The Last Straw (new 4/5)

[Somebody]

Nice! I was expecting them to just open the hymnals to be in compliance, and be able to write it off as "oh wait I forgot this part" but to put the books behind their backs.. they are really getting with the program.

[Skylar21]

Nice! I was expecting them to just open the hymnals to be in compliance, ...but to put the books behind their backs.. they are really getting with the program.

Frankie introduced his finger-snap command a few chapters back with Mary. Whenever he snapped his finger, Mary had to put her arms behind her back and smile at whoever was in front of her. She responded appropriately to the gesture in the choir.

[Somebody]

Ohh I didn't pick up on that being the specific gesture, just that it was like "when I snap my fingers, stop covering up." Nice.

[student]

Hurray for Cindy!

Now that the sisters are joined in sisterhood, sounds like time for the old swimming hole.

[neverdoubted]

Ohh I didn't pick up on that being the specific gesture, just that it was like "when I snap my fingers, stop covering up." Nice.

Chapter 22 and again in 30

[computerphoto]

Ohh I didn't pick up on that being the specific gesture, just that it was like "when I snap my fingers, stop covering up." Nice.

Chapter 22 and again in 30

Thanks for keeping posting new chapters, keep up the great work

[Frances2024]

I'm really enjoying the original premise and am following the story with great interest! However, I feel the congregation's reaction is an underwhelming element. A rural church, the most conservative environment imaginable, would have a much more visceral and chaotic response to three nude teenagers on the altar. Where are the parishioners storming out in protest, parents frantically covering their children's eyes, elders confronting the pastor, or scandalized whispers escalating into vocal outrage? The generic "murmuring" fails to capture the social firestorm this brilliantly awkward situation truly deserves.

[computerphoto]

I'm really enjoying the original premise and am following the story with great interest! However, I feel the congregation's reaction is an underwhelming element. A rural church, the most conservative environment imaginable, would have a much more visceral and chaotic response to three nude teenagers on the altar. Where are the parishioners storming out in protest, parents frantically covering their children's eyes, elders confronting the pastor, or scandalized whispers escalating into vocal outrage? The generic "murmuring" fails to capture the social firestorm this brilliantly awkward situation truly deserves.

First this is fiction, and second, this takes place in the 1970s.

[neverdoubted]

I'm really enjoying the original premise and am following the story with great interest! However, I feel the congregation's reaction is an underwhelming element. A rural church, the most conservative environment imaginable, would have a much more visceral and chaotic response to three nude teenagers on the altar. Where are the parishioners storming out in protest, parents frantically covering their children's eyes, elders confronting the pastor, or scandalized whispers escalating into vocal outrage? The generic "murmuring" fails to capture the social firestorm this brilliantly awkward situation truly deserves.

You are picking up on several dynamics playing out here. There are biblical examples of non-sexual nudity. In fact, classical religious art probably contains more nudity than classical secular art specifically because it was considered to be a portrayal of innocence.

From Frankie's perspective, this scene is an erotic exhibition for the ages. But all the congregation knows is what the pastor has told them - that these girls are innocent and worthy of compassion, not wrath. They are naked, yes, but are not engaging in overt sexual expression. In fact, they are acting meek and humble - exactly like the church back then would expect young ladies to be. Perfect little angels.

Furthermore, country folk in that era were conservative, but also practical. They would tend to defer to authority, especially religious authority, and would not consider the middle of a worship service the appropriate time or place to raise concerns. There is some indignation and confrontation at the start of the next chapter, but not to the degree you are imagining.

I'm glad to hear you are liking the story and hope the perceived incongruencies of this scene will not diminish your enjoyment of it.

[neverdoubted]

Once dismissed, the choir exited the loft and came down to join the congregation. Collapsing into the pew beside me, Mary allowed her shoulders to relax a tiny bit. The relative safety of the wooden seat and back was a Godsend compared to being under the bright lights of the stage with nothing covering her naked body.

But her respite from worry was short-lived. She may have survived her time in the spotlight, but she still had the rest of her nude vacation to endure. Clasping her hands in front of her hid her naked chest from nearby onlookers. When she bowed her head and closed her eyes, it looked like she was praying. I don't know, maybe she was.

Looking shellshocked and staring at nothing, Bea sat beside Mary and immediately tucked her knees up under her chin. A naked girl has to use creative poses to counteract her extreme exposure.

But Cindy climbed past all three of us to get on my other side. As she settled into the pew very close to me and looked up as if seeking my approval, I wanted to commend her for being so brave during her very first public naked activity. With a warm smile, I wrapped my arm around her in a tight hug of encouragement. The tense expression on her face softened and she rested her head on my shoulder. The hardest part was over. All she had to do for now was sit there under my protective wing and look pretty. An easy task for someone with such exceptional looks and a supportive stepbrother.

With the nude choir girls no longer taking center stage, the restless congregation settled down quite a bit and the pastor was able to transition into his prepared sermon. For the life of me, I couldn't recall a single thing the man said. With a beautiful girl nestled within the crick of my neck, and two more withing arm's reach - all three wholly dependent on me to care for and protect them, I had other things on my mind than some backwoods sermon.

When the service concluded, several congregants stood up and buzzed about the room like members of a beehive that had just been kicked. Teen boys craned their necks to get one last look at the unbelievable sight as their angry mothers dragged them out of the room.

Other women clustered together, talking excitedly before stampeding toward the back exit to give the preacher a piece of their mind. They complained that welcoming these beauties into the church was also tempting their wayward husbands into thinking unwholesome thoughts. Honestly, I couldn’t disagree with their argument.

A few men came near and offered my father condolences. But really, they just wanted to gawk and get a closer look at my stepsisters. He nodded politely like a good soldier and shook their hands. But I could practically see his eyes rolling behind his stoic expression. His stepdaughters had ruined his family's wholesome image and hijacked what should have been a peaceful Sunday service. But the new, more relaxed version of my father was less annoyed by our family being the center of a controversy than he usually was.

The innocent girls sat meekly in the pew; clearly not trying to cause a scene. And as the commotion ran out of steam, people soon gave up and headed home for Sunday dinner. Some of the last ones to leave, we made our way to the back of the church. Cindy held my hand the whole way. The weary preacher was standing by the exit with an expression I was getting quite used to seeing. After all the negative feedback he had just received, he was more than happy to see our family out. As soon as he could, he bid us farewell and pulled the church door tightly closed behind him. Good riddance.

Mr. Fleemer had been waiting outside for us to emerge. As soon as we cleared the building, he approached my father and restarted their conversation which the church service had interrupted. He had already generously volunteered to take us to his family's failed resort grounds for an afternoon picnic. But now, he expanded the offer.

"If you're interested in camping, I have all the best sites mapped out. Some of the best views in the county if you don't mind the hike."

"Ooh, that does sound fun," I said, offering my opinion unsolicited. But Patricia, who had been walking on the other side of my father and overheard the exchange, frowned.

My stepmother was hardly the "roughing it" type. Hiking, setting up a campsite, and preparing dinner for six over an open fire was not her idea of a fun way to spend the day. And though she had made it through church without too much yawning, judging by the bags under her eyes, she was looking forward to a lazy, Sunday afternoon nap. The great outdoors had many things to offer, but a soft mattress, a cool pillow, and thick curtains were not among them.

Normally, she wouldn't have enough say to veto my father's plans just because she was tired. But with him acting so...weird lately, I had to factor in that the more laid-back version of Frank Askis might be convinced to listen to her. How could I be sure of anything he might do?

Sensing a confrontation coming, I cataloged which benefits of camping would most effectively resonate with him just in case. More than just a chance to commune with nature and get some fresh air, the activity would cost him next to nothing. And though he had paid for two rooms last night when he didn't have to, he was usually not the type to pass up the chance to save on motel fare and cheap entertainment.

But when we got to the car, our station wagon made the decision for us by making a clamorous grinding noise and pouring out smoke instead of starting. It didn't take more than a glance under the hood to see the engine was shot - and with it, any chance of camping.

Luckily, Mr. Fleemer was still around. He graciously offered us a lift back into town so my father could call a tow truck and coordinate getting the car fixed. When he pulled his pickup truck around, the task fell to me, even in my Sunday clothes, to transfer our things from the top of the station wagon into his bed. The girls and I also had to ride in the bed like luggage while the three adults squeezed into the front bench seat.

As we rumbled back toward the Tuck Me Inn, I was disappointed by my rotten luck. I couldn't hear what the adults were saying in the cabin, but through the glass, it looked like Patricia was bending my father's ear and doing a pretty good job convincing him to cancel the nature excursion.

But the trip back to the motel gave me a chance to think. And by the time we reached the office, I had rallied. When the men went inside to check in and use the phone, I jumped out of the bed and joined them. I wasn't ready to give up on camping and had an idea for the perfect compromise. Patricia could recuperate at the motel, and I could get what I wanted after all. I just had to convince my father to go along with it.

"Mr. Fleemer, how many camp sites did you say there were out on your land" I asked, leaning back against the counter. This was my subtle way of revisiting the earlier conversation without being petulant or pushy about it.

"Oh, at least half a dozen within a day's walk of a road," he gushed, "and three or four more in the back woods - great hunting in the fall."

I whistled. "That sure sounds amazing!"

"Forget it, junior," said my father, "Mother wants to rest and the car needs a new head gasket. We won't be going anywhere for at least a couple of days."

"Yes sir," I replied, "...it's just a shame that none of us will get to see such a beautiful stretch of God's blessed country."

"Mmm," both men responded - as if I had said something profound.

I let my patriotic remark sit for a few seconds before pretending to have an epiphany.

"Say, here's an idea," I said, brightly, "why don't I take the girls camping with me. I could use the afternoon to get supplies, and we could leave out first thing in the morning. That is, if Mr. Fleemer wouldn't mind being our ride. You and mother could relax at the motel, and you could pick us up once the car is fixed."

"From one Frank to another, why, that's a great idea," exclaimed Mr. Fleemer.

Since his opinion held no real sway, I did not let the man’s enthusiasm infect me. I only let myself relax when I saw the gleam in my father's eye. My offer came with too many benefits for him to ignore. Not only would I take care of his three unmanageable stepdaughters for the longest stretch yet, but he also wouldn't have to pay for a second motel room for the kids if we were sleeping under the stars.

As I suspected, the chance to spend several days of uninterrupted, one-on-one time with his wife proved extremely appealing. As far as I know, he and Patricia never got a honeymoon. With three young children to look after and another on the way, the newlyweds had transitioned straight into homemaking. But judging from the sounds we had heard through the walls last night…they were making up for lost time.

When he gave his blessing with a firm pat on the back and a nod, I couldn't help but beam with pride at my accomplishment. Changing my father's mind – at least the old version of my father - was difficult and rare. I still needed to gather supplies, but the hardest part was over.

Even though we had checked out that morning without any plans to return, the front desk clerk didn't look at all surprised to see us again.

"I suppose you’ll be wanting your things back, eh" he asked, retrieving the keys to the exact two rooms we had rented the night before. It took me a second to figure out he was talking about Cindy's possessions! We had left it all behind that morning without any explanation or instructions.

"I put everything here in the back room until you came back," he said, nodding behind him.

"You take care of that, junior," my father ordered, "I need to make a phone call."

When I ably accepted the commission, he handed me the key to our room along with money for camping supplies. We had brought much from home but still needed things like food. Then he asked to borrow the desk phone from the clerk. My father and I were both in for a busy afternoon. No lazy Sunday snooze for us.

There was only one mechanic in town. But my father had to convince him to come in on Sunday to negotiate repairs. And because the car was dead, he also had to arrange a tow truck to deliver it. Meanwhile, I would ride with Mr. Fleemer to his house to pick out the perfect site. Then I had to gather everything we kids might need for a successful two-day campout.

Following the clerk into the stockroom, I saw where he had stacked Cindy's suitcase and other belongings against the wall - including every scrap of clothing she had packed for the trip. It was considerate of him to gather everything up for us like that.

Spotting her purse within the pile, I picked it up and found the treasured souvenirs she had bought so far on this trip along with a few dollars she had yet to spend tucked inside. Knowing how much it would mean to her if I returned it, I folded it under my arm like a newspaper before turning to leave.

"Don't you want to take the rest, too," the man asked.

"Nah," I replied with a dismissive wave, "you can keep it or donate it. Throw it away, for all I care."

Cindy had chosen to leave her clothes behind. Why should I return them now? Wouldn’t that just undo her courageous act and distance her from her sisters once more?

Making the short walk to the same unit as before, I met my family just as Mr. Fleemer was dropping them off. After thanking the kind man for the ride, Patricia headed straight to her room.

My stepsisters took after their mother in that they liked their creature comforts and would choose pampering to camping any day. I would need to tell them that the proposed camping trip was still on for tomorrow but that it was just going to be us kids. It wasn’t that they had any choice in the matter. I just needed to find the right way to break the news.

With my father still on the phone in the lobby, Mr. Fleemer offered to help me unload the truck. Since we were going to his house next, he gave me a few minutes to get settled and agreed to wait in the car. I transported our parents’ suitcases into their unit where Patricia had already started her nap.

As soon as I was finished and unlocked our unit, my stepsisters jumped out of Frank's truck bed and came dashing for safe cover. Cindy reached the doorway first and looked around excitedly. When she saw the empty room, the hopeful expression on her face faded and her whole body slumped.

I can't fault her for expecting to find her church dress and underwear lying right where she had taken them off and the rest of her clothes packed safely in her suitcase. But we hadn't intended to return, and the room had been cleaned out to make it ready for new guests. Hope briefly glimmered when I revealed that I had somehow salvaged her purse.

"W-where did you find this," she asked, "what about m-my other things?"

I knew clothing was the only thing that mattered to her right now. She had braved her nude state admirably. But after spending the entire morning naked, even the most determined girl would be tempted by her old outfits.

"Sorry, this was the only thing left," I replied.

It wasn't true, of course. Her clothes were all safe and sound in the stock closet behind the front desk. But it was better to lie to her than give her false hope of ever getting them back.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching her purse tightly in both hands, she looked so small. When I saw tears of despair welling up in the corners of her eyes, I sat down and wrapped my arms around her twitching shoulders as she wrestled with the true weight of her nude predicament.

"It's ok," I said softly, "take as much time as you need."

With a heavy, pitiful sob, she melted into my arms and quietly mourned her loss one last time. Her clothes were well and truly gone. She had to accept that she would likely be spending the rest of her vacation as she was now. But she was not alone. She could imitate her sisters and draw strength from them in a collective state of embarrassment.

Comforted by my protective embrace and reminded that I would also be right there to support her every step of the way, her moment of melancholy passed quickly. Though a few tears had leaked out onto her cheeks, she raised her head and looked up at me with a grateful smile. Cynthia Sue Conyor was at peace knowing she could always count on me. Then she yawned.

Worn out by her eventful morning, she curled up under the covers and was asleep before I had finished bringing in the rest of the camp equipment. Equally as drained from being forced to attend a church service in the nude, I saw Mary eyeing the other side of the mattress. But before she could settle down for her own nap, I delivered the news I had been holding back.

"I'm going to get supplies for our camping trip," I announced, "I should be out most of the afternoon."

"What?!" she exclaimed, jumping back to her feet in an unintentionally sexy, jiggling display, "I thought we were staying here. I am not going camping!"

Adopting a stiff, imposing stance with my hands clasped behind my back, it was the best impression of my father that I could summon. He would not put it up for a vote; neither did I. Ignoring Mary's declaration just like he would have done, I finished my speech.

"We are staying here for one night. And mother and father are staying behind until the car is fixed. But Mr. Fleemer has offered to give us a ride to the trail head in the morning so the children can still go camping as planned. Wheels up at o-six-thirty. I want to get an early start."

I didn't have to include any reminders about being packed and ready to go on time. Other than Cindy's purse and church shoes which she had removed before climbing into bed, the Conyor sisters no longer had any possessions. Without a stitch of clothing between the three of them to pack, there was no reason our morning departure couldn’t go off without a hitch. The hard part would be getting them to accept that this trip was not optional. I was going camping. And I was taking them with me whether they liked it or not.

As I lifted my pack over my shoulder, an anxious Bea looked to her big sister to summon a protest. But Mary knew it wouldn't have made a difference. As usual, no one consulted them. If the girls didn't like the decision to go camping, they could take the issue up with my father. And they weren’t about to do something like that.

But if nothing else, Conyor women were resilient in the face of adversity. My stepsisters had proven that time and again on this trip. Given time to process it, I was confident that they would rally around the idea of a camping trip and find the silver linings. They just needed to remember that the situation could always be worse. I could be dragging them smack dab into the middle of a bustling city or to an amusement park. Say, that's an idea!

"You just hang out here and rest up. I'll be back later with the supplies. Don't worry, I'll take care of everything,” I promised. They could count on me.

I stepped outside and pulled the door behind me until it made a firm click. Given that they were just teenage girls trapped in a motel room without any clothes on, I had to assume that they would stay put and not cause any trouble. I was so focused on getting ready for the upcoming trip that it never occurred to me to provide a Sunday lunch.

Mr. Fleemer had been waiting patiently for me to emerge from the motel room.

"Ready to go?" he asked, as I happily joined him in the cab of his truck.

My excitement for the upcoming trip must have been contagious, because he matched my huge grin with one of his own. Honestly, I think he was just happy to be sharing his family land with a nice, appreciative, All-American family - even one where the girls of the family had a particularly odd relationship with clothes.

As the idling truck rumbled into motion, I got out my pocket notebook and made a shopping list. Many of the camping supplies we had packed from home were army surplus - sparse, but functional and sufficient. Mr. Fleemer assured me that most of the sites had easy access to fresh water sources and promised to point them out on his survey map once we got to his house. It would simplify things greatly not having to haul in potable water or collect it along the way. But we still needed food and other perishables which warranted a stop at the supermarket.

Unlike my stepsisters who had packed what felt like their entire closets for this vacation, my style was to travel light. Focused on just the essentials, I left no money in the budget for entertainment. But once my shopping list was complete and I moved on to taking stock of my personal things, a rediscovery changed my priorities.

Already planning to bring my neglected camera to capture what ought to be some spectacular sights, I was digging around in my pack to gather the rolls of unused film, when my hand closed over a small loop of metal. It was a piece from the custom harness the cowboy Percy left me after Mary's horse demonstration. And it gave me a spectacular idea!

"Say, Mr. Fleemer," I said, just as we were pulling into his driveway, "after we look at your maps, could you give me a lift to the nearest blacksmith?"