‘Do you know how many times I’ve stumbled across women masturbating in my church?’
We were at dinner now, he was sat across the table from me pushing additional servings my way, his apparent delight at having someone to dine with was infectious. His new question stopped me in my tracks though, and I lowered my gaze from his beautiful face and answered him as I stared at the dinner he had made me, that I no longer felt like I deserved.
‘I really hope it isn’t more than one, that honestly seems like one too many right now.’
‘Don’t be daft, and look at me.’
I raised my eyes at his command, his face was bright and smiling and I wondered for the first time what kind of priest he actually was and more importantly what kind of man. Up until now, it hadn’t occurred to me that his actions were driven by his manhood and not his priesthood, but now something fluttered in my belly and a nervous excitement tingled upon my flesh.
‘39. You are number 40. Do you know how many of those women took my hand when it was offered?’
Again I was silent, my eyes were gripped by his, something was happening, I understood that much now, but I didn’t know what. I only knew that the answer to his question was one, but could not bring myself to say it in case h asked me if I knew why that was. Thankfully he saved me.
‘One. Just you. You took my hand and you allowed me to lead you and that was when I knew you had finally come home.’
As I repeated the word, I knew he did not mean the walls of this church or the furnishings of his house, he meant him.
He was my home.
To be continued …