The church wasn't huge, just a small brick church with a white steeple -your standard small town church. It had a covered walkway near the back that led to another brick building, the fellowship hall. I could look out the window of the tiny florist and there it was across the street. Everyday that was my view - the most exciting thing was when they changed out their "pithy" quotes on their sign below the church and pastor's name and the schedule for services. For the last several months, the little blurb had been: "What's missing in ch__ch? UR!"
One day I noticed a couple of older women were changing the sign. One lady was pulling off the name of the pastor and putting up someone else's name. Another was putting "Meet and greet out new Pastor R. Marsh this Sunday." Curiosity got the best of me and I walked across the street.
I came to find out that there had been a sensational uproar among the congregation and the old pastor, and he had quit. The new pastor had been hired a week ago and this Sunday was to be his first official sermon. I used the ruse of asking about the altar flowers to find out what I could and the ladies just gushed when they talked about the new guy. He wasn't married (the older ladies already had single ladies lined up to meet him) and from the way they talked he was...almost... as handsome as Jesus Himself.
Weeks went by and I had not seen the new pastor. The parsonage was way behind the church itself, so I never saw him coming or going. And I never saw him when I delivered the altar flowers early Sunday mornings (I looked around very well).
One Saturday I had a small wedding to set up at the church. It was nothing big - a few candles and a big arrangement, plus a few things in the fellowship hall. I was putting a few finishing touches on the candle stands when I heard a cough behind me.
"I hope you're putting something under them to catch the wax," said the deep, but melodious voice.
"They're mechanical candles. They're dripless. You refill them with these...," I was saying as I turned around, and then stopped. The coiled spring inside the mechanical candle caused the wax refill to shoot out and hit the man in the chest. "Oh, my god, I'm so so sorry!" I said, cringing.
"Don't shoot me again, heathen!" he laughed. He approached me, holding out his hand. "I'm the new pastor, Richard Marsh." I shook his hand and introduced myself. He then took a step back, bent down, and retrieved the wax refill. I was impressed with the view. "You could really...well, I was going to say 'hurt' someone with these...but you really couldn't, could you?" he laughed as he handed it back to me. He gave me a wide grin and I almost died.
Pastor Richard Marsh was a rather handsome man. My first thought was of that portrait of blond white Jesus the church from my past had hanging in the church foyer. As a younger horny gay guy I actually thought that white Jesus was rather sexy and, occasionally, the thought of whom was in my head as I jerked off. Praise the lord, I thought lecherously to myself as the 'real' thing stood right in front of me.
Pastor Marsh was in his thirties. His hair was about medium-length and brushed back, a few strands falling into his face. He had dimples in his cheeks when he grinned and a strong square jaw. He had strong broad shoulders and tight waist. Okay, he was looking very Henry-Cavill-esque.
We chatted for a few minutes. He asked me a few questions, like if I worked across the street and if I was from the town. I found out that he had never lived in a small town, but he liked the change of scenery for the most part, except for the lack of bookstores, coffee shops, and restaurants. I agreed with him. I told him I was born here and left after high school, but had just moved back recently.
"Well, I need to finish up some work in my office. It was nice to meet you. The ladies had told me you did the lovely flowers for our altar. Have a good wedding...er, I mean, good day...and please don't 'shoot' anyone else," he said with a wink and a grin.
"I'll try to control my itchy trigger finger," I joked, motioning in the air with my fingers as guns as he walked away.
"Don't make me have to call the cops!" he jokingly yelled back at me.
He gave me a little wave with his hand as he left.
I went on to the fellowship hall and tidied it up. I was about to hang a couple of bows on the doors and leave when Pastor Marsh showed up again.
"Hey, Pastor Marsh, whatcha need?" I asked, thinking he was returning my bad joke from earlier.
"Oh. Please, call me Rick. I just wanted to ask...well, we're about the same age...and I didn't see a wedding ring," he said to me.
My heart stopped for a second.
"No, no, no," I stammered. "I'm just not the marrying kind."
"Well, okay," he laughed. "I just thought you might like to come over for dinner. These ladies have made me a ton of food, but I'm really craving a good Chinese stir-fry. I figure you'd enjoy it too, since we have both immigrated to the countryside. You could tell me about the town and all."
"Oh, that'd be great. I'll bring some win...," I paused.
"A bottle of wine would be great," he said, and kind of rocked back on his heels, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. "So, about seven?" he asked me.
"Perfect," I answered as he turned to leave. I noticed he gave me a little glance back around as he left.
