Page 3 of Sinned

I rose to my feet as he stepped forward. His hands cupped my face hungrily as his lips closed over mine.

CHAPTER TWO

Six Years Ago

Charles

I glanced at the clock on the wall as Erica Miller, a thin, beautiful red head sashayed into the office. She was one of the newer parishioners at St. Peter’s, but had spoken to me several times after mass. There were only fifteen minutes left to my regularly scheduled confession hours. I always stayed late if I needed to, but I could tell Erica had something else on her mind.

Erica smiled as she sat down in the seat facing mine. She had on a short skirt, high heels, and a tight green blouse with a low neckline.

“Hello, Erica,” I said as I made myself comfortable in my chair.

“Hello, Father McArthur,” she said as she looked around the sparsely furnished office. “This reminds me more of therapy than what I thought confession would be like. Where’s the box?”

“Box? You mean the confessional? Most people don’t like using it, but we still have weekly hours for it. The face-to-face penance is more common now and is a lot like therapy in some ways. I like to call it spiritual therapy. But if you’d prefer the confessional, we can move there.”

“No, no. I like being able to see you. And no one will bother us?” she asked as she nervously turned to look at the closed door.

I tried to cover the confusion in my face, but she must have noticed it. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.

“I mean, I can tell you anything and it stays between us, right?”

“Of course,” I said. “Anything you say here will be in confidence, like any rite of penance.”

She took a deep breath as she looked down at the carpet, then flicked her eyes back up at me.

“Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been five years since my last confession,” she said.

I nodded, making sure to keep my face passive. While I had only been a priest for a year, my background in psychology gave me the experience to administer the sacrament of reconciliation.

“I think I’m addicted to sex,” Erica said with a half smile. “I just can’t get enough of it.”

No pun intended, but I knew she was trying to get a rise out of me. She wasn’t the first and I knew she wouldn’t be the last. Father Liam and I often discussed how the forbidden or taboo made some people want to push the limits even more. Apparently Erica was one of those people.

She rubbed her legs together, making her skirt rise, then crossed her legs. I reached for my legal size notepad and balanced it on my knee, hiding the view I knew would come next.

“If you believe you have an addiction, then you should seek help,” I said.

“What would you do if I told you I wasn’t wearing any panties right now?”

“I’d tell you that there is nothing in the Bible that says that is a sin. We are here for confession, not to discuss your undergarments.”

She pouted as a hurt look appeared on her face. I had been a priest for the past year, in seminary school for four years before that. That made me celibate for over five years, and none of the flirting, inappropriate remarks, or gestures from our parishioners had made me regret that.

While many men were consumed by their lust especially when confronted by the female form. I was not one of them. I was a priest and I stood by the vow I took.

Erica slowly parted her legs as her fingers brushed against her knee and traveled up. I check the time again as I drummed my fingers on the notepad.

“Mrs. Miller, if you have nothing more to confess, then I think you should leave,” I said.

“But I’m not done,” she whined.

I raised an eyebrow and she stood from the chair and fixed her skirt. I reached back to my desk again and picked up a business card for an addictions specialist and handed it to her.

“I suggest you call them before you think about acting this way in front of a priest,” I said as I stood from my chair.

“So, nothing?” she asked.