Page 11 of Sin With Me

Freezes weren’t cold enough to help me now, not unless I bathed in them, and even then, I was afraid that nothing would cool my instant arousal aroundKate.

“Thank you, Kate. Arizona is hot, but we don’t always get to choose where we’ll end up, do we?” I asked rhetorically.

“I know exactly what you mean.” She smiled and I knew that from now on, each time her mouth curved, I’d weaken. I failed to realize that the number of my weaknesses toward her would grow with time until she completely consumed me. And why was she looking at me like she actually did know? Relocation for a priest wasn’t optional; and mine had been mandatory.

“So, you live here, then?” she asked.

“Yes. Good, well, it was a pleasure meeting you, again, Kate. I’m looking forward to working with you at the ministry.”

It was what a priest should have said to a parishioner, nothing more. Or at least I was trying to convince myself of that. I stepped away, indicating that I had to leave, and her smile vanished.

“We should schedule a meeting to go over the retreat itinerary next month.”

Was I reading her wrong? Did she want me tostay?

“I trust your experience and judgment.” I checked my watch, hoping to be as discreet as possible. If I stayed in her presence any longer, the man part of me would break his every promise toGod.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean now. I’m in a rush as well. I’ll stop by tomorrow, and we can arrange a time that would work foryou.”

“Great.”

“God bless, Father.”

“God bless.”

I turned around with relief, content to head to the rectory to catch up on work. Being a priest wasn’t exactly long hours of rest and prayer.

“Father Cameron.” I heard a gurgling cough from the side. “Father Cameron. It’s Tuesday evening. I usually give the sacrament of reconciliation on Tuesday evenings, but as you can hear, it’s a little difficult today.” He coughed again, this time forcing a chunk of something green to overfill the soaked handkerchief.

I held back the gag and looked up to the ceiling, thinking how there must have been someone up there who thought this was funny, because I sure didn’t. It had been less than a month since I’d left the hospital, and I wasn’t planning on returning because of some stupid virus I caught from a sixty-year-old.

“You’ll take my place in the confessional. It’s only a half-hour schedule on Tuesdays.”

Wait, what?

“It’s rare anyone ever shows up, but we cannot miss it.” He nudged me forward.

I thought the paperwork I’d filled out when I first moved here specifically stated that confessions weren’t part of the job. I couldn’t. It wasn’t right. I wasn’t prepared. But Father John had a tendency to forget. In addition to being senile, he was definitely showing the first signs of Alzheimer’s.

By the time I realized what was happening, my ass plopped down in a cushioned seat and a red-curtained door closed shut. The claustrophobic space reminded me of a photography darkroom.

The click of high heels echoed, the sound intensifying with each step. My body ceased to function as I stiffened, wondering how I’d get away from this situation. It was one thing to do a priest’s paperwork, but quite another to listen to someone’s confession when you weren’t supposed to. Only Father John didn’t seem to be aware of my limitations.

The door opened, then closed quietly.

Her smell hit me first, and I shut my eyes and clenched my teeth.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…”

And with these words would begin my torture of listening to her lustful thoughts, dark desires, and sins I’d dreamt could cometrue.

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