ON THE WAY

8 - Numbers

That is all she had from the five short days she had been observing him. She doesn't know his weekend routine, other than the fact he doesn't work unless he really has to. Rory wishes she also didn't have to work today because then she could be learning his Saturday routine. But she's just thinking about the money, thinking about how she can pretend to restock the magazines when she can actually just read through them to pass the time. After an hour of mental preparation, she gets ready for work.

She steps outside her house once she is ready and goes to begin her journey to work. She doesn't even get off of her driveway before she sees him. Her day has been blessed. She can now continue happily. He has just walked out of his house heading to his car, keys swinging on his fingers. He sees her about to walk along the sidewalk. He gives her a nod to say 'hello'.

"Hi." She smiles back awkwardly and slowly walks along.

"You working today?"

"Yeah." She stops to talk to him. She'd talk to him for hours even if it meant being late for work.

"Walking?" He asked. Now he even knew she pretty much always walked there unless it was torrential weather. So, was he too just wanting to converse with her? She nodded a reply. To which he nods back, scratching the back of his neck. And now it's awkward. "Want a ride?" He sounds like a teenage boy asking his crush if she wants to share a soda with him. Wait. Was he.. no, no. No, Joel Miller doesn't get nervous like this, surely.

Oh, but he was.

"I can walk." She doesn't want to be a burden. But she would very much love to be in his truck with him even for ten minutes.

"Let me give you a ride." The nervousness was gone, something more demanding. He had unlocked his truck, opening his passenger door for her. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, and she was loving it.

"You sure? Aren't you working today, too?" She had to play a little hard to get. She couldn't show him just yet she was totally head over heels, down on her knees, ready to do anything for him. She had never been desperate in her life, and she refused to show it.

"Yeah, but I can drop you off. It's on the way." He pats the door gesturing for her to get in. His face is a little squinty from the sun beaming down on it. She has no further arguments that she can think of in this moment. That stubbornness she was going to channel to push him was nowhere in sight. Her legs carried her straight to the truck, she mumbles a 'thanks' as she climbed in. She can see the little freckles on his face, the little wrinkles forming. The sunlight makes him look like something out of a chiaroscuro painting, more specifically Peter Paul Ruben's: The Fall of Phaeton. He closes the door behind her, and she swears she hears him mutter 'good girl' under his breath. And now she is angry at herself for submitting to Joel Miller. Honestly, her thoughts on this man are more bipolar than her father.

He gets in the drivers seat, starting the truck. He backs out the driveway, His arm rests on the back of her seat as he turns to look back. She is blatantly staring at his neck, his jaw line, the slight grunt he lets out as he turns his body to navigate the truck off his driveways. She's thankful that it's not a Sunday because the thoughts flowing through her brain are less than pure. Then again, she isn't religious, so what does that matter. If she were, she would wear a white dress, a little cross necklace, those socks with the ruffles. Her hair would be half braided out of her face, and a few whisps to frame it. She would wear a little denim jacket that in this moment, to be provocative, her dress just above her knees and she would play with her necklace as if she were to be actively reminding them both that she is a child of God. And the cherry on top. A virgin. Pure. Untouched. Just for him.

She now had the urge to go to church. Go to a confession and confess the sinful thoughts she was having about this older man to a priest. But then he would be the priest. He would step out of the confession box - no. It would be a curtain. And he wouldn't open it just yet. He'd talk her through some things, like foreplay, he would touch her under the curtain. And when she would see his face, see it was him. She'd be tempted to be baptised in her white dress in the water with him. Although they wouldn't need much water, her panties would be soaked through. He'd guide her to a back pew, telling her how good she was and how proud God was of her. Then he'd fold, he'd start telling her that he can't corrupt her, that she is the apple of temptation, her dress the snake, begging him just to eat her. And then he would. He'd eat her out in the back of his church.