Authors: Abby Chance
Saint Bad Boy
Saint Bad Boy
Published by Abby Chance
Copyright © 2015 by Abby Chance
All rights reserved.
Ebook Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. All rights reserved.
Saint Bad Boy
the decision to give myself to the Lord at a very young age. I was 14 when it dawned on me that a life of discipline, faith, and chastity was right for me.
I developed real early. I grew C cup breasts by the age of 13 and developed woman-like hips later on that year too. Such a figure on a thin framed young girl like myself was a burden I was not prepared to take on. I remember the married men in my neighborhood staring at me with strange smiles on their faces as I walked to school. They weren’t the kind of smiles that you would normally see on people as acts of general pleasantries, but they were weird, twisted smiles that also came with a cold stare. A cold stare that I associated with predators at the zoo, like lions, tigers, and gorillas, which made me feel extremely uncomfortable.
One day, I asked my dad why the married men in the neighborhood always ogled at me as I walked to school. He was fixing the plumbing underneath the kitchen sink at the time. I remember him saying, “They think you are nice Jessie. They’re just happy to see you.”
“Well, if they think I’m nice how come they don’t say hello? They just stand there and stare,” I said.
“Sometimes a smile is just enough,” he mumbled, in a dismissive tone as he continued to struggle with the piping.
“It’s okay, I’ll leave you be.”
My father let out a deep sigh. “Wait, honey.” He then scooted out from under the cabinets where the sink plumbing was leaking throughout the entire week, and grabbed me by the shoulders, kissing me on the forehead and giving me a nice warm hug. He then asked, “Which neighbor stares at you every morning?”
“Well, pretty much all of them. But Frank does it the longest. It feels like he stares at my feet, then my legs, my chest, and finally my face. It’s a weird way of saying hello, don’t you think?”
His face became contorted in agitation as soon as I told him about Frank. He pursed his lips, let go of my shoulders, and without saying a word, bolted through the front door like a rocket. I ran to the living room window to see where my father was heading.
He headed straight to Frank’s house and knocked on the door, Frank answered the door with a smile. My father started yelling at him and grabbed him by his shirt. What have I done? I thought. All Frank was doing was being friendly. My father continued yelling at Frank and finally let go of his shirt. Frank’s face turned red and looked quite ashamed and embarrassed. My father pointed to the our house and Frank gave my father an understanding nod. After giving Frank a piece of his mind, my father abruptly turned around and slowly walked back to our house. I ran back to the kitchen as I didn’t want him to know what I had seen.
“Jessie!” my father yelled, as he entered the house.
“Yes dad?” I answered, as I quickly opened the refrigerator, hoping to not look suspicious, as I prepared to make a sandwich.
“Listen baby...” he said, catching his breath. “I told Frank to stop being a weirdo. He won’t stare at you and make you feel uncomfortable anymore. If he does it again, you let me know, okay?” he told me. Somewhat winded, he sat next to me on the kitchen table.
“Okay,” I said sheepishly. “Sandwich?”
“Sure,” he said.
That was the last conversation I had with my father before he died in a car crash the next morning on the way to work. He was broadsided in an intersection by a motorhome going 20 miles over the speed limit. Our family didn’t handle his loss very well and never recovered from the tragedy. My older brother who was away to college at the time, left us behind after the semester ended. He took a job as an electrician in the town next to the college. He gives us a call every holiday and we haven’t seen him ever since that summer he left for college, which was the same year our dad died.
For the next few years it was just my mother and me. She continued to be depressed after my father died and was not pleasant to live with. I found solace in the bible everyday after hearing my mother cry endlessly in the bathroom almost every other night. We barely talked to each other.
We attended church every Sunday after my father’s death. Mass kept me sane throughout my teenage years. It taught me to fight off temptation as I went through puberty—boy did it help. Every night I woke up and my panties would be soaking wet. I didn’t remember most of my dreams, which was strange. Occasionally, one would fight through the cavernous reaches of my brain and bubble to the top. I remember a crazy dream, where this boy named Tommy, who I knew in my biology class, was giving me a back rub. In the dream he slowly moved his hand down my white silk shirt, cupping my breast and trying to arouse my nipple with his thumb, lightly circling my aureola, then softly flicking my erect nipple. I wanted to fight off his advances, but the skin around the nipple of a girl my age is so soft, so tender, and so sensitive to the smallest touch, that it becomes very difficult maintaining self control. That was such a crazy dream. I didn’t look at Tommy the same way after that dream. I refused to talk to him. I refused to ever make eye contact with his beautiful, sharp brown eyes. The temptation was maddening. The good book helped me not act on my impulses, I resisted Tommy. I felt guilty for having such a dream but there was an incident that tempted to break my oath and dedication to the Lord more than ever and I continue to carry its burden to this very day.
t, during my senior year in high school, I was invited to a party, which was at this girl Chrissy’s house. I was never really into partying. I knew many of my peers would go to these get-togethers to drink, make out, or have sex. Despite my hesitation, since I knew how much of a slut Chrissy was at the time, I decided to go because my best friend Gloria didn’t want to go by herself, and she also begged me.
Gloria is half Indian and half white. She is exotically gorgeous. She has these beautifully shaped thick eyebrows, that hang over her large almond shaped eyes. She has long, voluminous, bouncy black hair and wicked fashion sense. She was on the track team, so she had a set of stunning legs, but had smaller breasts, unlike me. Even though we were both considered attractive by our fellow classmates, we were always seen as good girls who were obsessively focused on their future and who didn’t let boys get in the way of their ambition or families. By my 18
birthday, while everyone already had their minds made up on which college or career they would pursue, I had already made my mind up that I was going to join the convent right after graduation. I was dead set on giving up my life to serve God and God only. The Lord had done so much for me with the loss of my dad and all.
Gloria had a little rebellious streak in her, but she was still a virgin at the time. The worst thing she had ever done was get rubbed by her boyfriend Max, who she had known since the 4
grade. They had recently broken up and she was a free girl for the first time in her post-adolescent life. I remember Gloria asking me about going to the party during lunch on a balmy Friday afternoon. In her typical bubbly self she asked, “Hey, guess what? Chrissy’s having a party tonight, you want to go?”
“Chrissy? Umm...what kind of party is it going to be?” I asked, in a cautious tone.
“Look, I know she’s kinda wild, but Terrence told me it’ll be pretty chill. Everyone’s going.”
“Will there be drugs and alcohol?”
“I don’t know about drugs, but there will certainly be booze—stop being such a prude, Jessie! Just go and be cool for once in your life. No one’s forcing you into an orgy or anything,” Gloria said, chuckling to herself.
“Fine, but neither of us will get drunk or leave each other’s sight,” I said, sticking out my hand at Gloria for a shake. “Deal?”
“Deal,” Gloria said, shaking my hand enthusiastically.
That night I decided to wear something a little more daring than usual. To a girl like Chrissy it would have been considered a tad too conservative, but to myself, it bordered on daring. My dress was a tight, figure wrapping, black dress that was cut slightly above my knees. It wasn’t too short, in fact, if some stick-figured girl wore it, it wouldn’t even have caught a casual glance from men, but because I actually had some hips and a well endowed set of breasts, I knew it would be slightly eye catching.
Gloria picked me up in her dad’s Benz that night. Her father was a successful ear, nose, and throat doctor and would reward Gloria for her outstanding grades by letting her drive the family’s candy apple red S-Class on the weekends. As soon as I stepped into the car, Gloria exaggeratedly belted out, “Daaaaamn girl!”
“What?”I asked, carefully putting on my seatbelt.
“Girl, do you want to get laid tonight or something?”
“Umm...of course not,” I said, taking a quick glance at my dress. “What? Is this too much or something?”
“Every guy at this party is going to ask you for your number, you know that, right?”
I gave Gloria a worried look. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.”
“No...we’ll have fun. I promise I won’t stray too far from you,” Gloria said, lightly patting me on the lap.
“I can’t help it, you know?”
“Can’t help what?”
“Anything I wear that is somewhat tight, has a tendency to show off my figure. I can’t help it.”
“It’s a gift, Jess. I don’t know why you decided to become a nun. You have been given a gift, do you understand the power you have?” Gloria stated emphatically.
“No, I can’t start thinking like that. My father would have wanted me to stay focused.”
“I don’t think your father wanted you to become a nun.”
“Well, you and I can’t speak for him. Let’s just change the subject.”
Gloria grinned and drove a few miles over the speed limit on the boulevard. “Okay, I’ll change the subject. You know Jake, right?”
“The wrestler?” I asked.
“Well anyways, he’s going to be at the party tonight.”
“Terri says he has like the largest fucking dick.”
I covered my mouth and was shocked Gloria would tell me such a brazen revelation. “Oh my God. Why would you tell me that?”
“Oh Jess, shut up! I see how you look at him in physics class. You practically want to eat his face.”
“No I don’t!”
“Jess, it’s okay, you’re human. If you didn’t want to eat a guy’s face by your age, then you would be in desperate need of some major therapy or a lesbian—are you a lesbian?”
“You can have whatever guy you want...what a shame, Jess.”
I sulked in the passenger seat. I always became slightly uncomfortable whenever the subject of sex came up during my friends’ conversations. Yes, Jake was undeniably hot, and of course she was right, I did want to eat Jake’s face while in physics class, but I never was outspoken about my feelings towards boys. I kept my mouth shut and I wasn’t going to start being boy crazy a few weeks before becoming a nun.
We arrived at Chrissy’s house. It was a wild party. There were red cups strewn about the front lawn. There was a couch on the sidewalk that a couple was using for their make out session. We heard the music thumping as soon as we got out of the car. The neighbors must have had sound proof walls and windows, because the party was still raging undisturbed. Gloria gave me a cheeky smile as we walked up the walkway to the front door. I shook my head, giving her a look of disapproval.
“Come on Jess,” Gloria said, as she reached out her right hand at me. I hesitantly grabbed her hand and followed her into the house.
“Hey guys, come on in,” Chrissy greeted us as we walked into the packed house of revelers. She was wearing a tight, yellow mini skirt with a short, white cotton tee that exposed her midriff. I hated to admit it, but her legs were so long, and beautifully shaped. I could see why Chrissy, and her precocious red curls, were in such high demand from all the boys at school.
Brandon, who was Chrissy’s boyfriend at the time, came up behind her and started pecking at her neck. This guy was a stud too. He was dark skinned, which helped further define and outline his toned arms, and looked awesome in a pair of tight, weathered jeans. Brandon happened to be the star wide receiver at our school, and Chrissy squirmed as soon as he wrapped his arms around her.
“I have some margaritas, you want some?” asked Chrissy.
I gave Gloria a quick
and shook my head. Gloria gave me a playful punch on my shoulder and turned to Chrissy and said, “Sure, lead the way.”
As we walked to the kitchen, I realized Gloria was right: every guy at the party was checking me out with intense predatory stares. I felt a strange dichotomous sensation—one of severe vulnerability and a bizarre, awkward confidence. Most of the guys at the party all focused on me and not on Gloria, not on Chrissy; all eyes lasered at me. I instantly regretted my choice of outfit. I lowered my eyes to the ground as I followed the girls; purposely avoiding eye contact.
The kitchen in Chrissy’s house was an expansive one, just like the rest of her home. It had expensive black counter tops and high-end chrome appliances. Her father was a lawyer and her mother owned and operated a designer blouse boutique. They both had gone on a vacation to Belize and left Chrissy alone, oblivious to her sinful ways.
“Here you go,” Chrissy said, as she handed a Jose Cuervo branded margarita glass to Gloria, filled to the brim with the lime-tequila mix.
“Jess?” she asked. The strawberry margarita Chrissy had at the end of her outstretched arm was staring me right in the face. I shook my head and put my hands up.
“Jess? Come on, seriously,” Gloria said, in a dry, caustic tone.
I subtly tugged on Gloria’s blouse as we briefly turned our backs at Chrissy and Brandon. “I told you I wasn’t going to drink and frankly, neither should you,” I said, whispering softly.
“Jess, this is probably the last party we’re going to attend before we all go our separate ways. For once, just let loose and have fun on my terms...please?” Gloria pleaded.
Gloria was very persuasive. She was right; she had always done things on my terms. She always remained my friend despite my constant wariness whenever she’d invite me to a party or ask me to go out with a group of friends, which sometimes included a guy or two. I eventually relented, “One drink, okay?”
“Chrissy, she’ll take one,” Gloria said, sticking her index finger up in the air with gusto.
“Here you go, there shouldn’t be too much Patron in this one,” Chrissy remarked.
I reluctantly took the margarita glass from Chrissy’s hand. Everyone looked at me with delightful anticipation, as they waited on me, the good girl, the future nun, to take her first sip of alcohol. Brandon stoically grinned as he held Chrissy by her hips. Gloria’s eyebrows were raised as high as they would go and she egged me on, “Just do it...come on!”
“Fine,” I said, slowly placing the salted edge of the glass on my lips. The strawberry concoction entered my mouth, I instantly smelled the pungent, sweet smell of the Patron enter my nostrils, but was immediately overtaken by the sugary, fun, candy-like taste of strawberry margarita mix as it entered my mouth. I gave the group, who displayed elated expressions, a slight nod. “Not bad,” I said. “ I can’t even taste the alcohol.”
“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Gloria said.
“Wooooo!” Chrissy yelled, pumping her fist in the air. “Let’s go to the back yard, I want you guys to meet some peeps,” she excitedly said.
I gave the group a playful shrug and said, “sure.”
For the first time in my life I was disobeying the voice in my head that always led me down the path of purity. I wasn’t going to lie, I kind of liked it.