Chapter 5: The Taxi Ride and the Green Shirt

Alex pushed himself gently away from the door, his eyes lingering on the heavy plastic basket in my hand before shifting back to my face. The initial shock of my unannounced arrival seemed to be giving way to a strange, cautious awareness.

Let me take that for you, he said, reaching out to relieve me of the cleaning supplies. His fingers brushed against mine, sending a sudden, electric tingle up my wrist that made me swallow hard. You shouldn’t be carrying heavy things like this straight into an apartment you’ve barely stepped foot in.

It’s fine, Brother Alex, I murmured, keeping my voice soft and deferential, playing the part of the dutiful church girl to absolute perfection. My mother insisted I bring everything required. She didn’t want me arriving empty-handed.

Of course. Sister Ruth is always so thorough, Alex chuckled softly, leading the way further into the room. He set the basket down neatly by the small kitchenette counter. Sit down, Pat. Let me get you something cold to drink. You must be exhausted from the ride across town.

I lowered myself onto the edge of the modest two-seater sofa, smoothing the hem of my loose, button-down overall gown over my knees. My heart was still hammering a furious rhythm against my ribs, but looking at the way he moved—so casual, so completely unaware of the trap waiting beneath my clothes—filled me with a heady, dangerous confidence.

He disappeared briefly into the small kitchen area, the hum of the refrigerator cutting through the quiet apartment.

So, Alex called out, his voice echoing slightly as he rummaged through the small fridge. How have things been with your studies? Your father mentioned you’re deep into your second year now. Time really flies. It feels like just yesterday you were sitting in the back row of Sunday school playing with your phone.

I tilted my head, letting a small, knowing smile touch my lips even though he couldn't see me yet. School has been demanding, Brother Alex. A lot of reading, a lot of late nights. Sometimes you just need a break from the constant pressure of campus life.

I can imagine, he replied, stepping back into the living room with a chilled bottle of table water. He unscrewed the cap halfway before handing it to me. Campus can change a person. But looking at you now, it seems university life has only treated you well.

You think so? I asked, looking up through my lashes, letting my gaze lock onto his with deliberate intensity.

Alex paused, the polite smile faltering for a fraction of a second as our eyes met. He cleared his throat lightly, breaking contact and walking over to lean against the back of a single armchair opposite me. Well... you’ve definitely matured. Everyone at church talks about how fast the youth are growing up.

I took the bottle from his hand, my fingers intentionally grazing his palm. Growing up means learning how to get what you want, doesn’t it?

Alex frowned slightly, a flicker of unease crossing his handsome face. He opened his mouth to reply, but before he could form the words, I stood up from the couch. The heavy overall gown felt suddenly suffocating against my skin.

Without breaking eye contact, I reached for the top button of the modest dress.

Alex stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes widened in sudden, absolute horror and realization. Pat—what are you—?

I didn't answer. I popped the second button, then the third, letting the loose fabric slide off my shoulders and pool at my feet in a heap.

There I stood in my tight bum shorts and snug crop top, my braless nipples instantly poking hard against the thin fabric, every curve of my body bared right in front of him.

Slowly, deliberately, I walked very close to him. I closed the remaining distance between us, letting my hands slide right under and in between his legs, grabbing his dick firmly through his shorts.

Alex was startled immediately, jumping and gasping as if something bit him.

Alex just stared. His eyes locked onto my 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 me back or grab my 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.

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

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

I 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.

I stood there alone in the kitchen, heavy silence ringing in my ears.

*What the hell am I doing?*

The thought slammed into me cold. My 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 I had only ever pictured in the dark.

Yet, as I stared down the dark hallway at the door he had just slipped behind, that brief flash of panic dissolved instantly, replaced by a wild, bottomless hunger that roared through my veins like fire—a ravenous craving to tear down every single wall he had left and devour every piece of the holy man until nothing was left of him at all.