Enchanting Sarah

"You can do what you like with me," Arlova had said to Rubashov, and he had sacrificed Arlova because his own existence was more valuable to the Revolution -- Arthur Koestler, Darkness at Noon.

My name is Sarah; loving wife of the late John, who was called to God after a nineteen-month struggle with an aggressive brain tumour. Our shared faith strengthened us through these tough times. For many years we attended the nine o'clock Sunday service as husband and wife and continued, even when John was wheelchair bound. We only stopped in the last few months when I was unable to care for him properly and he needed the specialised attention of a residential care facility.

It was as I was walking to the church, in the year after the year of John's passing, that I received a most disturbing vision; a vision that troubled my soul. I am a Christian woman, whatever a Christian woman is, and was preparing for my weekly devotions. The vision was as uplifting to the soul as the devotions I was preparing myself for.

It was a man; Rodolfo was his name. He was of the proper age for an infatuation; tall, with blue eyes, grey hair, suntanned, and of firm body.

From that time, so as not to offend God or mammon, I was determined to remain a Covid-19 safe distance from him and bid no more than a respectful goodbye when we took our leave at the entrance to the church. Nothing more - my heart was beating too fast. It was doubt about his intentions, and my sad emotional state, which drew me towards this mysterious gentleman, who so much reminded me of my late husband.

A fellow parishioner told me that Rodolfo was once a high-ranking government official in the consular sections of the Embassies of the Argentine Republic. He was rumoured to be the younger son of a wealthy family; a serial seducer of women; a man with a romantic and religious soul; a dabbler in the black arts. Although rarely seen in public with a paramour, he was said to have once been caught

in flagrante delecto

with the wife of an influential member of

El Jockey Club de Buenos Aires

.

For these sins, real or imagined, his punishment was to remove him far from the genteel society matrons of Buenos Aires. And, from the not so genteel ladies that plied their trade along Avenida Santa Fe at night.

These confessions disturbed me, for I was afraid that the gentleman would cast a spell over me, and I would be unable to resist his charms as a good Christian.

Each week, without fail, I encountered him on my way to the church and repeated the same question, "Sir, are you waiting for me?"

"Yes" he invariably replied "for seven days I have waited to see you. God knows that this day He has favoured me with His goodness and allowed me to find you on the way to His House, and I can tell you everything my soul feels for you. You will be happy to hear my words. You have gained my admiration."

"Do not bother me, I beg you, Sir. I am very sad, and I don't deserve to bother anyone with my sadness."

"

¡Dios mío!

It is certain that you are suffering. But anything is possible."

These conversations, such as they were, continued, for thirteen consecutive Sundays. He walked me from the entrance to the parking area to the entrance of the church. His parting words were lost as I hurried into the church and found safety among a flock of prim matrons already seated in the herded congregation.

Although fluent, some of his expressions were not that of a native English speaker; this added to the enchantment because his manner of speaking was so formal, even old fashioned. This combined with his deep knowledge of philosophy and religion, was making it hard to maintain a safe distance.

I tried not to show too much interest in him, whatever his interest in me was, for it was not possible to calm my heart when he was near me. When he looked at me, excitement coursed through my veins, and I sensed a sweetness that filled his heart. It was as if I was being deflowered by silent madrigals ringing in my ears.

In vain, I tried to avoid him on my way to the church, but he always found me and walked and talked with me, oblivious to the glances of inquisitive gossips. It was impossible to remain for so long in doubt as to his intentions, whatever they were, around me every week.

Then as suddenly as he had first appeared, he disappeared, as if into a black hole from which no word of him could escape. As the months passed without seeing or hearing of him, I started to feel more cured of this sinful longing.

I dared not ask any-one what had happened to him. My heart would fill with a joyful exuberance when I thought of him; this would give me away. Occasionally when I walked alone to Sunday service, thoughts dark and romantic of him returned.

It was one Sunday morning. about six months after the cruel disappearance, as I was walking to the church, that I sensed the presence of a darker spirit. I was being shadowed by an apparition, tall and handsome. As the apparition got closer to me, I could make out the visage and was unable to stop profanity escaping my lips.

"Heavens above. Damm you."

"Sweet young lady?"

"Yes, but how is it possible after all this time, it truly is you?"

"Yes, I am the old gentleman, who waited at church for many Sundays and walked with you from the curtilage to the parvis; and that you confided in, telling me how your heart was broken from the passing of your husband; do you not remember me."

"Oh, of course I do, Sir. It is Rodolfo, Mr. Rodolfo!"

"Yes, it is me, who in vain have tried to know you for a long time, do I not merit your confidence?"

My face turned red, and I remained mute. I was at sixes and sevens and had forgotten to properly show my anger at his cruel disappearance and reappearance from my life.

He came closer to me; looked at me, like he was examining a laboratory rat. Then he took me by the arm and said: "Let us sit in a place where they can't see us; I will tell everything to you; to the only one."

My anger flew away, for I believe in the forgiveness of sins. I followed full of happiness, infinite happiness and at that moment my heart was made whole again.

We found a more secluded place.

He remained silent for a brief time and after looking intently at me said: "I wanted you from the first day that I saw you."

"Why did you not come to the church anymore?" I replied flustered by this sudden outpouring from this old man.

"Because I had to return to my wife."

"Your wife?"

It was as if a cataract of chilly water had hit me... Rodolfo married... what could I say?

"You are married?"

"I was, the result of circumstances not of our making; we have produced no issue and have not cohabited for many years. The poor lady took ill last year and needed my support as the life slipped away and she was returned to God. I did this until the very end; she is at peace now. I have returned now sweet lady."

I have long practice of how to hide my sorrow, without anyone knowing how to feel sorry for me. However, this time my eyes began to well up with tears. I too had lost someone I loved.

"Please, sweet lady, do not shed sorrowful tears because of that. Hear me out, meet me after the service and I will explain everything to your satisfaction, you have enchanted me."

With that he bade me "

Vaya con Dios

" and left me to attend to my devotions, as if I could, in my confused state. That day, the service seemed to go on for longer and longer.

The service finally over, the congregation spilling out, I saw him at the far end of a line of parked cars. Was he waiting for me? I looked around and hurriedly walked over to his car. "Quickly" I said in a confused state "what if gossips were to see me getting into a gentleman's car unchaperoned?"

We left quickly and continued in silence until we reached the sombre grey townhouse where he lived. I had not intended for us to be alone in his house, but I was aroused by the mystery surrounding him and curious to lean more. A gentleman of his age should be safe enough.

As soon as he ushered me inside and led me to the sitting room, he took me by both hands, fixed his eyes on me, and said, "I am tortured by physical desire for you, sweet lady. I can think of nothing but your beauty, your young lithe body. I hate that; I must struggle to repress it. Do you forgive me?"

It thrilled me that he should feel like that about me. He had always been so cold, so reserved, so opposed to sentimentality -- to the kisses and endearments that I would have so liked.

I was carried away by emotion for the loss of my husband and felt sad for the loss of his wife. I did not want to know about his disappearance for fear it would break the spell he had cast over me. I would give myself to him, allow him to take possession of my body in arousal. This he sensed and raised his arms around my neck, lifted my face to his kisses, whispered something sweet and inaudible.

He began kissing my soft warm mouth. He touched my bare arm as if testing my resolve. I was overcome by the warm sensual sensations. I let his hands dance over my clothing.

"We will adjourn to the bed chamber, sweet lady. Come with me,

mi amor

, undress, and enjoy perfect happiness in our nakedness together. Come with me to Elysium!"

It was more of a carefully worded statement than a simple request. He was a clever seducer and almost certainly knew that once I entered his house that I was not going to make him trouble if he entered me.

I followed him into the bedroom and slowly started to undress while he kept his eyes fixed firmly on me. I unbuttoned my blouse, folded it, and placed it on a chair near the bed. Stepping out of comfortable court shoes, I pulled down my pantihose and placed them neatly under the chair with my shoes. Then, I froze as the enormity of what I was doing dawned upon me.

He was good - broke the ice without hesitation, unbuckled my belt, and pulled it through the skirt loops, saying "We may need this later?"

What did he mean?

I let him unsnap my brassiere, pull the straps down over my hands, and throw it on the chair. He was in a hurry to cup, fondle and kiss my newly released breasts. I pushed him away, but he just stepped back momentarily as if nothing had happened and said, "What shall we remove next?"

Without waiting for me to reply he undid the zipper on my skirt, let my skirt fall to the floor, motioned me to step out of it, and told me to place it neatly folded on the chair.

"You are a sweet lady, Sarah, and I know you want to please me. Now let me gaze upon your body."

My immediate reaction was to raise my right hand to cover my naked breasts and shoot my left hand down to better obscure the outline of my pantied pussy - the classical

Venus pudica

to protect a lady's modesty

"This false modesty only increases my desire for you, my sweet lady, you have nothing to fear from me. Now, take your hands to your side and let me gaze upon your pudenda."

It was then that I noticed him starring at my untrimmed mound, partly visible through my lace panelled panties. Embarrassed, I fled for the safety of the bed and pulled the covers over me. It was going to take me a long time to get comfortable with the idea of being naked with Rodolfo, because that was not how I was raised. You did not do sinful things like that except, perhaps, with your husband. And to be your husband in the eyes of God, you had to be married in the church.

Rodolfo sensed my embarrassment, for he said to me, "We are single man and woman in the eyes of God; there is no specific prohibition in the Holy Bible against carnal intimacy between an unmarried man and an unmarried woman. Is it not written in 1 Corinthians;

A wife is bound to her husband as long as he lives? But if her husband dies, she is free to be married to whom she wishes, only in the Lord?

"

This was a very liberal interpretation of the Bible, and I grasped at it; after all I was almost naked, in his bed. I wanted Rodolfo to bed me and swear his love for me.

Caught up in the tender trap he had so well prepared for me, I whispered, "Yes" and steeled myself to

lay back and think of England

.

What was his response? It was to remove his shirt and shoes, drop his trousers and pull a stiff dick out - I could hardly believe the latent sexual energy resident in this old gentleman! Right in front of my face it was! And he placed one hand on the back if my head and firmly, and with almost certain knowledge that I would consent, inveigled his member onto my pursed lips.

"Submit to me, my sweet lady, it is permitted to do this. I am your most ardent swain, and it is surely sanctioned by our shared faith to care for our most intimate needs."

My husband used to tell me that I was good at fellatio, and no-one had complained of my performance before I was married. But it was a stiff challenge to get back into the swing of things and jiggle his stiffy into my mouth and down my throat after long abstinence. I sucked his dick as I had been taught, licking the head from inside my mouth and nibbling up and down along the shaft. At the same time, I was gently squeezing his balls as best I could with my free hand.

When I judged his dick was hard enough and I was ready, I said to him "I am not very fertile at this time so you can come inside me if you want Sir."

My vagina was lubricating, and he had my saliva all over his dick; it slid easily into me, considering this was my first time in over three years that anything mentionable, apart from my hairbrush handle had been in there. As soon as head of the dick entered, I jumped forward as I had almost forgotten what a hard penis felt like.

I jumped, I squirmed, and I ignored the bruising he must be inflicting on my internals. I was over-excited.

"Quieten down girl, I am taking it easy on you. If it hurts, we can negotiate or,

in extremis,

you can demand immediate withdrawal."

It took a few minutes or so of him being still for me to get used to having a penis in me again. When he proceeded to push in, I got more and more excited. I told him "You may go deeper." I wanted him to place his full measure inside me. When I was loosened up and he started humping me full measure, my head would not stop spinning.

"Go ahead, Sir. Take your time. I won't stop you."

I could hardly believe how tight my vagina was in enveloping his penis and afterwards how intense my climax would be. But, at that moment when he started to really enjoy the humping he was giving, I climaxed! In doing so, I screamed so loud that he said, "quieten down girl, we don't want the neighbours to hear you, do we?"

No-one had seen me enter the house; the neighbours were not applauding the performance; and he was not stopping until he was finished. All was good. At one point I felt that I could time his pulse from the throbbing of his cock inside my vagina, I had never felt so full.

When he finished his business, he got off me and said, "Lie still girl, while I go and clean up."

Panting, perspiring, and pussy full of this man's seed, I turned onto my side, wiped myself with a tissue, and waited my turn in the bathroom. I had my back to him when he returned and yanked my legs to flip me belly down on the bed.

"Why did you do that, Sir?" I asked.

He laughed and said, "We have been intimate. I like that you address me as Sir. It shows a good Christian upbringing on your part, and a readiness to submit to my lawful demands. Thank you, girl."

Having gone from 'sweet lady' to 'girl' was demeaning, but if this was the appellation he wanted to use, I saw no reason to dispute him. Experience with my late husband had taught me that it was an effortless way to feed a man's ego. He could be Sir Lancelot for all I cared, and I have been called worse things than 'girl.'

"You have just willingly submitted to coitus with me and now I am going to discipline you." And with that I felt something cold and sensual running across my bare bottom, or 'ass' as Rodolfo liked to call it. Next, came a light blow across my bare buttocks, inflicted by my own belt!

"You hit me for no reason, Sir," I said, "and you said we are both single; it is allowed in the Bible."

He smiled again, "It pleases me" he said. He passed his hand over my bare buttocks, as a man might caress a dog.

"Next time it will be harder, girl."

And that was the beginning of our liaison. I felt inferior to him and struggled with my Christian tenets; but still he was a good man, an enchanter, and like Arlova, I knew that he might do what he liked with me.