on faith. I want a strategy, I want a way that will let me win and I don't think that faith will cut it right now. The first thing that we have to do is to buy some time, then I need ideas, I need advice."

A crisis meeting was in progress at the Shining Light Christian Church. Pastor Fenton had assumed temporary control of the running of the church. "We have to rally behind our Senior Pastor in his time of need! There have been vicious rumours spread that he has attempted suicide, I can assure you that nothing could be further from the truth. While we don't know at this time what the medical emergency is, and I have only now got off the phone to Cynthia, it would seem that he has had some sort of heart attack. The hospital is running further tests to determine the extent of the problem but it is highly likely that the events of the past three weeks have had a significant impact on his condition."

"We as a church have to be seen to be totally supportive of our Senior Pastor, so we will maintain a prayer vigil for as long as necessary. I have contacted all of our affiliated churches throughout Australia and they are sending their best 'prayer warriors' here in a show of solidarity and support. I have also contacted the Senior Pastor of our Parent church in America to alert him of our situation and seek advice. He is coming here, at our expense, to lead the fight against the devil who has dwelt amongst us for the last ten years. We must win this fight! We will win this fight!"

The whole administrative team rose as one in tumultuous applause and cries of 'Right on Brother!', 'We will win!' and 'God will triumph!' echoed through the room. They filed out leaving Pastor Fenton and Janine alone in Mayotte's office. "Tell me what happened." Fenton asked.

"Pastor Mayotte and I came back from the court yesterday afternoon and he was not feeling all that positive. I tried to comfort him the best way that I could but he just collapsed."

"Tell me what happened." Fenton asked more firmly.

"It's as I told you. He was feeling down so I was comforting him."

"How were you comforting him? Did you make him a cup of coffee? Did you give him a shoulder massage to ease the tension? How were you comforting him?"

"I was giving him oral sex, I was sucking him off, all Right!" She burst into tears. She was not prepared to admit to him of all people what had really happened. "If you must know, before I started working here I was on the game." She was safe in admitting this, he already knew. "I was a prostitute and he was one of my regular clients. He saved my life by getting me out of the world of the sex trade, pimps and drugs. It was the very least that I could do for him, and that has been the only way that he has been able to overcome the stress of this job and his life. He asked me to do it to him about six months ago because Cynthia had decided that she wouldn't do it anymore, and we have done it on a regular basis since then. It seems to be the only thing that relaxes him."

"I don't suppose..."

"Forget it!"

"There's no harm in asking. What actually is wrong with him?"

"Nothing, he is just trying to buy time until reinforcements arrive. He is scared witless that he is going to lose this fight and if he does it all goes."

"Does he really think that there is a chance that he could lose?"

"Just think about it. He said that what happened yesterday is just the tip of the iceberg. Henderson is the scout hyena and if he manages to sink his teeth in the whole pack will come swarming in and there won't even be any bones left to pick over."

"It sounds as if he is ready to pack it all in."

"No he's not! But he's a realist who has thought through the repercussions of losing. More than anything right now he wants support from all of us. We have to hold back the enemy until the cavalry arrives."

For some reason Fenton was pleased with this news. He smiled to himself as he left Janine, if he plays his cards right, his ambitions will soon be realised.

Frank and Michael were also in conference. Joan had just stepped out for a few minutes to help Chantelle get in provisions for the long haul. With Frank and Michael were Michael's clerk Jason, and Bill who Michael also used from time to time to gather information. "There's something fishy about that diagnosis." Bill was saying, "If he is as bad as we have been led to believe he would be in the cardiac unit wired for sound, but no, he has a private suite and no-one but no-one is allowed in unless Mayotte clears it. None of the nursing staff have been inside that suite for the last hour, just his wife and some tame physician who, surprise, surprise, just happens to be a member of the Shining Light Christian Church."

"Two can play silly buggers! I am going off to the court right now and I want a second medical opinion. If he's stalling then he is either just buying time so that he can get his head around this or he's got reinforcements coming in. Either way I want to force him back to court as soon as possible!"

Mayotte was back in court. Mayotte was not happy to be back in court. Mayotte was even less happy to be back in court after Judge Foley had finished with him. "If you ever pull a stunt like that again I will see you in jail for contempt of court. Who do you think you are trying to fool with such a transparent stunt like that?"

Mayotte mumbled an apology and braced himself for Henderson's next onslaught.

"Pastor Mayotte, the birth of Jesus was a pretty significant event was it not?"

"Of course, along with his death and resurrection it is the most significant in the life of Christians."

"If it was so significant, how is it then, that neither Mark nor John thought it important enough to mention in their Gospels?"

"I don't know. God must have had a reason."

"When one reads the birth narratives in Matthew and Luke one would think that the Magi and the shepherds would have been tripping over each other, wouldn't one? It must have been crowded in the stable, wouldn't you think?"

"I don't know where this is leading but I suppose that would have been the case."

"But it wasn't! Matthew mentions the visit of the Magi or Wise Men, but makes no mention of the shepherds while Luke completely ignores the Magi. It is almost as if these were two entirely different events."

"As I said before, there must be a reason for that."

"Pastor Mayotte, tell me where did the Gospel writers get their information, neither of them were there?"

"Jesus or his mother Mary must have told them."

"If that was the case then why are they so different?"

"I don't know."

"If Joseph, Mary and the baby Jesus fled to Egypt, how was it that they were still in Jerusalem a month after his birth?"

"Who said that they were?"

"Luke, he tells us that after the period of purification, which is twenty eight days post-natal, Jesus was taken to the temple in Jerusalem to be consecrated, and it wasn't as if that event was kept quiet, we have Simeon, a Holy man taking Jesus in his arms and praising God and then a prophetess, Anna, came up to them and told all about the redemption of Jerusalem. Two things about this, it would have been the perfect opportunity for Herod to kill Jesus but that didn't happen and Matthew doesn't mention it, just as Luke doesn't mention the trip to Egypt. Now doesn't that seem just a little strange to you?"

"Who am I to question God?"

"But you wouldn't be questioning God, would you Pastor Mayotte? You would be questioning man's version of God. One more thing that bothers me about the birth Narrative Pastor Mayotte, why was it, that when Mary and Joseph were told by the angel to leg it to Egypt, because of the impending danger to Jesus, they didn't warn any of the other parents of young children that Herod was going to kill all boys up to age two? A couple of points need clarification here; as there is no time line to this story, how soon after Jesus' birth did this happen? Do you think it consistent of a loving God that He should allow all those innocent children to die?"

"I don't know! God must have had His reasons."

"Another thing that worries me Pastor Mayotte, when exactly was Jesus born?"

"On the 25th of December."

"Are you sure of that?"

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"Are you sure that this wasn't an arbitrary date set by the Emperor Constantine at Nicaea, and that just happens to be his own birthday?"

"No, it was on the 25th of December."

"Does the Bible tell us that?"

"It must be there somewhere."

"It's not. Apart from the fact that the Gregorian calendar in use today wasn't in existence back then, nowhere does the Bible give that date as the date of Christ's birth. Another thing that worries me just a little is that there are two other really major events in the life of Jesus that John doesn't mention, his baptism and the Last Supper. Why do you think that is the case?"

"He does!"

"Where does he?"

"In his Gospel."

"I have read his Gospel from beginning to end, and he doesn't, why would that be, Pastor Mayotte?"

"I don't know!"

"And you've never bothered to find out, have you?"

"I believe in the truth of the Bible!"

"What you mean is that you care so little for God that you can't be bothered to search for the truth, choosing instead to follow a teaching just because it sounds good and makes you feel good, not to mention the fact that it allows you to live a very comfortable lifestyle."

"That's not true!"

"What's not true? That you don't care about God, or that you live a comfortable lifestyle? You would have a hard time convincing me or anyone else that neither of those is true. Speaking as we were of the lack of a baptism and the Last Supper in John, we will explore these important omissions in greater detail later, something to look forward to I would think. Tell me Pastor Mayotte, when Jesus entered Jerusalem, why did he ride a donkey?"

Mayotte's eyes lit up and a smile erupted across his face, he knew the answer to this one. "It was so that a Messianic prophecy would be fulfilled."

"Wow! Go to the head of the class, but don't take your books, because you won't be there long! He used a donkey to tell the Jewish people that he wasn't the military Messiah that they were expecting, he wasn't there to free them from the shackles of Roman bondage, he was a Spiritual Messiah come to save them from their worst enemy, themselves.

Mayotte mumbled to himself. "I beg your pardon, what did you say?" Henderson knew exactly what had been said.

"It was nothing." Mayotte said quietly.

"Nothing? What you said was that you didn't appreciate having to sit here to be lectured on theology. Well Pastor Mayotte, if you had been taught Theology at Bible School instead of how to preach the Bible along Pentecostal lines, I wouldn't have to quiz you to find out how much, or in your case how little, you know about the very book that you claim to have implicit faith in, and which you obey in its entirety. All you learnt was the Scriptures that fitted the Pentecostal ideology and how to use them."

"Tell me Pastor Mayotte, I admit to being a little confused here, can you tell me why, in Matthew's account of this event, while Jesus is entering the city the people are chanting 'Hosanna, Son of David, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!' then, in the same breath, they had to ask who he was, a little confusing, don't you think?"

"I can't explain that, there must be some mistake."

"Mistake? Did I hear you just say mistake? How could that be? It is the word of God and therefore without error!"

"I didn't mean that there was a mistake in the Bible, what I meant was that you have made a mistake in how you interpret it."

"I think your first reaction was the correct one. Now getting back to the passage; could it be that this was a rent-a-crowd that was ignorant as to the purpose of the procession and had to ask who Jesus was, and what it was about?"

"I don't know."

"Apart for the fact that the crowd didn't know who he was, the different accounts have different recollections of what was placed on the roadway, Matthew, for instance, has the crowd laying branches, what kind of branches isn't specified but it wouldn't have been palms because they have fronds, not branches. Mark and Luke on the other hand have cloaks laid in Jesus' path while John is the only one to mention palm fronds. Apart from the fact that we, as Christians, celebrate his entry into Jerusalem with 'Palm Sunday' it does highlight a discrepancy in the Scriptural recollections, how do you explain that, Pastor Mayotte?"

"I can't explain that, the Gospel writers must have got it wrong."

"But it is the 'Word of God'; it cannot have any mistakes in it, can it? Otherwise it could not be the inerrant 'Word of God' now, can it? Now when Jesus arrived in Jerusalem he went into the temple and drove out the traders, is this correct?"

"Yes, that's what it says in the Bible."

"When? When did he do that?"

"What do you mean when?"

"Well according to Matthew and Luke he did it on the day he arrived in Jerusalem, while Mark has him arriving too late to do anything that day and returning the next day to drive them out. Which one is correct?"

"I don't know, they both could be, but I'm not too sure about it."

"When does John have him doing it? The first day like Matthew and Luke or the next day as in Mark?"

"I'm not sure I'll have to look that one up."

"Don't bother, I'll tell you when, he doesn't! There is a mention in the Gospel of John of Jesus turning over the trading tables, but it was at the beginning of his ministry, not at the end as in the other Gospels. If you don't believe me look at John Chapter 2 verses 14 through 16. Do you find that hard to believe?"

"Yes."

"But if the Bible is the 'Word of God and is without error as you maintain, how do you explain these apparent anomalies?"

"I can't."

"Moving on to the Last Supper, again I find myself confused by some apparent variations in the accounts. For instance Matthew has Jesus predicting his crucifixion but the others don't, Matthew and Mark have Jesus and the disciples going to Bethany where Jesus' feet are anointed with expensive perfume, but Luke and John don't, in fact John makes no mention of the Passover Feast having been the Last Supper at all. In his Gospel he tells us that the disciples believed that judas Iscariat, when he left them, was going to make arrangements for the Passover feast. At the Supper Matthew has Jesus identifying Judas as his betrayer, while in Mark Jesus predicts his betrayal but doesn't identify his betrayer and Luke tells the disciples that this will be the last time he will eat the Passover feast with them before he suffers. Luke is the only writer to have Jesus passing the bread and the cup to the disciples. Matthew, Mark and Luke all have Jesus predicting Peter's denial. Luke has someone producing two swords and Jesus telling them that one would be enough. Not a very harmonious account so far is it Pastor Mayotte?"

"It wouldn't appear to be I must admit."

"John's recollection of events leading up to Jesus' betrayal are somewhat different. While he gives Judas a piece of bread to signify that he was the betrayer, it wasn't at the Passover Feast, in fact John has the disciples assuming that when Judas left them he was going to make preparations for the Passover Feast. Can you explain these differences given your claim that these Gospels are without error?"

"No."

"Off to the Garden of Gethsemane and more confusion. Jesus goes off on his own to pray, all right so far, Matthew and Mark have Peter, James and John sleeping while Luke has all of them asleep. Luke has an angel appear to Jesus to strengthen him for the ordeal ahead, while the other three don't. Luke has Jesus sweating tears of blood, the others don't."

"Now we come to Judas arriving with the soldiers to arrest Jesus, now you'd think that this would be pretty straight forward wouldn't you Pastor Mayotte?"

"It is."

"That's where you're wrong, it isn't straight forward at all! Matthew has Judas lead the crowd to Jesus and kissing him to identify him, Mark has Judas leading the crowd, calling Jesus 'Rabbi' and then kissing him, Luke has Judas leading the crowd and Jesus asking him if he is betraying the son of Man with a kiss, now John, John as a totally different spin on this whole affair. Judas guides a detachment of soldiers and officials from the chief Priests and Pharisees to Jesus. Jesus asks them, 'Who is it you want?' To which they reply, 'Jesus of Nazareth.' He answers 'I am he.' The question and answer are repeated and then Jesus adds, 'I have told you that I am he, if you are looking for me let these men go.' Now that is a very important moment, Jesus is confronting his accusers and begging them to let his disciples go, but Matthew, Mark and Luke obviously don't think it important to mention. Or was it that we know Mark and Luke weren't there, so would have no knowledge of this exchange, but Matthew was there, so why didn't he mention it?" 




Promises Pt. 02



"Then someone cuts off someone else's ear. Matthew says it is one of Jesus' companions and the person who lost the ear was a servant of the High Priest. Mark has someone standing near doing the slicing, Luke specifies that it was one of the disciples who did it, while John identifies that person as Peter. Now it could have been Peter in all four Gospels but that would beg the question; why didn't Matthew, Mark and Luke identify him?"

"I don't know."

"Then an amazing thing happened in Luke but nowhere else, Jesus healed him, the ear was put back on! That would have been amazing to see, don't you think Pastor Mayotte?"

"Yes, but it isn't beyond the powers of Jesus."

"I agree entirely. And it surely would have been a demonstration to those present of Jesus' amazing healing powers and confirming to them that he was something special, and that just maybe he was who it was claimed he was, don't you agree?"

"I would have to agree with that."

"But why didn't the other three Gospels mention it if it was so amazing, can you tell me that?"

"No! You keep asking these questions knowing that there is no answer for them!"

"Have you even thought that you should look for an answer rather than just accepting that it was true? What I am trying to ascertain is if you have given any thought to why these variations have happened?"

"No."

"So you just accept it, warts and all?"

"A colourful way of putting it, but yes."

"Could it be that to acknowledge that there are differences is also to acknowledge that the Bible cannot be the inerrant Word of God?" There was no response from Mayotte.

"Now Pastor Mayotte, when Jesus was arrested, where was he taken?"

"To the High Priest."

"That would be Caiaphas, wouldn't it?"

"Yes."

"Well you are a quarter right, that's what Matthew tells us, but Mark has him being taken before the Sanhedrin, Chief Priests, elders and teachers of the Law, maybe Caiaphas was there but Mark doesn't mention that. Luke doesn't exactly say where he was taken at first but has soldiers mocking him and asking him to prophecy which one of them was hitting him while he was blindfolded, then taking him to the council of Elders. John on the other hand, has him going to Annas first where he is questioned about his disciples and his teaching, only then is he taken to Caiaphas. A little confusing wouldn't you think?"

"If you say so."

"I am glad you answered my question that way because that is how Matthew and Luke say that Jesus answered when he was asked if he was the Son of God. Mark's recording of the answer was slightly different while John does not have Jesus being asked that question at all. It is somewhere around here that Matthew and only Matthew mentions that Judas kills himself by hanging, why is this Pastor Mayotte? I would have thought it an important enough event for all to mention, but no, just Matthew."

"I don't know why the others didn't mention that."

"On that subject, Luke, the writer of Acts has Judas falling down and his guts spilling out. A somewhat different death, wouldn't you say?"

"It would seem so."

"But you haven't questioned the difference, why haven't you? Again I will tell you why. It's because, to question the difference you would have to acknowledge that there is a difference, a discrepancy, a contradiction, and acknowledge that the Bible cannot be the inerrant word of God that you claim it to be."

"The Bible is the true word of God! I believe that, I have faith in that! There is nothing that you can say that will change that!"

"I feel sorry for you and your lack of interest in anything other than Pentecostal teaching, because you are missing out on so much. We come now to the questioning of Jesus at his trial. Pilate asks him if he was the 'king of the Jews' Matthew, Mark and Luke have him answer with 'If you say so.' He doesn't actually claim to be the king of the Jews, he is saying to his questioners that, 'if you say that it's true, it must be true.' But John heads down a completely different path. Were you aware of that?"

"Does it matter?"

"You place a great deal of store in the inerrancy of the Bible, I would have assumed that you would make yourself aware of these discrepancies in case you had to answer questions like this."

"My answer is as it always is, I believe in the Bible and the Bible is the truth."

"Speaking of truth; according to John, when Pilate asked him if he were the King of the Jews he replied 'You are right in saying that I am a king', notice he didn't confirm he was actually the king of the Jews, and then, 'Everyone on the side of truth listens to me.' Pilate's response is significant in the context of all of this, he asks, 'What is truth?' What is truth, Pastor Mayotte?"

There was no response.

"Don't you have an interest in the truth Pastor Mayotte? Have you never, during your extensive Bible study asked yourself 'What is the truth?'."

"The Bible is the truth!" Mayotte's face was flushed, his voice strained. "Why can't you accept that!" 

"Because there are so many examples of inconsistencies in the narratives for all of the Gospels to be the literal truth. They could all be true in spirit, but they cannot, just cannot, all be the literal truth and you insist on literal truth. Why can't you accept that recognition of man's input into the gospels in no way diminishes their importance, they are after all a chronology of Jesus life as an illustration of the person of Jesus, of his humanness, his humanity and his humility." 

"Pilate tells the Chief Priests according to Luke, and the crowd according to John, that he can find no basis for any charges laid against Jesus. Then Luke, the only one of the Gospel writers to do this, brings Herod into the equation. When Pilate hears that Jesus is a Galilean he realizes that he has no jurisdiction over him and sends him off to Herod. Now Pastor Mayotte, I would have thought that this would have been significant enough for all of the Gospel writers to mention, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know." His voice was becoming increasingly exasperated. "And I don't really know why you are bringing all this up."

"I am bringing this up to demonstrate to you and your ilk that the Bible, while it is still the most significant document in the life of the Christian church, is not without the influence of man. Now, Pastor Mayotte, one or two of the Gospel writers must have been colour blind."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because they couldn't tell the difference between scarlet and purple. Matthew has Jesus being dressed in a scarlet robe while Mark and John have its colour as purple, Luke on the other hand just has him dressed in an elegant robe. A bit of a difference wouldn't you say?"

"Not Earth shattering enough to make a big deal about."

"I found it interesting some time back while I was watching a television broadcast from the US, one of your Pentecostal colleagues, John Avanzini I think it was but don't quote me on that, anyway he used that bit of Scripture to justify his expensive clothing, he said, 'John 19 tells us that Jesus wore designer clothes, I mean, you didn't get that stuff He wore off the rack. No, this was custom stuff. It was the kind of garment that kings and rich merchants wore.' or words to that effect. He made no mention of the fact that those 'designer' robes that he wore were not his everyday attire, but not his everyday attire, but were those placed on him by the soldiers at his trial so that they could mock him. That is so typical of the 'instant coffee theology' practiced by the Pentecostal church and its 'Prosperity' Ministries. Are you a part of that, Pastor Mayotte?"

"I believe that the 'Word of God' is the truth, and should not be questioned."

"But it says in John that he wore a purple robe so it must be true, and purple robes were worn by kings and rich merchants so Jesus was wearing clothes fit for a king or rich merchant. He was after all a descendent of King David who was the King of the Jews, so he must have been rich, so why shouldn't Pastors wear designer clothes? You can see how easy it is to twist the truth? Can't you Pastor Mayotte?"

"The Bible is the 'word of God' and everything in it is the truth!"

"We're getting near the home stretch. Pastor Mayotte, who carried Jesus' cross to Calvary?"

"Everyone knows that it was Simon the Cyrene."

"John didn't know that! He had Jesus carry his own cross. On the way Jesus is offered a drink, do you know what it was?"

When Mayotte didn't answer straight away Henderson looked at him, "Well Pastor Mayotte, what was in the drink?"

"I'm sorry I didn't answer straight away, I was waiting for you to call my name in that derisive tone you have taken to using. It was wine laced with something."

"Near enough, it was wine or wine vinegar depending on whether you believe Matthew or Mark and it was laced with either gall or myrrh, also depending on whether you believed Matthew or Mark. Pastor Mayotte, it must have been pretty scary around the time that Jesus died, what with the earthquake and the temple curtain tearing, and the tombs breaking open and the bodies of the holy people raised to life to hang around for three days before going into the Holy City and being seen by many people, and the sun stops shining, the people around there must have been scared out of their wits, wouldn't you think?"

"I would have been. I would certainly have been afraid if the wrath of God manifested itself in that way."

"Are you saying that God was angry that Jesus was crucified? Now why would God have been angry if He could so easily have prevented it? Why would He be angry because mankind did something that you tell me was pre-ordained by God?"

"I don't know!"

Henderson lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper. "But not all the Gospel writers were scared by some or all of those events, John certainly wasn't because he didn't mention them and Mark only mentions the torn curtain. Odd wouldn't you say, Pastor Mayotte?"

"No." 

"Is that it? Just 'no?' You're not a tad curious about the discrepancies? I suppose not. One of your fellow evangelists, Joyce Meyer, came up with an amazing statement about the death of Jesus, I had to listen to it several times to make sure that I didn't mis-hear her. She said, 'With his death Jesus was no longer the Son of God, by taking on our sins he became sin itself so that we could be free of sin', or words to that effect. Where did she come up with that? I don't know, do you Pastor Mayotte?" 

Mayotte remained silent.

"Now we know that Jesus was taken by Joseph of Aramathea and placed in a tomb, but who anointed the body, and when was it done?"

"Jesus' mother and Mary Magdalene. There may have been more. It was done straight away and they would have used normal embalming practices."

"This is another area of confusion, Matthew and Mark just have him being placed in a tomb, and we have to assume that he would have been embalmed in the usual way because they didn't see it as important enough to note any variation of normal practices. Luke has him being anointed with spices and perfume but it wasn't done until the next day (the Sabbath) and John, well he specifies that the body was anointed in 75 pounds of myrrh and aloe, something of an overkill I would have thought, and he was wrapped in strips of linen before being laid in the tomb."

"These are only minor differences, certainly not enough to make a big deal of.

"But it is a small part of a much bigger picture isn't it, and that is that the Christian Bible is so full of errors, contradictions, inconsistencies, and confusion that it couldn't possibly be the 'inerrant word of God' as claimed by your church. Pastor Mayotte you've had a hard day today, what with your 'heart attack' and all, I'm feeling a touch of sympathy here, so I might just request an adjournment until tomorrow to allow you to recover from today's efforts."

"Mister Johansson?"

"No objections your Honour." The court was adjourned.

"Why did you let up on him? You were on a roll." Frank asked Michael as he pushed his papers back into the folder.

"Because I want him to stew some more, because tomorrow I am really going to make him squirm and all the high powered Penties from America are not going to save him."

The latest news of the trial dominated the evening news and current affairs programs with opinions polarized. Phone-ins conducted by the commercial television channels were loaded in favour of Frank and there was a fair amount of 'Penty bashing' and the more this occurred the more sympathy was generated for the Pentecostal cause. The friends of the Shining Light Christian Church were rallying to the cause, SMS thumbs worked overtime, phones ran hot and the telephone carriers made a fortune.

The arguments for the church centred on the inerrancy line; the Bible is the inerrant 'Word of God' and as such should never be questioned. The other side maintained that even 'Blind Freddie' could see that there were errors and inconsistencies in the Bible but that it still remained an important, if not the most important, document in the life of the Christian church.

Mayotte had been 'relieved' twice before he called the troops together. "We are going to have to develop a 'fall back' strategy. We are going into full damage control here. This man Henderson is like a terrier, he is not going to let go now that he can smell my blood. I don't know how to stop him, but we must find a way."

"Maybe we should look into his background to see if there isn't something that we can use against him." Fenton suggested. "He is making all of the running here, but if there is something in his past that we can use, then maybe we can get him to back off, after all none of us are squeaky clean." His gaze lit briefly on Janine who lowered her head. Mayotte caught the exchange, it disturbed him. He had an uneasy feeling that someone within his organization was feeding information to the enemy, could it be his most trusted servant?

Many of the assembled Pastors and Administrative staff were advocating radical action that involved physical violence and destruction of property. Mayotte told them that he couldn't condone acts of this nature but inwardly applauded their loyalty to him and part of him wished them well in such endeavours.

Mayotte arrived home at around 7.30pm. "Sorry I'm late, the strategy meeting went on a little longer than expected, some of the guys were getting a little carried away, wanting to blow up the enemy." He bent to kiss his wife.

"I wanted to be there, I want to stand beside you through this whole mess, I am after all your wife." She didn't quite succeed in hiding the hurt in her voice. Mayotte missed it nonetheless. "I watched the news on TV and the consensus was that Henderson had the edge over you, that you were struggling to answer his questions and were in danger of losing your composure at times."

"I'm not concerned at what the media think, they have already made up their minds what the outcome of this will be and they couldn't be happier little heathens." He ate his meal in silence.



Chapter 6

Trial Day 4

"Are you trying to tell me that the Bible is lying, that this event didn't happen at all?"

The day started in sensational fashion. The news services were full of the events of the night before which saw the firebombing of the offices of Michael Henderson & Associates, Solicitors, which resulted in significant damage to the building and its contents. 

Henderson called a press conference to be held in the court house foyer at 8:30am, a time and place for maximum impact. Those entering the court house could not avoid the melee, and it was early enough to make the late morning TV news services.

Microphones were shoved in front of his face and questions were flying at him one on top of the other. He held up his hands and silence overtook them. "At around 11:00pm last night an incendiary device was thrown through the front door of my offices. It caused considerable damage to the inside of my offices but the damage will have no effect on this trial. While filing cabinets suffered superficial damage, none of the contents were destroyed, sensitive material pertaining to this matter and all other matters, were located in another part of the office in secure fireproof vaults, as well as that, all files have been backed up onto external hard drives and these are also kept in a separate secure environment. What I can say is that the apprehension of the culprit or culprits will only be a matter of time as the police are, right this very minute, viewing the wealth of CCTV material that I have given them. I had an idea that something like this might happen, and it only strengthens my resolve in this matter. Thank you ladies and gentlemen, come inside for the fun, I promise you that it will be an interesting day." He turned and walked into the court building followed by the media.

"Mister Henderson, are you ready to proceed?"

"Yes your Honour." He glanced briefly at an unhappy Mayotte. "Pastor Mayotte, today we are going to spend some time looking at the Pentecostal ideology and how well it fits in with your assertion of total obedience to the 'Word of God'. Tell me Pastor Mayotte, your church practices full immersion baptism, is that correct?"

"That is correct."

"Where in the Bible does it tell you to do it that way?"

"In the Gospels, they tell us that after Jesus was baptized he 'came up out of the water."

"But the Gospels tell us that John the Baptist was baptizing with water, not in water. That he was baptizing with water in the River Jordan. I repeat, it does not say that he was baptizing in water. In any case not all of the Gospels have Jesus being baptized by John the Baptist at all."

"Yes they do."

"I beg to differ. In Luke for instance, if you were to follow his chronology, Jesus couldn't have been baptized by John the Baptist because John was in jail at the time. And John's Gospel doesn't have Jesus being baptized at all. He has Jesus walking past where John was baptizing people and John identifying him as the one who will baptize in the Spirit, but he never baptizes Jesus. The next question I have is; why? Why was John baptizing, after all it wasn't standard practice of that time?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that baptism is a practice exclusive to the Christian church, but the Christian church didn't exist when John the Baptist was baptizing with water in the River Jordan, did it?" Henderson place a heavy emphasis on the words 'with' and 'in'. "While we are on this subject; according to the Gospel of John, Jesus was going to baptize with the Spirit, is this not so Pastor Mayotte?"

"Yes that is what the Bible tells us."

"Then why doesn't he?"

"What?"

"Why doesn't Jesus baptize people in the Spirit?"

"He must have, surely."

"Pastor Mayotte you obviously haven't researched this in any depth, your knowledge of baptism is confined to a few scraps of Scripture that you believe support your baptism practice, and what has become accepted by your church, purely because it is in common usage, not because it is a scripturally valid practice. There is absolutely no record in the Gospels, any of the Gospels, of Jesus having baptized anyone in the Spirit or using any other method, not even his own disciples."

Mayotte sat in stunned silence.

"If baptism is such an important part of Christian liturgy one would have expected that Jesus would, at the very least, have baptized his own disciples, wouldn't one Pastor Mayotte? In fact it says in the Gospel of John, and I quote," Henderson picked up his Bible and opened it at a marked page, "'The Pharisees heard that Jesus was gaining and baptizing more disciples than John, although in fact it was not Jesus who baptized, but his disciples.' It can't get much clearer than that, Jesus was not baptizing, now why would that be so?"




Promises Pt. 02



Mayotte again remained silent.

"Just a point of interest Pastor Mayotte; baptism is a Christian ritual, it is not a Jewish ritual, it is not mentioned anywhere in the Old Testament. Now Jesus was a Jew, John the Baptist was a Jew, the disciples were all Jews, so I have to ask again, why on Earth would Jews be carrying out Christian rituals when the Christian church had not even been formed?"

"Are you trying to tell me that the Bible is lying, that this event didn't happen at all?"

"No, all that I'm saying is that baptism is a Christian and not Jewish ritual, I would have to question its scriptural validity. And why was Jesus baptized by full immersion, when that process is meant to symbolize, according to your church, an event that was yet to come?"

"The Bible is the true word of God and all in it is the truth. How can you question the truth?"

"And that is your only answer to any questioning of the Bible, isn't it Pastor Mayotte? You have given it no thought, have you Pastor Mayotte? Because this is an area of Scripture that you avoid, isn't that right Pastor Mayotte? I won't embarrass you by asking for an answer to these questions because you have no answer."

"Another thing, if I can just read you this from the list of what the Assemblies of God Church, and your church being a card carrying member of that organisation, believes; 'We believe that in order to live the holy and fruitful lives that God intends for us, we need to be baptized in water and be filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit enables us to use Spiritual gifts, including speaking in tongues, which is the initial evidence of baptism in the Holy Spirit.'. Your church believes that full immersion baptism symbolizes Jesus' death and resurrection and that a person is not a 'Born Again Christian' unless he or she is baptized by full immersion and comes up out of the water speaking in tongues, is this not correct?"

"Yes, it is done as the Bible tells us."

"Where does the Bible tell you that? I have read the New Testament from beginning to end and can find no reference to this practice. Nowhere does it spell out the method of baptism apart from it being with water, and nowhere does it say that you have to emerge speaking in tongues. Nowhere does it mention that speaking in tongues is 'evidence of baptism in the Holy Spirit. In fact nowhere in the bible is what your church calls tongues mentioned."

"That's a lie! There are one hundred and seventy references to tongue or tongues, give or take a few, in the Old and New Testaments!"

"You can count can you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I have heard that figure quoted on many occasions by the Pentecostal preachers, and recently by one of your 'awesome man of God' speakers and do you know what? I'll tell you what! That figure corresponds with the number of listings of 'tongue' and 'tongues' in this book." He held up a copy of Strong's Concise Concordance of the Bible. "There are a hundred and sixty six references to 'tongue' or 'tongues' in here and do you know what? Less than one percent of these listing are a direct reference in support of glossolalia or 'tongues'. But I'll be getting back to that shortly. Tell me Pastor Mayotte, when a person is baptized is that the very moment that he or she has given him or herself to God?"

"Yes, it is a very Spiritual moment."

"Really? I was always under the impression that the person had already made the decision before the baptism event, and that they have to attend baptism classes after they make that decision to prepare them for the occasion, and that this is not the earth shattering moment that you would have us believe, just a public affirmation of that previously made decision. In the case of the Pentecostal church the act of immersion and rising out of the water spouting tongues is merely the affirmation of obedience to the rules of the church, it has nothing whatever to do with God or obedience to God."

"No, that is wrong, it is confirmation of the receipt of the 'gifts of the Spirit."

"Must I explain it to you again? That is where you are wrong. You should throw your concordance away and actually study the Bible. None of the 'tongues' references in the Old Testament refer to glossolalia or speaking in tongues and nearly all of the New Testament references refer to speaking in other tongues or languages unknown to the speaker."

"That's a lie! In the book of Acts, Chapter 2 it clearly states that the disciple spoke in other tongues."

"So it does. Instant coffee again! Why do you stop at verse 4? Shall I tell you why? You stop there because to go further will reveal to you, if you were ever open to such revelation, that the other tongues or languages were so that the disciples could carry out the 'Great Commission' that Jesus charged them with, and spread the word of God to the four corners of the world. The gift at Pentecost could more accurately be described as speaking in a foreign language that they, the disciples that is, never knew before, were, up to that point in time unable to speak or understand, nothing whatever to do with glossolalia."

"As you should know, the disciples were nearly all illiterate Galilean fishermen who could only speak Aramaic or Galilean or whatever language they spoke. If they were to preach to a Greek for instance, the Greek person would not understand what they were saying. The gathering that they addressed at Pentecost included a whole bunch of people who wouldn't have understood them, so God gave the disciples the gift of speaking in a language that they didn't know, to interpret from their own language to the language of those present, so that those who didn't know the disciples' language could understand the word of God. That, Pastor Mayotte is the gift of 'tongues' given to the disciples at Pentecost, not the ability to speak in some unintelligible gibberish that you claim it was."

"But that's not the only time that 'tongues' is mentioned in the Bible!"

"You're right again!" Henderson's voice took on a sarcastic edge. "You are so right! Let us have a look at these references? Do you have any favourites Pastor Mayotte? I do believe that 1st Corinthians 14:4 is popular with the Pentecostal church and I don't even have to look it up because, listening to recordings of your church's messages, I have heard it used many, many times in your church, 'He who speaks in tongues edifies himself.' I was listening to a CD of one of your services and a Pastor, it wasn't you, used that passage, and then added 'let's all speak in tongues and be edified!' Can you see anything wrong with that, Pastor Mayotte?"

"I personally can't, but obviously you can, otherwise you wouldn't have brought it up."

"The very answer I expected. You, personally can't see anything wrong with it, but it is so very wrong! This is yet another example of your 'instant coffee theology'. Only a small fragment of the passage was used and, if the whole passage had been used, a completely different context would emerge, one that unfortunately doesn't agree with the fragment used. The practice of glossolalia is based on a fragment of Scripture taken out of context while Paul devotes four chapters of his first Letter to the Corinthians to explaining how they had got it wrong. I think that we should take a much closer look at these Chapters, don't you?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Objection!"

"Yes Mister Johansson?"

"Your Honour I fail to see the relevance of this line of questioning."

"Unfortunately for you and your client I feel that the relevance is perfectly clear, so I am going to allow it. Continue Mister Henderson."

"Pastor Mayotte, 1st Corinthians 12 through 15 deals with orderly worship practices in the church and is critical of egoistic and self indulgent practices because they edify no-one but the person practicing them. Paul starts by urging the people to follow the way of love and eagerly desire spiritual gifts, especially the gift of prophecy. Do you believe that a tongue, or glossolalia, is a Spiritual gift?"

"Of course!"

"Where did you get that idea?"

"It was one of the gifts given to the disciples at Pentecost!"

"Not glossolalia. We've just been through this. Glossolalia was definitely not one of the gifts given to the disciples at Pentecost. The gift of the ability to speak in a language or languages unknown to the disciples was, but not to speak in some unintelligible gibberish and, if you were to look at the references to tongues in that light, when you read these chapters a much clearer picture emerges as to how we should carry out our worship."

"Unfortunately for me or anyone else who attempts to demonstrate that your teaching is false, you will have none of it. As soon as anyone points out that your interpretation of Scripture could be flawed, you refuse to listen. Because if you did listen, you would have to concede that you may have been wrong all along. The name of the Pentecostal movement, I won't call it a church, is derived from that small section of Scripture. Just because the 'charismatic utterances', that emerged from the Azusa Street church in the early part of the last century, looked and sounded spectacular, doesn't make it right. It is now an integral part of the show called church, but that still doesn't make it right."

"In Chapter 12 Paul discusses the gifts of the Spirit and there are a couple of salient points. One is that we are not all given all of the Spiritual gifts, or in fact all given one of the spiritual gifts, and the practice of everyone babbling away like a flock of squawking seagulls fighting over the last crumb at a picnic is not even one of them. However, the gift of speaking in another language and the interpretation of that language is. One person can speak the language while another interprets, or the same person can speak and interpret. Whatever way it is done, Paul goes to great length to tell the Corinthians that speaking in 'tongues' without interpretation is not a Spiritual gift, it edifies no-one other than the person speaking it, not the whole church, and it should not be a part of orderly worship."

"It would appear that someone from Corinth was there at Pentecost and saw what happened. He was probably one of those on the fringe of that event who thought that the disciples had been hitting the sauce bottle a little early and were just a little 'tired and emotional'. But didn't Peter deny that they were drunk? Anyway it would seem that the people in the Corinthian church had taken to 'speaking in an unknown tongue' thinking that to do so was showing that they were spiritual, and it escalated from there to the point where it was dominating the whole worship, not unlike your church, Pastor Mayotte?"

"He also says 'do not forbid the speaking of tongues!"

"You surprise me, again you are perfectly correct! But we'll deal with that in a few minutes. The gifts that Paul lists, in the order that he lists them are; the message of wisdom, the message of knowledge, healing, miraculous powers, prophecy, to be able to distinguish between spirits, and last of all, the gift of speaking in different tongues and interpretation of tongues. All of these gifts are the work of the same Spirit who bestows them to each person as he determines. As the spirit determines, Pastor Mayotte, not as the church determines, and not all gifts to all people or one gift to all people, or even all gifts to one person, each gift is given to the person who can use that gift for the benefit of the work of God."

"So you see Pastor Mayotte, the practice of the Pentecostal church and the Charismatic movement of everyone babbling away in an unknown gibberish is directly contrary to this teaching of Paul, and the continued practice of this highlights your church's selective obedience to instant coffee theology, not, as you continue to claim, total obedience to Scripture."

Mayotte sat in stunned silence. He wished that inspiration hadn't deserted him in his hour of need. Every time he gave what he thought was the right answer to the question it was thrown back in his face.

"Continuing on with Chapter 12 for a while longer, Paul tells the Corinthians that the body is a unit made up of many parts which, when combined, form just one body and that to envy the position of other parts doesn't mean that your part is any the less important to the functioning of the body. What he means is that if we all did the same thing and neglected the other functions of the body, the body as a whole would not function. What that also means is that if we all speak in tongues and tithe, believing that this is all we need to do to be good Christians, we are deceiving ourselves and everyone else."

"Doesn't Paul say something about speaking in the tongues of men and angels? Doesn't that refer to speaking in tongues?"

"Please Pastor Mayotte, if you are going to throw Scripture at me, respect my intelligence and put it in context. What Paul was saying was 'I might be the most eloquent of speakers but if I speak without love I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. The sound of the gong is a hollow sound so your words are similarly hollow if they are spoken without love."

"In Chapter 14 he mentions the flute or harp, and that unless there is a distinction between notes no-one will know what is being played. Have you ever been to an orchestral recital and witnessed the members of the orchestra tuning their instruments prior to the performance. To the audience the sounds that are made have no real meaning but to the players they are most important. And when the conductor taps his baton on the lectern and brings everyone to order, the sounds that issue forth from the instruments combine with each other to form the exquisite body of work that the composer visualized when he wrote it."

"Paul also said that he thanked God that he 'spoke in tongues more than all of you.' I have heard that used to justify speaking in tongues but if you were to read on, a completely different context emerges. He goes on to say 'But in church I would rather speak five intelligible words to instruct others than ten thousand words in a tongue. Brothers, stop thinking like children. In regard to evil be infants, but in your thinking be adults. In the law it is written: 'Through men of strange tongues and through the lips of foreigners I will speak to this people, but even then they will not listen to me,' says the Lord.' To me this means that if someone speaks to me in a 'language' that I do not understand, I will probably shut my mind to what is being said, and I will not profit from what may otherwise have been some very wise teaching. This could also mean that if you were to get up in your church and speak for an hour in, say, Swahili, you might speak with passion but, unless you or someone else translated your words the whole thing would have been a monumental waste of time. I speak to you in a language called truth, but you have shut your mind to the truth, and do not understand a word of it."

The members in the public gallery were curious as to how this person who was not a 'man of God' was able to corner Pastor Mayotte at every turn. Those who were so used to unquestioned acceptance of teachings were just now beginning to look on the Bible in a new light. It was no longer the black and white document that they had been led to believe it to be, but one that was open to interpretation and which their church, rather than literal application of the Scripture, was using selective interpretation, and not all that accurately.

"Moving on, Pastor Mayotte I am going to labour this point a little while longer. Paul tells the Corinthians, and I quote, 'So it is with you. Unless you speak intelligible words with your tongue, how will anyone know what you are saying? Undoubtedly there all sorts of languages in the world, yet none is without meaning. If then I do not grasp the meaning of what someone is saying, I am a foreigner to the speaker, and he is a foreigner to me. So it is with you. Since you are eager to have spiritual gifts, try to excel in gifts that build up the church. For this reason anyone who speaks in a tongue should pray that he may interpret what he says.' Pastor Mayotte that makes it pretty clear that speaking in tongues without interpretation does nothing to benefit the church."

"But he differentiates between speaking in tongues and praying in tongues." Mayotte had at last thought of a way out of his predicament.

"I'm glad you raised that point." Mayotte now had the feeling of someone who had just struggled to the top of the well, his hands were on the rim ready to pull himself out and Henderson had stamped on his fingers and he had found himself back at the bottom of the well, and it was cold and lonely down there.

Without even consulting his notes or a Bible, Henderson began. "For if I pray in a tongue, my spirit prays, but my mind is unfruitful. So what shall I do? I will pray with my spirit, but will I also pray with my mind; I will sing with my spirit, but will I also sing with my mind. If you are praising God with your spirit, how can one who finds himself among those who do not understand say 'Amen' to your thanksgiving, since he does not know what you are saying? You may be giving thanks well enough, but the other man is not edified. I thank God I speak in tongues more than all of you. But in church I would rather speak five intelligible words to instruct others than ten thousand words in a tongue.' What Paul is saying is that you should pray with your spirit, and that you should also pray with your mind, in other words think about what you are praying for and about, so that those around you understand your prayer. That doesn't support your cause very much, does it?"

"If you say so." Mayotte mumbled.

"If I say so?" Henderson jabbed his finger onto the page of his open bible. "In here Paul says so and you are supposed to be obedient to what is written in this book." He turned the Bible around so that the printed page faced Mayotte. "What Paul is saying is that if you speak a language that no-one understands you are wasting your time, if you pray in a language that no-one understands you will get no support from those around you because they don't have a clue what you have just prayed for. In any case you really are wasting your time because, for one thing, how will you know that your prayers have even been answered if you don't know what you have prayed for?"

"God answers all prayers."

Henderson ignored the interruption. "And another thing, in Matthew we are told that God knows what we are praying for even before we pray, so why bother praying in tongues? It serves absolutely no useful purpose other than tell those around you that, according to the rules of the Pentecostal church, you believe that, by succumbing to the rules of the church and the pressure of your peers, you are a very spiritual person. But it does nothing to edify them and this is the whole point of this part of Paul's letter to the Corinthians, to do only those things in church that edify the whole body of the church, and if what you felt to do serves no useful purpose, then remain silent."

"It's all about an orderly worship, not a case of everyone doing their own thing. I read recently that the Southern Baptist church in the US was distancing itself from, as they termed it, 'private prayer language', which is, praying in tongues. Seems strange that they should do that if it is so scripturally correct, wouldn't you agree?"

"I don't know anything about that."

"If I can use one of Paul's analogies again; if the musicians in the symphony orchestra all decided to ignore the music and the conductor and do their own thing, all that would result would be a cacophony of sound, the beauty of the music would be lost."

"Have you finished your lecture?" Mayotte asked.




Promises Pt. 02



"Finished? I have just begun to fight!"

"What have you got against the Pentecostal church?"

"What I have against it, and what I intend to prove is; while it has adopted this 'holier than thou' attitude to the rest of the world and other Christian churches, and while it has trumpeted from the rooftops how it believes that the "Word of God' is without fault and should be obeyed totally, it does not practice what it preaches. Not only that but it proclaims strict obedience to the teachings of Jesus when the opposite is the case. That, Pastor Mayotte is what I have against the Pentecostal church, and do you know what? As you are about to find out, I can prove my case and the church cannot, and will not be able to disprove it."

There was a general buzz throughout the public gallery, the gloves were off, the gauntlet had been thrown down. Could the church rise to defeat the challenge? There were some who thought not, some who thought that the church would prevail, after all didn't it have God on its side? And the others who were just hoping.

Court was adjourned for lunch and the media scrum rushed for the phones to file their early reports and prepare their office for more of the same.

Michael checked his mobile phone for messages and found one to call his office. "Yes Chantelle?"

"Michael, the police have been going through the CCTV images from the previous night, and they have identified a vehicle leaving the scene at the time of the fire-bombing, and it belonged to a member of the Shining Light Christian Church. A white Caucasian male has been taken to the local police station and is 'assisting police with their inquiries'. Charges are expected to be laid later on today."

"Thank you Chantelle, this gives us some more ammunition to use against them." Michael decided that if the church wanted to play dirty he had two choices, to fight just as dirty, or to take the moral high ground and live in forgiveness. Dirty won for the time being, he could forgive later.

As he walked back into court he saw a reporter that he knew and called out to him. "Jerry, a word in your shell like ear." Jerry was suddenly all ears, something juicy was about to be revealed. "It would appear that the police are questioning someone about the torching of my offices. It would also appear that the person involved is a member of the Shining Light Christian Church. What do you think I should do about it?" In answer Jerry sprinted towards the door. With a satisfied smile on his face Michael walked back into court.

"Pastor Mayotte, what would you say would be the core of Jesus' teaching?"

"Obedience to God the Father." He didn't sound sure of the answer.

"No. The core of Jesus' teaching was about love, unconditional love. He said, did he not, that we were to love God with all our heart, soul and spirit, and love our neighbours as ourselves?"

"Yes, they are the Two Commandments of Jesus."

"Then why doesn't your church obey them?"

"We do."

"Really? Why is it then that my client has had to resort to this action to get his voice heard? Why is it then that instead of speaking to him to find out what his concerns are, you ostracize him in front of the whole church? Why is it that instead of holding out the hand of friendship and forgiveness to him, you have chosen to fight this in court? Where is the love in your actions?"

"It was his decision to take this to court!"

"As a course of last resort! It would not have come to this if you had shown love to my client. It would not have come to this if your church had been interested in him and his concerns, and had been prepared to discuss these issues with an open mind. But you decided that if he wasn't prepared to abide by your teachings, your rules, not God's rules, your rules, then that was his problem, and if he left your church the problem would leave with him. You decided that to prevent the revelation of your false teaching, your lies, you would kill the messenger who was about to reveal them!" Henderson lowered his voice. "Is that the way Jesus would have treated him?"

"We have to have rules, we have to set conditions."

"Did Jesus set conditions? When the Roman Centurion came to him to get healing for his servant, did Jesus say to him, 'Sorry I can't help you unless you become a Jew.'? When he met the Samaritan woman at the well and identified that she was living with a man who wasn't her husband, did he say to her, 'I'll only give you the waters of life if you leave that man and live a pure life?' And when he saved the woman from being stoned to death by telling her accusers, 'Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.' Actually this is an interesting one."

"If I may digress a little here, The common interpretation is that she was accused of adultery, that she was of loose morals, not to put too fine a point on it, she was a prostitute. This was not the case. Death by stoning was reserved for women who had sex before marriage. That is she has broken the marriage contract that stipulates that she be a virgin on her wedding day. I does not refer to a common prostitute. And when Jesus says to them 'let he who is without sin', this is a blanket reference to sin not to a specific sin." 

"As with the other examples, there was no condition place on his actions, he just told her to sin no more. If you were to read the teachings of Jesus you will see that the common thread is unconditional love. He placed no conditions on his love. He placed no conditions on his healing. He placed no conditions on his blessing. How does your church demonstrate love Pastor Mayotte?"

"We live the Word of God!"

"Do you really? Did God place conditions on His love?"

"Of course He did! In John 3:16 it tells us that 'God so loved the World that He gave His only begotten son the whosoever believes in him shall not perish, but find eternal life.' That tells us that the only way that we can get to Heaven is through Jesus Christ. What do you say to that?"

"What I say is; look at this passage in a different way, don't change the wording, or the punctuation, just the emphasis. 'God so loved the World that He gave His only son that whoever believes in Him, God the giver, not Jesus the gift, shall not perish but find eternal life.' By changing the emphasis, God's love is open to all not just a few. His unconditional love is open to all."

"We believe that His love is open only to those who believe in Jesus. We believe in the truth of the Bible and only teach that truth."

"And on what do you base this belief?"

"In John 14 Jesus said, 'I am the way and the truth and the life. No-one comes to the Father except through me.' We believe that and we teach that."

"But that is only part of that teaching. What Jesus was telling his disciples was that he was the living embodiment of God and if they knew him they would also know God, if they have faith in him they will also have faith in God, if they do as he did they will do even greater things. Then he makes the most significant statement of all, he tells them; 'If you love me you will do as I command. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Counsellor to be with you forever – the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you.' What he was telling them was, that after he left this earth his spirit, the spirit of truth, would remain, and it was this spirit that would guide them. And what did Jesus command us to do Pastor Mayotte? He commanded us to love God with all our heart, soul and spirit and to love our neighbour as ourselves. It was about unconditional love, inclusive love, and not the exclusive love that you teach, that you practice."

"I, we, live in obedience to the word of God and the Bible tells us that the only way that you can get to heaven is if you believe in the Lord Jesus Christ! How dare you tell me otherwise! I will not sit here and listen to your heresy!"

Bang! Judge Foley brought his gavel down with such force it was in danger of breaking. "I will not countenance such outbursts in this court. Pastor Mayotte you will control your emotions." His voice carried the threat of dire consequences.

Henderson had a half smile on his face, he was getting to Mayotte. "Jesus went on to say; 'Anyone who has my commands and obeys them, he is the one who loves me. He who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love him and show myself to him. . . . If anyone loves me, he will obey my teaching. My Father will love him and we will come to him and make our home with him. He who does not love me will not obey my teaching. These words you hear are not my own; they belong to the Father who sent me.' Pastor Mayotte, what that tells me is that if I live in obedience to his teaching God will love me. Do you live in obedience to his teaching?"

"Yes! I live in obedience to all his teachings." 

"Do you really? Before we move on to the next bit Pastor Mayotte, What is the first line of the Lord's Prayer?"

"Our Father, who art in Heaven." Mayotte had a puzzled look on his face, where was this going, and how could he get out of it?

"It say, 'Our Father' pastor Mayotte, not 'My Father', Jesus is telling us that we are all God's children! By saying this he is demonstrating that he is loving us as he would love himself. He is a child of God the same as us, and this is not the only time that he does this."

"You are of course aware of the Seven Woes in Matthew? I wonder if we looked at them closely whether you would be able to recognize you and your church in them? Now what is the first one?" He un-necessarily consulted his Bible, "'The teachers of the law and Pharisees sit in Moses' chair so you must obey them and do everything they tell you.' Sounds fair so far, doesn't it? Now comes the good bit; 'But do not do what they do, for they do not practice what they preach. They tie up heavy loads and put them on men's shoulders, but they themselves are not willing to lift a finger to move them.' Your church places the heavy load of obedience on the shoulders of its followers but do you bear that load yourself?"

"We do not ask them to do anything that we wouldn't do ourselves."

"How many people, in the life of your church, have fallen by the wayside because they have been unable to live up to the lofty ideals that you set for them? You would have no idea how many have been lost because a person who falls by the wayside is a loser and there is no place in your church for losers. So you have no conditions on membership? They, to become members, don't have to be baptized and come up out of the water speaking in tongues?"

"They are not 'born again' if they don't do it."

"Where do you find that in the Bible?"

"In John Chapter 3 is says, 'I tell you the truth, no-one can see the Kingdom of God unless he is born again.' and 'You should not be surprised at my saying, 'You must be born again.' I think that is clear, to see the Kingdom of God, to be one with God, you must be born again."

"That's all well and good, but it doesn't say that to be born again one has to be submerged in water and emerge speaking in tongues, does it? Surely that is nothing more than a public demonstration of a private decision to renounce your old ways and start a new life with Jesus?"

"What if it is? What is your problem with our people having the courage to tell the world that they are Christian, that they have forsaken their wicked ways and have begun a new life in God through Jesus?"

"Because in the context of that passage, by renouncing your old ways you begin a new life in God, a new life, you are born again. This has nothing whatever to do with being baptised by full emersion and emerging speaking in tongues. That is a symbolic gesture of compliance to your rules, and just doing that and ignoring the other teachings does not necessarily get you into heaven."

"My problem," Henderson continued, "is that churches like yours make me want to mumble 'Christian' when someone asks me my religion instead of holding my head up and proudly proclaiming my Christianity. My problem also is that you view that as a condition of acceptance by your church, you do not follow the teachings of Jesus by accepting your people without that condition. God's love is without condition, you are to love without condition, without the need for compliance to your rules for acceptance. That Pastor Mayotte is my problem. Your love is not unconditional, contrary to the teachings of Jesus, your Spiritual Leader."

"The next criticism of the church leaders is; 'Everything is done for men to see: They make their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their garments long; they love the place of honour at banquets and the most important seats in the synagogue; they love to be greeted in the market-places and to have men call them 'Rabbi'.' Pastor Mayotte, where do you sit in church?"

"In the front row."

"And the other occupants of the front row, they are all important people in the church?"

"Yes."

"So if I was to go to your church and take a seat in the front row, would you allow me to remain there?"

"No, those seats are reserved for Pastors and other important people."

"So I'm not important to you?"

"I didn't say that!"

"But I'm not as important as other people?"

"I didn't say that either!"

"But to be able to get a seat in the front row I would have to earn that honour by doing all of the right things over a qualifying period, is that not correct?"

"We can't have just anyone sitting in the front row."

"So there are conditions that go with that honour?"

"Yes." The trap had slammed shut.

"So to be honoured by your church I would have to earn that position, presumably by proving myself somehow more worthy of that position than the previous incumbent? Where is your unconditional love? What would the person that I displaced think about your loyalty to him? How do you think he would feel if he walked along the front row looking for his seat, only to find his name not there? Where is Jesus Christ in that?" Mayotte was about to answer but thought better of it.

"Pastor Mayotte, at the beginning of this trial I was calling you Mister Mayotte but you insisted on being addressed as 'Pastor', isn't that the same as loving to be greeted in the market place as 'Rabbi'?"

"What is wrong with being shown respect?"

"What's wrong with it? The very next line should tell you what is wrong; 'But you are not to be called 'Rabbi' for you have only one Master and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on Earth 'father' for you have one Father, and he is in Heaven. Nor are you to be called 'teacher', for you have one Teacher, the Christ. The greatest among you will be your servant. For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.' Don't you exalt yourself by insisting that you be addressed as 'Pastor'? And you are obedient to Scripture? I think not. What do you think Jesus meant by this?"

"So you think that you are better than me because you don't call yourself by your earned title, whatever that is. I serve God and Jesus, what more would you have me do?"

"I am not the person on trial here. For your information, I could insist on you calling me by my earned title which is Doctor, you see, apart from my Law degree, I have a post graduate doctorate in Theology." Mayotte and Johansson were both shocked by this revelation, they now knew the source of his knowledge of the Bible. "As to the 'what more' we'll get to that shortly. "Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You shut the kingdom of heaven in men's faces. You yourselves do not enter, nor will you let those enter who are trying to. What do you think that means?"

"I don't know! We at the Shining Light Christian Church are trying to open the kingdom of heaven for all."

"What by stifling the desire among your followers to learn? By making it difficult for anyone who has a dissenting opinion over what has been taught to have a free and open discussion about it with you? By telling everyone that what is preached at your church is the true word and should not be challenged? You do not practice what you preach but if someone was to suggest that to you, that suggestion is rejected. Shall we continue?"

"If you must."

"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You travel over land and sea to win a single convert, and when he becomes one, you make him twice as much a son of hell as you are. What does that mean for you?"

"I don't really know. Could it mean that more effort is used attracting someone to the church that retaining them?"

"Not really, at least I don't think so. My interpretation of this passage is that a new recruit to a church will be so fired up with enthusiasm that he will, believing that this is what is expected of him, become so much more rigid in his obedience to the rules and ideology of that church that he will fall into sin over it. Sort of like the new recruits to Pentecostalism who go around saying 'Praise the Lord' and 'Hallelujah!' in every second sentence so that the world at large will know that they are 'born again', yet they show a lack of love by insisting that you are not as good as they are and to be 'Spirit filled' you have to be like them. No thanks."

"Moving on to the next one. 'Woe to you blind guides! You say, 'If anyone swears by the temple, it means nothing; but if anyone swears by the gold of the temple, he is bound by his oath,' You blind fools! Which is greater; the gold, or the temple that makes the gold sacred? You also say, 'if anyone swears by the altar, it means nothing; but if anyone swears by the gift on it, he is bound by his oath.' You blind men! Which is greater; the gift, or the altar that makes the gift sacred? Therefore, he who swears by the altar swears by it and everything on it. And he who swears by the temple swears by it and by the one who dwells in it. And he who swears by heaven swears by God's throne and by the one who sits on it.' What are we to take from that Scripture?"

"I haven't given it a great deal of thought, perhaps you can enlighten me."

"If you so wish. In my opinion, and I'm not saying this is right, just that what this is saying to me, is that the temple and the altar represent the spiritual side of man, while the gold and the altar gifts represent the physical side, and the Pharisees were placing more importance on the physical over the spiritual, but regardless of that, an oath whether sworn in the physical or the spiritual, is an oath to be obeyed. A promise made in the physical or spiritual is a promise that should be honoured. Does that sound fair enough to you, Pastor Mayotte?"

"I guess so." Mayotte held his breath waiting for Henderson to pounce on his agreement about promises but Henderson let it slide. Mayotte was left wondering how long it would be before Henderson picked up on his opportunity to score points. That Henderson let it slide was a deliberate ploy to distract.

"Shall we move on to the next one? 'Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices - mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law - justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former. You blind guides! You strain at a gnat but swallow the camel.' Enlighten me Pastor Mayotte, what does this mean?"

"That churches pay more attention to the little things in life at the expense of the bigger?"

"It's another way that Jesus said that the church was concentrating on the little things and losing sight of their real purpose. By nit picking on the little things of life they are losing sight of the big picture. They put doing church before doing God. The show called church must go on. It's another example of the importance of appearance; look at me I tithe religiously, aren't I wonderful! But you have neglected your duty to the people within and without your church. How much time do you or your church spend looking after the homeless, the sick, the alcoholics and drug addicts, those who are marginalized by today's greedy, avaricious and acquisitive society? Do you spend as much time with these people as you do with rehearsals for the warm-up concert, or worrying about your tithing? Have you not lost sight of the big picture here, the bigger issues that surround you?"




Promises Pt. 02



"It's easy for you to be critical, I bet you don't do all that much for these people."

"Again, Pastor Mayotte, it is not me who is on trial here, but if you must know more about what I do for the less fortunate then I suggest you ask someone who knows. I am not going to shout it to the roof tops. In Matthew it tells us that we shouldn't draw attention to our 'good deeds' such as the attention that you draw to your missionary deeds. If you are interested, contact my secretary and she will provide you with a list of what I do for these people. Now we move on to the next one. 'Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self indulgence. Blind Pharisees! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean.' That must hit close to home, mustn't it Pastor Mayotte?"

"Are you suggesting that I and my church are in some way corrupt?"

"Far be it for me, Pastor Mayotte, to suggest that you, or your church, are in any way corrupt. Heaven forefend that I should suggest that you or your church would in any way be greedy, self-indulgent and egoistic. Far be it for me to suggest that to you, and your organization, the appearance is more important than the fact, that spin is more important than substance, that you would be willing to compromise your faith to ensure that you maintain the right appearance. But the basic ideology of Pentecostalism seems to me to be just that, greed and self indulgence, the quest for wealth and power with little regard for the damage done in the process is fine as long as it looks good in the end. To paraphrase Gordon Gecko in the film 'Wall Street', 'Greed is God'! Clean the inside. 'Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You are like whitewashed tombs, which look beautiful on the outside but on the inside, are full of dead men's bones and everything unclean. In the same way, on the outside you appear to people as righteous but on the inside you are full of hypocrisy and wickedness.' Doesn't seem fair does it, Pastor Mayotte, that Jesus is having another bash at the teachers and Pharisees for paying more attention to the outward show of piety, does it?"

"We are a church of God! We obey the 'Word of God'! We obey the teachings of Jesus! How dare you come in here and suggest that we are in any way disobedient to God and our Lord Jesus Christ!"

"It would appear timely that I should remind you that it was Adolph Hitler who once said something like, 'A lie told often enough will be accepted as the truth.'? Now before you accuse me of calling you a liar, or a Nazi, I am not, although I believe that you have a very tenuous grasp of the truth, but having accepted the false teaching and told yourself often enough that it must be right, you are perpetuating an ideological falsehood."

"One more 'woe' to go, 'Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You build tombs for the prophets and desecrate the graves of the righteous. And you say, 'If we had lived in the days of our forefathers, we would not have taken part with them in shedding the blood of the prophets.' So you testify that you are descendants of those who murdered the prophets. Fill up, then, the measure of the sin of your forefathers! You snakes! You brood of vipers! How will you escape being condemned to hell? Therefore I am sending you prophets and wise men and teachers. Some of them you will kill and crucify; others you will flog in your synagogues and pursue them from town to town. And so upon you will come all the righteous blood that has been shed on earth, from the blood of righteous Abel to the blood of Zechariah son of Barakiah, whom you murdered between the temple and the altar. I tell the truth, all this will come upon this generation.' You say that you wouldn't have joined with your ancestors in killing the prophets of the past, yet when someone speaks a righteous word that you do not agree with, you will persecute him in the temple, you will attempt to endanger his livelihood. In doing these things you will join your ancestors who you have condemned."

"Jesus condemned the church of his time for doing the very things that your church does. Everything that is done in a Pentecostal church is about appearance, it doesn't matter to you that what you do doesn't agree with Scripture, as long as it looks good. You speak in tongues. Not Scriptural, but it looks good. You require your people to be baptized by full immersion and emerge speaking in tongues, not Scriptural but it looks good. Your buildings are spectacular, your sound and lighting systems are state of the art, the money used to buy these things should have been used to do God's work, not Scriptural but it looks good. Even down to the 'concert' at the start of your meeting, that is all part of the show called church. Your church is pitched to the 'unchurched', those with no experience of the spiritual event that Paul encouraged in Corinth, an orderly church. To attract their attention you have to entertain them, forget about the fact that there is little scriptural relevance or validity to what you are doing, the 'God Show' you call church is nothing more than an entertainment, a spectacular event to make people feel good about themselves. Entertain the individual, boost the ego of the individual and then bleed the individual."

"If you were to look honestly at your church and compare it with the 'woes' mentioned in Matthew 23, you will see that you are doing just about everything that Jesus was critical of. That being the case, how can you call yourselves a Christian denomination when you are disobeying the very person you claim to obey?"

"The reason that Jesus died was not that he claimed to be the Son of God, or that he claimed to be the Messiah, there were others making that particular claim at the time. It was because he was critical of the church and its leaders. For that reason he was crucified, as a heretic, and you and your church are doing the very same thing that the church did in Jesus' time, if someone challenges you in any way they are convicted of heresy, they, if they are from your church, are ostracized, cast out, to you they are dead, in much the same way that Jesus was dead to the church of his time."

"The whole ideology of your church is not about altruism, as Jesus taught, but about egoism. It is not inclusive as Jesus taught but exclusive, you set yourselves apart from the rest of the world, from the rest of Christianity, by claiming that your fundamental ideals are the only ones to find favour with God. It is not about unconditional love as Jesus taught, no, if you were true to yourself you would see that it was about obedience to the rules of man, rules that you seem to make up as you go along just as the church leaders did in the time of the Prophet Jeremiah. And if anyone reveals to you the perfidy of your false teachings, instead of heeding that revelation and accepting it, you would kill, metaphorically speaking, the messenger, as those of old killed the Prophets who were doing the same thing."

"You would do well to look at the book of Jeremiah and compare it with your church. Here was a prophet of God who dared to tell the people of Judea that they had chosen false Gods, in your case the God of greed for money and power. Their leaders had shown themselves to be false, their laws were not the laws of God as they claimed, but their own. In your case you have chosen to teach a false doctrine. They had become corrupt, in your case you use deceptive methods to get people to give you money. They had indulged in apostasy, in your case you have abandoned the teachings of Jesus on unconditional love, justice and mercy, and inclusion, for one of conditional obedience to your rules, injustice, egoism, xenophobia and exclusion. That they had succumbed to self-deception, in your case you continue to believe that you are in obedience to the word of God when in fact you are not, you are in obedience to a distorted, mis-interpreted and false ideology. And what happened to Jeremiah? He was imprisoned for his troubles, and you Pastor Mayotte would do the same thing rather than face the truth of your wrongdoing."

Henderson turned to Judge Foley. "If it please your Honour, I request that we should adjourn at this juncture and continue this line of question in the morning. Tomorrow we will explore that false Pentecostal ideology in greater detail."

"I agree. Court is adjourned."

The court cleared in three distinct waves. The first to leave were the media, with deadlines to meet, copy to write, the print media almost ran for the exit. The television media were a little more sedate, there were lines to learn, makeup to apply, locations to find. The public gallery cleared in a much more sedate manner, its members deep in conversation. Some shook their heads in disbelief at the way that Henderson had hammered Mayotte all day, not letting go for one moment, giving him no chance to defend himself.

The third wave was the protagonists. On one side a level of confidence was evident by the animated way that Frank, Joan and Michael discussed the day's proceedings and the strategy for the next day. The other team was in a much more sombre mood, realizing that answers to the barrage of questions, the constant criticism, were few and far between and that Mayotte needed coaching, fast. Johansson, Mayotte and Janine left to face the media barrage that they knew was waiting for them. 

"Pastor Mayotte, do you feel confident now that you will win?"

"I have God on my side, of course I will win! It will be a long and hard fight and battles may be lost along the way but God will triumph!"

"By God you mean you?"

"Don't doubt it for one minute!"

"What are your views on the criticism of Pentecostal ideology?"

"My opponent has only a superficial knowledge of the workings of God, what would you expect from an Atheist?"

"He was highly critical of your church in particular and the Pentecostal church as a whole, you don't think that there may be some truth in what he has said?"

"There is only one truth and that is the truth of God. God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit. The word of God defines these truths and is in itself the truth! For any person, man, to question God and His Holy Word is to commit heresy on a huge scale, and the perpetrator will forever burn in the fiery furnaces of Hell!"

"So you are rejecting all of his assertions?"

"His assertions are those of a man who doesn't know God and, unless he gets to know God, and acknowledges Jesus Christ as his Saviour, he will not experience God's mercy and not find everlasting life." Mayotte had lost sight of the fact that this statement was exactly the stance that Henderson was critical of.

They eventually extricated themselves from the media scrum and headed for the Shining Light Christian Church for a review of the day's events. On the fringe of the scrum Frank and Michael observed Mayotte's media interview. "Do you know he almost started to make up lost ground until the showman took over. To brand me an Atheist just because I question his ideology was going a little far. Actually I don't mind it when he calls me an Atheist, in fact if he is an example of a good Christian then 'Atheist' is a badge I would wear with pride."

"But you're not one. You're a Christian and we should show a little charity towards him."

"We will. We'll toss him a life belt just before he goes down for the third time, but he must be made to suffer for the damage he has done to Christians and Christianity."

Mayotte had some good news waiting for him at the church. He had been looking forward to some relief with Janine but that would have to wait. "Pastor Mayotte, I'd like you to meet Pastor Calvin Coolidge Jones, the Senior Pastor at the Shining Light Centre and Religious Retreat in Georgia. Pastor Jones, this is our Senior Pastor Matthew Mayotte."

Jones thrust out his hand and grabbed Mayotte's tentatively proffered hand and shook it violently. "Pleased to meet you at long last Brother! I've heard some good things about the work that you've been doin' here and I came to thank ya for it. Brother Fenton here has brought me up to speed on how you all have been having a spot of bother lately. Well son, CC Jones is here ta help, and if'n we all can light a firecracker under a few tails, then we just might save the day for y'all. Now tell me all about it, from the beginning."

Mayotte began at the beginning as he knew it and when he got to the bit about the amount that the church was being sued for it drew a loud response from their guest. "Hooeee! That's a hell of a lot of green! You must have riled him something fierce. What is he suing you for?"

"He is claiming that we promised him that if he paid his tithing diligently his finances would increase seven fold. He has taken the amount that he claims to have paid us and multiplied it by the power of seven."

"Where did he get that idea from?"

"From us."

"And where in hell did you get that idea?"

"From you. I was in the States about ten years ago and went to a meeting at your church and heard you say it."

"It sounded good so you thought you'd use it, that right?"

"That's right, shouldn't I have?"

"Hell boy we were saying a lot of things back then that weren't exactly true!"

"How untrue was that?"

"You mean about finances increasing seven fold? Well at a stretch we could say it was meant to be true. If you take that passage from Malachi, about God's blessing pouring through the floodgates that is so dear to my heart, and combine that with seven being a great number in the scheme of things, and bingo! You have a seven-fold increase. I gotta admit it's a stretch, but like a lot of things it sounded good, like counting the number of times 'tongue' or 'tongues' appeared in the concordance and using that as a justifying statistic. It weren't true but it sounded great!"

"So where does that leave me? This guy Henderson has obviously done his homework and he's got me jumping in all directions trying to justify our position and our ideology. How can I justify something that isn't true?"

"Hell, boy! The best defence is attack! Attack him in court! Question his questions, question his right to ask the questions and attack his interpretations of Scripture! The Bible was the truth, is the truth and always will be the truth, that's your line. You just keep saying that and eventually he'll give up. If that doesn't work we have to find a fallback position."

"Such as?"

"We have ta find his weakness, a vulnerability that we exploit the hell outa. Find out why he's so hell-fired out to get ya, he must have a motive, it can't just be the money, although he is a lawyer so I guess it could be. Find out if he's humping some woman he ain't meant to be, or better still some man. If we can't find one, we'll give him one, we'll send someone to see him who he can't resist, and all we have to do is walk in and catch him at it, simple and sweet. If that don't work then we attack those around him and then he'll see eye to eye and come begging for mercy."

"I hope you're right."

"Worked just fine for me in the past. Now where can we find a suitable young lady I wonder? How about your young lady P.A. here", Indicating Janine, "do you think she'd do it?"

"I wouldn't ask her."

"Really? Looking at her, and you, I bet it wouldn't be the first time she did something for you above and beyond the call etc. What do you say Honey, would you do that for your Boss?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know! If you don't you'll be out of a job, you'll all be out of a job!"

"I couldn't ask her to do this!" Shouted Mayotte.

"Shut up! I'm not asking you. What do you say Honey?"

"I suppose, if I really have to."

"You really have to. Now I'm going to my hotel and have me some room service and a think about your problem. By the morning I should have a clearer picture of what we are up against. And I want something on the opposition, if you get my drift." He picked up his attaché case and walked purposefully from the room leaving behind him a state of confusion. If what he had just told them was true they really didn't have a leg to stand on.

Soon the only two people in Mayotte's office were Mayotte and Janine. She was just about to assume her usual position in this situation when he lifted her to her feet and embraced her. "Janine, Darling, I can't let you do this for me, I have too much respect for you to let you do it."

"But you know that I'd do anything for you, even this."

Her voice trailed off and she buried her head on his chest, tears leaking from her eyes.

"It won't come to this. It will be very much the last resort."

"Before I came here, when I was, you know, selling my body, I wouldn't think twice about doing this, and I know that I owe you so much because without you, your kindness towards me, I would still be doing it. But since I came here I have seen a new way of life, I feel at home here, I feel wanted here, I feel loved here, I feel your love here and I love you in return. I know that nothing will ever come of my love for you because of Cynthia, but you have my word for it, my love is only for you, and because of that, if you ask me to offer myself to another man to save your life here, I will willingly do it."

Mayotte held her to him and they kissed. They did more than kiss and it wasn't the first time that their relationship had progressed beyond kissing and oral sex.

It was around 7:30pm when Mayotte arrived home to be met by Cynthia and a cold shoulder. "What has kept you so long?"

"The meeting has only just finished, I came home as soon as I could."

"Don't lie to me! The meeting finished nearly an hour ago!" She didn't tell him that the reason that she knew that it had finished some time ago was that Fenton had called in on his way home. He had mentioned that Mayotte was closeted in his office praying. What he hadn't said, but the tone of his voice carried the message, was that there was a flexible interpretation to be placed on 'praying', Cynthia got his meaning.

"If I was to hazard a guess I would say that you have been with your, how would you describe her, your harlot? Your lover? Your concubine?"

"What do you mean?"

"Don't come the innocent with me! I know that you've been having sex with Janine! Don't worry I won't make a big deal of it, right now," there was a menace in her voice that Mayotte had never experienced, "but if you don't stop it immediately I will tell the world all about it! Then see how long your precious church will last!"

They ate their dinner in stony silence. After dinner they sat and watched a couple of forgettable programs on television, in stony silence, before the late news came on. "I'm going to bed." Cynthia announced and from the tone of her voice it was obvious, even to Matthew, that she was not willing to share her bed with him.

The late news covered the trial in a sensationalized, and not very flattering for him, manner. It was obvious from the attitude of the reporter, the presenter and the commentators that they were all enjoying his discomfort. He couldn't decide whether they were genuinely hoping that he would fall, or that it was the famous 'tall poppy syndrome' rearing its ugly Australian head.

Mayotte managed to get some sleep despite the discomfort of the sofa and despite the thought of having to give up either Janine or Cynthia. It was a decision that he was not looking forward to having to make.

Frank, Joan and Michael had a much more pleasant evening, dinner at a fine restaurant, where they were able to talk quietly about the happenings of the day just past without being disturbed. They had the Maitre 'D' to thank for that. He recognized the names on the reservation and allocated them to a private room. As they were leaving at 11:00pm he waved the proffered credit card away. "This evening is on the house, the owner and myself look on it as our contribution to your cause, a token of respect for what you are doing."




Promises Pt. 03



Chapter 7

Trial Day 5

Your ideology is not how you can use your church to serve God, but how you can use God to serve your church.

Janine emerged from the bedroom, bleary eyed and still half asleep to be greeted by freshly brewed coffee, toast and a choice of cereals. "Hmmm, this is nice. Thank you for last night, I just needed company, I'd almost forgotten what company without any sexual involvement was like, it was nice."

"It's I who should thank you, I'd forgotten what it is like to be close to someone like you and not feel that I have to perform, not that the thought didn't cross my mind for a second or several."

"And you did nothing about it, what strength. That's more than I can say for some people."

"Such as?"

"Pastor Fenton. When he found out about Matthew and my relationship he wanted the same attention from me. I wouldn't do it and he's not happy about that, but then he's besotted with Cynthia Mayotte so he's not game to push the issue in case I tell Matthew about his feelings for Cynthia. This leads me to another question, why are you being so nice to me, after all I am on the other side."

"That doesn't give me a reason not to be nice to you."

"You're not married are you?"

"I was, but that ended some time ago, not very well as it turned out."

"What went wrong, if you don't mind me asking?"

"That's okay, I can talk about it now. We had different spiritual beliefs, at least I didn't think we did but she was convinced of it. Hers were supposedly stronger than mine and she saw my lack of strength as a weakness in me. I, on the other hand, felt that she was being manipulated by her church and felt powerless to change that."

"That experience doesn't have anything to do with why you are so hard on Matthew would it?

"Don't let anyone try to convince you that you are a dumb blonde. You are pretty astute, as well as just plain pretty."

"If I didn't know better I would say that you were hitting on me."

"If you were available I would be, but you aren't and I won't do anything to jeopardize your future."

Janine looked at him with a sad, far-off look in her eyes, "What future?" She whispered.

*

The person seated in the vehicle a hundred meters from Henderson's house woke with a start. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Janine's car still parked outside the house and Henderson's still in the driveway. They hadn't left yet. His thoughts were racing; did she spend the night with him? If so did they make love? What did they talk about and how much had she told him?

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Henderson's front door open and Janine emerge. She walked briskly to her car and, as she unlocked it, her hand was raised slightly and an almost imperceptible finger wave was directed towards the man watching through the slightly parted curtains.

Paranoia set in; a traitor in the ranks. Could she ever be trusted again? A quick photograph, taken with a telephoto lens, for evidence, along with a general photograph of Henderson's house, and the driver left.

He stopped around the corner and was on his mobile phone. "I've got some good news, complete with photos. Janine spent the night with Henderson, and she was very friendly, if you get my drift, when she left. I'll get the photos to you ASAP."

Fenton smiled as the call ended. "Got you, you sanctimonious bastard." He said out loud to himself. 

*

7:00am and the Shining Light Christian Church was a hive of activity. "We have a problem." Mayotte said.

"What sort of a problem?" CC Jones was leaning back in his chair drinking a paper cup of coffee that he had bought on the way from his hotel.

"My wife, Cynthia, somehow found out that Janine and I were, how can I put this, more than just friends."

"Ah knew it! I could tell just by looking at the two of you yesterday that you've been humpin' her. Hell man, don't worry about it! You ain't the first preacher man who let his pecker get him into trouble and we all survived."

"But I bet they weren't in the middle of a court case like this when it was discovered."

"You'd probably win that bet. Don't worry about a thing Buddy Boy, that's why CC Jones is here, to paper over the cracks."

There was a steady stream of people coming and going from the church, some stopped to wish Mayotte well, but the majority of them went into the auditorium where the prayer vigil was in full swing. The 'prayer warriors' were in full cry and the auditorium echoed to the loud sound of 'tongues' and the responses from the small but vocal crowd of 'Awesome prayer Brother!' and 'Praise the Lord!'

Meanwhile in Michael's temporary office he had some interesting news. "You know that young lady that the owner of the restaurant mentioned last night, well, as we already know she is his Personal Assistant, and that's not all, she has a past! Before she started work at the Shining Light Christian Church she was 'on the game'. She worked as a stripper and table top dancer at a popular male 'restaurant' and, it seems as if Mayotte was a regular, and it also seems that she provided extra services for him!"

"What? How did you find all this out?"

"I asked Bill to check her out and he had already recognized her from the TV news. He also frequents those types of establishments, and as soon as I asked him to check her out he told me all. Apart from that, she told me."

"Wow! Yesterday when you were going through all the 'Woes' you seemed to emphasize the word 'hypocrite' more than necessary. Are you psychic or what?"

"Down boy. This sort of information has to be used with discretion, if we use it at the wrong time it could blow up in our faces. We also have something of a problem involving her, Janine was sent to my place to seduce me so that we could be caught at it and blackmailed into backing off."

"What? What happened?"

"The troops arrived to find Janine and me fully clothed and having a pleasant cup of coffee. I sent them crawling back to CC Jones with the message that we're not that stupid. Janine did however spend the rest of the night with me, and before you ask, we did not make love, but we did have an interesting conversation."

The media was full of the news that a person had been held over the firebombing of Henderson's office and particular emphasis was placed on the allegations that the person was connected with the Shining Light Christian Church. 

Mayotte was smuggled into the court house through a rear entrance and avoided the inevitable confrontation with the media. His lawyer issued a statement to the effect that Pastor Mayotte decried the use of violence in any form and expressed the view that he could not be held responsible for his followers taking the law into their own hands in order to protect him from the unjust accusations before the court.

Henderson, in his confrontation with the media, stated that he could understand the level of support for his opponent and that this could lead to irrational acts, but the law is there to protect lives and property, and the law must be prosecuted fully or anarchy would prevail.

"Where were you this morning?" A concerned Mayotte asked Janine as she sat in her usual seat behind him. 

"I slept in and didn't have enough time to get to the church before you would have left so I came straight here."

"But those people who went to Henderson's place to close the trap told us that you were there with him having coffee as if you were the best of friends. Tell me that wasn't so."

"It was so. Henderson is a lot smarter than you give him credit for, he saw right through the plan straight away. We were just discussing the case and what was likely to happen, that's all."

The court was called to order and Mayotte took the stand again, but this time he was thinking not about the trial, but about Janine and Henderson. Could he trust her not to betray them. His attention was abruptly brought back to the matter at hand.

"Pastor Mayotte, yesterday we explored the way that Jesus criticized the church of his time and the apparent close parallels between that church and yours. We touched briefly on the problems that Jeremiah faced when he stood up to the leaders of his time. Today we will examine Pentecostal ideology. What is the basis of that ideology?"

"To preach the word of God and spread the great news of Jesus Christ to the unchurched."

"I think not! The ideology is to use the Christian faith as a method of making a great deal of money for your church. Your ideology is not how you can use your church to serve God, but how you can use God to serve your church."

"How dare you! How dare you make such an evil accusation! I am not here to be constantly abused by your criticism of my faith, my obedience to God and Jesus Christ! I am here to do His work! Not be subjected to your abuse!"

Henderson was taken aback by the vehemence of his outburst. Someone was behind this, he looked around the courtroom and caught sight of CC Jones seated a couple of rows back with a self-satisfied look on his face. So the big guns had been coaching their man, let the battle be joined. Henderson quickly scribbled a note for Bill to check up on CC Jones, "Pastor Mayotte, you claim that your ideology, your raison d'être, is to do the work of God, do you not?"

"Didn't I just say that?"

"Yes you did, I just wanted to hear you say it again because it will be the last time it will be believed. Tell me Pastor Mayotte, you insist on your followers paying a tithe, is this not true?"

"Of course! It is Scriptural, therefore we insist on it."

"I think that it is time for another lesson in Theology, Pastor Mayotte. Now you claim that the precedent was set way back in the time of Abraham when he gave a tenth of the spoils of war to the priest king Melchizedek, is that not correct?'

"Yes."

"Now this mysterious king doesn't make another appearance until the New Testament, in Hebrews. Why, if he was so important, would you think that is the case?"

"I don't know."

"Let me enlighten you, Pastor Mayotte. Melchizedek was a priest king, and one that Abraham, the patriarch of the Jewish, Christian and Muslim churches, looked up to. He was positioned at a higher order than Abraham because he had no father or mother, no genealogy, and would remain a priest for all days like the son of God, or so we are told in Hebrews. He was above Abraham who was the patriarch of the physical order of Israel. And there was a good reason for this, and that was the Levites, the priestly tribe of the Old Testament, and descendants of Abraham, were there to administer to the physical needs of the children of Israel. They were in charge of the temple where sacrifices were made for the physical benefit of the people, they collected a tithe, not of money, but of the fruits of their labour, from the children of Israel that allowed them to care for the widows and orphans, the lame and infirm, those that couldn't look after themselves."

"So, when Abraham gave to Melchizedek he was giving directly to the spiritual God and for God, not to the physical church of God, for the church of God."

"Now we come to Jesus, the Messiah, the spiritual Messiah, come to care for our spiritual needs. He is likened in Hebrews to Melchizedek because of his status as a priest of a higher order than the Levites. If Jesus, our spiritual leader, is here to minister to our spiritual needs, we no longer need to collect a tithe to care for the physical, because that is being administered by the authorities."

"This spiritual, not physical aspect of our relationship with God is further emphasized in Hebrews where we are told that the old laws, the old covenant, failed because the children of Israel did not remain faithful to it. Because of this God proposed a new covenant that will be an internal one with each of us, not an all encompassing external covenant. We are told; 'This is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel after that time, declares the Lord. I will put my laws in their minds and write them on their hearts. I will be their God, and they will be my people. No longer will a man teach his neighbour, or a man his brother, saying, 'Know the Lord,' because they will all know me, from the least of them to the greatest. For I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more.' What we are being told here is that the church was disobedient so God had now decided to do away with the church and that the relationship between himself and us was to be a personal rather than an institutional one."

"Similarly he tells us that the rituals of the church had little effect on us as individuals, 'This is an illustration for the present time, indicating that the gifts and sacrifices being offered were not able to clear the consciences of the worshipper. They are only a matter of food and drink and various ceremonial washings - external regulations applying until the time of the new order.' They were external shows that had little effect on cleansing the heart and soul of the individual. The liturgy of the church is, according to this Scripture and you are obedient to all Scripture, is redundant, un-necessary, an entertainment with no spiritual benefit. The cleansing of the heart and soul of Christians is through Jesus not the church. According to this Scripture Pastor Mayotte, you are out of a job, you are not needed by God to talk to us, or by us to talk to God."

"The role of the church in society has changed. It no longer has the primary responsibility of caring for the widows and orphans, the lame and infirm, that role has fallen to the government, the authorities put in place by God according to Paul's letter to the Romans, and they collect the tithe in the form of taxes that enable them to administer that role. So the reason that the tithe was collected in the Old Testament no longer exists in the life of the church." 

"That is not to say that the church doesn't have a role in that area, it does, or at least it should, because that is a demonstration of the unconditional love that Jesus asks us to show, but what it does mean is that there is no scriptural validity, for the continued use by the church, of citing Old Testament Scripture on tithing to justify the collection of money, unless of course that social welfare agenda exists as a primary motivation in the life of the church."

"Much more appropriate would be for the church to take up a collection on the basis of monies needed to administer the church and its works, and to set out, so that everyone understands its purpose, what those works are and how much money goes to them. Transparency in all things is what is necessary, so that the church doesn't find itself in a situation similar to the one that we find ourselves in now. For a church to do otherwise, to insist that it has the right given by God to collect a tithe is nothing more or less than a deception against God and a deception against the people of God."

"Now back to the matter in hand. What about those among your followers who struggle to meet that commitment, do you allow them to pay less?"

"No, the endurance of hardship only strengthens their love of God."

"Of course you, in your luxurious house, and your above average salary would know all about hardship, wouldn't you? Do you tithe Pastor Mayotte?"

"Of course."

"What percentage of your available income do you spend on life's luxuries like food, for instance?"

"What are you getting at?"

"I would like you to consider an example. A person whose only source of income is Welfare payments and who is living in rental accommodation has an excess on his disposable income of about ten dollars per week. His tithing is calculated at twenty five dollars per week. If he paid a tithe, as you request, he has a negative disposable income. Do you think that is fair?"

"We all have to make sacrifices."

"But some have to sacrifice more than others eh? And you are totally obedient to the tithe laws?"

"Yes, it is God's law and I obey God's law."

"Even if you were told that you don't have to?"

"By whom?"

"Well Paul tells us that, as we aren't Jews we are not bound by Judaic law."

"Where does he say that?"

"You obviously haven't read, or at least absorbed, Paul's letter to the Galatians. But then the Pentecostal Church would not highlight any Scripture that doesn't agree with their selective ideology, their instant coffee theology. What would you say if I were to tell you that several times in the Bible we are told that if a person could not afford to pay the full tithe they should pay what they could afford?"

"I know of no such Scripture."

"Of course not! The Pentecostal movement, while espousing strict Scriptural adherence, is guilty of very selective adherence indeed, they totally ignore any Scripture that doesn't agree with their ideology. Pastor Mayotte, as an example of your strict adherence to the tithe laws can you produce figures, can you produce your church accounts, that can demonstrate to this court that ninety percent of the money you receive in tithes goes to the welfare of the widows and orphans, the lame and infirm, the homeless and deprived of our society?"

"No. Our money is spent in the service of God! We are good stewards of his finances. Not one cent of His money is spent on personal gain! How dare you question the Shining Light Christian Church's handling of the finances given to us to do God's work!"

"But according to the Scriptures that you hold so dear to your heart, only ten percent of the monies collected is supposed to go towards the running of the church. No, I am not critical of the money that you use to do God's work, because there isn't anything to be critical about."

"Almost all of the money given to your church is spent on the pursuit of power and wealth, the maintenance of your luxurious lifestyle, the glorification of greed. It is used for the continued pursuit of the latest technology so that you can entice more poor flies into the spider web of your greed. Would it surprise you to know that one of the most influential organizations in your part of the small 'c' christian world, which has an annual income of around $170,000,000, spends some 60% on the maintenance of infrastructure, keeps some 33% as net profit, yet only spends around 3% on caring for the less fortunate in its sphere of influence. That hardly seems fair, does it Pastor Mayotte." Henderson didn't wait for an answer.

"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices - mint, dill and cummin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law - justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former. You blind guides! You strain at a gnat but swallow the camel.' Pastor Mayotte, I put it to you that you do not obey the tithe laws, your church has no social welfare agenda, no commitment to help the helpless, clothe the poor, to provide housing for the homeless. You are disobeying the God of the Christian in favour of obedience to the God of the world, greed."

"That is not true! Some of our members are involved in the School Breakfast Program, some help out in a Soup Kitchen."

"Your members volunteer their time, big deal! It costs your church nothing! Not one red cent of your church's massive income is spent on these initiatives! Your church, as an organization, has no formal social welfare agenda, does it Pastor Mayotte?"

"No."

"Tell me Pastor Mayotte, the suit that you are wearing, how much did it cost you?"

"I'm not sure exactly, around five hundred dollars I think."

"Was that wholesale or retail?"

"Wholesale." Mayotte mumbled indistinctly.

"You bought your suit wholesale for five hundred dollars or thereabouts." Henderson spoke with a clarity that made Mayotte squirm in his seat. "Now if the retail mark-up is around one hundred percent, let's see, Pastor Mayotte your suit cost more than a week's wages for many of your followers, those on welfare get around a quarter of that, and you feel that you are not ripping them off! Get real! And when you bought that suit, and the many others that you own, did you factor your saving into your tithe?"




Promises Pt. 03



"No."

"Congratulations Pastor Mayotte, you have just stolen from God! When you appear as a guest 'Awesome man of God' at another church and they take up a 'love offering' for you, do you factor that money into your tithe?"

"No."

"Congratulations again! You have once more stolen from God."

"The value of the meals provided by your church for you and any guests that you have, that would have cost you and your church a lot of money, do you factor the value of those meals into your tithe?"

"No."

"Congratulations once again! You have once more stolen from God. Now, Pastor Mayotte, your church doesn't pay local government or state taxes because it is a church, isn't that true?"

"Yes."

"And that saves you a considerable amount of money that could have been spent helping the needy, doing the work of God, but where did it go, to the maintenance of your 'blessed by God' façade, isn't that true, Pastor Mayotte?"

"Yes."

"So you are stealing from the taxpayer, monies that could be used for social welfare programs to help the needy that you should have been helping if you were truly doing the work of God. And you don't see anything wrong with this, Pastor Mayotte?"

Silence.

"There is one other thing, the land that your church sits on, is it owned by the church?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's a simple enough question, is it owned by the church, or does the church lease the land and its buildings from a private company? And is that company solely owned by you?"

"It is owned by me, but that is a purely financial arrangement."

"So you don't profit from this at all?"

"The monies received go towards repaying the mortgage."

"And while your company owns the buildings, any maintenance, any improvements, modifications and development of the site, are paid for by your church, is this not correct?"

"Yes."

"I'm sure that you had no ulterior motive to enter into this financial arrangement, like, if you should lose this case and have to pay damages to my client, your church will immediately declare itself bankrupt, but, because it doesn't own the land or buildings, it can start another church the following week under a new name, and with the same personnel and same infrastructure, without the usual set-up costs. A win-win situation wouldn't you think Pastor Mayotte?"

Silence.

"And then there is the situation of council rates and taxes. Your company, the one that owns the property and buildings, does it pay rates and taxes, or does it also claim an exemption based on it being a 'Christian charity or church?"

Silence.

"And you see nothing wrong in all of this?" 

"How much did your suit cost you?" It was a desperate attempt to deflect the focus from himself to Henderson.

"This one? Twenty dollars at the Sally Army Op Shop. I don't believe in flaunting any success that I might have, unlike you. If I were to front up to some of my clients in a suit like yours I would lose all of the credibility that I have worked so long and hard for. You see I work with some of the people that you wouldn't be seen dead with, because unlike you, I'm not a big fan of appearances. To be seen with someone who is not successful, does not give the appearance of success, is part and parcel of my work, and it gives me great satisfaction."

"I suppose that you finance your good works with cases like this one. How much do you hope to be paid in fees for this case?"

"Have you forgotten my statement at the beginning of this trial? Nothing. I have undertaken this case pro bono, a term that you would not be familiar with, that means unpaid. I am doing this because it is a cause that I can identify with, the helping people who have been, are being, ripped off by the greedy, the avaricious, people in our greedy and avaricious society, like you and your greedy avaricious church."

"Do you remember yesterday in one of the 'woes' we talked about, it mentioned the effort expended in gaining new members? Tell me Pastor Mayotte, is it not true that new people in your church are feted, after the service, in a special lounge where they can meet your Pastors and drink espresso coffee from your commercial espresso machine and eat cakes from your commercial kitchen while the older members are treated to cheap tea and coffee and cheap supermarket biscuits or, if they want proper coffee they can buy it from your franchised coffee outlet in the foyer? Jesus preached a classless society where all are equal while your church is an example of the opposite is it not, Pastor Mayotte?"

Silence.

"No answer as expected. Just out of curiosity, the coffee franchise you have in your foyer, do you pay franchise fees for it?"

"No, that was a part of the deal with the franchisor."

"And the people that make the coffee, do they get a paid wage?"

"No, they are all volunteers, they are proud to serve."

"And the cakes that are sold in this coffee outlet, are they purchased commercially, or are they donated?"

"They are donated. They are cooked by volunteers."

"So let me get this straight, you have a commercial coffee machine provided free of charge, the coffee beans are probably provided by the franchisor at cost, you have volunteer workers serving the customers, cakes that cost you nothing, the water and electricity I would hazard a guess are paid for as part of the church general account, which leaves the ingredients such as milk and sugar as the only expense. Correct me if I'm wrong here but you charge full commercial prices for the coffee and cakes that you serve, is this true, Pastor Mayotte?"

"Yes."

"And before you acquired this coffee franchise, you and your fellow 'awesome men of God' used to frequent a local coffee lounge, is this not true?"

"Yes."

"So not only are you making a large profit from this enterprise but you are operating at a distinct commercial advantage over the other coffee shops in your area, you are taking away a large part of their livelihood. Do you think that this is fair trade, Pastor Mayotte? Don't you think that if the other coffee lounges in your area were to complain to the relevant authority they would have some justification?"

Mayotte sat in silence unlike the public gallery that was abuzz with conversation and CC Jones who was disturbed by the tenor of those conversations. Things were not going well. He was going to have to whip up some sort of support for his man or the outcome could be disastrous not only for Mayotte but for the whole Pentecostal movement. This man Henderson really had a bee in his bonnet about the church and its ideology and unless he could be stopped their world would come crashing down, like the tower of Babel.

"Answer me Pastor Mayotte, isn't it true that your church uses the predatory pricing practices that I have just mentioned?"

"Yes. But when someone new comes we want them to feel that they are special to us."

"And after they have been there for a while they are no longer special?"

"No! That is not the case at all! Everyone is special to us!"

"Then how come not everyone can partake, free of charge, of your culinary largesse?"

"That would cost too much money and we have to be good stewards of our money."

"So you lavish gifts on the new and take the old for granted in the hope that, among the new there will be someone that you can exploit?"

"That is not true!"

"There is little evidence to support your assertion. So, much of what you do in your church is about the appearance of wealth and success, so that your followers and new people to your church can feel good about being a part of that wealth and success. It is nothing about God or the Spirit of God at all! You have created a vortex that sucks people into it, and when they have been stripped bare it spits them out, their usefulness to you depleted. Are you familiar with the Golden Orb Weaver spider, Pastor Mayotte?"

"I know of them but not a lot about them, where are we going with this?"

"Where we are going is that when I look at you and your church I am reminded very much of that spider. It builds this magnificent web, it really is spectacular, and its location is for maximum effect, and then it sits in the centre of that web and waits. It doesn't need to go out into the world looking for something to trap, no it's an ambush predator, it sits there and waits for this something to blunder into its web. And then do you know what it does? I'll tell you, it sucks that poor trapped thing dry until there is only a hollow shell where once there was a living, breathing creature. Do you see the analogy, Pastor Mayotte?"

There was a mumbled affirmation. 

"Unfortunately, this is a reflection of the acquisitive society that has been spawned by the same marketing principles you use. Relationships exist while you can gain from them, but as soon as there is nothing more to be gained, the relationship ceases. Friendships exist while one of the parties can gain something from it, but as soon as there is nothing more to gain, the friend has been sucked dry, the friendship ends."

"People come and go in the Pentecostal church. They stay while they can gain something from it and then move on. They stay until you have gained all that you can from them, and the hollow shell is allowed to fall to the ground, like the sucked dry husks of the victim of the golden orb weaver spider. The hollow husk is allowed to drop to the ground, because it is of no further use to you."

"You view those people that leave as failures, but not your failure, oh no, you are perfection personified, so the failure cannot be yours. But you don't think about those who leave because they have failed, their faith has failed them, they are losers and there is no place in your church for losers."

"Then there are the failures that stay, that live in the hope that you will still be willing and able to help them, never realizing that you no longer have an interest in helping them, the people that are most in need of your help. The rich don't need your help, but you fawn over them. The poor need your help but you ignore them, acknowledge them only in passing. The healthy don't need your help, but you ask them how they are. The sick need your help, but you have no help to give them other than offering them prayer support, knowing that this will not help as much as the medical intervention that they are being denied because they cannot afford it, but you still demand that they tithe. Where is your Christian compassion, Pastor Mayotte, where is it?"

"You don't tell the faithful about all of those who have prayed for healing but who have not received it, but you highlight any success, even if it is one written about by someone else. You highlight it when someone comes into money, and claim that it was because they tithed, not because they earned it, or a rich relative had died and left it to them. But you will make no mention of all of those people who have tithed diligently for years, and received no additional income, nothing."

"The one thing that you do not highlight about those successes is that there is absolutely no evidence to support your assertion that they were as a direct consequence of tithing and or prayer. And that is because no such evidence exists."

"No loser rates a mention, they are consigned to oblivion. It is then left for those organizations that actually do the work of God, and these are not necessarily churches, to pick up the pieces, to help those whose lives have been stripped bare by organizations like your church of Greed. When will you and your church actually begin doing the work of God, Pastor Mayotte?"

"Where do you get off telling me how to run the church of God! My church, our church is doing God's work! We bring joy into people's lives! We bring them closer to God!"

"You entertain them for a couple of hours on Sunday so that they can forget, for that short time, their problems, their cares. And when they realize just what your church is like, they leave. When the expensive veneer is stripped off they find a church constructed of chip-board, and they leave God because they feel betrayed by you and your betrayal of God. Greed is not God, but greed is central to your worship."

"We have a few people who move on as a part of their Spiritual walk, not because they are discouraged."

"So you are telling us that the appearance of wealth is not an integral part of your ideology, the ideology of the Pentecostal church?"

"No."

"Are you aware of an organization known as HTTV?"

"No."

"Come now Pastor Mayotte, tell me you aren't suffering memory loss. I bet your friend, Pastor Calvin Coolidge Jones, who is seated right behind you, and who has flown all the way from the US to support you, at your church's expense, he knows all about HTTV, the Holy Trinity Television, from whose studio in America pours a never ending stream of 'Christian' shows, including his own, designed to entice people to donate monies that will enable them to keep going?"

"Oh, them. Yes I know of them and the great work that they do."

"That 'great work' as you put it, costs many people their last dollar, some were even encouraged to go into debt to donate, to what? So that they can do the work of God? No! It is so that the Directors on this organization can live a life of obscene decadence and luxury! And what is given in return for this lifestyle? More requests for money! The faithful are continually bombarded with request for money, they are told that even if they can't afford it they should take the 'leap of faith' and give it any way! Put it on your credit card, write a check, take out a loan! Give! Give! And give some more to an organization that doesn't actually need it. An organization that has millions and millions, close to two hundred and fifty million at last count, of dollars in US Government Bonds, over thirty million dollars in cash assets, its own corporate jet at the personal disposal of the Directors, huge number of houses, paid for in cash so there is no paper trail leading to HTTV. Condominiums and mansions around the countryside at the disposal of the directors. Have you heard of Robin Hood, Pastor Mayotte?"

"The legendary outlaw who lived in Sherwood Forest?"

"That's the man. He and his band of outlaws were closer to doing God's work than the directors of the HTTV. Robin Hood saw the way the poor were being robbed blind by the evil money grabbing Sheriff of Nottingham, and decided to do something about it. So they stole the money from the Sherriff and his rich cronies, and gave it back to the poor from whom it was stolen in the first place, sort of evening the balances. But HTTV is doing the opposite! It is stealing from the poor, the people who can least afford to give, with promises of a hundred-fold return on their Seed, did you know that 70 percent of donations to one of the so-called Praise-a-thons were of less than fifty dollars, and this money went to the rich, the obscenely wealthy just so they can show the world that they are 'being blessed by God'. It makes me want to throw up, it makes me want to resign my membership of the Christian faith."

"Let me run some figures past you Pastor Mayotte. Figures quoted in an article on HTTV published in a newspaper a couple of years ago states that during a typical 'Praise-a-thon' some $90,000,000 are pledged. HTBN claims they receive only half of this amount, say $45,000,000. Now HTTV claims that God will repay this amount one hundred times over which means that HTTV is committing God to a debt of $4,500,000,000! If God had that kind of money at his disposal, do you honestly think that He would need organizations such as HTTV or even your church?"

Mayotte remained silent.

"Do you think that is right, do you think it is of God, Pastor Mayotte?"

"You are obviously distorting the facts!"

"A question; if this promise made on behalf of God was honoured by God, don't you think that there would be a huge PR exercise surrounding that amazing event, instead the silence is deafening, not one word of thanks from any of the recipients of God's bounty. These people have got to be either ungrateful, or the promises have not been honoured. Which is it Pastor Mayotte?"

Silence.

"This guy, this so called Pastor is a beauty. He has, through this 'Prosperity Gospel', distorted the purpose of the Christian faith for his own benefit. Using what he calls 'God's economy of giving', this awesome man of God exhorts the people to give even if they can't afford it because 'God is especially generous to those who give who can least afford it.' During one 'Praise-a-thon' he claimed that God could give you thousands, hundreds of thousands, He'll give you millions of dollars.' Do you think that it is really God making those promises, Pastor Mayotte?"

"He is a man of God and if he says that God made those promises then who am I to question that?"

"But you haven't verified that, have you? And some of the other 'awesome men of God' he has on his shows are just as deceitful. One of them claimed that Jesus wore designer clothes, and I quote; 'I mean, you didn't get the stuff he wore off the rack... No, this was custom stuff. It was the kind of garment that kings and rich merchants wore.' This is another example of 'instant coffee theology'. Yes Jesus wore such a robe, but if you look at the cited Scripture, John Chapter 19, you will see that it was the robe that was placed on him when he was being mocked during his trial. He did not swan around the countryside during his ministry on Earth in 'designer' clothes. But this person would have you believe that he did so just so that he could justify his own expensive clothes. Is that something that God would approve of, Pastor Mayotte?"

"I am sure that he has been misquoted."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you there. And do you know what happens when the return on your 'investment' is not forthcoming?"

"No."

"It's all your fault! That's what you'd be told. You didn't have enough faith, your lack of faith blocked God's blessing, probably because you weren't giving enough. That's what you'll be told! Nothing at all to do with the fact that those promises of returns for the 'seed' that you sowed would never bear fruit, your seed will fall on rocky ground and there is no nutrient in that ground to grow your seed, no they won't tell you that."

"One televangelist, and I can't think of his name right now, but it will come to me, once proclaimed that the church shouldn't give to the poor because they (the poor) couldn't repay the loan! If I was a swearing man I'd let out a couple of good ones right about now, in fact I think I will! Bloody Hell how un-Christian can you get! How can anyone have respect for a Christian Preacher who thinks like that? How can you have respect for him, Pastor Mayotte?"

"Have you got your facts right? This sounds like anti-Christian propaganda! It sounds like someone is spreading false rumours because his church isn't getting the same amount in donations."

"If I was a Christian minister, pastor or whatever, and I'd been working my butt off helping the poor, the sick, the homeless, the substance abusers, the marginalized of society, and I'd been financing this work with most of my church income, and living below the poverty line into the bargain, and you moved into my patch with a church such as yours, luring my members with its trappings of wealth being flaunted for the world to see, and who has been soliciting donations and tithes by telling the donors that the money was going to do God's work when almost all of it was being used to finance the trappings of wealth, and dangling the carrot of a seven-fold, or in the case of HTTV, a hundred-fold increase in my finances because of my giving, with little or no likelihood of that happening, wouldn't I, Pastor Mayotte, be justified in being just a little ticked?"

"I suppose you would."




Promises Pt. 03



"Great! Now you see it our way! Here you have a man," He pointed to McIvor, "who has sat in your church week after week, who has donated his time, his considerable expertise and money to your church because he was told that the money was being used for the work of God, only to see it spent on your extravagances, to perpetuate the appearance of wealth and success just so you could acquire more money, more wealth, and even more power. And you wonder why we are sitting here in this court?"

"Have you no conscience Pastor Mayotte? Have you no remorse, Pastor Mayotte? Have you no concept of the damage your greedy, avaricious church does to people less fortunate than my client, Pastor Mayotte? Have you not thought, given your claims of good stewardship, that the monies given to you could be better spent helping the poor, helping the sick, the homeless, the substance abusers, the marginalized of society? Don't you think, Pastor Mayotte, that your followers would feel really good knowing that the money they gave you was being used to help those people in this society who, for whatever reason, found themselves in need of help?"

"Pastor Mayotte you use the moneys that you collect to burnish the outside of the cup, instead of cleaning the inside, and do you know why? Let me tell you. Spit and polish on the outside is a visible use of money, the people can see it. But if you spent the money doing the unseen things, like looking after the needy, people cannot see that, they don't know what you spend the money on. It is all about appearances, the outward show. And in Matthew it was Jesus who criticised the church for doing things for show."

Henderson's voice dropped to almost a whisper. "I suppose you have given it the same amount of thought as you give to understanding the Scriptures that you are alleging adherence to, isn't that true, Pastor Mayotte?"

"We teach the word of God!"

"Speaking of the word of God, shall we have a look at the Scriptures that the Pentecostal church holds dearest in its heart, shall we? These are Scripture passages referring to 'riches'. Matthew 13 verse 22, why don't you read it out to us?"

Henderson handed Mayotte a Bible opened at the page.

"Actually, if you don't mind start at verse 18.'

Mayotte found his place and began. "Listen then to what the parable of the sower means: When anyone hears the message about the kingdom and does not understand it, the evil one comes and snatches away what was sown in his heart. This is the seed sown along the path. The one who received the seed that fell on rocky places is the man who hears the word and at once receives it with joy. But since it has no root, he lasts only a short time. When trouble and persecution comes because of the world he quickly falls away."

"Stop there! Now doesn't that sound familiar? Isn't that what we were just now discussing? The seed falls on rocky ground and the new convert is all fired up with enthusiasm but as soon as the going gets tough, as soon as your promises fail to materialize, because there is nothing, no substance, no nutrient rich soil for the roots to take hold in and to draw sustenance from, the seed is blown away, it lasts only a short time. How many people who go to your church, Pastor Mayotte, are there still, how many have moved on because there was nothing in your church to nourish them? Read on."

"The one who received the word that fell among the thorns is the man who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke it, making it unfruitful."

"The deceitfulness of wealth, the façade of wealth and power, it looks good Pastor Mayotte, but is it fruitful to all or is it fruitful to just a very, very few? You may continue."

"But the one who received the seed that fell on good soil is the man who hears the word and understands it, He produces a crop, yielding a hundred, sixty or thirty times what was sown."

"What does that mean to you, Pastor Mayotte?"

"If you sow a seed it will yield a hundred times what was sown. That is what my church believes. It is the word of God. It is the truth."

"So because of this interpretation of this Scripture, you tell your followers that the money that they sow into your church will yield a hundred times that sown?"

"Yes, what's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with it? You have taken the small section that seems to fit your agenda, and ignored the rest, and in doing that you place yourself and your church firmly in the part of that parable that doesn't yield the hundred fold increase. You preach a message that is not based on a solid foundation of understanding of the word, so those listening to you also do not understand the word, and the seed of knowledge and truth falls on barren ground for the birds, the evil one to easily pick up."

"The seed sown that does not land on the hard ground, falls on a rocky ground with nowhere to sink its roots. While it flourishes briefly, like a new convert to your church, because there is no substance to the soil in which it was planted, when the going gets tough it moves on or dies. Then there is the seed sown among the thorns of this life, here is a seed that desperately wants to grow, but his path to the light is blocked by the thorns, and because he is worried about life in general, and the deceitfulness of the wealth he sees around him, his efforts do not reach fruition. But the seed that falls on good ground, on a deep rich soil that is nurtured in the truth will grow to maturity and yield abundantly."

"Your church's ideology is not rooted in good ground, yours is a hard ground of obedience to your rules, yours is the rocky ground of a wafer thin theology and yours is the thorns of deceit. You have people coming and going, searching for a truth that is hidden from them."

"Let us stop here and think about this situation that you claim supports your ideology, the hundredfold increase of your 'seed money' as I have heard it described. Now, Pastor Mayotte, this isn't rocket science, it is however logic; If God had the finances to honour the promise made on His behalf by your church, this hundredfold increase, why on Earth would He need to borrow from us in the first place? He can't be a good steward of money if he can turn a one dollar investment into a ninety-nine dollar loss, can He pastor Mayotte?"

The church members in the public gallery turned to each other, the silent question asked and answered; 'Why would God need to borrow our money? If He had that much He could give the church all that it needed and still have money left over.'

"The next passage I would like you to read out is Mark 10 verses 17 to 31."

"Why am I reading this out to the court?"

"Because if you read it out loud it means that you at least hear it all, where if I were to read it you would probably hear less than half. Please proceed."

"As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up and fell on his knees before him. 'Good teacher,' he asked, 'what must I do to inherit eternal life?' 'Why do you call me good?' Jesus answered, 'no-one is good - except God alone. You know the commandments: Do not murder, do not commit adultery, do not steal, do not give false testimony, do not defraud, honour your father and mother.' 'Teacher,' he declared, 'all these I have kept since I was a boy.' Jesus looked at him and loved him. 'One thing you lack,' he said. 'Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.' At this the man's face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth. Jesus looked around and said to his disciples, 'How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God.' The disciples were amazed at his words. But Jesus said again 'Children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God! It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. The disciples were even more amazed, and said to each other, 'Who then can be saved?' Jesus looked at them and said, 'With man this is impossible, but not with God; all things are possible with God.' Peter said to him, 'We have left everything to follow you!' 'I tell you the truth,' Jesus replied, 'no-one who has left home or brothers or sisters, or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters mothers, children and fields - and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life. But many who are first will be last, and the last first.'" Mayotte stopped, a triumphant look on his face. "There! It is there! If you give it all up you will receive it all a hundred times over. What do you say to that?"

"There you go again, instant coffee theology, taking one scrap of teaching, one small sample in the overall passage, and you use it to justify your agenda. At the beginning of this passage Jesus tells the young man that, even though he has obeyed the Ten Commandments, because his wealth was more important to him than doing the work of God, looking after the poor, he would not get his reward in heaven. It was Paul in his letter to Timothy who said, 'the love of money is the root of all evil.' Don't you put the love of money ahead of all else, Pastor Mayotte. Think about this, Pastor Mayotte, your church in its never ending quest for riches and power, how does that fit in with this Scripture? Are you not the same as this young man, thinking more about your riches than doing God's work? Do you think that you'll go to heaven? It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the kingdom of God. Now I'm not going to put myself above God, as you do, by telling him not to let you into heaven unless you mend your greedy ways, I'll leave that to your conscience."

"My conscience is clear."

"If you say so. The other bit that I find interesting in this passage is that Jesus is saying that he is not the Son of God. He tells the young man that he, Jesus, is not good, only God is good. Now if he was claiming to be the son of God, or as your church would have us believe, a part of the triune, the Trinity of God the Father, God the Son, that is Jesus who we have just read telling us that he is not God the anything, and God the Holy Spirit. If Jesus was claiming to be God or a part of God then would he not say so here? Surely he would claim to be God and also good."

"Jesus is the Son of God! He is the human part of the Trinity, God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit! If you are a Christian you must believe in that and if you don't believe in that truth you cannot be a Christian and will not get to Heaven!"

"Whether or not I am a Christian is irrelevant. For your information; the Trinity or Triune that you hold so dear, did not come into existence as Christian doctrine until the conference at Nicaea, three hundred years after Christ died. I am not on trial here, you Pastor Mayotte are on trial here today. You and your beliefs are on trial here today. You and your teachings are on trial here today. You and your ideology are on trial here today. You and your promises are on trial here today."

"Now, the next passage is one of your favourites, and it is one of mine but for a different reason. Would you turn to Mark Chapter 12 starting from verse 41 through 44."

Mayotte flicked over the couple of pages he needed to and found the passage. 'Jesus sat down opposite the place where the offerings were put and watched the crowd their putting money into the temple treasury. Many rich people threw in large amounts. But a poor widow came and put in two very small copper coins, worth only a fraction of a penny. Calling his disciples to him, Jesus said, 'I tell you the truth, this poor widow has put more into the treasury than all the others. They gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything - all she had to live on."

"Pastor Mayotte, I have heard your fellow Pentecostal Pastors urge poor people who could least afford it to go into debt and give generously to their church, while at the same time they lived a life of luxury, the very point that Jesus was making, they could have given more and still live in luxury but did not, while she gave what she had from the heart, not looking for reward, either financial in this life, or spiritual in the next. Jesus teaches us that you should give without the expectation of a reward, while you teach us to give with the full expectations of a reward from God. Now don't tell me that you tithe, I've heard that message before. The difference is that the money that you need to live, and the money that you want to live a life of luxury is great, just as difference between the money you give and the money you could give is great. The obscenity of this situation is also great, if you were truly doing the work of God you would give more to support that work and less to support the appearance of doing that work. Your arguments are purely academic because, as Christians we, as Paul tells us on several occasions, are under no obligation to tithe at all. If you were obedient to the word of God you would at the very least obey Paul and not force your followers to tithe."

"I do the work of God by bringing the unchurched to Him! I do the work of God by opening up their hearts to Him! How dare you try to tell me that I do not do the work of God!"

"If you really had God in your heart you would be sitting there taking this criticism to heart and searching for ways that you could better do the work of God. Instead you allow your ego to get the better of you, you allow your anger to get the better of you, you allow your guilt to get the better of you, and you allow the hurt of the truth to get the better of you. You are spiritually poor, spiritually bankrupt Pastor Mayotte and yet you cannot give even a small portion of your all, spiritually, to God."

The gavel interrupted proceedings. "I think that it is an opportune time to adjourn for lunch, so that we can all calm down before we come to blows. Court is adjourned until 2 o'clock." The gavel didn't wake anyone up because no-one had even thought of nodding off.

*

"Hoooeee! Does that boy know how to get you riled up!" CC was holding forth in the restaurant where the Shining Light Christian Church team was enjoying, at least some were, a sumptuous luncheon. CC in particular was enjoying it because he wasn't footing the bill, it was being paid for by the church, and he hadn't just had to withstand a couple of hours of intensive grilling. "But let us relax and enjoy this magnificent meal, after all we deserve it!"

They sat in silence, the thoughts of those present wandered off in several different directions. Mayotte's thoughts ranged from how he could get out of this agonizing ordeal to a 'massage' session with Janine. Janine's thoughts were on how she could help Mayotte, and on the fact that the home pregnancy test she used this morning had returned a positive result, confirming what she already knew. Fenton was thinking of Cynthia and how, when this was all over, he could convince her that Matthew must be stripped of his Pastorship and he would take over the church, with her by his side. CC was thinking of ways, some legal, some not, of how he could put an end to this torture that Mayotte was being subjected to, and how to get Cynthia out of the way so that his new friend, and that pretty little filly of his could be joined together at the hip.

The food began to arrive and CC attacked it with a vengeance until Fenton nudged him and indicated that he should wait until the others had been served so that they could say 'Grace' before eating. After his false start and with 'Grace' out of the way CC resumed his assault on the huge steak on his plate. "This is some kind of good beef you boys have here! Almost as good as the grain fed beef we get back home, would someone be so kind as to pass me that bottle of wine there, I could develop a taste for this."

"What am I going to do about that Henderson, he really is building up a strong case, and he just won't let up on me." Mayotte felt Janine's hand on his thigh and her fingers tightened as a show of support for him in his time of pain.

"Hang in there boy. I have a plan. I don't think that you'll be having any trouble from him after today."

*

At another, less expensive, restaurant another strategy meeting was in progress. "What have you found out about CC Jones?"

Bill took a note pad from his jacket pocket. "This is some piece of work, let me tell you. He started life as used vehicle salesman and then he 'saw the light' and found God. That was when the Pastor of his local church came in and bought the most expensive car on the lot. They got to talking and CC realized that here was a racket that was potentially more lucrative than the one that he was in, and it had the protection of being a church, and in that part of the world the church was beyond reproach."

"Very soon he had a gig as an Associate Pastor at some small Assemblies of God church in Georgia. Following the discrediting of the Senior Pastor in spectacular circumstances, involving a certain young lady and some interesting sexual practices, he took over as Senior Pastor, and the church took off big time."

"He based his ministry on the Prosperity through Praise system that had also just taken off in a big way, you know; promise wealth for giving, and use the tithes and offerings to give your church the appearance of a success that would show the followers that you had been 'mightily blessed by God' and the upward spiral begins. It appears that the 'seven-fold increase' so dear to their hearts, was started by Oral Roberts way back in the 50's."

It was necessary to discourage investigation of your teachings and your finances, by insinuating that opposition to your ministry would mean a cessation of God's blessing, encourage additional giving to undertake projects that would gain you maximum exposure for minimal effort, but don't tell the world that you could easily fund those projects from your own funds and your wealth increases exponentially. Great huh?"

"So I was right. Is there anything in there that we can hang our hat on?"

"There's plenty of rumours of dalliances with ladies of dubious reputation, using church funds and property for personal purposes, there are even a couple of rumours that he had been involved in murder, it was never said that he had actually killed someone, just that he arranged it. Then there's the big one. C.C. Jones is good buddies with the 'Bikers for Christ' motor cycle club. A group of bikers who go from church to church with their testimonies of how they used to be 'bad-assed bikers who had found Jesus. They are now reformed and spread the good word around the Evangelical Christian network. But that is not all that they spread, they spread artificial joy in the form of cocaine. They also use the church as a money laundering agency, they make substantial donations to the church and receive equally substantial 'love offerings' in squeaky clean cash. C.C. Jones has been known to ride with them on occasions."

"Nice enough chap, I think I'll invite him home to meet mother." Henderson said, "I think that we should keep a very close eye on the larger than life CC Jones. So they have invited him in to help them. Well people I think that we had better be on our guard every step of the way. Frank, can you and Joan stay somewhere else for the duration, I think you may have visitors in the wee small hours."

"Sure, I can rig the lights and TV so it will give the impression that there is someone at home and I have an infra-red camera set up to watch over the house."

"Good, I've got your mobile number in case I need to contact you, in the mean time I will need to take some precautions of my own. Bill, I have a list of things, could you take care of them?"




Promises Pt. 03



"Sure Boss." Bill looked at the list, his eyebrows shot up as he read it. "Shouldn't be a problem." He got up and walked out.

They finished their meal and walked back to the courthouse.

There was a buzz about the courtroom as the protagonists resumed their pre-lunch positions. Henderson exuded an air of confidence while in contrast Mayotte had the look of someone preparing for his execution.

"We shall resume where we left off before the adjournment, shall we? Pastor Mayotte, the next Scripture I would have you read comes from the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 16 starting from verse 1."

Mayotte picked up the Bible and quickly found the place. 'Jesus told his disciples; 'there was a rich man whose manager was accused of wasting his possessions. So he called him in and asked him, 'What is this I hear about you? Give an account of your management, because you cannot be manager any longer.' The manager said to himself, 'What shall I do now? My master is taking away my job. I'm not strong enough to dig, and I'm ashamed to beg - I know what I'll do so that, when I lose my job here, people will welcome me into their houses.' So he called in each one of his master's debtors. He asked the first, 'How much do you owe my master?' 'Eight hundred gallons of olive oil.' he replied. The manager told him, 'Take your bill, sit down quickly, and make it four hundred.' Then he asked the second, 'And how much do you owe?' 'A thousand bushels of wheat,' he replied. He told him, 'Take your bill and make it eight hundred.' The master commended the dishonest manager because he acted shrewdly. For the people of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own kind than are the people of the light. I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings. Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much. So if you have not been trustworthy in handling worldly wealth, who will trust you with real riches? And if you have not been trustworthy with someone else's property, who will give you property of your own? No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money.' The Pharisees, who loved money, heard all this and were sneering at Jesus. He said to them, 'You are the ones who justify yourselves in the eyes of men, but God knows your hearts. What is highly valued among men is detestable in God's sight.'."

"What is highly valued among men is detestable in God's sight. The Pentecostal church should be shaking in its collective boots at this passage but, instead it uses it to justify its collection of money. It sees itself as shrewd managers who manipulate others to acquire more money for the church. But in doing so it is serving the two masters that Jesus tells them that they cannot do, its love of money, its quest for more money and power takes precedence over its love of God. Think about it; if the church actually loved God, would it still be focused on the acquisition of wealth and power?"

"We love God but need money to do God's work!"

"Have you ever compared your church with, say the Uniting Church? It uses a large percentage of its budget for the care of those people for which the tithe laws were originally introduced, yet it doesn't insist on its followers tithing, it asks for a 'free will offering', enough to meet its needs. You, on the other hand, demand, demand a tithe, while the highest percentage of your budget is used on the expansion of your church. Now which church would you say was doing God's work? We have looked briefly at the teachings of Jesus on the subject of money and I think that even you would have to admit that using parables to justify an agenda is open to abuse but the teachings of Paul on the other hand, are more straight forward. Would you be so kind as to turn to 2nd Corinthians chapter 8 verses 1 through 15. Could you read that out to the court please, Pastor Mayotte?"

Mayotte turned to the passage and began to read. 'And now, brothers, we want you to know about the grace that God has given the Macedonian churches. Out of the most severe trial, their overflowing joy and their extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity. For I testify that they gave as much as they were able, and even beyond their ability. Entirely on their own, they urgently pleaded with us for the privilege of sharing in this service to the saints. And they did not do as we expected, but they gave themselves first to the Lord and then to us in keeping with God's will. So we urged Titus, since he had earlier made a beginning, to bring also to completion this act of grace on your part. But just as you excel in everything - in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in complete earnestness and in your love for us - see that you also excel in this grace for giving. I am not commanding you, but I want to test the sincerity of your love by comparing it with the earnestness of others. For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich. And here is my advice about what is best for you in this matter: Last year you were the first not only to give but also to have the desire to do so. Now finish the work, so that your eager willingness to do it may be matched by your completion of it, according to your means. For if the willingness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has, not according to what one does not have. Our desire is not that others might be relieved while you are hard pressed, but that there might be equality. At the present time your plenty will supply what you need. Then there will be equality, as it is written: 'He who gathered much did not have too much, and he who gathered little did not have too little." Mayotte looked at Henderson, there was an excitement in his eyes and his confidence was renewed, what was wrong with this passage, didn't it support what he believed? "What is your problem with that? Paul says that they gave beyond their ability, so why shouldn't we expect the same?"

"But do you and your church do the same thing? No, you expect your followers to tithe even if that places them under hardship, but you do not do the same thing. The church at Macedonia gave first to the Lord and then to Paul so that he could do the work of God. That is different to your church, the giving is first to you and then to God, and only after you have taken your slice of the pie, and there are only crumbs left for God. This message from Paul is about equality, not about one church taking the giving of others and, while building up their own wealth, leaving the other church poor and unable to complete the task that it has begun. The whole passage doesn't fit with your interpretation of a small section of it, does it?"

"But in Malachi it tells us that if we don't pay our tithe to the church we are stealing from God!"

"But you have no problem with taking more than your fair share of what is given, stealing from those who God wanted you to help, just to become richer yourself?"

"I don't personally take more than my fair share."

"You are paid a wage?"

"Yes."

"I won't embarrass you by asking how much you get paid. Your house, is it adequate for your needs or is it more than adequate?"

"It is comfortable."

"I have here a photograph of your house. It fits the term 'MacMansion' quite nicely." Henderson held it up for Mayotte to see. "I would hazard a guess that there is enough room in this house for a large family, but there are only the two of you living here. Don't you think that it's something of an overkill to have a house this big for just two people?"

"We have to entertain visiting church people from time to time and we have family that come and stay."

"I won't ask you how big a mortgage you have on this house because I already know, and I would hazard a guess that you would have to have a very substantial salary to service that mortgage, but then there are the perks. The church gives you a car for your personal use?"

"Yes I have to go to meetings with other churches and undertake pastoral duties."

"Again I won't embarrass you buy asking you to give us examples of those 'pastoral duties' that you need a 7 Series, the top of the range, BMW costing in excess of $300,000 to get to. While you're at work, do you take a packed lunch from home, or maybe you go out for lunch, or maybe even, your lunch is provided along with morning and afternoon tea or coffee."

"I have to eat, and yes the church provides."

"And when you have visiting Pastors and you wish to entertain them, do you entertain at home with your wife doing the catering, is the catering 'in house' with your staff and volunteers doing the catering, or do you go to a fancy restaurant at church expense?"

"It depends on who we have to entertain."

"But aren't you supposed to treat all people equally? What line of demarcation determines who gets the fancy restaurant and who has to make do with your wife's cooking?"

"I don't have to answer that question."

"Fine, we'll leave it to everyone to come to their own conclusions." Before Mayotte had a chance to interject Henderson continued. "Tell me Pastor Mayotte, when Jesus turned over the trading tables in the temple, what was he on about, why do you think he did that?"

"I believe that he was saying that the temple was a house of prayer and the traders had defiled it."

"But under Jewish law of the time they had every right to be there. You see, the Jews were not allowed to give coins to the church that had a human image on it, as the Roman coins did, so there were traders there who changed the Roman coins for temple coins. They were offering a service to the worshippers, why would Jesus have any problem with that?"

"If you have a better answer I would like to hear it."

"I believe that what he was railing against was the commercialization of the whole process. Here was a spiritual place, a temple of God, and it had been turned into a place where the material had taken over, where the money changers had a nice little scam happening. I've been giving this a little thought and the question that I had to ask was; what happens to the temple coins once the Priests have them? They can't go down to the corner shop and buy stuff with them, they weren't any good anywhere other than as a tithe. What I think was happening was that the Priests and temple officials would sell them back to the money traders who would use them the following Sabbath. Chances were that both the temple officials and the traders were taking a cut from the transactions, as well as the traders paying for the right to trade. So you see the focus of the Pharisees and Priests was on money and power."

"You could be right."

"Now tell me, Pastor Mayotte, in the foyer of your church, apart from the franchised coffee outlet that you must make a large profit from, do you have merchandising tables and stalls where you sell books, CD's, DVD's and videos?"

"Yes."

"The CD's that you sell, do you have music CD's produced by your music team?"

"Yes. We are proud of our Worship Team, they really produce a high standard of music."

"And do you sell these at current market rates for CD's?"

"Yes. Where is this leading?"

"Bear with me, we're almost there. Before we get into the financial side of these CD's, I would like you to look at something." Henderson placed a DVD into his computer and the screen came alive to the sound and vision of Chuck Mayotte playing his guitar solo. "Pretty impressive isn't it Pastor Mayotte, I bet that you are proud of your son's musical prowess?"

"Yes, he's become a very competent guitarist."

"I'll stop the DVD here and call on Billy Browning, a renowned guitarist." Browning came forward and plugged his guitar into an amp.

"Objection!" Johansson rose to his feet. "What possible relevance can this have to these proceedings?"

"Mister Henderson?" Judge Foley was himself curious.

"If you will bear with me for just a moment all will be revealed." He started the DVD again, this time with the sound muted. "If you will observe, Billy here is fingering and picking his guitar exactly as Chuck is." The sound that emerged from Billy's amp was a discordant mishmash of noises, nothing like what had been heard on the DVD. "Now if you look to the back of the stage you will notice another guitarist is also playing. Billy, if you will." Again the fingering matched that on the screen, only this time it was that of the other guitarist, the one at the rear of the stage. This time the music exactly matched that on the DVD.

"Pastor Mayotte, what we have seen here is nothing short of musical deception. Chuck is the 'Milli Vanilli' of the Christian music scene. Oh I admit that he has the moves down pat, and the Presleyesque upper lip is impressive, but the music isn't his, is it? This is all a part of the deception that you are perpetrating on your congregation, it's all about appearances isn't it Pastor Mayotte. Your son is on the Shining Light payroll for his contribution to the music, to the pre-meeting concert, yet it is not him playing is it? He is accepting a wage under false pretences, yet you obviously don't see anything wrong with this, do you?"

"While we are discussing your family, how's the book deal going?"

"What are you talking about, what book deal?"

"Your older son, Matthew Junior, he's not really sick is he Pastor Mayotte?" This question caught Mayotte completely off guard. No-one was supposed to know about this and yet Henderson had found out. 

"What!" He was visibly shaken by this question. It took him several seconds to regain some sort of composure. "How dare you! My son is suffering from a particularly aggressive form of cancer and has been given only a short time to live. We, of course, are praying for a miracle healing to save his life." He grasped the railing in front of him for support and tears welled up in his eyes.

"But the miracle hasn't come quickly enough has it Pastor Mayotte?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that there is a whistle-blower in your camp who is about to go public with this deception, this lie. Your crocodile tears can't disguise the fact that your son does not have cancer at all, never has had, and you know it. You know it because of the fact that, if he had this form of cancer for as long as he claims, his body would be showing signs of it, his body would be showing signs of the treatment he claims to have been receiving, the hair loss from chemo, the affects of radio therapy, but there is none of that is there?"

"You took his word for the fact that he was ill, at least I hope that's the case," This brought a sharp glare from Mayotte, "This must be a case of placing your faith in a miracle because the person that it happened to was an awesome man of God and couldn't possibly lie to you. Can't you see the danger in relying only on faith, and not hard and fast evidence?"

The faithful in the gallery exchanged glances and the thoughts that went through their minds were identical; was it true? Did Mayotte know about this, this act where Matt would sing in a voice shaking with emotion, his prayer for a healing miracle? And those tears, really.

"One thing that I find difficult to understand Pastor Mayotte is this, on a number of occasions, such as when you announced recently that your church was moving onwards and upwards, you stated that, what were your words again? 'I was humbled when the powerful presence of God came to me', you have claimed a direct communication with God. Now, surely God, during one of your many conversations with Him, would have told you of this deception, but no, He failed to do that, didn't he? Does this mean that God was supporting this deception, Pastor Mayotte? Because if He is, that would mean that he is in on this con. I don't think so."

"You were going to wait an appropriate length of time and then announce to your congregation, and the world at large, that your prayers had been answered. And that your son was the recipient of a miracle healing. And that the new tests have shown, not just that the cancer is in remission, but that it has completely disappeared. Praise God for a miracle!" Henderson held both arms up mimicking the stance used by many preachers when proclaiming a miracle. "Think of the invitations to speak to other churches, at their expense of course, and with a love offering thrown in for good measure, you would have been laughing all the way to the bank."

"Your son, a Pastor in a church that you have affiliations with, has exploited his supposed illness to generate sympathy to his plight, has received substantial donations to help him in his plight. Money that was gained by false pretences, by deception, he was living a lie. And you knew that it was a lie, Didn't you Pastor Mayotte? You don't have to answer that."

"But God had other plans didn't He, Pastor Mayotte? The God that chose you to birth your church, who chose you for this work that you do, is punishing you. God placed an honest person, a Jeremiah, in your midst, one who was prepared to expose this lie, this deception. Is that not true Pastor Mayotte?" Henderson turned his back on Mayotte. "You don't have to answer that either." He said as he walked back to his desk. 

Mayotte's mind began to immediately search for who it was that could have told Henderson about Matt. His mind, distorted by this exposure, thought of only one person, Janine. Had she betrayed him when she spent the night with Henderson?

"Back to the matter at hand." Mayotte's attention was brought back into focus. "Can you tell me, Pastor Mayotte, what is the unit cost to your church of those CD's?" Another quick change of subject.

"I don't know off the top of my head."

"It wouldn't cost your church as much to produce as a commercial CD, would it?"

"I don't know."

"And I bet you've never asked. Do you pay composer's royalties for songs written by your music team?"

"No. That is their gift to us." 

"Do you pay management and agent fees for any of the artistes on the CD's?"

"No."

"Do you pay any fees to the artistes themselves?"

"No, our Worship Team are volunteers, they give their time and talents freely."

"Do you pay the sound and recording engineers?"

"No. Again they are volunteers."

"Do you pay for the hire of the recording studio?"

"No. We have our own facilities."

"The reproduction of the CD's, is that done using church equipment?"

"Yes."

"The energy, the electricity, used in the production of these CD's, is that accounted for separately from the church's general accounts, or as part of those accounts?"

"They are included in the general account."

"So the energy costs are not factored into the production costs of the CD's?"

"No."

"So these costs are paid for from the concessions you enjoy as a church?"

"Yes."

"The liner notes, they are designed by someone in the church?"

"Yes."

"Is that person paid for this service?"

"No. Again he is a volunteer."

"So the unit costs for each CD amounts to the physical cost of the blank CD itself, and the case, all of which can be bought at any discount store for less than a dollar each. The printing costs of the CD liners and the printing of the CD itself, probably using your own equipment at a unit cost of between fifty cents and a dollar. Would I be correct in this assumption, Pastor Mayotte?"

"Yes."

"So we have a CD that cost less than two dollars to produce, and you sell it for the same price as one that has been commercially produced, with all the associated costs and profit margins added in. Is this true, Pastor Mayotte?"




Promises Pt. 03



"We do give quite a few away. For instance new people in the church, as a part of their 'welcome pack' will get a CD."

"I understand that it isn't the latest CD but an older one, presumably because you weren't able to sell it, its sales have fallen short of the production run. But you still make a profit on sales, a profit of at least one thousand percent on each unit sold, do you not, Pastor Mayotte?"

"We would not be good stewards if we made a loss, would we?"

"Do you see any difference between what you are doing and what the money changers were doing in the temple?"

"If you look at it that way, I suppose not, but we look at the sale of merchandise as giving us an income that we can use to further the cause, so we can continue doing God's work."

"Nothing at all to do with the promotion of your church, Pastor Mayotte?"

"We must promote the church if we are to continue to grow."

"And continue to make money eh, Pastor Mayotte?"

"We need money to do the work of God?"

"But are you doing the work of God? Are you looking after the very people for whom the tithe laws were introduced in the first place?"

"When are you going to get off that soap box?"

Henderson ignored him. "The widows and orphans, the lame and infirm, the downtrodden and homeless, the substance abusers, the victims of broken homes and domestic violence, do you assist these people?"

"We run a counselling service."

"For which you charge after the initial consultation." Henderson raised his voice. "It's a commercial enterprise that you're running here, Pastor Mayotte, not a church." He dropped his voice. "And I suppose you received funding assistance to help you set it up?"

"Yes."

"So it doesn't cost you all that much in the overall scheme of things does it, Pastor Mayotte?"

"I guess it is a small part of our budget."

"What is the largest part of your budget? Is it wages for your Pastors and Administrative staff? Is it building improvements and expansion? Is it upgrades to the sound and lighting equipment?"

"When you combine those elements, yes."

"Each one of those elements on its own constitutes a greater proportion of your budget than your whole Social Welfare agenda, and you don't see anything wrong in this?"

"No! We are doing the work of God! We are bringing people to God! We are reaching out to the unchurched and bringing them to God!"

"And making a tidy profit at it. But you don't reach out per se do you, you are like the golden orb weaver spider that we discussed earlier, you set your trap and wait for someone to get caught. Do you actually go out and talk to the disadvantaged? When was the last time that you took a stroll around the parks and streets of Adelaide and spoke to the homeless people who live there? And just how much credibility do you think you would have with these people in your thousand dollar suit? What is more important to your church, Pastor Mayotte, profit with an 'f' or prophet with a 'ph'?"

"You make it sound as if our church is only in it for the money."

"You said it, not me. What you are running here Pastor Mayotte, is a Pentecostal Ponzi Scheme, you have heard of a Ponzi scheme I take it?"

"I've heard of it but don't know how they work."

"The way they work is that a person offers investors a scheme that it is claimed, will generate a very high return. What the investors do not know is that the returns paid to the initial investors is funded by the subsequent investors, and that, the longer the scheme runs, the less likely that any returns can be made. Now, the difference between this type of scheme and the one that you offer is, that the initial investors will at least get something, while yours will not. If someone was to come to me as an investment advisor and offer me a return of 700 percent per annum on my investment, I would be very sceptical indeed. But isn't that what you are offering with your seven-fold increase on finances in return for tithing? Knowing that if someone comes to you and asks why he has seen no return, all that you have to tell him is that it is his fault, his faith wasn't strong enough, something that he did has blocked God's beneficence. Never that the likelihood of a return was akin to a snowball's chance in hell."

"Just for your edification, my client has tithed four hundred dollars a month. Now one method we used when we were calculating how much your promise would return him at an interest rate of seven hundred percent per annum, which is what you promised, we compounded the interest monthly. At the end of ten years, which is how long my client has been giving to you, the amount that you have committed God to paying him is way north of more money than exists in the world. Do you think that it's fair, realistic even, for God to have to come up with that kind of money, just because you promised it? Don't worry, we know you haven't got that sort of money either. But can't you see the irresponsibility of the promises that you make?" 

"I think that we'll get back to your ideology Pastor Mayotte. Now I take it that you believe that all of your theology and worship practices are scripturally based, is this correct?"

"Yes, we believe in total obedience to Scripture." Mayotte's response was a reflection of his now lack of confidence,

"We'll start with your worship practices. Tongues, is that scripturally based?"

"Yes." There was an uncertainty in his answer.

"But we've already had a look at the practice known as 'tongues' or glossolalia, and seen that it is based, not so much on literal application of Scripture, but on a rather flexible interpretation, haven't we?"

"You might believe that but I'm not convinced. The practice is so widespread that it is impossible to believe that it can be anything other than scripturally based."

"But you haven't bothered to check it out have you? Common usage doesn't necessarily make it right, it's the same when you are driving your car, you develop little idiosyncrasies in your driving. Now just because you have done it all your life doesn't make it right, does it?"

"If you put it that way, I suppose not."

"Well it's the same with glossolalia, it has been a practice of the Pentecostal and Charismatic churches from the time that they began, but that doesn't necessarily make it right, just as the peoples of Corinth, believing themselves to be right, and believing that this was evidence of their spirituality, were speaking in 'tongues', not as the disciples at Pentecost were, but as the observers thought they were, and Paul had to bring them into line and tell them that they should only do in church that which edified the whole body of the church. He singled out the corporate speaking in an unknown language as something that did nothing to edify the body of the church."

"But the Pentecostal and Charismatic churches have ignored that passage entirely. They actually promoted the very practice that Paul was criticizing as an example of being spiritual, when it is nothing of the sort. They ignored Paul's teaching, choosing instead to take small snippets of Paul's letter that seemed to support their agenda, out of the context of the letter as a whole, and, claiming it to be 'Biblical, therefore true', they continued to promote this practice"

"Just because something is written in the Bible doesn't make it true if it is taken out of context. It doesn't make it true if you were to apply a mis-interpreted Scripture, so by applying your instant coffee theology you are in fact taking the truth of the Bible and turning it into a lie. You are taking what God said and turning it into a lie. You are taking what Jesus taught and turning it into a lie. You are taking what Paul taught and turning it into a lie. You are taking this book." Henderson held up a Bible, "and turned it into a lie." Henderson slammed the Bible down on the table, the loud noise causing the people in the courtroom to jump. "Would that be close to the truth, Pastor Mayotte?"

"I only know what I've been taught." Mayotte's voice was barely audible.

"And if that teaching is false? Don't you have a duty of care to only teach the truth? Don't you owe it to your followers to check it out and if you confirm the false nature of the teaching, stop it? But no, you accept with blind faith what you are taught because you have been told not to question it and you tell your followers not to question it. Isn't that right, Pastor Mayotte?"

"We are taught the truth and we are bound to teach the truth."

"You are taught nothing of the sort. You are taught what sounds good, what you feel people will believe without question because it sounds good enough to be true, and you tell your people that it is true and they believe you. 'Tongues' or glossolalia, never was a gift of the Spirit given to the disciples at Pentecost, or at any other time for that matter, yet because it is part of church marketing, you have to give it a Scriptural authenticity that simply does not exist. You, Pastor Mayotte, and your ilk, are teaching a lie. The big question is; are you going to do anything about it, or are you going to continue teaching the lie?"

"It is the 'Word of God' and we teach the word of God!" Mayotte's voice reflected his frustration.

"It is not the word of God! It might be your spin on the word of God, but if you were true to yourself, and your followers, you would have to concede that you have been sold a pup, and that you are selling them a pup."

"So I have to take your word for it? I think not!"

"It is not my word you have to take at all. Just read and understand the Bible for once. How about tithing? Tithing is an Old Testament Law and as such we, as Gentiles and not Jews, are not bound, according to Paul in Romans and Galatians, to obedience to those laws. We are also told in Deuteronomy, Acts and 1&2 Corinthians we are to give as much as we are able. If we are able to give more than a tithe we should do so, but you don't press that issue with those in your congregation who can afford to give more, do you? So you see Pastor Mayotte, instead of a hard and fast rule for giving, we are to give what we can, and yet you insist on demanding a tithe contrary to Paul's teaching regarding the need for Gentiles to tithe. Don't you think that there is something wrong there?"

"We teach the 'Word of God."

"So you keep telling me, but somehow I don't agree with you. You teach the word of God according to you and your agenda. You do not teach the whole word of God. You do not teach a contextually accurate word of God. You teach a distorted word of God, a fragmented word of God, an untruthful word of God, to suit your own greedy agenda. You are a false teacher, Pastor Mayotte! Now let us move on to prayer, Pastor Mayotte," The transition from the accusatory tone to a gentler one was as sudden as it was effective. "The church that you belong to has some rather interesting spins on prayer. It believes that if you see something and desire it and pray for it, it will be yours, I think the term used is; 'name it - claim it', is this correct?"

"God answers our prayers, I believe that, yes."

"Even if that prayer is for egoistic, selfish gain, and not something that benefits anyone else?"

"Yes. You make it sound bad."

"This is based, not on contextually accurate Scripture but on common usage within the Pentecostal church, usage that began with a Pastor E. W. Kenyon who coined the phrase, 'What I confess, I possess.' and wrote about the power of faith. It began way back in the time of Abraham, the Abrahamic Covenant that you and your friends believe, you and your friends teach, refers to material blessings and, as Christians we have inherited those blessings. Kenneth Copeland it was that said that 'since God's Covenant has been established and prosperity is a provision of that Covenant, you need to realise that prosperity belongs to you now!' The supporting Scripture is Galatians 3:14 that says that the blessing of Abraham [that] might come upon Gentiles in Jesus Christ. But you stop there, you don't read the rest of that verse that refers to those blessings being spiritual and not material. More instant coffee theology."

"Robert Tilton quotes Mark 10:30 when he tells us that 'Christians should give to others because, when they do, God gives more in return.' Gloria Copeland, bless her, took this a step further when she said, 'Give $10 and receive $1000, give $1000 and receive $100,000, in short Mark 10:30 is a very good deal.' Can you see how your fellow Prosperity Preachers have distorted Scripture so that their own greedy wants can be met?"

"This teaching is your Bible, Pastor Mayotte, not the real deal. Jesus taught that the disciples should give, hoping for nothing in return.' One of my favourite preachers is the aptly name Creflo Dollar. 'When we pray, believing that we have already received what we are praying. God has no choice but to make our prayers come to pass . . . it is a key to getting results as a Christian.' Can you believe that Pastor Mayotte? You must, because I heard you on a DVD quoting this very teaching."

"Back in the 1950's the Pentecostal church came to the realization that, to increase in number and be competitive with the mainstream churches, it had to offer something that they did not, and that something was a change in worship practice from a spectator sport to one of audience participation, where the people could feel that they were a part of the performance. Then they dangled the financial carrot so that they could promote themselves as being more successful than other churches. With success comes power, and money, and more success, and in the rush for even more money, power and success and in this gold rush, the church lost sight of its real purpose, to do the work of God. What is the role of the church in today's society, Pastor Mayotte?"

"To bring the unchurched to God in praise and worship. Part of that is to join together in prayer. We believe that if we all pray as a group our prayers will be heard, will have a stronger impact with God."

"Before we go into prayer in detail let us have a brief look at your praise and worship. Have you ever been to a television studio to watch the taping of a sitcom or a game show?"

"Yes."

"And before the taping there was a 'warmerupperer', a person whose job it was to get the audience in the mood so that they could add to the atmosphere of the show. Now doesn't your praise and worship do the same thing, set the mood, warm up the audience so that they are receptive to your message? So that they will believe everything that you tell them?"

"You make it sound so manipulative."

"Exactly! It is manipulative, and very successfully manipulative. Getting back to prayer; you say that the power of your prayer is increased if a whole bunch of you get together and pray for this selfish desire?"

"Yes, the Bible tells us that if two or more are gathered in His name He will grant us our wishes."

"The Bible tells us nothing of the sort! In fact, it tells us that if two or more are gathered in my name there am I, a passage that means that God is there, not that he is there because your prayers were louder. This passage, along with 'Do not forsake the assembly', you use to justify people actually going to church. Tell me Pastor Mayotte what was Jesus' teaching on prayer?"

"What do you mean?"

"I would have thought that to be a perfectly straight forward question. What did Jesus teach about prayer?"

"That if we want something we should pray for it and God will answer our prayer. The Bible tells us that with prayer we can move mountains."

"That's a passage that you guys like, but let me enlighten you Pastor Mayotte. He taught us that when we want to pray we should take ourselves off in private, to our room, our 'prayer closet' was the term he used in one version of the Bible, and pray to God. He didn't tell us to get a whole bunch of people together and pray, in fact he criticized public prayer. Let me read you this passage from the Gospel of Matthew, 'And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. And when you pray, do not keep babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words. Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him.' What does that suggest to you Pastor Mayotte?"

"But that is only one teaching on prayer."

"It is the teaching of Jesus, the very Jesus that in the Lord's Prayer began with 'Our Father', not 'My Father', he was telling us that we are all God's children. This is the same Jesus who you claim to follow implicitly, and yet you ignore his teaching on several counts; You pray loudly in church, a whole bunch of you rattling on in 'tongues', you don't even know what you are praying for, let alone anyone else, so how can you support each other's prayer, Paul mentions that very point in 1st Corinthians. You are only concerned with your own prayer, and you don't even understand that? God doesn't want the world to know what transpires in the personal relationship that exists between you and Him, between me and Him, it is a personal matter. He tells us that those who pray loudly in public have already got all that they are going to get, so what is the point? If you're not going to get anything else why keep doing it?"

"And we are told that God knows what we need before we pray for it. That's in Mathew 6 by the way. What we need, Pastor Mayotte, not what we desire, not what we greedily want, there is a difference between the two. So if I were to ask him for a new car to replace my twenty year old clapped out wreck, I should ask for one that meets my needs, that is practical, economical, nothing fancy, just one that meets my needs, gets me from point A to point B not, as one of your cohorts suggested, asking for my desire, in my case a Morgan Plus 8 turbo,. Isn't that true Pastor Mayotte?"

"If that is your desire, then yes, I suppose so."

"No it isn't in me to ask for my desire, and that's the whole point. If I ask for my desire I am showing the rest of the world that I'm not satisfied with just having my needs met, that I selfishly want more, that I am greedy, and that greed is good. Jesus wanted us to love our neighbours as ourselves, now if I was to be selfish I would be telling the rest of the world that it's okay to also be selfish and if the rest of the world is selfish then no-one would help anyone else, just as the Priest did in the parable of the Good Samaritan, just as your church teaches, just as your church does."

"Your church, Pastor Mayotte, teaches us that it is okay to be selfish, in fact it is desirable for us to be selfish, because if we have our selfish wishes granted then we can contribute more towards having the selfish wishes of the church granted. The big problem with that is that to achieve that you would have to rob Peter to pay Paul, wealth is a finite resource, in other words the money has to come from somewhere. If the money comes from the poor to feed the rich aren't the rich creating a greater poor?"

"We teach that everyone can become rich."

"At whose expense? The poor have no-one to take from, they are the bottom of the food chain, and they will stay there while ever there are organizations like your church around to keep them there. Can't you see, Pastor Mayotte, that by teaching this egoistic, self centred, self absorbed ideology you are going against the word of Jesus, the word of God?"

"We teach the word of God and the word of God tells us that our prayers will be answered. God doesn't want us to be poor, He wants prosperity for us."




Promises Pt. 04



Chapter 8

Trial Day 6

These people honour me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; their teachings are but rules taught by men.' Isaiah 29:13, Mark 7:6-7

Cynthia Mayotte's death dominated the news media. Speculation was rife that there was a connection between her death and the case in progress. Much was made of the fact that Mayotte and Janine had been alone in his office, and several attempts were made to contact him, before the police were dispatched to force an entry into the church. While the speculation wasn't concerned with Mayotte having killed his wife, it did centre on his relationship with his Personal Assistant, the insinuation being that he may have arranged to have his wife killed because of it. 

Because of this there was no chance of smuggling Mayotte into the court. This resulted in him and Janine having to run the media gauntlet. While the police were in attendance they offered little in the ways of protection. While Mayotte resorted to 'No comment" in answer to the myriad of questions thrown at him, Janine wasn't quite so lucky. She was the 'other woman', she was young, she was attractive and to make it even more titillating, she was a former prostitute. She was not about to get a free run. "Miss Elliot, what is your relationship with Pastor Mayotte?"

"I am his Personal Assistant."

"Is there any truth to the rumour that you two are lovers?"

"No comment."

"Was he a client before you found religion?"

"No comment."

"Are you carrying his love child?"

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"Then you deny that you are pregnant?"

"I don't have to answer such a ridiculous question." She eventually found the safety of the courtroom, only to be greeted by the cold-eyed stares of those people there who were members of the Shining Light Christian Church, they had already convicted her.

As Mayotte sat down he noticed a C4 envelope on the table in front of him with his name typed on it. He opened it and a large photograph fell onto the table, it had a note held to it with a glider clip. 'Guess who spent the night with the enemy.' The photograph was of Janine clearly waving to someone as she was leaving Henderson's house. The time and date stamp on the digital photograph clearly put it as having been taken the morning after Janine had been supposed to seduce Henderson. 

The note was signed, 'A friend'. Mayotte was shaken by what he saw, and was at a loss for an explanation. He knew that she went to Henderson's, but assumed that she would have left after the troops had. She had lied to him with her explanation as to why she didn't call in at the church before court. What else had she lied about? Was her involvement with Henderson really innocent?

Henderson and McIvor walked in and Henderson glanced towards Janine. He read the extreme hurt in her eyes. His heart went out to this girl caught up in something, so far out of her league, that she was in danger of floundering. He wondered if the church would bother to throw her a life line in her time of need.

"Mister Johansson, are you ready to proceed?"

"Yes your Honour. I call Pastor Calvin Coolidge Jones to the stand." Jones was not in the court room so a court officer was instructed to call him. Jones' name echoed up the corridors but there was no answer. 

"Mister Johansson?"

"Your honour, Pastor Jones is the principal witness for the defence, and without his evidence our case is in jeopardy. I ask for the court's indulgence while we try to locate this witness."

"Do you have other witnesses that you can call so that we don't have to adjourn the case while you locate your witness?"

"Yes your Honour."

"In that case I'll issue a subpoena to encourage Pastor Jones to attend and give evidence." A court officer was dispatched to Jones' hotel in an effort to locate him.

Johansson had one final throw of the dice, one last desperate course, to try to make up the lost ground caused by Mayotte's poor showing. The only course of action open to him was to discredit the person who caused that harm. "I call Michael Henderson to the stand."

There was a buzz of excitement. What was he on about calling the counsel for the plaintiff as a witness?

"Don't worry I know what he hopes to achieve, it won't work." Michael whispered to Frank as he stood and headed for the witness stand. As he sat his eyes briefly met Janine's, and he tried, in that brief moment to reassure her that everything was going to be fine. He was confident, just as he was sure that the opposition had been investigating him, and his background.

"You are Michael Henderson?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever been a member of a Pentecostal church?"

"I have never officially been a member of a Pentecostal church, but I did at one time attend one on a regular basis. Now before you ask if I have a grievance against the church, yes I do, and just so we don't have to go through a boring question and answer process, I will volunteer the information that you are searching for."

"I attended the church, actually it was more than one of them, because of my wife. I was in love with her, I still am, even though we are no longer married, and while I wasn't a Pentecostal, to me one Christian was the same as any other, she was uncomfortable with that. Unfortunately for me the Pastor at the church she was attending at the time, was of the view that I was an 'unbeliever' because I didn't go along with his hard-line fundamental views. For instance he asked me if I believed that the only way to get to Heaven was through Jesus Christ, and when I replied that, as a Christian, I believed that the way to Heaven was through Jesus, but I wasn't going to put myself above God by telling Him that He couldn't admit someone to Heaven, just because that person didn't agree with me. This was enough for him to tell my future wife that she shouldn't marry me, because to do so would be to, 'yoke herself to an unbeliever'. We had to marry in the Registry Office, but his comments were to haunt us for the rest of our married life."

"He had applied rules to my acceptance by him. Rules that he believed, or claimed, were from God, but they weren't, because God and Jesus applied no such rules. Jesus didn't require the Centurion to become a Jew before he healed his servant. Jesus didn't tell the Samaritan woman he met at the well that she would not receive the waters of life unless she went home, packed her bags and left the man with whom she was living, because he wasn't her husband. There are many examples where Jesus healed people, blessed people and provided for people but no examples where he applied any conditions prior to doing these things. Yet here is a supposed Christian church applying conditions on people who want to become members. Nowhere in the Bible does it tell me that I had to endure a dunking in a pool, and emerge speaking in tongues, to be a Christian. But to be one of them, I had to comply with their membership rules, it's their rules, not God's, so why should the church insist on it?"

"My wife was firmly entrenched in Pentecostal ideology, thoroughly brainwashed by Pentecostal ideology, and if we ever had a religious discussion and I didn't agree with what she had been taught, we would end up arguing, and if I was able to prove to her, scripturally, that I was right, she would just tell me to take it up with 'leadership', knowing full well that such an action would be a waste of time, because they would not change their interpretation. That's not to say that I didn't attempt to discuss theology with them."

"One Pastor that I spoke with claimed that he didn't have a problem with me disagreeing with him, and he was willing to discuss my differences with me. But then he added that he hoped that I would always remain 'teachable', the inference being, that he would discuss teachings with me while ever I was prepared to concede that he was right. In my experience with different Christian sects, the one that was least 'teachable' were the Pentecostals. They rejected out of hand all reality except their own. They rejected out of hand all 'truth' except their own."

"I became even more frustrated at my wife's lack of curiosity, her blind obedience to the Pentecostal teaching demonstrated how little she cared for me. It was a painful revelation for me."

"That will be all." Johansson was now sorry that he had called Henderson to the stand; he had hoped to prove that Henderson's hatred of the Pentecostal church would manifest itself in anger, anger that would have distorted his thinking. But here he was lucidly and systematically demolishing the church. All he could think of now was damage control.

"Your Honour, Mister Johansson opened this can of worms, and I don't think it is time to shut it now. I could always cross examine myself, and achieve the same result as if I just keep going as I am."

"I agree with you."

"I object!"

"Mister Johansson," Judge Foley stared directly into Johansson's eyes, the message in that stare immediately and abundantly clear to the recipient. "I am fully aware what you had hoped to achieve by calling your opponent to the stand, and I allowed it. I must also allow Mister Henderson the opportunity of reply. As he suggested, we could go through the rigmarole of a cross-examination, but, also as he suggested, this court will be better served if he continued his explanation."

"As your Honour wishes." Johansson sat down, defeated.

Henderson acknowledged Judge Foley. "The more that I witnessed of the way that they operated, the more I became convinced, that the Pentecostal church was financially wealthy but spiritually bankrupt. Everything was for show, from the concert at the beginning of the service to the way the preachers delivered their message. They were entertainers, not messengers of God. And then there were the constant demands for money by playing on the greed of their followers."

"In their defence the Pentecostal church will tell us that they need money to do the work of God and that other churches demand money for the same reason, but the difference is, that the Pentecostal church is one of the few that turns these demands into a scriptural imperative, to be obeyed, even if you place yourself in financial hardship."

"When I first started going to a Pentecostal church, no, even before that, when I first saw a Pentecostal worship service on television, I was immediately drawn to make comparisons with the Nuremburg rallies of pre World War Two Germany, I was immediately drawn to comparisons with a mosh pit at a rock concert. The process was the same, the achieved outcome was the same; caught up in the euphoria, those there would believe anything and everything, that they were told. In the case of Nazi Germany they believed totally in the Aryan 'Master Race' of racial purity because that is what their leader Adolf Hitler told them to believe, and they were too scared to challenge him. The Pentecostals believe in the Evangelical 'Master Race' of religious purity, and their followers are too scared to challenge that teaching."

"If you ever have the time you should watch some of the shows coming out of the States through HTTV, it's an education in greed. Here you have a broadcasting network that's on air 24/7, it sells time to preachers who want to gain access to their viewers. The directors of the network are incredibly wealthy from monies earned through the network, but they don't need to use their own money for anything. They live in any of the many mansions or condominiums that the church owns, bought using cash so that there was no paper trail leading to the church."

"Whenever they need to travel, they use the network owned executive jet, it's not leased, it's owned by the network, and it is a multimillion dollar plane. This network holds a twice a year Praise-a-thon to beg for money, to keep the network on the air, when they have millions of dollars in cash and hundreds of millions in Treasury Bonds. And do you know what the most obscene thing is? The overwhelming majority of the donations that they get are from people who can't afford to give this obscenely wealthy organization from their low income. They are suckered into giving by the promise of wealth beyond measure in return for their giving. They are even encouraged to go into debt, with the promise that their debt will be repaid by God, it doesn't happen."

"While one of the network's rules limits the time that these preachers can ask for money, and sell merchandise, to a minute at the end of the broadcast, there is a banner scrolling across the bottom of the screen the whole time, with a donation hot line that people can call to pledge money. This is a constant subliminal demand for money, and it works! They have a prayer line, where people can call in with prayer requests, and from this they add the names to their mailing list, and a couple of days after the phone contact, the people receive a begging letter from them."

"While the history of the Prosperity preachers is littered with the obscenely rich, those that succumb to the fortune that they have gained in this way, and would do anything to get more, names like Oral Roberts, Jimmy Bakker, Kenneth Copeland, Joyce Meyers, Benny Hinn, the list goes on. These people have built up huge financial empires on the back of the poor, by dangling the carrot of riches beyond measure. This is obscene in the extreme, and certainly does not in any way follow the teachings of Jesus, who told the rich young man to divest himself of his wealth before he could become a follower. That young man, just as this organization, chose his wealth over the work of God."

"Yes I do have a problem with an organization that promotes itself as a Christian church, but whose ideology is diametrically opposed to that of Christ."

"Yes I do have a problem with an organization that has totally ignored the Christian mandate of help for the poor and disadvantaged in our society. Jesus never turned away a request for help, a request for healing, but one church that I used to attend, when approached by one of its members for assistance, told this woman to go to the Salvation Army. I ask you, is that a Christian attitude? This church had replaced the work of God, with its obscene quest for wealth and power, at the expense of the very same people it is meant to help."

"Yes I do have a problem with an organization whose leaders swan around the world displaying their wealth, wealth that they have gained from the very people that they are supposed to help."

"Yes I do have a problem with the obscenity of this situation, these organizations enjoy tax relief, because they claim to be a Christian charity, when Christian charity is not part of their ideology, and that they are in fact, a huge corporate vortex sucking the life out of everyone and everything around them."

"Mark put it very succinctly when he records Jesus quoting Isaiah: 'These people honour me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. They worship me in vain; their teachings are but rules taught by men.' Or even more succinct is the 'Message Bible' translation: 'These people make a big show of saying the right thing, but their heart isn't in it. They act like they are worshipping me, but they don't mean it. They just use me as a cover for teaching whatever suits their fancy, ditching God's command and taking up the latest fads.'"

"If you cast your mind back a few years there was this thing called the 'Toronto Blessing' that swept through Pentecostal churches, it was touted as a spiritual gift that had hundreds of people falling about laughing uncontrollably, but where is it now? Now what Mark said, is what I call prophetic, because it applies explicitly to what is happening now, over two thousand years after the words were written. To paraphrase the words heard so often over the Pentecostal pulpit; 'That is truly awesome prophecy!'"

"A couple of days ago Pastor Mayotte called me an atheist, I assume that was because I was challenging his teaching, his doctrine. In answer to that, I am not and never have been an atheist. I was brought up in a Christian family and, while I may have not always attended church, I held onto my Christian principles, my Christian outlook on life, I tried at all times to love my fellow man and I certainly tried to love God unconditionally, I tried at all times to not do anything that would harm, or cause pain to, my fellow man."

"Such, unfortunately cannot be said for the teachings of the Shining Light Christian Church, and other similar churches. Theirs is the antithesis of the teachings of Jesus Christ, they place many, many conditions on the love that they dispense, and, if you challenge their teachings you are punished. There is little evidence of love in the Pentecostal church doctrine. It claims rigid adherence to the word of God, but that claim cannot be substantiated. It claims Jesus as its spiritual leader but it is guilty of the practices that he criticized in Matthew 23."

"It is interesting to note that, on several occasions I have discussed the various worship practices with Pentecostal Pastors, and while they have separately agreed with me on the individual elements of these practices, and how they are not supported scripturally, whenever I attempted to combine these elements into a whole, they would have none of it. A case of; the sum of agreement with the individual elements equalling total disagreement with the whole."

"That is why I agreed to take on this case. It was not for the money, because I am doing it for nothing. When my client came to see me with his enquiry about this case I felt ashamed. I felt as if I had let the world down by doing nothing about what I had witnessed in these churches. I recalled the Parable of the Good Samaritan, and likened myself to the Priest and the Levite, who did nothing to assist the mugged traveller, who saw a wrongdoing and did nothing to help, whose complacency was just as much a sin as the robbers that had left him there, when I should have been like the Samaritan, who rendered more than aid."

"Here was a man willing to put everything, his life, his reputation, on the line for this cause, and it made me so ashamed of my lack of action that I jumped at the chance, because, it finally gave me the motivation to do something that I should have done ages ago. It is not about my seeking revenge for my broken marriage, it is not about my client seeking recompense for the money he has contributed. It is about someone, us, taking a stand against this organization whose creed is 'Greed is good, greed is God'!"

"When we look back into the history of our religion we find that there have been many precedents for what my client and I are doing now. We have already mentioned the Prophet Jeremiah and the way he had to endure hardship because he spoke out against the church of his time". 

"We have the example of Martin Luther who, disgusted with the corruption he witnessed in the church of his time spoke out against it and was excommunicated for his troubles. The Pentecostal, along with other Protestant churches, should be thankful that he did, yet here they are trying to stifle that very same process." 

"We saw Copernicus who was forced to recant his theories, because they went against the teachings of the church on the creation of the Universe and Earth's position in relation to the sun, and the rest of the Universe, theories that had already been proven by the Maya in Central America." 

"We saw that Galileo was excommunicated when he proved that Copernicus was right, and that the Sun did not revolve around the Earth as the church believed. It wasn't until late last century that the church finally admitted it had been wrong, and rescinded the excommunication."

"And of course we can't forget the biggest of all, Jesus Christ. He was killed, not because he claimed to be the 'Son of God' or the 'King of the Jews', or even the Messiah, but because he spoke out against the corruption and false teaching of the church of his time." 




Promises Pt. 04



"I am not saying that we should be compared with Jesus, Martin Luther maybe, but not Jesus. But we felt that we had to publicize what we see as the corruption and false teachings of today's Pentecostal church, and it would appear that not a lot has changed. We chose to use a secular forum, for the simple reason that we would have gotten absolutely nowhere by going to Pastor Mayotte. At best he would have offered to pay back the monies contributed in return for my client signing a confidentiality agreement, and an undertaking never to darken his door ever again."

"Criticize the teachings and you will be taken aside and politely told not to come back, or you will be ignored, and the hope is that you will give up and go away. Whatever the method, the truth is that the church is not prepared to entertain that it could be, notice I haven't said 'is', wrong." Henderson looked at Johansson, "Have I covered everything? I wouldn't want to miss anything out."

"No you may stand down."

The court officer sent to Jones' hotel returned and whispered in Johansson's ear. Johansson cleared his throat and addressed the bench. "Your honour, it appears as if Pastor Jones has decamped, flown the coop. He has left the hotel without checking out and no-one at the hotel saw him leave. I am afraid that I'll have to request an adjournment while we attempt to track him down."

"I don't like the uncertainty of that so I am going to issue a bench warrant for his arrest, and have the police put out an APB. Just in case he has already left the state, I'll issue this for all exit points from the country. I will reconvene this court tomorrow morning and if he has not been located I will call for final submissions from counsel. Court is adjourned!"





Chapter 9: 

The final analysis

Trial Day 7

"During the course of this trial we have not questioned the word of God."

All the major players were in attendance except Pastor Jones. "Your Honour." Johansson began. "We have been unable to locate Pastor Jones but we do have a strong lead. It would appear that he had a guest who stayed the night with him, an employee of an Escort Agency. This person had arranged for the two of them to be picked up from the loading dock of the hotel and taken to the Keswick Rail Terminal, where he boarded the Overland to Melbourne. The ticket was issued under a false identity, and that same identification was used to purchase an airline ticket to Brisbane, with a connection to the United States. That flight hasn't left yet so we are hopeful of apprehending him as he checks in. In the meantime the police want to interview him in connection with the murder of Cynthia Mayotte." There was a gasp from the gallery and Frank and Michael looked at each other in amazement. Henderson looked across at Janine raising an eyebrow in question. She shrugged her answer.

"Mister Johansson, as I intimated yesterday, if you are unable to produce your witness we will hear final submissions. I will allow the opportunity, if he can be found, for you to call Pastor Jones, although I think that might not be in the best interests of your case. You may proceed Mister Henderson."

"Your Honour." Henderson began, "Before I begin my summation I would like to say that the events that have happened over the last couple of days have left my client and myself speechless. We have failed to predict that it would come to this, and we believe that neither the defendant, nor any of those around him, are in any way responsible for the planning and execution of the crime that has been committed. I confess to having an aggressively cynical attitude towards the defendant, only because he is symptomatic of the depravity of the Pentecostal church."

At the beginning of this trial I stated that the Shining Light Christian Church, and its Senior Pastor Matthew Mayotte, were guilty of secular deception, and that the burden of proving this deception was on the Plaintiff and myself. In order to prove this, we had also to prove that it was guilty of scriptural and spiritual deception. To do this we had to show that, with its teachings and worship practises, it had taken the Christian Bible and the teachings of both, Jesus of Nazareth and the Apostle Paul, and distorted them for its own venal agenda."

"During the course of this trial we have not questioned the word of God..."

Bang! "That's a lie!" Mayotte's hand slammed down on the table as he rose to his feet, the loud noise causing those around him to flinch. "You have done nothing but question the word of God!" 

Bang! This time it was Judge Foley's gavel that echoed through the court room. Bang! Bang! "Order! Pastor Mayotte, you will sit down, now!" Mayotte glared at him, but sat. "Pastor Mayotte, the reason that we are here is to determine the legitimacy of the claim made by the plaintiff, and the persons who have to make that determination are the jury, a jury, which if you recall, is made up predominately of people who are sympathetic to your cause, and I would appreciate it if you will allow the counsel for the plaintiff to continue with his summation without any further outbursts of this nature. Mister Henderson, once again you may proceed."

"Thank you your Honour. As I was saying, we have not questioned the word of God, instead we have questioned the Christian Bible, man's recollection, recording, and interpretation of the word of God, and that is a different matter entirely."

"We have used the so-called 'inerrant Word of God' to prove that it simply cannot be the inerrant Word of God. We have proven that it is not as the inerrancy theorists would have us believe."

"For this book," he held up a Bible, "to be considered the inerrant word of God it would have to pass a simple test; the test is easy to prove, and that is that God actually wrote it. If God actually wrote it, this book would contain no errors, no contradictions, and would be wholly consistent throughout. God may have inspired it, but you only have to look at the many versions of the Bible to realize that it had to be produced with the involvement of man. God we know is infallible, man however, is very fallible indeed."

"The only evidence put forward by Pastor Mayotte and his ilk to validate their assertion that God is responsible for the truth of the Bible, is found in Paul's second letter to Timothy, verse 16. But again we have an example of instant coffee theology, because here we have a passage that is never quoted in its entirety. The church states that the Bible is the truth because 'All Scripture is God breathed.' But if you were to study this passage in context you will get a different meaning." Henderson picked up a Bible and opened it to a marked page. "'But as for you, continue in what you have learned and have become convinced of, because you know those from who you learned it, and how from infancy they have known the Holy Scriptures, which are able to make you wise for salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. All Scripture is God breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.' What this passage tells us is that Scripture is a useful tool for preparing a man of God for his role, as well as a tool by which he can find the truth of God, a guide to the truth, not necessarily the truth in itself." 

"One point that is conveniently overlooked by the church is that this refers to Scriptures extant at the time that this letter was written. These Scriptures did not include those yet to be written, such as the Gospels. If you want to include the Gospels, then you have to include all Scripture written after that time, and this includes the Koran. But the church will not have this. Adherence to this passage of Scripture has become selective."

"In the Word is the truth, but the word is not the truth." This statement would have, at the beginning of the trial, brought gasps from those in the public gallery, now they remained silent.

"In the Bible you will find the truth, but not everything in the Bible is the truth. In accepting the literal truth we are in danger of missing the spiritual truth. By insistence on accepting the literal truth, because it can be proven to be wrong, diminishes the faith that can be placed on the rest of the Bible, and that includes the spiritual truth." 

"We have never questioned the importance of the Bible in the lives of Christians, we have, however, questioned the interpretation and use, or should I say the mis-interpretation and mis-use, of the Bible by the church, this church."

"There are things in the Bible that have been found to have been man's understanding of the truth at the time, but, as his knowledge has grown, he has realized that what he thought to be true in the past cannot now, be held to be true, just as at some time in the future man will be able to prove that what we hold to be true today, is not the truth, and there is nothing wrong with recognizing that to be the case."

"Man's quest for knowledge did not cease at a point two thousand years ago."

"Just as man's knowledge base is a dynamic process, his relationship with God is a similarly dynamic process. There is no cut-off point in that relationship, a point where God and man announce; 'that's it, our relationship progresses no further than this point', so it is ridiculous to apply the two thousand year old rules of man to today's world. Those rules are contained in the physical relationship between God and man, the rules that we should apply to today's world are the spiritual rules given to us by Jesus and that is an ongoing, dynamic, experience."

"The truth that is contained in the Bible is the core of Christian ideology, and that is centred on the Two Commandments of Jesus. If we love God with all our heart, soul and spirit and love our neighbours, in the universal context, as ourselves, we will live as God wants us to live. These Commandments are a distillation of the Old Testament Ten Commandments. That love, just as God's love for us, should be unconditional, for as soon as we apply our conditions, our rules, to that love, we are no longer living as God would want us to live."

"In Paul's letter to the Romans he re-enforces that point and takes it one step further, he relates the Second Commandment to the Ten Commandments which it supersedes, and to our physical relationship with our universal neighbours when he says that if we show unconditional love we will do nothing to harm our neighbours. One of the Ten that he mentions was 'You shall not steal', and to promise financial reward in return for a tithe, claiming it to be a God promise, knowing that it is not a God promise, is stealing, pure and simple." 

"The Pentecostal church, of which this church is one, rejects any reality but its own. The Pentecostal church rejects any truth but its own."

"If you truly seek the truth of the Bible you will have to go outside the teachings of the Pentecostal church. The Pentecostal church does not have a monopoly on God. The Pentecostal church does not have a monopoly on understanding God. The Pentecostal church does not have a monopoly on the understanding and interpretation of the Bible. The Pentecostal church does not have a monopoly on correct worship practices. But they will not discuss this with any non-Pentecostal Christian."

"Paul tells us that if we bind ourselves to the rules of man, Jesus came for nothing. Jesus came, not as the prophesied military Messiah to free the people from their physical bondage, but the spiritual Messiah, come to free them from their spiritual bondage. The Pentecostal church, by applying its rules negate Jesus as the spiritual Messiah, he came for nothing. They do not obey the Bible in the spirit, they demand obedience, not to the literal Bible as a whole, but to selected passages of the Bible that support their agenda, their quest for power and wealth. For them to make money, they have to take money. They do not produce any goods that they can sell, apart from their CD's and DVD's, no, the service that they provide is nothing more than a little 'c' christian themed entertainment to make their followers feel good for a short time. And for which they have to pay dearly, not only in money, but in faith. These people give their faith to this church for what? Certainly not the financial reward that has been promised, not once, but many times.

"Contrary to their claims, the Pentecostal church is not living in obedience to the whole Bible because they only teach, only live by, those passages in the Bible that support their ideology. They ignore contrary Scripture, they do not recognize the existence of contrary Scripture, and by not acknowledging the existence of such Scripture they hope that it will cease to exist. But it is there! Just because they refuse to recognize it doesn't mean that it isn't there! Just what are they afraid of? If you or I were to suggest to a Pentecostal Christian that a relationship with God can be any other than their relationship with God, we would be told that we are wrong. End of story."

"The major Christian religions have their liturgies, their worship practices, and that is fine. What is not fine, is when they tell us that their way is the only true way, because it is based on literal obedience to Scripture when that is not the case, when that can be proven to be not the case. In doing that they are teaching a lie, they are living a lie."

"The only proof put forward by those who believe the Bible to be the inerrant word of God, is that the Bible tells them that it is so, that 'all Scripture is God breathed', as Paul tells Timothy. But, as we have proven, it also tells us that it is not so, as when Jeremiah tells us that the laws as written by the scribes are man's laws and not God's, and as Paul tells us on a number of occasions, Jesus took from us the need for obedience to those physical laws, these laws are now vested in the authorities, which Paul tells us were put in place by God, making them no longer applicable, as scriptural and spiritual law, to us. This church claims that all Biblical Laws are applicable to us when Paul tells us the opposite."

"In the same way that the inerrancy proponents claim that, if science disagrees with Scripture, then science is automatically wrong, they also claim that there are no errors because they, having been told to believe that no errors exist, will find no errors."

"To put your faith in the physical, literal Bible is a nonsense. It is scriptural laziness, and it also means that you will miss out on the spiritual meaning, the spiritual impact, the real truth of the Bible."

"We have proven that it does contain errors, it does contradict itself, and, in particular the synoptic Gospels, far from being a harmonious record, are agenda driven and inconsistent in their recording of the events of the Jesus narrative."

"One of the stated core teachings of this church, and others like it, is that the Bible is the inerrant word of God. Now if this teaching is wrong, as we have proven, how can we be sure that the other teachings, based on their interpretation of this book, are not also wrong? Simply put we cannot."

"My client has for some time felt that the teachings of the Shining Light Christian Church, in some way lacked credibility, somehow lacked veracity, and in some ways were misleading. His disquiet at this led him to research the teachings of the Shining Light Christian Church and its parent church in America. During this research he was appalled at the way that this Pentecostal church had, for many, many years misled its followers with its core doctrine of 'Prosperity through Praise', it's so called 'Prosperity Doctrine', in particular its, as I have come to call it, 'instant coffee theology' by which the church selects Scripture passages and sometimes single words, that fit its doctrine and, because these passages or words appeared in the Bible they claimed that they are 'Biblical'," Henderson held up both hands and used the first two fingers of each to indicate parenthesis, "and therefore 'true', irrespective of whether they used them in right context or not."

"He was further appalled by the way that these 'pillars of the church', these 'awesome men of God' have abused their position in a continual quest for more money and more power. For instance, the leader of this church in the US, Pastor Calvin Coolidge Jones, not his real name by the way, who is a man of immense personal wealth, demanded, before he would even consent to come here to support Pastor Mayotte, Business Class air fares in both directions, to be put up in five star accommodation, all meals to be provided and all expenses to be met by the church, and it appears as if this is a common practice with these 'awesome men of God', and you try to convince me that these people aren't in it for the money. He wouldn't even come here to support his colleague without having his demands met by the church! I would even suggest that if he had stuck around until Sunday, the church would have held him up as a 'tower of strength' who came here to support Pastor Mayotte, and then taken up a 'love offering' for him, which would have been more than enough to cover the costs of his trip, but it would have gone into his pockets."

"Think about it, Pastor Mayotte used his churches funds to finance this trip, money given to the church in good faith by its members, and if he'd been around to collect his 'love offering' on Sunday its members would have been slugged again, they would have paid twice for this trip! And you want us to believe that you're not ripping them off." Henderson's voice was just loud enough to carry to the public gallery. It had the desired impact on those present in the gallery.

"On closer study of the church and its attitude to the Bible, my client also began questioning whether the Bible is the inerrant 'Word of God' that the church has claimed it to be many, many times. We played CD's of the teachings of the Shining Light Christian Church where this claim was strongly emphasized, along with the inference that this teaching should not be questioned."

"By looking closely at the Bible, in particular the Books of Genesis and Exodus, we were able to demonstrate conclusively that this claim could in no way be supported by the scriptural evidence, let alone by the scientific evidence, because that was not available when it was written, but is now available. Pastor Mayotte still maintains, as he would, given his church's position on this subject, that if science does not agree with the Bible account of the beginnings of this world, then science is therefore wrong, and that it is impossible to have faith in God and support science at the same time."

"But that is not true. While science will probably never be able to fully explain the origins of this planet and the universe, it can prove, conclusively, that it did not happen as the Creationists would have us believe. Charles Darwin did not deny the Creation, but he saw it as the beginning of the evolution of man, not the beginning of the existence of man. But you only have to look around you at the wonders of nature, the wonders of what God has done, to have faith in Him."

"The only evidence offered by Pastor Mayotte in support of his belief that the Bible record of Creation is the truth, is that the Bible is the word of God and therefore the truth."

"But not even the Bible itself agrees with it! It contradicts itself on many occasions, it is inconsistent and, at times, totally without any contextually accurate validity. Even the church itself has conceded that its interpretation of the Bible account of Earth's relationship with the rest of the Universe was wrong. He also claims that written Biblical records going back a few thousand years, are more accurate than science gained by the use by mankind of some of the more important gifts from God, the power of reason, the want for more and better knowledge, and a sense of wonder."




Promises Pt. 04



"Pastor Mayotte claims that his church believes in the strict literal word of God, the Bible, but when we examined the narrative of Adam, Eve, Cain and Abel he claimed that Adam and Eve had many children before they had Abel's replacement, Seth. But the Bible makes no mention of any other children, and in fact it states quite categorically that Seth was Abel's replacement. At the very least this is an error of omission. Anyone who thought about this passage for more than a millisecond would come, quite logically, to the conclusion that if there were any other children between Abel and Seth, Adam and Eve would not have had to find a replacement and the Bible would have mentioned that fact."

"We also looked closely at the narrative of Noah and his Ark full of animals. This narrative defies the laws of nature on many levels, but Pastor Mayotte would have none of that. Carbon dating is nowhere near as accurate, according to him, as the Bible, even though physical evidence available to us can prove conclusively that the Earth has existed for much more than the ten thousand odd years that the Creationists still claim. That this event bears a striking resemblance to the 'Epic of Gilgamesh' and several other Middle Eastern inundation myths is no accident, the difference between these is that the Noah narrative has been made into a morality tale."

"Anyone with a modicum of intelligence can look at a photograph of the Grand Canyon, as an example, where, in six thousand or so years, the time it is claimed, from the creation of the Earth and including the time of Noah, the forces of nature are supposed to have built up hundreds of layers of sedimentary rock, over twelve hundred meters thick. These layers cannot have been created in a single event as the creationists claim, for two very good and provable reasons. Firstly for sedimentary rock to form from a single event, such as Noah's flood there would be a single mass not stratified layers, and secondly because in amongst these layers of sedimentary rock there are two layers that are of volcanic origin".

"So this could not have been formed by a single event but by successive deposits over many thousands, millions even, of years. Then, they claim, that a single event, the run-off of the receding flood, was enough for the river to erode its way back down to the basement rock. I don't think so!"

"If you can believe that in the face of compelling scientific evidence, as well as the evidence of your own eyes, then you are highly likely to fall prey to every con artist, charlatan and huckster going. The unwillingness to consider contrary evidence is the reason that so many people are conned. The Pentecostal church encourages that unwillingness. I'll leave it up to you to work out why they do that. They place their faith in the word of others without verifying that the data presented is the truth."

"If I, Joe Blow ordinary citizen, were to come up to you in the street and say to you, 'I have made the most amazing scientific discovery, black is white.' would you believe me? Of course not, the evidence of your own eyes tells you that it is not true, so you will not accept that statement is true unless there is solid, verifiable evidence to support it. But if I were to stand up in a church and represent myself to you as an 'awesome man of God' and say to you, 'God has revealed to me, therefore it must be true, that black is white.' You are expected to believe it without question. Call me crazy but I would expect you to seek out some very compelling supporting evidence before accepting my word as truth, not to just take my word for it. But that is exactly what this church expects, that you accept my word for it."

"I mentioned before that the difference between science and faith is that science is based on provable fact, while faith is a belief in the intangible in the face of fact."

"We looked at Moses and the magic horses that were killed twice but still managed to pull chariots, only to die for a third time when the waters of the Red Sea closed in over them."

"The lack of knowledge of astronomy was demonstrated when Joshua commanded the sun to 'stand still' when in fact the sun has always been stationary in its relative position with the Earth, the Earth spins on its axis and revolves around it, but he wasn't to know that."

"By using literal and contextually accurate Scripture we have been able to prove conclusively that the Bible simply cannot be the 'inerrant word of God' because it contains many errors and contradictions, and we all know that God is without error."

"We examined the so called 'Harmony of the Gospels' and have rightly come to the conclusion that the synoptic gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke lacked harmony, there being significant contradictions in chronology, and a lack of consistency between them in just about all of the event narratives. That is because they were written for different agendas, for different audiences. But Pastor Mayotte still insists that the Bible is without error of any kind, and that man played no part in its writing and compilation."

"We also looked at passages of Scripture that were never meant to be taken literally, from the allegorical Old Testament morality tales to the Parables of Jesus. If these passages were to be taken literally, as Pastor Mayotte and similar Pastors suggest they should be taken, the whole point of the exercise is lost. Literal application is scriptural laziness, it is easier to look at a literal passage and accept it to be true, without question, than to look at the spirit of the passage to find the true meaning. Think of how much you miss of what God is really saying." 

"Then we came to the contentious area of the Pentecostal worship practices, and their scriptural justification, only to find that all of them, each and every one of them, far from being a result of strict adherence to, and strict application of, contextually accurate Scripture, were based on a mixture of loose interpretation, and downright misinterpretation, of Scripture, not to put too fine a point on it, lies."

"Just because these practices have been in common usage for some time doesn't make them right, for without scriptural validation they are just a series of man-made rules governing worship practices, and where one law is superseded by later Scripture, as in the case of the tithe, you have to run with the later Scripture. As my client said in his testimony when he quoted Paul's Letter to the Romans Chapter 12, verse 2; 'Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is – His good, pleasing and perfect will'. Churches need worship practices, otherwise services would be a shambles, just as Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians observed, the use of 'tongues' by that church had created disorderly worship, a shambles. And Paul told the Corinthians in no uncertain terms that the practice of speaking in tongues did nothing to edify the church and therefore had no place in church. But for this church to claim that their worship practices are based on strict adherence to Scripture when they are not, is a falsehood."

"Nowhere in the Bible does it state that the practice of speaking in an unintelligible gobbledygook called glossolalia, or tongues, was a gift of the Spirit given to the disciples at Pentecost or to anyone else at any other time. The power given to the disciples was the ability to speak in languages that they did not know so that those in the room who spoke those languages could understand the message of God, so that they could open up the glory of God to the world. That is exactly what the Bible tells us, it is literal, it is unambiguous, and to teach otherwise is to teach an untruth."

"Nowhere in the Bible does it state categorically that you have to be baptized by 'full immersion', let alone have to emerge from the water speaking in 'tongues', as a demonstration of your receipt of the gifts of the 'Holy Spirit'. Baptism is, in fact, a Christian ritual, and the Christian church did not exist at the time of John the Baptist, which would suggest that is a subsequent inclusion to the Bible, and a man-made rule. There is some symbolism in use here, that of the priests cleansing themselves before they enter the inner sanctum of the temple, so in order that a person is cleansed of previous sin in preparation to receive the Holy Spirit, he or she should undergo a similar ritual is fair enough. But to say that this is done in obedience to Scripture is wrong."

"Nowhere in the Bible does it support the practice of people being 'slain by the Spirit' that is they are prayed over and then either fall to the ground in a faint, drop to the ground and writhe around or, and this is a goodie, I witnessed one of these charismatic 'healers', Benny Hinn, at work and people were flying around in gay abandon, he had just to touch them and they were flung back a good ten feet only to be dragged to their feet by a couple of refugees from the World Wrestling Fiasco and the process repeated. I was moved at the time to question what would happen if someone came forward for healing from say, a migraine, and he prayed over that person and he or she was flung backwards by the 'power of his healing word' and ended up with a fractured spine, becoming a quadriplegic, could that person sue Pastor Hinn for damages?"

 "Nowhere in the Bible does it tell us as Christians that we have to tithe. Paul, who is regarded as the founder of the Christian church, goes to some length to tell us that it was the Jews failure to obey the plethora of laws, and tithing was one such law put on them by the church, which led to the advent of Jesus."

"The tithe was introduced when Israel was a Theocracy, in other words the church was the state, and therefore the church collected taxes to look after the disadvantaged. At the time of Jesus the state was governed by the Romans, and the church was separated from the state, therefore those rules no longer applied, in fact Jesus criticized the church for their application of those laws when they were not using the collected monies for the purpose for which it was intended. How similar is that to the practice of this church?"

"Jesus came for two reasons. The first was to open up the relationship with God to all, Jews and Gentiles alike, to include all of mankind, to change from the exclusive relationship enjoyed by the Jews, who abused that relationship, to an inclusive relationship to be enjoyed by all. His teachings reflected this, his actions reflected this, the teachings of Paul reflected this, but this church's teachings do not reflect this. Jesus came to change it from a relationship which was controlled by the church to one which is personal, one where each of us has a direct line of communication with God."

"The second was to remove from us all the burden of obedience to those church imposed physical laws, and Jesus gave us just two with his Two Commandments which, when obeyed in the spirit, hold true in the physical. Obedience to physical laws does not necessarily equate to spiritual obedience. Paul also tells us that replacing Judaic Law with new Laws negates the reason that Jesus came onto this Earth, to use his words; 'Jesus came for nothing.' This is consistent with him telling us that all authority was put in place by God and that we are to obey that authority, a separation of church and state particularly as the tasks, for which the tithe was introduced, was now financed by taxes. Tithing was and is Judaic Law and nowhere in the New Testament does it say to us as Christians that we have to tithe. Tithing is a practice not a prerequisite. It is a request not a scriptural imperative."

"The Bible in fact tells us, as Christians, that we are to pay according to our abilities. The wealthy, who are able to contribute more, should pay more and those, who due to financial circumstances cannot pay a full tithe, should feel under no obligation to pay the full amount of the tithe. The church is quite happy to accept only the tithe from those members who can afford to pay much more, including Pastor Mayotte himself, while insisting that those who cannot afford to are bound to pay the tithe, placing them in financial hardship."

"The reason the tithe is used by churches is for the purpose of future financial planning. It gives them some sort of consistent basis on which to budget. It is important for that purpose, so to facilitate this, they require us to obey Judaic, not Christian, Law."

"They highlight the passage in the Old Testament book of Malachi which says that if the tithe is not delivered to the storehouse then that person is stealing from God. This, apart from being another example of 'instant coffee theology', is a dichotomy; it warns the person about stealing from God while the church is doing the same thing, presumably with impunity. This Scripture also tells us that, and I quote, 'So I will come near you for judgment. I will be quick to testify against sorcerers and perjurers, against those who defraud labourers of their wages, who oppress the widows and the fatherless, and deprive aliens of justice, 'but do not fear me,' says the Lord God Almighty.' Those who defraud labourers of their wages, those who make a false promise to the labourers, that they can increase their wages in return for a ten percent contribution. Hasn't this church done just that?" 

"We are told to 'bring the whole tithe into the storehouse,' they usually stop there, 'that there may be food in my house.' The tithe was meant to help the widows and orphans, so if it is not passed on to these people, those who received it in the name of God, are the ones robbing God."

"At the time of Jesus the tithe had become a symbolic gesture. The believers would come to the temple, and because the church would not accept Roman coins, coins that were needed for their everyday commerce, they had to change these coins for Temple coins. The money traders would place a premium on these transactions, to cover the permit fees that they paid to the church for the right to trade. The temple coins would either paid directly, as a tithe, or would be used to purchase a tithe offering, a dove. The church would them sell the coins back to the traders, presumably profiting from the transaction. This was what Jesus was railing against when he turned over the trading tables." 

"A church that receives the tithe, and is taking the money and using it to further its quest for more money and more power, when it should be using it to do God's work with the underprivileged, is surely a case of that church deceiving, not only God, but those people giving to the work of God. They are guilty of deceiving the very people who give them the money because, to entice their followers to pay this tithe, they dangle a carrot of the 'obedience to tithing leads to an increase in your finances' Prosperity Doctrine, using the passage from Malachi that if you tithe; 'and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that you will not have room enough for it'. Something that they have gone to great lengths to support with, what turns out to be contextually ambiguous Scripture, knowing that the promise made to its followers, that they claim to have made on behalf of God, were neither made by God, nor ever going to be honoured. What if, given that Jesus came as our spiritual, not physical, Messiah, the blessing spoken of in Malachi is spiritual rather than material? What if it had nothing to do with an unspecified increase in finances?"

"Now I don't know about you, but if someone lies to me, and encourages me with that lie, to invest money with a promise of a seven-fold increase on my investment, a 'get rich quick scheme', knowing that there is little possibility of that promise ever being met, then that person has committed a deception against me, and if that was a business man, or even an ordinary person, I could seek redress through a court of Law."

"Which brings us to the here and the now. We contend that this is the very situation that my client found himself in, the only difference being that the person who deceived him did it, he claims, as an agent of God. But God never, if you read the Scripture in context, made any of the promises of pecuniary reward that the defendant and his parent church claim that He made."

"Churches have a duty of care to only teach the truth and it is up to the teachers within the church to exercise that duty of care to ensure that what they teach is the truth. Just because a teaching has been used by the church for some time doesn't necessarily make it right, or the truth. Following orders is no excuse for failing to teach the truth, it is up to all teachers to ascertain what the truth is before they pass on any information to those that they teach."

"Therefore it is our contention that the promises were not made by God, or of God, but made by a greedy, avaricious, egoistic, and money grabbing organization that just happens to use a title to which it has no right, that of 'Christian' church."

"The primary motivation of this church, and others like it, is wealth, not welfare."

"Whenever I have heard an 'awesome man of God prophesying over a Pentecostal church, and I have heard this on a number of occasions, it has always been emphasized that the church would experience great wealth, never do great works, it seems to be a case of; 'Pro-fit not pro-phet'. If it was truly a church of God, one that obeyed God and not man, the motivations would be reversed."

"In several of these cases the church no longer exists. It went broke or was subsumed by a larger 'Mega church', one that was able to display a bigger and better 'blessed by God' façade."

"Many mainstream theologians in the US, the birthplace of this 'religion' say that the Prosperity Gospel, that cornerstone of this church, is at best a doctrinal error, in other words they are mistaken, and at worst a con game. The church could be forgiven if it was simply a mistake, but where the church profits massively from its doctrinal 'mistakes', I would have to suggest that this is a con game of monumental proportions, and should be treated as such by the law, the law that Paul tells us was put in place by God. Force these people to honour their promises and if that means seizing their assets to achieve this so be it."

"It is interesting to note that in the Pentecostal church there is more emphasis placed on marketing the product than actual theological understanding of the Scriptures. There is no better illustration of this than on the Internet. A 'Google' search of 'Pentecostal Theology' on the web results in less than a hundred web sites, not all of which support the 'prosperity doctrine' or the marketing methods employed by the church, for instance the use of 'chain' Emails where the people are told that if they break the chain all sorts of problems would befall them, has been condemned. A search of 'church marketing' results in almost a million, nine hundred and ninety one thousand at last count, such sites." 

"If we were to look objectively at the phenomena known as Pentecostalism, or the Evangelical Christian Church, (it used to be known as the 'Fundamental' Christian church but the word fundamental has been getting some bad press since September 11 so the marketing gurus changed the name) we will see that it is based on pure marketing. You have a product, in this case the Christian religion, that is languishing on the shelves in the local supermarket, so you dress it up to make the package more attractive to the consumer, it is placed at eye level, on television where it can gain maximum exposure, then you hire a spruiker to 'push' the product. The best person for the job would come, not from a theological background, or a teaching background, but from a marketing background, a person with, as I have heard described, 'charisma that sells'."




Promises Pt. 04



"I might ruffle a few feathers here, but one of the things that you do not want in this person is intelligence, because if he was intelligent he would see right through the pitch and realize the product was too good to be true. Actually, I hesitate to suggest this but, if a Pentecostal Pastor is from a teaching or similar background, then that person should be doubly cursed because he has the intelligence to see through the rhetoric but chooses to ignore it because of the financial rewards involved."

"Having found this marketing person who has that 'charisma that sells', you teach him the sales pitch, you drum it into him so thoroughly that he can spruik it with sincerity."

"This package trades on one of the most powerful weaknesses known to Mankind, greed. It places a time limit on the offer, the 'End Times', it creates a need and fulfils that need. But it is not content with merely having a need met. No, it then creates a want or desire for much more, and fulfils that with the set of ubiquitous steak knives, the promise of something for nothing, the promise of an increase in fortune. And the whole package is marketed as a promise from God."

"But that is where the credibility is lost; God promises no such thing! He promises to meet our needs. Jesus came to fulfil our spiritual needs, not to fulfil our greedy desires. We should be satisfied with having our needs met."

"In a 'Free Market Economy' it is not enough to merely provide our needs. A want has to be created in order to grow. The church uses our desire for wants to be met, so that its want for financial growth is fulfilled; more money equals more power equals even more money and power, etcetera, ad infinitum."

"Your Honour, members of the jury, for every Scripture, every scrap of instant coffee theology, cited by the Shining Light Christian Church, and other similar churches, in support of its ideology, we have cited contextually accurate, contradicting Scripture."

"The leaders of the Shining Light Christian Church practice the very things that their spiritual leader, Jesus Christ the 'Son of God' criticized so strongly. I would again like to read a passage, the passage is again the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 23, also known as the 'Woes', this time I'll read from the Message Bible, only because it sets it out in plain speak, and it tells it more eloquently than I could ever hope to."

"'The religion scholars and Pharisees are competent teachers in God's Law. You won't go wrong in following their teachings on Moses. But be careful about following them. They talk a good line, but they don't live it. They don't take it into their hearts and live it out in their behaviour. It's all spit-and-polish veneer.'

'Instead of giving you God's Law as food and drink by which you can banquet on God, they package it in bundles of rules, loading you down like pack animals. They seem to take pleasure in watching you stagger under these loads, and wouldn't think of lifting a finger to help. Their lives are perpetual fashion shows, embroidered prayer shawls one day and flowery prayers the next. They love to sit at the head table at church dinners, basking in the most prominent positions, preening in the radiance of public flattery, receiving honorary degrees, and getting called 'Doctor' and 'Reverend.'

'Don't let people do that to you, put you on a pedestal like that. You all have a single Teacher, and you are all classmates. Don't set people up as experts over your life, letting them tell you what to do. Save that authority for God; let him tell you what to do. No-one else should carry the title of 'Father'; you have only one Father, and he's in heaven. And don't let people manoeuvre you into taking charge of them. There is only one Life-Leader for you and them – Christ.'

'Do you want to stand out? Then step down. Be a servant. If you puff yourself up, you'll get the wind knocked out of you. But if you're content to simply be yourself, your life will count for plenty.'

'Frauds!'

'I've had it with you! You're hopeless, you religious scholars, you Pharisees! Frauds! Your lives are roadblocks to God's kingdom. You refuse to enter, and won't let anyone else in either.'

'You're hopeless, you religious scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You go halfway around the world to make a convert, but once you get him you make him into a replica of yourselves, double-damned.'

'You're hopeless! What arrogant stupidity! You say, 'If someone makes a promise with his fingers crossed, that's nothing, but if he swears with his hand on the Bible, that's serious.' What ignorance! Does the leather on the Bible carry more weight than the skin on your hands? And what about this piece of trivia: 'If you shake hands on a promise that's nothing; but if you raised your hand that God is your witness, that's serious'? What ridiculous hair-splitting! What difference does it make whether you shake hands or raise hands? A promise is a promise. What difference if you make your promise inside or outside a house of worship? A promise is a promise. God is present, watching and holding you accountable regardless.'

'You're hopeless, you religious scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You keep meticulous account books, tithing on every nickel and dime you get, but on the meat of God's Law, things like fairness and compassion and commitment – absolute basics! – you carelessly take it or leave it. Careful bookkeeping is commendable, but the basics are required. Do you have any idea how silly you look, writing a life story that's wrong from start to finish, nitpicking over commas and semicolons?'

'You're hopeless, you religious scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You burnish the surface of your cups so they sparkle in the sun, while the insides are maggoty with your greed and gluttony: Stupid Pharisee! Scour the insides, and then the gleaming surface will mean something.'

'You're hopeless, you religious scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You're like manicured graves, grass clipped and flowers bright, but six feet down it's rotting bones and worm-eaten flesh. People look at you and think you're saints, but beneath the skin you're total Frauds.'

'You're hopeless, you religious scholars and Pharisees! Frauds! You build granite tombs for your prophets and marble monuments for your saints. And you say that if you had lived in the days of your ancestors, no blood would have been on your hands. You protest too much! You're cut from the same cloth as those murderers, and daily add to the death count.'

'Snakes! Reptilian sneaks! Do you think you can worm your way out of this? Never having to pay the piper? It's on account of people like you that I send prophets and wise guides and scholars generation after generation – and generation after generation you treat them like dirt, greeting them with lynch mobs, hounding them with abuse.'

'You can't squirm out of this: Every drop of righteous blood ever spilled on this earth, beginning with the blood of the good man Abel right down to the blood of Zechariah, Barachiah's son, whom you murdered at his prayers, is on your head. All this, I'm telling you, is coming down on you, on your generation.'

'Jerusalem! Jerusalem! Murderer of prophets! Killer of the ones who brought you God's news! How often I've ached to embrace your children, the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, and you wouldn't let me. And now you're so desolate, nothing but a ghost town. What is there left to say? Only this; I'm out of here soon. The next time you see me you'll say, 'Oh, God has blessed him! He's come, bringing God's rule!'"

"Every single one of those things that Jesus found abhorrent in the church of his time this church practices today! Every single one of them is true of the Shining Light Christian Church and other similar churches! And they have the audacity to call themselves Christians when they practice the very things that Jesus reserved his strongest criticism for!"

"Think about this Pastor Mayotte, everything that you do is for show, for the show called church. Speaking in tongues, not scriptural, just a part of the show called church. Full immersion baptism, not supported scripturally, it is a public affirmation of a previously made decision, not as you claim an earth shattering moment, just another part of the show called church. And what about tithing? As Christians we are not obliged to tithe, Paul tells us this. We pay taxes to the authorities put in place by God to do the work previously carried out by the church. So why should we pay tithes, especially if we place ourselves in financial hardship to do so? Purely for budgetary reasons. Tithing is so that the church can have some idea of its future cash inflow. Tithing is yet another part of the show called church, part of man's rules, not God's" 

"If you were to look closely at the life of Jesus you would see something quite disturbing. Because of his work with the poor and downtrodden, because of his healings, his fame was growing, he had become a victim of the cult of personality. As it tells us in this Scripture, 'Do you want to stand out? Then step down. Be a servant. If you puff yourself up, you'll get the wind knocked out of you. But if you're content to simply be yourself, your life will count for plenty.' Jesus saw his fame getting in the way of his work so he had to step down, allow himself to be crucified. Do you honestly believe that he, of all people, couldn't have avoided crucifixion? But in the Pentecostal church the 'cult of personality' is rife. The churches are built on it, the churches thrive on it."

"Think about this; 'Your lives are roadblocks to God's kingdom. You refuse to enter, and won't let anyone else in either.' You interpret the Bible to suit your agenda and if someone challenges that interpretation you will not countenance that challenge. 'It is wrong!' you say, 'End of story!' you say. 'It's on account of people like you that I send prophets and wise guides and scholars generation after generation – and generation after generation you treat them like dirt, greeting them with lynch mobs, hounding them with abuse.' If someone comes along and tells you that you just might be wrong in what you are doing, you rise up against that person, without giving a thought as to whether that person is right or not. You are right! End of story."

"So it is with the promises that you have made, you claim that they are from God, but if anyone has the unmitigated gall to tell you that they are not God's promises, the lynch mob appears."

"If you shake hands on a promise that's nothing; but if you raised your hand that God is your witness, that's serious'? What ridiculous hair-splitting! What difference does it make whether you shake hands or raise hands? A promise is a promise. What difference if you make your promise inside or outside a house of worship? A promise is a promise. God is present, watching and holding you accountable regardless. God is everywhere, he sees all, he hears all."

"Jesus was critical of the greed and hypocrisy that existed within the church of his time. That same greed and hypocrisy is extant in the church of our time and no more so than the Shining Light Christian Church and other similar churches that follow the 'Prosperity Doctrine'."

"'You burnish the surface of your cups so they sparkle in the sun, while the insides are maggoty with your greed and gluttony: Stupid Pharisee! Scour the insides, and then the gleaming surface will mean something.' Is there a difference between the burnished outside of the cup and the 'Blessed by God' façade of the Shining Light Christian Church? No!"

"In his evidence my client stated that his business success was because he built a substantial product. He employed contractors over a long period of time, men that he could trust, and they did not betray that trust. He set a reasonable price for the houses that he built, a price that would give him a modest and comfortable return on his investment. His houses were always sold before completion because of his reputation for business and structural integrity. He also stated that when Pastor Mayotte and other Pastors in the church approached him to carry out work for them, he refused because they wanted something that, in their words, 'it didn't matter how it was built as long as it looked good'. This attitude is synonymous with this church's ideology, structural integrity is not important, just so long as it looks good." 

"Jesus was crucified, not for claiming to be the 'Son of God', or that he was the 'King of the Jews', but because of his criticism of the church. He was branded a heretic because of his criticism of the church. My client, while not claiming to be Jesus, has been metaphorically crucified because of his criticism of the church. Just as Jesus was justified in his criticism of the church, we contend that my client had every justification for his criticism of this church."  

"For every Scripture, every bit of instant coffee theology, cited by the Shining Light Christian Church, and other similar churches, in support of its 'Prosperity Doctrine', we have cited contextually accurate, contradictory Scripture."

"For every Scripture, every bit of instant coffee theology, cited by the Shining Light Christian Church, and other similar churches, in support of its worship practices of speaking in tongues, tithing and full immersion baptism, we have demonstrated that the Scripture was either mis-interpreted, taken out of context, or contradicted by other Scripture."

"In short we have demonstrated, conclusively, that this church has not only broken its promises to its people, it has broken the laws put in place by the authorities of this country, the authorities that the Bible tells us were put in place by God, and on top of that it has broken God's laws when it mis-represented Scripture, distorted Scripture, for its own venal benefit, for profit."

"If you shake hands on a promise that's nothing; but if you raised your hand that God is your witness, that's serious'? What ridiculous hair-splitting! What difference does it make whether you shake hands or raise hands? A promise is a promise. What difference if you make your promise inside or outside a house of worship? A promise is a promise. God is present, watching and holding you accountable regardless."

"Your Honour, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we hold that this church is accountable for the promises it made. We have proven conclusively that the promises made by this church, the promise of an increase in my client's finances as a reward for diligent tithing, and the threat of punishment for non-compliance, were not, as the church asserts, God's promises, because there is absolutely no credible scriptural evidence, no unambiguous Scripture, to support that assertion. It is their own promise, and they alone are responsible for honouring those promises. They alone should be held accountable for those promises."

"The church could argue that my client should have known better. But there was no transparency in its teaching, the church actively discouraged the seeking of truth, actually concealed the truth, not only from my client but all others who attended the church. 'Your lives are roadblocks to God's kingdom. You refuse to enter, and won't let anyone else in either.'"

"This church will probably claim that if there is a sin involved it is a sin against God and that they will be judged when they get to heaven, if they get there. Big deal! That doesn't help the people that they are hurting in the here and now. Where I ask, is their unconditional love? We contend however, that while they have sinned against God, because they have sinned against the authorities put in place by God, they have also sinned against man. It is this secular sin that concerns us in this court and it is a secular judgment that we seek. In the matter of a spiritual judgment, that is between Pastor Mayotte, his church, and God. This court has no jurisdiction in that arena, and we do not seek a judgment in that arena."

"Your honour, the Shining Light Christian Church is an Assemblies of God business franchise, and the Assemblies of God church is, in turn, a franchisee of the Pentecostal church. It is a business enterprise that uses some, but by no means all, of the teachings of Jesus to justify its 'Christian church' status for taxation purposes, but its real purpose is the pursuit of commercial gain. In pursuit of that gain it uses business practices that, if it didn't hide behind its Christian church status, would have found it in contravention of many trade practices, and under the scrutiny of the relevant legislative authorities." 

"Your Honour, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it is our contention that you have no course of action open to you other than to find in favour of my client and award damages accordingly." Henderson sat down and looked across to the defendant's table. It was populated by some unhappy people. 

Johansson slowly got to his feet. "Your Honour, I have to admit that I am impressed by the Counsel for the Plaintiff's faith, just as I am impressed by my client's faith. The difference between them is that Mr Henderson's faith is based on his interpretation of the Bible. Pastor Mayotte on the other hand, has based his faith on the literal Bible, the Word of God, the true word of God. According to some people, in particular the members of the media here assembled, I should just walk out the door and abandon my client to his fate. But I'm not going to do that and do you know why? Because my client is an honourable man who believes in what he does and does what he believes in. This he does to the best of his ability. He is a deeply religious man and there are those among the people here who would condemn him for that. He is a very devout Christian and there are those here who would condemn him for that. He has faith in what he does and there are those here who would condemn him for that. He has faith in the teachings of his church, and there are those here who would condemn him for that. These are just a few of the reasons that those here would condemn my client but, at another time and under different circumstances, those same people would hold my client up as an example of all that is good in this world."

"So what is the difference? It all depends on attitude. Your attitude to people, and what they do, very much guides how you view that person. Your attitude to yourself and what you do very much guides how you view other people. If your attitude to people does not agree with your attitude to yourself then there is a problem, for no matter what that person does, what that person stands for, you will always view him with disdain, with scepticism, even hatred and loathing. That person may not have done anything wrong but in your eyes, simply because of how you view the world around you, that person is guilty."

"There is no denying that Pastor Mayotte may not be the most intelligent man in the world, he hasn't, as the learned council for the Plaintiff has, a Doctorate in Theology. There is no denying that Pastor Mayotte may not be the most inquisitive man in the world. But the man you see before you today is one of the most loyal, trusting, faithful and consistent people that you will ever meet. It may be true that he didn't question the teachings of the Pentecostal church, because he has placed his trust in a church of God. He is not alone there. Many, many millions of people have trusted a church of God. It may be true that, in hindsight, he should have questioned the teachings, but he had been led to believe by the church that he would be doing the wrong thing if he did so."

"My client is guilty of nothing more than a misplaced trust in a higher authority within the church. This is not something that is confined to the Pentecostal branch of the church, other churches issue edicts that not all of its clergy and officials agree with, but they have to obey those edicts, for if they do not they risk serious repercussions. Other churches may also be guilty of practices that are abhorrent in our eyes. So, my client, Pastor Matthew Mayotte, if my learned friend opposite has proven his case, is a victim of that same monumental con game. He could be said to have been stupid because he was merely following the teachings that had been promulgated by a higher authority, namely his parent church in the United States, but being stupid is not a crime, and on that basis I would ask that you find that my client has no case to answer and that the plaintiff should take the matter up with that higher authority, the parent church."




Promises Pt. 04



As Johansson sat down Bill walked into the courtroom and handed a note to Henderson. Henderson rose and addressed the Judge. "Your Honour, the higher authority that Mister Johansson just mentioned, in the person of one Pastor Calvin Coolidge Jones has just been arrested by the police in Brisbane trying to flee the country, and he has been charged on a police warrant with the murder of Cynthia Mayotte. It seems that he was using a false passport, in the name of Harlan Sanders, the founder of KFC, and had taken a circuitous route in an attempt to avoid apprehension. The police have seized certain items that they allege tie him into the crime, and have information from various sources that further point to his guilt."

"While this news should have little effect on the outcome of this case, it further strengthens our contention that Pastor Mayotte should have questioned his higher authority." There was uproar in the courtroom as the media contingent ignored the court ruling and used their mobile phones to check whether they should stay with the case or follow up on the announcement.

Judge Foley banged his gavel repeatedly and, for a time at least, ineffectually, calling for order. It was eventually restored. "I am going to adjourn this court while I consider the evidence in this matter. Because I need some time to go over the transcripts and prepare my direction statement to the jury, we will resume again on Monday at 10:00 am. This court is hereby adjourned." The gavel had a finality about the way it hit the block. Everyone rose as Foley exited the court through the door behind the bench.

"What are our chances?" Frank asked Michael.

"I think we are going to win. Foley gave us a pretty good hearing and I don't think that Mayotte handled the questions with any sort of confidence, he had to resort to his claims of scriptural authenticity and faith in his teaching."

"You don't think you were a little too hard on him, do you?"

"Actually I don't think that I was hard enough. His own counsel was pretty hard on him, branding him stupid. I get the impression that Johansson has already come to the conclusion that Mayotte made the promises, not God. He gave Mayotte the best possible, the only defence, available to him. People like Mayotte who are in a position such as his purely for the money should be treated with the utmost contempt. They have destroyed the lives of thousands of trusting people, they have condemned even more to entrapment in the poverty cycle by their insistence on those people who can least afford it contributing to their wealth. If Pastor Mayotte wanted, deserved, my sympathy he would have had to earn it by, at the very least, giving some thought to any counter argument instead of insisting, without thinking, that he was a hundred percent right. No-one especially not me, can be a hundred percent right a hundred percent of the time. One of my tenets that I live by is that the day that I lose my desire to learn, the day that I think that I know it all, that is the day to shuffle off this mortal coil, because there is nothing more to live for. The same philosophy goes for a sense of humour, lose your sense of humour and life becomes a dull, lifeless and unbearable existence, not something that I fancy at all."

As they left the court the media circus was in full swing. Mayotte was facing a barrage of questions. Janine was hovering in the background and Henderson walked over to her, a move that was noted by both Mayotte and Fenton. "Who would have thought it would turn out like this?"

"I never trusted the man. It was him who came up with the idea for me to try and seduce you. I knew that it wouldn't work but there was no telling him, it was almost as if he thought that we were a third world country and was treating us as idiots."

"Do you think that we could get together and discuss what will happen when this is over?"

"I would love to, but, I really have to stand by him for the moment at least, but when this is over I would love us to get together."



Chapter 10: The wash up

Sunday morning: 

"I hope that they can enjoy their ill-gotten gains, unlike Judas Iscariot who became so remorseful and wracked with guilt over his betrayal of Christ that he took his own life."

The music team at the Shining Light Christian Church were nothing if not professionals. They sang and played their way through the mandatory forty-five minutes of up-tempo choruses with unmatched enthusiasm. The newcomer to the church, and there were many people whose curiosity had been aroused by the court case, could have been forgiven for thinking that nothing had happened over the last week or so in the life of this church.

Mayotte walked up onto the platform and silence descended on the auditorium. "My people, I am not understating the situation when I say that the last couple of weeks has really tested my faith, my faith in God and the Lord Jesus Christ, my faith in my fellow man, all have become a burden on my shoulders. My friends I now understand exactly how Job must have felt. One minute the world was perfect then in the blink of an eye it all came crashing down."

"As you know I have lost my wife, she was taken from me in tragic circumstance, and there is a huge part of my life that is now empty. The man that I had faith in, the leader of our parent church, Pastor Calvin Coolidge Jones has been taken into custody in relation to the death of my Cynthia. I know in my heart that he couldn't have killed her, but it has been alleged that he either killed her or arranged for her death. I don't know why the police think this, but I'm sure that we will find out eventually."

"Tomorrow is not a day that I look forward to with any confidence at all. If the Judge had been a strong Christian he would have seen through the deceitful way that the questions that I was asked were formulated so that, no matter what answer I gave it would have sounded to the unchurched to be wrong. The media have pounced like a flock of vultures onto my predicament, glorying in the opportunity to sell more newspapers and air-time on television. I have even been informed that these mercenaries of the media have syndicated these news stories and commentaries world-wide. I hope that they can enjoy their ill-gotten gains, unlike Judas Iscariot who became so remorseful and wracked with guilt over his betrayal of Christ that he took his own life."

"My friends I think that we should join together in prayer, let us raise the roof of this church and claim a victory for God! Let us shout our demands for justice to the heavens so that God can hear us united as one! God will answer our prayers, Victory will be His, victory will be ours!

'Patahayemlaguwintpolitsonemistuardefintasquantifastuscaluntjongularesgoflintaxokla, mundetbignastiumduntolcedminustarwistacureglobimestudefroigudestotristoplamgrid, losethhigmostifvurthoslungedivomursydlomestinfregunlovtjisdrikgjusmpitklestraniuch, fravilogijabuyhesdikplistewuvhjbzujfrucrudjesaklumwutzokvichujksaxlosmikgastwok, limasvuhsk. In the name of God I claim victory tomorrow!"

The sheep all stopped praying at the same time and a huge cheer erupted through the crowd, they were on his side. Fenton was not. Fenton had his plans dashed with the death of Cynthia. His plans to take over this church and create it into his own empire had been cruelly dashed by the wanton act of violence that saw his beloved Cynthia shot down in cold blood when she answered the door of her own home. His visions of himself preaching with the same fervour as Mayotte had shown in his prime, with Cynthia seated in pride of place in the front row looking up to him, in the physical as well as spiritual sense, were gone, and it was all Mayotte's fault.

The Mayotte of today was the Mayotte of old, strutting about the stage like a caged lion, snarling at the media for not giving him a fair go, snarling at the media for not giving God a fair go, snarling at Henderson for questioning his beliefs, his faith, his ideology. He snatched fragments of Scripture out of the air to justify his position and threw them back out into the air in a show of defiance, daring his opponents to challenge his faith, his knowledge and understanding of Scripture. What he said, he shouted, was 'Biblical' and therefore true, and he grabbed them to himself and threw them away with a newfound speed, making it impossible for anyone to keep up with, but hell it sounded good! It felt good! It was good to be back in control, back on safe ground! The up swelling of support lifted his feelings to a level that he had not known for some time, except for those times that he spent alone with Janine. What was it she wanted to tell him? She had said that it was important but that it would have to wait until after the trial result was made public. She said that it was personal and for him only. What was it?

The service finished with the usual rendering of a couple of choruses, but this service was different. There was a spontaneous 'altar call', dozens of people came forward and wanted to join hands with him and pray for his success tomorrow. Mayotte was overwhelmed by the show of support. He looked around, and noticed Janine standing off to one side with that look on her face that spoke of her affection for him, her love for him, and he felt better than he had felt for a long time. Behind her stood Fenton, and his feeling of well being came crashing down. The hatred in Fenton's eyes was palpable, the disappointment in Fenton's eyes was obvious, and the anger in Fenton's eyes spoke of revenge.

Mayotte moved through the crowd of well-wishers to the 'New Friends Lounge' where he was met by Janine with a cup of coffee. He sipped it and marvelled at how she always made it just as he liked it, something that Cynthia never quite perfected. "You were great up there today." Their fingers brushed together as she handed him the cup and he felt a tingle run through him, the doubts that had troubled him since he saw Henderson talking to her on Friday night slipped into the background, but not entirely from sight.

"Thank you. Do you have to rush off this morning?"

"I was going to see Mum for lunch, but if you want me to stay I'll ring her and reschedule it to another day."

"Thank you, please do. I need you so much right now." He worked the room as normal, moving from person to new person asking them about themselves, shaking hands and personally presenting them with a welcome pack.

The crowd dispersed, the takings for the day had been counted and placed in the safe ready for banking tomorrow. The team had cleared the chairs from the auditorium ready for the cleaners to come through during the afternoon. Mayotte sat on the sofa in his office. Janine sat on the sofa in his office. They held hands, they kissed. "What is it you have to tell me?"

"Please be patient, don't worry it's good news, in fact it is really good news." They sat there for some time while Janine comforted him and fended off his demands for her to reveal her secret to him. They then left and drove, individually for appearance' sake, to the other side of the city where they hoped to be able to have lunch in peace without being recognized. It didn't work, his celebrity status taking care of that. Janine noticed that during the meal Matthew did not seem the be the person who, not an hour ago strutted the stage exhorting the congregation to support him, whipping them into paroxysms of enthusiastic support, exuding such confidence that she was convinced that he was confident of success in the court case. 

They did manage to have a meal of sorts before driving, separately, back to Janine's small apartment. Janine could sense that something was bothering Matthew.

"Did you tell Henderson that Matt didn't have cancer?" Mayotte's face was within inches of Janine's but it wasn't there because of love, it was very much confrontational.

"No! How could you think such a thing?"

"Don't fucking lie to me! Who else would have told him?"

"I don't know, all that I know is that it certainly wasn't me." Janine was calmness personified, she felt that by remaining calm she could defuse the situation before it got completely out of hand.

Mayotte grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "How can I be sure of that, after all you did spend the night with him? For all I know he fucked you and you let him, you enjoyed it. And the next morning you lied to me when you told me that you had slept in. And just what were you talking about on Friday after court? Were you arranging to get together for another night? Who's place will it be this time, yours or his? How do I know that you aren't lying to me now, how do I know that you didn't tell him about Matt, or about other things? How can I ever trust you again?"

It took all of Janine's willpower to remain calm in the face of this attack. "I didn't tell him anything. I told him nothing, I did nothing. Look it isn't rocket science, anyone looking at Matt would realize that there was absolutely no way that he could have been afflicted by the disease that he claimed, there was no weight loss, no chemo induced baldness and apart from him taking himself off for treatment, on his own, there was nothing to back-up his claims, no medical evidence. If someone hadn't blown the whistle when they did you and the church would be in even more strife than it is now. Someone has been feeding Henderson information, he doesn't know who it is but he suspects Pastor Fenton. He hasn't used all of the information that he has, surplus to requirements he said. He hasn't gone to the media with all of the information that he has. The media would hammer the fact that you, a so-called man of God, had not been warned by God of Matt's deception. As for Friday, he just said that Pastor Jones having been arrested couldn't have happened to a nicer bloke, he knew, he had guessed, that Jones was behind the plan for me to seduce him."

"Please tell me that you didn't make love, no that's not the term, have sex with him."

"Matthew! This is ridiculous! Yes I spent the night with him but I didn't make love to him, I didn't have sex with him. I just needed someone to talk to, someone that I wasn't close to, someone who could look at my problem from a different perspective. Nothing happened that could affect the way that I feel about you, I wish that you would believe that."

"I want very much to believe you. I want to feel that I can trust you, of all people, in everything." He bowed his head and stared at the pattern in the rug on the floor. He was waiting for her to come to him, to comfort him, offer her sympathy to him, to feel her touch on him, to feel her love flowing through him. He stopped waiting and looked at her, into her sad eyes. "I'm sorry if I shouted at you, it's just that I'm scared, scared of losing this case and scared of losing you." He held his head in his hands and his body shuddered as the tears flowed.

Janine looked at him and realized that this was not the man that had taken her from her previous life and shown such compassion. How could this man accuse her of having sex with Henderson? Was this a sign of his love? Her answer had to be 'no'. The news that she was about to break to him was going to hurt him even more than he already was. She steeled herself for his reaction, took a deep breath and in her calmest voice, spoke the words that she had been putting off for some time. "Matthew, I'm pregnant. We are going to have a baby."

"What!" His head snapped up and he stared at her in dis-belief. "Tell me it isn't true! This is all that I need what with all that is happening to me right now all I need is to be told that you are pregnant." He had lost control, his anger frightening her, momentarily. Janine stood firmly in front of him. "How could this be? I thought that you had taken precautions against this sort of thing happening."

"I thought that you'd be happy." His reaction confirmed her realization that Matthew was not the man, the strong man, that she had fallen in love with, had wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

"Of course I'm happy, just a little surprised, that's all. What am I going to do?" Mayotte had missed his chance, his concern was mis-directed and had come too late, and then he was questioning their next move, the implication being that he didn't want the child.

"What do you mean, 'how could this be?' What do you mean, 'what am I going to do?' There are two of us involved in this, you and me, and a third, our unborn child. This is a 'we' situation Matthew, not a 'you' situation. Do you want this child, our child, or not?"

"I do." Mayotte realized too late that he had said the wrong thing and was playing catch up. "But think of the implications of this, I was still married when this child was conceived, and the church can count, they will realize that fact and where would I be? How could I explain that?"

"Tell them it was a miracle. I'm sorry I didn't mean that, it just slipped out. I was right in thinking this would be your reaction. I have given this considerable thought since the pregnancy was confirmed and, as I see it, we, I, have three alternatives. I can have an abortion, but you would have to help me with the money for that. I could go off somewhere and have this baby, on my own, and raise it, on my own. I would have to ask you for Child Support. The last choice, and the one least attractive to you, is that I should have the child, you accept your parental role and we face the church together and beg them for their understanding."

"There must be some other solution."

"I can't think of any other."

Silence descended on them. For Janine the disappointment was real, the man who she had idolized for the past year had let her down, his reaction spoke of his selfish reasoning, thinking of himself first, could she ever compete with him for his love. 

For Mayotte, he felt betrayal. He had assumed that Janine would have taken the necessary precautions to ensure that this would not happen. How could he explain it away? He could not stand before the congregation and admit to his sin of the flesh. That would see the end of his career as a Pastor, something that he was not yet prepared to consider. But what was the alternative?

After some several tense minutes Mayotte jolted upright. "Please tell me that you didn't mention this to Henderson."

"He guessed, and yes, we did discuss it. He was very helpful."

"I bet he was! I can see him now, chuckling to himself and plotting where and when he can broadcast the news! Do you realize that everything that I have worked for is in ruins and it's all because of you? I felt sorry for you, and felt that I had to save you from the world that you were trapped in, and how do you repay my concern? You betray me to the enemy!"

"Matthew! Be reasonable, please." Her voice became deliberately quiet. "If Henderson had wanted to use this he would have done so already, he's an honourable man whether you like him or not. I never meant for any of this to happen, and I do appreciate everything that you have done for me. I don't know how I got pregnant, I was on the pill, and have never had problems before, but what you need to realize is that you were a willing participant in this, I didn't force you to love me, make love to me."

"So all of this is my fault is it?"

"No, I didn't mean it that way. Look, he has known this for days and hasn't mentioned it to anyone because he looks on this as a personal matter, not something to be aired in public."

Silence descended on them once more, both feeling that their individual worlds were about to come crashing down around their ears. Sometime later it was a subdued Mayotte who left in time to drive home and have a bite to eat before going to the church for the evening service.

Seated in a car some 50 meters from where Mayotte's BMW had been, a man watched as its brake lights glowed briefly as it braked at the intersection before turning left and disappearing from sight.




Promises, Rules and Their Breaking



Thou shalt not date anyone for six months.

Thou shalt not go out with Robbie.

Thou shalt remember the hotel's policy on fraternising with guests and keep it wholly.

Thou shalt stay away from guys who are 'involved'.

Thou shalt never, ever, ever fuck on first dates.

Thou shalt avoid college guys.

Thou shalt not tolerate infidelity.

Thou shalt stay well away from that ass hole, Finn.

Ok, thought Ellie, so those were the rules and she'd broken them all. All except one, and that one was about to go too. She was looking at her reflection and reflecting on how events had led her to this. She must be every kind of fool.

It had all started when Robbie moved into the hotel...

* * * * *

"Good morning! What can I get you?" Ellie asked. The customer was sat alone and ignoring the menu so she figured he knew what he wanted.

"Coffee first. Strong and black."

"Anything to eat?"

"Can you read the breakfast menu to me?" He asked. It was an odd enough request to snap Ellie out of autopilot and actually get her to pay attention. That was when she noticed the white stick.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't see... err... I didn't realize. One moment please."

"Sure." Far from being upset at her reaction, the blind customer seemed wryly amused.

Ellie dashed off to get his coffee.

"Annette, I've just really put my foot in it." She hissed to her co-worker as she collected a cup and saucer and a jug of coffee. Her head gestured in the direction of the lone customer.

"Oh, him." Annette glanced over the counter. "He was in here yesterday. Do you want me to serve him?" She could see Ellie was a bit flustered.

"No, its ok. It just caught me by surprise."

"Ok. Don't overfill his cup."

"Coffee, black and strong." Ellie placed the cup in front of him and poured three quarters of a cup of coffee then set the jug down and picked up the menu.

"Thank you." He fumbled for the sugar bowl, found it and picked out two sachets.

"Do you really want me to read the whole menu to you? It's pretty extensive. It'd be quicker to just tell me what you want. I bet we can do it for you." Ellie was just a little self conscious about her reading voice.

"Blueberry pancakes?" He asked, hopefully.

"No problem. It'll take a few minutes." Ellie set the menu back on the table.

"I have lots of time." He smiled up at her. It was really disconcerting having a blind guy turn to face her like that.

"Your pancakes, sir. Enjoy your breakfast."

"Thank you. Can I have some more coffee?"

"Sure." Ellie disappeared to deliver two other breakfast orders then picked up the coffee pots and did the rounds, topping up everybody's cups.

"Can I get you anything else?" Ellie cleared away his plate.

"No, thank you." He handed her a hotel key card. "Just add 20% and charge it to my room please."

"Thank you." Ellie was relieved that her bad reaction had apparently been overlooked (she winced at the thought of how she'd phrased that). At least, 20% said he wasn't pissed at her.

"Thank you... May I ask your name?" He was so polite.

"Ellie."

"I'm Robbie."

"There's your key back, Robbie. Have a nice day."

* * * * *

That afternoon, the concierge brought the coffee shop a Braille menu because 'a guest' had asked for one to be made available. Ellie had to pay more attention. How come she hadn't noticed which room Robbie's key card was for? Room? Suite! And not just any suit: The Sodom and Gomorrah Suite, as the staff called it, was permanently leased to one Eric Kruppa, probably the most notorious Harvard Alumnus ever. No wonder the management had produced a Braille menu so quickly.

* * * * *

Eric Kruppa was a very good customer of the hotel but they were careful not to advertise his permanent guest status. Mr Kruppa was aware of their discomfort and didn't do anything to tarnish the hotel's reputation. It's not as if he was even there all that often: Mostly, his suite was empty, but even when Mt Kruppa was in residence, he was not unreasonable. His lifestyle and career choice not withstanding, most people who'd met him liked Eric. Ellie hadn't met him and didn't want to be judgemental. But she had met Mr Kruppa's two girlfriends -- and, arguably, the two main reasons he was so notorious -- Helen and B. They were occasional customers in the coffee shop and Jonathon, the concierge, had delighted in pointing out the two girls whose 'punanis are all over the walls of the Sodom and Gomorrah Suite'. Well, Ellie had had to admit to herself that they were certainly beautiful. From the chambermaids' gossip, she knew about the pictures Jonathon had mentioned. Some of the chambermaids had refused to do that suite because of the pictures. The management had quietly moved those maids to other floors and replaced them with staff that didn't object to Mr Kruppa's 'art'.

Mr Kruppa had heard about it, somehow, and contacted the manager to insist that the chambermaids assigned to his suite should be paid double time and that it was to be added to his bill. That was typical 'Eric Kruppa': He was generous and liked using his money to make a point. The only staff trouble since then had been when one of the maids had been spotted with a camera. She'd been taking pictures of Eric's pictures, reportedly to show her boyfriend, more probably to sell online. She got fired and everyone got reminded that Mr Kruppa's privacy was a matter of hotel policy and a service he paid them generously for.

Ellie didn't like Jonathon at all. He was always trying to peek down her top. So, to get him in a little hot water, she asked the two alleged models if it was true they were the girls in those infamous pictures?

Yes. Had she seen the prints?

No!

So how did she know who they were?

The concierge mentioned it.

And he's seen the prints?

In his dreams!

So Helen and B had decided to take Jonathon to see the infamous artwork. Ellie had kicked herself at the thought of him getting a 'reward' like that for being a gossip and a lecher.

That was until she saw Helen and B again. They told her in graphic detail, how embarrassed he'd been as they pointed to the oversized prints of their vaginas, etc. and told him who was who in each one. He blushed when they demanded he pick a favourite. So much for Jonathon's cool self-image. He'd blushed, stammered and couldn't make eye contact. Ellie felt good about that. It'd teach Jonathon a lesson.

And that was pretty much all Ellie knew, or wanted to know, about the comings and goings in the Sodom and Gomorrah Suite. That was, until Robbie moved in there.

She wondered what the oh-so-polite blind guy had to do with the goings-on up there.

* * * * *

Ellie served Robbie his breakfast all week. Blueberry pancakes soon became 'the usual?' and 'sir' became 'Robbie' at his insistence. He was sweet and, despite his address, Ellie found herself warming to him.

Then, one morning another girl turned up. She acted like a girlfriend. By the next morning Ellie had heard that the new girl was staying in Robbie's suite.

Ellie wondered at her own reaction to that news. He was just a customer, wasn't he? And she'd promised herself a sabbatical from dating anyone after Finn. So why was she disappointed by the arrival of this girl 'Kelsey'?

Then, after Ellie had talked herself out of something stupid, and promised herself she wasn't going to get involved with Robbie, no matter what, Kelsey dragged her into the conversation and she found herself agreeing to have her face touched by Robbie. It felt... oddly intimate. His fingertips were really soft and his touch was feather light. He'd thanked her for letting him 'see' her and he'd been flattering about how cute she was. He'd actually flirted with her in front of his girlfriend. What was all that about?

And she'd kissed him for his gallantry. What was all that about? Ok, so it was just a peck on his cheek but...

And that night she'd sat down and written that list of commandments.

* * * * *

Two things came as a surprise when Ellie found Robbie breakfasting alone. She was surprised that he was alone and she was even more surprised that it made her feel better.

"So? Where's your girlfriend gone?" Ellie was due a break so she sat opposite Robbie to chat.

"She isn't my girlfriend. Kelsey was here to see how I'm settling in. My sponsor sent her."

"You're too young to be an alcoholic."

"Funny girl. My sponsor to Harvard. I have a scholarship. She provides my suite here too."

"That's generous. You must be very bright." Ellie was impressed but, while it explained why Robbie had that suite, it meant that yet another of her commandments applied to him. He was a college guy.

"It is generous, but Mr Kruppa keeps the suite here anyway so it's not all just for me."

"So who's your sponsor? You said 'she'."

"One of Mr Kruppa's models. Bernadette Kennedy... B."

"I've met her! They come in here occasionally. She's beautiful."

"She used to be my babysitter. Now she's putting me through school... And I agree. She's beautiful."

"That explains a lot."

"Explains what?"

"Why you live in the Sodom and Gomorrah Suite."

"Is that what they call it?"

"That's what the staff call it."

"Gossip, huh?"

"Lots of it. But I shouldn't be telling you."

"Why not? Because I might tell Mr Kruppa? He'd laugh. Eric likes being scandalous."

"No, because some of the gossip is about you and..."

"Kelsey?"

"And Kelsey."

"Which is why you thought she was my girlfriend?"

"Doh! Obviously. That and the way you kept touching each other. I know you have to, but she isn't blind." Too late, Ellie realized what she'd just said. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Ok. Yes, the rumours are probably true but that doesn't make her my girlfriend. That's just sex."

"You really aren't like other boys, are you, Robbie?" Ellie was so relieved that she hadn't caused offence that she reached out to pat Robbie's hand. He was making it easy for her to keep those commandments. What kind of guy owns up just like that? He definitely sounded like Eric Kruppa's kind of guy.

"Why not?"

"Most guys would have tried to lie. You told me the truth even when you knew it made you look bad." And she was thinking how sweet that naiveté was. What on earth did this guy have to admit to, to stop her thinking about him that way?

"Does admitting to having sex make me look bad?"

"Admitting to the sort of shenanigans that go on up there makes you look bad, especially when you want to ask me out."

"W-What?" He splashed his coffee. Ellie reached for a napkin to clean up the spill.

"Messy boy. Last week I thought you were just shy. I thought 'Poor boy. He's blind so I guess he hasn't had a lot of dates.'...Sorry... That didn't sound right." Playing it back in her head, Ellie thought it sounded awful.

"But you weren't far wrong."

"Really? When I heard the gossip, I assumed I'd been dead wrong."

"But you're still here, talking to me."

"I hoped the rumours weren't true, because you seemed so nice. But you tell me it is true." And she wondered why was she still talking to him about it?

"I haven't heard the rumours. I can't tell you what's true and what isn't. But you were right about me wanting to ask you out. If being honest with you means the answer's no, I'll take that because I don't want to have to lie to you to get a 'yes'. I hope that earns me enough of your respect for us to still be friends."

"Yes, we can be friends... because you were honest and I haven't had a whole lot of honest guys in my life recently... and because the answer to that other question was always going to be 'no'. I'm taking a break from dating anyone: Too many jerks in my diet. Anyway, I could lose my job for dating customers. The hotel has a policy about fraternizing with guests." There, thought Ellie: All the reasons for 'no' in one sentence.

"Isn't this fraternizing?"

"Not really. The coffee shop's quiet and, officially, I'm on my break."

"Well if it does come back and bite you, let me know. I'll get my fairy godmother in Manhattan to explain things to the management. Something along the lines of 'Mr Pugh needed help and Ellie was kind enough to offer her own time to provide it. Give her a bonus.'"

"I don't think you'll need to do anything so drastic." She chuckled at the idea all the same. She believed it too, after the incident with the chambermaids.

"That isn't drastic. Drastic would be if you got fired and Mr Kruppa hired you back as my personal assistant at a slightly higher salary than the person who canned you."

"Now that does appeal."

"More money? Or the prospect of spending every day as my guide dog?"

"More money."

"Well, think about it. When I start school, I'm going to need someone to help me. B was going to recruit a librarian because a lot of the time it'll be finding books and transcribing relevant passages and other boring, academic stuff. But it will be well paid."

"What are you going to study?"

"American history."

"I hated history in high-school... Oops. Break time's over, I'd better get back to work." Why, Ellie wondered, did she lie to him about that? She had ten minutes yet and she'd loved history. "More coffee?"

"Please. And Thanks, Ellie."

"Hey, what are friends for?"

* * * * *

"That's a lot of cleavage for a blind date." Georgina opined. Georgie was Ellie's older sister by two years and never let Ellie forget it.

"It's not a blind date. He's blind, literally. Anyway, it's not a date. Robbie just needs someone to show him around town so we're going for a couple of drinks at The Steamboat." Ellie's internal editor was telling her how defensive she sounded.

"So if it's not a date, and this guy's blind, why are you dressed like that?"

Ellie glanced down the front of her reflection in the dressing table mirror. It was a lot of cleavage, at least by her standards. "Because I might run into Finn." She owned up.

"You're not trying to get back with Finn? Jeez, Sis!"

"No way! I just don't want him thinking I'm not over him."

"Which of course, you are?" Georgie made it a question.

"Sis, I am so over Finn. But there's nothing wrong with showing him a little of what he's missing out on."

"Well at least your date won't spend all night staring down there."

"That's a horrid thing to say." Ellie turned quickly to face her sister, really quite angry at Georgie's insensitivity.

"That was a cheap shot. I'm sorry." Georgina, realizing she'd overstepped the mark, looked suitably contrite.

"Robbie's really sweet. If he could look down there, I don't think I'd mind. But he can't." Ellie found herself owning up to more than she should.

"And it's not a date? Only, it sure as hell sounds like a date to me." Georgina pounced on the revelation.

"Look Sis, I promised myself six months of no dating. So it's not a date." Ellie knew immediately that she'd been too shrill, too defensive.

"As I recall, you promised yourself you wouldn't go near Finn either, but you're going to The Steamboat." Which, as they both knew, was practically run by Finn's big brother.

"Because I don't see why I have to let that ass hole chase me out of my favourite bar. If Finn's there, he'll make the same mistake as you, thinking Robbie's my date, and he'll leave me be." Which, Ellie admitted to herself, was more a hope than a certainty.

"Yeah, right." Georgina was disdainful of her kid sister's wobbly logic.

"Look Sis, if Finn starts being... Finn, we'll just leave. But I want to try. I miss The Steamboat but I really don't want to go back there on my own. Ok?"

"Sure Sis. And I hope you're right... Hello?" Georgina's phone interrupted their conversation. "... Sis, I got to go. Have a good time." Georgina patted Ellie's shoulder as she passed her, heading out of the bedroom.

"Thanks." Ellie turned back to the task in hand, namely mascara.

* * * * *

"If this isn't a date, how come you dressed up?" Robbie asked. They were in The Steamboat.

"Pardon?" Ellie wondered why every conversation tonight sounded the same.

"Don't sound so surprised. I asked the concierge to rate you out of ten as soon as you came through the door. He gave you an eight, so you definitely made an effort."

"Ok. Yes, I made an effort."

"Which is wasted on me... except the perfume. I like the perfume a lot."

"My ex works here. I don't want him to have the satisfaction of seeing how much he hurt me." Ellie decided to tell Robbie the truth. After all, this wasn't a date so the rules of dating didn't apply. Hence, it was ok to talk about her ex.

"Hey..." Robbie reached out and held her hand gently. He had heard the stress in her voice. "He's history. Don't let him spoil one more minute of your life."

"I know." She didn't take her hand back. She decided that Robbie's concern for her was one of his many endearing qualities.

"Tell me what you're wearing. What makes it an eight?"

"Jonathan only gave me an eight because of my neckline. He's always trying to look down it and this one's a lot lower cut than my uniform." Again, Ellie told Robbie the truth. If Jonathon was his source of information, he probably knew the answer already anyway.

"So Jonathan's my competition, huh?"

"No way! He's a letch. That's one nice thing about being out with you. You don't keep looking at my tits."

"I wish I could."

"Sorry. I didn't mean..." She kept doing that! Mentioning his sight. She could feel her cheeks going warm.

"Hey, it's ok. Just don't make the mistake of thinking that, because I can't look, I don't want to. It's just... I see with my hands and grabbing every pair of breasts that comes within reach could get a guy like me into a whole heap of trouble."

"I'll bet." She relaxed. Robbie never seemed to get upset at her little slips. Mostly, he didn't even seem to notice.

"Well lookie here!" Finn!

Oh no, thought Ellie.

"If it isn't Elliephant. This your new boyfriend?" Finn was clearly several beers ahead of them. Ellie knew that over-loud tone too well. Her ex was looking to pick a fight with someone. Ass hole!

"I'm just her friend." Robbie said.

Ellie wondered if Finn would notice the white stick and back off. Surely, even Finn had some scruples. No. On second thoughts, he had none.

"Nobody's talking to you, blind-boy." Finn had noticed the stick. He'd also noticed Robbie's beer and helped himself to it.

"Finn, don't do this." Ellie's voice was pleading.

Then Robbie did the most stupid thing she'd ever seen. His white stick whirled past her face and hit the bottle in Finn's hand. There was glass and beer and blood everywhere. Finn howled in rage and pain. Ellie didn't react at all, stunned, until Finn's buddies dragged Robbie to his feet. Then she started yelling at them to leave him be.

For a few moments she was sure Robbie was going to get really hurt, then Nathan arrived, ballistically. Nathan was Finn's big brother and just about the only person in Boston that Finn didn't feel superior to. With a baseball bat in one hand and Robbie's collar in the other, Nathan herded Ellie towards the entrance and Finn's buddies just parted like the sea before Moses, to let them through.

"What just happened?" Robbie was bewildered. Ellie took his arm and marched them both down the sidewalk as quickly as she could. She doubted that Nathan would let the guys follow them, but there were other doors out of The Steamboat.

"You picked a fight with the high school wrestling squad." She didn't even try to hide her anger. In his day, Finn had been State champion but he liked to fight dirty and eventually got a ban. Robbie couldn't have picked a worse person to piss off.

"And I didn't get hurt. Why?"

"Nathan broke it up before Finn's buddies started breaking bones." They rounded a corner and Ellie slowed their pace a little. She didn't think they were being followed.




Promises, Rules and Their Breaking



"Is that the guy who told you to get out?" Robbie was still asking dumb questions.

"That's him. Finn isn't scared of much, but Nathan's his big brother. That and a baseball bat saved you a beating. What were you thinking?" Jeez! She could slap him for being so stupid.

"I wasn't. He was upsetting you and I... I guess you could say I saw red."

"Promise me you'll never do anything that stupid again. Promise me." They weren't moving at all now. Ellie was almost shouting. She was angry and she was shaking with all the adrenalin.

"I promise."

"You could have been really hurt. Those guys wouldn't care that you're blind. They've spent their whole lives bullying people weaker than they are."

"Ok. I get the point. It was stupid. I'm sorry. I won't do it again." Robbie got defensive.

"Sorry." Ellie hugged him and started to cry. "It's..."

"Its over now." Robbie put his arms around her and held her tight. He seemed a whole hell of a lot calmer about it all than Ellie felt.

"Nobody ever tried to be a hero for me before." She shook as she sobbed against his chest.

* * * * *

"You'd better come up and get dry."

"I better not." Ellie had been really quiet since she'd stopped sobbing.

Robbie had let her stay quiet until they reached the foyer of the hotel.

"I think I really must insist on you getting out of those wet things. I promise not to peek." "No... I really need to go home." Ellie protested, even as the elevator doors closed on them.

"What you really need is to get dry, get warm... And perhaps a little brandy." The elevator opened and Robbie rummaged in his jacket pocket for the key card. "After you." He held the door for Ellie. So polite, she thought as she brushed past him.

"Oh my!" She stopped just inside the suite.

"Never been up here before?"

"No. Not to any of the suites. Not even any of the rooms. It's huge." She was moving around now, taking it all in. "I've heard about these."

"Heard about what?"

"These pictures."

"They're Eric Kruppa's. I guess the management didn't mind him redecorating, since he rents this place by the year. The bathroom is through there, on the left. There should be plenty of towels and robes."

"Thanks." Ellie found the bathroom. "I must be mad." She said to herself - to her bedraggled reflection -- as she peeled down to her skin.

She was shivering so she turned the shower on hot and stepped into it to warm up. The water felt scalding at first, making her gasp, but it soon grew more comfortable. She quickly washed her hair because it was splashed with little flecks of Finn's blood. Ellie was still shaking when she got out of the shower, but not because she was cold. She guessed Robbie was right: she needed a drink.

And not just for the shock. She needed a little bottled courage if she was going to spend the night. She was honest enough to admit she wanted to, but... how many commandments did that break? Fuck it! Robbie had been so brave. She couldn't help feeling impressed by the way he'd defended her, when he of all people had an ironclad excuse to be a coward. Yes, she'd been mad at him outside, but only because she'd been scared for him inside. He was sweet, he was brave, he was polite and he didn't expect her to stay. Why on earth wouldn't she want to? Feminine logic won the day. She retrieved her perfume from her purse and dabbed it on all the right places, wrapped herself in a robe and opened the bathroom door.

It wasn't locked. She only noticed as she left that she hadn't locked herself in. Maybe she wasn't as insecure as she felt right now. Robbie's clothes were on a chair in the bedroom, dripping onto the carpet. Ellie tutted and took them back into the bathroom, running a few inches of cold water into the tub and leaving his bloodstained clothes to soak. There was quite a lot of blood on Robbie's clothes. She wondered, in passing, if Finn was badly hurt.

* * * * *

"I've put your clothes in the tub to soak." Ellie found Robbie in the main room. "It's not good to let blood dry on."

"Whose blood?"

"Finn's. You broke a beer bottle in his hand, remember?" Ellie picked a seat opposite Robbie instead of the place he'd clearly left next to him on the sofa. She noticed that space and wondered if Robbie was expecting more from her? So she sat apart from him to not be too obviously easy.

"I didn't know. Was he badly hurt do you think?" How could Robbie sound so sincerely concerned about the guy who would have happily broken all his ribs not an hour ago? It couldn't be an act. Robbie really had to be that nice.

"Probably not. But if he is, it serves him right. He shouldn't have been picking on a blind guy."

"Actually, it was picking on you that got him hit with my cane. I'm pretty much immune to jokes at my expense."

"I know. And that's my problem."

"Problem?... Ah, that'll be room service." They both heard the elevator door. "Want to run and hide, or have your reputation ruined by backstairs gossip?"

"My reputation is probably already ruined. The receptionists saw me come up with you." Ellie stayed where she was while Robbie went to the door.

"I ordered cocoa and brandy. I didn't know what you'd prefer."

"Allow me." Ellie touched his hand to stop him groping for the tray, then handed Robbie a large glass.

"Thanks."

"Ugh! I hate brandy." Ellie quaffed hers and exchanged an empty glass for a full cup of cocoa.

"What would you prefer? Order anything you like."

"Cocoa's fine. It takes away the taste of the liquor. You're shaking."

"I guess the shock's getting to me." Robbie still sounded quite calm though, placid even.

"Me too." Ellie looked at her own hands and the cup trembling between them.

"Still?"

"Still." She sipped her cocoa just a little noisily.

"Come and sit here." Robbie patted the vacant bit of sofa beside him.

"Do you know how many promises I've broken tonight?" Ellie didn't move.

"You didn't make me any promises."

"But I did promise myself."

"How many then?"

"After breaking up with Finn, I promised myself six months of no men. I promised myself I wouldn't go out with you. I promised myself I definitely wouldn't come up here and I've always promised myself I'd never, ever -- not under any circumstances -- lose my underwear on a first date."

"It's a good thing this isn't a first date then. Any promises you haven't broken yet?"

"Only one." Ellie got up, put down her cocoa and moved around the table to settle beside Robbie, lifting his arm and snuggling under it, wrapping it around her shoulders.

"One moment." Robbie reached for the phone with his free hand and dialled. "Hi, Reception. I have a guest this evening... Oh? You already know? ... Well, your diligence is commendable... Can you find her a room please? Just send the key card up to my suite... Thank you. Oh, and if you'd be so kind as to have a word with housekeeping, I'm sure they must have a uniform in Ellie's size, for tomorrow morning... No, don't send it up: just have someone put it in her room. Thanks... No, that'll be all. Goodnight." He put the phone down again and pressed his lips to the crown of her hair, briefly. "No more broken promises tonight."

"Thank you." Ellie couldn't help herself. She started to cry. Not because he was rejecting her implicit offer -- He wasn't and she knew that -- but because she'd never had a guy who actually respected her before. It felt good to be cared about.

"Why are you crying now?"

"I don't know." She sobbed, turning her face to kiss him properly.

A knock at the door brought their first kiss to an abrupt end just as Ellie was wondering why Robbie wasn't taking the hint and undressing her. The knock snapped her out of it like a bucket of cold water. She unfolded from his embrace and almost ran to the door.

"Goodnight Robbie." Ellie's voice carried from the door. She closed it behind her, not trusting herself to stay longer.

She went down in the same elevator as the bellboy who'd brought her room key. He smirked at seeing her wet hair and bathrobe so she said. "That guy needs a seeing eye dog. I got soaked and I don't think my dress will ever recover. It's dry clean only." She felt guilty for bad-mouthing Robbie, but she thought he'd probably understand. He wanted her reputation unsullied, didn't he?

At least it stopped the bellboy from smirking at her.

* * * * *

The first thing Ellie did was call home. "Georgie? Hi. I'm just calling to tell you not to worry. I'm staying over at the hotel tonight."

"Blind Boy's got lucky huh?"

"No! And his name's Robbie, not Blind Boy." Ellie felt herself blushing at the blatant deceit of her shock at Georgie's suggestion. She was keenly aware that her sister was only wrong because Robbie was better at guarding her reputation than she was herself.

"Whatever you say, little sister." Georgie sounded sceptical.

"We got into a fight with Finn then got very wet... You've noticed it's still raining? ... So Robbie insisted on getting me a room here. Nothing romantic." Like hell! The shock had gone away but she still felt horny, thinking about what Robbie had done to Finn.

"So you and Finn argued again? There's a surprise."

"We didn't argue. I told you, Robbie picked a fight with him."

"With Finn? Blind Boy?" Georgie clearly couldn't get her head around that concept.

"Please don't call him that. And Yes, with Finn. Actually, it was Finn's fault."

"No surprise there."

"He... Finn came over and started trying to bait me. When Robbie spoke up for me, Finn tried to pick a fight and Robbie accepted the invitation by smashing a bottle in Finn's hand with his white stick. Then it got ugly-"

"Like the presence of Finn wasn't enough ugly?"

"-Yeah, well his buddies were all set to really go to work on Robbie but Nathan got us -- Robbie and me -- out of there."

"But you're ok?" Georgie was genuinely concerned now.

"Sure, just a bit shaky. I've had brandy and hot chocolate though, so I'm calmer now."

"It sounds like the first date from Hell."

"It wasn't a date!" Ellie let her voice get just a bit too shrill.

"Sorry Sis. Ok, get a good night's sleep and you can tell me the whole story tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Georgie."

"Night."

Ellie took off her robe and looked at herself in the mirror. Her nipples were like diamonds. She touched them gently, enjoying their sensitivity and wondering what they said in Braille. Probably "Fuck me!"

She touched herself between her legs. Jeez! How wet was she? She almost went straight back up to Robbie's suite. She got as far as picking up her robe before she talked herself out of it. "No." she actually said out loud. "If you want this, Robbie, you've gotta come and get it."

Instead, she lay on the bed with all the lights out and imagined what it would feel like to be touched all over the way Robbie touched her face. She didn't try touching herself all over. She only had two hands and one was busy between her thighs while the other massaged her breasts, so tender and sensitive right now. But in her head, Robbie was slowly, patiently exploring every inch of her.

Her fingers slipped and slid over her labia, trapped between closed thighs as she curled up on the discarded robe. Her clitoris sent jolts through her at every light caress and her juices leaked out of her vulva, making her labia and thighs slick. She worked two fingers deep inside her vagina, feeling the heat inside her as her body responded to her manipulation and her fantasy of Robbie's touch. She recalled the pornographically explicit, but oh-so-beautiful, photographs on the walls of his suite. She'd never been into other girls but there was something compellingly erotic about seeing those images. Maybe because Ellie knew that two of the girls in those pictures were the only two girls Robbie had ever 'had'. She unfolded herself, spreading her legs wide and abandoning her breasts to peel apart her sticky labia and spread herself, like the photographs, imagining Robbie exploring her sex inside and out with his fingers and tongue. Even in the dark, holding herself open like that, legs akimbo, felt totally exposing. Her juices were bubbling out of her now. She rubbed frantically at her clit, her other hand plunging two --three fingers into her gaping hole, pumping in and out as fast and as hard as she could manage. Her climax, when it came, came like a crescendo at the end of a symphony. She wailed in ecstasy, barely having the presence of mind to roll over and press her face to the pillows, muffling the noise.

As her excitement subsided and she lay face down, sobbing again, this time with pleasure, her hands still underneath her, pressed protectively over her sensitive crotch, her first coherent thought was "Damn, Robbie! Why didn't you follow me down here?" She hadn't come like that in years, certainly never while she was with Finn. If just thinking about Robbie could get her off like that...

It didn't occur to her that the adrenalin and shock of earlier had played their part. Robbie got all the credit.

* * * * *

"Sorry I left so quickly last night." Ellie went straight over to Robbie as soon as he showed up in the coffee shop.

"Did it work? Are the gossip hounds on your trail?"

"Too soon to tell. The usual?"

"Please."

"Coffee. Your pancakes won't be long." Ellie brought his coffee and sat down opposite him. "Wasn't last night the worst first date ever?" Her voice was low but cheerful.

"Actually, it was my first first date. Wasn't it meant to be like that?"

"Your first... You mean you've never been on a date before?" Ellie found that hard to imagine.

"Never. I only ever asked one girl out in High School: She turned me down. B and Kelsey don't count. They just turned up and took charge."

"No wonder."

"No wonder, what?"

"No wonder you suck at dating. You got me thrown out of my favourite bar, ruined my favourite outfit and, just when - against all the odds - I decided to stay over, you threw me out." Ellie contrived to sound disappointed about that.

"Didn't I do anything right? I mean... I thought the kissing went well."

"Ok, I'll give you that. You kiss well. One minute." She left, returning with Robbie's breakfast.

"Thank you. Ellie, I have a favour to ask."

"Sho ashk." Ellie had brought a second fork and helped herself to a mouthful of Robbie's blueberry pancakes.

"I'm worried about Finn's hand."

"Don't be. I called Nathan last night. Finn's going to be fine. He'll still be an asshole, but his hand will be fine."

"Good." Robbie again sounded totally sincere about that. Ellie couldn't help but think it sweet that he cared at all about Finn.

"But we will have to find somewhere else to go tonight. Nathan's barred us both."

"But not his asshole brother? Figures... Tonight?"

"Unless you have other plans? You still owe me an evening out, Mister."

"No... No other plans."

"I'll see you later then." She got up and went back to work, leaving Robbie looking more in shock than he had at any point last night.

* * * * *

"Can I ask a personal question?" Robbie asked. They were in another bar and, touch wood, hadn't got into any trouble for a whole hour.

"You can ask... I may not answer you." Ellie was wondering if Robbie would ever get onto the subject of her staying over.

"Last night, Finn called you Elephant. Have you lost weight?"

"No. It's nothing to do with weight... It's really embarrassing... Can we not talk about it now?" Ellie hadn't been expecting that! Damn that ass hole, Finn.

"Sure."

"My turn with the personal questions." Even though she'd basically refused to answer his.

"Fire away."

"The extra sheets? Rampant sex or did you spill a glass of water?" This was the biggest single item of housekeeping gossip about Robbie and Ellie decided she really had to know the truth.

"Rampant sex." Robbie sounded smug about it too.

"And the noise from the bathroom?"

"Guests have no privacy, do they? I was sucking Kelsey's toes in the bath. Any more questions?" Robbie didn't seem to mind telling her. Ellie wasn't sure how to take that. Again, she found herself thinking, he doesn't behave like a normal guy.

"One more. Last night... After I'd gone?"

"Cold shower."

"That wasn't what I was asking. Did you think about coming to my room?" But she was a bit disappointed to hear that he wasn't as aroused as her. Then again, maybe he was, if he needed a cold shower.

"Not after you left so quickly. I didn't know which room you were in anyway and asking Reception... Not a good idea."

"I didn't mean to leave like that. I guess I panicked a little. For what its worth, I very nearly came back up." Very very nearly.

"I'm kinda glad you didn't. I've had all day to think about it and I really don't want you to be the subject of gossip. I think we should keep this platonic." Robbie dropped a bombshell.

Ellie was stunned for a moment. Didn't he want her? Of course he did. He was just being noble again. She reminded herself that he was old-fashioned in some odd ways.

"Thank you. I appreciate that." She had her own plans but it was nice that he was so thoughtful, even if he was making decisions for her -- which was one of the main reasons she'd dumped Finn. When Robbie did it, it made her feel cherished.

"Another drink?"

"Not for me. Can I walk you home? I have to work in the morning."

"Sure. Ok."

* * * * *

"Shall we say goodnight here?" Robbie asked when they reached the lobby of the hotel.

"No. I'm coming up." Ellie had pondered the idea all the way from the bar and she was as certain as she was ever going to be that this was what she wanted to do.

"But... We agreed to-" Robbie, poor boy, sounded confused, bemused and puzzled.

"I didn't agree to anything. I just thanked you because you were being so nice about it." She led him into an elevator. As the doors closed on them, she flowed up against him, silencing his objections, at least temporarily, with a kiss.

"Mm mmm." Robbie tried to speak, found it impossible with two tongues in his mouth, finished kissing Ellie, and then tried again. "I've gotta know. Why elephant?"

"You'll find out soon." The elevator stopped and Ellie reached into his pocket for the key card to the suite, letting them in. As the door clicked shut, she moved within hugging range of Robbie again, feeling much more relaxed than she'd expected to about what she was about to do.

"Remember yesterday, you said that grabbing every pair of tits that come within reach could get you into trouble?"

"Yes."

"Tonight it won't." She shut him up again. Robbie accepted both invitations, kissing her enthusiastically as his hands found the sides of her breasts. He couldn't feel more than just the sides because the rest of her bosom was pressed hard against his chest, but even that minimal touch elicited moans of pleasure from Ellie.

"Let me undress you. I want to see all of you." Robbie asked.

"The way you saw my face?"

"Yes." He was already finding buttons to undo.

"Shall I do that?" She tried to take over unbuttoning her shirt.

"Let me." He gently pushed her hand away and carried on unbuttoning. "It's part of the process."

"Of seeing me?"

"Yes. First what you're wearing, then what's under it. It'll take me some time... but we have all night."

"I'm all yours." Ellie liked that he was taking charge. She could feel her nipples crinkling and hardening with anticipation before he'd even unhooked her bra.

When he did unhook it, her bra slid down her arms to the floor and was replaced immediately by his hands, as he stood close behind her, cupping and supporting her ample breasts. As Robbie rolled her nipples between finger and thumb, Ellie moaned out loud.

"You like having your tits touched?"

"Love it. They've always been so sensitive. Don't stop." Ellie pressed back against him, feeling something suspiciously like a hard-on pressing just above her ass.




Promises, Rules and Their Breaking



"I'll come back to them." Robbie nuzzled her neck and her ear, his hands lightly travelling down over her tight abs. "You work out?"

"I was on my high school swim team." Ellie had a dilemma. On the one hand, she really wanted to reach behind her to grab Robbie's cock, but on the other hand, she didn't want to take the initiative away from him.

Before Ellie could decide which desire to satisfy, she found her pants slipping down her legs. She kicked them off. She was down to her panties now and Robbie was still fully dressed. His fingers were busy though, tracing the lace edges of her underwear. She breathed heavily. There were butterflies in her stomach.

"Touch me." She husked, her voice barely a whisper, her hand on his, guiding it towards her crotch. Robbie traced over the mound of her pubes, slowly working his way down towards her clit.

He seemed to change his mind, his fingers moved up again, away from that sweet spot, back up to her waistband. He pushed his hand into her underwear, over her curls, all the way down until his fingers were curled under and along her moist labia. There was something extra there. His fingers explored it.

"That's why Finn called me Elliephant." Ellie said quietly, acutely aware that she was blushing.

"What is it?" Robbie heard the nervousness in her voice.

"Over-developed labia minorae. Finn said they were like elephant's ears." She was getting upset. She was really self-conscious about them.

"Can we not mention that jerk again? I'm trying to get laid here and he's ruining the mood."

Ellie squirmed round in Robbie's arms grabbed his face, forcing her tongue into his mouth. She was so relieved that Robbie didn't show any sign of minding her freaky lips.

Robbie's meticulous mapping of her body ended there, at least for the moment. He fought with her for control of his buttons, all the while fencing with her tongue. His clothes, variously pulled up, down or over, were scattered across the floor all the way to the bedroom. Ellie's panties were actually the last vestiges of clothing to come off, being dragged down her legs... ok, so she was on her back with her feet in the air so it was technically up her legs... Whatever! They were dragged off with little ceremony and tossed aside as Robbie found a naked girl under him, her fingers guiding his very hard cock to where she wanted him. He eased his hips forward, gasping as his glans made contact with her labia.

As Robbie took control, pushing hard into her, Ellie sighed and clenched her pussy around him, holding him inside. Her legs crossed over his backside, holding him immobile. She just wanted to feel him inside her for a moment before things got hectic. Holding him trapped in the world's most luxurious prison, she drew his face to hers; pressing her mouth to his again, kissing him deeply and feeling him twitch inside her. She liked that! The fact that her kisses made him respond like that when he was already 'in'. She felt kissing was important, but most guys didn't. Robbie obviously did. She moaned into his mouth as his hands found both her breasts, kneading them gently, pinching her hard nipples and rolling them against his palms as though trying to make dough balls. His hands were so soft, his touch so gentle. Was this what it would feel like with a girl? All her lovers up to now had been like Finn, macho, rough boys. The thought crossed her mind that she'd wasted herself on them. It was a fleeting thought, swiftly carried away from her on the currents of pleasure that carried her along. Robbie started to assert himself, slowly rotating his hips, moving inside her without breaking the contact of their pubic bones. It was new to her. She liked it. She told Robbie so, whispering huskily into his ear as he nibbled at her neck.

His fingers were moving over the sides of her ribs now, oh-so-gently tickling her. She couldn't believe how hot it felt, how turned on that light caress made her. She could feel her abdomen churning, feel her pussy dripping as Robbie slowly moved inside her, apparently in no kind of hurry at all. Paradoxically, his slow, gentle lovemaking was driving her towards her first climax much faster than she was used to. Even her own fingers didn't get her this hot this fast. Before she realized it, she was gasping for breath and crying out as she came, her muscles in spasm around Robbie's deeply rooted cock, her legs trembling either side of his hips, her juices boiling out around his cock, soaking their crotches, lubricating everywhere skin touched skin, dripping down her butt crack onto the sheets.

If Robbie noticed her orgasm -- and how could he not? -- he ignored it, continuing to move slowly, rhythmically inside her while touching anywhere he could reach and caressing her ears, neck and mouth with his lips. Even Ellie's nails digging into his back, below his shoulder blades, didn't affect his rhythm.

As Ellie came slowly back to earth, feeling hypersensitive after her orgasm so that Robbie's gentle movement felt almost painfully intense where his sparse pubes met her clit, she realized she was crying. Why? She wondered. It was wonderful, she was feeling so warm and mellow and her climax had been amazing, so why the tears?

Robbie noticed them too, tasting their saltiness on her face. He raised himself on his arms to look down at her with eyes she knew couldn't see her. He appeared a little concerned. As he was about to speak, Ellie put a finger to his lips.

"Don't stop, Robbie..." and again, her hand on the nape of his neck drew their mouths together. He had to know she wasn't upset after that. Ellie gasped as the contact against her clit sent another aftershock through her body. She felt... she felt as if she was going to come again. So soon! She could hardly believe it but she couldn't deny those telltale feelings in her tummy. 'Oh Jesus!' She thought.

And Robbie must have felt it too; he started to speed up, moving out of her a little for the first time, pushing firmly back in. Out, in, out, in, His pace quickening as Ellie got closer and closer to her second orgasm. His hands fluttered over parts of her body she had never thought of as sexy, pushing her hands up behind her head and caressing her wrists, the insides of her elbows, her collar bones, the back of her neck, each touch making her moan louder as she teetered on the brink of her climax.

Ellie didn't want to come just yet. She wanted Robbie to come with her and he was still gathering pace, like a storm at sea, heading towards land. She couldn't think clearly enough to find the words to make him ease up on the touching. She was barely able to think 'not yet'.

As Robbie's rhythmic penetration became more and more assertive, Ellie lost her grip on her glands and fell into the abyss, delirium and ecstasy depriving her of all reason, all sensation but her orgasm. She felt flayed, her skin, one single sensitive erogenous zone and her insides felt molten with the heat and moisture of her desire. Amid it all, she felt a sudden surge inside her as Robbie came too, his hot seed flooding her pussy, his head thrown back as he grunted like an animal and pumped his semen into her. It was the first... the only... moment that he seemed anything less than gentle. She didn't care. She didn't need gentle right then. She was wailing with pleasure as the walls of her vagina gripped him, throbbing around his twitching cock, her cervix pulsing against the tip of his penis and making him moan. It was like being inside an unending explosion. It went on forever.

And when 'forever' ended, she gasped for breath, unable to speak. Robbie, his mouth next to her ear, was panting too. His weight on her tits made it hard to take deep breaths but the pressure of his body on hers was so comforting she didn't want him to move. So she breathed shallow breaths, feeling her pulse slowly return to normal by listening to the rhythmic thump of blood pounding in her head. She could feel Robbie softening inside her too. He was still inside her though and that felt good in the haze of post-coital exhaustion. She didn't want to feel empty just yet.

Ellie lay there, listening to her breathing and his, feeling his cock shrink inside her, feeling the moisture on the sheets cooling under her, feeling the sweat on her skin cool her as it evaporated, feeling absolutely at peace with herself.

Robbie spoke first. "There goes your reputation." He'd finally slipped out of Ellie's soaking wet pussy and rolled off her body to lie beside her, his arms cradling her, but not too tightly.

"I don't care." Ellie turned onto her side, her bottom against Robbie's crotch, and drew his arms close around her, guiding one hand to her breast. She could feel the accumulated fluids of three orgasms - her two and Robbie's - moving inside her. They hadn't used a condom and she didn't care. It felt so good to have his seed inside her now.

There was no more conversation. Robbie was good at keeping quiet. He held her instead and all that they could have said was left unspoken and unnecessary. She knew how he felt, he knew how she felt and neither of them needed any reassurance that their lovemaking had been good. It had been wonderful.

* * * * *

After, after bathing together and towelling each other dry, Ellie lay still enough long enough for Robbie to thoroughly map her body and to find all her erogenous zones, including those pendulous labia, which produced the most astounding choral effects when he sucked on them until Ellie came a third time.

"Wow! Who knew?" It was late, they were both exhausted and Ellie was scrutinizing Robbie's hand, stroking his fingers.

"Who knew what?"

"Who knew that blind men's hands could be so much fun?" She kissed each fingertip in turn. It felt as intimate as anything else they'd done tonight.

"Including you? Only three people."

"So me, the phantom scrotum shaver and your fairy godmother, right?" Ellie had been surprised and amused by Robbie's lack of pubic hair.

"You, Kelsey and B. Yes."

"And what are you going to tell them?"

"About you? That you're rubbish in bed."

"You...!" Ellie rose onto her knees and laid into Robbie with a pillow, beating him as vigorously as it's possible to do with such a soft weapon.

"If I tell them the truth, they'll want to sleep with you too." He pleaded for clemency. "And you don't want to share your new toy?"

"You're not a toy and that's not my decision."

"Good answer."

"And the question you haven't asked yet... No, I won't be fucking either of them any time soon."

"Thank you."

"B wouldn't, even if I wanted her to. She has a rule about guys who are otherwise involved."

"You just don't know when to keep your mouth shut, do you?" Ellie kissed him again, to shut him up.

"I'll shut up if you'll let me get some sleep, insatiable little minx."

"Deal." She let go of his limp penis, which had failed to respond for long enough anyway. Moving to settle her ass against his crotch, she wrapped herself in his embrace again and felt him nuzzling her hair, still slightly damp after their bath and pleasantly cool on her shoulders. "Sweet dreams."

"They will be."

* * * * *

"Good Morning, Sleepy Head." Ellie bent over the bed and Kissed Robbie's forehead as she woke him.

"What time is it?" Robbie reached up to her neck, finding fabric instead of skin. She was dressed.

"Time for work. I didn't just want to let myself out. I'll see you for breakfast in a couple of hours." She kissed his mouth this time, before straightening up.

"Sure." Robbie rolled over, reaching for the recently vacated pillow and hugging it to him. Ellie reckoned he was probably asleep again before she got out of the room. Well? The sweet guy had done the lion's share of the work last night and it was well before his usual waking time. She let herself out quietly and went down to the staff locker room to change into her uniform. Shortly, she had occasion to be thankful for the spare underwear she kept in her locker. Sure as she was that Robbie would like the idea of her going commando all day, it really wasn't her style.

The first coffee she served that morning was for her. She needed caffeine to compensate for the lack of sleep. Naturally, Annette noticed.

"Late night?" Annette asked, about five seconds after she clapped eyes on Ellie.

"Early morning." Ellie replied, smiling wanly and sipping a double espresso. Normally, that would taste far too strong for her: she preferred cappuccino. Today though, she just wanted a wake-up shot.

"So what time did you play 'seeing-eye dog' until?" Annette had heard the official story about being Robbie's guide. Ellie wondered if she'd gotten away with sleeping over last night. Maybe?

"About eleven." Ellie recalled what time she'd brought Robbie back to the hotel.

Annette gave her a careful look. Ellie was conscious that she looked a lot more tired than the facts so far would suggest.

"Well you're off tomorrow. You can get your beauty sleep then." And the subject was dropped. There was prep work to do. Ellie was glad to have something to keep her busy. Despite what she'd told Robbie, she was dreading the hotel manager finding out about her sleeping over.

Right on time, at ten o'clock, Robbie turned up for breakfast. Ellie went on break and joined him. He was the only customer in the coffee shop anyway. The commuters had gone to their offices and it would be quiet until the 11 o'clock rush started.

"So?" Robbie asked, grinning wolfishly.

"So what?"

"So? How's your rep?"

"Nobody's said anything yet." Ellie couldn't hide her nervousness though. Last night was wonderful but, in the cold light of day, it had to have repercussions. "But it's early yet."

"Well, the chambermaids were going up as I was coming down so I guess, by now, they know somebody stayed over." Robbie didn't appear to share Ellie's concerns about the consequences.

"It's not funny, Robbie. I could get fired." Ellie realized it was her problem, but - damn it! -- A little support would help. It was the first sign of typical masculine behaviour Robbie had exhibited.

"Relax- Oops! That's my phone." Robbie took the ringing phone out of his shirt pocket. Sorry, Ellie, this is important." He pressed the button to answer it. "Hello... Oh, Hi Parry. Thanks for getting back to me... Thanks anyway... Good... Good... Ok. Thanks again... Goodbye."

Ellie listened to the cryptic half conversation patiently.

Robbie was grinning at her and she was getting a bit fed up with his lack of concern, or at least support for her concerns. When Robbie put his phone away, he reached across the table for her hand. It wasn't there.

"Who's Parry?" Ellie asked, wanting to change the subject before she got mad at him. She really didn't want to have their first row in here.

"Parry is Eric Kruppa's proxy. I rang him when I got up. He's fixed it."

"Fixed what?"

"Us. You. Staying over. Ellie, even if you didn't get busted today, you would eventually... unless last night was a one-off?"

"No!" Hell no! Robbie had been a revelation. She had no intention of giving that up.

"Good." He beamed. "Well, Parry says you're golden. He's had a word with the manager and the official line is that you're invisible when you're with me." Robbie looked pleased with himself.

"You should have asked me first." Ellie didn't like people making decisions for her. Finn used to do that a lot.

"I should have waited until you were in trouble? Instead of preventing trouble in the first place?"

"This is no time to be logical." Ellie couldn't, much as she wanted to, stay mad at him. It was a relief to know she wasn't getting fired. She leant over the table and kissed him briefly. To her great surprise, she didn't care that Annette saw her do it.

* * * * *

"So why did Kelsey shave your balls?" They'd been out to dinner. Robbie apparently knew Boston's best restaurant and, to Ellie's astonishment, the restaurant knew him. They'd got back an hour ago and made love again. Robbie had proved that last night wasn't a fluke: Ellie had been a little embarrassed at how loudly she'd screamed as he made her come. She had to get over that sort of embarrassment.

"She says it makes blow-jobs better." Robbie was holding her close, her breasts pressed to his side. She could see his cock hardening again as they spoke. She wanted to reach out for it, but it was doing just fine without her help.

"And does it?" Ellie couldn't see what difference it made.

"Oh yes." Robbie smiled as he recalled what Kelsey had done with his freshly shorn scrotum.

"How?" Ellie was curious what was making him smile so goofily.

"Well... She sucked my balls." Robbie was hesitant as he explained.

"And that feels good?" Ellie had never tried it, never been asked to try it and couldn't imagine that it added much to a blowjob. In her experience -- Finn and a couple of others -- the further from the sharp end you got, the less sensitive a cock got.

"It feels great!" Robbie certainly sounded enthusiastic. "The first time she did it, I came right away and it took ages for Kelsey to lick up all the mess I made."

"Whoa! Too much information." Ellie didn't want to hear all the details.

"Sorry. I guess I've learned some bad habits from B and Kelsey." He looked really contrite.

"You're going to get really bored of me really quickly." Ellie wasn't joking. "I'm way too vanilla for you, aren't I?" She sat up, out of reach.

"What? No! ... Ellie... It's not a competition. About three weeks ago I was still a virgin. It's a fair bet you've had more sex and more lovers than I have, but I'm not even going to ask. All that matters to me is that I'm your lover now. What has gone before... It doesn't matter." Robbie sat up too and tried, unsuccessfully, to reach out to Ellie.

"But you've been with such..." Ellie stalled.

"Kinky girls?" Robbie offered.

"Yes. And that's really not me..." Ellie wasn't going to start crying. She absolutely wasn't. She sniffed hard instead.

"Come here." Robbie was stern and gentle at the same time as he reached out, found her and drew her close, hugging her tightly to him. He nuzzled her hair and stroked her back and ignored his erection, trapped between their bellies. "In my entire life, I've asked two girls out. You're the only one who said yes... Ellie, you're my first girlfriend and making love with you is amazing. If you're not into giving head, that's fine. What do you like to do?"

"I never said I don't like giving head." Ellie actually used to blow Finn quite often when they didn't have any condoms in the apartment. It kept him happy and her not pregnant.

"Oh. My mistake. I thought..."

"I know... I'm sorry too. I guess I shouldn't get upset about your other lovers." Ellie kissed him, effectively ending the discussion. She found his hard cock with her hand and stroked it slowly, adding just a little more temper to it.

"And you really don't mind giving head?" Robbie asked.

"Would you like me to prove it?" Ellie assumed Robbie's question was a rather unsubtle hint.

"I believe you." Robbie played hard-to-get, but Ellie, being a girl, was better at that game.

"Suit yourself." She carried on stroking his cock up and down.

"Ellie?"

"Yes?" Ellie asked as in her sweetest tone.

"Would you give me head? Please?" Robbie gave in even more quickly than she'd expected.

"Of course, darling. Lie back down." And Ellie moved to kneel beside his hips, lowering her mouth to engulf his hot, hard cock. She kept a hand curled around the base of his shaft, stroking rhythmically as her head bobbed up and down and her tongue worked feverishly around his smooth, sensitive glans. She was still curious about his shaved balls so, before Robbie was too close to climax, she popped him back out of her mouth and sucked on one of his balls, her hand stroking his cock the whole while, keeping it flat against his belly. She popped the other testicle into her mouth: It was quite a mouthful but she managed to move her tongue around them and palpitate them with her cheeks as if gargling mouthwash. That made Robbie tense and moan out loud. Curiosity satisfied, she went back to sucking his cock. She didn't want him coming all over the place, as he'd suggested could happen. No, she wanted him in her mouth when he came, wanted to show him just how much she liked giving head. She wanted to swallow every last drop of his come.