by Claire Adams
So Sunday morning, I woke up riding waves of nausea that would have rivaled a tsunami. Miserable didn’t describe the feelings that were tearing through my body. My head hurt so badly that my brain felt as if it would swell beyond my skull’s capacity and cause it to explode. I was so dehydrated that my mouth actually hurt. It was the only thing that got me out of bed that day or I may have skipped mass and called in sick.
I had to have a drink of water. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and my feet were met with a cold, sticky floor. I looked down and realized I’d left the bottle on the floor and the half an inch or so of liquor left had seeped out and I was stepping in it. I was a pathetic mess; if my grandmother could have seen me, she would have been so ashamed.
I finally made it to the kitchen for a bottle of water and then to the shower. After my shower and a handful of aspirin, I was feeling better. Not normal, but better. I dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white button down shirt. I made sure my shoes were shiny and my hair was combed respectfully. I used deodorant and mouthwash, and when I walked into the vestry at St. Luke’s, I almost felt as if I belonged there. I at least looked the part.
I was met by the priest who had been caring for the parish temporarily until I was put in place—Father Byrnes. The other priest had just taken off, and as far as I knew, no one knew where he had gone. I wondered briefly if his grandmother died, then I said a prayer for him and one for me, too.
“We are so happy to have you here, Father Jace.” Father Byrnes was a much older man and his hands felt like parchment paper as he took one of mine between them.
“Thank you, Father Byrne. I’m happy to be here.” I wasn’t lying. I’d really been excited to be a part of this parish. I’d heard great things about the people there and that they had an active congregation, which I was looking forward to. The church held dinners and dances to raise funds for parishioners in need. Whatever was leftover was given to the Children’s Hospital. That hospital would be a regular stop for me every week once I took over the parish. I loved kids, so I was looking forward to that, as well.
But, then my grandmother died and I lost my mind…and God help me, I couldn't stop drinking. I went through the motions of mass that Sunday with Father Byrne, and then I tolerated the meet and greet with the congregation afterward. They’d surprised me with a potluck, which was good, I guess. I couldn’t really remember the last time I’d eaten anything of substance.
It was excruciating, however, because as nice as everyone was and as blessed as I knew I was to be there, all I wanted to do was go back to my dark apartment and drink myself into another stupor. I was so ashamed.
Monday’s hangover wasn’t quite as bad as Sunday’s, and by Tuesday, I was actually getting good at maintaining my blood alcohol level high enough to keep from getting the hangover at all.
The guilt ate away at me each time I began to sober up, so I made sure that I didn’t. I knew I had to stop. I should have called my brother, Father Byrne, or my Bishop in Boston. But each time I reached for the phone, I thought about the shame I was about to bring on myself and I chose instead to keep my binge a secret and deal with the Lord one-on-one about it.
I agreed to sit in for Father Byrne at confession on Wednesday…and then on Thursday it would be my turn to confess and I would have to make some hard decisions about what I was willing to say out loud. But today it was Tuesday, so I decided to think about it later.
I wasn’t worried that I’d suddenly become an alcoholic. Before all of this, a glass of wine once a week was the most I ever drank. I didn’t crave alcohol and I didn’t even particularly like it. There was just something about my grandmother’s death that triggered old memories from when I was a kid…bad memories that I’d suppressed for a very long time.
Grandma let us talk about them as much as we needed to, but things were so warm, comfortable, and safe living with her that we could soon put those feelings in a box and seal them. We didn’t have to take them out and look at them unless we chose to.
I never chose to, but since Grandma died, I was forced to. The alcohol helped me forget and it also numbed the pain that came with losing her. I had so much repenting to do…on Thursday, but not until then.
I was out of scotch.
I pulled on a t-shirt and jeans and ran my fingers through my hair. Once I slipped on my black, leather boots I checked my reflection. There was no sign on my forehead that said “Fallen Priest.” I looked like any other 31-year-old guy. I grabbed my keys and went in search of a dark, quiet bar.
Chapter Four
Daphne
I held onto his arm as we walked. The night air was cool and refreshing, and I think I may have been sobering up…a little bit. We hadn’t walked far before he stopped at a two-story house that looked like it had been converted into walk-up apartments.
“This is me,” he said. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”
“Oh no! I don’t…I mean, I…” I was suddenly afraid that “coffee” didn’t mean “coffee.” I don’t do random hook-ups in bars, but I was just drunk enough not to trust myself not to accept if he offered.
He laughed.
“Coffee is the only thing on my mind,” he said. “Trust me.”
When he looked at me with those soft, warm, green eyes, I did trust him. It might also be the four drinks on an empty stomach.
“Okay, maybe a coffee before I head home.”
Famous last words.
“Good,” he said, unlocking the bottom door. He let us in and we held onto each other and the wall as we made our way up the stairs to the second floor.
The heat and feel of his body on the narrow staircase overwhelmed all of my senses. If I’d had any left, I would have gone home right then. When he let go of my arm to unlock his apartment door, I was trembling.
He pushed the door open and said, “Welcome to my humble abode. Excuse the mess; I’m just moving in.” I stepped inside and looked around. There were boxes everywhere, but it wasn’t really a mess. It was more of an organized chaos.
“Where are you moving in from?”
“Boston,” he said, making his way to the small, open kitchen. I watched him make a pot of coffee. He filled out his jeans so nicely.
“Oh,” I said, not telling him I’d just moved from Boston, too. The next obvious question would be why and I was definitely not going to discuss that with a stranger.
“I have to pee.” That was the second time I’d spoken to this man about my bladder. That was another good reason for me to never drink again.
He laughed. I really liked the sound of it. I also loved the dimples and the little laugh lines around his eyes. “Follow me,” he said.
He led me a few steps down a short hall and we turned into what I could only assume was his bedroom. The bathroom was through the bedroom. Strange set up — and convenient if you were trying to get into a drunken girl’s pants.
I narrowed my eyes to let him know I was onto him. Unfortunately, my bladder was too full to back out. I wobbled into the bathroom and closed the door. There were still boxes on the counter in there, too. I thought about snooping through them, but he was probably still standing there waiting for me. I didn’t want to get caught.
I locked the door and pulled up my skirt. I started to sit down and suddenly remembered my panties. I pulled those down and sat. I did my business, washed my hands, and found the hot guy standing in the same spot waiting for me. I’m not sure why, but I suddenly blurted out,
“I don’t usually drink!”
He smiled knowingly and stepped towards me. “Neither do I,” he said. He was really close. Too close…yet, I didn’t want him to back up…not even a little bit. “I don’t usually do this, either.”
Before I could respond, he’d dipped his head down and our lips connected. He kissed me, tentatively at first, like he was waiting for me to pull away, or slap him. I didn’t do either.
The feel of his lips as they brushed across mine sent little jolts of e
lectricity through me and started a fire in my belly. I did just the opposite of pulling away — I leaned into it and kissed him back. His lips were soft and full and tasted like sweet alcohol. I wanted more.
I let my lips fall open and I felt his tongue begin to probe my mouth. He tasted and licked and even sucked on my tongue as I melted into him. His strong arms were the only thing holding me up as my already woozy head became intoxicated by the touch and smell and taste of him.
When he pulled back to catch his breath and he looked at my face, I could see another chance for me to protest in his eyes. I knew that I should. But I didn’t want to. I wanted him. I’d never felt the kind of passion and need swelling up inside of me that I felt that night.
I moved back towards him, and this time when our lips met, there was nothing at all tentative about it. This was a hot, passionate kiss.
His hands were no longer content to sit chastely on my waist. They were roaming the curves of my body causing me to quiver all over. I wanted to feel them on my bare skin.
I wanted to feel him. I briefly wondered if I should tell him I was a virgin, but as his hands covered my breasts and his fingers began to massage my nipples through my shirt, all rational thought became a thing of the past. The decision to walk out of there without my virginity was as good as cemented.
He ran his hands up to my face and cupped it. Then he pulled out of the kiss and drew his thumb across my lips, tracing the outline. It was intimate and sweet and they parted again of their own accord, a desperate sign of my desire.
I had no idea what I was doing. I didn't do this; I’ve never done this. I was just winging it. My body was driving me at that point. It was instinct.
He actually whimpered when I took his thumb between my lips. I brought my hand up and pressed the rest of his fingers to my lips and starting with the little one, I pressed each slowly against my mouth and kissed it, letting my mouth fall open a bit more with each one. He was watching me in a drunken state of awe, silent.
When I finished with his fingers, I pressed his open palm to my lips and drew them down to his wrist. I drew my tongue down along his arm and he moaned. His head dropped back and closed his eyes. I was encouraged, so I kept going. I licked back up the hard muscle of his arm until I reached his hand again. I took his index finger into my mouth and I sucked on it and then bit down very gently. His chest was heaving against me as I gave his wrist one last kiss and let go. He opened his eyes and locked them into mine.
“Dear God…” It was said in a reverent whisper, and it caused my entire body to convulse. I had my hands pressed into his hard chest now, and he was still staring at me. His eyes were a mixture of lust, desire, and something else that I couldn’t quite figure out. Maybe it was because I was drunk…maybe because I knew I would regret it myself…but he looked a little bit guilty.
I fleetingly wondered if he was married, but the thought was gone as he pulled me into him again and kissed me hungrily. Kissed may not even be the right word. It was more like possession. He possessed my mouth and devoured it as I willingly gave myself over to him.
I boldly slid my hands underneath his t-shirt as we kissed and slowly moved it up his body. When it got to his arms, he broke the kiss to pull it off over his head. The light from the moon was shining in through the window, and he looked like he should be posing for the cover of a romance novel.
His body was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Every muscle was hard and defined, like he’d been sculpted out of concrete. I let my hands roam across his chest, and my fingers happily traced the taut contours all the way down to the hard ripples of his abdomen.
“You’re beautiful,” I breathed out before I even realized I was speaking. He smiled, proving my point. He reached up and ran his hands through my long, blonde hair.
Then he put his mouth close to my ear and whispered, “No, you’re the one who is beautiful.” The feel of his warm breath and the vibrations of his voice sent goosebumps racing down my arms and my spine.
I stood on my tip toes and kissed him again. This kiss was even harder and more urgent. His teeth scraped along the outside of my bottom lip, and I whimpered.
He slid his hands down my sides then and around behind me, placing one on each cheek of my round butt, squeezing and massaging lightly through my skirt.
I was on auto-pilot. I reached up and unhooked the button on the side of it. It slid down and he moved his warm hands, letting it fall to the floor around my ankles. I gasped when I felt the heat of his hands on my waist underneath my blouse. He pushed it up and I pulled back slightly and raised my arms so that he could get it over my head.
His eyes roamed my body then, like a man who had been stranded alone on an island…or imprisoned only with other men. It was like I was the first woman he’d laid eyes on in quite some time.
Chapter Five
Daphne
He took a deep breath and once again he said, “Beautiful.” If he kept saying it like that, with that look in his eyes, I might just believe it.
His hands went to the waistband of his jeans and it was my turn to watch as he unbuttoned them and let them slide to the floor. When neither of us had anything on but underwear, he lay back on the bed, pulling me down with him. I landed on top, and running on pure instinct once again, I swung one leg over his torso so that I was straddling him.
That was when I felt his hard cock pressing through his boxers and into my upper thigh. I felt a tickle of anxiety, or maybe anticipation, in my core. The dampness between my legs that had soaked through my panties caused me to slide against his hard thigh. His hands were on my waist and he moved them up and down until he finally let them land on my back.
I leaned down to kiss him. My hair fell forward and created a soft canopy for us as we kissed. I felt his fingers unhook the clasp on the back of my bra. I sat up on top of him as it fell forward and my breasts shook free.
He reached up and took my breasts in his hands again, with a look of awe. He squeezed and massaged them, letting his thumbs trace a path around my nipples. “Gosh…” he whispered before raising the top part of his body up off the bed and taking one of them into his mouth.
“Oh my…” Things inside my head were exploding and the moisture between my legs was getting out of hand.
He sucked and licked one breast for what seemed like an eternity before moving his mouth over and taking the other in between his lips. I was grinding myself down against his hard cock shamelessly.
I’d never wanted anything as much in my life as I wanted that man. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe just the idea of taking a risk for a change, doing something different. Whatever it was, there was no turning back now.
When he moved from my breast, I bent and caught his lips with mine. I sucked his bottom lip into my mouth and licked and nipped at it. I felt him shudder underneath me, and that got me more turned on. His hands were back on my breasts, manipulating my nipples and making me want to scream out in ecstasy.
I drew my lips down the side of his face and to his neck. I lapped at his defined collarbone with my tongue. His hands were on the backs of my thighs, rubbing them up and down, letting his hands run up and over the curve of my ass each time.
The feel of him touching my naked body spurred me on. I slowly raked my tongue down his chest, lapping along the smooth, hard lines of his skin. I still didn’t know what I was doing; I was moving forward on instinct alone.
I licked my way down to his stomach and as my head dipped lower, his hands came up and rested on my shoulders. He slid them around to my upper back and began to massage me as I kissed and licked my way down his body. When my lips met the waistband of his boxers, I didn’t even have to ask. His hands were at the elastic and he pushed them down quickly…out of my way. I watched with lust coiling in my belly as his long, thick cock sprang free. He was so hard he was throbbing with each beat of his heart.
I gently brushed my fingers across it, and with his primal-sounding moan, an overwhelming desire to hold i
t and feel it throb and pulse in my hand came over me. I grabbed it, wrapped my hand all the way around it, and squeezed gently. He let out another long, deep moan that didn’t sound human as I started to move my hand up and down the length of him, stroking him gently.
Surprising myself, I bent my head down even lower and I took him into my mouth. I held onto the base and continued to stroke him with my hand as I took the head of his cock in and out of my wet mouth. It was a strange feeling, but beautiful, all at the same time.
"Oh, dear God..." he gasped, looking down at me. I smiled up at him with my mouth full of his cock. He offered a weak smile back and then let his head fall back into the pillows piled on the bed behind him.
As I sucked and licked my way up and down his hard cock, he groaned, moaned, and made sexy little noises. He wrapped his hands up in my hair and used it to guide me to where he wanted to feel my lips. He suddenly pulled harder and brought his hips up off the bed. He wanted me to go faster, so I obliged. As I moved my head up and down on him, I let my tongue slide along the underside of his shaft. He was so hard and hot against my lips and the taste of his flesh was like an aphrodisiac.
I was out of my mind with lust. I sucked him until I felt him tug on my hair and pull me off of him. My lips released him with a “pop” and they felt swollen and full. I saw his eyes fall to them as he sat all the way up and pressed his into mine. I fell forward against his chest.
God, he felt good. I was slightly disappointed at first when he broke the kiss to lift me up off of him and roll me onto my back…but the feeling didn’t last long.
He grinned down at me and my guts twisted into a desperate knot. Then, he bent down and pressed a kiss between my breasts. I sighed as he brought the kiss up to my right breast. He cupped it in one hand as the other rested on my shoulder.
