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The small girl giggles and I find the sound just as cute as she is. Her eyes are big and brown and her skin is the color of milk chocolate, smooth and I bet it would be soft as silk to my calloused touch.
“Yeah, understand that. I think my parents make me come here each week for the very same reason.”
“You?” I roll my eyes. The girl doesn’t look like she’s done anything wrong or backward in her life. Maybe forgot to read her bible verses before bedtime, but that’s about it.
“What, you don’t believe I could do anything questionable?”
“Not at all.” I raise an incredulous eyebrow.
She places a hand on her curved hip, clothed in cut off jeans and covered in a ‘God’s Not Dead’ oversized tee.
“Do you want to sneak out of here?”
“What?” I laugh, thinking maybe I heard her wrong. Her small voice doesn’t quite reach my ears or at least I think. But when she repeats the sentiment, I’m left with no doubt.
“I said let’s get out of here before we’re locked in all night. You deaf or what? What’s your name anyway?”
“Phoenix, but you can call me Phoe.” I laugh, and she looks over her shoulder. “Where the hell are we going?” I ask.
“Just a walk around the neighborhood, nothing grand.”
“Okay,” I say. At this point, anything is better than just sitting in this church all night listening to stuff I don’t care about.
We hear a sound behind us and notice one of the youth leaders checking over the recreation space. She grabs my hand, and we ducked behind the back partition that separates the congregational/ rec space from the youth back rooms. It is darker here and hides us from the youth leader. She holds a long, slender finger to her pouty lips, and I can’t help but look at them, wondering what it would be like to just kiss her. “Shhh, in here,” she whispers. “They won't look for us in here.” She looks up at me, and her doe shaped eyes, brown and inviting, lock on mine. Her hand is still in mine, and I squeeze it. She squeezes back. Her gaze runs over me from my head to my toes, all six foot four of my lanky body. She is a good foot shorter. I look at her lips again.
She rolls her eyes like she is frustrated or something at me. Groaning as quietly as she can, she smacks my arm.
“Ow, what the fuck was that for.”
“Shh, you oaf.”
“I will not shh you just punched me in my arm.”
“I didn’t punch you. That was merely a love tap.”
“You call that a love tap?” I rub my arm. The girl has a left hook like you wouldn’t believe.
“Don’t be a baby.”
“Why did you hit me?”
“Why don’t you just kiss me already and stop looking at my lips?”
“What?”
“Don’t play coy. I see you, see me, see you, looking at my lips.”
I laugh. “You are crazy, girl.”
“You are loud, boy.”
She looks around to make sure the coast is clear before she stands on her tiptoes and kisses the corner of my mouth. She smells like what girls are made of, cinnamon, spice and everything nice. Like one of the apple pies that Miss Claire makes for Sunday after church dinners. Before she even tries to step away, I put my hand to the small of her back and turn my face into that kiss. I swallow her gasp and plunge my tongue in, deepening what she started. You want to go there, girl, then let’s go. I think she is going to back away, but nope, she meets my tongue lick for lick. Oh, she is a feisty one, and I like it. I drop my hands to her ass and squeeze all that round, plump firmness. It all deserves my attention.
She breaks the kiss, gasping as I continue to grope and explore, and she lets me, right here in the church of all places.
“Phoenix,” she moans, but I don’t stop. I find the pulse at her neck and kiss it, suck it, knead it with my tongue as it quickens. She is grinding against me and my erection. “You are insatiable, horn ball,” she says, pushing at my shoulders. I lean back, my arms still around her.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. My breath is short, and I find I'm panting.
