After Miriam converted, almost out of the blue, to a fringe fundamentalist Judeo-Christian religious sect shortly after turning 30, all her friends thought she'd lost her mind, but
she
knew she'd made the right decision.
For the first time in her life, she felt like she didn't have to worry about which behaviors were "right" or "wrong"; finally she could just have someone
else
decide all that crap for her.
True, a lot of the rules she now had to adopt were pretty weird and strict: all sorts of strange dietary guidelines, a lengthy list of tasks she wasn't supposed to perform on Sundays, certain words she suddenly had to excise from her vocabulary, and
definitely
no sexual activity outside of marriage.
Perhaps the oddest rule of all, if a relatively easy one to follow, was that she not allowed to wear any clothing in public that displayed either her elbows or her knees. Long-sleeve shirts only. Skirts and dresses, but no pants -- pants were a
big
no-no. Even the slightest
hint
of cleavage was out of the question.
Her friends and family shook their heads as Miriam tried to explain all the things she could "no longer do," teasingly asking her what century it was, and wondering precisely when she would snap out of this "phase," but they quickly realized that she was in it for the long haul; no amount of reasoned discussion was going to make her give it up and go back to her former, more contemporary ways.
Funny thing was, she'd been quite the little sex fiend in college. Handjobs, blowjobs, tittyfucks, anal -- she excelled in all areas of the curriculum. Then suddenly, the woman hits her thirties and BAM. No sex till marriage. Not even masturbation. Doesn't it always seem to be the girls with the most intense libidos who randomly undergo some extreme, internal wave of shame and regret and do a complete 180 in the opposite direction?
Well, if abstinence was what God wanted, then abstinence was what she was going to give him. But as the months rolled on and on, and every prospective husband she met at her religious services was overweight and out-of-shape, bit by bit, inch by inch, Miriam was kinda, sorta... starting to lose it.
She would lie in bed and munch on her fingernails while the most depraved fantasies would roam around in her head -- but nope! According to the sect, she needed to save all that shit up for her very special and equally rule-abiding husband.
Still, she'd been good. There
was
that one night she'd leaned against the washing machine, but that wasn't, like, an orgasm, you know? Not really. That was just a little spasm she'd had leaning against the washing machine. Didn't count. She hadn't broken any rules.
*****
The first time Max saw Miriam, he hardly noticed her -- she might as well have been somebody's grandmother.
It was one of those evenings where his old friends from college, Heidi and Eric, had invited him over to their apartment for a movie night, and she was sitting on the corner of their living room floor, wearing a long-sleeve denim button-up shirt, and a floor-length blue and yellow flower-print skirt. Not
unattractive
, exactly, but not obvious fapping material. There was actually another girl there, Alexandra, whom he'd never met before either, and
she
was initially the one who caught his eye, in a snug pink t-shirt and white jeans.
Heidi gave some quick introductions. "Max, this is Alexandra."
"Hi."
"And this is Miriam."
"Hello."
The entire evening passed by without them saying even one more word to each other.
*****
For the longest time, Heidi and Eric, who'd recently gotten engaged, had been trying to hook up their college buddy Max with a suitable partner, but it was proving to be like threading the proverbial needle. Sure, he was cute, witty, and smart -- short, wavy black hair, brown eyes, quirky grin, bookish glasses, preppie fashion sense, skinny physique -- but a lot of girls just didn't seem to "get" him.
Compared to the typical 25-year-old male, he was so picky, so cautious. All his friends were ready to fuck anything that moved, but he cared about stupid shit like "trust" and "shared interests" and all that garbage. Ah, well. It didn't stop them from inviting him over to their apartment or to other various group outings now and then to see if he'd strike up a freak connection or two.
For instance, a couple of weeks after the movie night, they invited Max out, along with six or seven others in their circle, to karaoke. About twenty minutes in, he recognized Miriam, this time wearing a black long-sleeve crew-neck shirt and a lengthy, pleated khaki skirt.
"
What is up with this Miriam chick?
" he wondered to himself. "
She looks like a Victorian-era school teacher, or a Quaker nanny.
" But to his slight bewilderment, somewhere in the back of his mind, Max made a note to himself that she was... actually kind of... pretty?
Heidi tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the touchscreen on the wall behind them.
"Hey, you should do a song."
She knew that A) he liked to sing, and that B) he liked to pretend that he didn't.
"I dunno, Heidi."
"Who cares? You don't even know anyone here. Just one song and I'll quit bugging you."
"Fine."
He looked the list over, and let out a quick chuckle.
"How about 'Let's Get It On'?"
"Seriously? You'd do it?"
Max had suggested it mostly as a joke (the joke being that describing himself as a virgin would have hardly even captured the full scope of his sexual inexperience), but once Heidi shared the suggestion with Eric, they immediately dared him to go through with it.
Sure enough, a few songs later, it was Max's turn, and he got up there and unleashed his inner Marvin Gaye. Somewhere right around the midway point, he impulsively, and somewhat satirically, took off his light blue t-shirt and twirled it over his head, eliciting hoots and hollers from Eric, Heidi, several other drunken strangers littered throughout the place, and, surprisingly, the mysterious Miriam, who clapped her hands together with glee.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Max sat down and took a breather.
"Here you go, Max." Heidi shoved an order of sweet potato fries in front of his exhausted face.
"What's this?"
"Compliments of Miriam. Looks like she really enjoyed your performance."
Max glanced over at Heidi's unusually-attired friend, sitting at the other end of the table, and briefly caught her eye as she waved her palm flirtatiously.
*****
"Your turn guys."
About a month or so later, it was game night at Heidi and Eric's. They pulled out a long-untouched and now comically dated Trivial Pursuit box, and Max and Miriam ended up playing on the same team, although Miriam didn't seem to be quite as into it as he was, wandering in and out of the room, gladly letting most of the other team members do the heavy lifting.
To his surprise and befuddlement, Max sensed a little crush brewing. Her short, curly brown hair gave the rest of her face -- with its high cheek bones and slightly pointy nose -- an intelligent, confident, worldly quality. The top of her upper lip clung more closely to the bottom of her nose than usual, slightly exposing her upper teeth even when her mouth was "closed," a little trait that, for whatever reason, he found inscrutably hot. She sort of bore a bit of a resemblance to, of all people, '90s supermodel Eva Herzigova?
Oh, and another thing: as he spent more and more time around her, Max began to realize that Miriam possessed the most wonderful pair of breasts he'd ever seen. Not grotesquely large like, say, a member of the cast of
Baywatch
, but out of all the girls he had crushes on, Miriam's breasts were easily the largest -- an amusing irony, considering that, of all the girls he had crushes on, she was by far the one who appeared to be the most reluctant to capitalize on this fortuitous biological gift.
"All right, it's time to let the
other
teams catch up a little bit," he boasted half-arrogantly as he got up to grab a quick drink in the kitchen. He found Miriam standing near the counter, chatting with another player who was also taking a break from the game.
She turned to Max and smiled. "Representing our team well, I hope?"
Before he could respond, she reached out and placed her hand directly on the right side of his belly, and held it there for longer than he'd expected. Just a tiny flirtatious gesture, but he instantly felt a wave of... warmth? Comfort? Encouragement, trust, desire?
A plethora of pleasant sensations were emanating from her palm. That one simple touch from Miriam suggested that she knew things about him that he didn't even know about himself. Hot
damn
. He'd heard people talk about "chemistry," but whatever the hell "chemistry" was, this was it.
And yet, something wasn't quite...
*****
He tried to find the proper moment to ask Heidi and Eric for a little more info on his bizarre object of affection. Fortunately, a couple of weeks later, they invited Max to a spur-of-the-moment excursion at the art museum, and while the three of them were grabbing lunch in the courtyard, he took his shot.
"So uh... how do you know Miriam?"
"Oh, you know, we worked together at the law firm, when I was an intern," Heidi explained. "And then we did a book club together, but... I haven't seen her around too much lately, she's always got a lot of things going on."
"She converted to this super strict religion," Eric added. "Apparently she doesn't do certain stuff on Sundays, she won't eat this or that... I don't think she's allowed to wear clothes that display her elbows, or her knees."
"Yeah. I thought she seemed to dress kind of oddly."
"It's a little whack, but... hey, judge not lest ye be judged yourself." Eric chuckled.
"I know, it's kinda weird," Heidi agreed. "But otherwise, she's really awesome, really fun to hang out with. It's her life, you know? She loved your karaoke performance."
"Uh huh."
"I think she's trying to find a husband, you know, someone who's also a member of her sect, but she's having, shall we say... a hard time."
