She was five foot five…too short to be a runway model. I had three workout studios at the time and hired her to work at wherever I wasn’t.

She was half Italian and half Lebanese and when she answered my ad for a trainer I went over her duties several times. I wanted to ensure up front that she knew we weren’t casting starlets for a movie. My mouth got so dry during the interview my tongue stuck to the roof and speaking was laborious. I asked her if she had her own claw to get to wok and she smiled at my sudden speech impediment. I think she encountered them often.

Her flawless skin was a natural light brown and she had the kind of exquisite features that caused asthma attacks in otherwise healthy men.

My wife Tara had just given birth to my daughter and was a bit emotional—I knew better than to allow her to meet my newest employee.

Alissa’s perfect white teeth and sincere smile made a man feel dirty just for stealing a glance below her neck. Her long hair was too dark to be brown and her limbs too perfectly formed to be real. When Tara asked for her description the man who was never at a loss for words stumbled because "a Lebanese/Italian version of Halle Berry" might invite Mrs. Jealousy to make an appearance.

I was in love with the mother of my long-awaited daughter and communicated with Alissa only by phone—and insisted on mailing her paychecks.

Whenever Tara heard Alissa’s soft but well-modulated voice on the phone she merely raised her eyebrows and handed me the handset—watching my facial features like a chicken hawk for any reaction other than blasé or all business.

But the gym branch that Alissa was assigned to had suffered a mortal wound from a steroid addicted manager whose best quality was that he never actually raped any of the female clients he pawed at. The best Alissa could do was repair the studio’s tarnished image enough to nearly break even. After three months a scheduled rent increase prompted me to close the location. Alissa enjoyed the work and her boyfriend lived near the parent studio. She asked for a transfer and I agreed. The first day Alissa was scheduled to work at my location I made sure my wife and daughter were there too.

My new co-worker wore a workout outfit that enunciated every carefully toned curve below the waist and demonstrated just the right amount of cleavage to make me wince, but not faint. Overnight my wife was able to work more hours at our studio—always corresponding closely with Alissa’s new schedule. My male clientele increased steadily, doubtless due to my ever increasing ability to motivate and inspire them.

Alissa was 25 at the time and her boyfriend Jake was 27. His regular appearances at the studio began to convince my wife that Alissa and I might not be having passion-filled trysts in the tanning beds and parking lot. Unfortunately, in the alternative Tara gradually concluded that I was trying to conquer every other female client under the age of 70.

Pastor Tony, my dependable workout buddy, had not been dependable of late. He had started his church and was working feverishly on spreading the word and counseling members in his home’s basement/office.

But my friend found time to stop by late on a Friday afternoon, after Alissa had been working there for one week.

Pastor Tony stopped by in dress pants and a fitted shirt about an hour before our usual workout time. In spite of missing the last two weeks, he looked great. His shoulders, pecs, and biceps bulged from beneath the shirt’s thin material. He walked with the easy grace of an athlete and the bright countenance of a man that God smiles upon every day. He strolled into the studio and up to the front desk where I sat. Tony asked if I could wait for 20 minutes while he drove the two miles to his home to fetch workout clothes. He didn’t need to ask.

Alissa had a friend’s wedding to attend immediately after her shift. She was in one of the bathrooms changing. In spite of what could have been deplorable conditions for her, not once did I barge in on her to do a stock check for paper towel or soap. I was in love with my wife…in love with my wife…in love with my wife and was never tempted.

I could feel Tara’s eyes boring a hole into the back of my head. The burning feeling would last probably until Alissa had left the premises. Finally she came out of the bathroom. Poor Alissa wasn’t wearing any shoes. Her sensuous bare feet ended in perfectly formed toes that should never have been allowed to touch the dirty, dirty ground.

The short white cotton dress she had selected contrasted vividly against her smooth light copper skin. Was it too short for the wedding? That would have been best determined by pictures taken from every possible angle but I thought better of asking Tara to fetch a camera from home.

She had teased her long dark hair until it flowed slightly back in a beautiful mane. She was as yet unadorned by any jewelry.

I spotted her the moment she started across the studio, but Tony’s back was to her and only when Alissa was halfway to my desk did he notice my gaze riveted on the approaching creature.

Alissa’s lips were forming words around her perfect white teeth. She was lamenting the fact that her shoe strap had broken and a girlfriend was not slated to pick her up for another half hour. A suitable shoe store was only a mile away but she needed transportation. Was anyone by chance going that way?

I was quite certain that this was a young woman who did not need to bother with the expense of owning a car had she not wished to. I remain sure Alissa could have walked into any room in the world, requested transportation with a lovely smile, and had the request granted. A new car showroom: "Certainly Miss, here are the keys but please return it by next year if you decide not to purchase." A funeral home: "Roberts, remove the bereaved from the black Lincoln and take her there without delay." A family home in Beijing: "Ling Pao, get rickshaw from next door, this rady need ride to airport. Have Honored Ancestor help you road ruggage."

The point is that I am sure that Alissa was seldom lacking in people willing to help…thus her request was hardly out of line. I would also like to explain that it was not in the hopes of "getting something from her" that these requests were so readily granted. Speaking for myself, I found the prospect or thought of having actual physical relations with this ethereal body almost uncomfortable. God had not sent this perfect female being down to Earth to have mortals defile it. The white dress only emphasized an innocent virginal quality she could project anytime she chose.

I was so entranced by Alissa’s approach that I was little prepared to witness the next event. Pastor Tony had turned completely around by now and was facing Alissa. They were about 15 feet apart. Alissa stopped talking. She stood dead in her tracks and stared. I had never seen the woman’s jaw drop open—but it was now—and no words came out. Tony was speechless. I watched a reddish cloud ooze out from the floor and float over Tony. It formed a head that seemed to be whispering something into my workout buddy’s ear. A stray paper cup lay on the floor between Tony and Alissa—and the sparks flying between them caused it to smolder.

The red cloud never took on human shape but seemed to be able to gesticulate and cajole as it hovered near the Pastor’s head. The cheap carpeting between Tony and Alissa began to pop and melt.

Was I watching the devil trying to tempt one of the faithful? Was it taunting Tony or promising him everlasting happiness if he gave my employee a ride? They certainly seemed captivated by each other! Why didn’t one of them speak? Alissa’s eyes were big and shiny. So that was what desire looked like on a seductive angel! She looked Tony over from head to toe.

His gaze went no lower than her perfect neck. My gaze went much lower. Her fingernails were finished with a clear buffed polish that seemed to catch the light from the ceiling and cast it about in little glints when she moved her hands. Her toenails matched.

The devil grew more frantic. Was I watching a classic struggle between good and evil—between temptation and resistance? If so it appeared to be very one-sided.

The Italian half of Alissa manifested itself and she proffered her right hand to Tony and smiled. If Tony’s own Italian blood was boiling he never showed it. All I could think to say at the moment was "Bella! Bella!" But I didn’t. Eventually I found my speaking voice and introduced the two of them. Tony extended his hand and they shook. There was no embrace—no clutching—nothing.

The devil gave up, dispersed into vapor and was gone.

Tony took back his hand, dropped it back to his side, and turned on his heel. He squared his shoulders and bid us good-bye.

On the way out he reminded me of his return in 20 minutes when we would lift heavy things together.

The casual observer could never tell the two had met at all…unless they looked at Alissa.

Alissa stood staring wistfully at Tony’s back and then glanced down at her right hand. I wondered how Alissa would shower without washing that hand—but imagining her in the shower quickly led to a spiral of scenarios that required everything from a shampooist to a soaper to a loofah sponge specialist and finally a towel boy. A slow and thorough towel boy…one who prided himself on drying every…crap! Tara was glaring at me in a way that said my crossed eyes and idiot half grin were belying my thoughts.

Alissa’s boyfriend Jake was a bodybuilder and had a physique that was as large and symmetrical as Alissa’s was sensuous. He was dark haired and very good looking in spite of a prominent Italian nose. He used anabolic steroids to enlarge and enhance his sculpted body and stayed tanned year round. He was a sculptor that shaped flesh over muscle and did not mind showing off his masterpiece at church picnics in sheer tank tops and stretchy bicycle shorts. He was soft spoken with a hint of a lisp when he began to near the point of a story or the punch line of a quip. He and Alissa made a stunning couple when they were together. However even a match made in heaven can have a hiccup or even a case of whooping cough once in a while.

Apparently Alissa and Jake’s relationship was no exception. Alissa needed to share her fears and doubts with someone. Who better to administer both spiritual and emotional guidance than the young pastor of the church she had joined immediately after meeting Tony?

I was never privy to the conflicts that caused Alissa to need such counseling. The offices for Tony’s brand new church were in his tastefully finished basement. Therese served as church secretary in the outside waiting room/office that led to Tony’s inner sanctum. And while Tony never gave his steadfast workout partner any hints as to the turmoil that caused Alissa such angst, he often went into elaborate detail about the many steps he took prior to every counseling appointment she made.

The first step was that she had to make an appointment. There was to be no spur of the moment call from Alissa to inquire whether Pastor Tony had a spare moment. Calls for an appointment could be made to the church business line only—and only during the set office hours. Tony would only return her calls using the business line and never his personal cell phone—nor was his cell phone number ever offered to her.

Naturally her appointments would only fall between the church’s set and established office hours. If at all possible the appointment was to be written in the book in Therese’s own handwriting—but the precautions did not end there. To the contrary—they multiplied. On the morning or afternoon of Alissa’s appointment, Therese’s schedule would be cleared for two hours prior to and two hours after the appointment. Therese answered the front door when Alissa rang and escorted the poor troubled thing down the basement stairs to the waiting room. The door to Tony’s office was always closed and Therese would invite the winsome lass to take a seat while she checked on the Pastor’s availability. Alissa’s attire might be acknowledged or commented on by Therese but never disparaged no matter how short or sheer she found it to be. Only adjectives like "cute" or "summery" were acceptable. Upon situating herself behind her own desk Therese would immediately "buzz" Tony in his inner office even though the thin door only required her to announce the arrival of the visitor using nothing more than a clear speaking voice. After Tony responded on the intercom, Therese would advise him that his two or three or four o’clock was present outside…as though Tony’s new church yielded appointments every hour around the clock. Tony would acknowledge the communiqué and sign off abruptly as though he needed to complete something of great importance first. Moments later he would buzz Therese and ask her to escort the person in. Therese would then open the door inward all the way until the knob touched the interior wall—this next part is very important—and after Alissa crossed the threshold Therese would stand by the door smiling and ensuring the door remained wide open. Alissa would then be greeted by the Pastor with a cordial handshake from across the desk and invited to seat her 120 pounds of tanned, woeful, curvy, seething womanhood into a chair in front of the aforementioned desk. In the interest of full disclosure, any description of Alissa subsequent to the word "tanned" are not Tony’s words but rather those of the person to whom he described the protocol. Only then would Therese retreat back to her own desk in the exterior anteroom, where she would of course remain seated during the entire consultation. And only then could the young, alluring, confused lust-bunny begin to bare her soul to her pastor about her faith and fears and hopes and what it was that God had planned for her firm body and easily distracted soul. Again, I am merely guessing as to what was thought and said and can only assume that Pastor Tony will take the actual content of those conversations with him until he is seated at the right hand of the Lord.

 

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