Sex & The Church V

Title: Sex & The Church V

Synopsis: The seedy side of church and its virile young men out to get laid.
 

Disclaimer:

The following contains some Christian scenes written in a Christianly way.

All characters appearing in this work are Christians.

Any resemblance to persons living or dead is a miracle. 

List of Characters:

Jason Loh – resident glutton

Goh Xin Yuen – resident rapist

Alan – Alabama Man

Melinda – soap opera villainess

Steven – cell warden

Kuantan Nurse – fresh meat 1#

Micha – fresh meat 2#

Alice – gossipmonger 1#

Helen – gossipmonger 2#

Pastor Daniel Ho –  the pontiff 

Chapter 5:The Kingdom of God

 It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good car must be in want of speeding. Xin Yuen’s concept of driving consists of abusing the accelerator until the tyres produce a sensation of flying in space. And that was how we glided marvellously through traffic on our way to church, with adrenaline pumping and spirits soaring high. The young executive director was a thrill-seeker in the fast lane. The fact that he did not believe in Newton’s 3^rd Law of Motion meant that he did not believe in momentum upon impact. With his massive god complex, the man was convinced of his invincibility on the road.

He believed himself indestructible.

“Hey, wait till the cops come after you,” I rebuked him. This would be a great time for the traffic police to pop up.

“If they come, I just need to show them my car plate,” he said smugly, almost dismissively. Those (creepy) eyes were hidden under a dark pair of shades, creating an image reminiscent of a Korean celebrity.

The rest of the morning was spent in church. Ordained men of cloth stood at the doorway of the auditorium to greet each and every visitor to Sunday service. Clad smartly in office suits, the DUMC pastors could well be mistaken as business executives as they practiced their well-trained handshakes to usher in a train of equally well-dressed men and women. Pamphlets containing the Word of God were systematically distributed to the flock of obedient sheep at the entry. Some ladies looked resplendent in their frocks, while their CEO husbands begrudgingly occupied special cells reserved for the bourgeois class. The church was a metaphor for consumerist modernity, its very existence being an example of fine cosmopolitan living. Every Christian has a specific job, a regular routine. Like a well-oiled machine, they performed their duties well – some carried trays, some ushered us to seats, some ran the concierge, some handled the camera and some just danced on the stage. Membership fees were reasonably priced, although paying ten percent of your income to the church was deemed an excellent way of showing devotion to Jesus. Tithing was not only encouraged, but made mandatory with a simple signature on a binding contract. I was awed by the dedication and zeal shown by Christians.

The auditorium was freaking huge. Above the glitzy stage was a podium. When the devotees were not busy dancing or blasting away music from a live band, we have the Supreme Leader himself, Pastor Daniel Ho giving his sermon which was broadcasted live from a big screen LCD display at multiple locations. Like a rockstar, he entertained us with biblical parables taken from contemporary living. Pastor Ho was an extremely charismatic man. His astuteness in speech was only matched by his disarmingly warm and congenial aura. Blessed with spiritual gifts, he was able to see visions and premonitions, as evidenced by his weekly reporting of what he saw (and sensed) to his congregation. My cell leader, Steven, once assured me that Pastor Ho was entirely holy and without any cardinal sin. This unblemished state no doubt rivalled that of the Pope. Each Sunday celebration would end with a prayer spoken by some random dude. These prayers sounded gibberish and mangled. I was told that they were speaking in tongues, and that this spiritual gift can be harnessed with proper training from the church.

Xin Yuen chose a seat right atop of the auditorium, isolated from the rest. It was a nice throne to display his new prize – me. We chattered non-stop like two naughty children in class while Pastor Ho delivered his sermon. Oblivious to his surrounding, Xin Yuen drew a whimsical cat in his notebook while I drew a comical duck in exchange. He shared tales of his love life and his previous relationships while I kept an impassive mask. Stories like his were most common, and I took them with a pinch of salt as I know men are not exceptionally well-known for honesty. Gradually, I felt a curious warmth snaking behind my shoulders, and I realized he had rested his arms around my seat rather protectively. Briefly, I considered removing them but that would be awfully rude, not to mention awkward. It would be a disaster. Not an option. On second thought, I desired that warmth, that feeling of closeness. His arms were so coaxing and gentle.

“May I pray for you?” asked Xin Yuen with a note of concern. This was probably the No.1 pick-up line of Christian men, and I daresay, the most effective way of getting into the good books of any self-respecting girl. Softly, he touched my shoulders and muttered a soothing prayer. My muscles relaxed immediately under the magic.

Perhaps things were moving a little too fast. Perhaps I was too absorbed in his charm that I failed to see what was truly happening. Whatever it was, we missed an opportunity to develop a wonderful friendship. And it had dire repercussions.

By the time I entered the lion’s lair – his house, the tell-tale sign of sexual tension was blooming under the guise of friendship. We were greeted by the sound of little pattering feet and a small dog flew straight out of kitchen, bouncing up and down like an elastic ball of rubber with his hyperactive backs. “Terri, come, Terri,” commanded his master, but the petite canine turned his attention to me, sinking his tiny claws into my cotton leggings while pawing me affectionately. Aww. I took a good look at his pet poodle. Terri happened to be a toy dog of the terrier breed, and his mane of snow-white fur, slightly curly and glossy, looked frantically conditioned and well-groomed. Somehow, his uninhibited energy reminded me of a Jack Russell. I checked the fabric of my leggings, hoping that they were not scratched.

“Come, let me give you a tour of my home,” said the lord of the mansion. My eyes swept across the opulent kitchen, drinking in the details of its tasteful furnishing, smooth black counter, plain dining table, and a spectacular swimming pool on the open veranda. Everything looked clean, simple and Spartan. Interestingly, Xin Yuen kept a family of Rottweilers at a fenced-up area in his yard, and I was lucky enough to view these ferocious dogs. Three generations of canines dwelled at the kennel, sniffling and barking loudly at strangers. I saw grandpa Rottweiler, papa Rottweiler and mama Rottweiler roaming about with puppy Rottweiler. The man was nuts over dogs. He was something of a dog whisperer, able to command these big strong animals without getting mauled. Perhaps the secret is just to be narcissistic. Nevertheless, Cesar Millan would be totally proud of him.

Then something weird happened. He accidentally pressed up against my back. As he brushed against my waist, I felt a certain hardness behind me. It was only a fleeting second, yet my pulse had quickened slightly. Was it only my imagination? I could not tell for sure. It was probably the buckle of his jeans, and I was willing to give him the benefit of a doubt. He had such a warm aura of hospitality, and I felt somewhat secure in his residence.

Soon he invited me to tour his bedroom. We climbed the spiralling staircase to his private quarters, a place where Terri was forbidden to follow at the moment. The first thought that struck me as I entered his chamber was just how polished and boyish it looked. Besides the customary desktop PC, there was a bookshelf lined with rows of fantasy novels, and a huge closet. This was definitely the living space of a man very much driven by self-image.  

My gaze, however, rested firmly on the bed, an object of my speculation. To my knowledge, a bed expresses the personality of a man, and I was curious as to how it would reflect on Xin Yuen. The four-poster Queen-sized bed had clean white sheets, and a neat coverlet that was too boring to say the least. As soon as I saw the mattress, I realized that Xin Yuen was a guy that is not too concerned with physical comfort. He might as well have a cushion or a TV sofa for a bed. There is no finesse, no art in the construction of his private resting spot. In fact, it looked super Spartan. This bespoke of a rough-and-tumble character, one who does not smell the roses or rest easily on his laurel. My ears caught the sound of Terri climbing the stairs. Those tiny, furry paws that rustled against wood. Ugh-ugh. I need to remove my leggings now to prevent claw marks. Quickly, I sat on the bed and my butt sank into the yielding mattress, leaving a slight crinkle on the smooth linen sheets. As I began pulling off my leggings, Xin Yuen jerked suddenly and shifted his gaze away to give me a bit of privacy. His reaction was almost like a shy schoolboy, and it hit me like an electro bolt, awakening a sense of power within me. Suddenly, I felt like a naughty school teacher. The perversity of the scenario was quite titillating.

It did not help that he entered the bathroom for such an awfully long time afterwards. I was playing with his dog that finally popped up for a visit. Cute little Terri loved a nice, pampering massage. He rolled over lazily for the treatment. I began to hum a tune when the man came out of his washroom, saying “Let’s play some pool.”

Next thing I know, I was leaning over the pool table in a pathetic attempt to hit balls with a stick. It missed. Clumsy arms be dammed. They often refused to cooperate at the most critical moments, leaving me looking like a dork. Although I could really smack some guys around with my chess skills, pool is just not my cup of tea. The lion wrapped his fingers around my hands, enveloping my torso in an attempt to help me adjust the pool stick and coordinate its angle. We bent down on the pool table, eyes focused on the white ball. Once again, he brushed against my back, and I felt the unmistakable contact of something solid. This was the second time I had experienced it. Surely this was no coincidence? Was it a figment of my imagination? I stole a glance at his face, which betrayed nothing.

Confused, I contemplated my next course of action as he scored point-after-point with his trusty pool stick. It was obvious that this game was a stroll in a park for the man, the results being a foregone conclusion. Slowly, I felt a gnawing sense of boredom. A distraction was needed. And it was right there. Before my eyes. When he positioned himself at the edge of the table... I zoned in on the sight of his rear. It was a deliciously flat rear. And the moment he bent down sticking it up, the temptation was beyond resisting. “SMACKkkkk!!~” I delivered an immensely satisfying slap to the portruding rear of the man. FTW. This was a moment of victory for me, as I tried hard not to giggle like an idiot. It caused the molested pool expert to miss the ball, knocking it to a corner. Happily, I suddenly realized I could play dirty in order to win. A devilish idea emerged in my mind. Soon, I began trolling him, hovering behind his back to harass the player in hope that he would make mistakes. I was right. The quality of his game did deteriorate, but he was still able to end it with a few good swipes.

After the fun had ended, Xin Yuen settled in the couch, lounging in a state of languor. It was a moment of precious silence and Terri pattered up for another round of massage. I half-knelt, half-crouched to the level of the dog, lifting up the hemline of my dress by accident. Creamy thighs were exposed in the process. I could almost feel a pair of smouldering eyeballs burning holes into my back. A rustle of clothes and the man stood up from his couch.

“Come on. Into my room. I need to show you something.”