Follow on from story Rex Erection.
When I studied in the seminary, I played around developing apps mostly related to the Bible. I created and marketed about ten of them. One of the apps sold bigtime. Based on its success, two more broke through on its coattails. Just before I graduated, I had an offer from a company that specialized in that sort of software. The deal left me with a generous endowment. I was modestly, but independently, wealthy.
After ordination, I went to assist at a parish in Ohio. The minister was a total misery. Our Church had this tenet that banned sexual relations once you had enough children or if you could not have children. That was tough for most people. Many didn't follow that to the letter of canon law. But this guy, if he had his way, would just about ban sex. He didn't like me nor I him. I completed the first year and concluded this was too much for me. I contemplated taking a year off to get my head straight. I was ineligible to move to another assignment because I didn't put in enough time at the first parish.
I was traveling about enjoying the summer weather. My grandparents had lived just outside the northern suburbs of Detroit. I always loved that area and used to spend long spells with them during the summer vacations. They had both passed on. Two cars now occupied the driveway: a family with two or more kids judging by the yard. I drove further north beyond the suburbs. On the outskirts of a village, I came across a big 'For Sale' sign. It was a good-sized building on a large, paved plot of land. In the rear was a lovely garden. The facade had a dignified entrance door that seemed to open into a windowed office on each side. I drove around the back. The rear of the structure had a wide garage door and a couple of side doors. It must have been some kind of small factory.
I phoned the number on the 'For Sale' sign and got some details from the agent. It had been a plant that imported spices from around the world, processed and dehydrated them, then bottled and packaged them. The cost of the property seemed remarkably low. The property had been on the market for a couple of years. I got the key to check out the property and entered via an impressive front door. The foyer had windowed offices on each side. Ahead lay double doors that opened onto a large interior space.
Windows ran along both sidewalls allowing in lots of light. I figured it would hold about two hundred people. Behind the rear wall were a storage and loading area with a well-equipped kitchen and a large bathroom. A large roll-up garage door and external doors, one on each side of this backspace, gave outside access.
I could see this had the potential to be a small church. The fact that it was out in a sparsely populated rural area didn't matter. Our sect was never a neighborhood-based church. As a niche sect, our congregants usually drove for miles to assemble. And there was plenty of parking. It would be quite a job to renovate and refurbish. Having worked with my grandfather, a master builder, for at least ten summers, I could manage this myself. For me, this would not be exhausting toil; instead, a challenging labor of love. I'm a hobbyist; this would be my project. It would cost a fair bit. Maybe the Church would pay for some of this?
*****
I solicited the church treasury for funds. They would not participate in a project led by a 'newly ordained kid with little experience'. So, I would have to go it alone. They would be more than willing to accept the 10% tithe if I could establish this new parish, but since they would not contribute to the start-up, I got that down to 8%.
There were approximately fifty families of our sect within my region and maybe another forty for whom my location was more convenient. Perhaps others were not totally happy in their assigned parish. That was good enough for me. With a lot of help from future parishioner volunteers, I spent the rest of the year getting everything fitted out and ready to go. I converted the rear area into my personal living quarters. The front offices became the Parish Center and a conference room.
One part of the backspace was a shower area with four cubicles. The workers had used it to scrub off varieties of spices that were pungent or left them sneezing. I removed the partitions and did it up as a fancy spa. I left the two outer showerheads in place and replaced the center two with one long rainforest head. Instead of shower curtains, I put in a long glass wall with a sliding door at one end.
Not perfect but adequate. I would happily work on more improvements over the years as both a hobby and a necessity.
*****
I had been in operation for a couple of years, and things were going well. One summer day, I was in the parish office near the foyer of my Church, striving to catch up on a backlog of paperwork. The window blinds were closed to keep the sun's fierce heat from transforming the room into a furnace. I heard a rapping on the window and went to unlock the front door. Outside the glass door stood a tall young bronze-skinned woman with a self-assured air about her. She smiled and gave a little wave. Opening the door, I welcomed her in. Despite the heat, she looked composed in a loose onyx-black tee-shirt and short wide hemmed skirt.
A single copper earring and a delicate flowery tattoo faded into the tanned skin of her upper arm lent an air of elegance.
"Come on in away from that torrid heat." I greeted her. "There is no doorbell. I haven't got around to it yet. This is the office." I ushered her in.
"I'm the only one working here for the moment. No office secretary, no cleaner! Here, take a pew, as we say in the business," trying to be light-hearted.
She sat, crossing her long, athletic legs.
"I don't recognize you. Are you one of my parishioners?" I queried.
"No. My name is Chloe. I wanted to talk with you if that's OK."
"Sure. First, tell me about yourself and then what is on your mind, Chloe," I inquired, attempting to break the ice.
"Well, I'm a third-year student of political science. A bit of an activist in my spare time. Particularly women's issues and most left-wing causes. I plan to do something in politics though I'm not sure what yet." she said.
"I'm in a relationship with Sydney, my boyfriend. He's an artist and quite a bit older than me. Not sure how long term that is yet, but we'll see."
She hesitated.
"I'll jump right in because it seems a bit of a strange request." Her rosy cheeks flushed a little.
"I have a pathological fear of breast cancer." She whispered.
This remark caused me to gaze at her well-shaped tits, which I had been trying not to do. Now I had an invitation to focus on them. They appeared to be spectacular!
"I must say, Chloe, they do look quite healthy!" I ventured.
Tossing her long, highlighted auburn hair back off her face, Chloe muttered, "Thank you. But, this is more of a psychological thing, I think." The comment forced her thin lips into a smile.
"So, how can I counsel you, Chloe?" I queried. "Is it an anxiety problem? Have you discussed this with your doctor or with Sydney?"
My doctor has examined me and had some tests done but can find nothing wrong. Sydney is a total jerk. Not at all empathetic!"
"I mean, it may be more psychical rather than physical." she ventured.
"Is that why you came to see me?" I asked.
Her dark grey eyes weighed me up.
"Exactly. I need some unconventional advice, Reverend."
"I do have a lot of specialized information here," I said, getting up and walking over to my tall, double-door cabinet. "I have information here on just about anything. Health care, mental care, addiction, and so on." I rummaged around. "I don't really know anything about breast cancer, per se. But I have some literature that might help, maybe even a video." I suggested while compiling a few brochures.
"Here we are! I've found a couple of bulletins on breast cancer prevention."
As I turned around, I was dumbstruck and rendered speechless. Chloe was sitting on my desk. She had cast off her black sweater and sat stark naked from the waist up. Her bare, well-proportioned tits were gorgeous. Enchantingly symmetrical. Her pink-hued areolae encircled tiny tense nipples. I dropped the brochures.
"Chloe, what are you doing?" I gasped. "This is not the place. Put your shirt back on immediately!"
I could not take my eyes off her glorious globes.
"This is not about sex, Reverend. I have a cooperative boyfriend for that," she said, "This is a serious quest for liberation, riddance from a bewitching obsession. I need help!"
"I've been agonizing about breast cancer," she continued. "I've had mammograms and tests. I frequently check for lumps. It's just a powerful intuition I have."
"I need you to make an effort. Please examine my breasts." She brought my hands up and placed one on each boob.
"I've seen medical specialists, Reverend. That's not what I need. I require someone with potent superpowers."
