THE NASTY PREACHER (Part XIII) "Confession is Good . . . ."

He heard himself telling the whole story to someone who was barely more than an acquaintance.  He couldn't believe he had

There was nobody else in the lunch room
just then when Bob sat down to
spill his guts . . . .

done this once, but he had!  It was all too true . . . .

"I could use a beer along about now," Bob muttered under his breath, almost forgetting where he was.
Bud looked at the clock on the wall.  "We got to go back to work in fifteen minutes.  I'll get coffee." He suited actions to words, and sat down again with two full, black cups.
"Thanks, Bud."  Bob took a sip, then began.  It had seemed so long ago, but it really wasn't.  "About four years ago, the church I was at lost its secretary.  She retired early to go move to where her daughter was -- over in Scottsdale, or somewhere.  So the staff parish committee had to hire a new secretary.  They received a bunch of applications, narrowed it down to 3 or 4 candidates, then began interviewing each one.  I was in on the interviews, and any of the candidates probably could have worked out.

But for some reason the committee settled on this one pretty, blonde woman, named Angela Baker.  She was about 20 years younger than me -- a divorcee with two children and a nice
personality.  She had adequate experience in reception and book-keeping work.

I had tried to get the committee to go with the candidate I'll call "B".  (Angela was everybody

There were several capable secretarial
candidates.  But the committee seemed
bent on hiring the prettiest one!

else's "A" candidate.)  "B" was also capable and somewhat more experienced.  Plus she was older than Angela, and not very attractive.  At least not to me.  I actually told the committee I preferred Ms. B. because she was not as pretty.  I intimated that Angela, the one they all seemed to want, would be more of a distraction to me at work, and that I thought they would do just as well with someone less attractive and outgoing."
"You told them that?!" asked Bud, incredulously.
"I did.  I think it was the first time the others on this committee had any idea that I could at times be a real lustful bastard."
"Sounds to me like you were just normal."
"Maybe, Bud.  But in a church you have to be more than 'normal'.  You have to be an exemplary model of moral behavior.  It's called 'holiness'."
"And you weren't holy enough," Bud quipped, taking another sip, stifling a grin, and finding one last cookie in his lunch box.

"Oh, well, maybe I never really was.  But at least I had kept my manhood inside my pants -- except when I was with my wife."
Bud grinned in spite of himself.  "My, my, this is getting good.  And I don't just mean the cookie."
"You laugh now, my friend, but the whole damned thing was no laughing matter.  To make a long story short, the committee overrode my objections and hired Angela."
"At first I avoided talking to her that much, but of course I couldn't keep that up.  We had work

I made a pitch for hiring
the less pretty one.  I didn't
convince the other men on the
committee.  Damn!

to do every day, and most of it I couldn't do without her help.  So I had to talk to her.  And to do that I had to look at her."
"There's intercoms," added Bud.

"Yeah, and I had one.  But there was a lot Angela didn't know.  She'd never worked in a church before, so I had to tell her a lot of things to her face.  Plus, she wasn't all that familiar with the office computer set-up, so I had to help her with that.
"A real 'hands-on' situation," said Bud with a smirk.

"You laugh now.  But it was that, and it got to be even more so -- in some not so healthy ways."  He paused and sipped his own cup.
"I liked Angela.  I couldn't help it.  She was pretty and sweet.  I got started doing things for her.  She did things for me.  She had a naturally nice, attractive disposition; but she was also a weak person, morally speaking.  I learned that just from some conversations I'd had.  I should have seen those as sufficient warning signs.  But you already know I didn't."
Bud nodded, and dunked the last of his cookie in what remained of his coffee.

"And," Bob continued, "she knew my wife, and liked Betty a lot.  But that knowledge didn't keep her from being friendly to me; and then, overly friendly.
One day, when I was feeling a little more 'randy' than usual, I stayed later than I normally did, and so did she.  I needed her help hanging up some posters in a Sunday School class.  When I

We started out with some
nice smooching.  Then, I suddenly couldn't
keep my hands off of her!

was done, I found her standing close to me in that gloomy, upstairs class room.  I knew I should never have let myself get into that kind of situation, but instead I cast caution and precautions to the wind, and there we were 
"I remember she wore this cute, blue and white polka-dot dress that was cut kind of short.  I took her in my arms, thanked her for her help, and kissed her.  And she kissed me back.
Before I knew what had happened, we did it again.  Then I broke it off, and she pushed me away, but we were both breathing really hard.
"I get what you mean," added Bud.  "And then what?"

"And then, nothing much.  For awhile, anyway.  We had seen how vulnerable we were around each other, so we played it safe for a few weeks; at least we tried to.  But one day, when she looked so irresistibly good, I invited her into my office after I was sure the janitor had gone home.  We kissed and hugged each other again.  This time a lot longer.  It felt good."
"And you kept this from your wife -- how?" asked Bud.
"I was real careful, and so was Angela -- at first anyhow.  I would always wash my face after our necking sessions, in order to get her perfume off my skin.  She quickly changed her habits

I knew it wasn't love.  But I
couldn't stop myself!  Not if
I thought I could get
away with it.

and didn't wear so much perfume, so there wouldn't be any foreign aroma around me.  She also wore no lipstick, or cleaned it off, before we started sucking on each others' lips."
"She sounds like a good kisser," snorted Bud.

"She was a great kisser!  But one day, we both decided we needed a little more than just a few good smacks.  Angie had arranged to have her parents pick up the kids from school on a day, when I knew Betty wouldn't be home for awhile.  I went over to Angie's house -- entering the back door, through the alley.  She showed me into her bedroom.  We both got out of our clothes quickly, and joined our bodies.  She let me shower with her afterwards, then I dressed and got home as quickly as I could -- and I got there before Betty did, changed into my lawn-work clothes, and was outside pulling weeds when she got home."
"Sneaky bastard!  You're lucky you didn't get the lady pregnant."
"Well, I used a condom, but I was still taking a really big chance."
"So basically you fucked your church secretary."
"Yes, I did."
"More than once?"
"Oh, yeah," said Bob sadly, draining the last of his coffee.  "I don't even remember exactly how many times.  We even arranged to do it sometimes in an isolated room in the old classroom wing."
Bud whistled low.  "A wing, a prayer, and --," he chuckled.
"I know.  It sounds funny now.  It was d-damned serious then."
"Well," said Bud, "obviously it didn't go on forever."
Bob took a deep breath.  "Obviously not.  We got caught."
"I figured that.  How?"
My wife suspected something.  You can't hide that kind of cheating from a wife -- any wife."
"I've always believed that too," nodded Bud.
"I'm honestly not exactly sure about who blew the whistle on us," said Bob, scratching his head.  "I'm pretty sure Angela had a friend or two who knew what we were doing.  I think one of

I'm pretty sure she had some girl friends who
spilled the beans and let the *&^%$#
cat out of the bag.

them called some church members.  They confronted me.  At first I denied it."  He looked straight at Bud.  "But I'm not the kind of guy who was born with a poker face and a steel-cold heart.  I couldn't hide it.  When some church leaders pressed me on it, I confessed.  They said if I quit they'd let me off easy.  I did, and they did."
"And that was that," added Bud.
"Not quite.  There was Betty."
"Oh, yeah.  Betty.  I guess she was ready to kill ya."
"She was terribly hurt.  I never seen or imagined a woman could be so hurt as when she found out the man she loved and was married to was cheating on her."
"And this went on how long?"
"Nearly two years.  I'm sure she knew long before I got in trouble at the church.  But you know what a good wife sometimes does:  she denies it, tries to pretend it ain't happening, or maybe hopes the bad dream will just go away."
"Only it didn't."
"Not for a long while.  We had to go through some counseling to get things back together again.  My children still think I'm a first class dick-head for what I did to her.  But at least we stayed together.  And I have hopes of winning my kids back some day.  They'll at least speak to me now."

Lunch was over.  So was my story.
I didn't feel any better.  It sort of brought
to the surface all over again what a
bastard I had been . . . .

Bud nodded, looking off into the distance, as if he was looking straight at his own family situation.  "You be good to them, they'll all be back.  You're their dad.  They can't forget that."
"I hope you're right.  What I know for sure is, I can't hear those words enough."
Bud looked down.  He wanted to light the rest of his cigar, but instead he looked at the clock on the wall. 
"Lunch break's over," said Bob, reading his mind.
"That's quite a story," said Bud.
"A true one.  Only I wish it wasn't."
"But you're back to bein' a preacher again, right?  So that's good, I guess."
"Yeah," said Bob.  "It's good."
"Well," said Bud, closing his lunch box and rising to his feet.  "Maybe it'll stay good."

LBC