The Awakening of Laura

 

Chapter One

Sunday

 

When Stephen first saw Laura standing next to her husband after the Sunday service, greeting worshippers on their way out of the church, he felt at once dizzy and breathless, as if punched directly in his solar plexus by an unseen fist. Stephen wondered if Laura had seen the quick sideways glance he'd given her, as her husband stretched out his arms to give him a black-robed embrace in the foyer of Our Savior Presbyterian Church. In his one brief look he noticed how the conservative pearl-white cardigan and pleated knee length skirt she wore sharply contrasted with the stylish shiny black high heeled shoes on her pretty arched feet. Through her thin sweater Stephen observed how the fetching curves of her rounded breasts and nipples were held in tight bondage by the thick straps of her brassiere. Enfolded in the ministerial embrace, breathing in the freshly laundered scent of the flowing robes, Stephen stole another furtive glance at Laura's breasts. He imagined unbuttoning her sweater and unsnapping her bra strap with the tips of his trembling fingers. Once freed from their captivity, he thought how soft and warm her full breasts would feel as they fell into his hands and how swollen her areoles and nipples would become after he took them into his open mouth and sucked upon them passionately.

Stephen stayed longer than was appropriate in the warmth of the pastor's embrace, pressing himself into his prodigious girth. Laura took notice of how long the attractive gentleman stayed wrapped in her husband's arms.

Was he looking at me? At my body?

Clearly uncomfortable with the prolonged physical contact, especially with another man, the Reverend stepped back to break the embrace.

"Are you feeling alright, my son?"

Stephen looked up into his inquiring fleshy pink face.

"Yes, Reverend."

"Call me Reverend Rog. All my friends here do."

OK, Reverend Rog."

"Son, you seem... do you not feel well?"

"No, I feel fine. Why do you ask?"

"You're trembling."

"Oh yes. I suppose I am."

As he had unwittingly drawn attention to himself, by now Stephen was sure Laura had noticed him, along with everyone else in line waiting to speak with the Reverend.

"Reverend, I think I'm holding up the line."

"You're new here?"

"Yes."

"Is this your first visit to our parish?"

"It is, Reverend."

"Reverend Rog."

"OK, Reverend Rog."

"Listen; are you free tomorrow night around 7?"

"Uhh, I..."

"Well, if you're feeling better, I'd like to set up an appointment to meet with you. I do this with all new members to welcome them into my congregation on the first Monday of the month, which is tomorrow. We can sit down together, get to know each other a little more personally, pray together if there may be something troubling you. There will be coffee and sweets, oh; I didn't catch your name..."

"Stephen."

"Well, Stephen, I certainly hope you feel better by tomorrow. You may be coming down with something. You look feverish, you're sweating. I hope you're not contagious. I have a big business trip coming up this week."

"I feel fine. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Well, it was a pleasure meeting a new member. Welcome to Our Savior. We'll meet tomorrow night then."

"Yes, Reverend, I'll try to make it," Stephen said, shaking the Pastor's extended hand.

As he turned toward the door, the Reverend reached out and touched Stephen's shoulder, an incidental touch, but one that would end up changing their lives.

"Oh, before I forget, let me introduce you to my wife, Laura."

With trepidation, Stephen paused, took a deep breath and turned to gaze into her dark brown eyes. She held out her pale white hand and he took it, holding it lightly in his own, feeling its warmth.

"Hello," Laura said, held captive by Stephen's piercing blue eyes.

"Hello, Laura..."

She smiled and briefly broke eye contact with the stranger, glancing down at her hand.

"My hand?"

"Oh yes. Sorry."

He released Laura's hand and stood formally, clasping his hands stiffly in front of him. Stephen saw Laura sweep the tips of her fingers over the wet residue of perspiration he had transferred into her palm.

"I'm terribly sorry. My palms are wet..."

"And your name again was...?"

"My name? Yes, uh..."

"Have you forgotten your name, sir?" she asked.

I'm teasing him. Why am I teasing him?

Laura swept a strand of her thick golden blonde hair behind her ear.

She's not flirting with me. Is she?

"No. It's Stephen."

"Well, nice to meet you, Stephen."

"Thank you..."

They looked at each other for a moment longer. Laura gave Stephen a sweet half smile.

"I'm sorry, Laura, I appear to be holding up the line, I guess I'll be going."

Stephen looked out the door into the bright sun. Impulsively, he turned back to her.

"You know, it's such a nice day... I was thinking, it's only a few blocks away, would you like to take a walk on the beach?"

Stephen immediately regretted having made such a suggestion as soon as the words slipped out of his mouth.

"What?" Laura asked, as if she hadn't heard him correctly.

"Uh, I was just saying, wouldn't it be great to take a stroll on the beach... but I'm quite sure you and your husband are busy..."

"I haven't been to the beach in years... almost 3 years..."

After she uttered the word beach, Laura's mind seemed to drift off. Stephen noticed her looking toward the shimmering stained glass windows, the sun pouring through them, her eyes narrowing wistfully.

"Anyway... I'm sure you're both busy... sorry for holding up the line. Pardon me."

On unsteady legs, Stephen somehow managed to make his way out the front door of the church. Laura watched him disappear into the sun.

 

Stephen's Diary Entry: Sunday Night

Well, can you believe it? I've sunk to a new low - lusting after the body of the pretty minister's wife. Since I can't seem to take these debauched thoughts out of my mind, I've decided to stop trying to be someone I'm not. As for my faith, my body and spirit have always been at war within me, and now I know they can no longer coexist. Since God supposedly granted us all free will, and I have to choose, I choose the body. You will be better off without me Laura, lusting after you, fantasizing about you every Sunday, while your husband delivers the sermon. I'll have to take that walk on the beach without you.

 

Laura's Diary Entry: Sunday Night

Dear Diary, I finally have a bit of titillating news to report to you, after so many months and years of boring journal entries. The monotony of my life was relieved meeting a most attractive man at church today. (Listen to me, I sound like I have a schoolgirl crush.) He looked to be in his early thirties, so charming and handsome, with the scruffy golden light brown hair of a surfer, slender and well-dressed in a fashionable suit - European cut, perhaps? He greeted me in a most charming and gentlemanly fashion, holding my hand as if it were a delicate flower, then forgetting he was holding it as we lost ourselves gazing into one another's eyes. He was quite nervous and shy, like a boy on his first date. Our whole interchange took less than two minutes perhaps, but so much transpired, I feel.

After some small talk, he surprised me out of nowhere by inviting me to the beach! Me, a married woman. I can't erase this man from my memory. All day I've fantasized about meeting him there. All day. Which beach we'd go to, which bikini I would wear, one piece or two. I tried to take a jog to shake him from my mind. I ran harder and faster than I'd run since college or even high school, as if imbued with a new strength. But no matter how much I sweated, I could not shake him from my thoughts. So there he remains. I know I shouldn't be thinking about him, but I can't help it.

Dear Diary, I've tried to love my husband these last three years and tried to be a good supportive wife. I am devoted to him and respect him. But, though I feel quite guilty about it, I ask you, can't I have just one day to feel these feelings again - the ones that I lost long ago? If only I could have met him 3 years ago, before... but I know now it is too late. When I am an old lady, dear diary, surrounded by my grandkids, and I stumble upon this diary in an old musty shoebox, pull it out and read this entry, I want to be able to remember his name.

Stephen.

His name was Stephen.