Chapter 4: The Minister's Wife
The story you are about to read is true. All events and behavior are faithful accounts of past occurrences, although names have been altered to protect my ass and keep me out of court. Writer's license and humble discretion have been utilized where and when I felt it necessary to avoid embarrassment or legal action.
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The Reverend Ronald Joseph Wilson came knocking on my door at a truly ungodly hour. Being a student at the University Of New Mexico with no early morning classes had spoiled me. I had forgotten that there even was an hour called Seven A.M., especially on a Monday morning.
Had it been his wife ringing my doorbell so early I would have been the epitome of forgiveness. My door was always open to her luscious little body. Dianna was about ten years my senior, had two children and had lost her girlish figure but I could have cared less. There was something about the lady that made my body break out in a lustful sweat every time I was near her.
Ronnie Joe, as he had originally introduced himself, was another matter. Not only did the man have no tools or equipment, he seemed a bit low on pride also. He was always in some type of mechanical crisis and needing to borrow something to survive. I could never refuse his requests though, both from my kind heart and his genuine need. This morning was no exception. Of course how could I complain about a person saddled with two names? We here in America try to forgive the type of folk who are so defiled. Of course, most of these poor wretches are the same dumb stoops who are prone to wear hats while they eat and drive. We try to veil their existence.
After heartfelt apologies (and who is more heartfelt than a minister in trouble), he told me he had two flat tires and was overdue at his church to escort a group of youth to a weeks retreat at Glorietta. (note: For those not familiar with the splendors of America, the Baptist folks have a youth camp on the road between Santa Fe and Las Vegas, New Mexico). He also mentioned that he would be spending the week at camp with the young people. My lecherous heart skipped a beat.
Ronnie Joe went to get the first wheel from his car while I dug out my air compressor and tire repair kits. I had him on the road within half an hour but by then it was too late to return to my dreams and too early to go to my first class. Having nothing better to do, and being the good neighbor that I am, I went next door to assure Dianna that I would be available should she need anything. She gave me a bit of a scare when she told me she had to attend a church meeting that evening. I feared she was about to ask me to babysit the kids.
Now don't get me wrong. Her kids were nice enough children. Rachael was about ten and Jacob was seven or eight. They were both good eggs, as far as eggs run; if you like runny eggs.
All Dianna wanted from me though was to keep an eye on their house while she was gone. The kids were looking forward to an evening with their church friends. Far be it from me to spoil the little rug rats good time. I watched, they enjoyed, and I drifted off to sleep to my wonderfully lustful dreams.
The next day I awoke to the patter of rain on my patio roof. Albuquerque isn't plagued with an overabundance of rain and especially not the steady, lengthy type. When we get rain it's usually short, plentiful and violent. This mornings drizzle was definitely not our norm.
Much as I love the Duke City, I dreaded the trip down to the campus because I knew there would be a multitude of accidents on the way. Since it never rains or snows in Albuquerque (if you believe that, I have this bridge for sale), many of our local denizens have no idea how to drive in inclement weather. It does sometimes get quite interesting and quite entertaining. I remember one morning when it had snowed, a driver in a full size GM product had the front wheels tight against the curb of the center divider, the back wheels going full bore and was bouncing down the median at about a city block an hour. I chickened out and left before the car reached a break in the divider.
This morning though, the only driver I encountered who needed assistance was Dianna. She had taken the kids to school and was pulled over to the curb about a mile from our houses. Her car was surrounded by a puddle deep enough to almost cover the wheels on the driver's side. I was afraid to look at the passenger's side. I feared the water level was up to the window level. Rain or no rain, I walked over as close as I could to her door and asked her what had happened. The vehicle had just quit running as she was headed home. When she stopped there was just a small amount of water in the gutter. Unfortunately, as she sat there the water level had risen dramatically. Then she also mentioned she had run the battery down trying to start the car.
Of course, I immediately offered her a ride home with the assurance we would retrieve her car later when the rain stopped. She hesitated to leave her dry sanctuary and I assumed she was just reluctant to get wet. I told her that I had no umbrella, but she could put my jacket over her head to stay dry. I also assured her there was no way we could properly diagnose the car's problems and jump-start it in the middle of a lake.
She still seemed reluctant to accompany me and I felt a moments trepidation for fear she recognized my carnal desire for her. Then she turned a beautiful shade of red and told me she still had her bathrobe and slippers on. She was embarrassed to try to walk to my car in her state of apparel. Assuring her I would do my best to preserve her modesty, I waded through ankle deep water over to her door. When she started to exit the car, I told her to stand on the doorsill and not to step down into the water. My shoes and socks were already thoroughly soaked and since I saw no reason for her to get her feet wet, I swept her up in my arms and carried her to my car.
Of course we were both soaked from the rain, but at least she hadn't taken a complete dunking. When we got to my house, I used the garage door opener to get us inside without any further showers. She thanked me and asked me if she might borrow my umbrella for the short trip next door. I noticed as she got out of my car that she was no longer holding her robe quite so tightly about her.
Taking a big chance, I told her I'd help her home but she had to do me a favor for rescuing her. Like the truly naive innocent she was she answered, "Sure! What do you need? I'll be glad to do anything for you. You're always helping Ronnie or me somehow."
Encompassing her small hand in my callused paw, I led her to my kitchen. Without asking, I began to prepare a pot of coffee although she protested she should be getting home. It didn't take a lot of arm twisting to convince her that warm coffee, warm company and a warm kitchen precluded a hurried, wet trip home to an empty house. While the coffee brewed, I stripped off all my wet clothing except my skintight pants and threw the whole mess into the dryer. Retrieving a bathrobe from my bedroom, I asked Dianna to stand up and then without warning I pulled her robe from her shoulders. She uttered a self-conscious squeak but I wrapped my robe around her so fast she had virtually no time to feel embarrassed. Then I adjusted the dryer to its lowest heat setting and set the timer for two hours.
The robe I had given Dianna was shorter than her full-length modest garment and ended just above her knee level as she sat savoring her coffee. It was also a bit small through the hips which caused it to barely close over her crossed legs. I kept getting exciting glimpses of her shapely stems.
The few downy hairs upon my chest seem to fascinate her for she couldn't seem to quit staring at my naked pectorals as I sat opposite her at the table. Breaking the ice when a man is trying to seduce a woman is always difficult. You're afraid to come out and declare your intentions and desires for fear of rejection; arrest; lawsuits and even possible physical retribution from the female's significant other. On the other hand, silence breeds frustration!
We had wasted almost forty-five minutes of my two-hour dryer time before I finally got up the gumption to commit myself. Standing up, so Dianna could see my rigid excitement mounding the front of my still wet jeans I decided to step off the cliff. Facing her I said, "At the risk of embarrassing you I've got to get out of these wet pants before I catch my death of cold." Then I walked to the dryer, removed my all the rest of my clothing, put them in the dryer and reset the timer for another two hours.
Dianna jumped up from her chair and spilled almost a whole cup of hot coffee down the front of herself. As I patted her chest with my kitchen towel, she looked pointed at my nudity and blustered, "I've got to be going now! Thank you for saving me and for the coffee and for ...". She gasped a breath in midsentence and froze staring at my rigid manhood.
I caught her in my arms and pressed my lips to hers. Her jaw was clamped so tightly shut that her lips were almost as unyielding as her teeth. I ran the tip of my tongue across the obstinate rejection of her mouth. Eventually she made the mistake of trying to say something to me. The moment I felt her jawbone muscles begin to calm, I sucked her tongue into my mouth and we traced each other's lips and teeth until she relaxed in my arms.
"This is wrong", she stammered. "I can't do this. I'm a married woman."
