Page 2 of Inevitably Yves

“Let me see your face,” he whispers. “It will make it so much easier to speak my transgressions.”

I sit forward slightly, turning to peer at him through the screen. Even in the dim candlelight, his face is as clear as day.

“There you are, Father,” the man says. “I heard about you on my travels. In the village of Ballygawley there is a priest, they said. A most kind man.”

“Thank you.”

“So I came to see you for myself. You see, I am in need of a flock myself.”

“You…” I shake my head at his confusing words. “You are a priest?”

The man chuckles. “Far from it.”

“I am afraid I do not understand. Do you have a confession to make?”

“I do, Father. I have lain with men. I have fornicated in the flesh, and I will do it again. I love it.”

His words unravel the tightness in the pit of my stomach, but I must keep my defenses up.

“Why does your god so despise pleasure?” he asks. “Why should I ask for forgiveness for indulging in his creations? Can you help me understand, Father?”

I open my mouth to speak, but the words will not come. The man smiles at me, his head tilted innocently, but this is no normal man. He is temptation in the flesh. Something evil lurks just beneath his surface.

“Perhaps you understand my plight, Father? Certainly a man of the cloth must know all about temptation. How do you deny yourself?”

“Prayer,” I manage to answer. “My faith guides me, as it can for you.”

“Ah, but you did not answer the primary concern. Why does your god deny us pleasure?”

“My God? Do you not believe?”

“I believe in a lot of things, Father. A man in the sky delivering earthly and spiritual punishment is not one of them.”

“But…you partook of communion. That is a sacrament. You are here to confess. I do not understand.”

The man chuckles and then he is gone in a flash. I peer through the screen to find the other side empty, but when I lean back he is behind me. I startle.

“Sir, you cannot be in here.”

He hovers over me, nearly pressed against me in the smaller space. I stand and back as far away as possible, but there is nowhere to run.

“Father Cillian,” the man says, reaching out to touch my cheek. “You are indeed all that they said. Kind, welcoming, and so very handsome. Yet, you give your life to service for a non-existent deity. I could give you so much more.”

“Please, sir. It is fine if you do not believe, but I must ask you to step back.”

He holds my gaze as his hand slides from my cheek to my neck. He tugs on my collar and my breath hitches. “What a pretty neck you have. How old are you, Father?”

“Twenty-six.”

“Twenty-six. Just a baby.” His hand moves to my chest over my heart. “What if I told you that I know what you keep in here?” He taps my chest with his finger. “I know all of it, even the things you do not dare whisper to your god.”

“Who are you?”

“I am your savior, Cillian. I can give you everything you seek.”

“I seek nothing. My life is the Church and I am fulfilled.”

He chuckles, moving backward out of the confessional. I take a moment to breathe and compose myself, all too aware of my body’s carnal reaction to his presence. I will not let this seductive stranger lead me to my destruction.

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