Love and Liberation: A Christian Wife's Journey Into Sexual Freedom Read online

  Maybe when I shower in the morning…

  She fell asleep in his arms, happy and comfortable.

  CHAPTER 2

  Dina showered the next morning without spending too much time fingering her clit. Wash and get out. Gotta go.

  Mondays were typical of it and she always had such a hard time gaining momentum on a Monday for the rest of the week. By the time Friday rolled around, she would be in stride, but ready for the weekend. Then she would slide back into relaxation and be out of gear for the following Monday.

  She came out into the kitchen. "What do you think of coffee?"

  Josh was eating a bowl of cereal. It was all he ate for breakfast. "Coffee? Isn't that for old people who can barely walk?"

  She put a fist on her hip and gave him a look. "Your folks drank coffee."

  "Sure, but look how old they are. My father is fifty this year."

  She rolled her eyes. "How horrible."

  "I know, right? Like half a century."

  She shook her head. He had missed her sarcasm. "I think I'll buy a coffee-maker on the way home."

  "Whatever…" As if it were the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

  "Don't be like that; it's just coffee."

  "Sure. Then it will be Ben-Gay and Depends."

  "Yeah, right. Coffee will make me old. Sure."

  "It probably does."

  "It doesn't." But she was done arguing with him, even if it wasn't serious. "Wish me luck, I think."

  "Not sure you want the job?" He put his bowl in the dishwasher.

  She shook her head and said slow, "I don't know. We'll see."

  He stood there, hands on hips, leaned a little forward, as if ready to coach football or something. "Try to take the job."

  "If it isn't disgusting."

  "How can maid-work be disgusting?"

  She laughed. "Ever cleaned a toilet?"

  He snorted. "No."

  She grinned at him. "I clean ours Wednesdays. This Wednesday, you clean it."

  He looked horrified.

  ~ ~ ~

  Dina took off her uniform in the small employees' bathroom at the Wooden Ranch Breakfast House. She was not going to show up at the Strauss residence wearing her waitress uniform with its fresh stains. She came out wearing her white shorts and button-up blouse. She would have dressed better, but did a position as a maid really require better attire for an interview?

  "I'm off," she said to Betty.

  The manager waved, not looking.

  The neighborhood was at the edge of town in an older area just before it rose into the foothills. The homes had been around for decades and had been built not in tract fashion. Up in the foothills above them were the posh and new McMansion tract homes. Down where she was, a very deep tree-lined street heavy with shade showed very private and scattered homes. These were not mansions, but homes owned by people who didn't want to be noticed. Gates barred the driveways of most and thick hedges barred most of the yards of others. The homes themselves were large but otherwise not too architecturally thrilling.

  She pulled her Dodge Caliber up to the speakerbox. Am I supposed to press the button? Or do they know I'm here? She could see a two story home sprawling on the lawns and hiding amongst the trees. After waiting a moment, she pressed the button. "Hello?"

  Nothing for several seconds.

  Do I need to hold the button down while I talk?

  A slight crackle. A word floated from the speaker. "Yes?"

  "Hi, uh, Dina Lewis here about the job interview?"

  "Very good." There was a beep that cut off and then the gate was swinging open.

  She drove in, hoping the gate wouldn't shut on her car. The house was one of those broad-roofed styles that was probably forty or fifty years old. Even the roof was still wood shake. Brick and larger foundation stone and cement-work held brooding windows clean and deep.

  I shouldn't be here. This is way out of my class. She felt like a stupid little girl. She looked back at the gate; it was swinging shut. How would she get out? She looked back and the front door had opened. The drive widened at the front of the house so that cars could park along the lawn and still have room for other cars to pass. The drive was also wide enough to allow for parked cars along its entire length. Three or four homes could fit on just the driveway.

  Sighing as if trapped, she pulled to the left and parked. The lawn on the left of the car looked like something on a golf course.

  The man at the door stood waiting, door shut behind him.

  She walked up to him, looking him over. He was a stocky man, full in the face with not a hint of fat on him. He was brutishly handsome with intelligent eyes. But there was not the stiffness of a body-builder about the man. His hair was blonde and trimmed, though fluffy. He had a lithe grace about him that came through in his stance.

  She remembered instantly. Martial arts. A little bit of flexibility in the knees, the fluid motions that told of time spent stretching, the loose way the entire body moved. She had only made it to a yellow belt, but she remembered the moves of those who were proficient.

  He gave a very short nod, looking her over with a neutral eye from head to foot. "Hello, Dina, I am Sebastian. Come with me." He turned and opened the door, leading the way in.

  She followed in the wake of a very light and intriguing cologne.

  He said without turning, "I take it that it is Mrs. Lewis, then?"

  He noticed my wedding ring in that one glance. "Yes."

  "Very good. Through here please, and you can fill out an application."

  She was ushered into a small office lined with books, binders, cabinets and a series of hooks with keys. It smelled of Sebastian and leather. The chairs were wooden with leather cushions. Even the small chair she sat in was richer than anything she and Josh owned.

  I am so way out of my league. Am I still on planet Earth?

  Sebastian handed her a clipboard with a single and simple application on it. He also handed her a heavy silver pen – the kind of ballpoint seen in display cabinets for sixty dollars.

  She sat and began filling it out with a shaky hand. Is it too late to just call the whole thing off? She glanced up a couple of times. Sebastian had sat in his chair – the one that had squeaked on the phone the previous day – and was watching her face over steepled fingers.

  He said, "There's a tax box on the bottom. Leave the Social Security number off. If you're hired, you can fill it in."

  "Okay."

  He was pursing his lips with a look that said she wasn't going to get the job.

  She frowned, feeling scared, just wanting to leave and do something like wash dishes at some slop-joint or serve drinks in the evening to leering men with bad breath and bad teeth. Why is Sebastian looking at me like that? Am I ugly or something? Do I smell like I am just some cheap person? She handed him the clipboard. I feel cheap in here. Like a street-beggar having nerve.

  He lifted the phone, pressed a button and spoke into it. "Shall I bring the applicant into the sunroom?"

  She heard a voice but couldn't make out what it was saying.

  "Very good," he said. He punched another button and spoke. "Your wife is ready to interview the new applicant."

  A voice.

  "Yes, sir." He put down the receiver and stood. He said to her, "If you will follow me?"

  She rose. "What would I be cleaning? The guest rooms?"

  "I was going to show you if you survive the interview."

  That sounds bad. Are these bad people? If I fail do they kill me and dump my body down a well? "There's a maid for the other rooms?"

  "Indeed. Alice. But she is old and it is a little much for her. However, Mr. and Mrs. Strauss have a very kind heart and will not replace her as long as she can still work."

  Oh, maybe they aren't bad then. "Oh." She followed him through a dark entry and a living room twice the size of her entire apartment. The lights were off and she felt the cool movement of very good air-conditioning. The only light came in from the b
road windows that stretched the length of the room at the back of the house. The roof stretched so far out and low on the second story and the surrounding trees were so tall and thick that the windows were entirely in shade. She felt like she could collapse onto the thick rug and stretch like a cat. Maybe take a nap. There was a doorway into a short hall with a few doors. A couple of rain-slickers hung on pegs and a low open-faced cabinet held some shoes. He led her to the back door.

  It revealed a long and very bright room compared to the rest of the house. Built out as an add-on, the roof was glass and slanted. The long room was filled with flowers and ferns.

  There, sitting at an iron table with a phone was a woman clipping thorns from a rose stem. A vase of roses was beside her. She was wearing a shade-hat and auburn hair flowed from beneath it. She was wearing a sleeveless white dress and garden gloves.

  Sebastian spoke as the woman turned. "This is the applicant, a Mrs. Dina Lewis."

  Dina saw the woman's face. Oh… I've got this job. She broke into a smile. It was the rich woman who went to Crown Christian Fellowship - the one who had been hugged the previous night by Caleb at the door.

  Coming in from the other end was her husband, a smooth and intense man with easy eyes and an easy smile.

  But there is where things fell apart.

  "Oh dear," said Mrs. Strauss.

  Her husband frowned.

  Sebastian stiffened – still loose, but suddenly wary. "Should I escort Mrs. Lewis out?"

  The husband placed fists on hips and pursed his lips.

  Mrs. Strauss rose and put down the clipper and removed the gloves. She sighed heavily. "No, Sebastian. That will be all."

  "Ma'am?" He appeared confused. Something wasn't going right.

  But Dina was at a loss to see what or why.

  "You can go, Sebastian. I will talk to her in private."

  The husband spoke, "Melissa…"

  "Yes, I know. I'll handle it."

  He frowned, a commanding pose struck as if a naval officer on the prow of his ship. "Are you sure?"

  Melissa Strauss glanced back at him. "I am."

  Dina blurted out, "We go to the same church together."

  Melissa looked back at her and lowered her chin in a motion designed to impart disapproval.

  She snapped her mouth shut. What's going on here?

  The woman glanced at her husband and Sebastian and then waited. Both men turned and left through separate doors.

  Melissa gave her a half smile. "Well, then. This is something of a surprise. I didn't think we would pick up one of our own congregation as an applicant."

  "Did I do something wrong?"

  The woman's face looked amused. "Wrong? No, of course not."

  "Then why—"

  "We were trying to avoid involving a member of the church—"

  "Why would that matter—"

  "Do not interrupt me again." Melissa gave her a look. Satisfied Dina would remain quiet, she went on. "Walk with me and let's talk a little."

  "Okay." She felt more like a child than ever before.

  They walked along the rows of flowers. Melissa stopped and fingered the petals of one or moved the stem of another.

  "I am Melissa, by the way. My husband you saw was Donald. Sebastian called you Tina?"

  "Dina."

  Melissa nodded. "Dina." She walked a few steps and considered another plant. "What do you know of Caleb's beliefs?"

  Dina wasn't sure what the woman meant. The older woman was speaking slow and careful, as if testing waters. Was she hiding something? "Well, everything he talks about, I guess. I think I've gone long enough to hear most of his sermons. He has several themes he hits every year."

  "Yes, indeed. But I was not talking about his sermons."

  "Oh." Then what are you talking about?

  Melissa was quiet for a long time, shaking her head slightly. Then she said, "What do you think of sin?"

  "You mean, his message on it?"

  Melissa turned to her fully. She had a small leaf in her hand, a delicate thing she turned over and over in the fingers of both hands. "No, not him or his message. What do you – you as a person - think of sin?"

  That's a pretty tall order. "I don't understand."

  "When you think of sin, what do you think of first?"

  "Forgiven?"

  A small smile quirked on her face. "Good. Many people think first of evil and the urge within a believer to fight evil is strong and so many fight sin."

  "Shouldn't we?"

  Melissa squinted her eyes at her. "When we dwell in sin, we are in sin and under the curse of the law."

  "Oh, you mean like Pastor Mann's message. The one where we shouldn't be dwelling in the struggle of trying to be sinless? When God has forgiven them?"

  The smile broadened a little. "Correct."

  "Well, I can only live as I have been taught…"

  "You haven't been told everything."

  "I haven't? What do you mean? I was raised Christian all my life."

  Melissa turned and walked a little farther on. "That's part of the problem."

  What are you hinting? I'm not going to give up God to get paid as a maid. "Are you… one of those…"

  "One of those, whats, girl?"

  "One of those people who don't believe in Jesus?"

  Melissa laughed. "Heavens no, child. He is our savior."

  Dina let out a breath. "Whew, okay. I didn't want to renounce Him just to get a job."

  Melissa laughed harder and seemed a little more relaxed. "No, no. Perhaps I am being a little too circumspect. We all believe in Jesus here, but in a way you aren't used to."

  Dina felt her hackles rise. "He's God."

  Melissa placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry yourself, Dina. We're not cultists here or anything. I ask these things not to pervert what you already know. I want you to understand that. What I am saying is you haven't been told everything."

  "Like what?"

  "How many times have you heard a sermon on the vessels of destruction and the vessels of glory?"

  It sounded familiar to her, but she could not ever remember hearing a sermon on it. What would the sermon be about? What truth was there? "I guess never."

  "Right again. You won't hear it from any church you go to."

  "Pastor Mann…?"

  "Oh, he knows. But there are some things beyond what a typical church-goer can handle. So he keeps quiet about them."

  "Huh? Why is that?"

  "Come with me outside. Let's walk for a bit under the trees. It'll be a little cooler and I'll try to be clear to you."

  Dina followed the woman out.

  Melissa breathed deeply in the cool of the shade. A well-watered blanket of ferns crowded the tall and thick trees. "The Christian message is relatively simple; I won't go into it because you know it. But how simple it is escapes us. What we have allowed is the complication of things that should not be complicated. Our traditions and culture have shaped Christianity to be something it was not intended to be."

  Dina didn't know what to say.

  "For example, in certain parts of the world, Christians believe it is a deadly sin to expose the belly button."

  She laughed. "What?"

  "Certain East Pacific cultures."

  "I didn't know. There's nothing in the Bible about belly buttons."

  Melissa smiled at her. "Precisely. The problem is there are elements of what you think you know that are not in the Bible, either."

  "Like what?"

  "Perhaps I am not the one best suited to address that. I just wanted you to understand that it is culture, habits and tradition that make up what a lot of Westerners believe about Christianity. Would you have a problem working around those who believe somewhat differently than you, but not against anything in the Bible?"

  Dina couldn't see that it would matter. "Well, no. I guess not."

  Melissa stopped walking and turned to her. "It is easier said when you don't know details. But let's assume
you could. How discrete are you?"

  "Discrete?"

  She started walking slowly back to the house. "Not all Christians could accept anything different from what they think they know – even if scriptures say otherwise."

  "I doubt that."

  "An open mind is a quality aspired to by all but the most soundly rejected in practice."

  Dina was silent.

  "We would not want our beliefs to harm the faith of others."

  "Okay."

  "And you would keep to yourself what you do in our household?"

  "What about my husband?"

  "I would caution against it. But is he as willing as you to accept that Christians might be different?"

  "I don't know."

  Melissa leveled a gaze at her. "Then we would ask you to be discrete, even with him."

  "You would want me to lie to my husband?"

  The woman looked perturbed. "Not at all. Tell him you clean for us and leave it at that."

  "What is religiously different about cleaning?"

  Dina and the woman shared a gaze together, Dina questioning, Melissa searching.

  "Come, I will show you."

  CHAPTER 3

  Dina didn't know what she was in for. She followed Melissa back into the house.

  The woman stopped and turned. "We are very particular about cleanliness. We must have you free of anything infectious. We can talk about that after you see the guest rooms."

  "I shower every day, and I don't have the flu."

  "That's good of course. Come." She opened a door in the entry. A broad set of carpeted stairs led down. The walls were paneled wood and rich-looking.

  "Your guest rooms are down here?"

  "Yes." Melissa wasn't waiting.

  Dina reached the bottom of the stairs into a large playroom. At least, that's what it looked like at first glance. Black leather couches lined the walls. A few leather chairs sat on wooden floors. There was a black leather-covered barrel and a couple of odd stool-looking pieces of furniture. There was a large metal X against one wall and that's when the straps and restraints on everything clued her in. There was even a rack of implements on display. "Is this a dungeon?"