Marcie tied the sleeves of her sweatshirt around her waist and wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand. The front of her pink halter top was marked with a narrow stain of perspiration that ran down between her breasts. Her hard nipples stuck through the thin fabric.
She smiled. Sure, Dean told her she was supposed to wear a bra, but she hated them. Besides, she liked the feel of the fabric rubbing her nipples and the way they stuck out, and how her boobs jiggled without the tight bra. All the guys stopped to look at her, even older men like Dad’s friend Mr. Minver.
She pushed off on her in-line skates, zipping down the sidewalk. Her sweatshirt bounced against her butt and the backs of her legs. Maybe she could get him to love her. She noticed lately how the front of his pants swelled when he was around her. He wasn’t fat, but his waist was a bit round and stuck out over his belt. How would it feel to hold him between her legs?
She turned a corner, brushing her arm on a big bush, and passed a couple walking a dog. They were about as old as her parents. The man’s eyes dropped to her chest and his eyebrows arched. Marcie was smiling when she went past.
Ahead on the right was the church. She was a long way from home. She slowed and let her skates glide over the cracks in the sidewalk. Did she mean to come that far? Was she hoping for a chance to see Dean again, maybe to convince him he was wrong about her? At the parking lot entrance she skated up toward the church.
In the parking lot was a collection of cars. None was Dean’s black convertible. She skated twice around the entire lot to make sure. But one car in particular she did notice, Pastor Oliver’s little red Honda. She stopped beside it and peeked in, then looked back at the church.
She skated to the side doors, but they were locked. She knocked and waited. No one came to let her in. It was just as well; they probably wouldn’t let her in with skates on.
She skated around the building to the back of the gym. Those doors were locked, too. From the basement windows beneath the gym she saw some lights. She crouched on her hands and knees and peeked in the low window.
Pastor Oliver was there, in the boxing ring with another guy, a younger skinny guy with a padded mask on his head. Marcie swallowed hard. Pastor Oliver’s chest was bare and he was covered with sweat. She had no idea he had such a lean, hard body. She felt a faint twitch between her legs.
The door to the basement was down a set of cement stairs on the other side of the building. She went down carefully, take each step sideways, one at a time. She turned the knob slowly and it opened. She slipped in and let it shut.
In the ring, Pastor Oliver was giving the younger guy instructions, and he just nodded back. They moved with their shoulders hunched and their gloved hands up, like it was an odd dance, then they threw punches at each other. Marcie gasped. Her eyes were wide. She sat on a bench to watch.
Certainly, they were just practicing, but the violence of the fighting shocked her. Oliver stopped frequently to show the skinny guy how to stand or how to hold his hands. When they got back to hitting each other, though, her stomach jumped and her insides tingled. It was only a few minutes longer before they finished, but Marcie felt warm all over.
They stepped out of the ring through the ropes. The skinny guy removed his padded mask before he disappeared through the doorway at the other end of the basement, but she didn’t see his face. Oliver was pulling at the ties on his gloves with his teeth when he saw her.
“Hi Marcie. I didn’t notice you. How long have you been there?” he said and walked toward her.
Suddenly Marcie couldn’t breathe. Something about Pastor Oliver was different. He was irresistible, even sexy.
“Only a few minutes,” she said with a deep breath.
She reached for his glove. Oliver hesitated a second and held out his arm. Marcie untied the laces slowly. Her fingers were shaking.
“What brings you to the church on such a beautiful day Marcie?” he said.
She shrugged. Her eyes were turned down, concentrating on the laces.
“Just bored I guess. I thought I might find someone here to talk to.”
She tugged the glove from his hand and held it against her belly. Oliver quickly removed the other glove, picked up a towel and wiped his face.
“I’d be happy to talk. Anything in particular you want to talk about?”
He put on a t-shirt. Instantly, it was soaked with sweat.
“Nothing in particular.”
“All right. Why don’t you sit down and we’ll talk. Do you want to take your skates off?” he said, pointing at her feet.
Marcie sat on the bench and kicked her legs out. Her skates clicked together like she was making a wish to go home. Oliver sat beside her.
“I think I’m in trouble, Pastor Oliver,” she said, staring at her skates.
“What kind of trouble?”
She raised the bottom of her shirt and rubbed her hand over the gentle bulge. Her rounded belly stuck out just a bit and stretched the waistband of her shorts.
“I think I might be pregnant.”
“Pregnant? Dear God Marcie, you’re just a child. How old are you now?”
“Eighteen.”
He touched her shoulder and she looked up into his eyes.
“Have you seen a doctor?” he said.
“No.” She let go of the shirt and it hid her belly again.
“How did it happen?”
She looked away from his eyes. “I just had sex with a ... boy.”
“Marcie, you’re too young to be doing grown up things like that.”
“I know. It’s just, you know, it felt good.”
“Just because something makes you feel good doesn’t make it right,” he said.
“Why not?”
Oliver looked thoughtful for a moment.
“Sometimes ... Sometimes the Devil makes wrong things feel good to us so we’ll do them against God’s wishes,” he said.
“Oh. But it felt really, really good, you know what I mean?”
Oliver shook his head. “No Marcie. Members of the church are not allowed to have sex.”
Marcie blinked. “Not at all?”
“No.”
“So you’ve never done it?”
“Never. But I don’t feel the pressure to have sex and I’m proud of myself,” he said.
Marcie stared at him with her lips parted. That was the last thing she expected. She actually knew more about sex than him. How was that possible?
“I liked one of the boys I did it with. I thought I might marry him one day,” Marcie said.
“One of the boys? How many boys did you do this with?”
Marcie shrugged. “Just a couple. Why? Is that bad?”
Oliver put his hand on hers. His warm fingers touched her bare thigh and she felt a burning jolt through her body.
“You poor dear. Who are these men who corrupted you?” he said.
Marcie shook her head. “I don’t wanna say who it is.”
