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The End.
Good Golly, Miss Molly
She stood on the street corner next to the lamp post. Cliche, yes, but she was sure to catch the attention of the men.
She was a woman in her thirties, not beautiful, yet better than plain. Her blouse was tight, open to reveal her full breasts. The skirt very short, barely covering her butt. She wore dark hose, medium high heels. Her hair piled high, makeup excessive. Everything she thought would encourage men to approach her.
And when they did, she would lecture them on the sins of the flesh. Attempt to shame them into changing their ways. Men would curse her, laugh or spit, but none seemed to take her message to heart. Yet she persisted. Every Friday and Saturday night, nine 'til twelve.
She had been doing this for months, since the revelation in April that she must do this.
Now it was late September, a cold drizzle had begun. She hadn't thought to bring a coat, and no one had come by in over an hour. She wondered how long she must continue this task, when she could stop.
Slowly a car approached, pulled up beside her. The passenger side window descended, and a mans voice asked if she needed a ride. She started into her speech, when a cold shiver ran through her. The weather. She didn't want to do this any more.
She nodded her head, opened the door, slid into the seat. The warmth was lovely. Such a simple pleasure. How could those other women do this in such weather?
As she relaxed into the seat, the man spoke, "Sister, have you met The Lord?"
"What?"
"I can take you away from this life of filth and degradation, help you find redemption."
"Pastor Rodgers?"
"Yes, but who are ..."
The overhead light came on. "Molly? What are you doing out here? I thought you..."
She explained her mission.
"But, I come out for the same reason, to turn the women away from this sinful life."
A cold shiver ran visibly through her, Pastor Rodgers realized how cold she was. "Don't you have a coat? How do you come here? Do you drive?"
"No, I didn't think what the weather would be like when I came out."
"How did you get here?"
"By bus. the last bus home is just after midnight. That's how long I stay down here."
"But you'll catch your death of cold if you remain, let me take you home."
As they drove, he told her of his calling. His not having married. His dedication to service.
She talked about her life, the single woman in an office of men. Men constantly making passes at her, trying to look down her blouse, pinch her bottom.
At her apartment, she invited him in, coffee would warm them. Besides, she owed him for the ride.
They sat opposite each other in the living room. She hadn't thought to change, simply bustled about, making coffee, putting cookies on a plate.
He leaned forward, taking a cookie as they conversed, when a flash of white caught his eye, the white of her panties. Her skirt had ridden up, exposing the simple cotton covering. He stuttered, losing what he had been about to say.
Glancing up, he realized she was watching him. Looking back down, her legs opening slowly, revealing more. Again he stuttered, "I...I, I should be going."
"No, stay. I don't have many visitors."
His eyes returned to her panties. Was that a wet spot forming? An aroma came to him. Something new, haunting. It called to him. Dropping to his knees, the scent drew him to her thighs, compelled him to lay kisses on each, follow the scent to it's source, bury his nose in it.
