Until she was 18, Sara was nothing if not prude. She was raised in a household where Sundays were spent at church, followed by bible study and another "dinner service" on Sunday nights. Additional mandatory bible study took place on Wednesday nights in her school's gymnasium, as she went to Blessed Trinity Catholic School, and the church, with its large halls for social gatherings and its newly renovated facilities, had become a regular hangout spot for her and her friends. Sara wasn't allowed to attend coed educational institutions until she was 16, and on her birthday, her parents made her sign a pledge saying she would stay chaste and faithful, and to serve only her God until she was married; only then could she serve another. They signed waivers to excuse her from the weeks of health class where the reproductive system and sexual education was (briefly) covered, even though the school made students sign abstinence pledges. Her parents didn't want to spark her curiosity in any way, and they knew teenagers loved nothing more than to talk about (and, God forbid, have) sex.
Her father sat her down at least twice a month to make sure his daughter was still pure. Sometimes he would wait until her mother was gone for a few hours to have those talks because he had always shared a special connection with his daughter, and noticed her elevated levels of nerves and tension around his wife. He would begin by asking her simple questions, meant to help her feel comfortable. He would usually coax her into the kitchen with the promise of a bottle, Dr. Pepper, her favorite soda, and a cupcake from her favorite bakery. His wife kept sugar out of the house, and Sara could never resist. He would ask her to tell him the Ten Commandments, as well as phrases and excerpts from the book of Matthew or Exodus that he had made her memorize as a child. He would tell her, as he had so many times, that she was to serve both her heavenly and earthly fathers, and that this servitude could involve compromises or submissions that might not always be comfortable. Sara had been trained well, and it was embedded in her...she was made to serve both of her Fathers, and would always dedicate herself to that.
*
It was a warm afternoon in April the first time he noticed how covered in temptation his daughter was. She was laying out in the sun on an unusually nice day for New Hampshire. It should have been cold still, with the frost of the night covering branches of frail trees and causing girls' nipples to remain hard no matter how many layers they wore, but no, today was a beautiful day. Sara was laying out on the driveway with Darcy, her best friend who didn't go to Sara's school, but attended the bible study sessions every now and then; the gatherings were open to public and private school students. Darcy would always end up on the side of the gym with a boy, taunting him with her fresh, virgin body, and sometimes Sara caught her toying with the only lesbian in their entire class, drawing her in with her sweet, husky voice and intoxicating scent. Sara noticed how Darcy 's hips moved when she spoke to the cute boys, or when a girl was close to her, whispering gossip in her ear and letting her breath settle on their neck; Darcy would find a way to gingerly touch them, perhaps letting her hand graze their breasts as she would hug them. Sara was intrigued with Darcy and lately her father had been pushing her to make some more friends at church.
"The more girls the better," he would tease, "as long as you know I'm the only man you need."
*
Sara could feel a warm tingling sensation starting to reverberate through her, and she could feel her pulse increasing in intervals as Darcy's fingers started to delicately trace her nipples underneath her bikini top. They hadn't kissed, just teased each other about doing it, and Darcy had somehow steered the topic of conversation to how their breasts were developing. She did this so effortlessly; Sara was completely oblivious to her intentions but her body knew what it craved.
"Yours are totally bigger than mine!" Sara noticed, as Darcy adjusted her bikini top.
"No way," Darcy retorted, "but honestly, there's no difference to guys, they don't care if you're a 32 A or a 34 DD. I bet your dad doesn't care about the size of your mom's," Darcy continued to tease and noticed Sara shifting slightly, her shoulders tense and face contorted at the thought of her mother and father together.
"Oh, come on," Darcy nudged her, causing a smile to sweep over Sara's freckled, sun-kissed face, "your mom and dad love each other, the Lord's plan worked for them or whatever...so it's okay!"
Sara hated the way Darcy could sometimes seem condescending about her religious beliefs but she loved her company so much she pushed it aside. Besides, she came to bible study and Sara figured maybe that could save Darcy in the end. The day was getting even warmer as the sun rested at the zenith of its cycle around the girls who were so lost in conversation and naïve flirtation that they didn't hear Sara's dad coming down the driveway.
"Come on, Sara, don't be such a prude," Darcy was in the middle of her routine taunting as she reached out to playfully pinch Sara's nipples the way she always did with the boys at school. Sara was trying to pinch her back when her father reached them. Darcy had always wanted to tell Sara that her mom was a lucky woman; Sara's dad was tall and broad, his muscular swimmer's body had retained its tone with age, and he had crystal blue eyes that seemed to cut through people like a hot knife to butter when he maintained eye contact long enough. His scruffy salt-and-pepper beard complimented his jawline, and he was always poised in his movements. Darcy truly thought he was flawless, the kind of man every girl wants to have, even if it only happened once, but she could never tell Sara that.
"Are you girls having fun?"
Darcy let his deep, comforting voice fill her and run through her veins, her heart skipping a little as he stood over her; her face was level with his crotch. She could make out the outline of his bulge through his perfectly ironed khaki shorts.
"Yeah, Mr. H., we definitely are. I was just telling Sara how lucky she is to have parents who love each other as much as you and the missus," Darcy fibbed, and she was keen to doing so.
He gave the girls a small laugh, and asked Darcy if she was always so charming. Sara responded with a very noticeable eye roll and Darcy couldn't help but perk up, sitting straighter and smiling wider as she responded, "It takes a charmer to know one, Mr. H, and I bet Mrs. H loves your charm." He noticed small shifts in the way she was maneuvering her body, almost as if...no he had to be imagining it. He tried to find another bible verse to quote for the girls as a sort of quick derailment from a potentially sinful conversation but he was stumbling on this thoughts as he noticed how Darcy's hip bones jutted out, caused her bathing suit bottoms to leave a small gap where he could slightly see the delicate skin beneath the fabric. His mouth watered.
"Did you need anything, Daddy?" Sara asked, and he found himself pleased with the sweet tone behind her voice as opposed to the blatant annoyance he had seen so many teenagers express toward their parents.
"Yes, baby," he started, "I was wondering if you and Darcy would like to join me in a few minutes for a bite to eat? Your mom made way too much egg salad, and I just made some fresh lemonade, perfect on a hot day like this one." Darcy practically jumped to her feet and answered for the both of them.
"That sounds perfect, Mr. H!"
Sara didn't know why she felt a little jealous of the smile her Daddy returned to Darcy, then again, her Daddy was always kind and giving and the world needed more people like that so she was okay with sharing. She gathered all of their things and offered to carry Darcy's stuff for her, in an attempt to be a good host, just the way her mother had taught her. Darcy didn't even hesitate to let her, and on the way inside Sara noticed a little extra bounce Darcy had given her steps as she walked next to Sara's father, who seemed extremely engaged in their boring conversation about next week's church pot luck.
