A Quick Road to Hell

Sarah trembled as he continued on his Heavenly rant, avoiding eye contact at all costs. If she'd learned anything from her time at this church, she'd learned not to make eye contact with Preacher Davis. It was hard too, because...well...Preacher Davis was hot. Real hot. So hot it was hard to concentrate on the sermons he preached. All she seemed to be able to do was sit there and wonder if he ever had those manly desires that other men had. Did he ever lust after women? When he saw Ms. Baker...the sexiest woman in the church, did he ever desire her? Or was he so full of God that those things never entered his mind?

Preacher Davis was a young, single preacher. Did he date? Did he ever let his hands wander on those dates? Did he ever make love under the stars, or was he too afraid God was watching? Sarah sat there, listening to the rich timbre of his voice, feeling a deepening urge inside of her. Sometimes during the sermon, her mind would wander into places she knew it shouldn't go.

Sometimes she would fantasize about catching Preacher Davis all alone. In her fantasy, she was wearing a short blue jean skirt, and a blouse unbuttoned as far as she dared. Her hair was gleaming and it was shiny, like her well-glossed lips. She would find him in his office working on his sermon, and she would knock on his door, asking if she could talk to him. During the course of her telling whatever her problem was, she would see him peeking at the top of her blouse. She would run her hand up to her throat and take a deep breath....and his eyes would meet hers. He would start counseling her, and she would slowly cross her legs as she listened, bouncing one leg up and down slowly. Soon he would begin to forget his words and his voice would become a bit huskier. And she would know. She would know in that moment that he was wondering what she looked like under the skirt and blouse. At that point she would just smile, and thank him. He would rise up to walk her to the door and she would see the bulge in the front of his pants, and she would smile to herself, knowing that she did, indeed have the power of Eve...and that any man would fall to her given the right circumstances. Even a man of God. And as she walked away from the church, she would imagine what he might be doing there in his office now that she had left him hot and hard. And she would giggle, imagining his stains on his sermon as he preached that Sunday.

But that was only fantasy. Her reality was before her, and he was preaching fire and brimstone as she avoided looking at him. For if he could see into her thoughts right now, feel the moistness between her legs, he would surely believe she was on a quick road to hell. And for all she knew, he was right. But she was only seventeen. And death was an eternity away in her mind. Right now, her fantasies seemed to be her only salvation.