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<v Speaker 1>The church was almost empty, just the faint smell of

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<v Speaker 1>wax and old wood and the red glow of the

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<v Speaker 1>sanctuary lamp, watching like a single unblinking eye. Father Patrick

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<v Speaker 1>was only thirty one, the youngest priest Saint Agnes had

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<v Speaker 1>ever ordained. They still whispered about why a man that

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<v Speaker 1>beautiful had taken vows. Ten years ago. He'd been just Patrick,

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<v Speaker 1>the kind of boy who made sorority girls drop their

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<v Speaker 1>books in the quad. He'd loved one woman with every

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<v Speaker 1>reckless beat of his heart. She left him at the

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<v Speaker 1>altar in front of four hundred guests, veil fluttering behind

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<v Speaker 1>her like surrender. The humiliation carved something raw inside him.

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<v Speaker 1>He disappeared into seminary the same week, shaved his head

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<v Speaker 1>for a while, starved himself on bread and silence until

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<v Speaker 1>the ache dulled to a bruise he could carry. He

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<v Speaker 1>thought the collar would protect him. He thought desire had

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<v Speaker 1>died with that abandoned wedding. Until tonight, eleven seven pm.

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<v Speaker 1>The church was cold. The Radiator's long dead Father Patrick

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<v Speaker 1>knelt in the confessional, rosary wrapped tight around his knuckles,

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<v Speaker 1>rehearsing the Act of contrition under his breath, like armor.

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<v Speaker 1>Then the other door opened. Bless me, father, for I

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<v Speaker 1>have sinned. The voice shot straight to his heart. He froze,

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<v Speaker 1>how long since your last confession? A low laugh, Ha,

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<v Speaker 1>since before you put on that collar? Patrick. His heart's

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<v Speaker 1>slammed once, hard enough to crack a rib through the lattice.

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<v Speaker 1>He saw only shadow in the glint of a silver

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<v Speaker 1>chain disappearing into cleavage. But he knew that perfume, He

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<v Speaker 1>knew that laugh ten years dissolved like incense in water.

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<v Speaker 1>Say my name, she whispered, Say it like you used

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<v Speaker 1>to when you begged me not to leave. His throat worked.

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<v Speaker 1>Then he whispered defensively. This, this is a sacrilege. Sacrilege,

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<v Speaker 1>she echoed softly, almost tenderly, then let out a shuddering

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<v Speaker 1>sigh as her hand moved. Listen, that's the sound of

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<v Speaker 1>the girl who should have been your wife, touching the

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<v Speaker 1>place you first claimed. The wet circles grew faster, obscene,

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<v Speaker 1>in the hush of the church. I ran because I

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<v Speaker 1>was terrified of how much I needed you. I've been

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<v Speaker 1>empty for ten years. Fail me again, Patrick, even if

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<v Speaker 1>it's only with your voice, your forgiveness. I'm on my knees, pleading,

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<v Speaker 1>ruin your vows for me, I'm yours. He listened attentively.

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<v Speaker 1>He could hear the fabric of her dress shifting and

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<v Speaker 1>a soft, deliberate sigh. Then she whispered back, I'm touching

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<v Speaker 1>myself right now, Patrick, ride here in your sacred little box.

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<v Speaker 1>Do you want to hear how wet confessing to you

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<v Speaker 1>makes me? He should have rung the bell for the Sacristan,

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<v Speaker 1>should have fled into the night instead, his forehead pressed

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<v Speaker 1>to the wood partition as if he could reach through it.

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<v Speaker 1>I left because I was weak, he rasped, controlling his voice,

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<v Speaker 1>still whispering. I swore i'd never you swore a lot

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<v Speaker 1>of things. She cut in gently, by your body, never

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<v Speaker 1>lied to me. Then Patrick heard a slick sound, slow,

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<v Speaker 1>filthy circles. His eyes widened, staring hard through the lattice,

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<v Speaker 1>unsure what he might see. She continued, her voice cracking

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<v Speaker 1>with something deeper than lust, regret, raw and aching Patrick.

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<v Speaker 1>I made a mistake, the biggest mistake of my life,

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<v Speaker 1>leaving you that day. I was scared, stupid, running from

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<v Speaker 1>something too real. I'm so sorry, God, I'm so sorry.

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<v Speaker 1>The words hung in the dark, mingling with the wet

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<v Speaker 1>rhythm of her fingers, plunging deeper faster now, as if

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<v Speaker 1>punishing herself with pleasure. I want you back, she begged,

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<v Speaker 1>voice trembling on the edge of tears and ecstasy. I

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<v Speaker 1>never stopped wanting you. No one else ever came close.

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<v Speaker 1>Please forgive me, take me back. I'm yours, Patrick always was.

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<v Speaker 1>I'm fingering myself thinking of you, begging you like this

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<v Speaker 1>because I can't live without you any more. Her please

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<v Speaker 1>turned desperate, hips grinding against her hand, the slick sounds

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<v Speaker 1>growing louder, obscene. In the holy silence, she continued begging him, desperately,

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<v Speaker 1>trying to seduce him. Remember the night before our weddin,

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<v Speaker 1>we took each other's virginity. You fucked me in the bridle,

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<v Speaker 1>sweet Patrick, Remember against the mirror so I could watch

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<v Speaker 1>you lose control. His cock surged so fast it hurt,

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<v Speaker 1>Trapped beneath layers of black wool and guilt. He bit

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<v Speaker 1>down on his fist to keep from groaning. Tell me

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<v Speaker 1>to stop, she breathed, and I will or tell me

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<v Speaker 1>to keep going until I come screaming the name of

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<v Speaker 1>the man who should have been my husband. His hand

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<v Speaker 1>moved without permission, fumbling buttons, shoving fabric aside. When he

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<v Speaker 1>wrapped trembling fingers around himself, it felt like the first

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<v Speaker 1>mortal sin he'd ever truly wanted describe it. He heard

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<v Speaker 1>himself beg the same broken voice that had pleaded with

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<v Speaker 1>her not to leave him a decade ago. I have

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<v Speaker 1>three fingers inside me now, she whimpered, voice shaking with

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<v Speaker 1>pleasure and sorrow, stretching myself the way you used to.

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<v Speaker 1>I'm dripping down my thighs onto your pretty velvet kneeler

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<v Speaker 1>when I come. I want you to come with me.

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<v Speaker 1>I want you to ruin those perfect vows the same

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<v Speaker 1>way you ruined me for any other man. Please, Patrick,

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<v Speaker 1>come back to me. He stroked himself in frantic silence.

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<v Speaker 1>Every pump a betrayal, every breath of prayer turned inside out.

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<v Speaker 1>The lattice rattled faintly. He realized he was thrusting against

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<v Speaker 1>it like an animal. I'm close, she whimpered, Patrick, look

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<v Speaker 1>at me, forgive me, love me again, against every shred

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<v Speaker 1>of sanity. He leaned closer to the screen. The dim

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<v Speaker 1>red glow painted his face in blood light, and there

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<v Speaker 1>she was, her eyes, those same, lost, desperate eyes staring

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<v Speaker 1>back at him, repentant. The silence stretched, why now, after

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<v Speaker 1>all this time? But the answer was already burning in

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<v Speaker 1>those eyes. Come for me, father, she ordered through her begging.

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<v Speaker 1>Come while you damn your soul and take me back.

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<v Speaker 1>He broke with a strangled cry, spilling hot over his fist,

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<v Speaker 1>his cassock, the confessional floor, ten years of penance dissolving

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<v Speaker 1>in ropes of white. On her side. She arched thighs, trembling,

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<v Speaker 1>a low keen tearing from her throat as she followed

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<v Speaker 1>him over silence, only the wet sound of their breathing

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<v Speaker 1>and the slow drip of what they'd done. Her voice

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<v Speaker 1>drifted through the lattice, soft and loving, almost a prayer.

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<v Speaker 1>I'll keep coming back every Saturday on my knees until

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<v Speaker 1>you absolve me, my love, until you come back to me.

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<v Speaker 1>The door closed, heels faded down the aisle. Father Patrick

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<v Speaker 1>stayed on his knees until dawn, sticky and shaking, the

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<v Speaker 1>scent of her perfume and spit and sin thick in

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<v Speaker 1>the air. He did not rise to say mattens. He

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<v Speaker 1>did not wash, He did not pray for strength or

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<v Speaker 1>deliverance or the grace to resist. Instead, he pressed his

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<v Speaker 1>forehead to the cold lattice one last time, breathing in

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<v Speaker 1>the fading trace of her spent desire, and whispered into

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<v Speaker 1>the empty confessional the only prayer left to him, Come

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<v Speaker 1>back to me, ruin me again. Then he stood, legs trembling,

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<v Speaker 1>and walked to the sacristy door. He left it unlocked.

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<v Speaker 1>He no longer feared damnation. He craved her absolution, and

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<v Speaker 1>she always came.
