The Journey of Mrs. Small - Sex Stories

The Journey of Mrs. Small

You could have heard a pin drop as he stepped through the church hall doorway. One moment there was the almost deafening sounds of the hustle and bustle of the busy parish summer bring and buy sale and the next moment complete silence. People stopped in their tracks and turned and stared at him; it was almost as if Old Nick himself had entered the room, desecrating holy ground. But it wasn’t him. Jack Hardy was no devil. Jack Hardy owned the only sex shop within a radius of thirty miles. He wasn’t fazed by the sudden silence and the stares from fifty or so pairs of eyes in the room. Jack was a former Royal Marine; he had faced far worse. He was hardened. He wasn’t a people pleaser either and, although he never went out of his way to upset people, he wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. He glanced around the room, some eyes avoided his, and some didn’t. He just kept looking until he found those belonging to the person he had come to see. “Can we help you?” said a female voice coming from behind a small table. Jack stood and stared at her as she moved from behind it and slowly walked towards him. He smiled at her. She had created a lot of trouble for him in the past but he bore no grudges. “I’ve come to sign the petition,” he told her. “Petition?” He nodded. “Yes, the petition you are organising.” “Oh, it... it’s not here,” she replied nervously. “It’s in the Vestry and my husband is away.” She had reached him now and people were beginning to slowly go about their business ...

... again. “When can I come back and sign?” “I... I... er, why do you want to sign it anyway?” she asked him. “I thought you would be the last person to sign it.” “On the contrary,” he told her, “my signature should be at the top of the list. We don’t need another sex shop on the high street do we? Next thing you know we’ll have lap dancing clubs and the like. I want to keep our town respectable.” He heard a few scoffs and sniggers but he ignored them. “I could pop back after the service on Sunday,” he said. She moved closer to him, invading his personal space and forcing him to move backwards out of the doorway. “I... I... don’t think we would want your name on our petition,” she told him. “You could oppose the licence more directly.” He was angry. One thing he hated more than anything else was hypocrisy. He quickly turned the tables and moved closer to invade her personal space, forcing her to back into a small alcove with shelves filled with hymn books. “My shop has brought a lot of benefit to this town,” he told her. “Not only creating a dozen or so jobs but also meeting the needs of many people, including some of your parishioners.” She gasped. “I... I... can’t believe that any of our members would frequent such a place.” He smiled. “I can see at least six familiar faces in there,” he told her. “But that’s their business and not yours or mine.” “I... “ “Tell me, who created man and woman?” “Why, God of course.” “Who created sex?” “God. “ “Who gave us the ability to dream and ...