Confession (2)

Father Julian’s POV

Saturday night. It was embarrassing to admit how hard it was to find Candy’s workplace. I should have quit then; I should have quit after driving to the seventh club and asking patrons if they knew a "Candy." I shouldn’t have gotten out at the eighth spot, fueled by the fear that someone might recognize me.

Yet, here I was at Sin’s Delight. The bass pounded in a rhythm against my ribs. I stood at the edge of the VIP lounge, the collar of my black jacket turned up, hiding a neck that felt naked without the plastic tab.

I told myself I was here to understand her world, to be a better shepherd. It was a lie. I was here because the ghost of her voice had haunted my prayers all night long, and I was hungry for a woman whose face I didn’t even know.

Then the lights shifted to a dim purple. The music slowed to a soft grind, and she stepped onto the stage. My breath hitched in my throat. I knew instantly she was the one. I had spent the night conjuring an image of her, and she fit it perfectly. Long blonde hair with enchanting blue eyes like clouds on a sunny day.

I stood paralyzed. She was "Candy." She was the woman who had turned my confessional into a sinner’s booth. She was clad in the same gold strap bikini set she had spoken about. She was right; it left nothing to the imagination.

Her eyes scanned the room absentmindedly until they landed on me. She stopped. The transition was so subtle only I noticed, the slight tilt of her head, the widening of her pupils. A slow, dangerous smile crept across her face. She didn't keep dancing for the room. She climbed down from the stage, weaving through the outstretched hands of men who looked ready to devour her. I couldn’t blame them; she looked utterly ravishing.

She walked straight to me.

“You look like you’re looking for someone,” she said, leaning in. The vanilla scent hit me square in the face. “Or maybe you’re looking for me?” Her eyes twinkled as they searched my face.

She was too close for comfort. I felt exposed under her intense scrutiny. “I’m just passing through,” I managed to rasp. I struggled to maintain eye contact, terrified that if she stared hard enough, she would figure out who I was.

“Nobody just ‘passes through’ Sin’s Delight,” she whispered. She grabbed my hand suddenly; her palm was small and soft as she led me toward the VIP lounge.

I didn't resist. I followed her like a lamb to the slaughter.

She pushed me into the plush seat and stepped between my knees before I could find my footing. The music outside sounded distant as she began to move. Her hands slowly slid over her body, cupping her breasts, pushing them forward until they almost spilled out of her clothes.

“I-I didn’t pay for a private dance…” I stuttered.

“It’s on the house,” she answered sweetly.

Her hands wandered over her hips, tracing the lines of her own body while her eyes stayed locked on mine.

“You’re very quiet,” she whispered. She leaned down, her hair brushing against my cheek as she ground her hips against my thigh. The friction was devastating. “Do I know you? There’s something about the way you look at me... like you’re judging me and wanting me all at once.”

The blood traveled to my ears. I could see the fine sheen of sweat on her chest and along her cleavage, the way the light caught the gold strap digging into her skin.

“No,” I choked out. “We’ve never met.”

“Oh? Why does it seem like we have?” she teased, her lips brushing my earlobe. She pressed closer, squishing her breasts against my chest, forcing a low groan from my throat. “You don’t feel like a stranger. I feel like I’ve spoken to you before.”

My throat bobbed as I swallowed. I slipped my hand into my pocket to hold my rosary, counting the beads. She ran a thumb over my lower lip, her gaze dropping to my mouth. I felt the stirring between my legs instantly; my hands did nothing to hide the visible bulge in my pants, and she hadn’t even truly touched me yet.

Her eyes followed mine, her lips curling into a mischievous smile when she saw the tent my pants had created. “Aren’t we excited!” she exclaimed cheerily. The beat dropped, and she stood to her feet. When her eyes met mine again, they had darkened. The mood switched instantly.

She circled me slowly, like a predator eyeing her prey. She grabbed my shoulders from behind, leaning closer until her scent was intoxicating. “You’re about to have the time of your life, Daddy…” she whispered in my ear.

My breath caught in my throat as goosebumps spread over my skin.

Her hands wandered down over my chest and abdomen until she palmed my erection. The ache was so sharp I nearly doubled over.

She sauntered in front of me, those sultry ocean eyes never leaving mine. She began to caress her body slowly to the beat. She looked like she was silently moaning as she kneaded her breasts, her thumbs flicking over her nipples.

I gripped the edge of my seat to steady myself. I wanted to rip the gold fabric off her so badly. As if she could hear my thoughts, she pushed down one strap and then the other, until her top came off, baring her breasts to me.

My dick was rock hard at this point.

“Candy, I don’t th—”

“I never told you my name,” she interrupted.

I froze for only a second and then stood up abruptly, nearly bumping into her.

“I have to go,” I said, not looking at her.

“But we were only just getting started…”

I didn't look back. I ran.

I slammed the door of my quarters and collapsed against the wood, my chest heaving. The silence of the rectory was deafening, a cold contrast to the neon hell I’d just left. I was shaking. I could still feel the ghost of her touch everywhere.

I stumbled toward the small crucifix on the wall and fell to my knees. My hands fumbled for my rosary, but I dropped it. The beads clattered on the floor.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” I whispered to the empty room. My voice broke. “It has been... two hours since my last confession.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, but I didn't see the Virgin Mary. I saw gold straps. I saw the way her breasts spilled over that scrap of fabric.

“I went there. I sought it out,” I sobbed, my forehead pressing against the cool wood of my desk. “I watched her. My God, I watched her and I didn’t turn away. I wanted to see everything she described. I let her touch me. I wanted the sin.”

I reached down, my hand trembling as I felt the hard, painful bulge in my slacks. The shame was a heavy burden, but the desire was a fire I couldn't put out.

“I lied to her face. I denied the truth in a house of vice, just like Peter denied Christ. But I wasn’t afraid of death... I was afraid of her knowing who I was.”

I gripped the edge of the desk, my knuckles white, as I thought of her leaning into my ear. “You are about to have the time of your life, Daddy.”

I lowered my head. “I liked it when she called me Daddy. I found I preferred it to Father.”

“Forgive me, Father,” I gasped, my breath hitching. “Because I’m not going to stop seeing her. I’m going back on Friday, and I don't think I'm going there to save her soul. I'm going there to lose mine.”

I stayed on the floor for hours, the scent of vanilla still clinging to my skin, waiting for a forgiveness that I knew wasn't coming. Friday was five days away. It felt like an eternity.