I was already apprehensive as I made my way through the church to the rooms where I knew our local vicar would be waiting. I had come to audition for the church choir, and he doubled as choirmaster in our parish. I didn't have a bad voice, and I had sung in choirs before, but not for a few years, so I was a little out of practice. If I made it through the audition, I knew there would be plenty of practicing to come, plenty of time spent in the church, with the other men and women who sang in the choir, getting the sound right for performance at the services during the week.
I knocked on the door to the vestry at one side of this old stone building.
"Come."
I pushed gently on the door and it creaked as it swung open. There was the vicar, sitting at a large wooden desk with his back to me, fully dressed in his black robes. Hymn and prayer books adorned the shelves which covered the walls.
"It's Jake Simpson," I said out loud. I was a fairly ordinary guy, and even my wife thought so. I was 28 with no children yet, married three years or so, and quite happily. I attended church with my wife regularly, but admittedly it was more because I had been brought up to do so, rather than through any true commitment. I was tall, with an average build, no six pack, but no large belly either.
The vicar rose slowly from his chair and turned to greet me. He beamed warmly, as I took in his large form. He was a big man, a little taller than me, black, and well built without being overweight. He walked towards me and extended a hand. I shook it firmly and he returned the gesture, squeezing back, but not too hard.
To tell you the truth I was a little in awe of Father Roberts. He had a deep booming voice when he preached, but he could be quiet and softly-spoken too. I was quite nervous as I remembered what I had come here to do.
"I've come for the choir audition, Father Roberts."
"Of course you have," he boomed. He switched to his soft and gentle manner: "Well let's get on with it."
He moved to close the vestry door.
"We don't want anyone disturbing us, do we." He smiled and I noticed a twinkle in his eye. He was certainly a charismatic man, and I relaxed inwardly at his friendly but lively manner.
Father Roberts walked across the room, sat at the piano, and began to play some chords.
"Just repeat the notes you hear and we'll go from there." The vicar continued playing, and I started to sing, again a little nervously.
"Can you go any louder?" he boomed again. I couldn't. I had never had a very strong voice, but I knew that I sang in tune.
He stopped playing for a moment and got up.
"You need to relax your belly and open up, then the sound will come, clearer and louder. Here let me show you how."
The vicar moved behind me and placed his large hand on my stomach. He pushed inwards.
"Now try and sing like that. Difficult isn't it?"
He relaxed his arm, patted my stomach a couple of times and then began to rub it in circles. His hand was warm, and I responded to his touch.
"You need to relax, as I said. All the way from your chest to your belly." He held his hand on my chest for a moment, then moved it downwards, stopping at my stomach once more. He put his other hand on my lower back and held it there.
"Now try and sing. Let the sound come out!"
I did and my voice did seem to be louder.
"We need more of that Jake. Here, watch me do it. Put your hand on my belly and feel what happens when I sing."
I did as he said once more. He stomach felt firm through his robes, and then began to move and vibrate as he started to sing. I have already said that he had a powerful voice, and his singing matched his speaking for clarity and volume.
"Now you try it, let your belly vibrate," he commanded. "Loosen your shirt a bit." He reached across and undid my top button, and pulled my shirt out from my trousers so that it hung out.
"Try again Jake." He then slid his hand under my shirt so that it rested on my bare stomach underneath.
"Now I really want to feel it."
His hand was warm and soft and smooth. He held it there, and I relaxed further under his gaze. His other hand was now on my lower back, also under the shirt and against my bare skin. It didn't seem quite right at first, but his influence overwhelmed me and I just went with it. The audition would soon be over afterall. I thought for a moment of my wife at home. I looked forward to going back to see her, before turning my attention once more to the singing.
"Now sing for me Jake, any notes you like," said Father Roberts. He held my stomach and lower back firmly, occasionally stroking across my bare skin. This was surely to help the relaxation, I thought to myself. At the sime time it did start to feel a little different. It began to feel good.
