The Whole World in Her Hands
I don’t know how I got myself into this situation. Well okay, that’s not true. It wasn’t like I was just moseying along, and accidentally stumbled into a church. Her name was Christina and I met her at a bookstore a few weeks back. She was reading some Artaud translation and happened to peer up while I was checking her out and holding a Robert Parker novel. We smiled at each other, and the next thing I knew we were getting coffee around the block and then out of nowhere we were snuggled up on the couch in my apartment. She straddled me and started to push her tongue down my throat. I started sliding my hands up her back and she removed her tongue from the inside of my mouth, pushed my hands slowly back to my sides, and readjusted herself. She kissed my neck and whispered in my ear:
“I don’t sleep with every guy I meet, Nick.”
I watched the crucifix hanging around her neck sway back and forth.
“You aren’t saving it for marriage, are you?”
“No. I just don’t like to jump into things.”
Well normally, that would have been it for me. It wasn’t that I was some misogynistic pig, but I didn’t see the point in wining and dining someone, for weeks on end, just to maybe, possibly, end up sleeping with them (perhaps I am a misogynistic). But there was something different about Christina. She had long, red hair that looked like it had been dyed, but wasn’t. There were freckles that ran across her face, and an innocence that could only belong to someone that counts for less than two-percent of the earth’s population. The two of us kept making-out like a couple of middle-schoolers. It took some effort, but I tried not to get too excited when she dry-humped me. This was starting to become a daily occurrence, and I didn’t know how much longer I could put up with it.
I was fighting off an erection one night when Christina was sitting on top of me, and I started working my hands up her back. When they reached her bra-strap she released herself from my lips and pushed my hands back down.
“You’re no fair,” I said resting my hands on her hips.
“Don’t you feel that?”
I thrusted my pelvis ever so slightly upward. Christina laughed and bit her lip.
“I’m sure you have plenty of girls who would take care of things like that. I’m just not the one.”
She went back to poking her tongue down my throat. What Christina was implying felt nice, it really gave the ego a good stroking, but it simply wasn’t true. My luck with the ladies was running out and had been for some time. The world was moving on to new and enlightened things, and the perpetual bad boy was not winning the war the way he used to. I started sliding my hands up her back again, and when I wrapped one of my fingers around her bra strap she unclenched my lips and raised one of her eyebrows at me.
“What would it take?”
“Hmmm. I don’t think I do.”
“To fuck you,” I said kissing her neck.
“You really want to know?”
“Okay,” she said hopping off of me. “But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
And that’s how I ended up in a church bright and early this Sunday morning. I had found a wrinkled, white button-up and black tie I was sure I had worn to a funeral a few years back. Christina was dressed in a red sundress with yellow roses on it, and if it weren’t for the fact we were in a house of the lord, I would have jumped her bones right then and there. Christina and I found some open pews and sat down. They were as far in the back as possible, per my request.
“I’m so glad you came,” Christina said.
“I’ll be glad when I cum too.”
“Nothing, nothing. Anything for you.”
She smiled, and the congregation started making their way into the chapel and filling in all of the empty pews. I watched a short, elderly man in a black robe start walking up to the pulpit. A group of young girls, all blonde and about seven or eight, walked up on stage behind the preacher and started singing “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.” People around me started clapping in rhythm with the song and I tried not to throw up in my mouth. I don’t know what it was, but organized religion and I had never gotten along. Maybe it was knowing that it was all a sham or knowing that the elderly guy standing before me right now probably had a better house and car than anyone out here. Christina’s bare knee pushed against my slacks and I felt as though I was going to lose it. It was weird. I’d spent the last few weeks acting like a middle schooler and now my threshold for attraction was at about middle-school level. A smile could have gave me a hard-on at this point. It made me want to reach my hand underneath Christina’s sundress and try to slide a finger in, but it didn’t feel right with the children singing:
He’s got the tiny little baby, in his hands.
He’s got the tiny little baby, in his hands.
He’s got the tiny little baby, in his hands
He’s got the whole world in his hands.
Everyone around me started to join in singing with the girls, including Christina. I never understood why this level of devotion and faith got under my skin. But in that moment, I was starting to think it had to be the nuns. I went to a catholic preschool and the nuns told my mother I wasn’t mature enough, so they held me back a year. I suppose I’d never forgave them–or religion–for that. Not that they were wrong. I mean here I was attending a church service in the pursuit of pussy. If that’s not immature I’m not sure what is.
The children stopped singing and the preacher waited a bit for everyone to settle down. I swallowed some saliva as Christina’s knee was pushing even harder into mine. The elderly man cleared his throat into the microphone.
“Good morning everyone. I’m so glad you all could be here. I see some new face, some old. But isn’t it just a great day on God’s planet?”
“Amens,” rang out all over the place.
“If you love the lord, let me hear GOD IS GREAT.
”GOD IS GREAT,” everyone said in unison without me.
“Today I’m going to talk about something that I think needs addressing,” he said opening up a binder in front of him. “I’ve been talking with Brother Johnson and he brought to my attention that many of our young people are starting to sin at an early age.”
There were gasps all around the room.
“Yes, yes. They are sinning early and having PREMARITAL SEX.”
I felt the sweat start to drip down from my forehead. The last thing I needed was some preacher fucking this up for me. They fucked up enough of the world as it was – altar boys, marriage for gays, and even abortion. I looked down and noticed that Christina had placed her hand on my thigh.
“Brother Johnson was informing me that at St. Mary’s we have four young girls that are pregnant. We must teach our children that for everything there is a time and place. As the Bible says, there is a season for giving, and a season for loving.”
“AMEN,” rang out again.
“I figured I’d spend some time today talking about what the Lord thinks of premarital sex. If we could all open our Bibles too…”
Everyone opened their Bibles to the verse he asked, and he started explaining how this was God telling us not to fornicate. I personally couldn’t understand how this verse had anything to do with sex at all. But that’s how most of the Bible was: someone telling you what something meant, even though they weren’t around and never met the person who wrote it. It was a complicated thing. The preacher stopped his sermon and gave a large smile. He seemed to be looking directly at me. Christina’s hand was completely on my crotch at this point. She had wrapped one finger through a belt loop. The preacher took his gaze away from me and closed his binder.
“Let’s all pray.”
I watched everyone bow their heads and close their eyes. He started with the usual – thanking the lord, repenting for everyone’s sins they may have committed, how the thing goes. Then out of nowhere, I felt it. Christina had reacher her hand under my trousers and was grabbing my half-chubbed cock. I sucked my lips in as she started stroking back and forth, back and forth. I tried to hold it together while the preacher, and her, and myself, were finishing up. I don’t know how I kept the grunt in, but I reached release just as the old man said “Amen.” Christina wiped her hands on my briefs, pulled her hand out, and said “Amen” in unison with everyone else.
The children started singing again and everyone got up and went into the lobby. There was food and talking and coffee, but I didn’t want any of that. I wanted to get hell out of this place. I started walking for the exit and Christina followed after me. I unlocked Volkswagen and swung the door open. I put the key in the ignition and dangled a Camel from my lips as I turned the motor over. Christina placed her hand on my thigh again. I shook my head and looked at her. It seemed like her green eyes had grown three sizes.
“I have to ask,” I said shaking my head.
“What was that exactly?”
“Have you never had a handjob before?”
“C’mon now. Men do that to themselves,”I said flicking an ash out of the window.“But in a church? Don’t you think that was a little risky? The old fucker could have noticed.”
“That ‘old fucker’ is my father.”
“He kept me locked up and in the house when I was a kid. Now that I’m grown, I take every chance to piss him off I get.”
“Yup. So I bring as many boys as I can to his Sunday services. He really doesn’t like knowing I do that in there.”
“I see,” I said heading out of the parking lot. “Good thing his eyes were closed while it was going down. That might have really pissed him off.”
“Is God going to tell him or something?”
“No, silly. I’ll tell him over dinner tomorrow.”
I held in a laugh. Christina started unzipping my trousers.
“Can we go to your place?”
“If that’s what you want.”
I watched her head go down to my waist as we made it to the first stoplight. A man with hole-y jeans and a baggy black shirt with the words JESUS SAVES sprawled across it was crossing in front of us. I couldn’t help but laugh. The light turned green and I took off, knowing that for everything there was a season and a time to every purpose under the sun. Time was looking good for me under the sun. I didn’t know how long it would last. Christina would probably be gone soon–she would need a new guy to parade around the church pews – but for this season it was me, and I’d take the laugh while I could get it.