When my boss asked me if I’d be prepared to work at another branch of our company for a few months, I was a little bit reluctant to move, but the more I thought about it, the more I realised it might be good for me. I was in a rut, my life apart from work, was going nowhere, my social life and my sex life was none-existent. Here I was in my mid-forties, just over six foot tall, no Brad Pitt looks wise, but I didn’t scare myself too much when I was looking in the shaving mirror. Short dark hair, blue eyes; what was it with blue eyes that women supposedly liked so much? I couldn’t figure that one out, I had blue eyes, and as far as I knew my blue eyes had never gotten any woman into bed yet. I had a reasonable physique, and was moderately intelligent, and yet here I was at my age, alone again. Maybe it was time I got out and faced the world once more, and a new location might well bring fresh opportunities. The next morning, with my decision made, I told my boss that I would do it, and so it was arranged. I only had a few days to wind things up where I was, because the move was going to be immediate, they needed me there the next week.
My new location was a small country town, but luckily the company had arranged reasonably nice accommodation for me. A small house on the outskirts of town, where I was met by an older company secretary, who gave me the keys, and showed me around the house. She told me they had arranged for a service company to stop by and clean the house, change the sheets, etc once a week. I’d have to cook for myself or eat out, and she left me to unpack and settle in.
Work was fine, I knew what I was doing, and they were pretty decent and helpful folks, and friendly too. It was when I got home after work that time hung heavily on my hands. I knew nobody in the area apart from work colleagues, and being a small town there wasn’t much going on at nights, not that I’m a nightlife sort of person anyway. I hardly touch alcohol, and don’t do drugs. The weekends weren’t so bad because I’m a keen photographer, and I planned to go out and scout around the area for interesting buildings, scenery, or whatever. I prefer to photograph people, being a sociable kind of guy, but since I knew nobody that option wasn’t available just yet.
As the first weekend approached, one of the guys in the office, asked me if I had anything planned that weekend, to which the answer was no! He very kindly invited me to a barbecue on Saturday afternoon, and with nothing better to do I accepted. It would get me out of the house I reasoned, and maybe it would be an opportunity to meet and make new friends. It was only later that I discovered it was a ‘Church’ barbecue. Now it has to be said that nobody in their wildest dreams could every call me a church goer. If someone has a faith and they didn’t try to preach at me or push it down my throat, I’m fine with it, but for myself, I’m a none-believer, with slight agnostic leanings. However it was too late now to pull out without maybe causing offense to my colleague, and so I decided to just go with the flow.
Regarding churches, I had one friend when I was in my twenties who attended a few different churches regularly. When I asked him why, because I knew he wasn’t a believer, he explained his theory that there are always women in churches who go because they’ve always gone. It was habit more than conviction. Furthermore his theory went, they’ve often been repressed sexually, but if they could just be persuaded to ‘sin’ they went at it with a rare enthusiasm that the average woman just couldn’t match. Once they got the taste for it, they couldn’t keep their panties on, or their legs closed. It was an interesting theory, but I remembered laughing about it at the time and thinking he was crazy. Now I was hoping there just may be ‘something’ in his crazy theory.
Come Saturday I was up early as usual, showered, shaved and ready to go, but far too early for the barbecue. So I did a little housework, nothing strenuous, washing a few cups and plates, just tidying things away, keeping the place in order. Time passed soon enough, and I drove over to the address I’d been given, and that was my first surprise. I was thinking ‘church’ equals old and traditional, but this was a modern building with lots of glass, and a large welcoming open area where lots of people were gathered. Family groups, mothers, fathers, kids running around having a good time and far enough away from the road to avoid any danger. I parked in the spacious car park at the side and rear of the building, and walked round to join the throng and look for the colleague who had invited me there. He must have been keeping a look out for me, because as I approached the crowd, he walked through between a couple of small groups of people, shook my hand and welcomed me to the barbecue. He led me over to a table set up in front of the church steps and offered me a drink, which I gratefully accepted, and then he started walking me through the crowd introducing me to this person and that person, all of whom I forgot instantaneously. There were a couple of women I paid special note to and remembered their names for future reference. Anadolu Yakası Escort If my friends theory panned out, then I hoped it might be at least one of them.
I could see that this was a very ‘fashionable’ church, evangelicals I thought, ‘happy clappy’ types, but nothing wrong with that I mused. The minister in charge of all this introduced himsel, and he followed my pre conceived notions exactly. Tall, well built, good looking with a mane of long dark hair, looking a bit like a rock star, and I could easily imagine some of the ladies in the congregation getting wet during his sermons. We chatted for a few minutes, and he invited me to come to the sermon the next day. I told him I may well do that, but I wasn’t in the least bit religious. I thanked him for the invitation in a very none-committal way. I never went back.
A little later I needed to go to the toilet, and when I enquired where they were I was pointed towards the church. As I made my way up the steps, I noticed there was little platform with some musical equipment on it, drums, a keyboard, and a couple of guitars. I stopped momentarily to have a look, but the call of nature was too strong, and so I made my way inside.
As I came out of the toilet I noticed Kelly, one of the women I had been introduced to earlier and she smiled again, which was enough for me to stop and talk to her. We got chatting and I could see almost immediately that she was more than just a guest or an ordinary member of the congregation, because while we were talking people kept coming up to her, asking her about things, or about arrangements, she would tell them, and they would be on their way again. So, I asked her about it, and it seems she was in charge of the Sunday school classes or some such. She was quite friendly considering I was a stranger, and I mused that maybe she thought she could convert me, which was ironic because I was hoping I could convert her.
I had a good look at her while I was talking to her, and the most obvious feature was her height. She was I estimated, about five foot nine inches tall, very slim and elegant. Long dark hair, a wide generous mouth with great teeth, and blue eyes. She was lovely, but not conventionally beautiful, although I found her very attractive, and very desirable. I had an indefinable feeling about her, almost a ‘gut’ instinct that there was more to this woman than what was on the surface. She just had a special, ‘something’ and I couldn’t for the life of me say what it was. She was about forty, I guessed, although I’m not very good at guessing women’s ages. It didn’t matter really how old she was I thought, because I could see the wedding ring on her finger, and that allied with the fact that she was a church going ‘god-fearing Christian woman,’ meant that there was no chance I would be fucking her, much as I liked the idea.
I asked her about the guitars and drums on the little platform outside, just to make further conversation and detain her a little longer, and she explained that some members of the church had formed a band to sing Christian Rock at church functions and services and they were going to be playing for the barbecue pretty soon. I told her I’d look forward to that and mentioned that I used to play in a band when I was younger. She smiled and said it would be lovely to hear a song from me too as various other members of the church would be going up to sing during the day. I declined, pleading lack of practice, I hadn’t sung for years I told her. although that was a lie, I sang every few days because I still enjoyed singing, but I only did it in private these days.
Anyway, lovely as it was talking to her, I didn’t want to outstay my ‘welcome’ so to speak and excused myself, saying I could see she was busy, and went back out to join the rest of the folks. I was directed to a long line of tables where paper plates, cutlery, and things like bread, and salad, dressings etc were laid out. The barbecue itself was pretty big, and it would need to be considering the amount of people there, but pretty soon I had a sizzling hot burger on a bun, some chicken, chilli, etc. I sat down on a folding chair, and was really enjoying the food, when I became aware that someone was talking to me.
‘Do you mind if I sit with you?’ she asked, and I looked up to see the lovely Kelly, the Sunday school teacher from earlier. I told her I would be delighted to have her company and so she sat with me, and we chatted. I presumed she was just being nice to me seeing as how I was a stranger, and she didn’t want me to feel ignored. We talked about this and that for a few minutes, and then I said I’d noticed she was wearing a wedding ring, and I thought she would have been keeping her husband company rather than me, but it turned out he worked pretty crazy shifts at work and so missed a lot of the social occasions at church. She sounded a bit annoyed, or disappointed, I wasn’t quite sure which, maybe a mixture of both. Was there some room for hope here I wondered, but for the life of me I couldn’t see some way into her panties. I figured it would be best just to be me, be nice to her, and hope her facade crumbled.
‘You’re Bostancı Escort not religious,’ she said out of the blue and I felt it was a statement rather than a question, ‘You’re not thinking of joining the church are you?’ and I felt it best to be absolutely honest, and replied that I wasn’t, and what’s more I was an atheist with agnostic leanings, then added that she obviously was extremely religious. She laughed at that, but said nothing for a few moments. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she replied, but first looking around as if checking that she wasn’t being overheard. ‘When your parents are extremely devout Christians, and go to church twice every Sunday, and during the week too, it becomes something that you just do without questioning it, until maybe one day you begin to ask yourself why.’ I thought about that for a moment before replying.
‘I presume you’ve started to ask yourself why, and I honestly feel honoured that you’re confiding in me, but why me, I’m a virtual stranger to you?’ I asked her, but hoping I sounded sympathetic. Again she took a moment or two to answer, and I realised she must be absolutely desperate before confiding something like this to a stranger. This could be a possible turning point in her life, a hugely momentous event. She raised her head, and looked around her again, looking worried in case anyone should hear what she was going to say next. It suddenly seemed like the situation was pushing us closer together, with a conspiratorial ‘us and them’ mentality.
‘When you’re brought up within an exclusive group like I have been, your whole life is within the church. I went to church from the day I was born, and as a small child I only ever played with kids from the same church, and I attended the church school with those same kids. All the adults I knew were the parents of my school friends or relatives of my parents who were church members. While other kids were going to night clubs I was going to prayer meetings and church socials. I got married quite young at 17 years old, to a man who was quite a few years older than me, and who had the same upbringing as me. When you live like that, all your friends, all the people you socialise with are church members too.’ She looked around again, checking before voicing her feelings. ‘For a while now I’ve been feeling stifled, claustrophobic, unhappy.’ She bowed her head, and her shoulders shook. I knew she was crying, and I made to get up to comfort her, but she virtually hissed at me not to get up, do nothing she said, we are being watched, so I couldn’t go to her, or comfort her except by my words. Eventually she, reached for her handbag, pulled out a tissue, dabbed at the tears on her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, ‘but I had to tell someone, or I’d have screamed, and you seemed very nice, and you seemed interested in me when we spoke in the church.’ I assured her I was, and I could understand completely how she was feeling, and I asked her if she was planning to do something about how she felt.
‘I’m trying to work through it in my head before I do anything drastic,’ she replied. ‘It’s a huge step for me, and I have to be sure. Anyway, thank you so much for listening to me, I hope I haven’t put you off your food,’ and we both laughed, ‘but please don’t repeat what I’ve said to anyone. I would be in so much trouble if you did.’ I assured her that her confidence was secure and well placed.
‘How come you’re here today?’ she asked me, changing the subject away from her worries, and I explained that I had only been in town a week and I’d been invited by a work colleague. I hadn’t realised there was a church connection, and didn’t feel I could cancel at the last minute without causing offence when I found out, which explains why we were sitting here chatting like old friends. She smiled at that, and held up her glass of orange juice.
‘Here’s to new friends,’ she toasted with her gorgeous smile, and I did the same with my drink. ‘Since you’re new in town, what would you be doing if you hadn’t come here today?’ she asked me, and I told her I had planned to go for a long walk around the town to familiarise myself with the place. She joked that it would have been a very short ‘long walk’ in that case, there was damn all to see, and we both laughed again. However, when I explained that I was taking my camera and was going to look for possible interesting old buildings and possible any local ‘beauty spot’ to take landscape photographs, she showed some interest, and asked me more about it.
‘Well,’ I started. ‘I used to be a professional photographer before I do what I’m doing now, and I still love photography and still take photos just for my own amusement.’ Of course the usual questions followed, and with most people their only interaction with photographers is through social occasions, weddings, christenings, family occasions. I explained that I didn’t do weddings or christenings, I preferred to shoot more on the portrait side, model portfolios, and testing the waters to see her reactions, I added, ‘boudoir photography.’ She looked puzzled until I explained what it was, but far from being shocked as I expected, she Erenköy Escort seemed quite interested.
‘You know,’ she started off, ‘when I was about fourteen or fifteen, I was in the dentist’s waiting room one day, and saw a copy of “Vogue” magazine. I was amazed by the photographs of these stunningly beautiful women. I’d never seen anything like it in my life, it was a different world to me. It was so exciting, but my mother realised what I was looking at and took it away from me. She said they were “harlots” and cursed by the lord, and I must never look at anything like that again. I didn’t know what a harlot was, so for a long time, I had a secret ambition to be a “harlot” until I understood what a harlot really was.’ We both laughed, and I thought how beautiful she looked when she was happy.
‘They weren’t harlots, just models, making the most of their good looks, and earning a living from doing it,’ I explained, and she replied that she knew that now, but back then she didn’t know any better. ‘So, you really wanted to be a model then?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I suppose that’s what it was, but I knew nothing back then, I was very naive, and so easily influenced by my mother, father and family. A few short years later I was married, and I forgot about it until now.’ She shrugged, ‘anyway that was years ago. Just another thing I’ll never do thanks to my upbringing,’ she said regretfully, giving me the opening which I grabbed with both hands.
‘You could still do it, not professionally, but you could model just for the fun, the enjoyment, and it seems to me you could stand to have a little enjoyment in your life,’ I stated. She smiled wistfully, protesting that she was too old, but I assured her that if she was doing it just for herself there was no such thing as too old, and besides, I’d photographed women much older than her, and we had created really beautiful pictures together, which was true. I’d be delighted to photograph her anytime she wanted I offered. She looked thoughtful.
‘Are you talking about this “boudoir” photography?’ she asked, ‘because I could never do anything like that.’ I did my best to explain that I wasn’t talking about that, just a few portrait or fashion type shots to let her see how beautiful she appeared in my eyes. She smiled and looked very pleased. ‘Okay,’ she replied, still sounding a very unsure of herself, and very cautious, ‘but what would I have to do?’ So, I explained that since it was summer, maybe a nice feminine summer type dress, a little make-up. Perhaps a local park or woodland, and we’d do some outdoor shots. Okay,’ she replied again, her confidence growing, ‘where and when?’ and so we arranged it for the following Tuesday. Her parting words were words of caution. If anyone asks what we were talking about, I was inviting you to come to the sermon tomorrow, and trying to encourage you to join the church. I was very persuasive and tried really hard.
Come the day and I waited for her in the car park of a local park, full of anticipation. She was a little late, which made me anxious that perhaps she wasn’t going to turn up. It was a strong possibility, because we’d made the arrangement the previous Saturday, and we hadn’t spoken since. I had no way of contacting her, but within a few minutes another car drove into the car park, and she pulled up alongside my car. She got out, smiled that gorgeous smile at me again. She was wearing a nice summer dress, mostly red with a small floral motif, a little longer than knee length, bare suntanned legs, but all quite modest, as was to be expected from a woman of her background I thought, and I complimented her on her choice saying it was perfect, and she looked great. She smiled, and we exchanged a few pleasantries about the weather being so nice, and then strolled into the park. It was a well maintained park, lots of flowers and shrubs, but we made our way over to the left of the entrance where there was a semi-wild woodland area a few hundred yards away. It was a beautiful day, and the shade of the trees should give us some nice, diffused light for taking photos. Strong sunlight is no good for taking photos, too many harsh shadows.
Just inside the edge of the wood there were some large boulders, a natural formation, but ideal for her to sit on while I took some shots. We started by getting her to sit on one of them, and I had a look at her through the lens, assuring her as I did so that I wasn’t taking a picture yet, just lining things up, framing etc, and she understood, looking a little nervous all the same. I put the camera to my eye, and the only way I can describe it is ‘magic.’ The camera loved her, she looked amazing from the top of her head to the trim, neat ankles. I hadn’t really studied her at the church, but now I took a long look at her. She was as I said very tall, which was good because it means she was perfectly proportioned, and that’s the reason why professional model agencies insist their models are a minimum of five foot eight inches tall. Her figure was slim, and well proportioned, her breasts about a thirty-four A, to small B cup, her hips slender too, and she had legs to die for. Long, and beautifully shaped, with nice ankles. Just looking at her was making me hard, and I hoped she wouldn’t notice, but then I thought, what better compliment could there be than the fact that I found her so lovely she made me hard. If she noticed, then she would just have to notice.