J'ADORE

Blasphemy

“Dont call me that , besides I don’t think sharing conversation is forbidden.” His eyes meet yours after a moment. Slowly padding down the uneven incline, you stood nearly an inch away from the troubled monsignor.

Then again, you were his trouble.

“Still, we shouldn’t dawdle.” he looked over your head before panning to the trees, searching for onlookers.

"Afriad you'll get caught ?"

“I tried to shepherd the black sheep and yet I’m the one led astray.” He whispered to himself, only loud enough that you can hear him. “Door will be unlocked at ten. No flash lights.”

How romantic

But your brain does find a way to romanticize the statement. A forbidden rendezvous in the depths of the night. Something secretive and delectable that will send tingles up your spine for the next several hours.

“Of course. Enjoy your afternoon.” You say and carefully slide past him on the slatted path, avoiding the bramble and overgrowth from the trees.

There’s a nagging comment you can’t quite keep held to your chest. “I know I will!”

How exactly does one prepare for such an event with a man of the cloth? You’d been doing it for several weeks at this point. Though there was something especially provocative about begging for forgiveness to immediately setting up a ‘date’.

The rest of the day had been divided with some confusing feelings intermingled with the devastating urge to touch yourself followed by blinking away tears. It was stupid to entertain the thought, to continue this charade. But love made you do crazy things.

No.

Lust made you do crazy things. Like seducing a priest when he needed comfort not sex. Though that was you needed too. So what if it became more carnal in the process?

Wearing a maroon sweatshirt over yoga pants, you shut the blinds in the living room before turning off the light. The old cottage was completely silent and dark as you carefully slid out the back door. It was unlocked with a spare key hidden under the mat.

The less metallic clanging, the better.

Disappearing in the woods at the edge of the property, you carefully stepped on slats that would make the least noise. The moon hung heavy in the black sky, lighting your way. The first night it had been a waning sliver, so dim that you nearly broke an ankle on a fallen branch.

He  had tended to the wound before carefully making love to you as if you were a glass that would shatter beneath him. Your cheeks turned pink, something you would blame on the salty air and windchill. Working your way down the little slope, the dark canvas of the cut church lawn came into sight.

Something strange knotted in your stomach as you quietly climbed the porch of the rectory. Avoiding the urge to knock, the brass knob was cold in your palm. The door slowly swung open as you found the good father reading on the sofa.

His brows rose as his lips quirked into the slightest smile. Feeling the heat rise in the room, you swiftly bolted the door as he rose to meet you. Arms locked around a slender torso as he leaned down to bury his nose in your hair.

Hands framed your face as those heavenly eyes searched your devious ones.

“God forgive me,” His thumb grazed your bottom lip, “and God help me.”

His gaze rose above your head, as though the Lord Almighty would offer divine intervention. Maybe physically toss you aside and absolve his fallen preacher’s sins. There was something completely sexy about causing a man’s crisis with religion.