Travelogue

It didn't really take long for my dad to get loosened up, cracking jokes and otherwise holding forth. I started to be afraid that he was going to get all blunt and direct with Lila, and my fears were well-founded.

"So," he began, looking over at her. "Should we expect you to come spend the night sometime soon?"

I was instantly mortified. I had the sense to look over at Lila and throw her a please-forgive-me look, but she was looking right back at my dad, unfazed.

Her accent seemed to come out more strongly than usual as she told him, "Oh, well, I wish I could, but my parents would never let me do that."

My dad seemed truly perplexed. "Why's that?"

"Well," Lila told him in a quiet voice, "for one thing, they think I'm still a virgin, so they'd say it was unbecoming."

"But you're not, are you?"

I lost it: "Daaaad, jeez!"

Lila just smiled at him. "No, sir."

"Well," my dad continued, "if you two want to be alone, my wife and I could go out for ice cream later ..."

I cringed.

Lila held her smile. "No—thank you, but not tonight. We may want to take you up on that on some future evening, though."

My dad nodded, seeming to get it.

With that, we were off to other topics (my dad, for instance, could not get his head around the idea that Lila had not grown up watching much television at all, and had only seen a handful of movies), and my mom took an interest in the Summerall kitchen setup ("I've always wanted to learn to cook with a real wood stove!", she exclaimed, to which Lila invited her to come and check it out sometime).

At one point, though, my dad looked at Lila and asked, "You're about what, 18?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir. 19 in December."

"Your parents really believe, in this day and age, that you're a virgin?"

I face-palmed.

Lila just said, "Well, sir, that's how they act. I don't know whether they truly believe it. You know, they say around here that if a girl's still a virgin by the time she's 15, you figure her brothers must be gay."

Both my parents stared at Lila for a second, and then burst out laughing. I did too.

Lila smiled and shrugged. "I don't have any brothers, though."

—

During dessert, my mom got in on the questions. (In fairness, Lila didn't seem to mind being interviewed.)

"I like your outfit," she started.

"Well, thank you very much," said Lila, sincerely. "I don't get to wear this kind of thing very often, but I do like it."

"I noticed," Mom continued, "that it doesn't seem like the kind of thing the other girls in town might wear. Or the women."

"Yes, ma'am." Lila paused and then smiled at my mom. "Billy and I stopped on the way here, and I changed in a restroom."

"Oh, OK," said my mom, seeming to understand. "Your parents don't know that you have these kind of clothes?"

"I love my parents, and my family, and I love this place," said Lila in a quiet voice. "But it can be a little confining. We have certain ideas about how people should be, how they should dress."

Mom was nodding, listening carefully.

"If you're not from here—like you, or Billy—well, no one cares or holds it against you. But if you're someone like me who was born and raised, well, you're expected to follow the rules—dress a certain way, that kind of thing."

Both my parents were just nodding along.

"So please," said Lila, "if you don't mind, please don't tell anyone about how I'm dressed tonight. It'll get back to my parents, for sure, and they'll be upset with me. They have no idea I even own clothes like this."

"I understand," my mom said in a sweet, sincere voice, and she seemed to feel sorry for Lila. "Your clothes are all handmade, aren't they? I mean your everyday clothes."

"Yes, ma'am. I make mine myself."

"Really?" My mom sounded truly impressed. "I'd love to talk sewing with you sometime. I've seen how intricate those dresses are; it's amazing work."

Lila blushed, and whispered, "Thank you."

"I'm curious," my dad said, apparently looking to change the subject. "Have you ever visited anyplace else? A large city, maybe?"

Lila chuckled. "Not really. The next town over, that kind of thing. The junior college in Shiloh. Someday, though, yes sir, I'd love to travel. I've had these dreams."

"Where would you like to go?" my dad asked.

Lila glanced at me. "Europe," she said. "Spain and France in particular. I've seen some movies set there, and I think they're just about the most beautiful places I could imagine."

My dad started to tell her that we'd been there, but Lila interrupted: "Billy's told me all about what it's like. I've been thinking—this is just a dream, is all," and she smiled. "But I've thought of how nice it would be if your son took me there someday."

My mom cooed at that, while my dad said he thought it was a "tremendous" idea. (Sheesh, "tremendous"?)

I sent Lila a furtive, knowing glance, making it obvious that I would love to go on a trip with her. It seemed beyond imagination at that point.

—

We spent a little more time talking at the table, but then my parents got up to start cleaning the dishes. Lila offered to help immediately, and I even offered, too, to my parents' shock. But my mom told us we should go be alone together somewhere; she probably had meant my bedroom, but we went out front instead. We held hands, snuggled. The stars were rich and brilliant gems that night. We kissed. Crickets chirped.

"Your parents are very nice people," she told me. "For Yankees."

I gave her a surprised look, and she sputtered, laughing.

"I'm kidding, totally kidding. No one really talks like that." She snuggled into my arm. "And some of my best friends are Yankees."

—

I walked her home, of course; my parents insisted that she change back into her "civilian" dress in my bedroom before we left. "Safer that way," said Mom.

Lila clung to my arm the whole way home; something was changing between us, and in a good way. I kissed her softly at the door of her house, and we promised to see each other the next day.

I kicked dirt clods and rocks down the road the whole way home. Later, I changed into my pajamas, got in bed, put my Nexus photo app into Slideshow Mode, and watched photo after photo I'd taken of Lila. My cock was long and thick and hot in my hand, and after less than five minutes of looking at pictures of her, I came, hard.

—

The next day, I found out I needed a suit.

Everyone wears a suit to church, Lila explained to me, although she did at one point mention that this did not mean wearing a tie. ("I don't think my dad owns a tie," she mused.)

I did own a suit; it was a dark-colored one I'd worn to my Great Aunt Silvia's funeral a year before, and I was pretty sure that it would still fit me, although I wasn't convinced that charcoal gray was an appropriate color for mid-summer. My mom helped me try it on, and when it needed adjusting, she took it to her sewing station.

I stood there with Mom wearing a jacket, a dress shirt, underwear, no pants. Mom was doing something to the pants on the sewing machine.

"So funny that you want to go to church," she was saying above the annoying whir. My parents were agnostics.

"I just want to be with Lila," I said, semi-shouting.

The noise stopped, and my mom handed me the pants. "Try that," she said. "Is Lila religious?"

"I don't really know," I said, pulling them on and buttoning. "Her family is, but I get the idea that she's not. I mean, she doesn't really say bad things about it, but she just doesn't seem like she actually believes."

My mom nodded, judging the fit. "I wouldn't be surprised," she said. "Lila seems like a bright young woman, and it wouldn't shock me at all if she's formed her own ideas."

She stood up and tugged at my waistband. "Yup," she said. "How does that feel?"

"It feels OK. It's not tight anymore."

"You'll need to borrow one of your dad's ties again."

"Oh," I said. "A tie?"

"With a nice suit like this, you need a tie. And if we pick a bright color, you won't look like you're going to another funeral."

I didn't bother to argue.

—

When I woke up on Sunday morning, I decided I'd better fap. Sitting for an hour next to Lila was bound to give me huge wood, and it would definitely make a tent in my suit pants—bad form for church. For once, I didn't grab my Nexus and set it to slideshow; I just closed my eyes, pulled my cock from beneath the sheets, and started thinking about her. The mental image of her breasts, full and round, standing out from her chest, was enough to get me really hard. The thought of her leaning close to kiss me, her smile, her smell, and what her fully bare body might look and feel like up-close—that was all it took to put me over the edge.

I cleaned myself up and took a shower. It took a few minutes to get the suit on and looking right, and I wrestled with the tie for a couple of minutes before I got it knotted correctly. Shoes on, hair combed, and I was out of there.

—

The family was out in the front yard, ready to go, when I showed up. Lila's brothers-in-law and her dad all made a big deal out of my suit; they were dressed up, too, but their suits were more casual, country-style and not as expensive-looking as mine. Sam did have on a string bowtie.

"Lookin' sharp!" they chortled. "Snazzy!" It wasn't mean-spirited, and I grinned along.

"Seriously, Billy, you look really nice," Mrs. Summerall told me, patting me on the shoulder.

Lila came up next to me and took my arm. "You look like a stud," she whispered in my ear. "Hot."

She and her sisters were all wearing hats and formal dresses with lace and stuff; they all looked pretty. Esther's tits really stood out and bulged in her dress.

The walk to town took about 10 minutes; I suppose we could've driven, but no one even mentioned it. Walking there was the tradition.

It was pleasant; I always liked walking with Lila, and it was fun to be dressed up together, her arm in mine. We talked some. It felt good just to be together, and it felt good to be together when we were with her family.

—

"What are you thinking about?" Lila said, giving me a little smile. We'd been quiet for a couple of minutes; we were still only about halfway to the church.

"Oh," I said. "Um—nothing important. Just something kind of stupid."

"What is it?" Her smile broadened. "It's OK, I'm just always curious what you're thinking about."

"Well, um." I lowered my voice. "OK, I was actually thinking about that top you have, that tube top. I was trying to decide whether I like you with a bra or without one." I glanced at her. "Please don't be mad. I think about things like that sometimes."

It took a second, and then she giggled softly. "You like that top, huh?"

We let the others get ahead of us a little.

Lila said, "Obviously I wear a bra to church—you know, for modesty and that kind of thing, but really the other reason is with all the small kids and babies I have to wear a nursing bra and put in some pads. I'm not working in the baby room today, but the pads are more comfortable in my nursing bras than in the regular ones, and I have to wear them. 'cause, you know, when they cry, sometimes you can hear them in the sanctuary and stuff."

I just looked over at her, not understanding.

She nodded, realizing this, and explained: "If I hear babies crying, or even small kids, sometimes I'll leak a little milk. It's a natural thing; it happens to my sisters, too."

"Oh. OK." I was marveling a little; I was starting to realize how potent female physiology really was.

"I just don't want to take a chance. At home I can just clean myself up, but in church, it's not that easy. So I have nursing pads to, uh, absorb it." She gave me an impish grin: "So did you decide which way you like me better?"

"Not really. You're just hot; I can't decide."

I saw her smile. We were quiet for another minute or so.

Very softly, she said, "Wanna know when I always leak?" Then, in a whisper, "When I'm diddling myself and thinking about you."

—

The church building was at the edge of town, a large, white, old-fashioned affair with a high, traditional steeple. I noticed that there were two main doors, and then I noticed that only men were entering the door on the left, and only women were entering on the right. Strange.

The entire town population seemed to be there—I was just figuring out right then that it was the only church in town—and everyone was indeed dressed up. I recognized Clara Ann and Eva Lee as they entered the right-hand door, wearing long, formal dresses with full-length sleeves; it was funny to think that I was a lot more familiar with them naked than in this kind of proper, respectable clothing. I looked to the left and thought I saw Tommy, one of the guys from the lake.

We'd stopped for a moment, the whole Summerall brood.

"Well," Lila was saying, her face near mine, "see you in a bit."

She, her sisters, her mother, her cousins, and her young nieces and nephews all walked to toward the right-hand door; I wanted to shout "come back!" or at least ask what was going on, but it was happening too fast. I wasn't even sure what was going to happen to the babies and toddlers. (They went to the nursery, I found out later, which is a literal nursery, breastfeeding babysitter services provided. Lila volunteered there occasionally.)

"Come on, there, Billy," said one of the men, and then we were walking over to the left-side entrance.

Inside the church, a pipe organ droned, and people were all sitting down. The left side pews were all men, and Mr. Summerall led us to about the fifth pew back and we scooted down and sat. The old wood creaked, and it shifted slightly; I worried that the pew might just collapse. Meanwhile, Elijah and Samuel, sitting on either side of me, were reaching around to shake hands with various other men they knew. The sanctuary smelled old and musty.

I just sat there, starting to fume. Why the hell was I here if I couldn't sit with Lila? I sure as fuck wasn't here to be preached at. I'd never actually been to a church service in my whole life, save for going to my friend's confirmation service when I was 11, and I barely remembered that.

The organ got loud, the pastor appeared, and we all had to stand. I shared a hymnal with Samuel, and sort of half-heartedly tried to sing along, although I didn't know the melodies. Then we sat, the pastor did some talking, and then the choir sang a hymn, and then there was more talking.

I was bored and angry beyond words.

As the pastor started his sermon, I decided I was going to calm myself down by looking for Lila. We were supposed to be paying attention up front, of course, so I had to be stealthy about it. It was really hard to see over the sea of heads to the women's section, which was yet another sea of heads. I couldn't find her or any of her family over there, but I kept sneaking looks, figuring it would keep me busy.

The pastor was talking about "cleanliness of the tongue" which at first I took to be a call to dental hygiene, and then came to understand as a lecture about not swearing. Well, fuck that shit. Fortunately, it was not a long talk, and then the pastor said something about a flock of sheep at the gates, bearing messages of importance.

I have no idea why churches feel it's so important to talk like it's the 16th century. Was there really something that fucking holy about those years? I don't understand.

There were three young women in line to get to one of the lecterns in front, and I recognized Lila as the third. I smiled broadly: I'd found her!

The first girl took the lectern, clearly nervous. She cleared her throat, then said, "From Psalms chapter 37. 'Trust in the Lord and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land and feed surely on His faithfulness, and truly thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the Lord, and He will give thee the desires and secret petitions of thy heart.'"

OK. I mentally shrugged.

She shirked away, and the second girl, a pretty blonde, announced, "From Isaiah chapter 66. 'Rejoice ye with Jerusalem and rejoice for her, all ye who love her; be exceedingly glad with her, all ye who mourn over her, that ye may nurse and be satisfied with her comforting breasts, that ye shall suck and be delighted with her bountiful bosom.' For thus saith the Lord, 'Behold, I extend peace to her like a river, and the glory of the nations like an overflowing stream, and ye shall be nursed, ye shall be carried on the hip and fondled on the knees.'"

The blonde receded, and now here was Lila. She didn't seem nervous at all. "From Song of Solomon, chapters two and eight," she said in a loud, clear, articulated voice, sounding much more mature than the other two.

"Oh that thou were like the man who nursed at my bosom! If I found thee outside, I would kiss thee, and none would despise me. As an apple tree amongst the trees of the forest, so is my beloved amongst the young men. With great delight I sat in his shadow, and his fruit was sweet to my taste. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love. Sustain me with raisins; refresh me with apples, for I am sick with love. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand embraces me."

Lila retired, and all three of the girls disappeared. I was sad to see her go, but it had been fun watching her do public speaking.

The pastor was up again, rambling about something, and then I heard the organ come up in volume, and his voice got kind of loud. He was gesticulating.

"O ye pilgrims, hear and rejoice! The Lord your God has found favor amongst ye, O beloved! Cross now over and find favor in a new heaven and a new Earth, for the Lord your God hast preparest a table in a new life now and forever. Amen."

At this, everyone around me stood, and I scrambled to my feet to join them. All the men were turning, and Elijah whispered, "It's the Crossing Over, Billy. Time to go."

I had no idea what was happening, but I just followed along and faked it. We were headed to the right side of the church, and I saw that the women were heading to the left, our direction. From my point of view, this became chaos, although I'm told that it's quite orderly and that there's a simple pattern to it. At any rate, all that mattered to me was that I first saw Eliza, who pointed at me, and then Lila, all smiles. The men and women were all merging into couples and small groups, and Lila's sisters made sure that she and I were pushed together. I wanted to hug her, but I controlled myself.

We all sat down, a fully integrated audience. Lila and I were on the edge of the right-hand side.

There were a couple more hymns and the choir sang once more. The pastor gave some general announcements, there was an offering (I tossed in a couple bucks, couldn't hurt), and then we were reminded of the "Common Meal" following today's service.

And then we were done; Lila and I held hands on the way out.

"Well," she said to me, quietly, "you've been baptized."

I looked at her, not really understanding. She just smiled, her eyes twinkling.

Outside, people were all sitting down at a series of picnic tables that had sprung up sometime during the service. Most of the younger people were at a couple of the tables, socializing and fooling around (Tommy was standing on his chair, yelling something crazed and indecipherable).

"That's the Common Meal," Lila told me. "It's just a pot luck dinner." She looked at me. "We're not staying."

I was about to say that I was pretty sure I'd seen her mom, dad, and at least one sister sitting down, but Lila emphasized: "WE are not staying."

She smiled and squeezed my hand, and I understood.

—

We stopped at the ranch house for a second, and Lila took off her hat and freed her hair from clips, then grabbed her tote bag and some snacks from the ice box. We headed out to the dirt road toward the woods.