The Cult

I loved her smile. "Better now. You gonna stick around?"

"For a bit. I've got to catch a show later."

She bit. "Anyone I know?"

"Comedy act. Zach Galifianakis is at the Improv." The name obviously meant nothing to her. "The fat guy from The Hangover. The one that causes all the trouble. Great stand-up routine."

She gave me her patented pout. "Pooh! I figured tonight I'd break you down for sure."

"You'll get your chance. I'll be around for a bit."

I watched her turn toward the stage. "Don't leave yet. I've got to do my turn on stage, but I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Alright. But I can't stay long."

She blew me a kiss, then took off for the back rooms.

Maria heckled me for toying with the girl, but I gave her my most innocent look. "I enjoy her company. She's a sweetie."

"She is. Don't screw her over. If you just want to get laid, Darla or Raven will be cheaper, better, and you won't be breakin' any hearts."

It was the first time she'd ever been anything other than friendly. "Relax Maria. Really, if that's what I wanted, the deal would have been done already. I like her."

She gave me a look, then marched off in a huff.

Bethany's show was good. She had the moves and knew how to get her audience involved. It was an enormous improvement over her first couple of nights. She had a great body and was both graceful and athletic. She looked my way often, and I felt she was making a special extra effort for me. She left the stage with her panties stuffed full of bills, her hands clutching dozens more.

It was a while before she reappeared, and I watched her stop and talk to Mario, the manager, before returning to me.

"How did you like it?" she asked.

"You were great. Every guy in the place wanted you by the time you were done."

She grinned, raising one eyebrow. Cute trick. "Every guy?"

I grinned back. "What red-blooded male wouldn't?"

"Can I dance for you?"

"I think you just did."

She giggled. "You know what I mean. In private."

I shook my head slightly. "You are a stubborn one, aren't you?"

"Absolutely!"

I looked at my watch. "I really need to leave soon. But I may just take you up on that, soon."

She squirmed, then blurted, "Need company tonight? We're overstaffed, and I could slip away. Mario doesn't mind."

"Sure. I'd love the company. You sure you won't get in trouble?"

"Nah, it's not like it's the weekend. Give me a few minutes?"

"I'll be waiting outside."

* * *

As we left, I told her I needed to stop by the house to grab the tickets. I could see she was suitably impressed with the estate from the moment the large wrought iron gate slowly swung open. She gawked at the entrance and the large front facade depicting the nine ancient muses in bas relief.

"Welcome to Corycia. You can come inside if you'd like. I'll only be a second."

She followed me in and looked around like she'd never been in a house before. The tickets were on a table near the entrance. I grabbed them and hustled her out the door before she could get any questions out.

In the car, her restraint evaporated. "Wow! You live here?"

"A man's gotta live somewhere."

"It's huge! How many roommates?"

"Counting Hercules, one."

"Hercules?" she asked.

"My dog."

She peppered me with questions, most of which I deflected, asking a few of my own. I talked a bit about my college days, and about my writing.

"What are you writing now?"

"I'd love to tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," I told her, feigning seriousness.

She was taken aback, then giggled nervously. "No, really."

"Maybe once you've danced for me, I'll tell you."

That shut her up for a while. But she never stopped grinning.

* * *

Zach was hilarious, but the show wasn't long. I had reserved a table just off the stage, which got us involved in a couple of jokes, but nothing too painful. Clearly Bethany loved the attention.

As we drove back, we talked about his humor. Some of it was a bit intellectual, and I had to explain a few of the jokes, but we had a good time.

"Drop you off at the Club?" I asked when we turned off the highway.

She suddenly seemed shy. "Why don't we go to your place for a drink or something?"

"Something?"

She blushed. "It's early. I'm having fun. I'd just hate for the evening to end."

I reached over and patted her on the thigh. "Alright. Why not?"

At the house, I made us a couple of drinks, and we sat on the couch talking. I knew from Maria, and from our discussions, that she was a little religious, but had bounced from church to church and was having a theological crisis. Even though I hadn't stepped foot inside a church in the last decade, I figured the dozen years of bible school Mom had subjected me to, combined with nearly a Major's worth of Archeology, Psychology and a Bachelor's of Sociology might finally pay off.

We discussed the nature of religion, God's intention for us, the Bible, and various mystical and magical concepts. Her knowledge of the bible was very elementary, and she seemed impressed with my ability to spout passages on a whim. What can I say? I've got a good memory.

I was playing with her, telling her about the Bible's history. "What do you know of the Gospels?"

"Matthew, Mark, Luke, John. I've read them completely, but some of it's hard to understand," she confessed.

"What about the lost Gospels?"

"Lost?"

"You know. There were probably around twenty Gospels altogether, most of them lost. Matthias, Peter, Judas, the Nazarenes."

She looked sufficiently confused. I excused myself and retrieved a few books from my Grandfather's library. He'd been fanatical about ancient writings and had quite the collection. I was going to play on that. I showed her some of the references, in English translations, and in Greek, doing the translation myself. She seemed suitably surprised.

"How come I never heard about these?" she asked.

"It's not secret knowledge. Biblical scholars know all about them, but they're not common table talk." I was ready to tease her some more.

"I think I can trust you, Bethany. Can I?" I lowered my voice to sound mysterious.

She nodded vehemently, crossing her heart. "Completely, I swear."

"Wait here."

I retrieved some of Grandpa's oldest parchments and returned with them. "Have you heard of the Gospel of Mary?"

She shook her head.

"It's one of the rediscovered Gospels. They found a partial Coptic translation a few years ago, but it's very short. It shows Mary, probably Mary Magdalene was a very powerful disciple, but she had a falling out with Peter." I laid out the scrolls. "This is what I'm writing about. I have a nearly complete copy of her Gospel, written in the original Greek, as well as a previously unknown text. It's amazing. And nobody knows about it but you and me."

"Really?" She gawked, leaning over and trying to make out the writing. It was actually an early history, but hey, it sounded good.

"Yes. I was looking for something else, but it practically fell into my hands. Once I started to translate it, I was worried that it might be too much for the Church to accept. It turns much of our understanding of women in the ancient world on its ear."

She reached out and touched it with a trembling hand. "What does it say?"

"I'm still working on the translation, but I don't know if I'll ever publish it. It's too controversial. Especially how I found it. I know that will never be believed."

She turned and stared at me. "Why? How did you find it?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't think I should say."

She scooted closer. "Please? I won't tell. I promise."

I laughed, resting my hand on her shoulder. Then I made myself go very still, staring off into the distance. I stayed quiet for a long time while she watched me. I held the pose until she was squirming nervously. Then I shook my head and looked into her eyes. "Alright. He says you should be trusted."

"He?"

"God. He speaks to me. He told me where to find it. I was in the mountains of Turkey, near Syria. He led me to a cave, where I found several ancient sealed pots. These scrolls were in them."

It was just a joke. I wanted to see how long she'd fall for it, but I was surprised at her reaction. She practically leaped off the couch, scrambling away from me, staring wide-eyed.

"What's wrong, Bethany?" I asked, ready to confess to the prank.

"I ... I shouldn't be here. Not with you. I'm sorry I tease you about dancing. I didn't know."

"Didn't know what?"

"Please!" She cringed. "I know I'm a sinner. I'm not a good person." Her eyes were brimming with tears. "Please, Joshua, I have to go."

I reached out for her hand to console her. "You are a good person. What you have done so far with your life means little. Look at Mary Magdalene. She was one of Jesus' most important disciples. Many claim she was a prostitute, and full of sin, and yet Jesus cleansed her of seven demons, and it was she who was with him at the crucifixion, the burial, and it was Mary who discovered his empty tomb."

She had dropped to her knees beside the couch and was openly weeping. I felt lousy getting her so riled up. "I have demons," she sobbed. "I try to be good, but I keep doing bad things. Look at me, trying to seduce you, throwing myself at you. God, I'm so sorry."

I reached out for her but she pulled away, nearly knocking over the coffee table, with the scrolls displayed. She shrieked, steadying it. "See? I could ruin those, destroy something so important. I ... Please, Joshua, let me go."

I had to settle her down. "Stop it, Bethany!" I snapped. She quieted. "Now sit here beside me and be quiet."

She climbed back on the couch, sitting nervously.

I closed my eyes and thought about how to fix what I'd screwed up, with my mindless prank. I didn't think she'd handle the truth well at that moment, so I dug my hole deeper.

"You are not bad. God wouldn't have directed me to you. He chose you for me, sent me to find you. I didn't understand His intention. Now I believe I do."

"What?" she asked timidly.

"You are meant to be the first. The first woman to hear these holy scriptures. He wants it that way."

"Me?" she asked, incredulously. "Why me?"

"Why does the sun rise in the east and set in the west? It is His will." I looked past her again, staring off into space.

"Is ... Is he talking to you now?" she whispered.

I waited a few more seconds, then turned back to her. "Yes. He spoke to me. He wants you."

"I don't understand," she whimpered.

"Mary is the patroness of wayward women. He believes you could be headed down that road. No longer."

She stood up and started pacing. "I can't, Joshua. I just can't. I'm not smart enough to understand this. I'm not worthy. Please, choose somebody else."

I stood and went to her, taking her in my arms. "I didn't choose you, Bethany. It's not my choice, and I cannot change His. I wouldn't try to. Would you?"

She was shivering uncontrollably. "No." She looked up at me, tears filling her eyes. "Your will be done," she whispered.

The reference wasn't lost on me. "I know this is a big shock. It was for me. Would you like to stay here tonight? I have plenty of room, and the guest room is always ready."

She spoke so softly, I could barely hear her reply. "I'll have to call my sister."

"Call her."

I showed her to her room and pointed out where the bathroom was. "Make yourself at home. You know where the kitchen is if you feel like a snack or a drink. I'm right down the hall if you need me."

I went to bed, still stunned by her reaction, and feeling more than a little guilty over what I'd started as a joke, and where it had led.

I was more surprised when I was wakened by Bethany climbing into my bed. "Bethany?" I asked sleepily.

She slid up next to me and took me in her arms. "I was praying to Mary Magdalene and I felt you might need me. She was Jesus' lover, wasn't she?"

"It is commonly accepted that she was his companion."

"Maybe that's why I was brought to you. To be your companion."

I held her and realized she was naked. It was tempting to have her, but my guilt was working overtime. This wasn't how I'd seen it playing out.

"If so, He hasn't told me." I held her, hugging her close. "I'm celibate, Bethany. Ever since I was given these scrolls. I don't believe it's His intention to change that yet."

I'll be damned if I know why I took that route.

She pulled away. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

I pulled her close. "It's okay. Stay here. Hold me. He loves you and wants you to be happy. I want you to be happy. You're a beautiful woman, and if I were to be with anyone, I'd be ecstatic if it were you."

She clung to me, lifting her leg onto mine. She cuddled in close. Too close. Her leg strayed too high and discovered my hardness. "Oh, Joshua! I didn't mean to do that."

I laughed softly. "You do that to me often. It's fine. I'll survive. I can relieve myself if I have to."

She reached down and touched me. Her hand grasped my firmness, stroking it. "I'll do that for you if you'd like. If it's allowed."

I was going to tell her no, but guilt be damned, it felt too good. "That would be nice, my sweet Bethany. Although I'm forbidden from lying with you, I'll let you assist me with this, if you're willing."

She stroked me easily, steadily. Her hand was warm and soft, as was her body. I pushed against her hand, and enjoyed her touch until I achieved my much needed release. Afterward, she left my bed and returned from my bathroom with a moist facecloth which she used to clean me.

She giggled. "I have an urge to clean you with my hair, but I don't think it would do the job."

"What you've done for me tonight is perfect, sweet child. Bless you."

God help me, sometimes I'm such a bastard.

* * *

I woke early as was my wont, to an empty bed. Too bad, I had a morning erection which I wouldn't have minded some assistance with. Instead, I threw on my shorts, did my daily exercise, and ventured outside for my morning run.

There was a path around the perimeter wall, leaving a ten yard 'no-man's land' between the wall and any landscaping. The new security team had widened it and had motion-detectors and camera's targeting the space. It made for a nice running trail, which was my preferred way of staying in shape.

Two full laps was almost a mile, and I strove to complete at least three miles each morning. It worked up a nice sweat and got my mind cleared for the day. For a year or so, I'd worn Five-Fingers running shoes, and less than six months earlier had taken to running barefoot. The first couple of months had been hell, but now I knew I'd never be happy running in shoes. Running in nothing but a pair of loose running shorts was invigorating.

That morning I was contemplating my behavior with Bethany, and the prank I'd played on her. I was trying to figure out the best way to break the truth to her. Twenty minutes later, I still didn't have a good solution. I decided to simply play it off as a joke, and take my lumps.

Entering the house, I found Bethany in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. She was wearing one of my t-shirts. Even though it reached her knees, it looked a lot better on her than it did on me.

"I hope you like eggs and bacon," she announced. "I've got biscuits ready and I'll cook the eggs when you come out of the shower. How do you like yours?"

"Over-easy would be nice," I said. I'd postpone the confession until after breakfast. I grovel better on a full stomach.

I cleaned up and sat down to the table of food. It smelled great. The bacon was cooked a little more than I preferred, but who's complaining? I waited for Bethany to take a seat, letting her know how good everything looked and smelled.

She sat down near me, bowed her head, reached out and took my hand in hers. And waited.

I bowed my head with hers and racked my brain for a prayer. I was stuck. Nothing was coming. After several seconds, I looked over to her and she smiled, giving my hand a squeeze.

"Amen," she said, with a tentative smile. She passed me the biscuits. "It's so strange for me. To know that when you're praying, you may be having a real conversation. Did He say anything?"

I laughed. "No Bethany. I pray just like you. If He listens a little closer sometimes, that's not my decision."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I could have kicked myself. I was digging a deeper hole each time I spoke. And yet, it was a role I fell into so easily, it felt easier to respond in character than come clean.

The eggs were good and I was enjoying a home cooked meal that I hadn't had to slave over myself. "You make a mean breakfast."

"Thanks. I had to cook growing up." Her eggs were scrambled and she chased them around her plate with her biscuits. "Did you really mean it last night?"

I wasn't sure what she was referring to, and I gave her a curious look.

"You know, about God choosing me for you? His having a purpose for me." She reached out and put her hand on my arm. "You having a purpose for me."

Damn it. How did I get myself into these predicaments? I certainly did have a purpose for her, but it wasn't what she was thinking. Or was it?

"I'm unclear myself," I told her, once more taking the coward's route and continuing the charade. "I know I've been drawn to you and you're the first person I've ever felt the need to share His message with. But it's still so early. The translation is going slowly; I'm lucky to get through even a single line in a day."

She seemed to concentrate carefully on my words, her attention unwavering. She had a perplexed look, her forehead crinkling cutely. A huge smile enveloped her face and she sat upright. "I know! That's my purpose! To help you. Make things easier for you. Take away the tedious everyday jobs, and help with any stress. I bet that's what He wants me here for. I know it is. It just feels so right when I say it out loud."

"That's very kind of you Bethany, but you have your own life to live. Your sister to take care of."

A frown appeared, erasing that pretty smile, breaking my heart. "What kind of job can I get now? I can't go back to dancing. I've never had a real job that made enough money for Lilith to keep going to school and still support us."

"Has He told you to stop dancing?" I asked, reaching out and holding her hand.

"No. He doesn't talk to me. But it doesn't seem right, does it?"

I shrugged. "Maybe there's a purpose to it. His reasons are not for us to try to understand. Perhaps He wants you to understand men, their base desires, and how to influence them. Or it could be He wants you to work with the women there, to see His path. I don't know and wouldn't presume to. If not for that job I never would have met you."

"Couldn't you just ask Him?" she pleaded.

I shook my head. "Ask Him your purpose? That's between you and He. I know this much. He sees no evil in you. Nor do I." I closed my eyes and thought about it for a moment. I wouldn't mind having her around and it could be kind of fun to see where I could take this. Even if it wasn't the most decent thing I'd ever done. Believe it or not, it wasn't the worst.

"Does that mean it would be okay with you if I were around here, then? That I could help you?" she pleaded piteously.

"If you feel that's your calling, I would be the last one to interfere. I'd welcome your presence. You certainly make a dark dreary house a lot more pleasant."

"Dreary? Here?" she asked.

"No longer. Not when you're around."

The hug was nice. Luckily she cut it off before my response was too obvious. I mean, I was supposed to be a spiritual, celibate, scholar. I should be able to make it at least twelve hours between tending. Right?

* * *

I get it now. The whole admonition against idle hands. I didn't have a job. Didn't need one, with more cash than I can readily spend. Almost ten years of educational lollygagging behind me. I get up every day with nothing to look forward to except for my next kick.