Chapter 5: The Taxi Ride and the Green Shirt

Alex blinked, clearly caught off guard as his gaze swept over her. But before she could lose her nerve, a warm, welcoming smile broke across his face.

“Sister Pat,” Alex said, stepping back to clear the doorway, his voice smooth and rich. “Please, come inside. I was so surprised when your dad called yesterday to say you were coming. To be honest… I was so happy.”

Pat stepped inside, taking a quick, sweeping gaze around the living room. It was a cozy, self-contained apartment, a spacious room with an adjoining kitchen and a clean bathroom tucked neatly inside. For a bachelor who constantly complained about having no free time, the place was surprisingly tidy.

Alex closed the door behind her, all smiles.

“Would you like any water? Do you need anything?”

he asked warmly.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Pat replied, her voice smooth and composed.

Alex nodded, gesturing toward the couch.

“Make yourself comfortable. I was actually

watching a series on my laptop before you came. How are your mom and dad? How is everyone at home?

“Everyone is fine. They’re doing great,” Pat answered, taking a seat.

“That’s good to hear. Hope your journey wasn’t too stressful? Did you manage to locate the place with ease?”

“Yes, mostly,” Pat smiled, keeping her voice light.

“Though the driver missed a turn at first and almost took me down the wrong street. We had to use G****e Maps to reroute, so it took a little longer than expected. Sorry if I kept you waiting.”

“No worries at all,” Alex said with a reassuring laugh.

Alex closed the lid of his laptop and set it on the coffee table.

“I really appreciate you coming,” he said. “Honestly, when your dad called yesterday, I thought he was joking.”

Pat smiled politely. “Why?”

He gave a small laugh. “Because you’re a student. Most people your age would rather spend a Saturday sleeping or hanging out with friends than helping someone scrub floors.”

She shrugged. “You do a lot for the church.”

“I just do what needs to be done.”

A brief silence settled between them.

Pat let her eyes wander around the apartment again. A stack of books sat neatly on one corner of the table. His shoes were lined up by the wall. The curtains were open just enough for the morning light to spill across the room.

“So…” Alex said. “Would you like me to show you around first? It’ll make it easier to know where everything is before you get started.”

She nodded.

He led her toward the kitchen, pointing out where he kept the cleaning supplies and where the laundry basket was tucked away.

Pat listened, but only half of her mind was following his words. The other half was busy noticing how ordinary he seemed outside church. No suit. No pulpit. No microphone. Just a man standing in his own home, talking about detergent and mops.

As they continued talking, Pat felt a dry thirst settle in her throat.

“Actually… could I please get a glass of water?”

“Of course,” Alex said immediately.

He walked into the small kitchen area, pulling a chilled bottle of water straight from the fridge.

Pat followed him into the kitchen on soft, deliberate feet.

Alex turned around, handing the bottle to her with a polite smile.

“Here you go, Pat.”

“Thank you,” she murmured.

She accepted it, unscrewed the cap, took a small sip, and then handed the bottle back to him.

Instead of stepping away, Pat closed the distance between them. Before Alex could react, she slid her hand right down the front of his shorts, wrapping her fingers firmly around his thick, growing erection through the fabric.

Alex jumped as if he had been struck by lightning.

He gasped, his eyes going wide with absolute shock, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. He scrambled backward, instinctively slapping both hands down over his groin to cover himself, staring at her in sheer panic as if a ghost had just materialized in front of him.

The heavy overall gown just dropped to the kitchen floor around her ankles. There she stood in her tight bum shorts and snug crop top, her braless nipples instantly poking hard against the fabric.

Alex just stared. His eyes locked onto her chest like he’d been hit upside the head. For a second, his hand twitched at his side, twitching like he wanted to reach out, maybe shove her back or grab her shoulders. But his fingers just curled into a tight, shaking fist. He looked frozen solid, caught dead between pure panic and a hard-on he couldn’t do a damn thing about.

Pat didn’t back off an inch. She stepped right closer into his space, letting that stolen perfume drift all over him. She watched his throat working, tracking every ragged, uneven breath he pulled in.

*You want it,* she thought, a dark thrill hitting her gut. *You’re scared shitless, but you want it just as bad.*

She saw the exact moment he broke. Only then did Alex turn away, not even saying a damn word. He walked slowly down the hallway toward his room, shoulders stiff, his hand gripping the doorframe like he needed the wood just to stay upright. His nice guy act was cracking right down the middle.

Pat stood there alone in the kitchen, heavy silence ringing in her ears.

*What the hell am I doing?*

The thought slammed into her cold. Her hands shook against the counter, fingers freezing despite the heat in the room. Eighteen years old, standing in a Sunday school teacher’s place, actually going through with the crazy shit she had only ever pictured in the dark.