A Virgin in L.A.

A Virgin in L.A., Chapter 4: Stained and Delivered

Chapter 4-Stained and Delivered

     I was out of my element.

     I wore a sleeveless, demure top. It was suited to the heat and appropriate for the office, but I still felt like I should have dressed in long sleeves and a high ruffled collar.

   I was a bad Christian, slutty virgin, and fallen advocate of true love. To make matters worse, I was surrounded by "the good people." The genuinely good people. Didn't I say the quest for true love required a genuine heart? Well then these people were going to have a lovefest. And they were everywhere. All shapes and sizes, from all over the country, not just California. All converging on what seemed like the immoral epicenter of America.

     And they were in families.

     Not single. Not alone. Sanctified couples holding hands, parents carrying little children, teens crowding into special sessions. Thousands upon thousands. All "in the know."

     My stomach churned nervously. I almost wished I had followed Dr. Logan, but she went for serious Bible study, and I picked the sessions that had the highest potential entertainment value.

     Now I was alone, not quite basking in the spiritual light. I should have told her I was working this weekend. Hell, I worked every weekend. Why did I suddenly take one off?

     I clutched the slim conference schedule in my fist as I tried to find my way to a room where they were to discuss the blessings of human sexuality. I could have argued that the whole thing was a curse, when the speaker took the words right out of my mouth.

     I sat up a little in my chair, safe in the very last row of a crowded room of people, and eyed the young, attractive speaker. The bio on him said he was a former Protestant minister who gave up his congregation when he became Catholic. Hmmm. Tall enough. Nice body. Good suit. Not bad overall. I tried to spy a wedding ring from the distance. Couldn't tell. Just then, the large video monitor on the side of the room lit up for the people in the back. A medium shot of the speaker filled the screen. His left hand was around the microphone as he paced the floor.

     Damn. Big gold ring. I settled back to listen.

     "Now...Some call our sexual desires a curse. Heck! I used to. I was a slave to them. But I ask you, dear friends," he paused for effect, "does our Divine Creator hand out curses?"

     There were whispered responses of "no" from the front, and shaking of heads all around.

     "No!" The preacher cried, answering his own question.

     I jumped out of my seat as the amplifiers crackled at maximum decibels. The speaker's muscled arm, accented by a long, pointed finger was stretched out to a disciple in the first row, who was clearly on the fast-track to sainthood.

     "You are right, good brother," the preacher affirmed the man. "God does not hand out curses! God does not want us to suffer! God-" He looked around, "wants us to be happy!"

     Then he threw out an arm to the crowd and said, "Can I hear an 'Amen' to that!" It wasn't a question.

     The room shouted. It shook. My seat trembled. The schedule I clutched fluttered to the carpet as my hands gripped the only free edge of the chair underneath my thighs.

     "Amen!" The crowd roared.

     Holy hell! I wasn't in Kansas anymore.

                                                                                          #