The coolness of it in her hand. The muscle, or perhaps tendon, in her left forearm that was twitching quietly. She’d first noticed it two days after...William had been taken away. Sometimes it would stop for a few seconds, as though recovering, but mostly it just patiently continued its simple beat. For twenty-seven days now it had pulsed, intermittently, without sensation. Like a beacon. Like a reminder. Andrea finally looked up at the thing across the table from her. It was watching her with. "See you Sunday at church."I stretched out on the bed. The lingering scent of sex mixed with her juvenile citrussy perfume made me hard again, in spite of the guilty feelings in my head. She's only seventeen, I thought. She should be with boys her own age. I'm her Pastor. I should be giving her guidance in her life journey. Instead, I'm giving her orgasms. Lots of them! But, she makes me feel young again. Vibrant! Full of life. What should I do? Resign as Pastor? Move away before we get. More

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