THE PREACHER'S WIFE

About this story

Every small town has a church like this one: the senior pastor on Sundays, thundering about obedience, and his wife on Wednesdays, preaching kindness to the pensioners over biscuits and coffee. What the town doesn't know is that the wife's sermons have changed lately — there's something alive in them now, something that smells faintly of a strip club in Bloemfontein and a hotel key card slipped quietly into a handbag after the service. THE PREACHER'S WIFE follows one woman's education at the hands of a man who used to sit in her pews: from lights-off duty to the back corner of a strip club, from the church office desk — while the pensioners finish their coffee in the foyer — to a private room with a dancer named Angel. It is filthy, it is funny, it is oddly tender, and it never once apologises for her appetite or asks her to. Three chapters, one stolen pair of panties, and a marriage bed that will never know what hit it. The congregation must never find out.