This evening my wife and I attended an Ash Wednesday service at a local church. This wasn’t at the church that we normally attend because it doesn’t follow the traditional Christian calendar. Instead we went to a nearby Presbyterian church that some of our friends recommended. They said that this church’s Ash Wednesday service had been meaningful to them last year.
I didn’t really care either way. I grew up only celebrating Easter and Christmas at my church. We didn’t pay any attention to the other Christian holidays because they were too Catholic…gasp! But my wife grew up in a more liturgical church setting so we compromised, which meant that I caved in.
When we got to the church things were pretty standard. The lights were low and people were using the kneelers to pray. There were a few candles lit which gave the room an odd glow. There was a string quintet playing a beautifully somber dirge and the decorations on the main stage were sparse. All of this was par for the course, or so I’ve been told.
When we found a seat one of our pew-mates had already pulled down the kneeler. Of course, my wife immediately kneels and begins to pray. I’m not that inclined to do things the same way that everyone does, so I remained seated. However, after a minute or two my wife glared back at me and indicated with a head nod that she wanted me to use the kneeler too.
I complied, and I sm glad I did! At first I tried to make a concerted effort to pray. I began reciting the Lord’s Prayer in my head: “Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed by thy na—” My wife interrupted me with a little elbow jab. She whispered, “Do you see that?,” while nodding with her head toward the pew in front of us. I mouthed, “What?,” before looking up.
When I tilted my head up, however, I quickly discovered what all the fuss was about; namely, the ass of the woman directly in front of my wife. This woman was wearing a tight pair of jeans that had ridden down a bit, and the situation was only made worse by her kneeling. Moreover, she was wearing a g-string – not a thong or a v-string, a g-string.
And this wasn’t just any ol’ g-string. It was hot pink and the three strings connected in the back to a small gold ring, you know, the sluttiest kind imaginable. There was only one other place that I can remember seeing a g-string like that: at Deja Vu Showgirls in City of Industry, CA.
Since I used to be a regular at Deja Vu, I tried to see if I recognized the woman. I didn’t. What was I thinking? What are the odds that I would see a stripper at an Ash Wednesday service, especially one that I recognized by her panties?
This woman wasn’t anyone that I had ever seen before. But over the next hour I saw a lot of her; well, at least her ass. I tried to be sneaky about it because I didn’t want my wife to notice, so I closed my left eye which was closest to my wife, turned my head slightly toward the g-string-ed woman, and took in the view with my right eye.
I think it worked, unless, of course, my wife finds and reads this blog entry. Even if she does, who could blame me? I mean that woman had a nice ass!
Needless to say, this was by far the most memorable Ash Wednesday service that I have ever been to!
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