Bad Habits: A Dark Anthology

by Yolanda Olson

  I stand mesmerised by the nude nun literally devouring a man on the altar, her pale skin illuminated by moonlight as she rocks atop him, strangling him with a leather belt and slicing his skin with a knife. The man’s hands fall limply after she’s done, and I feel a rush of fear. But my concern for him is outweighed by my reaction to her. She is utter perfection. A dark goddess in this holy place. Father Thomas stands watching the scene, praying? What is this place? What are they doing? I cringe when I watch him finger fuck the little minx while she's splayed across the other man who still isn’t moving.

  Father Thomas lets her leave, dejected and devastated when he wouldn’t take it further. Her eyes widen when she sees me, her arms wrapping around her clothing which she holds close to her small frame. I duck farther into the shadows as Father Thomas exits the church.

  Soon after, two men enter the church and walk toward the bleeding man on the altar. I slip away quickly, intent on following her, only to backtrack when I see Father Thomas entering the room she just went into.

  I’ll wait. I have to know more about her. I’m so hard when I reach my cottage, I have to take a cold shower , but not even that stops me from rubbing one off at the thought of her.

  Father Thomas stands at the front of the church preaching death and damnation for sinners. What a hypocrite. After what I saw last night, how can I take him seriously? She stands from one of the front pews and walks toward the front of the church with a few other nuns, her head held high. The frustrating tunic she wears does nothing for the curves I know are hidden underneath. As if she senses my eyes on her, she turns, then stills when she spots me at the back of the room. Sister Mary Concessa subtly shoves her forward. Your secret is safe with me, I think to myself as I smirk at her. She glares at me before taking her place in the choir. When she opens her mouth, the most beautiful voice I have ever heard leaves her pouty lips. I can’t keep my eyes off her. After the service, I make my way to the front of church where she stands talking to another nun. Her back is to me, yet when I am just inches from her, she spins on her heel.

  “Sisters.” I greet, stunned by her beautiful blue-grey eyes that seem to look into my soul. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Priest. Priest Michaels.” Up close, she is even more breath-taking, prominent cheek bones, pink pouty lips. She’s fucking perfect.

  “Mr. Michaels, I’m Adele, and this is Celeste.” the other woman tells me.

  My eyes lock on Celeste’s, and she doesn’t back down. “Mr. Michaels.” her voice is as sweet as her singing, “it's a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” I nod.

  “You’re new here.” she tells me.

  “That obvious?” My eyes roam down her body, causing a flush to spread across her cheeks. She doesn’t answer me but looks at Adele who has moved on to greet some of the parishioners.

  “I’ve lived here my whole life, there is rarely a face I don’t recognize. If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Michaels-”

  “You can call me, Priest.” I interrupt.

  “Priest,” my name sounds like music when she says it. “Lunch will be served in the hall.” With that, she brushes past me. I catch Father Thomas glaring at me from the other side of the church, and I lift my hand in greeting.

  Celeste sits with the other nuns at their lunch table on the far end of the room. She’s out of place amongst the other women. I watch her move her food around the plate, nodding along to something Adele says to her, her mind obviously elsewhere. I wonder if she’s thinking about last night. She offers me the briefest of glances. I cannot seem to get the image of her from last night out of my mind, and I’ve jerked off at least three times this morning alone.

  The food here is bland, nothing like the feasts I grew accustomed to at home, so I eat as much as I can stomach then push the plate away. The priests and deacons at my table stare at me in dissatisfaction. Wastage is a cardinal sin here, so is conversation apparently. These men look at me like the outsider I am. Being a groundskeepers is pretty low on the value chain.

  “If you’ll excuse me.” I politely stand gathering my plate.

  I stalk out of the hall. I need to get outside, release this pent up frustration.

  My cottage is on the grounds of the church, it’s far enough away to offer me privacy but close enough for them to keep an eye on me. It’s nothing fancy, a standard bedroom consisting of a double bed, desk and wardrobe, a small kitchenette with hardly any appliance, and a bathroom. I change out of my Sunday church clothes and into a t-shirt and work pants.

  Sunday is ordinarily a day of rest, but I would much rather spend it in the sun, weeding the church garden under the sweltering hot sun. I’m sweating through my cotton T-shirt.

  “Priest.” Father Thomas calls as he approaches. “You should be resting.”

  I throw down the garden tool and swipe the sweat from my forehead. “There is no rest for the wicked, is there, Father?” I huff. He narrows his eyes at me, like I’m a parasite he wants to exterminate. Afraid I’m going to out you, Father? That isn’t my game.

  “Have you settled in all right?”

  I wonder if this is a trick question. “As well as can be under the circumstances.”

  “I know it’s quite an adjustment, but I do hope that you’ll find solace here. Many men like you have walked into Our Lady of Heavenly Hope seeking forgiveness. They've all left fulfilled.”

  I want to ask him if that is what he was doing last night, helping someone atone for their sins

  I’ve never been a religious man, which I suppose is why my father sent me here. I always found the whole system hypocritical. Case in point. “I am hoping to do just that."

  “It will serve you well to keep your distance from the nuns, Mr. Michaels.”

  And there it is. The real reason he sought me out. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Well, now that that’s settled, I’ll leave you to your gardening.” I don’t miss the gleam of devilry in his eyes.

  I pick up the hoe, raising it over my head, then let it drop, digging into the earth. This is far from settled, Your Reverence.

  Chapter Three

  Celeste

  Every day is the same at Our Lady of Heavenly Hope. It’s difficult to keep track of what day it is. It’s almost as if they’re intertwined, folding seamlessly into each other until it’s impossible to tell them apart. It’s five a.m., and we’re all awake, bathed, and gathered in the church. Mother Superior leads us through the Liturgy of Hours. Sister Concessa looks up at the Mother Superior like she is God herself. I, on the other hand, feel anxious. Father Thomas asked to see me, and my knees tremble in anticipation. After an hour, we’re finally released for private prayer. I make my way to the garden, another of my sacred spaces. Kneeling beneath the large oak tree, I clasp my hands together. I sense Priest before I hear his footfalls. Keeping my eyes shut, I continue my private worship.

  “It is rude to stare, Mr. Michaels.” I say when I’m done.

  “I couldn’t help it.”

  I stand, turning to face him. Despite the chill in the air, he wears a thin T-shirt that stretches over his lean body and black sweat pants. He leans against the wall, his muscular arms folded over his chest. Priest Michaels is a tall man, at least six feet. His shoulder length coffee colored hair is pulled back in a ponytail. His face is angular, his forest green eyes penetrating. He offers me a lopsided grin that sends heat to my cheeks.

  I bow my head and start walking. “I must get started on breakfast.”

  He grips my wrist as I pass by him, halting me in my tracks. “Are you going to explain what I saw the other night?”

  “That is hardly any of your business.” My eyebrows pull together. He has some nerve bringing that up.

  “You’re right, but you’re going to tell me anyway.” He runs his calloused thumb over my wrist. I tug my hands from his grasp.

  “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

  “Why don’t you enlighten me then.”

  “Mr.
Michaels-”

  “Priest,” he interrupts.

  “Priest. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of church business.”

  He snorts. “Church business> You killed a man.”

  My eyes widen. “Keep your voice down.” I hiss.

  “So, are you going to tell me, or do I need to get the authorities involved?” I feel a muscle in my jaw twitch. “Do what you must.” I say simply, stomping away before he can stop me, my heart pounding against my ribcage. I know he won’t say a word. The people who come here do so because they need a place to hide, until whatever they are running from blows over. I know that Priest Michaels is no different.

  I slip into the kitchen, grateful Sister Concessa is nowhere in sight. Tardiness is another thing she won’t tolerate. I wash my hands, which haven’t stopped trembling, and slip on my apron. Priest Michaels is just nosy. I move around the sterile space, gathering ingredients for the bread I’m about to bake. I’m covered in dough when Mary Concessa joins me in the kitchen, pleased to see me hard at work.

  “Come in.” Father Thomas calls. I open his door slowly and enter his office. It’s always dim and dusty in this room, but comforting. I remember the first time I entered this room. I’d just turned sixteen, and it was the first time I realized that the Father was more than just a priest but also a man. A man I desired and would do anything for.

  I take a seat at the desk, opposite him. He’s in his late forties, but he doesn’t look it. His hair is still more ebony than ivory, brushed back. His jaw is strong, clean shaven. A dimple dents his chin. I’ve heard the nuns and novices talking about how his eyes are so dark, they’re almost bottomless. They swoon when he’s not looking. None of them have had him look at them the way he looks at me. They haven’t felt his touch, tasted him the way I have, had him inside them. I press my thighs together at the thought.

  “Have you spoken with Mr. Michaels?” He narrows his eyes at me.

  “Only briefly, Father.” I wring my hands in my lap.

  “We have a confession tonight, Celeste, we cannot afford his kind of interest in you.”

  “He is not interested in me, Father. He was introducing himself.”

  “I am a man, young lady, and I know what men want when they look at you.”

  “Is it what you want?” I meet his gaze.

  He breaks eye contact. “We have spoken about this.” he frowns.

  “Then Mr. Michaels’s interest shouldn’t concern you, Father Thomas.” I’m just saying this to get a rise out of him. The last thing I need is the unwarranted attention from Priest.

  Father Thomas stands and stalks around the desk until he’s standing in front of me. Gripping my chin painfully, he tilts my face until I’m looking up at him. “You will watch your tongue, Celeste. You don’t want to push me to do something we’ll both regret.”

  “Oh, I’m counting on that.” I smirk, and he releases my face. He backs away, sitting in his chair again. Feeling brave, I stand and round his desk, standing beside him. He swings his chair to face me.

  His stare is hard as I drop to my knees in front of him, my hands finding their way over his thighs. I edge closer to his prominent erection, and he grips my wrists.

  “That will be all.” he hisses.

  Rising, I making my way to the door. When I open it, I’m met with Sister Concessa’s stoic face. “There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you.” she says, looking behind me at Father Thomas, her mouth curving into a smile. “The others are waiting for you in devotion.”

  “Sorry to keep you waiting.” I reply, stuffing down the desire to mock her.

  I close the door behind me and follow her down the corridor. Inside the church, I spot Priest in one of the pews at the back. I slip in to the closest pew and watch as Sister Concessa makes her way to the front of the church to lead the devotion, feeling his eyes on my back all the while. I sneak a peek at him, and he smirks at me. I turn back, sucking in a breath. I will have to stay away from him and hope he’ll stop poking his nose where it does not belong.

  After devotion, Priest stops me in the corridor, pulling me into a storeroom.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper.

  He places both his arms on either side of my face, pinning me. My heart is beating a million miles a minute, his eyes locking with mine. “Shh.” he tells me.

  His lips close over mine with a kiss that steals my breath away. He captures my lips expertly as his fingers move to my throat. I let him slip his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like a terrible mistake, but I lose myself in the sensations he ignites in me. His hands roam over my body and settle on my ass which he squeezes painfully as he continues to kiss me. I push against his chest, my hand connecting with his face.

  He steps away, still grinning as he rubs his cheek. “You prefer old fucks, do you?”

  “Shut up.” My lower lip quivers. “Don’t come near me again.” I warn him.

  “No can do. If I see something I like, I’m going to have it, whether that sick pervert approves or not. Hell, I’ll fuck you right after he does. Do you like feeling cheap, unwanted? He lets you fuck men in front of him, Sister Celeste.” he mocks.

  I am taken aback by his brashness. “I am not going to stand here and have this conversation with you.” I open the door and rush away from him.

  “The truth stings,” he calls after me.

  I don’t bother turning, heading straight to class. I am already ten minutes late.

  I slip into the back of the classroom but not before Sister Concessa spots me. I know there will be punishment for this.

  Chapter Four

  Priest

  The last person I expect to see when I walk into the church is my mother. She looks smaller than the last time I set eyes on her. She stares at the bulletin board as if anything on it is of interest to her. She’s in her signature pant suit, a cream colored one, her dirty blonde hair pulled into a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She smiles broadly when she spots me out of the corner of her eye. I close the distance between us, but neither of us makes a move to embrace. That is not the Michaels way. God forbid we should show our true feelings. She clutches her bag instead. “Priest, how wonderful to see you.”

  “What do you want, Mother?” I sigh. There has to be a reason for her visit. Missing me is definitely not it.

  “Is that the way to welcome me? I haven’t seen you in a month.” Folding my arms over my chest, I smirk. “Mother, I’ve been on a long drinking binge.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Priest, the least you could do is be grateful.”

  When I don’t respond, she clears her throat. “Your father has a press appearance in a month, and we were hoping you’ll be ready to make a statement, about this new lifestyle you’ve adopted.”

  And there it is. The real reason she is here. I should have known it had something to do with my father and his campaign. When he announced that I’d be joining the church, he climbed up the polls.

  “Whatever.” I say dismissively.

  “He’s done all he can, son. You could show some appreciation and support for his work.”

  There are so many things I want to say to her. “Fine.” I say instead which seems to appease her.

  She looks around the church, and shudders. “This place gives me the creeps.” she scowls. “I’ll be on my way then.” She places a hand on my arm, patting it twice.

  “I’ll walk you out.” I tell her. She gives me a tight-lipped smile as I lead her out to where a limousine is parked, waiting. I watch her walk away and wonder why on earth that conversation couldn’t have taken place over the phone.

  Being an only child in my family is bad enough, but having a politician for a father is a death sentence. I jog out to the shed, grab a pair of gloves, and make my way to the old building that’s being refurbished.

  “Priest. I thought you weren’t coming by today.” The handyman yells from the roof.

  “I got bored.” I tell him. The truth is, losing myself in har
d labour has been my saving grace in this place. I work myself to the point of exhaustion every single day to avoid thinking about my issues. No matter how exhausted, my thoughts continue to revert to Celeste. She might be just the distraction I need.

  She’s on her knees working in the garden when I start out on my morning jog. I wait for her to finish her prayers then step outside. She spins around when she hears my footsteps, rising quickly. Under normal circumstances, I would never try to seduce a nun. These women commit their lives to their faith, and I respect that. But, Celeste, she’s no nun. She’s a sexy siren, luring me to my fate. I just have to make her see that she’s much more than a priest's plaything, unless the priest is me. She bows her head and tries to push past me.

  “Not so fast, beautiful.” I tell her, gripping her forearm.

  “Let me go, Priest.” she hisses. Ignoring her plea, I pull her close to me, securing her with an arm around her waist. She gasps when my erection presses against her.

  “Can you feel what you do to me?” I run my nose along her face and down her neck, loving the way her breathing quickens. She stamps down on my foot causing me to stagger back. “I said leave me alone.” She says through gritted teeth.