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I swallow. My mouth as suddenly as dry as the dusty air.
“And so I tried. Just with my hands, just to try to understand. And that's when… I felt it.”
“Felt what?” I hear myself croak.
“Oh, I've never felt anything like it before, I promise. It came on
upon me totally by surprise, as though it's been inside me this whole time. Like a hot, coiled thing. Like a snake that suddenly unwound itself and filled me with venom. I could feel it, so hot everywhere. In every part of my body."
Shake my head. The light catches her all around in a sort of dusty halo. Am I hearing what I think I'm hearing?
I try to imagine it: her laying in her bed, her fingers blindly seeking her flower, before nature overwhelms her. Before her nascent desires bloom, unbidden, taking over her body by surprise.
My heart is beating fast. I know exactly what she's describing. Something in me desperately wishes I'd been there to see it.
“Angel, I don't believe you have a demon inside you,” I tell her slowly.
“But it was there! I could feel it! So hot, so furious! I was possessed!”
“Enough!”
My cock throbs against the front of the trousers that I wear on sermon days. I feel the teeth of the zipper imprinting along the underside of my shaft. When is the last time I was this hard? When is the last time that I simply wanted to give in to this kind of magnetism?
“I'm sorry! I’m so ashamed!”
She falls forward, catching herself with her palms against the wood floor. On all fours, she sobs pitifully, her body quaking under the thin cotton dress. I can easily imagine slipping up behind her, sliding my arm around her tiny waist, pulling her round buttocks against the bulge in my pants…
“You're forgiven,” I tell her hoarsely. “Thank you so much for telling me. Now you should go.”
She sniffles, hard. “Um, what?”
“You should go. You're completely forgiven. We'll talk about this another time, but tell no one else.”
She starts to look over her shoulder at me, and my heart lurches. I don't want her to see me. I'm sure what I am feeling would be as plain as day in my expression.
“Go, now!”
She heaves to her feet obediently, pushing the door open with a bang. As her figure hurries up the hill, I feel the pressure begin to abate.
That was close. I almost lost myself to carnal impulses. The image was crystalline in my mind, so compelling I almost acted on it. So close. I can't be alone with this one. I can't be expected to give her the deflowering ceremony either, come to think of it. How could I be sure to control myself?
The duties will have to fall to Owen. At least that way, I won’t be tempted further. He can breach her, open her into the ways of the Family.
But as soon as I think it, I know I will never let that happen. That can’t be the way it is either. The thought of another man is unacceptable. Not right in front of me.
Maybe he was right. Maybe we really should allow her to pay off her mother's debt. That burden is hard for Kingdom Come to absorb, and it sets a bad example to keep letting it go, unchallenged.
Letting one of the local men have a chance with her, perhaps that is how she would best be of service. The money would help, and I wouldn’t have to grapple with the lust in my heart any longer. The temptation would simply be removed.
Here in the compound, she’s learned so many good skills and qualities that a woman should have. The sorts of things women in the outside world have lost over time: cooking, sewing, caring for children. Most of all, our women understand their place in the hierarchy of a family. They understand their role as willing, pliant helpmeets to their men.
And I admit, I am aware that her lack of presence in the outside world is another asset to them. I’m sure Dustin is well-aware that Angel has no birth certificate, no Social Security card. Her mother had her somewhere outside a hospital and couldn’t be bothered to get those documents for her.
As far as the outside world is concerned, Angel doesn’t even exist. She’s a free spirit, totally outside the realm of men.
I can’t help but think of Rose, the last woman who left in Dustin’s care. She wasn’t like Angel — pure, sweet, undocumented. But no one was looking for her. In fact, no one had heard from her in over a year when I received her papers back in a brown envelope, left under my door.
No explanation, nothing. No one knew to look for her, so no one had. I wonder what her last days were like. I hope she was sky high. That’s the best I can hope for.
