HOLY SEX Episode 1

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Your pastor secretes holy milk.

That is the story being whispered by everyone in the church—choristers, ushers, and the women. They say he is God’s anointed. A man anointed by God must have all his body parts and fluid blessed, too. With just a wave of his hands, people fall in multitudes, and when he talks, the breeze ceases and the roof trembles.

He orders a member of the church to command the crippled to rise, and the cripple rises and walks. He lays his fingers on the eyes of the blind, and the person sees. He touches a widow’s sick son, and the sickness evaporates. The widow receives holy milk from him, too, and that is not a problem because he is the anointed one. Who can say no to God’s anointed?

Your pastor secretes holy milk and that is why every Sunday, women who were barren come to give testimonies of what God has done for them.

‘If not for Pastor Samuel, there would be no baby suckling my breasts! Praise God!’

‘Hallelujah!’

It happens every Sunday.

Now, every Thursday, a special prayer session is held for barren women and those who need special blessings from God. If a woman has been barren for long, she is asked to wait behind for special prayers; she has been found worthy by God—your pastor ministers to her in private.

You have been attending the church for four months—that is how long you have lived in this new city. Saving Grace, Incorporated is located in the heart of Lagos, the gigantic edifice a magnificent sight to behold. You are attracted to the church because of the aura that surrounds it. At your new office, everyone talks about it. Every young lady who loves fashion knows that the things in vogue are Blackberry Z10, Saving Grace, Inc., and pinging dresses, in that order.

Your pastor is handsome, with comely facial features—a finely chiselled nose, clear white eyeballs enshrouded by long eyelashes, and full, sensuous lips. His broad shoulders fill out his designer suits, and when he does not wear a tie, his 22-carat gold neck chain sparkles in the reflection of the glass pulpit. Every lady in the city loves to sit in his church, listening to his melodic voice and basking in the intense stare from his glistening eyes as he surveys the faces he admires. His long fingers swipe his iPad’s screen as he preaches.

The first time you attended Saving Grace, Incorporated, you fell in love with your pastor. Not with carnal passion, but deep reverence, the kind one feels for spiritual leaders. But now, you cannot remove your eyes from his face, his suit, his shiny black shoes, and his iPad. You love the way he walks, with elegance and poise. In his church, your soul finally finds rest, like a hare thirsting for water. Your soul yearns for his words and his gaze as they linger on you the three times you go for offering before the end of the five-hour service.

Now, you dream of him on most nights. You see him standing before the congregation, holding his iPad, his left hand resting on the pulpit. In your dream, his face looks angelic, his black suit and white starched shirt sparkle like the robe of Jesus Christ. When he notices you, he drops the iPad, walks down the aisle to the pew you are seated in, and you stand as he bends to bring his lips to yours. Sometimes, you dream that after kissing him, he walks down the aisle with you, people clapping and singing:

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Here comes the bride! Parararam!

Here comes the bride! Pararararam…!

TO BE CONTINUED