Mary Morgan sat near the front of the congregation contemplating the choir to her right – or, more particularly, one single member of the choir – her daughter-in-law, Chelsea. Chelsea had been married to Mary's step-son, David Collins, for three years and for all of that time Mary had been fantasising about getting the beautiful young woman naked and into bed. Mary was never sure why she was so sexually obsessed with Chelsea. Yes, the young woman was beautiful and her petite body was perfectly proportioned, but it was far more than just her daughter-in-law's looks. Chelsea had an open naivety, an innocence, which spurred Mary's lustful thoughts. As she watched the rise and fall of Chelsea's barely-there breasts under her modest blouse, Mary felt her own nipples harden and begin to tingle – as they always did whenever she thought about Chelsea's delectable young body.
But Mary wasn't the only one watching Chelsea with peculiar intensity. A few seats away another woman had her gaze fixed on the elegant young singer. Janet Deane, too, was besotted with the new preacher's wife. Chelsea's husband, David Collins, had come to the parish in the small country town just six months before. It was his first appointment as an ordained minister and his arrival with his beautiful young wife had been the talk of the community. For Janet, Chelsea's understated charms were a constant distraction in the tight-knit community. Janet had carefully cultivated a small clique of bi-sexual women since she herself had arrived there eight years before – women who met regularly to slake each other's lusts – and she viewed Chelsea Collins as "new blood" – a target for her insatiable appetites – a particular challenging target, given the young woman's religious devotion.
Chelsea, of course, was aware of none of this. As far as her own sexual thoughts ran – they were concentrated on a vague sense of disappointment with the bedroom aspects of her marriage. She had been a virgin of course when she had wed the handsome young seminarian, and had no real idea of what to expect from conjugal relations, yet she had a growing sense that something was missing. David managed to arouse pleasant feelings in her during their infrequent coupling but there was none of the intensity of feeling she had come to expect from her guilty perusal of romance novels. When he was inside her, Chelsea often felt a mounting excitement that just never grew beyond a certain level before her husband spent himself and rolled over to go to sleep, leaving her body charged with a frustrating sensation of unfulfilled passion.
The interminable service finally ended and as Mary Morgan filed out of the church she cast her eyes over the rest of the congregation. It was the usual dull assemblage of small-town types. Very few women aroused her interest. At 46, Mary, was enjoying a new burst of sexual energy. Her second husband – David's father – had died several years before, leaving her relatively well off and young enough to pursue new erotic adventures – especially those bi-sexual trysts with other women that she had shelved during her second marriage. She was still a very attractive woman, not thin by any means, but neither was she fat. Her body was well-rounded but toned and tanned. She was proud of her voluptuous DD-cup breasts and firm thighs and worked hard at keeping them in shape.
As she moved down the aisle to the doors of the small church she contemplated her step-son as he bade his congregation farewell. David seemed just as dull as his father had been and she felt sorry for Chelsea, guessing correctly, that David, like his father, brought very little passion – and still less skill – to the marriage bed. It was her first visit to their remote community since David took up the clerical posting. She'd made the long drive partly out of a sense of duty but mostly for the thrill of spending time with Chelsea. She enjoyed just being near Chelsea – and was peeved when David had taken her away from Sydney. There Mary had had plenty of opportunity to watch the teen bride develop into a sexy young woman; plenty of opportunities around the pool or at the beach to peek at Chelsea's bikini-clad body – her lithe legs, tight bottom and tiny – but oh so perfect – breasts.
When Mary reached the church door she noticed that Chelsea was deep in conversation with another woman. The woman was dressed in a figure-hugging red dress, showing more of her cleavage than Mary thought suitable for church. But she moved closer for a better view and liked what she saw. The woman looked to be about Mary's own age, with an attractive face, and hair cut in a stylish dark bob. Mary was annoyed that she seemed to be monopolising her daughter-in-law, holding both of Chelsea's hands as they chatted. Mary couldn't help feeling jealous of the woman – but also aroused by her obvious sexuality. The woman finally moved off and Mary moved in to steal a short hug from her daughter-in-law and congratulate her on David's "inspiring" sermon.
An hour later Mary was alone in the rectory. Chelsea had decided to make the three-hour round trip with her husband for his second service of the morning at the other outlying church he was responsible for in his vast rural parish. Just being near Chelsea all morning had made Mary feel aroused and she was just contemplating a bout of masturbation when the doorbell rang. She stifled her annoyance and composed a dutiful face to open the door. She was surprised to see the woman in the red dress standing before her. The woman was clearly as surprised as Mary.
"Oh," the visitor said. "I'm sorry I was looking for Chelsea – uh and David."
"I'm sorry," said Mary. "But they're both out just now. I'm David's step-mother, Mary. Could I help you with something?" Mary saw the other woman's eyes sweep over her in a frankly appraising manner and felt vaguely unsettled. The woman extended her hand.
"Oh, how do you do? I'm Janet Deane, one of your step-son's parishioners." Janet squeezed Mary's hand warmly – and her grip lingered just long enough to intrigue Mary. "I was hoping to have a word with Chelsea – you know, to see how she's settling in. But I don't want to bother you."
"Not at all," said Mary giving Janet a quick once over. Very nice: a trim and obviously firm body; her mid-size breasts shown off to advantage in that revealing red dress; black, low-heeled shoes and prominent gold jewellery at her fingers and neck. Her lipstick matched her dress and her eyes were tastefully made up. "Please won't you come in?"
"Only if it's not a bother."
"Oh not at all. In fact I'll be pleased to have some company."
Once settled side by side on the old leather lounge that came with the rectory – and with a cup of tea on the low table in front of them – the two women chatted amiably, each relaying something of her background. Janet, too, was a city girl but had lived in the country town with her bank-manager husband for almost eight years. As she chatted Janet became more and more aroused by the shapely woman opposite her. She liked Mary's skilfully-coloured blonde hair and subtle make-up. But she was mostly transfixed by the ample breasts that strained against Mary's soft pink blouse. A double-D at least Janet speculated. She wished she could reach out and feel their firm weight – but Janet didn't want to do anything that would arouse suspicion about her true sexuality and potentially ruin the carefully nurtured sex-group she had built up in this close-minded, conservative community.
So it was about twenty minutes before the conversation became more intimate.
Janet asked: "So how long have you been married to David's father?"
"Well, actually, I'm now a widow. David's father died three years ago."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Janet, and reached across the small gap between them to squeeze Mary's hand. Mary enjoyed the contact and clasped Janet's hand in her own. Janet moved closer so the women's bare knees touched, and was encouraged when Mary did not break the contact. "You must get so lonely?" Janet prompted, rubbing her thumb across the back of Mary's hand. Mary felt the suggestive caress and a pleasurable anticipation ran through her body. Was this woman making a pass at her? She decided to test the waters.
"Oh, it's not so bad now. I manage to keep myself – um – entertained. I have quite a few close girlfriends."
Janet's pulse quickened at the obvious emphasis that Mary had placed on the word "girlfriends" and she squeezed Mary's hand more firmly. It was Janet's turn to be intrigued. Was it possible she had stumbled across a possible conquest?
"Yes, women friends are very important to me too," said Janet with her eyes locked on Mary's. "Especially in this very small, very boring community. It's not so easy to find – shall we say, some excitement." The look in Janet's eyes now seemed unambiguous to Mary so she gambled on pressing the issue.
"Oh poor you," she sympathised. "I'd say your beauty is entirely wasted in this one-horse town."
