When it’s discovered I’ve been fooling around with a boy, the deacons from my church give my pastor an ultimatum: excommunicate me or make me do a purity test. Furious, Pastor Andrew won’t let anybody else but him perform the test. Spread wide for my pastor on his desk, I take his two, thick fingers deep while our deacons watch.
I can barely hear myself think over the drumming in my chest. Slowly, I lift my legs up and prop my heels against the edge of the desk. I hold my legs closed and wait for Andrew’s signal to continue.
He nods once.
Lord forgive us.
I part my legs, spreading them wide open for him to see everything between them.
Andrew’s gaze slowly lowers until it stops right between my thighs. He’s totally still except for the ticking in his jaw where he’s clenching his teeth. His eyes darken, his features unreadable. My courage to keep my legs open flags under the weight of self-consciousness.
This is the first time a man is seeing all of me and it’s my pastor. I’m so glad I shaved two days ago. What is he thinking looking at my bare cunny?
Does he like what he sees?
No! He shouldn’t! He’s my guardian and I’m his ward. He’s supposed to be a man of God and I’m supposed to be a young woman pure of heart and body. We’re already toeing an ungodly line. Either of us liking any of this will put us firmly over into that forbidden zone.
“Any day now, Pastor Andrew,” Deacon Sanders says behind me. “The sooner you begin the test, the sooner it can be over.”
Andrew shuts his eyes and takes another fortifying breath. Then he draws closer on his wheelie chair until he’s right between my legs.