Chapter 2

The next Sunday the youth was again in the first row, Ashley, Tammy, Tina and Emma from left to right, then a couple guys. Emma again was in front of me, offset just to my right.

It was an understatement that both Tina and Emma were distracting me from worship. The younger girl wore a softball style heavy t-shirt and form fitting yoga pants, with wavy light brown locks over her shoulders. Emma had her denim shorts that cut off just below her cheeks, her straight dark hair hanging to the middle of her back. My God, the things these young girls are allowed to wear to church these days will get an old man in trouble fast.

I had to save the image for posterity. I slid my cell phone out of my pockets, tilted it for landscape and quickly framed a shot. There’d a be a contrast of the large, closer figures in the foreground, viewed in shadow, against the smaller, further figures in the background basked in light. I clicked but realized I hadn’t gotten any of the girl’s legs, and those legs were the cause of the lust in my heart that morning. I had no room to back up, so I dropped the top of the frame to just above the girl’s heads. That was a keeper, as the image started mid-thigh and despite them being in darkness had their behinds tastefully represented. Hot young Tina in the first row, worship leader on stage, another hot young girl Emma, my wife singing on stage, and a youth guy on the far right. With a smile, the phone went back into my pocket.

When the call came out again for another round of high-fives I did not hesitate to raise my hand in Emma’s direction. Her smile lit up, my hand was slapped, and her gesture was repeated by the Tina in the yoga pants. Ah, but my girl had to tell poor Tina, “Ha! I got him first!”

I’d been playing a long game, but she seemed to be picking up the pace. It was time for me to make a bolder move, if just to keep up.

The church had been struggling with its relationship to the conference, so during the call to prayer both the head and assistant pastors went to the rail to be prayed over. A group of parishioners formed around to lay hands on them. Tammy and her friend Cara were on the left, hands on the pastor, and Emma did the same, just to their right. Ashley then started a second ring, left hand on Emma’s right shoulder, who had her hand on the pastor.

I waited a moment and joined the second ring, right hand on my granddaughter’s back and the other on Emma’s left shoulder. My thumb was over her hair and I could feel the heat of her body in my fingers and palm. Even as I continued to sing worship songs the effect was intoxicating. In seconds I was halfway erect. I thought that if there was ever a time that God would send down a lightning bolt to strike me dead, it was then.

I reminded myself to not move my hand. This was a laying on of hands. The person being prayed over rarely knew who’s hand it was behind them. For any plausible deniability there could be no caressing or groping, as I could be seen by the entire congregation and possibly was being caught on the streaming video.

I grinned when I realized the lyrics that passed my lips, “I am yours, and forever you are mine.” That reminded me of the old O’Jays song that went “Oh, baby, I want to love you, make it good, right down to the bone ... forever mine.”

After several minutes the prayers came to an end and hands were withdrawn. I took a step back, giving Emma space, but didn’t turn until I saw her do so first, so that our eyes never met but that she would know for sure who’s hand it was on her back, in the event she hadn’t already recognized my singing. A few seconds later we were both back at our seats.

September had arrived and with it high school football. The third week of the season her school was visiting ours on Friday night. I was still getting used to taking pics under the lights so preferred to be down on the field early, gathering most of my shots in natural light before the sun dipped below the horizon not long after game time.

I’d been wandering around on the concourse of our bleachers, taking shots of the cheerleaders and enough of the game to get some balance, when from behind me I heard a female voice say, “Excuse me sir, can you take our picture?”

I turned and saw I was right in front of a large student section, all dressed in red tees and sweatshirts. A rather attractive girl with long, straight dark brown hair and a big smile was waving at me. She was darker skinned but didn’t look black, more like Indian or Middle Eastern. A black girl with long braids was to her left and a blonde was on her right, giving me a thumbs up.

“I can, but how am I going to get it to you?”

“Oh, it’s just for fun!”

I clicked and nodded to them. Several called out, “Thank you!”

“Oh, thank you!” I replied, which got a few giggles.

I made my way down to the fence along the sideline. Our running back was in the middle of a scrum, the pile being pushed nearly ten yards down the field when I readied my finger to descend on the button. Suddenly I was poked in the ribs as a familiar voice asked, “Found anything you want to remember yet?”

I jumped and turned back to see her seeming very pleased with herself. Pressing the button to bring up the stored images, I turned the camera to show her the screen. “Thought it was going to be a good one, but seems I got all sky after being rudely interrupted.”