"What are you still doing here?"
It was a hot afternoon, and some folks from the parish had just finished helping me pack my belongings for the move. I'd been their pastor for several years, but it was time to move on. Julia was a chubby girl in her mid 20's, and for some reason hadn't left with everyone else. She was active in the youth group since I got there eight years ago, but was a disappointment as we tried to make her a leader after her graduation. Well intentioned, definitely, but still acted like a High School kid and had very little responsibility for fulfilling her commitments. After she backed out of yet another youth group meeting at the last minute without a good excuse, she was relieved of her duties.
She'd come to help me pack and did a fair job of helping everyone. I really didn't expect her, there were several other folks I saw much more often who came back to help, but she was there in a t-shirt, shorts and flip flops. She'd also taken a two hour lunch break without warning. No matter to me anymore, I was going and she wasn't. I don't know what she planned to do with the rest of her life, she still lived with her parents, was going to a local juco, but really didn't articulate much of a plan going forward. A tall girl of almost six feet, she had only a couple of attractive qualities: her light blue eyes were stuff dreams were made of, and her fat tits hung far enough over her belly to be mouth watering. On the rare occasions she dressed up, she looked wonderful.
Everyone else was gone, my stuff was loaded and I only had enough clothes for the evening and tomorrow. Yet there she stood in the middle of my living room, framed by the patio door overlooking the church in the distance. "What are you still doing here?" I asked again.
"I dunno. We done?"
"Yes, I think so. Unless there's something else. . ."
She looked a bit confused, then looked at a corner of the ceiling. "Well, I think so."
I waited and after a moment prompted her. "Do tell."
Another pause, and she said: "I think you've been looking at my tits."
I shook my head. Where was this going? "Yes, among other things. I really think your eyes are spectacular, but that's neither here nor there. It doesn't matter what physical qualities I like or dislike. I'm leaving town tomorrow, and that's the end of our relationship as it stands now. And I'm sure I'm not the kind of guy you dream about."
This had to be true, because I'm in my late 50s and am a bit overweight. Grey hair has started to creep into my head and beard, and I've used absolutely no charm on anyone since I was ordained 12 years ago. I haven't even fantasized about a woman under 40 for years, my life would be complete if Rachel Hunter became my housekeeper. And Julia had said once the prospect of making out with an older man was creepy.
"Well, probably. An older man isn't what I normally fantasize about. NORMALLY."
What the hell did this mean? "I don't understand, Julia. We're done with the job and you're free to go. What's the hold up?"
Her lower lip started to quiver, and it was time to let up a little. I raised my hands in a question, and she sighed. "I don't know what to do."
"About what?"
"I want to, but I don't want to. I want to let you touch me, but then again. . ."
I shook my head, and sat down on the couch. "So I guess we play 20 questions. You have a fantasy about me, right?" She nodded her head eagerly, though still looking away. "What kind of fantasy are we talking about? Do you want to see a movie?" A definite shake no. "Do you want me to hold your hand or kiss you?" Another firm negative. "Do you want me to touch you?'
"Yes." Her voice was timid and almost inaudible.
"Willingly?'
"No."
Well, that changed things a little. "You don't seem to want to look at me. Should we wait for nightfall?"
"No, no. I gotta get home."
"And I need to rest up my last night in town before the move. Have a lot of unpacking to do tomorrow night at my destination. So you want to play some stupid game where I touch you, but where you're not entirely free and you don't want to look at what's going on. You're strange, Julia. How about a blindfold?"
"Yes." Holy cow, that was strange. All right, I had some handkerchiefs that weren't packed and a score of tea towels and bath towels that weren't making the trip. I took a look out my front door and didn't see any strange cars in sight, and Julia was parked at the church a quarter mile across the pasture. The only car parked parked by the church was hers, and she spent enough time there it wouldn't arouse suspicion. "You want me to blindfold you and maybe do some other stuff?"
"Yeah. I want you to do that." She trembled a little, but still avoided my eyes.
"Look me in the eyes," I commanded. She did so: they were a sea of longing and confusion. They were lovely enough to melt my heart if I let them. "I will ask you to do several things. You may say yes or no to any of them. When you say no, you may suggest something else in its place. Anytime you can tell me you want to stop and it's over, same for me. Good?"
"Good," she said, looking straight at me.
"No games. Say yes when you mean yes and no when you mean no. You all right with that?"
"Yes."
I went to the bedroom I was using and brought out a red handkerchief, which I folded into a strip and tied around her eyes. When it was in place, she relaxed noticeably. Going into the kitchen, I brought out a wooden chair and put it behind her. She started to sit, but I pushed her up. "Do you want me to touch you?"