"Red Ribbons and Scripture, a Romance is a story of a widow of unfailing Christian faith who discovers her submissive sexuality with an honest and blunt man who questions his faith in God until he met her.
Red Ribbons and Scripture
By Beagle9690
September 2021
A brief history; I grew up an Army brat, moving from place to place, and often lived in crappy government housing or cramped apartments. Moving from place to place was hard for making friends. I did excel in school, though. When I graduated high school, I left to be on my own clear across the country to the East Coast with a full scholarship.
I was an emancipated seventeen, soon to be eighteen in two days, attending college as an English Major and working part-time as a waitress in an upscale three-star restaurant to have spending money. I adored my adopted community, seasons change, and the proximity to Lake Ontario, Lake Erie, the Finger Lakes, and Niagara Falls. And I planned to live here after I graduated and put down roots.
I married a man who was fifteen years my senior. I met him at the Albright Knox Art Museum during the Picasso Exhibit. I always found young men my age to be shallow or immature. John was worldly and sophisticated, a Professor of Literature at a prestigious private university, not the State School University I attended.
After we married, John oversaw our finances. I was comfortable with this arrangement because I had a generous monthly allowance, and I drove a new leased luxury sedan every three years.
I enjoyed being the hostess, entertaining at our home with my friends from church or his colleges and their wives. I had financial stability and a house of my own, and that is important. My house and marriage were my earthly sanctuaries.
Life was good, so I volunteered to divide my time for charity and help at my Church. Eventually, I was a Board Member of a respected charitable organization working closely with a Children's Cancer Hospital-make a wish foundation.
John was an avid golfer and not good at it. He didn't walk the course but instead drove around in a golf cart. Eventually, he watched golf tournaments on television at his private Country club with his buddies over drinks as he got closer to retiring.
I saw less and less of him, as they say-no marriage is perfect.
I was a virgin when I married. Our sex life was tepid at best on the first night and never got better, but I had nothing to compare then. No oral sex, it disgusted him; giving or receiving--no imaginative foreplay-before, or cuddling after.
In our last five years, sexual intimacy was barely existent, if you could call it that.
We attended Church together and church functions; he went through the motions, tolerating it for appearance's sake, and we slept in separate bedrooms.
As a staunch Christian woman embracing marriage as a sacrament, I had no option other than to pleasure myself in a hot bath with scented candles or relaxing in my bed under luxurious hi-thread count linen sheets with my sexual fantasies and imaginary lovers.
Sadly, my husband, John, died soon after he retired. However, throughout our marriage, he assured me of my financial security should he pass first.
I discovered during probate my husband, John, lied. He forged my signature to allow him to receive his full retirement; instead of taking less, seventy-five percent for his pension to go to me after he died. He had a secret Post Office Box. He took out a second mortgage, again forging my signature. I also discovered our once substantial stock portfolios and mutual funds were depleted and minimal. At some point, John decided he was more intelligent than our fiduciary, fired him, and then made reckless financial decisions.
At first, I couldn't believe what was happening to me and how he lied and betrayed me. I was devastated when my home went up for public auction due to unpaid taxes that I couldn't afford to pay. I was ashamed and scandalized and resigned in shame from the board of directors.
I cried on and off for weeks; I prayed, and then I was numb as reality set in. I was able to get a waitress job and liquidated my remaining mutual funds/stocks. I took most of my jewelry to Mr. Goldberg to sell on consignment in his small jewelry store, including my diamond engagement and wedding band. I had no use for the ornate jewelry box, and I brought that there too.
The next day, shortly before my shift began at the restaurant, and when I went to put it on, I realized I made a terrible mistake; I was sure I left it on my dresser. Only God knows how it got in my jewelry box; it was a gift from my mother and father, and the rest of those expensive gold and diamond bobbles and bling my husband bought meant nothing to me. I didn't want to upset her, and she was getting forgetful, the poor dear, so I never told my mother it was gone.
When I telephoned Mr. Goldberg, it was too late; his clerk sold it immediately for cash. He felt terrible and, after, refused to take the fifteen percent consignment after everything sold. Perhaps the loss was part of God's divine plan for me; I said a short prayer for its return and then tackled my next problem.
I had the name and address of the man who purchased my home for taxes and satisfied the lien from the bank. So I made an appointment to meet with him several months after the tax auction with a looming deadline.
I spent a week mentally preparing for the meeting. I hoped Mr. Cain would allow me more time to stay there. I hoped he would possibly let me rent it from him. Again, I prayed for a miracle.
I hoped to persuade Mr. Cain and leave a good impression, and I succeeded. It was hot that day with high humidity, so I put my hair up in a simple, classic bun, pretty but modest. I wore my red floral print summer dress with short ruffle sleeves. It was a cross v-neck- button front with a high waistband and a low ruffle hemline well below my knees.
