The Anti-Mormon Choir

 Samantha was a petite Mexican-American woman with an hour-glass figure and large, natural breasts. Her feminine features and perfect ass weren’t always something she considered a blessing. Today was her 18th birthday and she was finally getting released from juvenile detention. 

A few years ago, against her better judgment, she’d agreed to a quinceanera just to make her mom happy. She’d put aside her black jeans and black makeup for one day to wear a ridiculous pink floof of a dress. She’d even let her aunt do her makeup and didn’t complain when she thought the over-zealous aunt made her look like a clown hooker. 

Then her cousin brought the wrong friend to the party and shit got real real quick. She’d just sat down to take a break from dancing and the dickhead man-child in his mid twenties sat way too close, smashing part of the dress and grinning like a wolf that was equal parts stupid and hungry. “Smile for me, babe. I bet you’re pretty when you smile.”

Nothing triggered Sam like ‘Smile for me’... ‘Why in the fucking fuck should I do anything for you shithead?!’ she thought.  

“Say something funny and maybe I will,” she replied.

“How about I do something you like instead,” he said, hardly closing his lips to keep on his joker face manic smile. He put his hand on her knee and started to move it up her thigh. He didn’t know she had had enough people pleasing this day to last a lifetime and pleasing a creepy stranger was absolutely not on the menu. He didn’t know they were at a table where an uncle had just finished a steak and left his steak knife. He looked up expecting coy embarrassment and got a steak knife in the eye. The man lost an eye and Sam lost the rest of her high school experience. It wasn’t her first offense and her mom and dad didn’t know what else to do besides send her away. 

But today she was leaving the Salt Lake City School for Troubled Young Women and couldn't be happier. She was agnostic, but had still been sent to the Mormon-run boarding school because that’s where her Mormon parents wanted to send her.

She was very excited to get to see men other than her father, but was still very happy to see her dad pull up to pick her up in his old truck. 

“Hello, my love! Are you happy to be free, ninita?”

Soon, she was working at Starbucks with Jenny, a childhood friend who’d helped her get the job there. What amazed Sam was how different Jenny was at work to when not at work. At work Jenny would wear pastels and smile at everyone; not at work she’d wear goth makeup and listen to heavy metal. Sam was ready to move from grunge to goth and ready to find the Salt Lake City that wasn’t advertised. 

“Have you ever sung in a choir?” Jenny asked one day out of nowhere. “The church choir, when I was a kid,” Sam replied. 

“Funny you say that, because you know Miguel’s the screamer in his band, well he’s looking to get a full choir for back up vocals: church choir style but goth fashion.” 

“Would I have to audition?” Miguel was hot as hell but Sam was a good friend so she was just looking to hook up with a few of Miguel's single friends.   

“No, not since you have choir experience. They’re making a video and want the choir to be as big as it can be for the space.” 

There were a few practices before the shoot, and Sam dressed up for every single one. She loved experimenting with different kinds of black and white makeup. She loved getting to see Will at every practice. He wore an old army jacket like an army of one. It was ironic to see an anarchist in a uniform.

The tattered jacket fit his broad shoulders well. His hair was unkempt but not messy. His face and hands were the right kind of rough. The best thing about him: he hardly ever smiled. He was the brother of the drummer, and all her other crushes seemed trivial after hearing his smooth baritone voice for the first time.  

“Remember,” Miguel was saying at the final practice, “this Sunday is the shoot. Black and white clothes and makeup. If you can’t do your own makeup, get someone else to do it. If we end up touring we’ll need a smaller choir. So think of this video as an audition for that.”

Sam was collecting her things to go change before work that evening when Will, bold as brass, walked right up to her. ‘Had he noticed her noticing him?!’ her mind was racing and her palms were sweating. 

“Hey…”

“Hey!..”

“You’ve got a great voice. And I love your makeup.” the broody baritone who didn’t like anything liked her! Her pussy went from moist to wet. 

“Oh thanks, I wouldn’t say I’m a makeup artist like Jenny, but I have fun with it.”

“”Jenny’s probably doing every loser’s makeup. I was wondering if you could do mine before we film.”

The morning before the video shoot, Sam was alone with Will in his apartment. She couldn’t believe her luck to be alone with this man who knew how to compliment without being pretentious; who knew how to keep a clean apartment that wasn’t too clean to be cozy.

She was going for a classic look with his makeup: just some foundation and a vertical black line accenting each eye. She’d just finished the eyes and was touching up the foundation.

“Are you ok bending over like that?”

“I’m fine. Are you ok wearing this much makeup? Is this a first for you?”

“It’s the first time I’ve had it done by a woman as beautiful as you.” Sam was blushing, but kept working. “If you want to, you can sit on my lap to get a better angle. You know, just so you don’t have to hunch over like that.”

Sam smiled and decided to go for it. Will was sitting on an upside down wooden crate. Part of the charm of his apartment was that most of his furniture was self made for whatever he could refurbish. Sam pretended to still be interested in nothing but the makeup as she straddled him and made herself comfortable.

“Is this ok?” he said as he started to rub her back. She replied by kissing him.

They were late to the shoot. Sam had to re-do her makeup. But Will, in an absolutely endearing way, left the smudged black lipstick all over his mouth.