Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
Chapter 1
"Hi," I called from the outer doorway to the minister's office. "I wanted to ask about joining the choir? I just moved here from Nesterville and thought I'd like to get back into church." My questioning tone indicated my request was also about whether or not there were restrictions on joining the choir, such as having to be a member of the congregation, or even having to sing to audition. (Although that wouldn't have been a problem for me.)
A beautiful young woman approached me, smiling widely in welcome. "That's great!" she gushed. "We love welcoming new people to our mist! Our choir is small in numbers, but we really know how to rock the church. What's your vocal range?"
Mist?
I thought.
She must mean 'midst.'
"I'm pretty flexible," I admitted. "I can sing everything from tenor through high soprano. You think there might be a place for me? You all sounded good, yesterday morning."
"Wait," she said suddenly, giving me a suspicious look. "Haven't I seen you somewhere, on TV maybe?"
"No!" I declared hastily, averting my gaze. "That must have been someone else. You know, everyone has a doppelganger somewhere. I've been told before that I look like Susan This, or Barbara That..."
I could hear myself babbling and immediately stopped.
There was a slight pause as the red-haired woman continued to look at me. Finally, she said, "O-kaaay... we'll go with that. When would you like to join us for practice? We start at seven in the evening, every Thursday."
I was thrilled. Nothing matches the feeling I get whenever I move people to tears as they listen and get carried away by my music. The soaring notes pouring from me are somehow imbued with more power than I have, as I share my gifts of music with others. Singing opera had been like that.
I used to be a one of those big-name 'Opera Stars' with sold-out performances all the time. It was often
my
voice with a thrilling rendition of the national anthem before a world-class event. Whenever I was booked for a spot on TV, ads were run for weeks ahead of time, ensuring increased ratings for the network over which I sang to millions.
I laughed with delight, then mentioned the error I had noticed as I'd perused the bulletin during yesterday's service. "I got a real kick out of your typo," I said, grinning in shared humor, or so I thought. "It says the choir is getting together this coming Saturday at the director's house for 'fun and sinning.'"
"Yeah?" she asked, "So?"
I gulped. "Ah, well..."
Slowly she closed and then re-opened her left eye as a grin grew across her face. "I might not always be right, but I'm never wrong. You'll see. My name's Julia," she went on. "I'm the secretary here, as you've guessed. My older brother is the choir director. We usually have our 'funtime' meetings at his place."
I noticed that Julia didn't insist that I come to their off-grounds gathering, but that was okay; I didn't want to be committed to attend a party where I'd never met anyone before, anyway.
"I'm M-...Belinda Baylor," I said, trying to make my newly chosen name sound familiar, at least to myself. I was going to have to work on that. "I guess I'll see you Thursday."
The community was rural, located in upper Delaware. It was close enough to my sister's home that I'd come here easily when I needed to get away from the man I loved.
I'd grown up here on the upper East coast, close enough that New York City was always a potential target for launching a career in music.
This church was one of those individual worshiping congregations of no particular denomination, that catered to people who wanted to worship the Lord, without worrying about some hierarchical intervention into what practices they wished to follow. They had formed under the leadership of the pastor.
It was close to my new place, was small but looked well maintained and inviting to me. I was pleased that the service I'd attended had included people who went out of their way to welcome me as a newcomer or visitor.
Chapter 2
Thursday night choir practice was fun. It was a small group, having dwindled from more than a dozen to just the six who continued to hold to their choir commitment. They were few in number but mighty in sound!
The group was made up of seven in total. The director, Jason, was as red-haired as his sister Julia, who sang a mean alto line. The soprano section had three seated there. Alice sang with a high, ethereal tone, somehow fitting well with her cherubic face. The twins, Kulea and Leula sang harmonious second soprano with clear, crisp diction elevating the verse. Their gleaming black eyes shone with joy as they sang.
I love to hear male voices singing. As I listen, I can feel the sympathethic vibration deep within my breast, as the resonance lifts me along with their counter-melody.
I eyed T-Juan and Simri with interest. T-Juan's skin was a deep ebony in color, just a few shades darker than my own. Simri was much more compactly built than either of the other men, but his generous smile revealed sparkling white teeth, a highlight of his ruggedly handsome visage.
We settled in and worked on next Sunday's music for about an hour and a half. I sang alto with Julia for a couple of the songs, but joined Alice on the high melody line for the main anthem. Without thinking about it, I automatically sang out the descant line, my voice echoing strongly above the support of the choir. At the final chorus, I went into an incredible riff on the demanding phrasing, pealing God's greatness for all to hear!
When we finally ended on a triumphant chord, cutting off perfectly together at Jason's direction, there was stunned silence.
I stood there quietly, my mouth closed, as I nervously glanced around. "Is something wrong?" I asked, finally.
"No!" Jason exclaimed. "Nothing's wrong! Can you do that again, Sunday?"
"Sure," I said with relief.
"Great. Be here an hour before the service starts. We'll get you a robe and warm up together for a few minutes. Then, we'll show you how we line up to process."
I heard a male voice say, "What about Saturday?" but I was focused on Jason, so I couldn't tell if it was T-Juan or Simri who had asked.
Jason's eyes darted quickly in the direction of the questioner. He shook his head slightly, then said, "We're really glad you're joining us! We'll see you on Sunday."
I took this for the dismissal it was and left, fully understanding that I would be a subject of discussion before the balance of the choir disbanded for the night.
Chapter 3
Saturday morning, Julia called me. She said she could use my help with a play the kids were putting on for the congregation. Of course, I agreed. I've never declined spending a few hours with creative children. (I always keep in mind that they aren't coming home with me.)
When I was famous, I didn't have time to spend with my family in any real way. My sister, Jelissa, and her daughter, Tamika, were the ones I loved most, but my fame had come at a steep price. I'd not been able to spend many visits with them for years, and even those were quickly over.
It was only since the accident that I'd been able to be part of their lives, again. (Thank God, I was on a visit with them when it happened.)
I entered the church gymnasium, only to find the rehearsal already well underway. I could clearly hear the exasperated tones of the Bible-school teacher as she called, "The scene is too DULL!! Put more LIFE into your DYING!"
That turned out to be the high point of the morning. I knew the presentation would be enthusiastically received, no matter the actual skill involved, so I was still in a great frame of mind when Julia acknowledged she was done and asked if I wanted to 'hang out' for a while longer.
That sounded fun to me, so I joined her, hopping into her car at her insistence.
We drove out into the countryside, chatting amiably, without really saying anything of note. Julia pulled up at last, in a shady spot beneath a tree gracing the edge of a lovely pond.
I simply gazed at the country landscape for a moment. "This is beautiful."
"I don't like swimming in there, anymore," Julia said sadly, as we got out and approached the edge. "It has too much of that green allergy."
I held my tongue but couldn't stop my grin. Was she serious?
"Has the town had to start some water treatment?" I asked, not sure if this pond was somehow connected to the city's water supply.
"Well," Julia said seriously, "they say they've tested everything and it's okay, but half the lies they tell me aren't true."
I blinked. This must be one of her traits. I looked forward to more of her unwittingly twisted remarks. (I look for light-hearted moments wherever I can find them. They haven't always been around.)
"My husband and I used to come down here," she said wistfully.
"I haven't met him, yet. Will he be at church, tomorrow?"
"Oh, no," she laughed. "He doesn't go. He hasn't tried to stop me, but he claims all the do-gooders are hypocrites; wild horses couldn't push him inside. It'd be like trying to squeeze toothpaste back into the tube! Still, despite his flaws, I'll keep him; he knows all my erroneous zones."
Once she offered the sexual remark, Julia's green eyes sharpened a bit, as she looked at me with speculation, perhaps wondering if I would react negatively to such intimate sharing.
I just looked at her, wondering where she was leading the conversation.
"You know," she said, "there are just some things you can't do without, and a good man is one of them." She went on to say, very quickly, "A good woman, too! All people."