CHAPTER 5

WILLA

“We’re here,” Billy Bob declared as he slowed and prepared to turn into a gravel driveway.

We pulled into a large acreage, and my heart almost stopped. Right at the driveway entrance was a beautiful reddish-brown horse that reminded me of my childhood horse, Little Red. I almost threw my neck out of place whipping around to look at her as we drove up the driveway. She began to canter up the drive behind us, following us to the house and buildings.

“What’s the matter?” Billy Bob asked with a smile as we drifted past her.

“That horse back there reminds me of Little Red, my horse I had growing up.”

“That’s Ginger,” Billy Bob said as he stopped.  “I’d really like to set you up with her because I saw the similarities between Little Red and Ginger in that photo.” Billy Bob paused and frowned.

“I detect a ‘but’ coming,” I told him with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Billy Bob lamented. “Ginger is pretty feisty, even for an experienced rider.”

“I’m experienced,” I declared.

“When’s the last time you rode?”

“When I was 14,” I replied mildly.

“How long ago was that?”

“You know, it’s not polite to ask a woman her age.”

“I didn’t. I asked how long since you’ve ridden.”

“If you can do basic math, you just did ask how old I am.”

“Okay, okay,” Billy Bob smiled as he made a stop gesture with his hand. “No offense, but I’m going to guess it’s been several years since you were 14.”

“It’s been 12,” I admitted.

“Oh, so you’re 26,” he said with a grin.

“I am. I’d ask your age, but I don’t want to be rude.”

 “Yes, that would be.”

“I already know. You’re 23.”

“Ha,” Billy Bob bellowed. “Some psychic! You were probably basing your assumption off of Lyle, but I’m eight months younger than he is. I was the baby of our class. I’m still 22.”

“You must have been a big baby,” I giggled. “And Zella’s the psychic, not me.”

“Do you really believe she’s psychic?” he asked with an air of concern.

I shrugged. Zella did have amazing intuition, and an ability to read people. Yet she also confided to me tricks she used to, for lack of a better description, gain peoples trust. Or you might also say, deceive. “Her customers seem satisfied. I don’t know of anyone asking her for their money back.”

 Billy Bob shook his head and emitted a little snort. Then he gave me a little heads up about our hosts. “The Manning’s are really good people. But they’re an extreme case of opposites attract. Ella is a little bit like a happy hippie, yet very religious. Hayden is an old-time redneck and crusty with a colorful vocabulary. You should be all right with that, though. He’s got a strong admiration for attractive women.”

“So, how can this Ella be both a hippie and religious?” I asked. “Aren’t hippies all about sex, drugs, and rock and roll? You know, sky clad, free love and all that?”

“Oh no,” Billy Bob replied, shaking his head. “What I meant when I said she was hippie-like, I meant she was really laid back, into nature, quick with hugs. I guess I meant hippie as a first impression. Ella would call sex, drugs, and rock and roll an unholy trinity.”

“Sex, drugs, and rock and roll are good things to some of us,” I replied. “I mean, I believe in the free love the hippies of the sixties advocated.”

“Your love is far from free,” Billy Bob said sternly. “It isn’t actually love either.”

“Correct,” I replied. “I bring men pleasure and I’m rewarded handsomely. Loves got nothing to do with it, period.”

“You got that right,” Billy Bob said with disgust in his voice. “This culture today so often confuses lust with love and love with lust.”

“What’s wrong with lust?” I said. “Acting on it brings pleasure, and pleasure brings happiness. Love only seems to bring heart ache. Given what you hired me for, you should know about that.”

“How would you know if you’ve never been in love?”

“Billy Bob, let’s not go down this road again,” I whined.

To my surprise, Billy Bob grinned from ear to ear and patted me on my knee. “You’re absolutely right,” he declared happily. “Let’s go horse around.”

A woman in her 60s or 70s wearing a long, flowing dark green summer dress emerged from a modest ranch house with a big smile on her face. She had long, wavy honey-blonde hair mingled with grey that drifted all the way down her back. She was followed by a hunched-over man that reminded me of a retired drill sergeant. A bulldog was at his heels, and it was definitely a case of a pet resembling its owner.

“William!” the woman shouted with spread arms as she hugged Billy Bob like a long-lost son.

“How are you, Ella?” he inquired as he hugged her back like a long-lost mother. “This is Willa. She’s a friend of mine.”

“Hi, Willa,” Ella beamed before I received my own tight embrace from a woman I had only known for a few seconds. Can you say awkward? It was more contact with me than I allowed my clients to have.

“So nice to meet you,” she beamed after we separated from the embrace. Then she waved a hand at the curmudgeon. “This is my husband, Hayden.”

“How do, young lady?” Hayden drawled as he carefully shook my hand and then nodded once at Billy Bob.

“We have to run,” Ella chirped. “But obviously you know where everything is, Willie Wonka. Nice to meet you, Willa. Have fun!”

“We will,” I replied with a happy smile, made easy by the name she called Billy Bob. “Nice to meet both of you.”

“Same here,” Hayden grunted. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hayden wiggle his bushy eyebrows at Billy Bob and shoot him a thumbs-up.

“Willie Wonka?” I repeated with a laugh after the older couple left us.

“Forget you heard that,” he said with a grin. “Being called Billy Bob is bad enough.”

“What? I can’t call you Willie Wonka?” I grinned. “How about Billy Bonka?”

“That’s even worse,” he laughed. “But as far as our horses, are you okay riding someone besides Ginger? I’d just soon not make a trip to the hospital today. I’m sure you’re a good rider, but even the best of us can get rusty after a decade of not riding.”

It struck me that he referred to a horse as someone, as if they were a person. “Yeah, I’m fine with that,” I replied congenially. “To be honest, I admit that I’ll probably be rusty after so many years. When we first got here, I was just waxing sentimental about Ginger looking like my Little Red. That’s all.”

“Funny you should say rusty,” Billy Bob grinned. “I’d like to set you up with a horse named Rusty. He’s an older gelding that likes people and loves to go riding.”

“Sounds wonderful,” I agreed.

Billy Bob and I proceeded to ride horses around the Mannings’ 30-something acres of mostly sparse woods, and we had a fantastic time. How had I gone so long without riding? It brought such peace to my soul. We didn’t converse much at all. Billy Bob let me just ride and enjoy the moment; I loved him for that. Even though it was mostly wordless, we did get to know each other in small, subtle ways.

Billy Bob simply saw how much I loved horses and riding them as he watched me. In turn, I saw how in tune Billy Bob was with nature. He was so at ease with his horse and looked so tranquil gazing around at the beautiful scenes of creation. I watched him talk softly to his horse and recalled Zella’s unusual inquiry and subsequent revelation about Billy Bob and her dog Free. I felt stirrings for Billy Bob that were unfamiliar to me. It felt weird, and I didn’t like it at all. Yet I loved it. So many contradictions in life! What was I getting myself into?

“What do I owe you?” Billy Bob said when he dropped me off at home.

“For what?” I frowned.

“For today,” he replied. “I didn’t keep track of the time.”

My mind froze. On the phone, as soon as he said horseback riding, I actually would have paid him instead of him me. “I had a blast today, Billy Bob,” I finally said. “I have no intention of charging you.”

“What if we would have gone for coffee instead?” he asked with a little smirk.

“Then I would have charged you,” I said, giving him a gentle punch on his upper arm. “Like I said, I had an absolute blast today. Thank you so very much.”

“Well, since you’re not charging me, would you want to go again?”

“You mean it?” I blurted spontaneously, and then felt like a silly teenage girl.

“Yeah, I told you I can go riding out there as often as I want to. So we can go any time you want to. I mean other than when I have to work or go to church.”

“I’d love that!”

“So when do you want to go again?”

“How about tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” he asked with a frown.

“You said any time.”

“Yeah… I guess I could swing it.”

The next two weeks were the best stretch of days of my adulthood. In the pauses between riding, Billy Bob and I had in-depth, meaningful conversation, mostly about spirituality. I was cynical and mocking, but surprisingly, Billy Bob usually agreed or at least sympathized. Still, he always came up with convincing counterpoints, usually citing scriptures that went in one of my ears and out the other. Initially, I wasn’t very good soil for seeds of truth. I needed a lot of watering.

Without realizing it, I had become very attached to Billy Bob. I had fancied myself above getting too close to anyone romantically. I was a confirmed loner. Yet after my first couple of outings with Billy Bob, I experienced something that was foreign to me. After we parted ways, I began to feel something like loss and emptiness. With every parting, this feeling of loneliness and longing intensified.

I didn’t want the bliss to end, but it was about to climax with the wedding. I began to hope beyond hope that the wedding might be some type of romantic beginning for Billy Bob and me. We had developed such a rapport that I was feeling like we were actually a couple. I felt like the wedding date was going to somehow make what relationship we had begun permanent. I was on cloud nine with this dream. But it was about to become cloud nothing.

The irony wasn’t beyond me. I had rejected countless guys in my life. My looks alone would have probably caused all the guys I turned away to tolerate any high maintenance. Not that I’m high maintenance… I don’t think anyway…  But then finally, the one guy I truly wanted rejected me.

CHAPTER 4

WILLA

After Lyle and his friend Billy Bob left, I put on sweatpants and a sweatshirt, joining Zella in her store. She and I had met six years previous in Los Angeles when we were both aspiring models. She and I clicked from the start when we discovered that both of us had grown up with major dysfunction. At the time, she was being stalked by a former boyfriend. Since we both were souring on the modeling profession, I suggested that she flee with me to Iowa. I had lived there with my aunt and cousin Whitney during a portion of my teenage years.

Zella and I went in together on an old two-story house. We set up a store on the first floor, selling herbs and various health supplements. Zella also was into the paranormal and had a sideline doing psychic readings. Toward the end of my modeling career, I had gained notoriety as a dominatrix. So I turned that little bit of fame into personal encounters for a pretty penny.

 Zella had a passion for saving animals and worked with a rescue organization. The more the animals were abused, the more she tended them with loving care and devotion. Then she would adopt them out. But when she worked with a dog she called Free, she fell so in love with the creature that she couldn’t let her go.

 Zella was the sweetest, most caring person I had ever known, and I loved her immensely. I still do, but the way I feel about her has changed from the years we lived together. Because we shared a house together, people assumed things about our relationship. When people got nosy, we would never confirm nor deny. I will say this though. Both our sexual preferences were good men. We had just hadn’t met any, so we hung out with each other.

“Willa, can I ask you something?” Zella inquired cautiously as I twisted open a bottle of water, took a big swallow, and leaned on the counter.

“Of course,” I replied with a frown. We were best friends so why would she feel the need to ask if she could ask me a question?

“That Billy Bob guy,” she asked tentatively, looking uneasy. “What did he request?”

Zella had never ever, not even once, asked me what a client had requested. We’ve discussed my clients before, to be sure, since some of them have been coming to me for quite a while. But it had always been me that brought up the subject. “He wanted me to be his date for a wedding.”

A look of relief seemed to wash over her, and I frowned some more.

“He didn’t want you do anything weird or kinky?” she asked happily.

“No,” I informed her. “He didn’t even want me to do a little strip tease for him! I even told him there was plenty of time on the clock. It was the first time I felt like I might be getting washed up.”

“Are you gonna do it?” she asked eagerly.

“No, I told him I don’t do escort stuff. Why are you asking about him anyway? You never ask me about my clients.”

“I witnessed an absolutely amazing thing when you were with Lyle,” she said in awe, her lovely eyes wide as can be. “Free not only let Billy Bob pet her, but she also offered her belly, and he scratched it for a couple of minutes. If she was a cat, she would have been purring big time!

I looked at Free as my mouth fell open in absolute amazement. A prickling sensation tickled my neck as I absorbed this information. Zella had owned Free for at least two years, maybe closer to three. Free was near death from abuse when Zella got her, and the canine despised men. I continued to stare at the dog. It was a cold, early spring day and Free sprawled lazily by a furnace duct. I looked back at Zella.

“It was a sight to behold, Willa,” Zella said as her lower lip trembled and a tear leaked from her left eye. “That big, rugged, outdoorsy man’s face just suddenly radiated peace and love like I’d never seen before in my lifetime! His voice was so sweet and gentle, it was like an angel’s. I almost lay next to Free so he might scratch my belly, too.”

A chill ran through my body as I started to laugh, and then I realized I was wiping moisture from my own cheeks. I did detect something very different about the man. Around most guys I feel a sense of power as their eyes worshipped me. With Billy Bob, I felt a sense of shame and insecurity as his eyes continually averted away from body.

Another unusual thing about our encounter was his eyes. At first glance there was no beauty that you would behold them. But unlike most men, who averted their gaze through either intimidation or lust for my body, he looked me right in the eyes during most of our conversation.

I saw several things in his gaze, coupled with his demeanor as we had dialogue, and they seemed contradictory. I saw gentleness, kindness, insecurity, integrity, embarrassment, and sadness. I hated to turn his request down, and not just because it would have been a lot of money for a couple hours work. I truly felt bad for him. But I was selfish, and an introvert who hated social gatherings.

However, I couldn’t get Billy Bob off of my mind after Zella’s revelation. I had to know more of who and what this guy was about. I needed to see him again. I also could make several hundred bucks seeing him again, even though social events were about as appealing to me as going to the dentist.

An hour after Zella’s incredible story, I got hold of Lyle and asked for Billy Bob’s number. Then I called him. “I’ll take you up on your offer,” I said by way of greeting.

“Uh, who is this?” he asked.

 “Sorry, it’s Willa,” I told him. “I decided to go to the wedding with you if you still want me to.”

“Um, sure I do,” he stammered. “What changed your mind?”

“It’s too much money to pass up just to go to a wedding for a couple hours,” I told him.

“Okay then,” he stammered. “How much will you charge me?”

“Five hundred flat,” I offered. “Unless it goes over five hours.

“Okay,” he replied happily. “That sounds very reasonable, considering what you charge for, you know, the other stuff you do.”

“When is it?” I demanded irritably, not liking his ‘other stuff you do’ comment.

“Two weeks from Saturday.”

“What time will you pick me up?”

“Well, the wedding is at two, so I guess around one.”

“Alrighty then. I’ll see you two weeks from Saturday at one.”

“Willa,” he blurted before I ended the call.  “If you were to agree to do this, I was kind of hoping we could get together sometime beforehand. You know, just to get to know each other a little bit before the wedding. That way it might feel more natural when we attend the wedding.”

“You mean like a date?” I asked with a tone of disgust. I was glad he couldn’t see the sour expression on my face.

“No, more like a couple of friends hanging for an hour or two. I’ll pay for your time.”

“So, what, like get a cup coffee or something?” I asked trying not to sound put off.

“Actually I had something else in mind,” he said. “How would you like to go horseback riding?”

I froze, absolutely stunned! I loved horseback riding, but I hadn’t done that since I was 14. Who was this guy, and how did he know that would be something I’d like? I had to focus hard to say composed.

“I’d go horseback riding,” I murmured into my phone. “But what makes you think I would want to?”

“When I was looking at Zella’s photos on the wall, I noticed a couple photos of a horse. One had a little girl who looked like it could have been you when you were a teenager.”

“Yeah, that was me,” I replied, hating how vulnerable I was beginning to sound.

“I’m good friends with some people who have horses, and they let me ride whenever I want to,” he replied.

“Sounds good,” I told him. We established a time for him to pick me up two days later.

“I like your truck,” I told Billy Bob when he picked me up 40 hours after we had talked on the phone. “What is it?”

“58 Chevy short box,” he replied. “This is my fun truck. My everyday truck is a Ford F250.”

The truck was partially fixed up. It was painted flat black and had four-wheel drive that definitely didn’t come from the factory almost 60 years previous. By the sound of the engine, it also wasn’t stock. It had bench seats, and I ran my hand across the dark grey upholstery which also didn’t come from the factory. I didn’t like how drawn I was feeling to this strange guy. Without thinking, I said something stupid to try to turn him off. “I lost my virginity on the bench seat of a pickup.”

“How nice for you,” Billy Bob said mildly. Yet I deciphered a hint of sarcasm.

“Yes and no,” I replied. “Teenage boys are horrible lovers.”

He glanced at me and raised an eyebrow.

“For the most part,” I said with a shrug. “Just saying. How about you?”

“What about me?”

“Where’d you lose yours?”

“Well, this is an interesting way to start a conversation,” Billy Bob said with a frown.

“You wanted us to get to know each other,” I replied.

“I guess I did,” Billy Bob said with a chuckle. “But that’s an aspect I don’t care to discuss. It’s kinda personal, don’t ya think?”

“Why, are you a virgin?” I sneered, trying to make him feel uncomfortable with what I perceived as limited sexual experience.

“I wish I was,” he said, looking me right in the eyes so intently I looked away. Why did I look away? This irritated me! I despised judgmental religionists. But Billy Bob was different. His attitude was… Loving.

 “It was after senior prom,” Billy Bob said, and then sighed regretfully.

“Was it the gal you want to make jealous at the wedding?”

Billy Bob winced. “I don’t like it put that way, but yeah. Just so you know, I want you there, so I don’t feel like I’m some kind of a lonesome clod while she’s arm in arm with my replacement.”

“And you plan to achieve that with a stunning female,” I said lightheartedly.

“Aren’t we a little conceited?” Billy Bob teased with an arched eyebrow.

“I’m just a realist,” I shrugged. “I know I’m very attractive. That’s why somebody is willing to pay me several hundred dollars to go to a wedding with him.”

Billy Bob wiggled uneasily in his seat, and I smiled maliciously to myself. I was also amused at how similarly we were dressed. Sure, we were clad for the same activity, but it was almost identical. We both wore old blue flannel shirts and baseball caps. We both wore faded Levi jeans and brown cowboy boots. Only Billy Bobs were well worn while mine didn’t have a single scuff. I had only worn these when a customer requested that I dress like a cowgirl. So they had never once accompanied my feet outdoors. Until now.

“You didn’t answer me,” I said. “Was this wedding girl your first?”

“First and only,” he said. “Carly is the only woman I’ve ever loved.”

“Love,” I said sarcastically.

“You’ve never been in love?”

“No,” I replied coldly.

“You don’t love Zella?”

“Oh, you’re just assuming were lesbians?”

“Are you?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“So you didn’t love the bench seat guy?”

“Hardly,” I snorted. “I didn’t even like him.”

Billy Bob’s mouth fell open, and he stared at me incredulously for a couple of seconds before turning his eyes back to the road.

“What?” I frowned. I was starting to think this was a mistake. I considered calling it off.

“You lost your virginity with a guy you didn’t even like. How, why?”

“He was physically attractive and popular,” I said with a shrug. “Look, Billy Bob, I don’t believe in love and intimacy like you seem to. Shouldn’t that be obvious since I am, you know, a prostitute of sorts?”

Billy Bob nodded in confirmation with a sad expression that surprisingly made me feel unsettled. It amazes me now that I had become so hardened. I didn’t even feel ashamed of what I had become. Until Billy Bob’s influence.

“Willa, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you,” Billy Bob said when he noticed my displeasure. He was so sweet and genuine; it was hard to be mad at him. But I felt like excrement nonetheless, so I sat frozen. “Willa, I was just trying to have dialogue with the topic you started.”

“Fine,” I snapped. “I thought we were just gonna get familiar with each other. I didn’t expect to have my life put under a microscope.”

“Like I said, I was just trying to converse with you,” Billy Bob said meekly. “But might you actually be uncomfortable with your life?”

“No, I am not uncomfortable with my life,” I barked the lie. “Look, this isn’t what I signed up for. Take me home. Deal’s off.”

“Willa, I’m truly sorry,” Billy Bob said with a soothing voice. “Let’s just not ask any more personal questions, okay?”

“You know you’re quite the hypocrite,” I snapped. “You act all high and mighty. Yet you’re doing this deceitful thing to make your ex-girlfriend jealous and paying hundreds of dollars for it to boot.”

Billy Bob looked at me with a stunned expression for a few seconds before looking away, seemingly ashamed, then he nodded. “You’re absolutely right,” he told me with a defeated voice. “Deal’s off. I’ll take you home.”

Now I was stunned as Billy Bob pulled over, prepared to turn around and take me back home. I wasn’t so much upset about the deal being off as I was the opportunity to go horseback riding. I also wanted to get to know about this man who could win over Free’s trust and affection so easily. But I sure got that off on the wrong foot.  

“Look, Billy, I’m sorry for being so sensitive,” I told him.

He moved to complete the turn around, and I caught his arm. We stayed parked on the side rode as first I sighed and then he sighed.

“Billy Bob, let’s go forward with the project, only without the personal stuff, okay?” I petitioned. “It’s fine if we get a little familiar. But it’s not like we’re trying to become best friends, right?”

He nodded, and we resumed driving in silence. I glanced at Billy Bob. His shirt was rather snug, and he had the first two buttons undone. He had an awesome physique. He wasn’t the most handsome man on the planet, but he definitely wasn’t ugly. He had a bit of a wedge-shaped face, a kind of flat nose, and narrow eyes. His wavy, light brown hair and soft lips were his best features. The thing is, his character and gentle personality made him very attractive to me, enhancing his physical appearance. And I wasn’t used to being drawn to men. I think that’s why I was acting squirrely.

“How do you know these people?” I inquired about the horse owners as the silence began making me uncomfortable.

“Ella Manning goes to the church I used to attend with Carly,” Billy Bob said. “Two years ago, she began treatment for leukemia. She’s now finally in remission. Hayden, her husband, is becoming increasingly plagued by arthritis. So I help them out around their hobby farm. In turn, I have unlimited access to their horses, four wheelers, and what not. They’re like a second family to me. I love them to death.”

“So these people are from your ex’s church? Does that make things awkward?”

“Just Ella attends since Hayden doesn’t go to church. No, it’s not awkward at all. After Carly left me, most people at church took my side, especially the Mannings. Hayden absolutely despises Carly.”

“How’s that work?” I asked with a frown. “I mean, you go to a church where you see your ex with another man every week. Yet it’s her church originally, but most people take your side. Sounds very weird and awkward.”

“I don’t go to church there anymore,” he replied. “Until recently I’ve been, um… Adrift or even backslidden.”

“What’s backslidden?”

“Fallen away.”

“Fallen away from what?”

He shrugged and winced. “Following God, at least to the fullest.”

“What does following your God entail?”

“Jesus said if you love Me, keep my commandments,” he replied. Then he told me where it was in the Bible. “John 14:15.”

“Do as you will shall be the whole of the law,” I heard myself say. I didn’t understand why I said that and didn’t think too deeply about its meaning. I was just being obstinate.

“Are you a Satanist?” Billy asked with an air of concern.

“No… why?”

“That’s right out of the Satanic, so called, bible.”

“So,” I said defiantly as I crossed my arms. “I believe in free will.”

“Me too.”

“Are you a Satanist?” I spit sarcastically.

“Of course not.”

“Then how can you believe in free will? Your God in the Bible killed people that didn’t follow Him.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Oh yeah? Tell me about Sodom and Gomorrah. Or maybe you’ve heard of Noah’s Ark and a flood that destroyed almost all of the human population?”

“God gave the human race plenty of time to repent before He eradicated evil. In the case of Noah, he spent one hundred and twenty years building the Ark and petitioning people to join him.”

“Well, if God is so good, why does He allow suffering?”

“It goes back to what you said, free will. You can’t have love without choice. This world of sin and suffering is here because Satan and a third of the angels rebelled in heaven. In a nutshell, this earth is a sin experiment caused by Satan and a third of the angels. You can read about it in Revelation chapter 12, and Isaiah 14, beginning with verse 12.”

“I don’t want to read about it,” I said as my brain whirled and my emotions stirred. Then losing control I blurted my deepest, darkest secret. In the state of Iowa, only Zella knew this. And I didn’t even tell her until we knew each other for two years. So why did I tell Billy Bob in just our second encounter? “Where was God when my dad murdered my mother?”

Billy glanced at me with a stunned expression. I couldn’t stop tears from coming, and this only increased my anger. I should have never agreed to go out with this naïve fool!

That’s what I thought at the time. I now view him as the wisest man I’ve personally known. He pulled the truck over. He took my hand in his. I jerked it away. He didn’t try to take it again, but he spoke ever so softly and caringly. “Oh Willa. So that’s why your face was so filled with pain in that horse picture.”

“He hadn’t killed her yet,” I replied with a small, squeaky voice that betrayed the rage boiling inside me. “It was a couple months after that day the photo was taken.”

“But he’d already killed your spirit,” Billy said quietly.

I felt touched that he seemed to get me. But I was embarrassed with my vulnerability. Then the bitterness at the cards life dealt me rose into anger. “You didn’t answer me, Billy! Where was God when my dad obliterated my beautiful mother’s face with a gun blast?”

Until then I had been avoiding his gaze. But now I wanted to shoot anger lazers from my eyes into his. But my breath caught a little when I looked at him. Tears were streaming from his eyes, and I had never been looked at with such love and compassion. His lower lip trembled as he spoke words that would echo in my head, and ultimately change my life.

Gently and lovingly he spoke. “God was at the same place He was when His son was brutally murdered for the sins of the world. He knows and understands your pain, Willa. And one day soon, He will end all pain and suffering, and wipe away all tears. That’s found in Revelation 21:4.”

I began to fall in love with Billy Bob and God simultaneously after this encounter. But Billy was in love with his ex and wanted her back. Thankfully, God was available as I slowly opened my heart to my Creator and Redeemer!

CHAPTER 3

BILLY BOB

“I don’t know if I told you,” Lyle said as we drove to his hooker’s place of… business. “You don’t have sex with Willa. Willa has sex with you.”

I ignored him because, for my intentions, it was irrelevant. Therefore it didn’t matter that I had no idea what he meant.

“What I mean,” he continued, “is that Willa is a dominatrix. But that’s what you need, trust me. So be thinking along the lines of how you want to be submissive. You apparently were turned on by Carly controlling you; Willa will take you to another level. She’s got numerous ways to tie you up and spank you. She can gag you, bind your …”

“I get the point, Lyle,” I said, cutting him off. I began to wonder if I was making a huge mistake in seeking a professional date.

We arrived at an old two-story brick house on the outskirts of town. It was actually a quaint, rustic structure that looked like it could be a bed and breakfast. There was a rout iron fence surrounding a rather large grassy lot with four big oak trees in front of the house. The back yard was abundant with plants and had a huge garden. There was a colorful three-by-four-foot sign hanging from a post that said, ‘Mystic Garden,’ with every other letter in red, yellow, orange, green, and blue. Below that in slightly smaller lettering, it read, ‘Herbs, Spices, Produce, and Holistic’. Below that it read ‘Physic Readings by Appointment Only.’

“This isn’t what I pictured a whorehouse would look like,” I told Lyle. The word whorehouse felt strange and dirty on my lips. But like a fool, I proceeded on.

“It’s not necessarily a whorehouse. You see, Willa and her friend Zella La Stella live upstairs,” Lyle said as he pointed to the second floor. “Zella has this holistic market type thing on the first floor, and Willa’s sex chamber is downstairs with the psychic reading room.”

“Sex chamber,” I mumbled not even trying to hide my disgust. What was I doing here? I should leave now! But Lyle was generous enough to be paying, and I wasn’t here for sex. I was here for a companion to accompany me at a social function. And I was willing to pay her handsomely because she was very attractive. I wanted to buy what Lyle would later describe as arm candy.

“It sounds more twisted than it actually is,” Lyle said as he waved a dismissive hand.

“Psychic readings too?” I scoffed. “It’s bad enough I’m see a professional…”

“Don’t knock it – they’re good,” Lyle interrupted.

“So you’ve had psychic readings done?”

“Just once.”

A bell tinkled when we entered the little shop. It smelled fragrant with herbs and spices, and there were a couple rows of canisters, filled with several different varieties. There were also a couple rows of shelves with cans and bagged items stocked on them. Stuff like nuts and dried fruit.

A very beautiful African American woman with high cheek bones and long strands of beaded braids was behind a counter, looking at a papers as she worked a calculator. A dog that looked part chocolate Lab and part German Shepherd appeared and growled at us.

“Free, be a good girl,” the stunning looking woman said.

“Hi, Zella,” Lyle said.

“Hi, Lyle.”

I was about to introduce myself as William when Lyle spoke before me. “Zella, this is Billy Bob.”

“Nice to meet you, Billy Bob,” the woman said with a salesperson’s smile as she extended her hand. “Willa said Lyle was bringing a new client today, you must be him.” I felt my face heat with shame as I realized that Zella thought I was there to have all those things Lyle listed done to me. The dog growled again as we shook hands.

  “I know how you love animals, Billy Bob,” Lyle told me authoritatively. “But keep your distance from Free. She doesn’t like dudes at all.”

“She’s a rescue dog,” Zella explained. “She was mistreated by a man or maybe even men. She doesn’t take to the male population at all.”

“Ironic, huh?” Lyle said with a silly grin. “I mean, given what enterprise Willa runs out of here.”

 “Free keeps her distance,” Zella defended. “She only gets her hackles up if a guy gets too close. She usually stays upstairs. But I did some painting, and I didn’t want her up there breathing the fumes. She’ll give a warning snap first, before she actually would bite. She’s really a sweet girl; she just tries to protect herself because she doesn’t trust men.”

“Frankly, I don’t blame her,” Lyle said with a laugh. This only made me feel more like a pervert.

A backroom door opened and the woman from the magazine Lyle forced me to look at emerged. She was even more gorgeous in person. She had on a red spandex top that clung to her chest as if it were painted on. She wore a black leather miniskirt, black stockings, and lady’s combat boots that laced almost up to her knees. Even though she offered me her hand with a big smile, her lovely golden eyes were wary and cool.

“Hi, nice to meet you, Mr. …” she looked at Lyle for a cue.

I opened my mouth to tell her my name was William, but Lyle beat me to it. “His name is Billy Bob Booker.”

“Billy Bob,” she repeated and beamed a fake smile at me.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I stammered as we shook hands. I was embarrassed how clammy and moist they must have felt due to my nervousness.

“So, who’s going first, or are we doing a combo?” Willa asked cheerfully.

“Oh no, no combo, Willa,” Lyle replied quickly. “We’ll be going separately.”

“Okay then,” Willa said as she placed hands on her hips. “Once again, who goes first?”

“Lyle can,” I blurted. I turned my gaze away from her revealing outfit. I didn’t know it at the time, but she noticed. She later revealed I was the only client she ever had that did something like that.

“Okay then,” Willa said, clapping her hands once and twisting merrily like a happy high school cheerleader. Her lovely eyes danced with excitement, yet a subtle darkness didn’t leave her demeanor. “Just so you know, Billy Bob, I’m not gonna charge you for the first ten minutes so we can go over my requirements.” I nodded, and then watched Willa and Lyle disappear down the stairwell.

“There’s a chair over there if you want to sit,” Zella said before she went back to her papers and calculator.

“Thank you,” I replied, but I was too worked up to just sit. Instead I wandered around the store. I noticed a couple dozen framed pictures of animals on the wall opposite Zella’s counter. I gazed at various photos of dogs, cats and two of a horse that looked similar to one some good friends of mine owned.

“Those are recue animals I’ve found homes for,” Zella told me when she noticed my observation.

“Oh, nice,” I said. “Are you looking for a home for Free also?” Free recognized her name and a male voice that said it. She stood defensively with a low growl.

“No, I’m keeping Free,” Zella sighed. “She and I have sort of a bond I just can’t bear to break.”

“So, the horse. Was it in an abusive situation, too?”

Zella looked at me sharply, with something like subtle anger or hostility. Then her eyes softened. “Not necessarily the horse, just the girl,” was all she said before she returned to her paperwork.

I looked again at one of the two photos. A girl with reddish brown hair was partially hidden as she held the halter. Willa’s hair was darker now, but I was sure that it was her. I ambled around the counter and came within a couple feet of Free. Her hackles rose and she growled loudly. I stood and looked at the canine sympathetically. She had a slight disfigurement with her left eye socket. She was probably blind in that eye. She had several scars that looked like they came from being burnt. Did some low life do that to this beautiful dog? I felt tears well.

“Easy, girl,” Zella soothed and then instructed me sternly. “Can you please step away from her, Billy Bob?”

Lyle was right; I was an intense animal lover. Instead of stepping away, I crouched and began talking softly to Free, telling her I was a friend not a foe. She growled again, but then I asked her about her plight in gentle tones. Her tail thumped twice. A little whimper of longing emitted from her as she took a cautious step toward me. Her tail moved a little more and then went still. I told her she was in a safe place where she was loved and that I loved her, too. Her tail began to swing again.

I’m not saying Free knew the English language, but she seemed to know love. She took more cautious steps toward me. First, I slowly eased the back of my hand toward her, and she sniffed it tentatively. Then she gave it a quick lick. I ever so gently rubbed my fingers on the lower side of her muzzle. Then I pulled my open hand an inch away as I talked softly to her. She brushed her head against my hand. I ever so slowly began to rub and then scratch her ears.

I could tell by the way she moved that her limbs had been injured before. She was no more than five years old, and she wouldn’t have moved so stiffly if she hadn’t been horribly abused. I continued to talk softly to her. She eventually lowered and showed me her belly, which I began to scratch. I felt myself smile and then I chuckled as I looked up at Zella. She stared at me with her mouth agape. I was just beginning to worry that she disapproved when Lyle and Willa burst through the basement door. The commotion caused Free to spring up and scramble away with a couple barks. Lyle looked disheveled, but happy.

“Willa said to go down and wait for her in the chamber,” Lyle told me.

“The chamber,” I mumbled with skepticism.

“You can’t miss it,” Lyle said. “First, you’ll enter a little room where Zella and Willa do psychic readings. Then there will be a bookcase that opens into a door that goes into the chamber. The door should be open. Just go in and get comfortable.”

I went down the stairs, yet again wondering why I agreed to come here. I was surprised to see countless antiquey looking things. It was like a large booth from a flea market. There were   old neon signs, old movie posters, along with countless old pictures and old metal signs. There were several kerosene lamps and candles lit. I saw the opening with the bookcase that served as a secret door and cautiously entered the chamber.

It looked like part torture chamber and part medical exam room. There were tables with whips and restraints. There was leather, lace, and silk. A row of glass display cases lined one wall, two-thirds of which contained devices and gadgets for sale that I’d never seen or imagined before.

“See anything you like?” Willa’s voice startled me.

“No,” I blurted nervously as my head bumped into a glass display. “I mean, I was just looking.”

 Willa was dressed completely differently now. She wore a light blue dress with short white gloves and white heels, and her hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She had gone from wild biker chick to 1950s era sexy housewife with flesh-colored stockings that had a black line running up the back.

“Lyle tells me you have mommy issues,” she purred, “So I thought you might like this.”

“Lyle smokes too much dope,” I replied without thinking.

“Nothing wrong with that!” Willa said with a grin. “So, let’s discuss the guidelines.”

She began to rattle off many of the things Lyle suggested. She also added some dos and don’ts that Lyle hadn’t mentioned. Mostly don’ts.

“Actually, Willa, I’m not interested in your typical services.”

“What do you mean?” Her pretty face formed a skeptical frown.

“What I mean is,” I replied tentatively, “I don’t want to do anything sexual.”

“Do you not find me attractive?” she asked as if offended. “I’ve never had a straight guy not find me attractive.”

“No, that’s not it,” I reassured her. “You are incredibly, mind-blowingly attractive. Physically anyway.”

“Physically anyway?” she spit, crossing her arms and trying to make her face ugly, which didn’t seem possible. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” I sputtered. “I don’t even know you. I didn’t mean to sound judgmental. Because I’m not, you know, judgmental. I don’t think. Boy, do I ever not think. Obviously, I have my own issues, or otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“So, do you have gay tendencies then?” she asked. “I can’t guarantee I’ll make you like girls.”

“I’m not gay,” I replied, shaking my head.

“Lyle said you are his best friend, but you two seem like polar opposites.”

“Well, we’ve been something like best friends since elementary school,” I told her.

“I see,” she said and then paused, once again appearing cautious. “So, why are you here then if your interests are not of a sexual nature?”

“I wanted to see if we could negotiate a deal for you to go to a wedding with me,” I said.

Her mouth gaped open with surprise as she processed my request.

“So you don’t want to get kinky with me?” she inquired. I shook my head. “You want me to be an escort for you?” she asked slowly.

“I want you to pretend to be, um, somebody I’m seeing, but nothing serious.”

“So you want me to be an escort?”

“I don’t like the way that sounds.”

“It is what it is,” she said with a shrug.

“This was a big mistake,” I sighed as I jammed my hands into my pockets. “I don’t know why I thought it might work. I guess I was desperate. Well, thanks for your time.”

I turned toward the bookcase door, but Willa grabbed my arm. “Billy Bob, you’ve still got more than twenty minutes,” she said with curiosity on her face.  “If you don’t want me to get naked and tie you up, you could at least tell me what you were hoping for. What’s going on?”

 As I told Willa the story of Carly and me, I couldn’t look at her. I was suffering from a cross between shame for being there and pain from reliving the heartbreak. When I finished, I forced myself to look at her. I was surprised to see her gazing at me as she wiped what I thought was a tear from her eye. Then she looked at her finger, scowled, and flicked away a chunk of mascara.

“I’m sorry, Billy Bob,” she said with a sigh. “I feel for you and all, but I just don’t do escort stuff.”

“I understand.”

She smiled sadly at me and patted my shoulder.

“Listen, you still have ten minutes left,” she said as she smiled seductively. “Let me at least handcuff you and then I’ll do a little strip tease.”

“No, thanks,” I said, wondering why she wanted to handcuff me first. I smiled pleasantly at her as I exited. I was actually more relieved than disappointed. “Consider the time left on the clock a tip. Can I ask you something though?”

“Sure.”

“You do psychic readings?”

“Zella and I both,” she said, smiling coyly. “Do you want to make an appointment?”

“No, thanks,” I replied. “Do you really believe you can read people’s future?”

“Do I detect a skeptic?” Willa asked, still wearing a teasing smile as she crossed her arms.

“Indeed you do.”

“Oh well,” she shrugged. “I wouldn’t be able to get a reading if you don’t believe.”

I nodded, and then we looked into each other’s eyes. She seemed to puff out her chest. I guessed she was trying to get me to look at her cleavage. With what she said and did next, there was no guessing about it. She made a move to lower her top.

“Look, I feel guilty taking your money without you getting any product, so to speak,” she said. “How about a quick peek?”

“No, thanks,” I smiled before I turned away from her to leave.

She pursed her lips and frowned. “Billy Bob, be straight with me. Am I washed up or are you gay?”

“Neither. It’s just, well, I have principles I live by,” I told her, then pursed my own lips and frowned. Did I just declare I have principles a minute after I sought the employment of a prostitute?             The human heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked, who can know it? (Jeremiah 17:9)

CHAPTER 2

BILLY BOB

“So this Amish family is in a big city hotel for the first time,” Lyle began to tell me a joke as we did some preventive maintenance on equipment in Lake Enterprises shop. Actually, Lyle was watching me do the work.

“So the son is fascinated with a perfectly straight crack in the wall where a dozen lit up numbers hung above it. ‘Papa what’s this?’ the young man asked his father. The father scratched his beard and frowned as he looked it over. All of a sudden, the crack in the wall separated, revealing what appeared to be a closet. Then an old woman walked into the closet and the wall sealed back up. The numbers above the crack began flashing, and a minute or two later, the wall opened again. A young, attractive looking woman walked out. ‘Quick son! Go get your mother!’ the Amish man told his son.” Lyle burst into laughter.

“Huh. Good one,” I replied, trying to chuckle as I forced a smile.

“Come on!” Lyle barked as he spread his arms wide.

“What?”

“That was funny.”

“I laughed.”

“You barely grunted.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be making fun of religious people.”

“I’m not making fun, that was just a little harmless humor. How about a blonde joke then?”

I smiled sardonically and shook my head. “What do you do all day, anyway?”

“What do you mean?” Lyle asked with a dismissive shrug.

“Well, at least looking at jokes is better than what you usually look at.”

For years Lyle did grunt work with the rest of us earth workers. Recently, his father decided he had paid his dues, and it was time for him to start learning to run the business side of the landscaping division. From where I sat, he seemed to be smoking pot and looking at porn more than he was running the division.

I was concerned for Lyle, and I frequently reprimanded him. Sometimes he made excuses, other times he shrugged me off.  He had been slowly developing good character when he was working directly with the rest of us grunts. Ironically, when he was given more responsibility, he delegated to us underlings all that he could. Then he spent the rest of the time following the dictates of his carnal nature.  

As close friends, he and I were an odd couple. I was big, rugged, and homely. Lyle was slight, but with toned muscles. With his short blonde hair and foxlike facial features, he looked like he should be on the cover of a teen magazine. His expensive clothes only added to his pretty boy good looks.

But he knew I understood the inner pain he grew up with. It was a very personal struggle he kept hid from the rest of the world. It began when we were eight years old, and his mother died from cancer. In the days and weeks after, he had publicly appeared stoic. He ended up having a breakdown, I was there for him, and we have been best of friends ever since. I’ll tell you what happened some other time.

“What do you mean?” Lyle asked again.

“Never mind,” I said waving him off.

“Talk to me, Billy Bob,” Lyle demanded. “Why have you been in a funk the last couple of days?”

I never really liked being called Billy Bob.  But it is funny how things get started. At the beginning of one elementary school year, a teacher thought it would be a good idea to begin role call using full names, including the middle. He started in alphabetical order, and I was the third one he called.

“William Robert Booker,” Mr. Finke had barked.

 “Old William Robert,” my buddy Cooper had chimed in.

“You mean ol’ Billy Bob,” Lyle had added.

“Billy Bob Booker,” my other pal Gabe had echoed with a laugh.

“Shut up,” I remember ordering the trio.

“Boys, do I need to send you to the office?” Mr. Finke had scolded. “No,” the four of us had whined at the same time. Mr. Finke stopped using full names after the little fiasco it caused. But from that day on, I was known as Billy Bob among my peers.

“I’m not in a funk,” I told Lyle as I wondered whether he was right, and I had just lied.

“You know what you need?” Lyle asked as he pointed a finger in my face.

“Enlighten me,” I sighed.

“You need a little lovin’.”

“That’s a great idea, Lyle. But not only do I not have a wife, I don’t even have a girlfriend.”

“Who needs a wife or girlfriend?” Lyle pondered.

“I do.”

Lyle rolled his eyes. “I thought you quit religion when you broke up with what’s her lips.”

“I stopped going to Carly’s church,” I explained. “I didn’t stop practicing Christianity. As a matter of fact, I recently started going to Dirk Easton’s church a few months ago.”

“The Easton brothers go to church?” Lyle asked with a frown and sarcastic smile.

The Easton brothers had a tree service that our company started using right about the time Carly and I broke up. Getting to know Dirk Easton and his lovely wife was a God send. His brother Devin, who was night to his brother’s day, was a fellow I could do without. That said, I did get along with him just fine. “I didn’t say the brothers. I said Dirk.”

“I see,” Lyle replied skeptically. “Well, I happen to know Devin is on a first name basis with numerous strippers.”

“Is Dirk his brother’s keeper?”

“If ever there was a case of blood being thicker than water, it is with the two of them,” Lyle replied. “So you’re gonna tell me one’s a saint and the other’s a sinner?”

“It is what it is,” I responded. “Dirk’s given me no reason to believe he’s anything other than a devout Christian.”   

Lyle gave me not only another eye roll, but hands on hips and a long pause with pursed lips. “Look, never mind the Easton brothers, tell me why you’ve been in a funk lately.”

“Have I?” I asked with a wince.

“Ya think?”

“Well,” I sighed, “I guess it mostly stems from the fact that I have to go to a wedding that Carly will be at with her guy… My replacement.”

“Man, I thought you were over her,” Lyle said, waving his arms with frustration.

“I am,” I said and then paused, “for the most part. The main thing is, like I said, she will be there with her guy and I’ll be like some kind of wallflower.”

“You won’t be a wallflower,” Lyle said waving a hand. “It’s a wedding, not a dance.”

“But they usually dance at weddings, don’t they?”

“Man, that Carly sure used to boss you around,” Lyle said, shaking his head and pursing his lips again. “She’d snap her fingers, tell you to jump, and you’d ask how high. You’ve been broken up for half a year now, and it seems she’s still controlling you.”

“It might have appeared that way,” I mumbled. “Maybe I just liked trying to please her.”

“I know, I know. That’s what I’m saying,” Lyle said, showing me his palms. “So you might have some type of mother complex going on with Carly.”

“You missed your calling as a psychologist,” I replied sarcastically.

“Don’t get sensitive,” Lyle said. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be dominated by a woman. I’m into it myself.”

“Do tell,” I made the mistake of replying mockingly. So Lyle told me. There was a sharp crack as Lyle snapped his fingers. It actually made me jolt a little.

“Why didn’t I think of it before?” Lyle enthused. “I’ve been seeing this chick named Willa. She specializes in being a dominatrix. Her prices are pretty reasonable for how hot and classy she is, and it’s by referral only, and I’ll gladly refer ya.”

“You mean to tell me that you’re seeing a prostitute?”

“Ssshh,” Lyle responded, waving his hands up and down to signal be quiet. “Yeah, I guess you could say she’s a type of prostitute.”

“Why would you do that? You’re a good-looking successful guy who’s never had trouble getting a girl.”

“You don’t just pay a hooker for sex, you pay them to go away afterward,” he told me.

“Well, I would never under any circumstance use a prostitute. Ever!” I told him emphatically. Minutes later, I considered a way I could use a prostitute.

“Billy Bob, you’ve got to see this chick,” Lyle pleaded, showing me both of his palms again. “She’s not just smoking hot. She’s blazing hot. Plus, you need an ‘in’ with her, and I’m it for you. She was even a centerfold. As a matter of fact, hold on.”

Lyle rapidly walked away from me and went to his office. I shook my head in disgust as I finished changing the fuel filter on the skid loader on which I was working. When Lyle returned carrying a magazine, I was screwing the cover off the air filter.

“Check this out,” Lyle commanded.

“I’m not looking at a porn magazine,” I demanded.

“It’s not porn, it’s erotica.”

“Whatever, I’m not looking at erotica,” I insisted.

“Just one look,” he urged, waving the magazine at me.

“No! Absolutely not!”

He stuck the magazine right in front of my face. I abruptly turned my head, but I had caught a glimpse. She was clothed in the image, so my moral sensibility became compromised. As a result, some male instinct caused my head to rotate back toward the earthly goddess.

“Holy smokes!” I blurted as I grabbed the periodical from Lyle’s hand, touching a dirty magazine for the first time in my life.

“See?” Lyle crooned, quite pleased with himself.

“Her eyes are amazing,” I mumbled.

“Her eyes!” Lyle shouted as he put a hand on my shoulder. Then he mocked sympathy. “Where did you go wrong, my dear friend?”

“’Tis you and not I who has strayed from desiring purity of soul,” I told him as I also placed a hand on his shoulder.

Lyle laughed, shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I concede,” he chuckled. “’Tis you that be the more righteous man than I.”

“Tisk, tisk, dear brother,” I replied. “All have sinned and come short of the glory of God.”

“Then what’s the point?” Lyle frowned with spread arms.

“Well, we still need to obey God,” I said.

“But we’re saved by grace,” Lyle lamented.

 “Grace isn’t a license to sin.”

“It is to me,” Lyle said. “I just go to confession.”

“When’s the last time you even went to confession?”

“I thought you didn’t believe in confessing to a priest?” Lyle frowned.

“I don’t.”

“Then don’t bother me about how often I go to confession.”

I pulled a little Bible out of my pocket and read Romans 6:14-18 to him.

“Stop with the religious stuff,” Lyle said, frantically waving his hands around his head. “Just look at the pretty lady. God’s best creation in my opinion.”

The layout Lyle had displayed showed the stunning woman in an Old West setting, leaning on a bar in a saloon. She wore a long, shiny, green dress that had one black-stockinged leg protruding from a split on the side. Her long flowing brown hair draped over both shoulders. She had the facial features of a model, which it seemed she was. But her eyes were the most beautiful I had ever seen. Their unique golden color with an almond shape just large enough to make her cute on top of striking. Why was she in a nude magazine instead of Cosmopolitan or something? Then again, I was the last person to know about such things.

“So is Willa smoking hot, or what!”

“Her name’s not Willa,” I said. “This says her name is Mia Moody.”

“Oh, man,” Lyle said, slapping his thighs, rolling his eyes, and shaking his head. “Leave it to Billy Bob Booker to not only look at the eyes, but actually read a porn mag instead of totally absorbing the pictures.”

“You said it wasn’t porn, that it’s, what’d you call it, erotica?”

“Right, right,” he replied. “But come on, you don’t think she’s blazing hot?”

“Of course she’s hot,” I replied, but then lamented. “But what a shame.”

“What’s a shame?” Lyle demanded.

“That this pristine beauty sells herself sexually.”

“Are you kidding me?” Lyle shrilled. “It’s a blessing.”

“That’s blasphemous!”

“Huh?”

“You can’t call a woman so desperate or at least greedy enough to sell sexual favors a blessing,” I scolded.

“What do I call it then?”

“Like I said, a shame. Or how about a disgrace.”

“How about fortunate?”

“Whatever. I guess it’s better than a blessing,” I compromised. “It’s still just plain wrong, though.”

I turned to the next page to discover four more photos of Willa. With each progression, she had removed more clothing. In the last one I glimpsed, she was topless. I could feel my eyebrows shoot up before I quickly closed the magazine.

“They’re natural and perfect,” Lyle said enthusiastically.

I handed the magazine back to Lyle and he frowned.

“What are you doing? There’s more,” he scolded. “It only gets better. Keep looking.”

“I’ve seen enough.”

“But there’s more,” Lyle whined. “There’s also less, if you know what I mean. You didn’t even get to the centerfold. Willa was the centerfold for April 2012. She’s wearing stockings and nothing else. To top it off, she’s demonstrating how flexible she is on top of the bar.”

“Well, good for her,” I said.

 Lyle continued to flip through the pages and put them into my vision. I proceeded to work on the skid loader, focusing hard on ignoring Lyle. I’m ashamed to admit that I was severely tempted to peek. However, it was right then and there that my plan first took shape.

“Lyle, how much does she charge?” I wanted to know.

“That’s my boy,” Lyle cooed. “A hundred bucks for a half hour.”

How long would the wedding and reception take, three or four hours? If she would even agree to it, that would mean around eight hundred dollars, give or take. It would have probably cost more than that in lawyer’s fees alone if Carly and I had been married and divorced.

“Look, I’ll tell you what,” he almost whispered. “The first one’s on me. How about it?”

I smiled. That would be a perfect opportunity to make my proposition to Willa and see if we could work out a deal. Maybe she would charge less to go on a date rather than have sex or whatever a dominatrix does.

 “Are you sure?” I asked Lyle, feeling a little guilty that I intended to use Willa’s time for negotiating a possible date rather than what Lyle intended me to use it for.

“Sure, I’m sure! That’s my Billy Bob!” Lyle exclaimed as he slapped my back. “You won’t regret it.” He was right. But it would be in the long run, and not without difficulties.

PROLOUGE

BILLY BOB BOOKER

Carly and I sat on a park bench on a beautiful afternoon. We were watching Willa playing with her one-year-old son on a slide. Then Carly’s toddler daughter joined the mother-son duo. Willa beamed at the tiny pair as she helped both take turns negotiating the slide.

Willa was a vision of wholesome beauty in her long yellow dress. The sunlight was glowing off her long, silky, brown hair, and her large, exotic amber eyes shined with joy as she supervised the tiny people. A little bump protruded from her abdomen where a second child was developing. You’d never have guessed that, not quite two years previous, she’d been a hooker.

That’s actually how I met Willa. I’d solicited her services – not for sex, but I’d hired her to go to a wedding with me. Around two years before that, Carly, who had been my longtime girlfriend, had left me for another man. We were both invited to the wedding of mutual friends, and I didn’t want to show up alone. I’m ashamed to admit that I offered to pay Willa to attend that wedding with me and pose as my girlfriend.

“She’s truly amazing, Billy,” Carly smiled reluctantly. “You know, she’s made me realize how hurt you must have felt when I was with Niles. Isn’t life strange, though? If you wouldn’t have hired Willa to make me jealous, she might still be a hooker. Instead, she’s a married mother of almost two children.”

“I’m just glad my childish ploy ended up working out in the long run,” I said, shaking my head. “I still feel guilty that you and Niles broke up shortly afterward. I admit that I wanted you to be jealous; but beyond that, I had no devious intentions. I just didn’t want to feel like a wallflower shmuck that had been ditched when I attended the wedding. But come on, you were mine first before Niles.”

She gave my hand a squeeze. “Look, I admit that seeing you with Willa made me jealous, but you know that’s not why Niles and I broke up. I had realized by that time that he was a jerk and I had made the biggest mistake of my life leaving you for him. I actually was surprised when you forgave me and took me back. You know what, though? I don’t think you ever told me exactly how you found Willa.”

“What do you mean?” I asked with some reservation.

“I had confessed to you how selfish I’d been and how wrongly I felt I’d treated you,” she told me. “Yet you, being the good Christian man that you are, found it in your heart to forgive me. So, tell me – how did this high standard guy I’m sitting next to find a prostitute to pretend to pose as his girlfriend? I guess I always assumed you found her via some type of back-page advertisement.”

“No, it wasn’t that at all,” I told her. “One of my biggest sins ever was having premarital sex with you in the first place. That’s what led me to utter foolishness and almost obsession with wanting to get you back, and in desperation, trying to hire a prostitute.”

“Okay, okay,” Carly whined with irritation. “We’ve been over this before. I know that Willa sold sexual favors, but you’ve never told me about how and where you met Willa. We’ve been over the why you sought Willa, I’d like to know how and where.”

“Can you promise to keep it a secret?”

“Of course,” she replied, seeming insulted.

“Lyle was using her services, and he suggested I do likewise,” I told her.

“Well, that doesn’t surprise me even a little,” Carly frowned. “I never understood why a wholesome, rugged guy like you associated with a smarmy womanizing weasel like Lyle.”

Lyle Lake had been my best friend since childhood, and Carly’s judgmental statement about Lyle irritated me to the core. And she proved she wasn’t so perfect herself. Though Carly didn’t cheat on me physically before our breakup, she certainly did in spirit by desiring to be with Niles. Jesus’s admonition during His sermon on the mount in Matthew 5:28 applies to women also.

“But you didn’t use Willa for any form of intimacy, right?”  Carly asked with a scowl.

“No,” I said emphatically. Now I had to fight down anger. Even though I didn’t have sex with Willa when I hired her services, why should Carly care? After all, she’d had been sleeping with Dr. Niles when Willa was considered under my employment.

“So what if I had been intimate with her?” I asked with a determined, even tone. “You had broken up with me, remember?”

“Oh, I know,” she said, giving my hand another squeeze. “I’m just being nosey and curious; I’m certainly not passing any type of judgment. I’m just so impressed how you ultimately turned a horrible situation into a blessing.”

Although part of me felt flattered by her words, the rest of me was annoyed that she had caused the horrible situation. Yet it amazed me that God can take an ugly situation and make it beautiful. My mind’s eye went back to the way Willa looked when I first saw her. I shook off that lustful image and beheld the lovely image of her and the children laughing.

“So it was actually Lyle’s idea to use Willa to make me jealous?” Carly continued her probe into the past.

“No, he suggested I use Willa for sex,” I told her bluntly. “After Lyle showed me pictures of her in an adult magazine and what a stunningly attractive woman she was, I came up with the idea of taking her to Baily and Tyrone’s wedding.”

Carly’s mouth gaped open as if in shock, even as her eyes danced with glee. “What?” she asked with a laugh. “Billy Bob Booker has looked at porn?”

“No,” I began to stammer. “Well, not exactly. I mean, it was brief. Just a few pages of Willa in a men’s magazine. Lyle stuck it right in my face before I knew what he was doing. I almost had no choice… I think… Anyway, I didn’t see people having sex, so it wasn’t porn… I think… It was just Willa by herself. I think they call it a layout or erotica or some such.”

“So, she was nude in this layout?” Carly smirked sarcastically.

“Well… Yeah,” I replied uncomfortably, as I wiggled on the bench.

“Once again, life is strange,” Carly said as she watched her daughter play with Willa’s son. “This beautiful, wholesome vision wouldn’t be happening right here in front of us if you hadn’t looked at a girly magazine. Isn’t it strange that’s where it all began?”

No, I thought to myself. It began when Carly not only turned down my marriage proposal, but in the next breath told me there was someone else. So was it her infidelity or my impropriety that led to this wholesome image? Both? Was it accidental or providential? Both?

CHAPTER 1

TWO YEARS PREVIOUS

BILLY BOB

Carly Brooks and I became an item during our sophomore year of high school. Her conservative, evangelical church strongly encouraged their young little lambs to marry within the faith. So once Carly and I became established as a couple, I joined her church.

One of the main things that drew me to Carly when we became lab partners in a science class at the beginning of our sophomore year was her strange mixture of confidence and shy insecurity. Plus, I thought she was beautiful. However, I could tell that my friends thought she was average looking at best. Early on Lyle even called her a dog. It was the closest I ever came to punching him. He could tell, and never said it again.

Carly was bigger than the average girl, but strong and athletic. She was just under six feet tall. She had a long blonde hair, but it was often course and frizzy. Her blue eyes were close set, which gave her a stern appearance. Her nose was narrow, and her lips were thin. When she wasn’t smiling, I could see how my buddies were less than impressed with her appearance. But she had nice skin, and even a five-foot five buddy of mine admired her long legs as she performed on the volleyball court.

As for myself, I was certainly no prize. My face seemed like a wedge, and my flat nose made me look like a thug. My own eyes were blue and close set, getting us the occasional inquiry of being brother and sister. My light brown hair was curly and unruly, but it garnered me compliments for some reason, especially in the summer when it acquired blondish highlights from countless hours in the sun.

I was big at six-foot-five when I was fully grown and around two hundred thirty pounds. This made Carly happy, as being with me made her look smaller. For a long time, I had virtually zero body fat as I had always exercised vigorously when I wasn’t working as a landscaper. This was a trade I had picked up at the age of sixteen thanks to my good pal Lyle.

Lyle’s father, Larry Lake, was the proprietor of Lake Enterprises. It was a very successful, generational company that specialized in property with three divisions: development, realty, and landscaping. His older brother, Lance, was groomed to run development. His sister, Lisa, ran reality, and Lyle, the youngest and most spoiled, oversaw landscaping.

When we were in high school, Carly and I had been saving ourselves for marriage. To be honest, I found this to be a daunting task, yet a worthwhile endeavor. However, by the time we were seniors, Carly and I had progressed from holding hands and sharing chaste kisses to rather heavy make-out sessions with bodily explorations. This inevitably ended up with us consummating our relationship the night of our senior prom. Personally, I justified this with the concept that we were going to get married one day anyway, so why wait? We already were committed, weren’t we? Apparently not.

Hindsight is better than foresight, and Biblical principles are the best guide to life. If I could do it over, not only would I have not had premarital sex, I wouldn’t have indulged in the heavy make-out sessions either. But the complicated thing about being an immature teenager, is hormones so easily overrule principle.

To be honest, the feelings of shame and guilt that entered my brain due to disobedience to spiritual laws were overpowered by my love, lust, and desire for Carly. Also, the more we indulge sin rather than repent, the less offensive it seems to us. I’ve learned the hard way that we can’t trust feelings, but we can trust truth.

Also, the demonic realm is a spirit of force. When you couple that with our sinful natures, for all have sinned (Romans 3:23). Apart from God we are no match for spiritual wickedness in high places. (Ephesians 6:12). God is a gentleman, He doesn’t force Himself on us, He draws us. He stands at the door and knocks (Revelation 3:20).

It’s up to us to choose Him, to follow the gentle persuading of the Holy Spirit, also known, as Jesus described as the Comforter or Helper (John 15:26). You can usually sense the presence of the Holy Spirit through what a large portion of humanity refers to as your conscience. Anyway, back to my twisted romance.

By the end of summer Carly had left for the University of Iowa to pursue a nursing degree. I stayed in Cedar Rapids twenty minutes to the north to work as a full-time landscaper with Lyle. It was just enough separation to fuel Carly’s and my desire for each other. We saw each other almost every weekend, plus holiday breaks and vacations.

When Carly graduated with a nursing degree, she acquired a job at one of the hospitals in Cedar Rapids. After giving her a few months for her to settle into her new job, I figured it was time to make things permanent, to issue a marriage proposal.

After a less than stellar romantic dinner on her 22^nd birthday, the mood wasn’t right. Typically, we would make love after a special dinner, I would pop the question after that, or so I thought. Unfortunately, Carly looked extremely forlorn, dampening my intentions considerably.

“Billy, I’m just not in the mood tonight,” Carly told me with a couple of sighs as I pulled up in front of her apartment building.

“You’re only 22,” I tried joking. “You shouldn’t feel sad about a birthday until you’re at least 40.”

Carly smiled sadly at my lame attempt at humor and patted my leg. “It’s not that,” she moaned. “Look, Billy, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Open your birthday present first,” I said as I pulled a colorful package from under my seat.

“Oh, Billy, you shouldn’t have,” Carly lamented seeming genuinely irritated. I frowned, puzzled at her sour mood.

What did she mean I shouldn’t have? She’d been my girlfriend for six years. I’d never failed to get her a birthday present, as well as Christmas and Valentine gifts – not to mention countless spontaneous presents.  But when she saw what I had in store, I’d been sure it would snap her out of her funk.

She opened the package so slowly it was as if she expected a box of excrement. She frowned as she gazed down at the old textbook on electric motors. She looked at me as if in disgust. What had gotten into the girl of my dreams? Sure, she was a pretty serious person who was a little bit on the bossy side. But over the last few weeks she had developed into an absolute crank. I assumed it was because a marriage proposal was overdue. When she discovered that there was more to her present than an old textbook, her mood would drastically change.

“What’s this?” She spit at me. “What do I care about electric motors?”

“Open it up to about the middle of the book,” I told her. She did as I instructed with an intense frown and pursed lips. Then her mouth dropped open in stunned amazement as she saw where I had cut a hole in the pages and placed an engagement ring inside.

“Carly, will you marry me?” I asked as I took her hand. Tears ran down her cheeks as she stared as if in a trance at the ring. “Carly, will you be my wife?” I tried again as I grinned from ear to ear. I thought she was so surprised, so filled with glee, that she couldn’t speak. Then she looked at me with wide, frightened eyes. I’d been certain this would make her day. However, it didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” she blurted.

Now it was my turn to be stunned and speechless. Had I heard her, right?

“Say again?” I finally stammered.

“I can’t marry you, Billy, I’m sorry,” she repeated as tears streamed out of her eyes.

“But after six years, don’t you think it’s about time?” I wanted to know.

“Billy,” she said gently, placing a hand on my knee. “There’s someone else.”

My whole being became electrified and then turned numb. “You’re seeing someone else?” I mumbled.

“I am,” she replied with a choked sob. “This is just so much harder than I expected.”

“Who is he?”

“He’s a doctor at the hospital.”

“And you and this doctor have been having sex?”

She shook her head vehemently. “I told him I needed to end things with you first.”

“Classy,” I spit sarcastically.

“Thank you,” she said softly, not picking up on the sarcasm.

“So that’s why you’ve been in a funk the last month,” I said.

“Have I?”

“Ya think?” I tried not to shout.

“Billy, don’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Angry. It’s not like you,” she said softly. “I expected you to cry but not become hostile.”

“Well, forgive me for not being devastated the way you saw fit. I invested six years in a woman I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. Suddenly, she’s ending things so she can fornicate with another guy.”

“It’s more than that,” she said, becoming hostile herself. “This wasn’t an easy decision. This last week especially has been the most difficult of my life. Just so you know, I didn’t fully decide to leave you until today. A couple of weeks ago, Niles gave me until my birthday to decide whether I chose you or him.”

“Niles?” I spat. “Your new guy’s name is Niles? How fitting.”

“Billy, don’t be like this,” Carly said sternly, as if I was the offending party.

“Don’t be like what?” I spewed. “I just asked you to marry me, and instead of saying yes after a six-year courtship, you say there’s someone else. So forgive me if I’m not reacting in a positive way.”

Why did I keep saying forgive me, albeit sarcastically? Carly began to sob harder, and neither of us said anything until her crying subsided in a couple of minutes. “Billy, I’m truly sorry. It’s just that forever is a long time. I feel that Niles being a doctor and me being a nurse, that having a future with him makes more sense. You’re both wonderful guys, but he and I are ultimately a better fit. I know you and I have time invested, but for me, the fit with Niles just seems more right.”

“Right, because he’s a doctor, you’re a nurse, and I play in the dirt for a living,” I said with controlled anger. “I thought you put spirituality above how a person earns a living.”

“Niles is very religious,” she tried to explain. “He used to be a deacon in his church.”

“He used to be?” I asked, trying to find fault with him. “Why used to be?”

“He was married before, and when he and his former wife filed for divorce, he was removed from the position. Not only that, his church was her church first, so he’s not comfortable going there anymore. He’s anxious to start fresh by attending my church.”

Her description of Nile’s situation was prophetic of what was soon to be my situation, albeit with a major difference. I had been attending Carly’s church for almost six years. I too was a deacon. Yet I had never been asked to step down, nor did I expect to be because of this new development. However, there was no way I was going to attend “Carly’s” church anymore. Our church!

This realization gave me almost as much pause as Carly’s bombshell of dumping me. I had a lot of really close friends there. To use religious slang, I had numerous brothers and sisters in the Lord. So, in a way, I was being dumped on multiple levels.

“I guess I’m done there then,” I mumbled as my brain whirled in this surreal moment.

“Done where?” Carly frowned.

“Going to our church,” I mumbled. “I mean your church.”

“Oh, Billy don’t stop coming to church because of this,” Carly said with wide eyes. “I was hoping we could remain friends. I was hoping that you and Niles would become friends.”

“Are you kidding me!” I responded angrily. “You seriously think I would want to be friends with your lover? You think I can just sit in church and watch you share a hymn book with Dr. Niles every week? You seriously think I’d want to be friends with the guy that stole my girl?”

“Now, Billy, jealousy is a sin,” Carly scolded with an annoyingly calm and mild tone.

I’ve always been a rather patient man; but with her reprimand about jealousy given the situation, I had my jaw clenched so tight it quivered. Besides, wasn’t her dumping of me some type of sin? Wasn’t it some type of broken promise, breach of promise, or infidelity?

When we finally parted ways, she actually tried to shake my hand. Seriously, a handshake when I was expecting to make love that evening after she gleefully accepted my marriage proposal. I ignored her extended hand as I also did her effort to say goodbye. A broken heart is no fun, especially when it happens suddenly. How could I ever love or trust again?

 But time does heal most wounds. So, six months after Carly dumped me for Doc Niles, I was mostly recovered from the emotional pain. It was also six months after Carly dumped me when I found myself due to attend the wedding of Bailey McDonald and Tyrone Culver. Tyrone was one of my best friends at Westside Church of the Open Bible. Which was Carly’s church.

There was no way I was gonna let my good buddy Tyrone down by not attending. But I’m ashamed to admit that pride can be insidious. How could I support my friend and save face with Carly and Dr. Niles also in attendance? My best friend from the secular world provided a solution. It wasn’t the wisest choice I ever made. Although God ultimately used my foolishness to save a soul, I don’t recommend hiring a prostitute. Even if you have chaste intentions within the transaction.

Hello Dear Reader!

I have been enjoying rewriting the three e-books I have previously written a few years ago. I have completed two and was hoping to have started the third installment, ‘Billy Bob Booker and the Hooker’ for this weeks post. However, my old computer is on its last leg, and my new one has not arrived yet. It is due early this coming week so I am 90% sure I will be back on my weekly post schedule next week. Sorry.

CHAPTER 22

DIRK

Destiny dropped off Brock, Bentley, and me by some woods on a gravel road. It was about an hour before sunset. The three of us entered the seemingly haunted forest and stopped.

“All right,” Brock began in a low tone, “let’s go over this one more time. It’s at least a half mile through these woods. If Nora’s information is correct, there will be two goons outside keeping watch. We will have to hide and wait until approximately 11:15. At that time, we’ll have Dirk approach, and Bent and I will take them out when they are distracted. Then we’ll enter through the back door into the house. We’ll go to the first hall we see. Two doors down on the right, we should find black robes and hoods. We’ll join the gathering downstairs and, God help us, rescue Amy when Nora arrives with her troops. If at any time the plan breaks down, retreat to the woods and we will have to depend on Nora and her people. Got it?”

“Got it,” Bentley and I said in unison.

Waiting at the edge of Jezebel’s compound for hours felt like years. Then it was go time, and the next forty-five minutes were a chaotic blur. To get the ball rolling, I left our post and staggered up to the two goons as they stood by the porch at the front of the mini mansion.

“When’s the worship service?” I slurred, acting like I was drunk. “Am I late?”

With profanity, they wanted to know who I was.

“Joe Smith.”

“Well, Joe Smith, why don’t you just head on down the road?” one of them spat.

“I came for the midnight service.”

“Get out of here now!”

“You get out of here.”

They both tried to grab me while Brock and Bentley loomed behind them, hitting them hard on the sides of their heads with blackjacks. They thumped to the ground like bags of cement. Adrenaline surged as we made our way through the house. Everyone seemed to be in the basement where they held their satanic fellowships. Every second it felt like somebody could appear out of nowhere.

I calmed down a little bit after we found the black robes and hoods, hidden inside the  fabric. I settled even more when we joined the evil congregation and blended in like chameleons. I felt confident that our mission would work. That confidence waned when they brought in a naked and blindfolded Amy. They tied her to some type of portable wall or large table that was stood on end.

When I rescued Amy from being raped, everything happened so fast that I had no recollection of her exposure. Now, with around a half hour of standing through the satanic ceremony, all I could do was look at Amy’s naked form. Under almost any other circumstance I would have been aroused at her nudity. She was so stunning that it was no wonder her other sister aspired for her to be an exotic dancer. Yet there was nothing sexual about this current situation. It was sick, and I was too focused on whether or not she would be harmed.

Not long after they secured Amy, she began to sing “Jesus Loves Me.” Hearing her sweet voice as well as witnessing her courage and dignity caused my eyes to burn with tears. I had to concentrate on holding back a sob. I couldn’t lose Amy. They were gonna have to kill me first.

Thankfully I was young and strong; otherwise, the tension would have given me a heart attack or stroke. Where was Nora Medora? Each second felt like a minute. At the stroke of midnight, Jezebel gave the command. It appeared that Nora was a no-show. It also appeared that we would be outnumbered by about fifteen to one. But, like I said, they were gonna have to kill me before they hurt my Amy.

“No!” I heard myself shout at the top of my lungs. I pulled out a switchblade knife that I had concealed and flung the hood off my head.

There was a hooded figure that was about to plunge a large knife into one of Amy’s perfect breasts. I charged at the knife wielding creep like an NFL linebacker, even though he turned and drove the knife at me. But another hooded figure beat me to him, knocking me out of the way. It must have been Brock or Bentley, and their heads up move allowed me to work on Amy’s bonds.

“Everybody on the floor,” I heard Nora shout as she burst into the room with numerous armed personnel.

I ignored her command as I worked to release Amy. It was surreal. All the chaos happening around Amy and me almost seemed somewhere else because I was so absorbed with my task.

“It’s me, Amy,” I told her as I sawed vigorously on her bound ankles.

She made frantic grunts with the gag still in her mouth, but I needed to get her limbs free first. As soon as I had her first arm free, she took care of her gag and blindfold herself. We flung our arms around each other, even though we had no time for that. If I was Brock and more experienced with violence and action, I probably would have tried to flee the scene with her before we embraced.

“I love you so much,” Amy breathed into my neck.

“I love you, too,” I sobbed as I kissed the side of her lovely face numerous times.

It turned out that there was no need to flee. It seemed that these Satanists lacked bravery and the will to fight. Or maybe they were just sensible in not resisting Nora’s swat team. The only one showing outright resistance was Jezebel. She was fuming at Nora. She repeated words like “traitor” and “cursed” with all sorts of profanity laced into her diatribe.

“Are you two all right?” an officer asked Amy and me.

“Yes, sir,” I replied.

With some of my bearings gained, I whipped off my robe and attempted to cover Amy.

“I don’t want that thing,” she said with contempt as she pushed it away.

“Angel, you’re naked,” I said just above a whisper.

“Can I have your shirt instead?” she asked with a small voice.

I didn’t hesitate and pulled my tee-shirt over my head. It barely covered her, but would do for now. Then I looked around for Brock and Bentley. I froze when I saw Brock. He, like me, was shirtless. He held a bloody hand to his forehead as he stared at a body on the floor. It was Bentley. Two paramedics were working on his still form. My heart froze as I realized it was Bent who intervened between the knife guy and me. He had saved my life as well as Amy’s. But he was hurt. Badly hurt!

“Bentley!” Amy squealed with shock as her hands went to her mouth. She moved to go to him and I caught her arm.

“Give them space to work,” I told her gently, yet firmly.

No sooner had I said this than one of the paramedics arose and went to Brock, gently touching his arm as she spoke. The other paramedic covered Bentley’s head with a white towel. Amy buried her head in my chest and wailed. My own tears dropped into Amy’s hair for the wonderfully silly man with whom I was barely acquainted. He was a courageous man who had sacrificed his life for Amy and me.

Brock nodded as the paramedic left his side. Then, with bloody fingers, he pinched the bridge of his nose, bowed his head, and closed his eyes. Brock had valiantly tried to stop Bentley’s bleeding with his shirt, but the wound was too deep and severe.

We stood numb and dazed, hoping we would wake up and realize it was just a nightmare. But of course, that didn’t happen. Nora approached Brock, whose head was still bowed. She rubbed his back as she spoke to him, and he looked up with a tear-stained face. They shared a quick hug and she patted his arm before moving briskly to Amy and me.

“Are you two okay?” Nora asked. Her dark eyes were bloodshot.

“No,” Amy croaked.

“We’re unharmed,” I mumbled. “But we’re in a state shock over Mr. Bonnano. He sacrificed his life for us. He took the knife meant for me!”

“No greater love,” Nora said. Then to my surprise, a tear leaked from her eye.  She patted my shoulder twice. Then she looked at Amy, gave her forearm a squeeze, and quickly resumed her duties.

The rest of the night and early morning was an absolute blur, a nightmare we couldn’t awake from. The only clear memory I have is of Amy and me clinging to each other. Our bodies were racked with exhaustion and our minds swirled with mixed emotions. Grief over Bentley, and relief that the ordeal was over.

The next day I was still dazed and confused. I slept fitfully; I couldn’t stop thinking about the loss of the heroic man I barely knew. The only thing that was perfectly clear in my mind was my feelings for Amy. Coming so close to potentially losing her made me fully realize that I wanted her in my life forever. I also needed to see her. I dressed and headed out for the Knight-Storm residence with a proposal of marriage simmering in my brain. Strange as it may seem, I felt like my intentions would somehow honor Bentley Bonnano.

AMY

I don’t know whether to call it the next day or later that same day. So about ten hours after I parted ways with Dirk, he came over to see me. It was the first joy that I experienced after waking from a fitful sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about and weeping over sweet Bentley.

“Hey,” he said with his typical shy smile that always melted my heart.

“Hey,” I replied as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him.

“You doing okay?” he asked.

“I am now,” I croaked before I kissed him again.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he moaned. “I just had to see you.”

“I was longing for you, too.”

“It’s more than that,” he said as he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. “I love you more than life itself. I think I’ve proven that.”

“I love you, too. And yes, you’ve proven it big time.”

He lowered to one knee and took both of my hands in his, causing me to frown.

“Amy, will you marry me?” Dirk asked.

After all of my crying and sadness over the last hours, my eyes still managed to fill with tears of joy. I lowered to my knees, cupped his face in my hands, and we kissed again.

“Absolutely,” I replied as I gazed dreamily into his gentle eyes. “When?”

“Immediately,” he asserted.

My butt dropped onto the back of my calves as my mouth flew open.

“Dirk, shouldn’t we at least wait until spring?”

“I was afraid you’d say that,” he said as he showed me the shy smile again. “Listen to my offer, and tell me whether you agree. I feel like this is something right out of Mr. Bonnano’s playbook, so hear me out. Right now, the Cubs are a long shot to win the World Series; they have to win tonight and tomorrow night to accomplish the feat.”

“What do the Cubs have to do with you and me getting married?” I asked with a laugh.

“Like I said, hear me out,” he replied with an adorable, yet mischievous grin. “If the Cubs lose the World Series, we’ll get married in the spring. If they win, we get married right after the game.”

“You mean, like, right after?” I stammered. “That night?”

“Yes! You know Dee invited the Samsons over to watch it with us.”

“That’s if there’s a game seven.”

“There will be,” he replied with a rare, cocky grin as he pulled me against him. “The Cubs will win it, and I’ll win you.”

“You’ve already won me,” I corrected.

“I haven’t fully won you,” he whispered into my ear. “Until we come together like perfectly matched puzzle pieces. I want to know you in the Biblical sense.”

My mind spun, but my body began to fill with heat and excitement. I opened my mouth to agree with the sentiment, but before I could, Dirk’s mouth covered mine. Dirk and I were already Cubs fans because of our grandfathers. But that kiss made me the biggest Cubs fan ever. For in that kiss, I felt promise, commitment, and covenant.

“I agree,” I gasped when we broke apart.

“You don’t know how much that means to me,” Dirk said as he ran his fingers gently across my cheek         

“Okay,” I replied as I began to comprehend the direction he was going. “So you’re saying the plan is, if the Cubs win, we’re ready for marriage. If the Cubs lose, we need to wait.”

“Right. So you do agree to this arrangement.”

“I do,” I replied cheerily as I clasped my hands in front of me and swiveled back and forth. “You’re saying if the Cubs win, we’re in. Nuptials, that is. And if they lose, we wait until spring to marry.”

“Exactly,” he beamed. “So what do you say?”

“Go, Cubs, go!” I said, pumping my fist in the air as he grabbed me and kissed me again.

“Should we tell Dee and Brock?” Dirk asked with a shaky, trembling voice.

“Are you okay?” I frowned.

“I’m fine,” he chuckled uneasily. “I just really need for the Cubs to come back and win this thing. Now, let’s get to the courthouse before it closes for a marriage license.”

“Now that’s optimism,” I laughed.

DESTINY

Cubs win! Cubs win!

Amy and Dirk Easton are the first couple I have ever known to celebrate two days for a wedding anniversary. The reason for the duel anniversary date is simple really. The Cubs won the World Series at approximately 11:50 at night, central standard time. After watching the team celebrate for a few minutes, we turned the television off and Captain Kirk spent about fifteen to twenty minutes with a sermon and ceremony. This ceremony began on November 2^nd and flowed over midnight into the 3^rd.  Brock held the honor of best man and I was matron of honor. There were about two dozen others in attendance, including Dirk’s brother and his new lady, Whitney Waconia. Yes, the same Whitney that Dirk had briefly dated.

 After Dirk kissed the beaming bride, he carried her up to her bedroom and closed the door rather emphatically behind them. The rest of us turned the television back on and watched Chicago celebrate.

The following spring when Bentley’s tombstone was installed, Amy, Dirk, Brock, and I made a trip together to the cemetery. It was a pleasant day and warm for early spring. Our foursome turned in unison when we arrived at the modest, black marble marker.

BENTLEY BRIAN BONNANO

BORN OCTOBER 19, 1982, DIED NOVEMBER 1, 2016

THE SHELL IS HERE BUT THE NUT IS GONE

We all started laughing when we read the statement after the name and dates. Then Amy and I started crying. She knelt and kissed the stone at his name. I repeated her gesture. After that, we all held hands and Brock led us in prayer.

I felt strangely peaceful as we walked out of the cemetery. I gazed up at the tall pine trees that seemed to point to heaven through the pale blue sky. I thought of the verse in James 4:14. For what is your life? It is even a vapor that appears for a little time, and then vanishes away.

In the scope of eternity, our time here on earth is so incredibly short. We really aren’t all that far behind that sweet, loveable, goofball Bentley Bonnano. How will we spend our borrowed time? So much of my life had been a frivolous waste. I wanted to make the most of every moment I had left. I needed to spend my life seeking and living for God, for He is the only escape from this planet of imminent death.

The day following our trip to visit Bentley’s shell, Amy wanted Dirk to meet her at Brock’s and my place. Shortly after Amy and Dirk married, she moved into his apartment with him. I don’t mean to criticize Dirk’s decorating ability; well maybe a little. Anyway, within days of Amy moving in, the dingy little apartment went from drab to wonderfully bright and homey.

Amy arrived first, and she and I enjoyed some raspberry Lipton tea on the porch. The taste of the beverage reminded me of Bentley’s spiked tea, and I smiled at Brock and my innocent mistake in partaking of it. Amy seemed more vibrant than usual, and I wondered what was cooking with her. Being around her cheer and youthful energy invigorated my soul.

Dirk showed up about twenty minutes after Amy. Her eyes bubbled with excitement as they followed his Jeep coming up the driveway. She arose to greet him and I followed behind. Brock was in Bentley’s shop trying to finish the project dear Bent had been working on when he died. It was an old Indian motorcycle. Both Brock and Amy petitioned Dirk at the same time. Brock wanted Dirk to hold something for him, so he gave Amy the ‘just a minute’ sign. She stopped with mild disgust and put her hands on her hips. When Dirk was done helping Brock, the two men began to converse.

“Dirk, I need to talk to you,” Amy said.

“Okay,” Dirk replied, but remained in dialogue with Brock.

Amy solicited Dirk’s attention again, only to be politely ignored again. She pursed her lips in frustration and then practically ordered him to talk to her.

“Okay, okay,” Dirk said laughing as he moved toward her.

Amy bit her lip and looked at him dreamily as she gently placed her arms on his shoulders. Her mouth going to his ear. She was wearing a long, light green sweater that looked amazing with her red gold hair and mismatched eyes. The sweater went down to her upper thighs. She whispered to him for about twenty or thirty seconds. Then she lifted her sweater up to her belly button with one hand and with the other grabbed Dirk’s hand and placed it on her stomach. My hand made a thump as it hit my chest.

“Oh, my,” I blurted.

“What?” Brock said, looking up from his project in time to see Dirk kneel in front of Amy and kiss her stomach. “Oh, my. Is she?”

“Pregnant,” I interjected, smiling at him. “That’d be my guess.”

“Aren’t they a bit young?” Brock asked, wincing.

“They’re both incredibly mature for their age,” I assured him.

“Oh, I know that,” he replied. “I mean, they should have become more financially stable before having kids. I guess we’re in a position to help them out, though.”

“Don’t worry about that,” I told him. “Amy confided in me that not only are Dirk and his brother doing pretty well with their business, but the brothers got a pretty healthy life insurance claim from their parents’ deaths. Their grandparents also left them a good sum.”

“So why do they live in that dingy little apartment?” Brock wanted to know.

“Dirk has always been biding his time to find a place in the country,” I replied. “Now that it’s spring, they’re looking in earnest.”

“Well, wonderful,” Brock said, and then looked at me with a weird, silly grin.

“What’s that look for?” I asked him.

“Grandma,” he said, chuckling.

“Grandpa,” I said as I slapped him on the chest while I wore a huge grin. “Actually I don’t know what to call us. Obviously, in reality, we’re just very close friends. Spiritually, we’re either something like brother and sister, or aunt and uncle. We’re really not old enough to be their parents.”

“Close enough,” Brock said. “They both got cheated on the parent end of things. It’s only fitting that they have extra young adoptive parents in adulthood.”

“Well put, Mr. Storm,” I said, grinning up at him as he put his arm around me.

“Why thank you, Mrs. Storm,” he replied, kissing my forehead as Amy and a dazed but happy-looking Dirk walked toward us holding hands.

“Dee, Brock,” Amy said as she absolutely glowed. “You’re gonna be grandparents.”

I couldn’t help weeping for joy. Not only was there the blessed tiny person in Amy’s womb, but this beautiful, young couple wanted Brock and me in the vacated role of their baby’s grandparents. Amy’s words to me when we hugged made me feel truly forgiven for what I considered the most grievous transgression of my life – aborting my child when I was a lost and confused young woman. Thankfully God is willing to forgive anything when we ask and repent.

“I love you, Mom,” she whispered into my ear.

“I love you too,” I returned. “Brock and I are so blessed and honored that you two consider us your child’s grandparents.”

“The blessing and honor is ours,” Amy said after our embrace. Her big, shiny, blue eye and green eye gazing into my eyes.

 Many years previous, Brock’s gentle words of ‘I got you’ replayed countless times in my head; the echo becoming ‘I love you.’ Amy’s words ‘I love you, Mom,’ also would have reverberated in my ears, except she was a present reality in life. My spiritual daughter and I would exchange words of love and affection often as we journeyed toward eternity.

THE END

(Beginning next time: Billy Bob Booker and the Hooker.)

Billy Bob’s Christian faith wavers after he is jilted by his fiancée. When he and his ex are due to attend the same wedding, he attempts to hire a lovely young woman his best friend knows to be his date.

CHAPTER 21

DIRK

When I took Amy to the railroad bridge, my main motive was looking for a way to kiss her for the first time. I thought it would be maybe one kiss, or a few if I was lucky. I hoped it would break the ice and establish our relationship as romantic in nature over just friends. Yet I knew she was serious about being chaste, and I intended to respect that. On the other hand, being a male in his early twenties, I felt compelled to find out just how serious.

Between losing my parents in a car accident at a young age, and then losing the girl I was close friends with to suicide, I had made a conscious effort to close my heart to love. I was afraid to experience the level of pain and loss the death of a loved one could bring ever again. However, closing off the ability to love and be loved had its own side effects with the prime one being loneliness. Dark, black, bleak depressing loneliness.

Then I saw the light. Ironically the switch was flipped after being beaten half to death. My first glimpse of it came when I saw Amy in the hospital. I could tell that there was something special about her even in my cloudy mental state, but I didn’t think too much of it because she seemed so young. The light became brighter the day Amy brought me muffins. It was hard to ignore her wholesome beauty.

Hindsight is better than foresight. I made myself see Amy simply as a sweet girl. Whitney’s charm and physical beauty were a convenient, deviant escape. I knew I would never love Whitney and she would never love me. But that somehow felt safe in a reckless way. Life is so contradictory.

 Then came the day Amy and I went motorcycle riding. Some say that love is blind. All I know is that after my afternoon with Amy, the light became so bright that I couldn’t see anything but Amy for a while. Then the light became darkened through my lust over Whitney. But Amy’s light penetrated the darkness of my lust for Whitney’s sensuality.

The light of Amy’s love stopped me from the dead end of the pleasures of sin for a season. I decided to open my heart to the risks and rewards of true love. I felt vulnerable, fragile, yet fulfilled. Then the risk of love and loss would prove to be great, especially on the day before Halloween.

 I had just showered after coming home from work. Amy called and said she was working late because they were shorthanded. A couple hours later I received a call from Brock. His normally calm and cool demeanor sounded rattled.

“Dirk, is Amy with you, by chance?” Brock wanted to know.

“No, she had to work late, then she was going to go home and shower. Then she’s planning to have dinner with me,” I explained.

“Here’s the thing,” Brock said, urgently. “Dee just got a call from Amy’s boss saying she got off twenty minutes ago, yet her car is still in the parking lot.”

First my body froze with fear and panic. Then my legs became weak and I sat down hard.

“Do you think it’s Jezebel?” I asked with a shaky voice.

“I do.”

“Has anyone called the cops?”

“They can’t really do anything,” Brock sighed. “Other than keep an eye out for her.”

“What are we gonna do?” I demanded.

“We’re working on it,” Brock replied. “How soon can you get over here?”

“I’ll be out the door in a minute or two.”

My hands trembled so badly I’m surprised that I was able to put on my shoes and socks. I drove to the Knight-Storms’ place more determined than I had ever been in my life. I couldn’t lose Amy, I just couldn’t. We would find her, even if I had to die trying.

“Dirk,” Destiny said with a sob as she embraced me on their front porch. “We got a little bit of good news to go along with the bad. As you know, Nora Medora is an FBI agent who has been working undercover in Jezebel’s cult. Jezebel does in fact have Amy.”

“So she’ll be able to get her back?” I exclaimed.

“It’s not that simple.”

“What do you mean? Amy was kidnapped.”

“Actually, she wasn’t,” Destiny corrected. “She went willingly.”

“Why would she do that?”

“I’m not sure. Hopefully Brock is finding out now.”

I looked past Destiny and saw Brock pacing in the kitchen with a phone to his ear. He stopped walking and put a hand to his forehead. There was the murmur of a voice, causing us to turn and look. An athletic woman with short black hair approached the porch with a phone to her ear.

“Once again, relax, Brock. We got this,” she said into the phone as she opened the porch’s door. “I know this is all just going down for you; but I’ve been on this for a long time now. By the way, I’m here.”

She lowered the phone from her ear and looked at me.

“Well, the local hero,” the dark-haired woman said in a very businesslike manner as she extended a hand toward me. “FBI Special Agent Nora Medora. Nice to meet you.”

“Same here,” I mumbled.

“Mrs. Storm,” Nora said as she turned to Destiny and shook her hand.

“Nora,” Destiny replied coolly. “Glad you’re here.”

Nora nodded. “Let’s go inside and I’ll lay out what I know. Right now, Amy is fine and there is a really good chance she will stay fine.”

“You know that?” Destiny asked eagerly.

I felt excitement surge from my head to my toes.

“Come on. I’ll tell you what happened to Amy and what the plan is,” Nora said before she turned toward me again. “I understand you and Amy have become quite cozy.”

“More than cozy,” I replied. “I love her.”

“Are you ready to play hero again?” Nora asked me.

“I’ll do whatever you or Brock ask of me,” I said without wavering.

“Even if your life is at risk?”

“Absolutely.”

Nora nodded as she slapped me twice on my shoulder and walked into the kitchen to join Brock. Destiny grabbed my arm before I could follow Nora. Her eyes were clouded with tears as she kissed my cheek and hugged me.

AMY

The day before Halloween, I worked almost a double shift. The reason I was doing more than a shift and a half was because one of my fellow waitresses was a no call, no show. Even though she had worked at Mrs. B’s for only two months, it seemed really odd that Heather Smith was absent. Up to that point, she had never missed a day. She was a single mother of two adorable children, a five-year-old girl and a three-year-old boy.

By the time the end was in sight, my feet were sore, my legs were tired, and my patience was wearing thin. All I could think about was a warm shower, fresh clothes, and an evening with the man I was head over heels in love with. It was then that I received a diabolical text message.

The text was from one of Jezebel’s disciples who informed me that they had Heather Smith. First they sent me a picture of her two kids. Then they instructed me to tell no one and to come to the parking lot, where a maroon Chevy Impala was waiting for me. They were watching me. If I followed their instructions, they would let Heather go.

I had no choice. Even if it wasn’t for her two precious children, I couldn’t let Heather be killed because of me. I didn’t hesitate to walk out to the maroon Chevy. My skin crawled with the thought of the type of low life thugs I would be joining. The front passenger door of the four-door sedan opened when I was about ten feet away.

I climbed in and was surprised to find a pleasant-looking woman who appeared to be around forty. She introduced herself as Naomi. She had short hair with blonde highlights, and was a bit plump. She looked like she should be on the way to a PTA meeting rather than kidnapping someone for a human sacrifice.

“Come on in, honey,” the woman ordered. “Give me your phone.”

I did what she told me and we were off. After we entered the on-ramp for the interstate, she threw my phone out the window and into weeds. I jumped at the sight of a man in the back seat. He had a shaved head and a weird facial hair thing going. From the corner of his lips, he had an inch-wide strip of hair that curved an inch or so shy of his ear, tapering to a point. It gave the appearance of a super ghoulish grin. He was creepy to the max and made my skin crawl. He scowled at me and showed me a handgun.

“Oh, where are my manners?” the woman said. “Amy, this is Hector.”

“I have your word that Heather won’t be harmed,” I stated as I wondered if Satanists even worried about things like honor.

“I can assure you that Heather will not be harmed, my precious,” the woman swooned. “She’s one of us.”

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“That’s right. Heather worked at your restaurant solely for this moment.”

I was overwhelmed with dread. When I was under the delusion that I was giving my life for Heather, it gave me strength. Now that my life was intended to be extinguished just for a perverse ritual, I was tempted to fall into despair. But I didn’t. Whether I lived or died, I was safe in Jesus. Also, I was certain that sooner rather than later, Brock and company would be on the case.

The creepy people took me to a large gothic house somewhere out in the country. The goon in the back seat bound my wrists with thick plastic zip ties. Then they took me into the house, where I was promptly greeted by my half-sister, Jezebel.

“Well, if it isn’t my sweet little sister,” Jezebel cooed before she kissed both of my cheeks.

I was tempted to spit in her face. As was typical with my evil sister, she was dressed all in black with knee boots, leggings, and a turtleneck. Her long straight hair was died raven black. She looked like Elvira’s daughter.

“I understand that you have a male companion these days,” Jezebel purred. “Does that mean you’re no longer a virgin? Keep in mind that you are the chosen sacrifice either way.”

I remained silent.

“Ah, not talking,” Jezebel smirked and then paused. “Hector, I’ll need you to examine Miss Autumn’s sacred spot.”

“I’m still a virgin,” I acknowledged before creep-face laid a hand on me.

“Very good, little sister,” Jezebel said with enthusiasm.

“You’re pure evil,” I said sadly.

“Oh, please,” Jezebel said patiently as she tilted her head to the left. “You have such limited understanding, young one.”

For some strange reason, I felt calm. Maybe it was all of the silent prayers I had offered up. Maybe it was the confidence I had that my loved ones would not rest until they figured out what happened to me. Maybe it was the fact that I would not deny Christ and have the honor of dying martyred for Him. Yet I hated that Dirk would have to deal with yet another death of someone he loved. Thankfully, Dirk and I had been a couple only for a short time. I hoped the pain of my loss would be brief.

“Honey, you’re dying for a higher cause,” my half-sister and full demon told me as she patted my cheek.

“You mean lower cause,” I mumbled. “Jesus died for you. I’ll die for Him, regardless of what you think I’m dying for.”

Her laugh was like a growl, and her eyes were inhumane and utterly demonic.

“Don’t you mention Him again,” she snarled, “unless you want to be tortured before you die as an offering for Satan.”

“Jesus loves me, this I know,” I sang.

Jezebel slapped me viciously before I could continue.

“I said do not mention that name again,” she threatened with gritted teeth, “unless you want to be tortured before the knife plunges into your heart.”

“What a friend we have in Jesus,” I belted out even louder than before.

Then Jezebel punched me in the stomach, doubling me over. She packed quite a wallop for a petite woman. All fear left me as I fully realized that these cultists might be able to kill my body, even torture it, but they could not touch my soul!

Jezebel slapped me again and my eyes watered, partly from the sting of the slap, but mostly for love of my Savior. Amazingly, the pain was minimal.

“Jesus loves you,” I said with a smile.

I didn’t say this to taunt, but as a message. I recalled Jesus saying about his murderers, “Father forgive them, for they don’t know what they are doing.” Her eyes held their furry, but she turned and quickly walked away from me.

“Naomi, lock her up,” Jezebel barked.

 The lady kidnapper took me to a bedroom. It was actually quite nice and even had a small bathroom. Two windows were boarded up from the outside. They actually treated me like a pampered guest. They offered me supper and several breakfast options in the morning. It was tempting to accept, but if ever there was a time for prayer and fasting in my life, it was now.

I had no way to tell time. There was no clock, television, or radio in the room. It just had a queen size bed with a nightstand, a dresser, and two chairs. After what must have been more than twenty-four hours, I was retrieved by Naomi and the sinister bald man. What did she call him? Hector? They put a blindfold on me and led me away. We went down several flights of stairs. They removed all of my clothing, but left the blindfold on. I was actually grateful for the blindfold.

They strapped me to some type of wall by my wrists and ankles. The straps were silky and soft. My ankles were pressed together, but my arms were stretched out similar to Jesus on the cross. It felt wrong that Jesus had spikes and I had soft straps. So, despite Jezebel’s threat to torture me, I felt compelled to honor my Savior in this den of devil worship.

“Jesus loves me, this I know,” I sang.

“Gag her!” I heard Jezebel shout.

Before I could get another word out, a hand covered my mouth. I was tempted to bite it, but then I recalled Isaiah 53:7. He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so He opened not his mouth.

Some type of ball was stuffed into my mouth, and I then heard duct tape rip before I felt it stick to my face. The occultist proceeded with some type of worship service, and I felt strangely calm. I heard Jezebel declare that it was time to offer a perfect sacrifice. Only Jesus is perfect, I tried to say through my gag.

“No!” I heard the heroic love of my life shout. “Stop!”

Then the sounds of chaos erupted all around me as I lay bound, naked, and completely vulnerable.

CHAPTER 20

BROCK STORM

It was early Sunday morning, somewhere between eight and nine. I was out in the shop with Bentley when I noticed a flat black Jeep Wrangler slowly cruise past our house. It fit the description of the vehicle Destiny described Dirk Easton dropping Amy off in yesterday. The Jeep turned around at the entrance to a cornfield and came back toward our place. It turned into our driveway and slowly made its way up, stopping in front of the shop.

I recalled a conversation that I had with Destiny the previous night. She told me about how Amy had come home all upset over Dirk and his date with the harlot, Whitney Waconia. Although Dirk did nothing wrong, I felt my hackles rise despite myself. Playing the role of a father figure will do that, I guess. I folded my arms as Dirk climbed out of the Jeep. When I realized how stern I must look, I let my arms drop to my sides as I sighed. I stepped out to greet him with a small smile. After all, he did save Amy’s life.

“Morning, Brock,” Dirk mumbled.

“Morning, Dirk,” I replied. “You’re out mighty early this morning. I heard you had a hot date last night.”

His blood shot eyes looked startled, then he shook his head.

“Not so hot of a date,” he said.

“Why’s that?” I asked feeling a growing satisfaction for some reason.

“Amy,” Dirk answered with an odd mixture of awe and perplexity on his face.

“Why Amy?” I wanted to know.

Dirk looked at me for a long moment with his eyes looked somewhat frightened and confused.

“To be honest Brock, things were getting pretty intense between Whitney and me. She wanted to have sex. Then I saw Amy in my mind’s eye, and I recalled our time together earlier that day. So I told Whitney that I couldn’t, you know, sleep with her. I ended up walking out on her.”

I was speechless! Whitney Waconia was an absolute physical knockout. Not many, if any, twenty-year-old guys would turn her down.

“I see,” I stammered as I groped for something to say.

Dirk ran his hands through his hair and sighed heavily. “It’s been a strange twenty-four hours.”

“So what brings you out here then?” I asked.

“I’d like to ask your blessing to go out with Amy,” he told me.

I cleared my throat. “Well, that’s quite honorable Dirk. But why ask me?”

“Amy and I had a lengthy conversation yesterday,” he replied. “During the course of our talk, she told me how much she loves you and Destiny. She said that even though you two are a bit young for it, she looks to you two sort of like the parents she never really had. The way you both look out for her, and such.”

“She really said that, huh?” I asked, trying not to sound as choked up as I felt. After all, I have always been a fairly macho guy. Part of being a bodyguard is not being vulnerable.

“She did,” Dirk confirmed. “So, as her father figure, I would like your blessing before I pursue Amy’s affections. If she even has any toward me, that is.”

Oh, she has affections for you big time, I thought. But you’ll have to find that out the hard way, my good man.

“What if I told you no?” I challenged.

“I have the utmost respect for you and your wife,” he replied. “Even though Amy is eighteen, if you or Destiny find me unworthy of her, I will respectfully keep my distance from her.”

I was touched by his old fashioned sense of honor. I was also impressed at his discipline by walking away from the temptation of Whitney Waconia.

“You have my blessing, so now let’s confirm it with Dee,” I said as I extended my hand. “As a matter of fact, I can’t think of a young man I would rather see her with than you.”

As we finished shaking hands, Dirk turned to look at the house and then back to me.

“Is Amy here?” he asked.

“She’s here, but I don’t know if she’s out of bed yet. Let’s go find out.”

We were in the entrance of the house when Destiny turned from the kitchen sink to look our way. Her eyes widened a little and her mouth dropped open when she saw Dirk. Right when my own mouth opened to speak, Amy came walking through another entry way wearing pajamas with Tweety Bird displayed on them. Her hair was ruffled and messed from sleeping, but she still looked gorgeous. However, she was going to kill me for bringing Dirk into the house without warning.

“Good morning, Dee,” Amy said with a sleepy smile. “The coffee smells great.”

“Morning, honey,” Destiny replied as she looked nervously at Dirk and me. “Um …”

 Amy poured herself a cup of coffee and looked at Destiny with a frown.

“Something wrong, Dee?”

“You have a visitor, sweetie,” Destiny said with a nervous smile and a hand gesture toward the entryway.

Amy looked over at Dirk and me. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect circle of astonishment. Then she pointed the ‘just a minute’ sign at Dirk and me with her index finger.

“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” Amy declared before she dashed out of the kitchen and hustled upstairs.

“Well,” Destiny said uneasily. “Nice to see you, Dirk.”

“Dirk asked for our blessing to court Amy,” I told Destiny. “I told him yes. What do you say?”

“Of course,” she said as she clapped her hands together. “But only as long as you’re not seeing anyone else.”

“There’s no one else, ma’am,” Dirk replied, somewhat sheepishly.

Destiny eyed him skeptically. “I heard that there is.”

“Was. Things didn’t work out between Dirk and Whitney,” I told her. “Seems our Amy got in the way of things.”

Destiny frowned as Dirk blushed and became jittery.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about Amy after our time together yesterday,” Dirk explained, not making eye contact with my lovely, intense wife. Then with difficulty, he lifted his eyes to Destiny. “So I told the gal I had been out with a few times that I couldn’t see her anymore.”

I could see glee dancing in Destiny’s eyes as she held back a grin.

“I see,” she said calmly. “I’m gonna go check on Amy. I’m sure she’ll be down in a few minutes.”

I poured Dirk and myself a cup of coffee, and we took a seat at the kitchen table. Dirk looked tired. Although his eyes were bloodshot, he seemed to be a bundle of nervous energy. We exchanged small talk for ten minutes before we heard footsteps on the stairs. I submitted a silent prayer that Amy didn’t walk in wearing purple tights and a goofy tee-shirt, which was the type of unconventional wardrobe I’d become accustomed to her wearing. However, I was confident Destiny would intervene in the matter of Amy’s attire.

My faith in Destiny was substantiated. Amy was wearing jeans and a green flannel shirt that was open but tied at the bottom. Underneath was a plain white shirt. Her long red-gold hair was pulled back with a hair clip. She exuded a natural beauty that was breathtaking. Dirk gazed at her in awe as he stood.

“Hello, Miss Autumn,” Dirk said with a grin.

“Hello, Mr. Easton,” Amy replied with a cheery smile. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Can I take you to breakfast?” Dirk asked. “I’d like to talk with you.”

“Sure,” Amy replied with a shrug. Amy followed Dirk to the door. Then she turned toward Destiny and me with an exaggerated grin, giving us two thumbs up.

DESTINY

I couldn’t have been more surprised or happy when Brock walked into the house with Dirk. I’m sure Amy had mixed feelings. She had to be excited about his presence, yet she had to be dismayed that he saw her in her sleeping attire with her hair all ruffled.

A thrill of excitement propelled me up the stairs to Amy’s room. It looked like my intuition about the two potential love birds was heading toward fulfillment. I knocked on Amy’s door.

“Is that you, Dee?” Amy called out.

“Can I come in?”

“Please do.”

I entered Amy’s room and found her sitting on her bed in her under garments, pulling a faded pair of blue jeans on.

“What’s Dirk doing here?” Amy gushed.

“He’s here for you, silly.”

“I mean, why is he here the morning after his hot date with Whitney Waconia? I assumed he would be wanting breakfast with her this morning, not me.”

“The way I understand it, you spoiled their hot date.”

“I spoiled it for them? How?”

Amy sucked in her stomach a little bit as she fastened her jeans. Then she began to pull a Garfield the Cat t-shirt from her drawer, and I grabbed it out of her hand. I put it back and selected a plain white shirt. She grinned sheepishly and put it on. It was rather form fitting, and I was about to tell her to put that one back also, but instead, I went to my closet and retrieved a green flannel shirt for her to put over it.

Flannel again. But I perceived that Dirk was drawn to the country girl type. And Amy made a beautiful country girl.

“Now tell me how I spoiled their date?” Amy inquired, eagerly when I returned.

“He said that after spending the day with you, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He told Whitney that he had to stop seeing her.”

Amy’s mouth and eyes grew wide as I told her. Then we did a little happy jig together.

“He also asked Brock and me for our blessing to start courting you,” I said. Amy’s face was stunned, but filled with delight. “That is if you’ll have him,” I added.

“Oh, I’ll have him,” Amy said in the most seductive voice I had ever heard her use.

“Now play at least a little hard to get,” I suggested as I placed my hands on my hips.

“Oh, I will. But not too much.”

“No bedroom stuff until you’re married,” I said with a coy smile.

“Dee…” she whined as she blushed. Then she grinned. “I’ll make it worth his wait.”

“Good girl.”

She bumped a hip into mine and giggled. Then she sat down hard on her bed and put on her pink sneakers. I told her to take them off. Knowing we had the same size feet, I went back to my room and grabbed low heel pumps and an egg shaped container of black knee highs. Maybe add a little class to her country appearance.

When we went downstairs, I realized by the look on Dirk’s face as he gazed upon Amy, that her attire was pretty much irrelevant. As the young pair walked away, Amy looked so incredibly happy. My heart sang as the door closed behind them. Brock put a loving arm around me and pulled me against him.

“Our little girl is growing up fast,” he joked.

“Yes, she is,” I said with a satisfied sigh. “Yes, she is.”

AMY

Dirk took me to Perkins for breakfast. I had a spinach omelet and Dirk had a Denver omelet. I never imagined my first actual date with a guy would be a spur of the moment breakfast. Then again, I never really dreamed about going on dates. Desiring Dirk was my most intense romantic situation up to that point.

Over our meals, I got Dirk to spill about his date with the smoking hot Whitney Waconia. The poor fella was rather uncomfortable, but spill he did. I was rather uncomfortable myself. Especially when he told me about his vending machine condom, and Whitney’s mostly empty box of condoms that she pulled from a drawer.

It seemed he left no stone unturned telling me about his date. It mostly felt awkward listening to his tale, and at times, TMI. But it ended very well!

“Would you want go for a little hike?” Dirk asked as we walked through the restaurant’s parking lot. “There’s a place that I’d like to show you.”

“I’d love to,” I replied cheerily. But then looked at my footwear. Why did I let Dee make me change out of my sneakers?  Dirk was wearing running shoes with his jeans and t-shirt.

After we climbed into Dirk’s Jeep, he offered me a piece of wintergreen Ice Breakers gum. I declined at first because I am not all that crazy about wintergreen. Then it occurred to me that he just might try to kiss me at some point today, so I accepted a piece. After only a five- or ten-minute drive from the restaurant, Dirk pulled to the side of the road in a somewhat secluded spot.

“You know that pastor of the church you go to with the Storms?” Dirk asked. “I believe they call him Captain Kirk?”

“Sure I do,” I replied.

“He gave me a couple books when I was in the hospital,” Dirk continued. “One of them was by a guy named Jake Weston. It’s called ‘Spoiled Produce.’ Do you know of it?”

“I sure do,” I replied. “I read it about a month or two ago. Jake and Mary Gold Weston go to the same church that Destiny and Brock attend.”

“Do you go there, too?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you like it?”

“I love it. You ought to come.”

“I might do that,” Dirk replied. “As you know, I kind of lost my way spiritually. I need to find my way back.”

“You must not have lost your way too badly. You seem to be such a decent, moral guy.”

Dirk shrugged. “A little poison can still kill you.”

“True.”

“Anyway, in the book ‘Spoiled Produce,’ do you remember the part about the abandoned train bridge?” he asked.

“Of course I do. It was one of my favorite parts,” I replied excitedly.

“Well, when I read the book, I knew the spot that Jake was writing about. It’s quite overgrown compared to back then, but you can still get there. The old railroad was right here where we are. The bridge is about a quarter mile through these trees. Do you want to see it?”

My heart rate began to accelerate. In the book, when Jake and Mary Gold came to the bridge, she was afraid to go across. So Jake picked her up and carried her. When they reached the other side, Jake kissed Mary Gold for the first time.

“I’d love to see it,” I told him, suddenly feeling shyness coupled with overwhelming anticipation.

“Okay, then,” he said with a quiet smile.

There was a deer trail that led us almost all the way to the bridge. It was hard to tell just how far it was down to the creek below with the trees and overgrown brush on the banks. It looked like fifty feet give or take to the stream below.

“Do you want to go across?” Dirk asked.

The truth is, I wasn’t afraid to walk across like Mary Gold, but I wanted Dirk to carry me and then kiss me. So I decided to tell him that I didn’t want to walk across.

“I don’t want to walk across,” I told him.

“I see,” he said, frowning and scratching his head.

We stood there in silence, looking at the creek below. Pick me up and carry me, silly, I thought. It’s in the script.

“Do you want to go back?” Dirk asked.

“No, I want to go across.”

“But you said you didn’t.”

“I said I didn’t want to walk across.”

“Do you want me to carry you, then?”

I nodded and bit my lower lip. He moved toward me and I lifted my arms in anticipation of looping around his neck. Then he would carry me across and kiss me, just like the story.  He didn’t lift me just then, though. Before I knew what was happening, his mouth covered mine, gently, yet firmly.

“You kissed me,” I declared with surprise, totally not trying to have Mary Gold’s exact reaction when it happened to her, but doing it anyway.

“Sorry,” he said with a sexy grin, replying just as Jake did in the story.

“Don’t be,” I cooed back, just like the romantic tale.

His mouth covered mine again, and in a matter of seconds our kiss was mutually deepened. I was in pure bliss for the next few minutes when suddenly Dirk separated his face from mine. “Do you want to go across now?”

I’d lost interest in crossing the moment he kissed me. But what else could I say?

“Sure,” I replied. “But to be honest, I can walk across. I thought we would do what Jake and Mary Gold did if I made sure you carried me. Since you already took care of that, I can make my own way.”

“I don’t think so, me lady,” Dirk declared with a fake accent just before he scooped me off the ground.

I squealed with both surprise and delight. Unlike Mary Gold from the story, I’m not all that afraid of heights. So instead of burying my face into Dirk’s neck, I connected my mouth with his as we made our way across. He disconnected us as he laughed.

“That makes it hard to negotiate the ties,” he told me.

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“I said it makes it hard,” he said with a grin. “Not that we shouldn’t do it anyway.”

I bit my lower lip as I looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“You are the most adorable female on the planet,” he told me just above a whisper.

Once again, our mouths joined. As we slowly made our way across, I could feel one of my shoes easing its way off my foot. I tilted my foot upward and hoped for the best. I was so enraptured with Dirk, I didn’t care if my whole foot fell off. About two steps from reaching the other side, it plunged over the bridge. My shoe that is, not my foot.

“Oh!” I gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Dirk asked with concern.

“My shoe fell off and dropped down below.”

“I see it,” Dirk replied, looking over the side. “No worries, I can get it.”

Dirk sat me on a rock and knelt in front of me. He kissed me softly and then began to move away. He came back and kissed me again. We couldn’t get enough of each other. Five or ten minutes later he finally retrieved my shoe.

“Naughty girl,” he said with a sly smile as he slowly put my shoe back on my foot. Then he grabbed my legs and pulled me forcefully against himself, and attempted to resume kissing me. But I recalled my promise to Dee, about taking things slow.

“Now who’s being naughty?” I joked as I pushed him away.

“Let’s go back to my place,” he said breathlessly. “I have an unused piece of latex.”

“Dirk, I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” I scolded. “You sure backed off love and commitment before sex.”

“No I didn’t,” he defended. “I’ve fallen in love with you, and I’ll marry you tomorrow if you want.”

“Okay,” I replied giddily. His eyebrows shot up, and I laughed. “Just kidding. Let’s at least wait a few weeks.”

“Or months,” he suggested.

“Or years.”

“Well, not years.”

“Okay, how about we play it by ear,” I told him. I paused. “I am tickled that you feel this way about me.”

“Are you tickled?” Dirk asked as he wiggled his fingers just below my rib cage.

“Stop it!” I laughed, as I began to tickle him.

Our mouths came together and we began kissing passionately for a couple minutes.

“Amy,” Dirk croaked as he gently pushed away from me.

“Yeah,” I squeaked as I tried to reel him back in. Oh how fickle the human condition! Especially when hormones are involved.

“Listen, I really want to honor your vow of chastity. But we better stop doing this kissy stuff, or I’m gonna need a lot of cold showers.”

“What for?” I asked innocently.

With noticeable discomfort he explained. Then we walked back to his Jeep as we held hands. I never realized holding hands with someone could feel so comforting, even intimate. When Dirk started his Jeep, the radio came on playing an oldies station.

‘I’ll stop the world and melt with you,’ were the words coming out of the speaker as the band Modern English played. We listened and smiled fondly at each other. We shared one chaste kiss when the song was over.

“That was quite the coincidence,” I suggested.

“No, it was meant to be,” Dirk declared. “I feel like you’re my destiny.”

“Dirk, today has been the best day of my life,” I told him. “The weird thing is, it’s still actually morning.”

“Then let’s continue to make it a great day,” Dirk said. “But in the days ahead, as our relationship develops, maybe we should just stick to the quick pecks, like we just did now.”

“Agreed,” I said offering my hand with a big smile. We shook on it.

In the days following, food tasted better, sleep was deeper, and sunny days were brighter. I loved falling in love with Dirk. It was the most fun that I had ever had and it felt so natural. We actually behaved, too. We saw each other every day and only held hands with a quick kiss when we parted ways.

I was on cloud nine. Even when Dirk and I were apart, I felt like we were somehow together. Then my bliss was interrupted by Jezebel Black. She wanted me for some kind of twisted ritual that I wouldn’t be able to escape from without a little help from my friends. No – correct that. Without a little help from my family.

CHAPTER 19

DESTINY

I didn’t know if I felt like a mother, or even an older sister. I just knew that my heart was breaking right along with Amy’s as she wept. I sat next to her and held her until her sobbing subsided.

“Do you want to talk about what’s troubling you?” I asked when she removed her face from her hands.

“I’m just majorly frustrated,” she said with a shrug. “I found out that Dirk has been seeing the news reporter, Whitney Waconia. As a matter of fact, he had to take me home when he did because he has a date with her tonight. I got the feeling from his brother’s innuendos that Dirk and Whitney are going to consummate their relationship tonight as well.”

Amy put her face back into her hands and cried a little more.

“Oh, honey,” I soothed as I rubbed her back.

“That especially hurts because he had told me that sex should be between two committed people,” Amy croaked. “How could they be committed in such a short time?”

I didn’t know what to say. We were silent for a minute when Amy took a deep breath and exhaled unsteadily.

“So you met Dirk’s brother?” I asked.

“Yeah, his name’s Devin,” she told me. “You would not believe how much they look alike. I almost asked if they were twins, but then I remembered Dirk told me that Devin was a couple years older. But whereas Dirk’s hair is shaggy, kind of like a surfer dude, Devin’s hair is like one of those retro 50’s style. I even thought he looked like James Dean when he lit a cigarette.”

“Are the two brothers at all alike?”

“Not at all,” Amy said with disgust. “Devin’s a creep. He leered at me the whole time we were with him. He made crude remarks and he even commented on my breasts.”

“You’re kidding! What a creep!”

“Yeah,” Amy agreed, nodding. “But Dirk reprimanded him.”

“So Dirk dating Whitney is what upset you?” I asked gently.

“Yes, plus the fact that I know there is a mutual attraction between us. We just really click, but Whitney got to him first. And she’s much prettier than me.”

“I beg to differ on that.”

“I think you’re biased,” she giggled.

“I think I’m a realist.”

“Thank you,” she said with a warm smile. “Anyway, on our motorcycle ride, we stopped at a park and got to talking. Time seemed to stand still. But then Dirk panicked when he noticed how time had gotten away from us. He suddenly declared he needed to get ready for his hot date.”

“He called it a hot date?”

“No, he called it plans. I called it a hot date. Oh well, I just need to put Dirk out of my mind and move on.”

“Sweetie, maybe you just need to be patient,” I told her. “I spent a decade dreaming about Brock. Ninety-nine percent of that time it was purely fantasy. Shoot, I went nine years without even seeing him. Now he’s my husband and we have a daughter. It has exceeded my wildest dreams.”

“You’re pregnant! I thought you couldn’t have kids.”

“No, sweetie, I meant you.”

Her eyes clouded with tears yet again, as did mine. Her arms went around me and she hugged me tightly.

“I love you so much, Dee,” she said softly into my ear.

“I love you, too, honey,” I replied before I kissed her cheek.

“You know what, though?” she asked as our bodies separated. “I just know they are going to have sex, and that definitely ends it for me.”

“You don’t know that,” I tried to reassure her.

“Now, Mom,” she chuckled. “Shouldn’t you be telling me I just have a crush and this will pass?”

I was touched by her calling me that, even though I knew she was partly joking. As for telling her it was just a crush, I disagreed. Call it woman’s intuition or a gut feeling.

“You’re mostly right,” I conceded. “Let’s take it to God.”

Amy and I knelt, facing each other. We joined hands and bowed our heads, and I prayed  for the girl I loved like a daughter. I concluded by asking God to put into Dirk’s mind what he had talked about with Amy about sex, love, and commitment.

DIRK

Amy would not leave my mind after I dropped her off at the Knight-Storm residence. I should have been thinking about Whitney, the exceptionally pretty woman who was waiting for me. She was the reason I was going home to clean up; the person I was going to be with that evening. But my mind wouldn’t leave the young lady I had just left.

What I was feeling was mostly foreign to me. Before Amy and Whitney, Angie was the only girl I had ever deeply desired, but she and I never really moved beyond friends. I wanted Angie and me to be more, but she had kept her distance, despite my subtle persuasions. I didn’t understand her mild rejections of my romantic inclinations until she took her own life.

She never had confided to me about the horrible abuse that she had endured by someone who was supposed to have been her guardian. She had felt unworthy of my love because of being defiled by her abusive stepfather. I will never know whether she would have restrained from her act of self-execution if she only knew that it would not have been an obstacle with me. It wasn’t her fault, and it would have only made me show her more love and understanding with her negative, angry, depressive mindset. One of the things that drew me to her, was that behind her tough, goth bravado was hurt little girl. I just didn’t know the why behind the pain.

To say life is difficult and complex is an understatement. There are countless psychological ingredients that make up a person, a character. The most dramatic thing in my life that shaped who I became was the unexpected death of my parents. Even though my brother and I weren’t in the accident that took our parent’s lives, our minds were severely injured because of it.

I don’t know what Devin and I would have done if our loving grandparents didn’t take us in. However, even with a safe place to land, our lives were forever altered. I became more withdrawn, and Devin became more aggressive. I became increasingly shy and timid; Devin got into fights and all manner of trouble. I watched my classmates and wanted no part of cliques or bullying. My brother became homecoming king and the leader of the most desired clique in his class. For the most part, I adhered to my grandparent’s strict religion. Devin not only thumbed his nose at it, but also declared atheism and survival of the fittest as his life philosophies.

By the time Devin graduated from high school, he had had sex with several girls. By the time I graduated, I had barely kissed and held hands with only one girl. A girl I loved more than she ever knew. I had spent several years becoming emotionally invested in a girl that was infinitely more broken than me.

After Angie died, I was even more devastated than with my parents tragic demise. Her suicide left me with the helpless, endless thought, what could I have done to stop it? I spent the next couple of years wandering in a bleak, lonely mental wilderness. I sometimes felt suicidal myself. But I somehow never completely lost all hope. It’s a tragic and bizarre thing when your own mind wants to kill you.

When I saw Amy at the hospital and then during her visit at my apartment, I thought she was an adorably cute teenager. She seemed so young and girlish that I didn’t give any thought to any romance. Then she showed up at my apartment a second time and had somehow transformed into a stunning young woman. Then during the motorcycle ride, we stopped, walked, and talked at a park. I marveled at her depth and insightfulness. She had a maturity beyond her years. First impressions aren’t always accurate.

I showered, shaved, and readied myself for dinner with Whitney. It was still a bit too early to go over to her place, so I sat on my couch and quickly entered into a trancelike state. However, the focus of my meditation was not Whitney. The person in complete view of my mind’s eye was Amy. Why?

In the week or two I had been dating Whitney, I was nervous to the point of nausea before every encounter. Now we seemed destined to become intimate tonight. Yet I was hardly nervous because she wasn’t foremost on my mind. Amy was. How?

I kept seeing Amy’s lovely, exotic green and blue eyes as they danced when she told me about Destiny, Brock, and their goofy friend, Bentley Bonnano. I saw the way her cute little nose sometimes crinkled when she laughed or giggled. I saw her hand as she gently stroked her red gold braid as she expounded on deep spiritual thoughts. I smiled as I recalled us laughing over her Looney Tunes ring tone.

No doubt about it, I was majorly attracted to Amy. The million-dollar question was whether she was attracted to me. I ran through all of the possible indications. The clearest sign had to be that thing with the credit card. How did a credit card just pop out of a wallet that was in her purse? Then she knew right where to look for it. Did she leave it for an excuse to come back to my place? I think she might have.

I had an old cuckoo clock, and I looked at it as I watched the bird cuckoo seven times. I was supposed to be at Whitney’s at seven! Luckily, I lived less than ten minutes away. I called her and told her that I was running a little late. Even though she said she understood, her cool tone of voice let me know she was irritated. Her response bothered me because I hated to displease people in general, let alone a gorgeous woman. A gorgeous woman I had a date with! When I arrived, she greeted me with a huge toothy smile, and I was instantly relieved.

“You had me worried,” Whitney said as I entered her condo. “I’ve never been stood up before.”

Seriously? I was only ten minutes late, plus I called her at one minute after seven.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,” I stammered. “I was with a friend and we got to talking. Then I had to take my motorcycle to my brother’s place and get my Jeep.”

“I think I can find a way to forgive you,” she said with a sultry voice as she lightly ran a finger over my jaw, then over my lips.

She wore a tiny form-fitting red dress. It was so short that ninety percent of her bare thigh was exposed, and her oversized chest barely covered. Her face closed in on mine, and she kissed me passionately. Amy had been on my mind ever since I saw her walking out of my apartment building. I’m ashamed to admit that, after this very wet, warm greeting, thoughts of Amy were rapidly replaced with Whitney’s ample cleavage and bare thighs.

Dinner was some type of stir fry. I can’t remember the specifics as I became more hungry for Whitney as we ate. As we conversed and dined, my thoughts began to shift in favor of Whitney over Amy. After all, Whitney clearly desired me, whereas I wasn’t sure about Amy.

But didn’t I tell Amy that I believed in sex taking place only in a committed relationship? Whatever I had with Whitney, it wasn’t that. Oh, I was telling myself it was the beginning of such. Besides, a man had needs and I needed this, didn’t I? Can you blame me? You should have seen Whitney in the little red dress, all legs and chest.

After dinner was finished, it didn’t take long before Whitney and I were kissing hot and heavy. I lost track of time and nothing else on the planet mattered. In those moments, Amy had left my mind. Before I knew it, we were in Whitney’s bedroom with the lights dimmed and our clothes becoming scarce. I removed my pants, dug in the pocket for the prophylactic, and climbed into bed with her.

“What kind of condom is that?” she asked with a frown.

“I don’t know,” I replied with my own frown.

“Where’d you get it?”

“Out of a dispenser in a restroom.”

“Oh, babe, I don’t think so.”

Whitney reached into a nightstand drawer and handed me a twelve count box of condoms that said ‘Trojan.’ There were two left in the box. Did she have sex with ten different guys or ten times with the same guy? Or something in between?

Oh well, you should have seen her, laying there in her birthday suit. Nothing else mattered to me in that moment but making use of one of those condoms.

What happened next may sound strange, but something miraculous happened when I tore open the condom wrapper. Looking back, I truly believe God intervened on my foolish, carnal behalf. It’s been said that God works in mysterious ways. I’m here tell you He also works in mysterious places.

Right at the same instant I ripped the cellophane wrapper, an image of Amy popped into my head. It was of her right before we parted ways just a few hours earlier, when we were gazing into each other’s eyes. In the heat of this passion, my mind had been completely obsessed with carnal desire. How did Amy appear there?

Then I actually not only recalled what I told Amy, I didn’t think I could go through this. Was I crazy? Whitney looked like she was right out of the pages of a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue. But she was live, breathing, and not wearing a swimsuit! And she wanted me!

Wanted me for what?

“What’s the matter?” I heard Whitney say.

What was coming to my mind had paralyzed me, though. ‘This is not right,’ I thought so powerfully it might have been audible. ‘You don’t love this woman and you never will.’ Then I pictured Amy’s big beautiful, exotic eyes looking into mine. Such amazing eyes, one blue and one green. In her look, I saw the future, and it was as if she telling me that she herself was my home. Not a place, not a structure, but wherever she was, I would be home.

“I can’t do this,” I told Whitney.

“What do you mean you can’t do this?” she asked incredulously.

“I don’t love you. I don’t know that I ever will.”

“What’s love got to do with it?” she snorted.

“I want to be in love with the woman I have sex with,” I told her. I began to get dressed.

“You’re actually serious!” she exclaimed. “No guy has ever turned down sex with me, ever! Are you gay or something?”

“Or something,” I replied.

She went on a tirade, strung with a lot of profanity. She called me derogatory names.

“Look, Whitney. Once again, I’m sorry,” I told her. “You’re just not my type, and I know I’m really not yours either.”

She called me a derogatory name for a homosexual, and declared that was the reason that she wasn’t my type.

“No, Whitney,” I said. “You’re not my type because I prefer women more wholesome and natural. Also women who don’t have boxes of condoms in their nightstand drawers. Mostly empty boxes of condoms, no less.”

“Hey, I’ve had that box of Trojans for almost a year,” she protested, pointing a finger at me. “Well, months anyway… I don’t like what you’re implying, just because I have an active social life.”

Her witchy behavior was getting under my skin, and I momentarily indulged in an attitude more suited to my brother.

“An active social life, huh?” I said. “What an interesting way to acknowledge that you’re promiscuous.”

“Get out!” Whitney demanded, pointing at the door.

This action caused the real me to surface.

“Look, Whitney. Let’s not part ways like this,” I told her.

“Just leave,” she said with a calm but stern voice.

“You are a smart, sexy, smoking hot woman,” I said meekly. “What I’m doing is one of the most difficult things that I’ve ever done in my life. I’m just not comfortable with recreational sex.”

Her features softened considerably as she folded her arms under her ample, bare breasts. I made my eyes stay on hers. Whether because it was the right thing to do, or I didn’t want to torment myself with what I was turning down, I didn’t know. I do know being human can be twisted, hard, and confusing.

“Friends?” I asked, smiling and offering my hand since she had now put a robe on.

“You’re a special man, Dirk Easton,” Whitney told me. “I’ve never met a guy like you.”

“Thank you,” I stammered. “Take care.”

“Okay then. Bye,” she said with a disappointed sigh.

I walked away from her place feeling numb. When my brother asked me how this went, he might just slap me when I told him. But my bigger concern was Amy. I still wasn’t sure of her feelings for me. Then I recalled the condom dropping incident with my brother. She probably thought I was using it tonight with Whitney. So what was Amy thinking about me now? If she even was. What did I do now?