Fine. You want something hot and steamy to warm up your weekend? You got it.
The summer after high school I met a guy. Not just *any* guy, but a guy who was smart, funny, cute…He’d read some of the same books I had, had taken some of the same classes. I don’t date dummies as a general rule. (Date, no. Boink like a rabid weasel, sometimes, but never date).. The thing is, he was slated to enter the seminary that fall. The Catholic seminary. I knew this within a few minutes of meeting him.
That didn’t really matter – or maybe it just mattered all the more. He was bound and determined to get in enough sex to make it last throughout the rest of his cold, lonely life. He’d pick me up early in the morning, and he’d go to church. I’d read outside, or wander around the graveyard in back, or read in the graveyard out back. He’d come outside afterwards,drag me off into the bushes, and have his wild ways with me.
Oh that summer was crazy. The nearby church was out far enough in the boonies that they still left their doors open at night. I don’t know if they’d worked something out with F, maybe they knew he liked to come in and pray late at night. That wasn’t all that happened. We christened the pews, the choir loft, even the confessional. I drew the line at actually doing it on the alter. I figured there was no way to avoid being struck by lightning if we went that far.
The graveyard held the bones of his ancestors. We used the headstone of his great-grandfather as a brace more than once. Although those were the places that, to this day, win me drinks, we didn’t stop there. He had a Beetle, and I was still pretty flexible. Only once did he actually run the car up onto the sidewalk (and had to explain what happened to the cop a few cars back)…but it wasn’t for lack of enthusiasm on my part. Parks, more parks, parking lots, way out in the back forty of the nearby farms, anywhere we could get to, as long as I was home by midnight.